The Raging Bull of Pro Wrestling Movies



One summer I lived a about block away from a Hollywood Video store that was going out of business, and decided to take a stroll on down to see what kind of bizarro obscuro I could find on the cheap. All of their VHS was a dollar a piece, so I got my gluttony on and loaded up with B movie madness. The very last title I came across was Grunt: The Wrestling Movie. Seems like I had seen this poor deranged looking cardboard box in one video store or another since I was a toddler. All in all that day, I grabbed 72 of the most warped looking VHS titles to ever stain the palm of my hands. Getting them home was a bit of an issue since my car was in the shop. However, the raccoon eyed clerk came up with the grand idea of stuffing them all into a doubled up garbage bag for me to tote, and tote I did. It must have been quite the sight to see a 6″3″ man child grinning from ear to ear as he makes his way down the side walk with a lumpy white bag. I know my neighbors loved it when I reached the top of the stairs only for the trash bag to conveniently tear and have an avalanche of VHS tapes tumble down the steps. Timing, I got it, you want it.

As it turns out Grunt was the cream of the crop, a crop that would include Alice Cooper’s Monster Dog and 1975’s trash classic, The Black Gestapo. Grunt starts off with a black and white cinema style wrestling match. From there it’s shot pretty much all hand held and edited documentary style, with the story focusing on tragedy and triumph. There’s quite a bit of unintentional comedy, along with Scott Hall, about a decade before he would become Razor Ramon, making a cameo as American Starship Coyote. I guess that was a name just waiting for the right time to enter our cultural lexicon.

Grunt doesn’t care about anything as it invites you to join the absurd ride that it is, and you wont know whether to laugh or cry.



Werewolves on Wheels Doesn’t Have Time to be Good Because it’s too Busy Being Great



Werewolves on Wheels does not feature any actual factual werewolves riding a motorcycle, let’s just get that out of the way right now. However, this forgotten gem from 1971 is fun from start to finish, for it’s pace, cleverness, and unintended laughs. These bikers are not of the murderous racketeering variety, they’re just in it for kicks, man. Whilst partying a little too rowdy at an off the main road and assumed abandoned monastery, the local monks do their thing to freak the gang out and send them on their way. Soon thereafter, the good vibes are replaced with bad vibes, and although not every member may want to hear it, the time is nearing to put the partying aside and make some tough decisions.

You’re not likely to recognize a single face or credit associated with this movie. The biggest name involved here would be singer songwriter Barry McGuire of Eve of Destruction fame. Here he plays a substantial role and provides a very listenable soundtrack. This movie wasn’t so much shot on film as it was chiseled onto to gravel. The lighting is as muted as a bad water color painting. Sometimes, and I would have to think it is by accident, this works in the favor of  the story’s presentation due to what could be generously referred to as a limited budget.

Still, there is a lot of fun to be had here, you got quality nude dancing, implied Santanism, groovy tunes, and not just werewolves, but, quite possibly, the worst looking werewolf you’re ever likely to see. It’s as if someone went to a barber shop, swept up whatever hair was laying around on the floor, and scotch taped it to to the actor’s face.

No one would ever confuse this movie with art, but it will get you off on a goofy Saturday night.