Zeegrade Reviews

Zeegrade Reviews
Movies for scumbags.

Saturday, March 26, 2016

Nicole (1978)

     Sometime in the late seventies, an obscure movie was made that told the tale of an arrogant millionairess who treats people like property until her curiosity wanes and they're ultimately dispatched by a murdering psychopath chauffeur.  Under most circumstances, Nicole, as it was originally titled, would have been forgotten quickly and lost to film oblivion where it most appropriately belongs, save for the fact that it contains the one and only nude scene of a young "Kathy Bach" who would reach the height of masturbatory fantasies of young men nationwide thanks to her portrayal of the scantily clad "Daisy Duke" in "The Dukes of Hazard" from 1979-1985.  Enter Troma Films, always scanning the celluloid gutter for repackaging, where they bought the rights to the only passable copy, renamed it Crazed and marketed it as the film with Catherine Bach's tits.  Well, it worked because I sat through this dull drama in hopes that I can save the next couple of unfortunate skin buffs from wasting an hour-and-a-half of their day that would otherwise be dedicated to internet porn.

     Malcolm (longtime television actor Ramon Bieri) pulls up in a pickup truck to Patricia's house after work and knocks on the door.  When nobody answers he lets himself inside.  He makes his way to the bedroom where a fully clothed Patricia is already standing in the corner in shock while his best friend, Hal is buckling his pants.  Defying logic, Patricia seems to have cheated on her boyfriend/husband? with someone uglier than her current paramour.  He physically resembles Salvador from Borderlands 2.  Good god, woman, how horny can you be?  In a rage, Malcolm bashes Hal's skull in with a rotary phone:

The late 70's. When phones were also melee weapons.

 Isn't it just like the delivery man to show up for the water cooler replacement just as you get done murdering someone?  In an attempt to silence Patricia's screams from alerting him, Malcolm smothers her with a pillow inadvertently killing her in the process.  So, how was work?  
     Besides being a pretentious snoozer, Nicole suffers from some of the shoddiest editing I've ever encountered.  Scenes are slapped together haphazardly without any semblance of coherency.  Couple that with the virtually inaudible dialogue and you are left with an audience so lost they need a compass to reach the ending.  The point of my early rant stems from Malcolm's exact place in this film.  Namely, the live-in chauffeur for Nicole.  If Patricia was his wife, why did he knock on the door?   He was carrying a lunch pail from his pickup when he arrived so, clearly, he wasn't working as a limo driver.  What happened?  How did he suddenly get the job and why hasn't anyone investigated these two deaths?  These questions are never addressed as Nicole (Gene Kelly protégée Leslie Caron, Gigi) enters the film and proceeds to play choral music loudly and disrobe to her bra and panties:

Most of my weekends encapsulated in one picture.

This all occurs to the annoyance of a faceless man who complains that the volume is driving him crazy.  Nicole's day basically consists of:
  • Attending sophisticated affairs with other stuffy, rich cunts.
  • Taking photos of scenes on her small bedroom television.
  • Shopping jaunts escorted by Malcolm and her large guard dog, Duke.
  • Buying the jeans off local hippie chicks.
  • Tearing out pages of a Playboy.
Sometime during this onslaught of minutiae, Nicole arranges for Malcolm to drown a middle-aged man that presumably was the one complaining about the noise earlier.  Who exactly this man is in relation to Nicole remains a mystery.  
     Bored once again, Nicole is watching television with her camera — the fuck is the purpose of that? — when a commercial for local car dealer, Fletcher "The Dollar Stretcher", piques her interest.  Flashbacks are interspersed implying that Nicole was denied a ride by this man when she was hitchhiking during some undisclosed time.   This man with hideous taste in style becomes Nicole's newest obsession and enlists Malcolm in tracking his car dealership down.  Fletcher, sensing that Nicole didn't come down to purchase a vehicle, instead arranges a date.  He gives her his address — he doesn't "believe" in phones — and next thing he knows, Nicole is at his door.  Incredulously, he acts like this visit is a total surprise!  Nicole begins peppering him with personal questions that ordinarily would send out red flags that she's an entitled bitch who thinks the rest of society is her lesser.  A snippet of her dialogue:
Nicole: "So, your father's a bum?" 
Fletcher: "No, not really."
Nicole: "Don't tell me he's a nine to fiver."
Me: "Did anybody see you enter this apartment?" (slips on rubber gloves)

Continuing at breakneck speed, Nicole and Fletcher are suddenly an item when the latter spies an attractive young lass in her ballet class.  Nicole notices his interest and during some pillow talk later that evening suggests arranging a threesome, making him the luckiest hairy bastard in history.  Soon Nicole is wooing Sue (the aforementioned Bach) and treats her with the same vain disregard for her particular thoughts or interests.  Sue is showered with new clothes, a guesthouse and for some anonymous reason, plastic surgery:

Even Daisy Duke's magic was powerless to this outfit.

I know what you're thinking.  You've been sitting there flaccid as an Amish pastor on Sunday morning, waiting for Bach's "big reveal".  This fucker makes you wait like, well... every girl you ever dated in high school.  Late one evening after another of Nicole's affluent socials, Fletcher, Sue and one horny old coot, retire to a houseboat to sleep.  Inexplicably, Nicole sleeps in the same room with the old coot who is clearly smitten with Sue while Fletcher gets to share bunks with the young babe.  Sue disrobes before going to bed:

Look at the size of that pineapple!

Over an hour in to get to the very scene that Troma went out and got the endorsement from Mr. Skin himself for.  Nicole begins to think that Fletcher is cheating on her with Sue (he isn't) and confronts him with her suspicions.  Fletcher wakes up and realizes that she treats him like a possession rather than a person and walks out on her.  Thoroughly dejected, Nicole turns to Malcolm once again to do her dirty work while she keeps Sue company along with Duke later that night.  She arrives to find the house empty and while inspecting the contents of the bedroom scenes are interspersed implying a time where Nicole fondled Sue's tits*:
*Unconfirmed tits. Possibly stunt boobs.

While perusing a magazine article, Sue returns only to be mauled to death by Duke.  In a panic, Nicole drives off realizing that her alibi no longer exists once Fletcher is dead.  She races to stop Malcolm while scenarios of all the witnesses who can easily attest to the police her connection to Sue's death torment her.  She arrives but is too late.  Malcolm is already digging a ditch as Fletcher's corpse is wrapped up.  Nicole berates Malcolm for killing him and the visibly perplexed chauffeur dashes off into the woods as the catty cunt wails over her dead lover.  I can see the Kardashian/West marriage ending in the exact same way.  Thanks Troma... fuckin' assholes.




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