The Thrill Killers (1964)

The Thrill Killers (USA, 1964) 69 min B&W DIR: Ray Dennis Steckler. SCR: Gene Pollock, Ray Dennis Steckler, Ron Haydock (additional dialogue). PROD: George J. Morgan, Ray Dennis Steckler. MUSIC: “Henri Price” (aka- André Brummer). DOP: Joseph V. Mascelli. CAST: “Cash Flagg” (aka- Ray Dennis Steckler), Liz Renay, Joseph Bardo, Carolyn Brandt, Gary Kent, Herb Robins, Laura Benedict, Keith O’Brien, Titus Moede, Atlas King, Gene Pollock, James Bowie, Ron Haydock. (Morgan-Steckler Productions)

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In the terrific interview book, RE:SEARCH Incredibly Strange Films, a large number of fringe filmmakers (from Ted Mikels to Ray Steckler) express their disdain for the Hollywood system. Still, I can’t help but wonder if their tune would be different if suddenly Steven Spielberg dropped some money on their laps to do a studio picture. We praise these people for eking out an existence on the fringes to feed their visions which aren’t digestible (or in some cases, stomachable) by the Hollywood mainstream. But, are they so adamant in making movies their own way that they’d rather live a hand-to-mouth existence and making the films on whatever scraps given to them, or is it just because they are rejected by the Hollywood system? There are a few interesting perceptions of Hollywood, made by people who put together their works in the back alleys of Tinseltown. Phil Tucker made Broadway Jungle (also known as Hollywood Jungle); Ed Wood wrote a (surprisingly straightforward) book, Hollywood Rat Race, and finally, Ray Dennis Steckler made The Thrill Killers.

On the surface, The Thrill Killers is quite a thriller about a bunch of escaped lunatics whose reign of terror culminates in menacing people in a diner. But underneath, this is a gleefully sarcastic film about the Hollywood system. From the opening overhead shot of Sunset Blvd. to the candid moments of hopeful actor Joe Saxon walking among the star-studded sidewalks in Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, this film examines the lure of stardom, and the desperate people who try to attain it. In some way, Steckler has made his own micro-Sunset Blvd. Rather than a cameo appearance from Cecil B. DeMille, we get Wild Guitar producer Arch Hall Sr. and this film’s producer George Morgan as themselves. These two men are flanked by a cartoonish “yes man” (Steckler regular Titus Moede, who also doubles as a motorcycle cop in an early scene!) that fulfills the quotient of brown-nosers that always infiltrate industry functions.

This film marks the only time Steckler worked with a star- that is, other than the character players who are mostly remembered for their appearances in his films. For this picture, he had the good fortune of hiring Liz Renay, the Marilyn Monroe lookalike contest winner and starlet friend of gangster Mickey Cohen… just when she got out of prison! In a sly move to equate movie reality with the real world, Liz Saxon is a former actress turned painter, as visual art was what helped sustain Liz Renay in her life behind bars. (As with most Steckler efforts, his players bring bits of themselves to the roles.) Her realist character says to Joe that they are spending way too much money on these parties to impress industry bigwigs (when they can barely pay rent), especially when it’s only a bunch of crazies showing up- a point made even more pertinent when they -gasp- start playing that rock and roll music! You need only go to one or two industry blowouts to confirm Liz’s observation– for every genuine celebrity, there are a dozen weirdos wanting a piece of the action, doing any kind of fast talk to get it.

Aside from the swipes at the Hollywood system, The Thrill Killers remains a very entertaining psycho-thriller. There are still some remarkably iconoclastic touches which mark the work of this writer-director going his own way. He confounds us at first with his haywire plot strands, which finally converge into what is a conventional narrative (for a Steckler film anyway). We are introduced to Joe Saxon shuffling along the streets, as the narrator from the Coleman Francis School of Voiceover introduces us to him as: “Joe Saxon, caught in the world of non-reality”. (Wait! That narrator actually is Coleman Francis, uncredited. I swear I didn’t know that when I first wrote this- we didn’t have internet at home yet.) Next, the hard-working narrator introduces Dennis Kesdekian (Atlas King), “caught in the world of reality”. As he goes to work, waving good-bye to his kids, the exposition continues: “As you can see, he has a lot of mouths to feed. Where is a there a better place to succeed other than in America?” Because of the attention given to this man, we wisely yet wrongly expect him to be a strong supporter in the story; Joe will meet his complete opposite. Dennis picks up a hitchhiker, who is the film’s chief villain, Mad Dog Click (played by Cash Flagg, aka- Steckler). The man kills Dennis and drives off in his car. Roll credits. Then, after introducing Joe and Liz, the narration disappears completely!

We are persistently duped by who we suspect the major characters will be. Joe and Liz disappear from the narrative for a considerable amount of time, as we are then given an overlong subplot about a young couple (among them, the great Carolyn Brandt, AKA- Mrs. Steckler) whose first home is invaded by three escaped lunatics who end up killing the newlyweds. So much conflict and development went into the writing of these two people… just to see them get removed from the story a few minutes later. A few scenes with Mad Dog make us think that he will be the one terrorizing the cast soon, then he seemingly disappears from the story once these three loonies show up!

Joe, Liz and producer George all converge at the diner, run by Linda (Laura Benedict), when they are besieged by the three maniacs who sliced and diced Carolyn Brandt: Gary (legendary stunt man Gary Kent, who is an enjoyably hissy villain), Herbie (Herb Robins) and Keith (Keith O’Brien). Herbie calls his brother (guess who?) to come pick him up and get away from the other two, who are sicker than he is!  The cunning people in the diner turn the tables on the wackos, but not before another slant at the movie industry. One of the crazies recognizes Joe as the actor whose publicity photos are conveniently plastered on the walls in the diner, and in a fitting moment of terror, he forces Joe to act out a scene– this nut bar even “directs” him. A ha- is this film saying that any one can direct a picture, or that one must be insane to want to work in this business?

Finally, Mad Dog shows up and the final chase ensues. Steckler’s films are typically a mixture of tones. What is mostly a tense psychological thriller at times has the “hang out” feel of Steckler and his pals getting together for a movie, and gives way to a goofball slapstick chase, culminating with Mad Dog in a cowboy hat on horseback, that wouldn’t be far removed from the finale of Rat Phink A Boo Boo.

Despite the pleasure that Steckler’s films give to people, those same viewers nonetheless write him off as a schlock director (however an entertaining one). Still, The Thrill Killers proves that given the right circumstances, the man does have talent. I like the cutting techniques when Click kills his one-night stand in her apartment. His stabbing is edited to the rhythm of the flashing hotel sign outside the window. Once again, Steckler has a good cameraman (the great Joe Mascelli) whose expressive black-and-white photography makes this very low-budget picture look like something.

All’s well that ends well… or is it? Steckler fades the film out on a surprisingly sarcastic note. Joe and Liz are snuggling by the fire. She mews that she is so glad that he gave up acting. Suddenly he receives a call from George, who offers him the lead role in his upcoming picture with Miss Transylvania… none other than Linda from the diner! Once Joe is given his offer of weekly salary, times how many weeks he would be on location, and that this shoot in an exotic locale would also be a vacation by proxy, even Liz gets hip to it. From Linda’s being groomed as a new starlet, to the dollar signs in the eyes of the Saxons, the meaning is clear. Everyone is a prostitute in this business.  What a bitter end to a subtly angry film.

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Edited from Vol. #1, Issue #7, as part of the “Ray Dennis Steckler and You” series.