Joe Don Baker has made some slip ups in his time but truly, Demon Mountain, or Shadow of Chikara as it is listed here has to be up at the top of the heap. The film hurts. I mean physical torture. I think I'd rather have my eyeballs put through the VCR than put this tape in my machine again. I got this thing dirt cheap, and I got robbed. It's worth less than dirt.
A little rule of thumb for you bad movie lovers out there. Sign #32 that the movie you are about to watch is a stinker; it has more titles than you can think of for it. This film's library of title includes The Ballad of Virgil Cane, or The Curse of Demon Mountain, or perhaps you are more familiar with Shadow Mountain, or some even call it Wishbone Cutter, but whatever you wish to call it, the old line about roses and stank still applies. This thing stanks.
When a movie cannot even bother to watch the length of its heroes sideburns, what can be said? Watch Joe Don Baker's mutton chops in several scenes (especially the one where they first meet the girl). From close up to wide shot, his sideburns morph, long and short, and back and forth. That's not incompetent, that's just sad.
The plot involves a bunch of Civil War vets from the South who make a trek up that titular (Well quasi-titular, the mountain is mentioned in a few of the gazillion titles anyway) to what purpose I admit I cannot recall. You can bring criticism down upon me now, and question my integrity as a reviewer, but the way I see it, I am doing you a favor.
It goes on and on and on like the gasping monologue the Slim Pickens delivers at the opening of the piece (During a Civil War battle scene slightly more engaging than something reenactors from that period could do. And I'm talking in the condition they are in NOW). You feel sad for him, and you feel sad for Joe Don (I mean the guy is not a superstar, but even he deserves better than THIS), but most of all you feel sad for yourself.
A little rule of thumb for you bad movie lovers out there. Sign #32 that the movie you are about to watch is a stinker; it has more titles than you can think of for it. This film's library of title includes The Ballad of Virgil Cane, or The Curse of Demon Mountain, or perhaps you are more familiar with Shadow Mountain, or some even call it Wishbone Cutter, but whatever you wish to call it, the old line about roses and stank still applies. This thing stanks.
When a movie cannot even bother to watch the length of its heroes sideburns, what can be said? Watch Joe Don Baker's mutton chops in several scenes (especially the one where they first meet the girl). From close up to wide shot, his sideburns morph, long and short, and back and forth. That's not incompetent, that's just sad.
The plot involves a bunch of Civil War vets from the South who make a trek up that titular (Well quasi-titular, the mountain is mentioned in a few of the gazillion titles anyway) to what purpose I admit I cannot recall. You can bring criticism down upon me now, and question my integrity as a reviewer, but the way I see it, I am doing you a favor.
It goes on and on and on like the gasping monologue the Slim Pickens delivers at the opening of the piece (During a Civil War battle scene slightly more engaging than something reenactors from that period could do. And I'm talking in the condition they are in NOW). You feel sad for him, and you feel sad for Joe Don (I mean the guy is not a superstar, but even he deserves better than THIS), but most of all you feel sad for yourself.