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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: SCARLET WARNING 666 (1974)

AKA It Happened One Weekend; It Happened on Sunday; Scarlet Love; Love Is Deep Inside; Rockey’s Style (?); Scarlet Love 666

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Beware

 

DIRECTED BY: Palmer Rockey

FEATURING: Palmer Rockey

PLOT: A detective, and his twin, investigate the murder of their sister at the hands of a money-worshiping cult.

Still from Scarlet Warning 666 (1974)

 

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: The eccentric Palmer Rockey exhibits a complete failure to communicate his intentions with the baffling Scarlet Warning 666. Is it a legitimate attempt at an occult thriller, an arty anthem of nonconformity, an avant-garde meta-movie spoof, or just an excuse to cast himself in awkward sex scenes with buxom women? You’ll have no idea. File it with After Last Season as one of those mysterious objects you can’t believe actually exists.

COMMENTS: Bruce (the good twin) is walking in the park, as he often does when investigating the death of his sister Jackie. Spread out on a yellow napkin, he discovers flowers and feathers covered in sticky stage blood. A clue? But what about the swinging knife? The pirate hat perched on the coffin? The totemic feathered rattle? The spinning plastic skull lit by a flashlight? The belly dancer? The silent topless woman with big “pineapples”? All clues?

No, the movie does not have a clue. This impenetrable mystery is the magnum opus of one Palmer Rockey. Rockey was not an idiot. He was an army veteran and, surprisingly, he had a Ph.D. and had translated theology books into German. He was also a huckster, a womanizer, and some kind of sui generis madman. The opening of the film brags that Rockey plays 54 different roles—7 in front of the camera, and 47 behind it—but on screen, there are only 2 or 3 (it is often near-impossible to distinguish which character he is portraying). The film did, apparently, did go under 7 different titles, however. After its disastrous reception after its four-walled debut, a devastated but defiant Rockey further tinkered with his masterpiece for two decades, adding narration and reshooting scenes (removing his ex-wife Cookie, the former female lead, whenever possible). He incorporates footage from a student film he shot in the 50s, which is positioned as a nightmare/flashback and has nothing whatsoever to do with the later scenes. Knowing that Rockey added exposition throughout the years in an attempt to make the plot more comprehensible makes you wonder how puzzling the original must have been. His later narration is particularly bizarre, as he engages in dialogue with a falsetto version of himself discussing the movie’s genius, but also disparaging his own actors and deflecting criticism by claiming that the entire movie is a satire of some kind.

If you like bad acting backed by bad singing (also courtesy of Rockey, naturally), mismatched film stocks, continuity errors, characters who appear without being introduced, randomly edited footage, and jarring sound edits, have I got the movie for you! Despite the added exposition, I doubt the film’s plot can be reconstructed even by the most dedicated scholars. There is an artistic intent here—Rockey depicts himself as a little guy, a nonconformist fighting an evil, greedy cabal—but it’s essentially undecipherable. We will simply note that it all ends on a bare stage with blue walls and a blue floor, which is either the site of a cult ritual or a symbolic psychodrama. A shirtless Rockey poses in front of spinning yellow wheel of justice while impassive bikini-clad women stand around in the background, and later spin in a circle dance. It segues into some kind of trial, followed by an action sequence of some variety with wrestling, gunplay, and a surprise twist reveal. All acted out in front of an idol of a plywood eagle inscribed in magic marker with a dollar sign. And as the credits roll, the audience leaves none the wiser as to what just went on.

Scarlet Warning 666 (or whatever name the movie was known by) was lost for years, whispered about by and a few lucky others who caught it at its Dallas premiere. The flame was kept burning by obscure record collectors, who treasured Rockey’s supremely awful lounge-rockabilly soundtrack, and wondered in vain about the movie that had inspired such a bizarre artifact. Grindhouse Releasing actually tracked down a copy of the current version of the film and, in 2026, finally put out a Blu-ray for the first time, so everyone could see this astounding monument to one man’s misplaced egotism. The release is filled with interviews, including fans Stang and Dead Kennedys frontman Jello Biafra, alongside contemporaneous witnesses like Rockey’s ex-wife Cookie and actor Ron DeSilva. But the portrait that emerges of the mysterious Rockey remains as inexplicable as Scarlet Warning 666‘s occult plot. The film, and the man, remain oddities of the weirdest stripe.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a study of storytelling madness that will either test the patience of even the most adventurous cult film explorer or make them dizzy with delight…  if one can make it past the first ten minutes of the film, there’s a chance for some fun to be had, with the movie gradually becoming an alt-universe ‘Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me’ as Rockey attempts to mix vanity, inscrutability, and desperation into a single offering of cinematic puzzling.”–Brian Orndoff, Blu-ray.com (Blu-ray)

I think this movie is weirder than average
I think this movie is better than average

Palmer Rockey's Scarlet Warning 666

  • Move over, Ed Wood and Tommy Wiseau. Stupefying, incomprehensible, and utterly insane, SCARLET WARNING 666 goes beyond THE ROOM and PLAN 9.

List Price : 49.95 $

Offer: 33.32 $

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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: BUGONIA (2025)

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Bugonia is currently available for purchase or rental on video-on-demand.

DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: , , Aidan Delbis

PLOT: Aided by his autistic cousin, a troubled man kidnaps a corporate executive, certain she is an Andromedan alien in disguise.

Still from Bugonia (2025)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Since it improves on its canonically weird source material in every way (except ability to surprise), it has to be Apocrypha worthy, mathematically speaking.

COMMENTS: At first, Jesse Plemons’ Teddy seems like a relatively normal guy, even if his stringy, greasy red hair suggests a serious disinterest in hygiene. He is at least sympathetic in the way he takes care of his mentally-challenged cousin Don; that is, until he convinces Don to join him in undergoing chemical castration, so that the pair can resist temptation and better focus at the task at hand. Their goal? Nothing less than saving humanity from the machinations of our secret alien overlords. Their method? Kidnapping pharmaceutical CEO and “TIME” magazine covergirl Michelle Fuller. Teddy’s studies of subtle morphological clues have convinced him that Fuller is a high-ranking alien. After the abduction, the pair shave her head (to prevent her from using hair-based technology to signal for help) and slather her in antihistamine cream to dampen her psychic powers. The captured Michelle tries to use the powers of persuasion that serve her in the corporate world to threaten and cajole her way out of captivity, repeatedly asking to enter into a dialogue, ready to come to the bargaining table. But Teddy is prepared for her tricks; he’s anticipated every objection and rhetorical tactic she might try. If she tries to convince him he’s out of touch with reality… well, that’s exactly the tack an alien would take. He will accept nothing less than a full confession and an agreement to take Don and him with her on her spaceship at the lunar eclipse to meet her superiors and negotiate the Andromedans’ withdrawal from Earth. The canny Michelle adjusts her strategy to try to find a way to manipulate Teddy from inside his own warped reality. A clue suggesting a shared backstory between the two may provide the leverage she needs. A long second act of psychological cat and mouse games ensues, with the tension effectively relieved by laugh-out-loud moments from clueless Don.

The movie begins with the buzzing of bees from Teddy’s apiary, and the specter of extinction permeates the entire story. Chemicals from Michelle’s corporation may literally be responsible for a recent plague of colony collapse disorder. In Teddy’s view, aliens use humanity in the same way he uses his beehives to extract honey, with humanity no more conscious of their exploitation than his bees are. The problem, as he sees it, is that the aliens have no interest in the generational welfare of humans. As crazy he appears, Teddy ultimately has a point. Whether Michelle is an alien emissary or just a corporate overlord, she leeches off humanity; Andromedan or MBA, she’s a masterful manipulator who ultimately has only her own interests in mind. Teddy’s foil-on-the-windows paranoia may be misplaced, and may lead him to adopt inhumane methods, but his intuition about the imminent collapse of civilization strikes a chord.

Bugonia is Lanthimos’ most straightforward film since The Favourite. For most of the runtime, the story is grounded in reality, if reality of an extreme and outlandish flavor. He seems to have largely abandoned the affected, affectless acting that characterized The Lobster and Killing of a Sacred Deer: thankfully so, as it would have been a crime to hamper Plemons and Stone. (Aidan Delbis, an actor who is actually on the autism spectrum, does provide stilted line deliveries, but they are character-based and attributable to his neurological condition.) Lanthimos also restrains himself from adding the random ultra-wide fisheye lens shots that have proved distracting in his later films. Jerskin Fendrix’s score features the brief bursts of dissonant string quartet music the director is fond of, but the director mostly restricts himself to classical cinematic grammar here. He even uses needle drops from Chapell Roan and Green Day, pop flourishes that would have seemed unthinkably mainstream in his previous outings. He dabbles in some brief surrealism for two black and white flashbacks (that quote from ), and the production design in the final segment earns the appellation “bizarre,” but these pieces are not to really enough to brand the movie as obviously, stylistically weird. Rather, it’s the confluence of outrageous plotting and matter-of-fact adherence to the film’s psychotic worldview that creates the sense of strangeness here. Despite Lanthimos working in a stripped-down, more approachable mode, the material allows him to indulge his love of nihilistic plot twists. Parts will make you squirm, and parts will fill you with moral horror. The closing montage, scored to Marlene Dietrich singing “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?,” ends things on as beautifully bleak of a Lanthimosian note as could ever be imagined: a deep cynicism undercut by a yearning melancholy that testifies to the director’s genuine, bereaved humanism.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…the characters might be demented, but Bugonia is a crueller, funnier, sharper proposition, more grounded and gritty than the wigged-out weirdness of the film on which it is based.”–Wendy Ide, The Observer (contemporaneous)

CAPSULE: DREAM HACKER (2025)

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Dream Hacker is currently available for purchase or rental on video-on-demand.

DIRECTED BY: Richard Colton

FEATURING: Molly Hanson, Luke J I Smith, Gary Webster, Hannaj Bang Bendz

PLOT: A brilliant scientist creates a machine which enables the user to hijack sleepers’ minds, and her dream to use the technology for psychotherapy is thwarted by sinister forces.

Still from dream hacker (2025)

COMMENTS: This felt very much like a middling science fiction show from thirty years ago—albeit a fairly charming one. An earnest psychiatrist (with more than a little savvy in the field of computing and cybernetics) wants to improve the world, one trauma-sufferer at a time, with an enhanced doo-dad allowing her access to their subconscious. Her machinations result not only in such a device, but also an artificial intelligence to guide her through both the dreamscape (a slightly purple-tinged forest clearing) and the concurrent possibilities of remote body control. A glowing headset, a charismatic avatar, obscure government meddling, a sinister tech-conspiracy—it’s all here, and it all ambles forward in a cutesy thriller  kind of way.

Doctor Jennifer Connelly (no, that not one, as clarified during an early scene with a woefully man-bunned blind date) is an unlikely heroine, which is apt considering her naïvety about mankind’s more sinister ambitions. She is awkwardly charming: an American plopped into a metro-collegiate British milieu. (I swear, it seems you couldn’t toss a Beefeater in this movie without hitting one of the hundreds of iconic structures that litter the greater London area.) Her mentor has a tragic history which flirts with the pathetic, and the primary villain is of unclear national extraction.

Jennifer finds herself testing the machine for the first time immediately following the regrettable blind date, waking in the body of a waitress/stripper in Florida. Adam, the artificial intelligence she discovers in her program, combines nigh-omnipotence and simple charm. He, too, can take over (sleeping) bodies, and can otherwise manifest a visible form to Jennifer using the unspecified powers of “science.” The baddies muddle along attempting to kidnap Jennifer, whilst Jennifer and Adam hatch their own plan involving help from the stripper. This and other relationship story-drops are tied in and around the overarching narrative arc towards a rom-com-ish finish.

So, this thing was cute: a big, big, big idea put in service by a plucky adventurer, her computerized friend, and a kooky stripper. I am left with no complaints , except an unlikely one. I kind of want more of this breezy nonsense. Dream Hacker unspools as perfectly as a feature-length pilot for mid-90s science fiction television show. Its goofiness, disregard for grand implications, and laser-focus on the affable leads would demand at least half of a season before the network cancels it.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Its execution and thematic concerns feel spiritually aligned with ambitious, slightly strange cult films like David Cronenberg’s eXistenZ, which also explored the porous line between a simulated reality and the physical world… a compelling genre piece for a specific viewer: one who appreciates intelligent, idea-driven sci-fi and is willing to forgive a few rough edges in service of a greater creative vision.”–Ahi Ho, Gazettely (contemporaneous)

FANTASIA 2025: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: REFLECTION IN A DEAD DIAMOND (2025)

Reflet dans un diamant mort

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Recommended

DIRECTED BY: ,

FEATURING: Yannick Renier, Céline Camara, ,  Koen De Bouw, Thi-Mai Nguyen,

PLOT: Retired superspy John D. finds his routine of drinking by the seaside interrupted when a lithe body washes ashore, triggering chaotic flashbacks to his days as a secret agent.

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Cattet & Forzani whirl their inspirations in a blender while pushing a cornucopia of sub-genres up to and past the breaking point — including the popular kink, “CMNKWF”. (That’s “Clothed Male, Naked Katana-Wielding Female,” for those not in the loop.)

COMMENTS: There are two early giveaways that Reflection is going to be an oddity of excess. One is the long list of production companies. This is not uncommon for smaller-budget European films, but Cattet’s and Forzani’s film goes a bit beyond that, suggesting the filmmakers needed to scrape around to find brave investors. The second, foreshadowing the coming bombast, also appears in the credits: a blast of hyper-Bondian murder blasts and stabbings, with diamonds erupting from the colorful silhouettes of the victims, before a pleasure boat sinks down behind a growing blood-water column of text. And, as this is a European spy movie, there’s also the early topless scene, wherein a young woman exposes her breasts while tanning in a hotel’s private beach—exposing the diamond piercings that set off our film’s hero’s chain of memories.

And what a hero! Old John D. has the weathered good lucks of an erstwhile man of action, and young John D. has all the panache, pluck, and pizzazz that might reasonably (indeed, perhaps unreasonably) distilled into one superspy. The developments are a little hard to follow at the start, with intercuts of Old and Young John’s adventures. By the third act, we’re facing a massive explosion of double-dealings, glorious gadgetry, and face after face torn and otherwise peeled from John’s ultimate adversary, the manifestly deadly femme known only as “Serpentika”.

Cattet and Forzani exist somewhere above the speed of Ritchie and the grisliness of Tarantino, all while flirting with—and, on occasion, ravishing—the ambiguous meta-cinematic maneuvers of Fellini. With little room to breathe between outlandish capering (at least Old John’s timeline travels at a somewhat staid pace), the combined effect of the various shady machinations is to leave the viewer benumbed with bloody scintillation. Clawing together coherent memories of the chain of events, I can only roughly recall that one of Young John’s charges, an oil mega-baron, was murdered—but not before he kills John’s true love, a dashing young Black woman clad in a high-tech mirror dress, segments of which she leaves behind to allow John to follow her.

Or does the evil oil baron murder her? The narrator’s recollections are as murky as his cocktails. But there are roulette wheel orgasms, pentuplicate ninjas, art-and-murder by oil slick, and an unbelievable parade of increasingly dangerous (and art-house-styled) rogues standing between John and his vengeance. After you watch Reflection in a Dead Diamond, you will clamor for these Belgians to craft the next Bond movie. I’m sure the suits in charge of the franchise will gladly sacrifice the 100% clarity for the 100% boost in oomph and style.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“John’s drifting memories are a dizzying kaleidoscope of surreal free associations, lifted from the clichés and conventions – the cartoonish credits, the casino games, the clandestine meetings, the global players, the masked assassins, the absurd gadgets, the sadomasochistic sex and the kickass fights – not so much of a Bond movie (although Testi does resemble an older Sean Connery), as of the endless European ripoffs that appeared in the wake of Bond… a deep dive into the genre’s established imagery and grammar that goes beyond mere postmodern pastiche into something more artful and abstract, even quintessential, and all sexed up with the filmmakers’ characteristic kink.” — Anton Bitel, Projected Figures (contemporaneous)

CAPSULE: BABY INVASION (2024)

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Baby Invasion is currently available on VOD for purchase or rental.

DIRECTED BY: Harmony Korine

FEATURING: Juan Bofill, Shawn Thomas, Steven Rodriguez, Antonio Jackson, Tej Limlas Ly, Anonymous

PLOT: Six baby-faced goons massacre guests at a mansion in search of stacks of cash and Internet notoriety.

COMMENTS: My only real quibble with Mr. Korine’s latest romp is that it could have been far, far more disturbing. Of course, a “romp” can really only be so disturbing before it leaves romp territory, so perhaps the director did things correctly. Regardless, Baby Invasion is, without a doubt, exactly what Harmony Korine wanted it to be, for better in a number ways—and for worse, according to the general impressions that have caught my ear.

This brings me to the primary characteristic I admire in Harmony Korine: I believe he does not care what I think, what you think, what the Academy thinks, what the French think, what anyone thinks. Like Frank Sinatra, albeit filtered through Syd Vicious, Korine can stand proudly and shout: I Did It My Way. In this case, “his way” went as follows: 1) Invasion. A home invasion, the home being an expansive and expensive mansion, with several pools both indoor and out, countless objets kind of just taking up space (whoever owns this place can afford a decorator, and should seriously consider hiring one). This home is invaded by a squad of alarmingly well-armed guys who show up in a van, eat some of the inhabitants’ fruit, take some of their drugs, and otherwise lark about as they search for the mansion’s safe.

2) Baby. Now, this “found footage” is flanked by a documentary-style (à la late ’90s camcorder, judging from the film quality) conversation with a programmer who explains how her game was hijacked halfway to completion and converted into a quasi-avatar/quasi-livestream showcase for real home invasions. The gaggle of goons have their faces obscured by baby-faces; there is a constant side-scroll of remarks and emojis from real-time ‘Net observers; pixel-splosion boosts and power-ups sparkle on the screen as our pseudonymous protagonist goes through the motions.

Baby Invasion is a novelty, and for its eighty-minute runtime is entertaining enough. Whatever commentary one gleans will not take a lot of effort. I can only recommend this—somewhat—because of my degree of disorientation by the end, as game, meta-game, meta-life, and life became increasingly difficult to differentiate. The occasional shots of the “gamers” suggest none of this is real. The security cameras suggests it is. This muddling, I suspect, is Korine’s overarching goal, and he achieves it nicely. However, I would have preferred to be either slightly more amused, or considerably more dismayed, by the goings-on.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Korine, who started the company Edglrd in recent years to package his bizarre and off-putting projects while shepherding those similar from others, seems to believe that whatever ‘Baby Invasion’ is housing is the key to the evolution of cinema. That’s upsetting if true, but in a crippled moment for the creativity of the art form from the multiplexes to the arthouse, we might as well listen in… The wall-to-wall trippy rabbit hole of a world Korine has constructed is an immersive environment that shapeshifts… I sort of prayed for oblivion while in my own seat, but I was strangely hypnotized throughout.”–Ryan Lattanzio, Indiewire (festival screening)