According to the internet, so it must be true, actress Renée Soutendijk was a star in Europe and the Netherlands in the 1980s. Lithe, athletic, and, most importantly, young and blonde, Soutendijk racked up credit after credit, even playing Eva Braun once. When that mountain is climbed, it’s not uncommon for a star to set their sights on Hollywood. However, whatever dreams of Hollywood stardom or Oscar-winning praise were dancing in her head were shattered by the stark reality of the shitty movie. After this flick, she returned to Europe and never looked back.
Directed by Duncan Gibbins, who had directed many popular music videos, and written by Gibbins and Yale Udoff, Eve of Destruction follows Soutendijk in a dual role. She plays scientist Dr. Eve Simmons, head of a secret government project to develop humanoid robots indistinguishable from the real thing for use in espionage and on the battlefield. Her latest creation is Eve VIII, also played by Soutendijk, a model based on Dr. Simmons herself. It looks like her, talks like her, and has all of Simmons’ memories. Continue reading “Eve of Destruction (1991)”
The Psychotronic Man, from 1979, isn’t a standout 20th century b-movie, but it is a bizarre little piece of regional cinema. If the internet is to be believed, it also lent its title to Michael J. Weldon’s Psychotronic Video magazine, which, from 1980 to 2006, covered pretty much the same kind of material that is this site’s bread and butter. Psychotronic Video is long gone, but public appreciation of the kinds of films we mutants like is as strong as it has ever been, if the proliferation of streaming services offering up the stuff is any indication.
Once upon a time, way back in the mid-1970s, some guy in Dallas, Texas, by the name of Bobby Davis, had some dollars in his pocket and a dream. That dream: to write, direct, and produce a blaxploitation flick. He roamed the lounges of Dallas, wading into a sea of nylon and leisure suits in search of the talent he would need to make his vision a reality. Days, nay, weeks, of production pass, and Davis overcomes all of the obstacles which stand in the way of auteurs the world over, and he gets his film in the can. Now, it’s official. Bobby Davis is a filmmaker, forever more. In celebration, and aware that all great artists leave the scene at their peak, he leaves his affairs in order, climbs the Reunion Tower overlooking picturesque Interstate 35E, and hurls himself into the void.
1989 was a banner year for producers Richard Pepin and Joseph Merhi. After a falling out with Ronald Gilchrist at City Lights Entertainment, the two formed PM Entertainment and began cranking out wonderfully inept direct-to-video movies. They released seven movies that first year, and distributed two more. Three of those movies were ersatz neo-noir Los Angeles thrillers featuring Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs, whom older readers will remember as Freddie ‘Boom Boom’ Washington from Welcome Back, Kotter. The relationship with Hilton-Jacobs was so worthwhile, in fact, that PM tapped him to direct. Written alongside Raymond Martino and Merhi, Hilton-Jacobs helmed Angels of the City, the story of a sorority initiation gone wrong.