Death Game (1977)

It's not great by any means, but it's a pretty good movie that didn't leave me filled with regret for investing time in it.

It's the kind of movie you'll want to see a second time with someone who hasn't seen it yet, to remember what it was like to watch it for the first time.

The film's masterful storytelling did its job. The message was clear. No need to overdo.

A film of deceptively outspoken contemporary relevance, this is cinema at its most alert, alarming and alive.

Slightly better than average thriller has a pair of lesbian tramps (Locke and Camp) begging off home-alone father (Cassel) for a phone call and a dry place to stop during a thunder-storm, becoming unwelcome house guests when they resort to sadistic games that taunt their host, threatening to implicate him for statutory rape and destroy his family.Quirky is the main adjective that comes to mind when describing this basement horror cheapie. Locke and Camp (who used body doubles for much of the nudity) make a frightening pair, while Cassel (who used a voice double) has little to do but lie on the floor bound and gagged, begging for his life while the two misfits trash his house. The film is essentially just the trio, with one brief and memorable exception from a delivery boy.Aside from the spa orgy, Cassel's ridiculous over-dubbing and the corny (but admittedly catchy) soundtrack, the film is also memorable for its outrageous conclusion. If you saw that coming, then you might be as twisted as these two ultra-vixens. A tense and violent mind warp, but worth a look if you're open-minded.

IMDb contributer johnmorghen does a scholarly job of breaking down the cinematic nuts-n-jolts of "Death Game" (a.k.a. "Mr. Manning's Weekend"), so I'll just share my memories of watching it.Like my IMDb sister rachelcronin, I saw this for the first time late one night on L.A.'s early '80s SelecTV subscription system. The set-up definitely grabbed my pubescent attention: Man minding own business in his San Francisco home...slightly lonely and sincerely blue because The Wife and kid are unable to return home in time to celebrate his 40th birthday. Clearly cultured and successful, Man makes due during a dark and stormy night with a roaring fire and a high-end Marantz stereo to reacquaint himself with an old familiar jazz chanteuse (Maxine Weldon then who would be Sade today). Suddenly, there's a bustling at the door which Man opens to find two shivering young girls begging for reprieve from the rain. With decency at heart, Man takes pity and allows the soaked-through strangers into his plush abode. One thing leads to another and Man makes the mistake of giving in to a temptation even someone happily married might be hard-pressed to resist: a menage a trois with all the amenities of home (hot tub, mellow groove on the box, top-shelf cognac, favorite neighborhood pizza and the PERFECT excuse of The Wife being away on YOUR "special day" - the nerve). Like all that is overly idyllic in nature, this scenario proves too good to be true. For his fleeting hour of fantasy bliss, Man is subjected to 48 more hours of tandem temper tantrum torture at the whims of some psycho nookie from Hell - wicked "women-chiles" who begin to reveal their true colors at the breakfast table the morning after.When I was 15, this was WAY lurid and riveting. Years later, viewing a VHS rental, I found the second half to drag. "Death Game" could have been much better if the girls weren't just demented for crazy's sake and had a specific "she-woman man haters" motivation for what they wind up doing to poor "George" (Seymour Cassel with an uncredited actor dubbing his voice, giving the movie that "imported" schlock foreign feel). The Man just helped himself to some birthday ass, for chrissake! For thrillers like this, I like things twisted and gratuitous, but director Peter Traynor only hints at undertones of incestuousness as a possibility for what made these chicks 'set it off' on a dude old enough to be their "Good Old Dad" (thus the vaudevillian ditty that recurs ad nauseum). One wonders whether writers Anthony Overman and Michael Ronald Ross couldn't decide whether to play this out as a comedy or a suspense thriller, were intentionally shooting for some strange hybrid of both, or just coke'd out of their minds when they hatched this plot fresh out of some sordid fever dream. I must confess that all was forgiven when that out-of-left-field ending smacked me upside the head, though. Let's just say every dog has his day and these bitches received their comeuppance in spades. While much has been written here about how annoying the "Good Old Dad" song is (which it really is but, I believe, to the director's desired effect), I found the other moody jazz piece "We're Home," arranged by Jimmie Haskell, to be quite exceptional. The line "The sky tells us..." haunted me long after the film had finished. To this day, I imagine pulling that treasured Maxine Weldon 78 down from a shelf, blowing the dust off, gingerly setting the needle down and having it comfort me in the throes of some dark and stormy night...a night I'd gaze longingly into the fireplace, nursing a Makers Mark until - suddenly - there's a knock at my door, which I open to find a '70s-era Pam Grier (in the ringleader Sondra Locke role) and Vonetta McGee (in the doe-eyed Colleen Camp role) - inexplicably in halters, hot pants and flip-flops - shivering and in need of shelter from the storm.Men...

...Imagine this. On one dark, rainy night, two sexy young blonde girls show up on your doorstep, soaked to the skin. They feed you some sob story about being lost and, being the trusting gentleman that you are, you invite them in. Once inside, the flirtatious girls waste no time striping seductively to their underwear. One thing leads to another and before you know it, the three of you are in your hot tub.... This might sound like every red-blooded man's fantasy but the next morning things turn nasty. Those sweet girls turn "psycho girl" on you. They tie you up, slap on some freakish make-up and proceed to inflict their sickening mind games on you. Will you live to regret your night of three-way nookie? That is basically what this film is about. It is no masterpiece of drive-in cinema but well worth seeing if you enjoy those kinds of low-budget movies. Fans of Nikos Nikoladis' 'Singapore Sling' might also want to give this a look. Both films have the same basic premise and some might come to realise that 'Sling' is not so original after all. Although do not go expecting the same amount of sleaze as 'Sling'. Also, look out for one of the best 'what-the-hell' endings you will ever see.

It's a bad movie from the 70s about killer lesbian hippies taking on the establishment. Sort of like a "Thelma & Louise" without any feminism. Both painful and compelling, the film had tense and giddy, while also wishing it would just end.And then the end came and I was utterly baffled and amused. The final 10 seconds of the movie over, I blurted over and over, "What the hell was that?" I backed up, watched it again.Then I forced my girlfriend (who had not seen the movie) to watch it."That is pretty weird," she said.Pretty weird? It makes no sense at all! Wow! If you enjoy odd, bad film, I think you'll love this movie. Even when it's at its worst, it's fun. There's the 1970's moustache "wakka-chikka" aspect. Then there's the campy screaming semi-naked young women. And then there's the goofy, straight-faced, comical horror movie aspect.Given the ending, I assume the people making this film knew they were joking. They had to know. Or else they thought the ending was deep. I don't know. But I am forced to admit that I really, really enjoyed this film a lot.