There's absolutely no way to describe this film and make it sound remotely coherent. But what else could you expect from director Fredric Hobbs, the low-budget/high-weirdness auteur who blessed (obviously confused) drive-in patrons with ROSELAND, THE GODMONSTER OF INDIAN FLATS and (the still M.I.A.) TROIKA. Amateurish, convoluted and insanely stupid, this supernatural blaxploitation gut-buster is the celluloid equivalent of a wicked hangover. And I'll give you odds that after only a few minutes you too will be muttering, "What the fuck am I watching?"... First, let's get the backstory out of the way: Hitler's long-missing scientist, Dr. Caligula, goes to Calcutta to interview famed magician Carter The Great, concerning his discovery of a "super-substance" called Raw Zeta. Resembling a super-duper hashish, it can also be refined and used to enslave humans. Soon after, Carter disappears and is announced dead, and so begins this unfathomable dip into dime-store dreck. While a Dixieland jazz band of old farts croaks the theme song, Alabama (Christopher Brooks, who seems to turn up in all of Hobbs' films) is a funky, stoner Brother who discovers a hidden underground crypt underneath the nightclub. Yes, it's the tomb of Carter, with all of his magical garb, tricks and stash of Raw Zeta -- which Alabama immediately smokes up. Deciding to use the equipment to become "Alabama, King of the Cosmos" and accompanied by Carter's grand-niece, Zoerae (Peggy Browne), he follows in Carter's footsteps by evoking spirits in a crappy nightclub act. But after being seduced by preening groupies and a prissy agent, Alabama hits the road with an act that mixes humdrum rock music, writhing dancers and psychedelic spookiness... becoming an unlikely, cross-country sensation. But when Alabama agrees to divulge Carter's famous Disappearing Elephant Trick, the bad mojo kicks in. There's a magic box that leads to a nightmarish (ha!) dimension featuring the ghost of Carter (played by another member of Hobbs' troupe, E. Kerrigan Prescott). And why not toss in a vampire conspiracy, ready to destroy civilization? Add a robot Alabama, biker vampires, voodoo ceremonies, plus an assembly-line of vampire victims, and you've got a movie with the subtlety of a ball-peen hammer to the temple. And just wait until you get a gander at Alabama's jaw-dropping car -- a bitchin' sculpture-on-wheels that looks like he's driving a Bosch-designed chariot. If you think you're bewildered now, that feeling is squared when you're actually watching this amazing flick. Padded out with authentically-hideous, early-1970s threads and increasingly stoopid surrealism, this outrageous outing from the great-and-powerful Fredric Hobbs proves that he truly is the unsung king of cut-rate cinematic insanity.

© 1998 by Steven Puchalski.