"It takes all kinds of critters to make Farmer Vincent's fritters."
Due to my The Texas Chain Saw Massacre revisits, its initial sequel fell into my stream: a comedy of gruesome proportions, its unconventional angle even considered avant-garde to some. I suppose, as far as sequels go, it does catapult its macabre foundation toward an unexpected trajectory, but transplanting Tobe Hooper and Kim Henkel's grisly components into all-out camp occurred, in fact, six years before The Texas Chain Saw Massacre Part 2's release, with MGM/United Artists' high-profile Motel Hell.
Directed by the prolific Kevin (From Beyond the Grave/Frankenstein 2004) Connor and scripted by Robert (Nightflyers 1987 & 2018) Jaffe and Steven-Charles (Near Dark/The Fly II/Star Trek VI) Jaffe, the 1980 submission extends the satirical standards set by Little Shop of Horrors, Bucket of Blood, The Gruesome Twosome, The Gore Gore Girls, The Undertaker and His Pals, Deranged, Flesh for Frankenstein and Blood for Dracula. In other words, it's funny yet grotesque in an ol' Grand Guignol way, but perhaps more than that, it's headlined by an unexpected, western icon: Rory Calhoun.
As Farmer Vincent Smith, Calhoun creates a character who's welcoming yet deceiving, a man who captures folks, cutting their vocal chords (so they won't holler for help), then planting them in his garden (their burlap-sacked heads protruding like flowers from the earth), and then when the time is right, he saws them apart to use as the ingredients for his famous "fritters."
Despite Calhoun's many seasoned portrayals, in particular The Texan's long-term Bill Longley, Farmer Vincent is considered the actor's most recognizable role, even though the casting came late in his career. It nonetheless staged a string of additional, exploitation appearances: Hell Comes to Frog Town, Angel, Avenging Angel, Roller Blade Warriors: Taken By Force and the Tales from the Crypt episode, "Oil's Well That Ends Well."
Calhoun's castmates do well by him: Nancy (Porky's/Sudden Impact) Parsons as Ida, (Vincent's irascible, partner-in-crime sister); Paul (Grand Theft Auto/CHIPs) Linke as Sherriff Bruce (Vincent's blindsided brother); and Nina (Cobra/Time Walker) Axelrod as Terry (Vincent's unwary love interest); along with guest shots from Wolfman Jack, Elaine Joyce, Dick Curtis and John Ratzenberger.
Lance Rubin's score is a major highlight (its execution comparable to Jerry Goldsmith's for Magic), creating a mood that weaves pensive doom. Thomas Dell Ruth's photography underscores that doom with doleful and lurid hues, which capture the story's juxtaposing swings.
Available releases of Motel Hell feature bonuses, including interviews with Connor, the Jaffes and Linke. There's even an affectionate, Shout Factory, Sister Ida featurette, which pays high homage to Parson's popular persona. (MGM's Midnight Movies Double Feature, in which Motel Hell is teamed with Alan Ormsby/Jeff Gillen's Ed Gein-derived Deranged, is also worth seeking for its psychotic cohesiveness.)
In my estimation, Motel Hell is a horror-comedy classic. I suspect that I'm not alone in that sentiment. If you like any of the aforementioned movies, in particular The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2, you may find Motel Hell an ideal fit. It certainly can't hurt to give it a nibble. If you do, dear ol' Vincent might even swing by with one of his souvenir, sampler boxes. Now, wouldn't that be a hardy treat!
"Meat's meat, and man's gotta eat."
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