Thanks to the schemes of his friend con-man Peirous (Rod Taylor), strongman Glaucous (Ed Fury) finds himself, along with a bunch of other schmoes, stranded, in the Queendom of the Amazons where gender roles are reversed. The men aren't exactly thrilled but the buddies catch the eyes of the two Amazon warriors in line for the throne. As Glaucous tries to escape with the lovely and level-headed Antiopie, blamed for the theft of the sacred girdle by her rival. Since the real thief is Peirous, there's more than enough confusion than on a "Three's Company" episode, but the sexes come to an arrangement in time to fight off a band of pirates after the Amazon gold.

A botanist and reporter on an expedition in the Himalayas stumble across a Yeti, which they capture and bring back to LA, where the creature escapes.

Here’s an odd but nonetheless fascinating time capsule of late- Sixties social unrest filtered through the mind of Florida-based sexploitation producer-director HARRY KERWIN. Yup, the man who made Strange Rampage, My Third Wife George, and Girls Come Too - and who was also the brother of Blood Feast star Bill Kerwin ­ wanted to tap into the same youth market companies Like AlP were so good at exploiting. But lacking the funds to make something along the lines of an Easy Rider or a Wild in the Streets, Kerwin blissfully dispensed with both fiction and actors and, instead, went out and filmed The Real Thing. Combining (rough, raw) authentic footage of bikers, peace protestors, and the crowd at a rock festival, he created the mondoesque It’s a Revolution Mother! a self-described "Documentary of Love" tied together with an exuberant (and often hilarious) anti-government-anti­ establishment-anti-Vietnam-war-pro-rebellion rant -written by TOM CASEY, director of Sometimes Aunt Martha Does Dreadful Things (’71) - delivered by an uncredited narrator who sounds like an AM disk jockey on speed.

Set amongst the oil fields of Oklahoma, a woman trapped in a marriage with a sadistic, brutalizing husband attempts to strike out on her own.

Beatniks? What beatniks? Two-bit punks, a closet rock-&-roll star, and an out-of-his-mind psycho: yes. Beatniks: no. Though The Beatniks was probably a last-minute title change to replace a less exploitable moniker, it didn’t make much of a difference to the audiences of 1960. After all, to a world emerging from the Eisenhower era, bohemian artists and beat-generation poets were seen as little more than socially maladjusted misfits in the same category as junkies, Commies, and teenage hoodlums — or the petty-crime crackpots running loose in this fast, fun, and naively hilarious saga of an overage delinquent who becomes an overnight sensation.

In a small Gallic village, tourists are regaled by street entertainers and brash prostitutes. One of the tourists, a black girl named Bessie, falls in love with local villager Bob, and he with her. Soon racial tensions erupt volcanically among tourists and townsfolk alike. All is forgiven when the respective parents of the hero and heroine save the village’s water supply.

After a bored couple attends a swingers’ party, the husband sets off on a jealous killing spree, picking off anyone who tries to sleep with his wife.

Actually, The Phantom Planet is really one of those damn phantom asteroids (resembling a giant bowel movement) that zips around space on its own power, and sucks the spaceship of DEAN FREDERICKS to its surface. Once Fredericks is exposed to its atmosphere, he gets dizzy, sees ten teenie-tiny men creep up on him, and shrinks inside his space suit (a great shot) until he’s only a few inches high. Next thing you know, he’s having a fist-fight with one of the little men right inside his space helmet! Yes, boys and girls, it’s another sci-fi kiddie matinee full of rockets dodging meteors, aliens in fiery space ships, an astronaut who floats to his death reciting “The Lord’s Prayer,” an allegedly “advanced race” that lives in a self-imposed “primitive” lifestyle because they once had too much leisure time on their hands (huh?), and, best of all, what may very well be the funniest-looking monster in movie history. And, because it’s all set in the futuristic world of 1980, everything is carefully explained with a lot of scientific jibberish that doesn’t make a goddamn bit of sense.

A psycho sex-fiend keeps his infantile girlfriend Vicky in submission with candy bars, toys and, yes, hot wax. But when they plan on killing a wealthy lesbian, Vicky discovers she likes a woman's touch and plans a nasty surprise for her boneheaded boyfriend.

Not a lot is known about this exploitation clip-collage which examines the classic marijuana scare-films of the 1920s through the 1940s. However, the year of release, tone of the narration, and the complete lack of credits indicate that The Devil's Joint may well have been some kind of underground film. After all, it was released around the time when vintage drug films like the 1936 Reefer Madness were being rediscovered by a new generation via midnight screenings at smoke-filled theaters and college universities. The tone here is cleverly set from the opening text which informs us that the film has been made without the cooperation of the Whit House, FBI, or local police authorities. In case you still didn't get the hint, The Devil's Joint then shows us a clip of TICHARD NIXON stating that he is here to tell us the truth despite his honesty and integrity being under question, before cutting to grisly newsreel footage of Chinese opium users being executed in the 1930s. What follow is essentially a series of extended clips from a number of the most notorious roadeshow drugsploitation films including Reefer Madness (of course), as well as a silent film from the 1920s called The Pace That Kills For the most part, the film wisely lets these clips speak for themselves, although a narrator does give us a quick rundown of all the propaganda clichés used in the drug scare genre, and during sequences which depict stoned people fighting, Batman-style "Pows!" and "Zaps!" flash across the screen. Occasionally, silent-movie-style text cards pop up displaying lurid pulp blurbs like "An Innocent young virgin under the spell of the Killer Weed! Will she fall prey to man's lust?"

Awwwwww, freak out! Noted Percocet hound SONNY BONO, replete in shiny orange suit, dishes about Marijuana and how its users are cooler than those "square and unhip alcoholics". Still, the film illustrates the downsides to grass, such as seeing yourself in a mirror with a spooky monster mask, careening off a cliff, or -- in the case of one Nigerian pusher -- executed. You also see a monkey taking bong hits in a lab, which is, quite frankly, priceless. But Narcotics: The Inside Story shows you a bunch of rats hopped up on pills, which is far more entertaining than watching the computer animated antics of Stuart Little; followed by happy-go-lucky teenagers enjoying a seemingly unrelated beach blanket barbecue featuring a rather milquetoast volleyball game and weenie roast. Also featuring: Focus on Heroin, Thinking About Drinking, The PCP Story, and more.

A story of an executive and his nubile wife arriving in a new town and tangling with the S&M-tinged gang from the local exotic nightclub.

Sex, drugs, and a rubber monster mask in another Argentinean rarity from EMILIO VIEYRA, the director of The Curious Dr. Humpp! Then he plays his organ. Preying upon the "swingers" who frequent a local nightclub, Rubber Face lures babes with his own haunting theme song, turns them into love-slaves with heroin, and slobbers all over them while still wearing that stupid monster mask.

Reminiscent at times of Russ Meyer during his black & white drive-in period, crossed with a smattering of vintage Herschell Gordon Lewis-styled histrionics, Shanty Tramp is one of those films which makes it such a joy to be a fan of Sixties exploitation sleaze. Indeed, the film remains a virtual primer of exploitation requirements, and has retained its power to fascinate, repel, and excite.

An investigator goes after the people who are corrupting the nation's youth by spreading the weed of Satan - MARIJUANA!!!

Hercules searches for a mysterious phantom invader that is raiding villages in the desert for gold.

Three girls on a tour of the English countryside meet up with two young women who introduce them to the joys of life in a nudist camp.

Ignore the title. It's a great one alright, but Hollywood After Dark evokes images of movie stars, casting couches, and back-lot orgies which can be found in Starlet or The Masterpiece but not here. No, this one's about a loser in love with a stripper who gets involved with a deadly robbery. And though it ostensibly takes place on the fringes of Hollywood, except for a shot of the Hollywood sign, it could've been made in Anytown U.S.A. It's also another of director JOHN HAYES' brooding meditations on life pretending to be a sexploitation film. like its companion piece, The Rotten Apple (another Hayes! McClanahan collaboration), it can best be described as Existential Exploitation, and, like all of Hayes' films, aspires to be something smarter and more profound than just another "B'" Rue Mclanahan