White Line Fever (1975)

          Drive-in pulp with a smidgen of substance, this one combines all sorts of lurid elements—blue-collar rebellion, high-octane chase scenes, deadly revenge, rednecks, shootouts, smuggling, truckers, a Vietnam veteran, and, just to put the cherry atop the whole tasty treat, a colorful cast including R.G. Armstrong, Kay Lenz, Slim Pickens, Don Porter, and Jan-Michael Vincent. In other words, if White Line Fever doesn’t get your blood pumping, then the repertoire at the grindhouse of your dreams is far different than the one at mine. White Line Feverhas so many cool attributes that whether the movie’s actually “good” is quasi-irrelevant—therefore, the fact that the picture is somewhat respectable as a piece of low-rent drama becomes a bonus.

          Vincent stars as Carrol Jo Hummer (seriously, that’s the character’s name), a good ol’ boy who returns from Vietnam intent on driving an independent big rig and living happily with his sexy young wife, Jerri (Lenz). In order to get the cash to buy his truck, Carrol Jo borrows money from disreputable types who expect Carrol Jo to pay off his debt by smuggling illegal goods. Once Carrol Jo realizes what he’s gotten into, he uses the court system, threats, and finally violence to declare his independence. That leads to beatings, hassles, intimidation, and, eventually, deadly results for those around Carrol Jo. The movie climaxes with Carrol Jo striking a highly symbolic blow against his enemies, because Our Hero uses his souped-up truck, which bears the name “Blue Mule,” as an instrument of working-man’s justice.

         Co-writer/director Jonathan Kaplan, who spent the ’70s making well-crafted exploitation films before venturing into topical studio pictures (notably 1989’s The Accused) and then a long career in television that continues to this day, displays his signature touch for stirring up juicy narrative conflict. Predictably, however, logic takes a backseat to slam-bang spectacle. Like Kaplan’s enjoyable blaxploitation pictures The Slams (1973) and Truck Turner (1974), White Line Fever feels like a hard-edged comic book—when Vincent struts out of his hovel with a shotgun in his hand, then hops into the cab of “Blue Mule” hell-bent for vengeance while pounding music blasts on the soundtrack, the movie rises to a plane of intoxicating macho silliness.

          I freely admit to having an inexplicable affinity for Vincent’s lackadaisical screen persona, so chances are I watch this particular B-movie through forgiving eyes. I’m also sweet on Lenz, and I can watch Armstrong and Pickens in nearly anything. So take this praise for White Line Fever with the appropriate caveat: If you don’t groove to the idea of Jan-Michael Vincent playing an avenging trucker, then there’s probably only so much White Line Fever is going to do for you. But if you’re intrigued, strap in for a trashy good time.

White Line Fever: GROOVY

Truck Turner (1974)

          Blaxploitation flicks came in so many flavors that fans of the genre can have many favorites—best martial-arts adventure, best Pam Grier joint, best Fred Williamson thriller, best installment of Shaft, and so on. Therefore, when I say that Truck Turner is my overall favorite blaxploitation picture, what I really mean is that the movie’s 91 slam-bam-stick-it-to-the-man minutes encapsulate every tacky, wonderful thing I dig about blaxploitation. Other movies in the genre have better moments, and other movies in the genre have better stories, but Truck Turner’s got enough action, murder, pimps, urban fashion, and vituperative vulgarity to make other blaxploitation pictures look wimpy by comparison. Isaac Hayes, of all people, stars as Truck Turner—excuse me, Mack Truck Turner—a pistol-packin’ bounty hunter on the trail of a pimp named Harvard Blue who skipped bail. If that synopsis doesn’t get your blood pumping, read no further. But if you’re catchin’ what I’m sendin’ your way, man, then let’s rap a while about this groovy jam.
          Hayes, the deep-voiced soul/funk musician who previously earned his blaxploitation bona fides with his Oscar-winning tune “Theme from Shaft,” made an easy transition to acting with Truck Turner. Even though he’s not the most persuasive thespian—in fact, his line deliveries range from phony to silly—he’s got such a strong natural presence, and such panache for investing dialogue with badass swagger, that his lack of real acting ability isn’t a hindrance. Simply put, the dude is cool. So, as the movie progresses, and as Turner’s pimpquest turns deadly, it’s tremendous fun to watch Hayes ice bad men and seduce good ladies.
          Director Jonathan Kaplan, who was slowly working his way up the American International Pictures exploitation-movie food chain, exhibits a slick touch with action scenes and urban culture—Truck Turner is a cartoon, but it’s lively as hell. For instance, where else can viewers see Nichelle Nichols, better known as Lt. Uhura from the original Star Trek series, playing a tough madam? (Here’s Nichols describing her ladies: “These are all prime cut--$238,000 worth of dynamite. It’s Fort Knox in panties.”) And where else can viewers see Hayes square off with the powerful Yaphet Kotto, who plays Harvard Blue? Because, ultimately, Truck Turner is all about Hayes striking don’t-mess-with-this-motherfucker poses—he’s at his best when stripped to the waist, wearing just jeans and a shoulder holster, while blowing away hired killers with his cannon-sized .44 Magnum. Unsurprisingly, Hayes also provided the soundtrack for the movie, and his song titles give a good flavor of the movie’s down-and-dirty appeal: “Pursuit of the Pimpmoble,” “A House Full of Girls,” “Give It to Me,” and the extra-succinct “Drinking.”

Truck Turner: GROOVY

Mr. Billion (1977)

Representing an unsuccessful attempt to transform spaghetti-Western star Terence Hill into an American box-office attraction, Mr. Billion is one of those unfunny comedies with so many action scenes, onscreen smiles, tarted-up visual transitions, and upbeat musical cues that its desire to please the audience seems desperate—because, ultimately, Mr. Billion offers everything an audience wants except genuine entertainment. The story is a simplistic fable in the Frank Capra mode. When an American billionaire dies, he bequeaths his fortune to his Italian nephew, Guido (Hill). After this revelation, the billionaire’s nefarious executor, John Cutler (Jackie Gleason), flies to Italy intent on bamboozling Guido out of his inheritance. And while Guido initially seems like a rube—he’s a childlike soul infatuated with American cowboy movies—Guido insists on taking time before acceding to Cutler’s demands. Thanks to an iffy plot contrivance, however, Guido must arrive in San Francisco by a specified date in order to accept his money. And since Guido is afraid of flying, he travels by boat and train, allowing the filmmakers to present a “madcap” trek, during which Guido meets such stereotypical characters as ignorant rednecks (Slim Pickens alert!) and jive-talking African-Americans. Cutler also hires a prostitute, Rosie (Valerie Perrine), to seduce Guido into signing away his money—which means, of course, that Guido falls in love with Rosie and must eventually save her from Cutler’s henchmen. There’s not a single original idea in Mr. Billion, and director/co-writer Jonathan Kaplan can’t quite muster the right tonalities. Among other dubious choices, he shoots the picture in a dark, run-and-gun style that feels more suited to an exploitation movie than a laugh riot. Plus, while Hill is incredibly likeable, he’s hamstrung by the inability to master English dialogue. Furthermore, Perrine lacks the charisma that’s necessary for this sort of piffle, and Gleason’s performance feels utterly perfunctory.

Mr. Billion: LAME