Movie Review: Judy!/The Night Hustlers (1969/68, Vinegar Syndrome)

...previously, this reviewer had made celebrative mention of the eclectic, provocative and lurid film rarities, which cut film auteur Mike Vraney, and his cohorts over at Something Weird Video had successfully...even sometimes shamelessly...built their fine reputation on, over the years. And that the folks over at Vinegar Syndrome, had since taken up that respected mantle of provocative-ness, with an always surprising array of lurid and cutting edge films, in their own right...many of which would clearly not look out of place, in the Something Weird library. But again, all of this has been adoringly said before, and though this viewer feels it unnecessary to tread that same ground, again, there is still an irresistible compulsion to take a moment in remembering what Mike Vraney, whom we regrettably lost, recently...contributed, to the genre, and his tireless efforts in preserving a certain 'forbidden' breed of cult and exploitation films, which might have outright disappeared into obscurity, were it not for his driven devotion to the genre. Films very much like Vinegar Syndrome's latest double-feature outing...two recently unearthed sexploitation outings, once again gracing yet another edition of their most excellent 'Drive-In Collection" series...presenting 1969's "Judy", paired up with the previous year's "The Night Hustlers"...

...and in the lurid tradition of sexploitation films, "Judy" kicks off with a rather skewed hotel room tryst between two gals...skewed, in the sense that although one of the gals is rather attractive, in a far-out, swinging sixties sort of a way...her 'partner'...fake-blonde-wigged and dark ebony skinned...looking largely masculine enough to almost be something other than what, according to Hoyle, might be defined as a 'gal' (...uh, can you say, 'ta ta-da, ta ta-da...dude looks like a lady...ta ta-da, ta ta-da...'...). As disturbing and uncomfortable as it might have looked, watching these two lavish and slobber all over each other...fortunately, and yet, inexplicably, this is the last time we see them. And...cue the title card...

...what follows is a vignette of incidents, involving several attractive young women, who are brutally attacked, appearingly raped, and...in most cases...killed by a dark-clothed unseen assailant. In between these attacks, we become privy to once-cop, private detective Gunner Sloane, who is hired by the father of one of the first assault victims (...who, despite quite shaken and bruised, had survived her violent ordeal); dogged and determined, Sloane sallys forth, in his investigation of the heinous homicidal sex crimes. However, as the investigation drags on, the identity of the killer assailant becomes progressively apparent to Sloane...and it may just be someone, whom he knows...

...given the filmmaker's style, use of color, fashion sense, recycling of sets, kiddie-scissor editing, as well as the kitchy-corny cliche dialog, and the splintered wooden acting, if this observant and savvy viewer had not know that the film was produced and directed by anyone other than, he would have adamantly sworn that he was watching a sexploitive, thickly Floridian flavored Herschell Gordon Lewis flick (...alas, filmed in Massachusetts, with tag-team direction by David Hansen and George Meadows...the former, probably better known for the same year's shocker, "Night of the Bloody Transplant"). A pretty much by-the-numbers murder mystery, with the overall appeal being that of the atmosphere and flavor...not to mention the sleuthwerks of the Sloane character, who goes around interviewing several local women, in the course of his investigation...but always manages to check on the wrong women, first, including the title character herself, who much like some of the other fleeting personas in the film, seems more incidental, than anything. And sheesh!! What of the killer, himself?? Granted, what is being suggested as rape, in his attacks, sure as heck doesn't resemble any type of sexual performance, which most people might know, by any means. Uh, Dude, it's 'pump, pump', not 'wriggle, wriggle'; get yourself a trip to 2013, and learn how to twerk, OK??...

...it's not a wonder why "The Night Hustlers" is the shorter second-tier feature, in this traipsingly tantalizing two-fer; the majority of the film pretty much simply takes place in the midst of a progressively increasing membered party, whereby some drunken, swaggering law enforcement buddies, egotistically waxrapsonic over their varied criminal busts, as well as their love conquests. The evening's free-for-all proceedings eventually culminate into a pinnacle of perversity, involving competitive pole climbing, strip-tease tantalizing, and homoerotic meanderings. Those familiar with...once again, referencing...Herschell Gordon Lewis' work, might even recognize actress Andrea Barr, having previously graced the Lewis entourage of films, with appearances in "The Gruesome Twosome" and "Just for the Hell of It". And you haven't heard anything as outrageous as the opening and closing theme song...rendered by a supposed lounge singer, with the lousiest French accent, this side of Pepe LePew, and who also serves as the egotistical lead 'cop', in this swinging affair...

...for the uninitiated masses...unattuned to the deliciousness of such exploitatively sexual, back-room cinematic delinquency...this back-to-back might be construed as unbearable trash, of the lowest order; however, for those of us who have long since been oh-so corrupted and tainted by the raunchy maverick film stylings once proudly and shamelessly exuded by Something Weird Video, and have since gleefully transitioned over to the equally provocative and lurid offerings...newly discovered, and now riding the Vinegar Syndrome banner...such delightfully grainy and weathered film-dreck, as "Judy" and "The Night Hustlers", is absolutely pure gold...granted, 'gold' that's more than a bit marred with a filth and stink, not unlike that of a stale and stanky, booze-flooded whorehouse...but 14-carat, USDA-prime 'gold', nonetheless...and we wouldn't have it any other way, right?? Bravo, to the fine folks, over at Vinegar Syndrome, for another great salute to the seedier side of the drive in cinema...