All posts by Gregory J. Smalley (366weirdmovies)

Gregory J. Smalley founded 366 Weird Movies in 2008 and has served as editor-in-chief since that time. He is a member of the Online Film Critics Society, and his film writing has appeared online in Pop Matters and The Spool.

POD 366, EP. 157: IN THE GUTTER WITH TOM LEE RUTTER OF “POCKET FILM OF SUPERSTITIONS”

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Discussed in this episode:

The Pocket Film of Superstitions (2023): A narrator elucidates various superstitions whilst they are presented onscreen.

Arco (2025): Read Gregory J. Smalley’s review. France’s remarkable (but only kind of weird) sci-fi children’s story about a time-traveling kid in a rainbow suit is now available on VOD for purchase or rental (premium pricing, so purchase is currently the better option). Buy or rent Arco (premium pricing).

Boys Go to Jupiter (2024): Read Giles Edwards’ review. ‘s comic animation about a gig economy teen hustler and aliens comes to Blu-ray with a number of neato extras: commentary, music videos, and four Glander shorts. Buy Boys Go to Jupiter.

The Man Who Wasn’t There (2001): A Cold War barber finds himself involved in a blackmail scheme that goes wrong. This existential noir from the is in our reader-suggested queue, and is now on 4K UHD from the in a new transfer (otherwise the same as the original Criterion Blu-ray). Buy The Man Who Wasn’t There.

Pink Narcissus (1971): Read Enar Clarke’s review. As expected, this groundbreaking  homoerotic arthouse experimental feature has finally appeared on Blu-ray after its restoration and rerelease. Buy Pink Narcissus.

Tank Girl (1995): Read Ryan Aarsets review. The 90s feminist post-apocalyptic cult film about a girl and her tank joins the ranks of 4K UHD releases this week. Buy Tank Girl.

Terror Firmer (1999): Read Gregory J. Smalley’s review. Troma rolls out another 4K UHD of one of their catalog “classicks,” as always packed with bonuses. Buy Terror Firmer.

“Your Life is on the Line!: A Joe Christ Anthology”: Five films from a punk DIY 80s-90s filmmaker whose work is unfamiliar to us, but who is compared to early and . Buy “Your Life is on the Line!: A Joe Christ Anthology”.

WHAT’S IN THE PIPELINE:

No guest scheduled for next week’s Pod 366 (unless you count a pop-in from “Penguin” Pete Trbovich). The week after, we should have Ryan Verrill and Billy Ray Brewton from new boutique distributor Antenna Releasing on to discuss the current state of cult film distribution and other topics of interest to our core audience. At any rate, we’ll bring you all the weird movie news that’s fit to discuss. In written content, Giles Edwards will catch you up on the rest of the SlamDance 2026 slate (shorts and a feature); Micheal Diamades takes another bullet for the rest of the staff and covers the infamous, frequently banned bestiality-themed Belgian feature Vase de Noces (1974); Shane Wilson recommends the only-slightly-less-transgressive and “actually insane” trash talk show satire United Trash [AKA The Slit] (1996); and Gregory J. Smalley tries to find a purpose for Thailand’s reincarnated vacuum cleaner romance A Useful Ghost (2025). Onward and weirdward!

“KRAZEE KIDZ VIDEO PARTY”

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Let’s get this out of the way first: despite containing five “films” (although one is only 25 minutes long and two others are under an hour), “Krazee Kidz Video Party” is not a box set. There’s no box. There’s no booklet. There are no meaningful special features: a few drive-in “snipes,” ads and intermission notices, serve as the sole extra, unless you consider the option to watch all the features end-to-end in “slumber party mode” a bonus. And—get this—all this content—301 minutes—is crammed onto one (1) disc. Forget 4K transfers: these VHS-y resolutions hover closer to the quarter-K level.

Needless to say, this collaborative release from Something Weird and American Genre Film Archives isn’t exactly Criterion Collection quality. That does not mean, however, that it is not recommended—highly recommended, in fact, to the right oddballs, many of whom are regular readers of this site. That is because of the quality (can that be the right word?) of the curiosities on display here. True to the title, it’s children’s entertainment at its most deranged: a treasure trove of the cynical subgenre that has come to be known as children’s grindhouse. Well, at least some of it is. The rest of it is just, well, kinda weird—with one legitimate exotic egg hidden inside this dime-store Easter basket.

Still from The big bad wolf (1957)

That crackerjack isn’t the set’s first offering, 1957’s The Big Bad Wolf [Der Wolf und die sieben jungen Geißlein, AKA The Wolf and the Seven Little Goats], although this opener sports the highest uncanny valley quotient—which is really saying something in this collection. From the first time Mother Goat appears in her Satanist-adjacent horned mask as a talking crow demands the unseen narrator recite the names of her ritual sacrifices cute kids, you’ll wonder if you’ve stumbled into a badly deteriorated, repurposed short. Ultimately, this German movie (the dubbing was unobtrusive, thanks to the masks worn by 90% of the cast) is more of a live-action cartoon, of the kind Hanna-Barbera would have executed in a crisp 5 minutes, but stretched out to almost an hour’s running time. Still, there is something endearing about this material being played earnestly by adults in inarticulate fuzzy masks. The cast really commits to the bits: the wolf’s involuntary plummet in a wheelbarrow down a very slight incline, for example, goes hard. There are also a couple of memorable moments where the lupine-headed monster interacts with live actors, ruthlessly bullying a grocer and a flour merchant (who fights back with his trademark good). And it ends with a note of genuine horrifying folk surrealism straight from the Grimm Brothers’ source material: the wolf eats six of the seven kids, then, as he sleeps off his meal, the lone survivor slices open his belly (with scissors, but without anesthetic) to save his kin. Overall, it’s a highly watchable oddity, and a nice way to start your marathon of Continue reading “KRAZEE KIDZ VIDEO PARTY”

CAPSULE: ÉL (1953)

AKA This Strange Passion

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Recommended

DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Arturo de Córdova, Delia Garcés

PLOT: A Mexican landowner seduces a woman into marrying him, but his paranoid jealousy quickly poisons the union.

Still from El (1953)

COMMENTS: The career of Luis Buñuel breaks cleanly into three periods: the avant-garde (or first French) period, the Mexican period, and the renaissance (or second French) period. He begins in Paris with the revolutionary experiments of Un Chien Andalou, L’Age d’Or, and Land Without Bread; moves to Mexico where he directs commercially-oriented films after an unsuccessful flirtation with Hollywood; and then, in the twilight of his career, returns to France to produce masterworks such as Belle de Jour (1967) and Discreet Charm of the Bourgousie (1972) with the assistance of new collaborators Serge Silberman (producer) and Jean-Claude Carrière (writer). Of these eras, the Mexican period, from 1947-1965, is the longest—and it can itself be split into early and late periods, as Buñuel again achieves international notoriety with Viridiana in 1961, and re-emerges into surrealism with 1962’s The Exterminating Angel.

The Mexican period is often overlooked, and it’s undeniable that Buñuel was far less experimental in this era, placing commercial realities above personal passions, and sneaking in surrealism and social commentary where he could. But Buñuel was honing his craft in Mexico, and these films are still fascinating to see the development of his aesthetic. Naturally, he also made some great movies in these years, among which the psychologically astute Él (which translates in this context as “he”) is a standout.

The film begins, without dialogue and somewhat mysteriously, with priests ritualistically washing the feet of young men on Maundy Thursday. The gaze of our protagonist, Francisco, scans a line of boys’ feet and priestly hands until it alights on a pair of high heeled shoes supporting shapely calves; his eyes then turn at a right angle to travel vertically up the body to briefly meet the eyes of a young woman, whom we will later learn is Gloria. What this opening means—with its nods to the director’s foot fetishism and his complicated relationship to Catholicism—is a point for academic debate. But no matter; the story immediately takes a turn for the melodramatic, following Francisco as he seduces the demure Gloria (stealing her from her fiancé, an associate of Francisco’s), while expressing his vain desire to recreate his ancestral real estate empire. Francisco’s irrational jealousy emerges as early as the honeymoon, where he gets into a fight with an old friend of his bride’s that the couple coincidentally encounters. Gloria quickly realizes she has made a terrible mistake. Things escalate through beatings, a dangerous scene in a bell tower (which anticipates Vertigo), and finally a disturbing and menacing bit where Francisco gathers up surgical equipment for purposes you can certainly guess. In the end, Francisco has a complete psychotic break, allowing Buñuel to deploy some light surrealism (via editing) to portray the triumph of paranoia over objective reality. (This climax occurs, naturally, inside a church.) An ironic epilogue shows Francisco, now convalescing in a monastery, his demons at least temporarily at bay, zig-zagging down a straight garden path.

Buñuel‘s own process during the Mexican period follows the same path: he follows the inevitable line of conventional narrative, but zigs and zags into his own obsessions. The director claimed that Él was one of his most personal works, and we know from his wife Jeanne’s autobiography that Buñuel himself suffered from irrational jealousy and sexual repression. Thus, he identifies with Francisco, but only in a masochistic and self-reflective way: he’s too perceptive to deceive himself, as his protagonist does, into thinking he’s always in the right. The source novel, by a woman speaking from personal experience, reportedly focuses on social critique of the Mexican patriarchy and its mistreatment of women; this subject interests Buñuel as well, but he leans into the character study aspect of the material. It is a way to exorcise his personal demons, and despite the conventionality of the approach, Él is at heart a typically vituperative strike by Buñuel at the hypocrisy of the human heart.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a dark, troubling, classily produced melodrama. It may not have the showy, surreal touches of Buñuel’s best known work but it still packs a punch.”–David Brook, Blueprint: Review (Criterion Blu-ray)

Él (The Criterion Collection) [Blu-ray]

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