Totally bonkers psycho Alan (Zalman King in robust, divinely unhinged and uninhibited gonzo form) and his more mellow, but still quite lethal brother Peter (a sedately sinister Robert Porter) are a pair of odious, malefic, resolutely vile and unwholesome degenerate biker louts who gleefully torment, terrorize, manhandle, degrade and generally flat-out grossly mistreat a prissy school teacher (plucky, comely brunette Brenda Fogarty) and her bus load of four nubile strumpet teenage girl students (Susie Russell, Cathy Worthington, Jill Voight and Dina Ousley, all sublimely delectable fair maidens who are just ripe with adolescent purity and ingenuousness) in a remote area of the California desert.
That's it for the admittedly skimpy plot and frankly who cares about some fancy-schmancy story, for what this really base and repulsive vintage 70's drive-in sleaze lacks in style and substance (plenty, man), it more than compensates for with a winning abundance of ferociously foul-minded hardcore grindhouse cinema sliminess. We've got blunt direction by Earl Barton, grainy cinematography by Erwin Jay Barer, and a get-down funky syncopated score by Igo Kantor. Moreover, we also got rape, gratuitous nudity, a thrilling motorcycle chase that's followed by an equally exciting foot chase, a truly mean misogynistic bent, a few fiercely protracted murder set pieces, a marvelously vicious last reel onslaught of mass killing and destruction, and absolutely no redeeming artistic quality to ground the assorted trashy activities in any slight semblance of unwanted pretense or needless gravity.
Best of all, it's considerably enlivened and made essential viewing by the incomparable Zalman King's frenzied, overwrought, explosively insane and unrestrained scenery-gulping histrionics. With his unsightly mass of curly, unwashed greasy hair, soiled dirt-stained blue jeans, irritating wheezing, deranged cackle, nasal, slurred mumble-grumble voice, enormous wrap-around black shades, fixed, unblinking baleful stare, crazed facial expressions (King contorts his sweaty puss into a hilariously pained grimace whenever he bags somebody), scraggly five day beard, getting wackier by the minute slow burn intensity, and hysterically out of it live-wire mugging, King could pass for either David Hess' severely dysfunctional sociopathic near twin brother or a twitchy heroin addict who's in dire need of an immediate fix. An exquisitely gnarly'n'nasty nugget.
That's it for the admittedly skimpy plot and frankly who cares about some fancy-schmancy story, for what this really base and repulsive vintage 70's drive-in sleaze lacks in style and substance (plenty, man), it more than compensates for with a winning abundance of ferociously foul-minded hardcore grindhouse cinema sliminess. We've got blunt direction by Earl Barton, grainy cinematography by Erwin Jay Barer, and a get-down funky syncopated score by Igo Kantor. Moreover, we also got rape, gratuitous nudity, a thrilling motorcycle chase that's followed by an equally exciting foot chase, a truly mean misogynistic bent, a few fiercely protracted murder set pieces, a marvelously vicious last reel onslaught of mass killing and destruction, and absolutely no redeeming artistic quality to ground the assorted trashy activities in any slight semblance of unwanted pretense or needless gravity.
Best of all, it's considerably enlivened and made essential viewing by the incomparable Zalman King's frenzied, overwrought, explosively insane and unrestrained scenery-gulping histrionics. With his unsightly mass of curly, unwashed greasy hair, soiled dirt-stained blue jeans, irritating wheezing, deranged cackle, nasal, slurred mumble-grumble voice, enormous wrap-around black shades, fixed, unblinking baleful stare, crazed facial expressions (King contorts his sweaty puss into a hilariously pained grimace whenever he bags somebody), scraggly five day beard, getting wackier by the minute slow burn intensity, and hysterically out of it live-wire mugging, King could pass for either David Hess' severely dysfunctional sociopathic near twin brother or a twitchy heroin addict who's in dire need of an immediate fix. An exquisitely gnarly'n'nasty nugget.