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The 100




Three on a Meathook
(1972)
Reviewed by Joseph Bannerman
Rating: 6.5 Beans

hinking I was renting the sequel to the uproarious Cheech Marin comedy, "Shrimp on the Barbie", I was not prepared for the buffet of mediocrity which presented itself before me. There would be no wholesome Cheech Marin goodness to be had. Only a healthy dose of pain.

So, it goes pretty much like this: some girls break down on a deserted dirt road, seek help at a "spooky" farmhouse, and end up dead. I mean, read the title, man, we're not talking Shakespeare. Then, of course, there's the mandatory lousy acting, backwoods inbreds, gratuitous nudity and special effects which were outdone by the effects in my 10th grade Video Yearbook. Having grown somewhat callous from the many horror films I have seen throughout my life, these attributes I find to be standard, and easily overlooked.

But one harrowing factor could not be overlooked. Nor forgiven. There's a scene where our hero is wandering about the city, soul-searching, I guess, and in the background is this horrible song. So he's walking about for a good while, song drones on and on, and as he enters a bar I think this musical atrocity will finally end. But lo and behold, what do we find in the bar? The band playing the damn song! So then I'm subjected to "concert footage" of this talentless band (I use the term "band" very loosely) playing the rest of their wretched song. As the song ends and I'm about to take an aspirin to relieve the throbbing pulse in my temples, they break into yet another song!! I had to endure two migraine-inducing songs in their entirety! Someone in the band must have been pals with the director (William Girdler), because those jackasses wouldn't even cut it on Star Search. By the time this musical interlude was over I had almost succumbed to pulling the eyeballs out of their respective sockets and plugging my ears with them. This had to have been the worst case of film padding I have ever witnessed. Damn you, William Girdler!!






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