Posts tagged with drive-in

3-D Movies are mounting a comeback. Again. Be still, my bleeding eyes. Again.

At age 7, I stumbled upon the famous photograph of a movie theater audience staring up, enraptured, at Bwana Devil (1953) through paper eyeglasses with colored lenses.

Some nearby authority figure explained to me that those people were watching a 3-D movie, and those glasses enabled the images to jump right off the screen.

The immediate, flawlessly logical question I blurted out then was: “So why isn’t every movie in 3-D?” Nobody could explain it to me.

Seven was also the age when I happened up Pops McBeardo’s Playboy stashed in the bathroom hamper, so my unspoken query was: “And why isn’t Playboy in 3-D? And what about dirty movies?” The answers would come. As would I.

Masturbate to Oscar Bait!

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences recently announced its nominees for Awards honoring 2008’s best work in every aspect of movie-making.

Aside from the fact that nine of the ten actresses who got a nod have done remarkable nude work on-camera, most noteworthy is dark horse contender Melissa Leo from the film Frozen River.

For now, though, let us honor a previous Melissa Leo triumph, the 1985 teen-hooker-in-Times-Square cult favorite, Streetwalkin’.

Melissa's lusciously upturned, rosily-pink-nippled boobaloos deserve an award of their own.

Golden Globes perhaps?

Streetwalk on over after the jump.

Requiem for a Heavy Breather: Bill Landis, 1959-2008

Sleazoid Express creator Bill Landis was a pioneering publisher who really did change the world (for the better), an endlessly imaginative writer, a performer in hardcore films during theatrical porn’s Golden Age and a projectionist who worked Times Square’s glorious toilet-bowl theaters.

At the same time, Bill Landis was also a miserable junkie, a hyper-paranoid head-case, and a world-class pain-in-the-ass.

And now Bill Landis is dead, at age 49, from a heart attack.

I miss him already. And I always will. Read all about it after the jump.

Among its many repulsive and/or revolutionary revelations, the classic splatter blow-out Pieces (1982) proved (as its ads touted) that “you don’t have to go to Texas for a chainsaw massacre.”

Now the heroic exploitation-movie archeologists at Grindhouse Releasing bring that very same chainsaw massacre right to you via a new, gloriously realized two-disc special edition Pieces DVD.

Meanwhile, at a midnight showing quite possibly near you (with more on the way), Repo! The Genetic Opera (2007) is packing screwed-up teenage asses into theater seats like no cult sensation in recent memory (or mammaries).

Repo’s got blood, it’s got guts, it's got body-fluid thrill freaks looking for a kick, and it’s got a Gothily tarted-up Paris Hilton.

McBeardo reports on the considerable sex appeal of all of the above after the jump. Just click on Paris Hilton's nipple.

This day in 1978 saw the release of the most notorious grindhouse flick of all time: I Spit on Your Grave, aka Day of the Woman.

Inspired by the director’s experience helping a rape victim in New York, I Spit on Your Grave stars silent film star Buster Keaton’s grand-niece Camille Keaton as a writer who is secluding herself in a cabin in the woods when a four men brutally attack her and tear up her manuscript.

After she recovers, the victim takes her revenge by hunting down and killing her attackers, hanging one, castrating one in a hot tub, killing another with an axe, and disemboweling the last with the propeller of a motorboat.

Read more after the cut.

"What Pam Grier was to blaxploitation movies, what Bruce Lee was to kung fu movies, what Burt Reynolds was to good-ol'-boy movies, Rainbeaux Smith was to cheerleader movies. She truly has, without trying whatsoever, a Marilyn Monroe quality. She doesn't look like Monroe at all; she just has that kind of vacantness. She's not so much acting as she is existing. Imagine Marilyn Monroe as kind of a '70s hippie junky, then you kind of have Rainbeaux Smith." -- Quentin Tarentino

And on this date in 2002, the remarkable beauty who loomed so ethereal that the world naturally called her “Rainbeaux” departed this mortal coil.

Learn more and mourn with Mr Skin after the jump.

Tits the season to turn (on) to Satan.

Follow the McMestophelian trail of McBeardo as he conjures up a stroker’s dozen of the most scorchingly occult-themed flesh-flicks to ever destroy pants and reap souls.

Get the supernatural skinny on diabolical diversions that include Nude for Satan, Satan's Cheerleaders, Satan's Schools for Sluts, and To the Devil, a Daughter.

Also read a bunch of berserk boob-butt-and-bush hoo-hah along the way, bolstered by more Nekromistress t-shirt shots. Is this the week she gets nude? Click the pic to find out.

In the dirty world of sexploitation films, no topic is taboo. And no sexploitation film ever took on a more taboo topic than the Nazi death-camp flesh-and-blood freakout Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS, which debuted in theaters on this date in 1974.

Dyanne Thorne stars in the title role as the heartless, massive-mammaried commandante of a Third Reich torture facility where gorgeous drive-in divas (including Uschi Digart and Sharon Kelly) are shipped to be stripped, beaten, humiliated, and sexually defiled by Hitler’s most heinous perverts.

From the moment it first desecrated a movie screen, Ilsa became the stuff of lowbrow legend. Two direct sequels followed – Ilsa, Harem Keeper of the Oil Sheiks and Ilsa, the Tigress of Siberia – along with an unofficial off-shoot in the gloriously obscene form of Ilsa, the Wicked Warden.

Watch Mr. Skin’s Skinstant Classic video examining every naked inch of Ilsa. And remember, it’s okay to be turned on by the atrocities you see. It’s only a movie!