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The Ravager (1970)

Dir: Charles Nizet
Joe Salko (Pierre Agostino) emigrated to America, became a citizen, and was then shipped off to Vietnam for his trouble! Tough luck pal!
Separated from the rest of his squad Joe wanders around a bit until he spies
two Vietcong rape and torture a woman hostage (the torture consisting of whipping
her with a belt across her bared breasts).
As he watches, the men (who are dressed in just the right clothes for blending
into a jungle, consisting of matching white t-shirts and knee length khaki shorts,
which resolutely stay on during the rape), finally kill the woman by shoving
a pipe bomb into a place pipe bombs were not designed to be stuck, and she promptly
blows up!
Joe is later rescued and shipped back home to Las Vegas where he is shoved
in a hospital to sort out the damage done to his fragile mind by such a terrible
sight. Therapy over he is then released.
Although supposedly cured Joe is in fact (according to the unknown, unexplained
narrator) A very sick man, with a very sick mind. OOPS!
To prove this the now bald Joe causally walks into a store and orders everything
he needs to make numerous bombs, from a shop keeper who jokes about someone
blowing the town up
Only in America!
Now armed with his explosives Joe heads on out to kill any courting couples
he can find, Joe was obsessed with just one idea
to kill people.
Particularly lovers, to replay the atrocity he saw committed in Nam.
Or something like that! You know how wacky these psychos are
.
Coming so soon into the 70s this far out lump of grimy schlock was actually
one of the first films to use the damaged Vietnam vet as a protagonist,
it beat the Hollywood boom by years and was out of the starting gate even before
those fellow Grindhouse/Exploitation titles like Forced Entry, which
would trail 2 years in the wake of The Ravager.
Despite this place in Vietnam cinema history though The Ravager
is something of a lost film, surfacing only on a beaten to hell print released
on DVD-R by those good folks at Something Weird Video.
Sadly though the film is hurt by this war wounded print.
The entire film suffers from some very obvious jumps where missing frames mean
we not only lose some dialogue but also some of the sex (possibly snipped by
a naughty projectionist in some Grindhouse booth!) and at one point it jumps
forward so much we only just catch an exploding car before the scene fades.
Even the end is cut short!
But this is all we have to work with so lets get on with it;

From the opening we are warned that this is going to be a movie that wallows
in its crude technical aspects and low, low budget, instead of trying
to work around such things, as nothing is done to hide the fact that Vietnam
is actually a patch of Nevada scrubland.
More goodness comes in the shape of Joes hotel room which is a shockingly
obvious set, with black painted walls, a false window with the curtains always
drawn and a bizarre mix of furniture obviously scrounged at random from here
and there (Set Decoration by Herman Thyson...what a genius!)

Hysterical technical moment to top all these hysterical technical moments though is when a woman drives away from a supermarket, with a hidden bomb in her car, and very handily drives off into the desert wilderness (and I mean wilderness, there is nothing for the eye to see for miles) so the car can blow up without any expensive planning, let alone damage to anything, that could threaten to push the films budget over that magic $50 threshold!
Belgium born Director Charles Nizet (supposedly murdered in Brazil in 2003)
also seems to have no idea that editing can be used to simply get to the point
and avoid the obvious.
Want to see in detail how Joe stakes out a woman victim? Well you can, as every
single knot for every single limb is shown being tied as we fight the desire
to go out and make a nice cup of tea until hes finished.

Throughout the film every move of Joes is painstakingly shown every time
he makes one, thus we lose all the energy that we should surely have given the
fact we have a plot about a killer who likes to watch people get naked before
blowing them to bits. Tension, thrills and chills should almost come naturally
given this set-up but good old Nizet ensures these things are as rare as hairs
on Joes crazy head.
As such your mind starts to wander even during the stalking sequences as all
tend to be the same in location and set-up; this means we have to constantly
follow baldy Joe as he slowly creeps along the sandy ground, slowly swims across
lakes and lethargically plants his little bombs before we get to the more interesting
moments when he sweats a lot, bares his teeth a great deal and watches the sexual
shenanigans of his targets before blowing his load (as it were). All scored
to easy listening jazz naturally.

Away from the utterly distasteful and nasty opening rape/murder (where the
camera ogles the totally naked woman as she is stripped and flogged in true
70s Exploitation style) the film is very tame for the most part when it
comes to sex and nudity with only the occasional, though very welcome of course,
glimpse of pubic bush on display.
But as with all these Grindhouse era works (especially those that mix sex and
death) even the mildest sexual moment feels steeped in grime. So when we are
treated to a late arriving moment of female masturbation (again though its
afflicted with those damaging snipped frames) the slime almost drips out of
the television. And as we know we wouldnt have it any other way.

Naughty Nizet also ensures that Joe takes enough time in actually detonating
his bombs though so the couples can deliver as much soft core sex and nudity
as possible before Joe gives them the kind of bang they werent expecting.
These plentiful victim scenes (it seems the Nevada desert is packed with as
many horny guys n gals as it is A-Bomb craters) include a couple
in a car who are reduced to draped limbs covered in blood (the only real moment
of bloodletting), and a couple out fishing who get naked between bites where
we are treated to fondling, kissing, tan lines and amazingly the guys
hairy arse
obviously this actor was not as shy as the two guys playing
the Vietcong nut jobs.
With the hairy boyfriend blown up Joe then rapes the woman and (we presume)
does something nasty with his little exploding stick
presume is sadly all
we can do though, as the print now suffers a huge jump cut that skips away from
the still ongoing rape to Joe running back to his boat to escape!

The most amusing victim sequence (though it has a cruel ending) is one introduced
by the following narration;
On this occasion Joe comes across two Lesbians, seeking their own brand
of thrills!
How come this never happens to me?
Mind you, dont get too hot at the thought of sandy Lesbians good reader,
as the actress playing the buxom blonde half of this relationship seems she
cant stand the touch of the other actress and even during a simple kiss
keeps the others lips as far as possible from hers as basic common sense
allows (as the other actress gamely tries to make out its really a passionate
snog) before hastily hitching up her bra.
Another classic line of narration comes to the rescue of this sequence though;
Even though Joe is loaded with hang-ups, one thing that bugs him are
girls that make love to each other!

Pierre Agostino is the only actor given any real screen time, bar Jo Long as
Joes interfering landlady, and as such he has to carry the film on his
less than mighty shoulders.
Such a task is basically killed at birth though as his strong accent makes his
bad line readings even worse, and all in all if it wasnt for the fact
he twitches so well, sweats like a pro and looks strangely like the lanky off-spring
of Peter Lorre Im sure he would never have worked again.
As it was 3rd rate schlock merchants Ted V. Mikels and Ray Dennis Steckler would
find employment for him later on. Steckler even going so far as to give him
the lead in his infamous The Hollywood Strangler meets the Skid Row Slasher
where he plays the aforementioned Strangler.
Beware though
Agostino now dwells in Las Vegas in semi-retirement (please
Pierre
make it full retirement for all our sakes) so anyone living or visiting
there should heed these words;
If you get horny after watching all those Elvis impersonators
dont
head for the desert to make out!

So what we have here is cheap, shoddy, badly acted, badly made and yet it has
that unique feel that such 70s Exploitation films have. You know the feeling
I mean
the one that makes you aware that such celluloid atrocities harbour
a guilty, grimy, never to be repeated pleasure that silently makes you applaud
the damn things for simply existing.
Quite frankly The Ravager has so much hoaky, politically incorrect,
occasionally nasty, always sleazy and just plain bizarre content that although
it fails to reach the heights (by a long way) that the greatest moments in Grindhouse
cinema reach, there is still much to have fun with here and if a less damaged
(indeed less ravaged) print ever appears of this rare slice of cinematic grunge
then the movie can only benefit.
But even then The Ravager would still be for hardcore bad movie/Grindhouse
buffs only, as such strange beings as ourselves would be the only ones to have
any chance of mining the nuggets of gold embedded in its dark hulk of smelliness.