Stereotyped and clichéd exploitation film about a serial rapist known as the Aspirin Kid (Ray Danton), who hangs out with a group of beatniks while continuing to victimize attractive suburban housewives. Set in beatnik bars and on the beaches of LA, with some humorous dialog and a misogynistic cop played by Steve Cochran who tracks down the Kid after his own wife becomes a victim, the film has a refreshing originality, though generally it is laughably ridiculous, with its goateed beatniks staring off into space while listening to recorded car crashes, jazz, and the worst Beat poetry ever recited. With Mamie Van Doren, and a cast of several familiar faces that would crop up in Beach Party films, its nearly done in by what is now referred as camp, though there is enough of a story there to keep it moving along.

The Beat Generation (1959)

** (out of 4)

It's not often where I come across a movie and I'm not certain if I should call it a masterpiece for what it is or call it one of the worst films ever made. The story has a woman-hating detective (Steve Cochran) trying to track down a serial rapist (Ray Danton). A twist in the story is that the rapist raped the detective's wife who is now pregnant. THE BEAT GENERATION starts off fairly decent as it tackled some issues that weren't normally talked about in 1959 but then it just keeps getting weirder and weirder and in the end we're left with a complete mess of a film but at the same time it's an original mess. For the life of me I couldn't help but feel that this 95-minute movie was over three hours because of its slow pace and the fact that so much is going on. Not only do you have the investigation into the rape but you also follow the rapist and his friend (Jim Mitchum) as they try to plan more attacks, which leads to the friend falling for one of the attempted victims (Mamie Van Doren)!!! Even stranger is a subplot dealing with the raped wife who now wants to have an abortion. Throw in the detective/husband who is rather obsessive and hates women just like the rapist! Oh yeah, there's also the entire stuff dealing with the "beat generation," which includes an ending with a hootenanny. The rape scenes are handled with some class as we never really see anything but we do here the women scream in terror. The ending, which I won't spoil, is just downright crazy as none of it makes too much sense but then again, nothing that comes before it does either. The cast features a pretty good performance by Cochran and Fay Spain as his wife. Jackie Coogan appears as his partner and we get small performances from Louis Armstrong, Vampira, Max Rosenbloom, Ray Anthony and Cathy Crosby. And yes, Jim Mitchum is the son of screen legend Robert Mitchum. Believe it or not, Mamie Van Doren is actually given a real role here and she too turns in a good performance. THE BEAT GENERATION is a complete mess of a film but at the same time it's very original and somewhat daring for its time.

An obsessed cop tries to track down the "Aspirin Kid," a beatnik serial rapist. MGM was not a noir studio, and I don't really know if you could call this noir but if it is, it's one of the most insane noirs I've ever seen. Like crazy, man. I hardly know where to begin. Dig this groovy cast, Daddy-O... Vampira, Mamie Van Doren (who steals the show) and real-life husband Ray Anthony, Charles Chaplin Jr., James Mitchum (a dead ringer for the old man), Jackie Coogan and performances by Cathy Crosby and Louis Armstrong. I think I can safely say it's the only noir that climaxes at a beat "hootenanny" where a guy randomly tries to wrestle the hero, who later chases the bad guy underwater while dodging harpoons. Yeah, this sh*t is nuts. The portrayal of beatniks is the standard Hollywood ridicule and parody. Has there ever been a positive image of beatniks in an American film? Even FUNNY FACE is pretty condescending. Steve Cochran (looking quite Clooney-esque at this stage in his career) is practically psychotic, setting up an interesting parallel with the villain (Ray Danton, turning the sleaze up to 11) as both are portrayed as misogynistic creeps. Being a late-period noir, there's more freedom to openly address subjects like rape and abortion. Although there is no graphic imagery, the screams of the victims are harrowing enough. The film is campy and trashy and yet also has a moral center... one which backfired for me when it came to the vile anti-choice message. It's hard to make a case against hatred towards women while also telling them they need to keep their rape-spawned babies. It was a pre-Roe v. Wade world, though. The Van Doren character sends mixed messages about the film's stance as well.

This review is rambling because frankly, I don't know what to make of this movie. It's all over the place. In most respects it's pretty bad but also weirdly compelling, and sometimes even hilarious, whether intentionally or not. I can't honestly say I liked it, but I sure as hell couldn't stop watching it.

On one level this movie is sort of pop psychology trying to make a subtle distinction between the slippery slope of ordinary misogyny (non- violent here) and serial rapist (extreme brutality of course). The contrast between two men with these hang-ups in relation to women seems an odd basis for a film script, but then this whole movie is pretty odd.

The attempt at a psychological overall theme fails to rise above mere exploitation in this 1959 b-movie time capsule complete with Mamie Van Doren at her bleach blondest and flirtatious best. Also you have some beatniks who say "lets have a hootenanny". And dig these cats as they really do have a hootenanny. Its a crazy beat event as self-absorbed oddball characters endeavor to find nihilistic and existential new ways to waste their time and practice the fine art of hanging out. Watchable chaos ensues as a campy b-movie police manhunt goes on literally in its midst. This is 1959 b-movie heaven, complete with Louis Armstrong and an inexplicable role for Cathy Crosby that is so out of place it actually adds more camp to the camp.

Fay Spain carries the acting load as she did in numerous movie roles and countless fine and noticeable performances in TV dramas. She was a true acting talent. Steve Cochran, once one of those incredibly beautiful male actors who populated 1940's and 50's movies, is clearly aging here and gives a sort of disinterested, hangdog performance that is not among his best. Ray Danton, another movie stud of the era, is convincing as the psycho, but unfortunately is only allowed to perform at a strictly b-movie level.

Fay Spain is the real deal. Aside from her this is just a fast-paced psychological mumbo jumbo of a b-movie that is priceless as a time capsule of the age.

With no apologies to Jack Kerouac, this is an odd mix, to say the least. The title and the backdrop is a surreal, but stereotypical set-up with some Real Gone Cats looking drugged-out and oblivious to all except contemplating time and space. What goes on here is an Ed Wood like combination of some very odd bedfellows.

The Beats are interesting with crazy mixed up stuff like Poetry Readings with white rats on the shoulder, sleazy, soft spasms of youthful Ecstasy, listening, on record, to what might now be called Industrial Music Samples, and an out of place Louis Armstrong on stage.

There are some very strange, and for the time daring, sub-themes like Rape, Abortion, Serial Killers, and two Women Haters as the Leads. There is bizarre, incomprehensible stuff like a Wrestling Match (out of the blue), and an ending that takes place underwater with scuba gear (huh!).

There is enough quirk here to fill three Movies and it is all fascinating to behold. An undeniable underground Classic that is marvelously mishandled and has more angles than a Picasso. It is all so gut-wrenchingly charming that it cannot be overlooked and is a great example of Hollywood with its most unflinching, insoluble, insights and misrepresentations that makes the jaw drop and the Brain boggle.