Doc Watch: Mad Men, Part III

The wild days of yester-year:

EASY RIDERS, RAGING BULLS (2003) (B+) - The old Hollywood system was sputtering in the 1960s, and when the baby boomers came of age, they dismantled it with their version of the New Wave cinema birthed in Europe in the 1950s. The American wave -- which emerged with such landmarks as "Bonnie & Clyde," "The Graduate" and "Easy Rider" -- formed the bridge between the golden age and the dawn of the blockbuster.

Kenneth Bowser ("Phil Ochs: There But for Fortune") adapts a book by Peter Biskind into a comprehensive documentary celebrating the celebrated filmmakers who came of age during that time: Francis Ford Coppola, Peter Bogdanovich, Robert Altman, Hal Ashby, Arthur Penn, Martin Scorsese, Sam Peckinpah, Brian De Palma, William Friedkin, Dennis Hopper, Warren Beatty, Steven Spielberg, George Lucas and Roman Polanski. The film traces them back to a common denominator: the prolific B-movie king Roger Corman, who has gained respect in recent years for his influence. (Corman, Altman and Peckinpah also were the respected elders who paid their dues in the 1950s.)

The genius behind the narrative here is the ironic way in which the American New Wave was bookended by the B-movie aesthetic. Corman taught men like Hopper and Bogdanovich the nuts and bolts of movie-making, so that they could explore more high-brow fare, a la Godard, Truffaut and Antonioni. As the new breed stumbled at the box office and fell victim to drugs and other excesses, they were overtaken in fairly swift fashion by flashier box-officer fare, such as "The Exorcist," while the two clean-cut members of the fraternity -- Spielberg and Lucas -- redefined Hollywood in a classic way, with "Jaws" and "Star Wars," respectively.

Bowser assembles an impressive roster of interview subjects, although Bogdanovich and Hopper are the only hot-shot directors to participate. The others are represented through archival footage. Variety's Peter Bart is a go-to expert who seems to know where all the bodies are buried. We also get memorable storytelling from the likes of Karen Black, Margot Kidder, Ellen Burstyn, Paul Schrader, Cybill Shepard (unapologetic about breaking up Bogdanovich's marriage), Kris Kristofferson and a wonderfully animated Richard Dreyfuss. Others who provide sharp insight include cinematographers Laszlo Kovacs and Vilmos Zsigmond, as well as writers Gloria Katz ("American Graffiti") and John Milius ("Apocalypse Now").

By the time Coppola and Scorsese had peaked with "Apocalypse Now" (1979) and "Raging Bull" (1980), the New Wave had been drowned by a tidal wave of blockbusters. The Hollywood bigwigs had taken back the reins from the young bucks. As one observer noted, the studios didn't need hot-shot directors to show them how to succeed at the box office. Thanks to Spielberg and Lucas, they locked down a surefire formula that endures to this day.

ELECTRIC BOOGALOO: THE WILD, UNTOLD STORY OF CANNON FILMS (2014) (B+) - Join a wild romp through the 1970s and 1980s canon of Cannon Films, the production company led by Israeli maniacs Menahem Golan and and Yoram Globus.

Mark Hartley, himself a bit of a pulp filmmaker (this is his second "Wild, Untold Story"), assembles an army of survivors from that era who spin emphatically entertaining war stories about their days in the House of Hacksploitation. Golan was a trashy filmmaker in Israel, and Globus was the business guru, and together they took over B-movie maker Cannon Films, turning it into a C-movie maker. Golan had directed "Lemon Popsicle," which, in the late '70s, was the "Gone With the Wind" of the Israeli box office. Once in America, he eventually had the movie remade, nearly shot-for-shot, as the "Porky's"-style teen romp "The Last American Virgin."

Cannon became known for spewing out trashy fare at the rate of nearly a film a week. Other titles include "Schizoid," "American Ninja," "The Apple" (described here at "the Mt. Everest of bad musicals"), "My Darling Shiksa" (with Elliott Gould and Margaux Hemingway but apparently never released (or acknowledged)), and the embarrassing, ultra-cheap "Superman IV." Quickie scripts observed rigid checklists: nudity, blood, guts, explosions and more nudity. One interviewee describes the Cannon style this way: "It kind of resembles something ... minus good taste."

The actresses known for showing a lot of skin include Playboy bunny Barbie Benton, the epic Sybil Danning ("Chained Heat"), Bo Derek in the ludicrous "Bolero," Sylvia Kristel (featured here in a clip of a fencing scene between two topless women), Sharon Stone ("hated on the set"), and obscure wonders such as Martine Beswick and Lucinda Dickey. The roster reads like a Cinemax wet dream. There were the hunks, too:Charles Bronson (sleepwalking through the horrid "Death Wish" sequels ("It was more like watching a man golf, than act," a co-star observes), Dolph Lundgren, Jean-Claude van Damme, Michael Dudikoff, Chuck Norris, Sylvester Stallone ("Over the Top" -- arm wrestling!), and the inimitable Robert Forster.

Psychotic Director Michael Winner and cult legend Tobe Hooper ("The Texas Chain Saw Massacre") were go-to directors. As Cannon big-footed its way into Hollywood and Cannes, big-name filmmakers eventually signed on. John Frankenheimer and Franco Zeffirelli heap praise on Golan and his generosity to them. Golan-Globus also bankrolled John Cassavetes' penultimate film, "Love Streams." Jean-Luc Godard teamed up with them for "King Lear" (with Woody Allen and Molly Ringwald!). Barbet Schroeder hacked out "Barflly." Andrei Konchalovsky's thriller "Runaway Train" earned a gushing review from Roger Ebert.

The allure here is the enthusiasm and straight talk from the legion of talking heads assembled by Hartley, an overwhelming number of them looking quite well preserved, presumably courtesy of the plastic surgeons they can afford thanks to Cannon's millions. Golan, especially, was quite reviled (while also earning grudging respect in many corners for his love of movie-making). Several survivors spin particularly effusive stories from the bad-old days, complete with ranting imitations of the often-blustering and posturing Golan, characterizations that bring to mind a cross between Bob Guccione and Donald Trump. One highlight is a rapid-fire succession of folks uttering their favorite epithet for Golan and Globus ("Mayhem & Urine," "the Bad News Jews"). Derek, like most others, is droll and casual in trashing the Israelis for their ethically bankrupt business practices.

Hartley cuts from interview to interview like a fiend (being mindful to repeat name labels throughout), piling up dozens of survivors of the scene to serve this obvious labor of lust. He has an endless trove of clips to flash on the screen, whether it's blood spewing cartoonishly from a ninja warrior, a horrifying rape scene, or a midget in a cheap monkey suit. He crafts a perfect homage to a crazed era, one that you feel guilty about celebrating.