Blu-ray review: Massage Parlor Murders! (1973)

Now here’s a hidden gem, unearthed by the good folk at Vinegar Syndrome (who brought out the fantastic Blu-ray “The Lost Films of Herschell Gordon Lewis” which showcased his forgotten sexploitation works. This film, an often forgotten piece of grindhouse cinema, comes to you in the HD format (region free, so safe to import) with a DVD version and a very informative booklet, too. If only the major companies would spend this much time and effort on a release which, let’s be frank, will have very limited audience appeal.

 

The film follows Detectives Rizzoti (George Spencer) and O’Mara (John Moser) as they try and track down a homicidal maniac who is mutilating and killing the local masseuses. O’Mara begins a relationship with Gwen (Sandra Peasbody, The Last House on the Left), the roommate of the first victim and a masseuse also – although one who doesn’t do extras, as she is keen to point out. The only clue they have is a medallion the victims wear, which leads them to oddball “meta-physician” Brother Theodore ( Theodore Gottlieb, playing “himself”, whom you might remember as Uncle Reuben in The ‘Burbs, and as Captain Carl Clitoris in obscure Jaws porn spoof Gums). They must race against time, stopping only to have a beer, before the killer strikes again!

While I would like to gush at how wonderful the film is considering its rarity, it would be unfair to give the impression that it some lost Citizen Kane of the grindhouse. The acting is, for the most part, stilted, it’s badly written and has almost no editing. Almost every scene is either mid or long shot, the only close ups we get cut in are very brief, and jarring. Even for a short film (just under 80mins for the original ’73 version) it meanders and drags when there’s no-one getting killed or chased. Which brings us to the good points. The murders are graphic, and actually well shot, even though you can see the victims breathe postmortem.

There’s one amazing chase scene, after O’Mara has been to a swimming pool orgy with new beau Gwen (although we only find out why is there by watching the extras on the disc), in which the cop runs after the suspect in just a tiny towel – which stays miraculously in place, hijacks a taxi, and gives chase. While not as thrilling as The French Connection, the chase does take in similar locations, before coming to an amusing end. While on the subject of locations, it’s fabulous to see the authentic 42nd Street cinemas and nightlife, including marquees advertising films such as Blood of Dracula’s Castle). These sequences were obviously shot on the fly, guerrilla style as there’s plenty of shots of the public either looking straight into the lens or turning to watch the actors.

Keep an eye open for a young Beverly Bonner (Duane Bradley’s prostitute friend Casey in Basket Case) as a masseuse, and George Dzundza (The Deer Hunter, Basic Instinct) as “Mr Creepy” the punter and credited as assistant director.

Co-director Alex Stevens (who by all accounts directed the majority of the action scenes) was a stuntman, and worked on the aforementioned Gene Hackman film, as well as being the hapless chef who was forever falling down stairs carrying varying amounts of cake in Sesame Street, and played the Werewolf in TV’s Dark Shadows.

The film was re-released onto the drive-in circuit as Massage Parlor Hookers, with a trailer (included on the disc) which makes the film out to be more of a sex romp than thriller, and there’s no reference whatsoever to any of the girls being murdered! This version was also missing a six minute pre-credits sequence in which Anne Gaybis (Deep Jaws) tempts a punter, Irving (the co-director Chester Fox in an uncredited role) to part with more and more money for her favours. The re-release version is on this disc, but it actually is just the main film, starting at chapter two and as such doesn’t contain the alternate title.

The disc also contains seven minutes of out-takes, mostly from the pool orgy scene (including much more nudity, with one male extra standing rather proud, so to speak), which are non-essential but nice to have.
The film has probably been forgotten in time for a reason, but that’s not to say it isn’t worth checking out, especially if you enjoy 70s sleaze.

Vinegar Syndrome’s next Blu-ray release, the fabulous 1971 film The Telephone Book will be reviewed on its release. Full marks for Vinegar Syndrome, no matter how bad the films are their releases have been stellar so far.
6 out of 10