asylum of satan (1971)

william girdler started, at the early age of 23, his short, prolific, career as a maker of cheap-ass exploitations goodies with this goof of a flick. he died in a helicopter crash at the age of 30 scouting locations in the philipines for an action flick that was to have starred marlon brando. in the space of a few years girdler managed to make some very silly, yet memorable, movies that have developed a rabid cult following. a following based on the aesthetics of 1970s americana, loud, cheap, garish, and odd. which is not unlike the fans of the u.s. vehicle from the same era the amc pacer.

short of plot the movie concerns the plight of a young woman who is ambulanced in the middle of the night to a strange, foreboding asylum for some undefined mental illness. the woman wakes in the morning and is greeted by the house matron played in drag by the same dude who portrays the doctor and proprietor of the hospital. she has no idea where she is or whether or no her doctor ordered her confinement. thus begins a very confusing movie.

the rest of film concerns the other charges of the asylum, an older woman confined to a wheelchair, a blind girl and an old man. the rest of the inmates wear cloaks and hoods, eat only eggs, and do not speak at all. as soon as we see them in the dining hall hunched over their plates of eggs all cloaked-up, we know, because the film's title already clued us in, that these dressed-up characters are acolytes of old scratch. don't worry the red one shows up at the end, mighty pissed and fucks up everybody in sight. but not until a long hour worth of film stock is wasted.

it seems the doc who runs the place is trying to appease the anti-god. he then orchestrates the rather baroque murders of the guests who are not dressed in hoods and cloaks. the old man is thrown out of a three-storey building. the blind girl is attacked by cheap, stiff as cardboard, snakes while taking a course in hydrotherapy. while the woman in the wheelchair is gassed. as she lay on the floor choking against the white mist, rubber bugs, and spiders, suddenly attach to her face.

oh, and need i mention the zombie who stumbles out of a crawlspace to get our heroine when she is need of some down-time to collect her thought in her room? not only can't the zombie hit a two-by-four with a 30 lb. sledge hammer even with a huge target painted on the wood with the phrase, hit me here you fucking moron, but his fx'ed appendages and bloody eye slip off in mid-yawn.

even that is not the end of the indignities for our litle miss distressed. for during the course of the movie her very plaid-dressed boyfriend had searched low for his beloved. in the last scene he rescues her from being sacrificed to old itch, and that is that. or is it? cuz when natural lover find his true love, the asylum has returned to its delipidated condition and there is not a soul to be found.

yet it was issa who wrote, the world of exploitation / is the world of exploitation / and yet . . .and yet. when goofball finds his damsel he turns for one last look at the room. and there is the mask of satan himself. in red and flaming mad.

strictly for the drive-in circuit. girdler pieced his movie together like a boy scout building his champion-style soapbox derby racer. you can nearly see the editing tape on the print of the film. however, the energy and enthusiasm for the project is evident in every frame. there is a kind of goofy innocence, a diy work ethic, that carries the movie forward. barely watchable the film compels viewing simply for the reason that it was conceived and executed. like the principal products of america that old wcw wrote about not quite gone completely loony. would the good doc like this film? hell no! but surely he would probably smoke a bowl and laugh like hell during a screening.