Documentary Review: The Dogman Triangle: Werewolves in the Lone Star State

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2023
Images from the Internet

The Dogman Triangle: Werewolves in the Lone Star State
Directed by Seth Breedlove
Small Town Monsters; 1091 Pictures
74 minutes, 2023
www.smalltownmonsters.com/
www.facebook.com/smltownmonsters
#IndieHorrorFilms #DogmanTriangle #SmallTownMonsters #Cryptid #werewolf

Growing up watching the classic Universal monster films as a kid, creatures hold a soft spot for me. This is especially true for werewolves, for some reason. Where is Larry Talbot when you need him?

But director Seth Breedlove goes beyond into the realm of cryptids, urban legends that posits monsters like Bigfoot and the Jersey Devil are possibly real. While I do not believe so, I tend to enjoy stories about cryptids, and especially Breedlove’s take on them.

He has travelled around the country looking for them, and as far as were-creatures, he covered this topic in the more general American Werewolf (2022). For this one, he ends up more specifically in the second largest state in the Union, Texas, searching for the “Dogman” legend, a branch of werewolf. It would be easy to make a joke about ZZ Top at this point, but I will move on…

Aaron Deese

Based on the findings of author Aaron Deese’s 2023 book, The Dogman Triangle (he is also former Editor in Chief of Paranormality Magazine), Deese joins paranormal expert, author, podcaster (“Into the Fray Radio”), perennial Small Town Monsters host, and often Havana hat wearer Shannon LeGro on a tour of the Deep South, focusing on three points in the State (hence the “triangle” part), San Antonio, Dallas, and Houston, covering about 700 square miles. Each “point” is a chapter title.

It is important to note that though the word “werewolf” is bandied about because there is no official categorization, the term “dogman” is more accurate; in other words, it is not a person who converts into a wolf as in the lore, but rather falls into cryptozoology as a large wolf that can walk on two legs like a human. As with many cryptid monsters, the descriptions vary from “eyewitnesses” to the perceived form. I find this somewhat naturalistic version more interesting that the supernatural one in regard to transformations.

Shannon LeGro

There are three levels of observers scattered throughout the documentary. The first is the retelling of the folklore legends, usually dealing with the late 1800s to the 1950s, such as storytellers Ken Gerhard, Lyle Blackburn, and Nick Redfern from Britain. Then there are the third- and second-hand stories of people who knew people (e.g., neighbor, dad) that had a sighting, but did not have them on their own, like JoJo Santana and James Witter. Finally, there are those who claim they saw the dogman (or something like it), including Dawn and Michael Lucker, both of whom have different descriptions of size (a difference of 4 feet in height when upright). Worth noting, also, is Nick Losoya, an Apache who talks about a more skinwalker/loupagrou legend of the Indigenous people.

I like that the documentary addresses the possibilities of misidentification by the witnesses, such as a mangy bear (which can walk on its hind legs) or a wolf-dog hybrid (there are technically no wolves in Texas, but they explain it here), but fall back to it being a canid creature.

Deese, LeGro

Another direction they investigate that was keen to my interest was the “after effect” of a sighting, such as that of Tex Wesson, who suffered from PTSD for a while afterwards, and he is not the only one who mentions that in the film. In the many cryptid docs I have seen, this is an area that I do not remember being explored much, and honestly, I would love to see an entire film on just that: the psychology of the effects of seeing a cryptozoology subject in the flesh.

As for “tangible proof,” there is some given, such as footprints (though the two shown are totally different), a couple of grainy videos, and an audio track of howling. What we are mostly presented with are some incredible artwork by Johnathan Dodd (one of the financial supporters of this film, along with many, many others, is Swamp Thing illustrator Stephen R. Bissette) and animation by Chris Sealf. Also worth noting is the eerie music soundtrack by Brandon Dalo.

Considering the sheer volume of guns in the state (the most registered arms at 21 per 1,000 people), how are these things not hunted, extinct, and mounted on a mantlepiece like a deer head?

Fortunately for us, there is the promise that “Aaron Deese will return…” at the end of the credits. Goody!

Available on Cable VOD and Digital HD, as well as 1091 Pictures, iTunes, Amazon Prime Video, Vudu and FandangoNOW.

IMDB listing HERE

Two Reviews: The Dark Dealer, RepliGator

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2013
Images from the Internet

Whacked Movies is a label with a double entendre name that specializes in reissuing cheesy, straight-to-VHS indie films from the 1980s and ‘90s. And for that I salute them by reviewing two of them. Other than these films being released a year apart, there are other factors that group them. One is that Wynn Winberg co-directed the first, and produced the second, and both have actor Rocky Patterson. The other is that both were filmed in Texas.

 

The Dark Dealer
Directed by Tom Alexander and Wynn Winberg                       
85 minutes, 1995 / 2013
Whacked Movies     
www.whackedmovies.com 
www.mvdvisual.com

Mostly during the 1970 through 1990s, one of the common themes of horror films was the anthology, perhaps kicked into high gear by the EC Comics-inspired Tales from the Crypt (1972), and continued with the likes of Campfire Tales (1997), and Snoop Dog’s Hood of Horror (2006). Heck, I recently saw a film that uses this device called Johnny Dickie’s Slaughter Tales (2012), directed by a 15-year-old. The way it works is there are some standalone stories that may be connected in some way by an overarching framework. Sometimes it is just someone telling the story, or in this case of this film, there is a link via a mysterious room at the entrance of (death?) (hell?) where one plays a round of poker with, yes, the sarcastic and unsympathetic Dark Dealer (Mark Fickert)

Although this Texas-filmed – er – film was produced in the early-to-mid 1990s, there is a whole lot of ‘80s going on, from the tight dresses to the very, very, very big hair. And much like the direct to VHS of the period, the acting is generally not very good. There are some who shine a bit, like Gordon Fox as a milquetoast basement apartment dweller, and there are some that stand out in their audacity, such as Rocky Patterson as Pete, a collections enforcer for the mob, or Jeff English as Cracker, a wise-cracking drug dealer.

There are three stories. I won’t go into too much and give a lot away, because even though you can see it coming, I still don’t want to ruin it. One story deals with two lower-echelon gangsters hiding out in an apartment, terrorizing the meek occupant. Another focuses on a scummy entertainment lawyer who tries to steal a dead man’s music. The third has some poor young schmuck forced into breaking into a pharmaceutical company to steal drugs with his substance abuser girlfriend and her hyper dealer.

This is everything we used to love about the genre, when scouring the aisles of the local video store before the major chains ran them into the ground (neh, neh, Blockbuster, where are ya stores now?). The stories are outrageous but totally enjoyable, the gore is laughable (though a split body is well done), and the special effects pretty decent for the time period, which are both person-in-rubber suit, and digital. There is a computer in one scene where you can tell they were just starting to get to graphics; gotta love older technology, and appreciate how much has changed in such a short time.

Another aspect of the genre that this film uses extensively is the way it is lit. Dark rooms mean the use of primary color lighting. Creepshow (1982) used this a lot, for example. Splays of green, blue, and especially red fill the screen to indicate emotions, like fear, in the visual paradigm of the way music is often used.

Two of the short films, “KSS-X” (the bookended wraparound) and “Cellar Space,” were directed by Tom Alexander, while the "Blues in the Night” segment was directed by Wynn Winberg (who produced RepliGator [1996], also released on Whacked Films), though the film flows seamlessly. While both Alexander and Winberg have been active in the film business for many years; this is their only listed directing credit.

So, if you want a fun, empty calorie stuffer, this is a perfect way to spend a rainy evening, or just to veg out and have a giggle or a few.

 

Repligator

Directed by Bret McCormick       
Whacked Movies
84 minutes, 1996 / 2013
Whackedmovies.com
MVDvisual.com

“It is a silly place.”
- King Arthur, in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)

Oh, where to even start on this film… Let’s begin with the basic premise. In a secret government laboratory hidden in deep in the desert, a bunch of feuding scientists create a replicator (i.e., transporter) that is combined with a brainwashing software which turns males into luscious females who are programmed with “rampant nymphomania,” but when they have orgasms, they turn into upright human alligators (hence the film title).

Yes, this is a comedy, at the most base level possible, but it doesn’t really try to be anything else, which is why it succeeds, such as it is. For example, some of the characters include Dr. Kildare (played by the original Leatherface, Gunnar Hansen), Dr. Goodbody (scream queen Brinke Stevens, in a later shot scene shown twice!), Dr. Stanley Oliver (get it? Stan and Ollie…), Colonel Sanders, General Mills, Colonel Sergeant, Pvt. Lapdance, and Pvt. Poontang. You see what I’m saying.

Now, this is not to say this is lacking in entertainment. Actually, I found this more enjoyable than most of the output of anything associated with Seth Rogan, the Wilson Brothers (Owen and Luke), or especially Adam Sandler. This film is more like Porky’s (1982) meets The Lord of the G-Strings: The Femaleship of the String (2003): outrageous humor mixed with lots of nudity (though sex is discussed constantly, almost none is shown).

Dr. Oliver, played by Keith Kjomes, who is about the size of Oliver Hardy but with less hair, is also the writer of all this. He wisely wrote himself the best lines, and ends up with the hottest woman.

Speaking of smoldering females, nearly all seem to be in a constant state of being topless, or in provocative clothing, include the stunning TJ Myers, and a few others who are not listed in the credits, such as those who play the female version of West, and Pvt. Bruno. Of course being nearly undressed more often than not is the whole point, ainnit?

Most of the acting is so atrocious the cast seem to be in what I call John Lithgow sit-com mode (I don’t care how many Emmy’s he’s won, he was terrible on 3^rd Rock from the Sun). Okay, maybe not always that bad, but everyone seems to acting like a kid in a candy store, having a lot of fun filming this, especially the antagonist, Randy Clower (who plays Dr. Fields). In a 7-minute interview on one of the two extras, the director discusses how he was influenced by Roger Corman. I can see it, as far as low budget goes, but he seems to emulate the Cormen of the 1970s and ‘80s (e.g., Candy Stripe Nurses, Galaxy of Terror) rather than of the early ‘60s. Again, I don’t mean this as a bad thing, just an observation.  

This film is so ludicrous, so fun, it’s also a must see if you’re a fan of the genre. You won’t know whether to laugh, groan at the audacity or just say out loud, “What the fuck was that?” Perhaps the right choice is all of the above.

This is definitely a low budget gem in its own weird and twisted way. The digital special effects are laughable now, but at the time were pretty keen, such as laser blasts, people/gators exploding into green digital drops, and machinery that is now laughably antiquated.  As for the gators (which are actually closer to crocodiles, with wider and shorter snouts, though I agree that “RepliGator” sound better than “RepliCrock”), it’s obviously rubber masks (it is explained more in the “Making of” second extra feature) and hands that look somewhat cheesy, and yet also cool. People are attacked by the creatures and bitten, but rather than being killed, they turn into stereotypically swishy straight-imagining-of-gay zombies (though one transsexual character is shown in a somewhat gentler light)..

One of the things I like most about the film is, and I repeat, that it never, ever, ever tries to be more than what it is: a six-day shoot of epic lack of proportions, and the audience is all the better for it. No pretending that it’s a James Cameron sci-fi epic, or even a mid-budget Kristin Wiig comedy, this is solid juvenile, masculinist envisioning that culminates in what could be the wit-level of an hour-and-a-half fart joke. You may find it amusing, you may find it irritating, or you may find it highly offensive (and it is from beginning to end), but you will not be bored.

 

Full movie VOD:
 

Review: Clown Hunt

Text © Richard Gary/Indie Horror Films, 2012
Images from the Internet

Clown Hunt
Written, produced and directed by Barry Tubb
Seminal Films, 2010 / 2012
70 minutes, USD $19.95
Seminalfilms.com
Clownhunt.com
MVDvisual.com

Q: Why don’t people eat clowns?
A: They taste funny.

Actors become directors for a number a reasons. Generally speaking, and not discussing level of talent, the A-list actors have a creative need and/or can find the money because of who they are and they’ve also been paid outrageous fees for their services (e.g., George Clooney, Madonna). This becomes vanity projects for many to various levels of artistic success. For the B-list actors, it’s can be hard to have a career, so why not direct your own films as a showcase, as well as something to do while waiting for a paid part to come in. For the C- and D-list, well, most likely the only way they can find a part is DIY.


Barry Tubb as Wolfman


Barry Tubb falls directly into the B-list category. He’s been a semi-regular on a number of television fare, such as Friday Night Lights, Hill Street Blues, the Lonesome Dove franchise, and in the excellent Temple Grandin; he has been in a number of high-profile films, including Mask, The Legend of Billie Jean, and Top Gun (as Wolfman). But rather than being up where he belongs, his somewhat stalled career has led him back to his own state of Texas, and directing (as well as appearing in) his own film. This one is recorded in Tubb’s home town of Snyder, ‘bout a hundred miles southeast of Lubbock.

And what better way to get some directing steam off than with a horror comedy, such as this one? The thing about this sub-genre is it leaves lots of room for both social satire and broad comedy, and this particular release has plenty of both. In fact, it seems like it can’t make up its mind which one it should be, but to tell the truth, when you’re talking about something like clown-hunting safaris, that’s okay.

The premise is simple: a group of guys (and a cute gal who mumbles an awful lot) get together and go huntin’ for clowns in Texas. Apparently, they run in the wild, and one can obtain a license to hunt them (happy clowns only in the first week, then sad clowns after that). Of course, the real question is who is the real clown, those in make-up or these buffoons?

When the humor is at its broadest, the silliness comes out, such as having the television station reporting on the expedition be KLWN, or the hunt taking place at the Chuckle Ranch. The clowns, however, live in (as the sign states) “Giggletown, USA.” Sometimes, there are actual jokes, such as the one at the start of the review (which is said twice), or someone asking what were Elvis’ last words, being “Corn? I don’t remember corn.” But sometimes it’s quite witty, such as a bumper sticker that reads “Got Clown?” or the clowns pooping jelly beans. One of my favorites (and also repeated more than once) is the mention of the clown hunting magazine, Big Shoes Big Guns.

As for the social commentary, well, sometimes I wasn’t sure if it was making fun of things like the huntin’ mindset (as stand-up comic Eddie Strange once pointed out, is different than “hunting”), racism (“they don’t want to be called clowns anymore, they want to be called Comical-Americans”; or one of the characters being a “closet clown”), Texan fear of socialism (mocking of the Austin Communist Nation newspaper, where out of context one of the hunters shoots the movie critic, surely a personal wink-wink of Tubb’s), or social activism (protestors have signs like “Hunt Clouds Not Clowns” and “Save the Sillies”). For the latter, I was expecting some kind of PETA-style acronym, like “Clean Land of Wandering Ninnies.”

A sort of subtle possible nod at that huntin’ mentality, at least for me, is when the hunters shoot up an outhouse. I’m not sure if this is a regular southern thing, being the Yank that I am, but I do remember driving along Skyline Drive, in the mountains of western Virginia, and nervously seeing the door of a woman’s outhouse at a rest stop full of buckshot.

Another inconsistency is the clowns themselves. Sometimes they are seen as freewheelin’ and carefree (and apparently horny), and at other times conniving and intelligent, such as the mastermind Albino Willie (any reference to Texas’ own Winter brothers?; Willie, who is played by Trick Kelly, also acts as the lead sad clown). Apparently, none of them can talk and most just wander around like the humans in the first Planet of the Apes (it would not surprise me if that was the reference).

While there are lots of shootings in the film, there is very little blood or gore. Most of the hits are in the distance, but if someone is shot in the head, for example, there’s just a smudge at the entry site. In this frame of reference, this is a comedy rather than a Texas Chainsaw Massacre… come to think of it, that film was actually not very bloody either, if you look at it again, but was certainly a lot more gruesome than this one. Also, there is no real nudity to talk of, despite the three sex scenes, including the rape of a hunter by Albino Willie, played for laughs. Another moment is the less-than-subtle homo-erotic skivvy-donned male hunters who mud wrestle.

Despite all the groaners, this is a fun distraction that can appeal on a number of levels. Of course, if you have Coulrophobia (the fear of clowns) there are also two ways this can be taken: either it will be a joy to see clowns being killed, or, well, there are many, many clowns!. You’ll have to let me know which side of the coin you fall on in this situation.

The acting level is pretty good for an indie film, including a cameo by fellow one-time Patrick Swayze look-alike, B-to-C-actor David Keith. There’s definitely some scenery chewing, but nothing on a John Lithgow sit-com ac-ting level.

There are only two things that actually annoyed me about the film. First, and the least of the two, is the really bad rap song, “Killin Clowns” by Lil Endnz, which is played during the credits. Even for a rap song, it’s pretty awful. One would think that since we’re dealing with some good-ole-boys, there would be a bad country tune instead. The second is the very end shot, which makes no sense to me. Perhaps it is a reference to freedom? Freedom lost? I’m not sure, but I’m not going to go into detail and ruin it. ‘Nuff said.

The only extra is a “Slideshow” of behind-the-scenes stills from the filming. A commentary track by Tubb to explain his motivation of how to look at the social context would have been appreciated, or even including the trailer.

Still, this was a nice job. Not Clooney or Eastwood level, but a fun project nonetheless, surpassing other comedy horror films I’ve seen lately, such as ThanksKilling. An enjoyable diversion on a rainy weekend afternoon that is worth a giggle.


Bonus Video (A film by Trick Kelly, who also plays this character in Clown Hunt, as well as the lead anti-hero, Albino Willie):