Angel, Angel, Down We Go (1969)

American-International Pictures during the 1960s usually had a good idea of what their drive-in audience would like to see, but they really missed the boat with "Angel, Angel, Down We Go" (a.k.a. "Cult of the Damned"), which was a box office disappointment. Studio head Samuel Z. Arkoff theorized that the failure of the movie was because the characters in the movie simply were not sympathetic, and the movie was extremely downbeat. That's certainly true, but the movie has additional problems. It's also pretty slow, with its thin story stretched out to the breaking point. Also, I am not sure what point the movie was trying to make, unless it was that life is a real downer. The movie is sometimes directed in an eye-catching manner (particularly the opening minutes), but it doesn't manage to hide that the story and characters are drab and uninteresting. It took a long time for this movie to get a home video release, though if you ask me, it could have stayed in obscurity.

Fans of psychedelic trash claim to love this movie, but it is largely unwatchable. Shot in the wake of the success of "Wild in the Streets," which Robert Thom wrote, AIP allowed Thom to write and direct his first film. His freaked out ambition led to something that was barely released. The basic story is like Tennesee Williams' "Orpheus Descending" or Pasolini's "Teorama" -- a hot, vaguely homo erotic stud comes into a wealthy household, sleeps with everybody and DESTROYS them baby!! Destroys them! Tripped out with psychedelic fashions and bad rock tunes, this sounds like fun; but Thom has absolutely no sense of pace and the movie just bumps from one poorly directed scene to the next.The cast is at sea through out the film and no wonder: Holly Near, now a famous lesbian singer and activist, plays a fat girl who gets raped by the rock star. She must hide her head in a pillow when this comes on TV. Jordan Christopher comes on like Jim Morrison lite and Roddy McDowall and Lou Rawls are cringe worthy as "groovy" sidekicks. Camp lovers may relish Jennifer Jones' degradation as a wealthy nympho/porn star who lusts for the stud, but her dialogue ("You bloody sadistic dyke!") resists rational delivery.The most interesting thing about the film is the homoeroticism; quite explicit for its day. But that would hardly sell it in 1969. In fact, after previewing the film as "Angel, Angel Down We Go," AIP realized what a dog it had and shelved it. A year later they rushed it out on a cheap double bill, changing the title to "Cult of the Damned," and giving it an ad campaign that implied it had something to do with the Manson murders. Even that did not do the trick. AIP's cutting may account for the film's bumpy narrative, but what is left on screen is truly unsalvagable.The "high" point of all this madness comes when the fat heroine gets "high" and sees the other cast members SITTING ON THE CEILING!! The scene continues as if nothing odd has happened. Utterly bizarre! It's too bad after the pop-comic book psychedelia of "Wild in the Streets," that Thom fumbled this film so badly. The rock star lead was obviously created as a follow-up role for Christopher Jones, but he escaped to A films like "Ryan's Daughter" for a few years before surrendering to drugs. No one escaped this mess unscathed. Only for the morbidly curious. You have been warned.

Strange as it may seem, the '60s didn't end in the '70s, as is evident with "Angel, Angel, Down We Go" and neither did empty symbolism nor whacked-out stories.Seems poor little rich girl Tara (Near) is bored with her poor little rich life and spices it up after meeting decadent rock star Bogart Peter Stuyvesant (Christopher) and his equally decadent pals, who make it their mission in life to teach all a downbeat, yet mod, lesson in life. That lesson? I wasn't tripping out while watching this, so I missed it.Too bad they had to involve names like Jones, McDowell and Rawls (!!) in this insipid, drugged-up mess. Maybe they figured that would draw attention away from such story points as Jones jumping out of a plane (sans parachute) to save her thrown-out jewelry or Tara's daddy (Aidman) being whipped on a pool table or "rock sensation" Stuyvesant singing that all-time hit "She's Fat" to Tara or everyone taking time out from the story to stare blankly into space and mouth dialogue that probably sounded good to the writers when they were dropping whatever they dropped to write this or....Forget it, baby. I'm Austin Power-less to be further incensed and peppermint-ed at this psychedelic shack of uncool aura.No stars. Not even good for laughing at. This "Angel" will make you feel like the devil.Un-groovy, baby.

A weird and hopeless mishmash of elements which will make you wonder how on earth this film ever got made and also why stars such as Jennifer Jones signed on in the first place. The plot revolves around an overweight young girl named Tara ("you know, after Gone With The Wind") whose life has been distorted by her rich parents who never loved her in the first place. She becomes involved with a rock singer and he and his group ingratiate themselves into her home and family. It is obvious that the film is supposed to be symbolic because we are continually shown a painting of the characters in morbid poses with their eyes gouged out, etc. but you would have to be on an acid trip to grasp them). Most of the lines are thrown in for shock value, and it is indeed shocking to hear Jennifer Jones (as Tara's mother) utter such lines as "I made 30 stag films and never faked an orgasm" or call her maid a "bloody sadistic dyke". A must see to believe it all but very bad cinema indeed.