As far as B-Movie geeks go, as a child growing up in the 1970's, I was deprived. Living in a farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska, I was stuck with a rabbit-eared television that had a grand total of four stations. Let me repeat that: FOUR STATIONS! The three major affiliates and a PBS station was all we had, and every stinking one of them went off the air around midnight. No cable. No satellite dish. And no local monster-movie showcases hosted by a cool ghoul announcer. Once an eon, you'd might get lucky and there'd be something on the late-late show that almost qualified as a B-movie, or perhaps on a weekend afternoon, when one of the affiliates wouldn't pony up for the fees for an NFL game and dig something strange out of their libraries (-- which is how I was introduced to Mario Bava in the form of What? a/k/a The Whip and the Body). Unfortunately, this was more naught than often, and by the close of the '70s, aside from a few Godzilla movies, the Planet of the Apes franchise, and a few Harryhausen re-releases, the number of B-movies that I had actually seen could probably be counted on one hand.

Dan Aykroyd tackled aliens, troubled teens and the brain. (Eek! A brain!) And it was a here that I got my first glimpse of the invading "hostile pipe welders" in Prince of Space, Ed Wood’s take on juvenile delinquency during The Violent Years, and the disembodied brains hopping around in The Fiend Without a Face.

Next, John Candy gives us a touching tribute to Ed Wood, some wonderfully demented previews of coming attractions (-- and does anyone else think the preview for Attack of the Killer Tomatoes is more entertaining than the actual movie?), and a nice, sincere segment defending the minor technical triumphs of these budget-strapped epics.

Then Cheech and Chong guide us through a tour of giants and little people, the animal kingdom gone berserk, and an intervention to "Just say no" by highlighting films about getting high. Colossal men and puppet people indulged my senses, and I also learned to avoid the fog at all costs our face the wrath of the 50-foot Chicken Wing (-- better known as The Deadly Mantis.)

Now as much as Cheech and Chong’s drug segment cracked me up, Radner’s memorable musical moments is my favorite part because, out of all the films featured in the movie, these came off as the most bizarre. Who can forget the Everly Brothers other brothers, the singing duo of Chip and Emil. (Emil’s the one with the slight muscle disorder.); the grand display of synchronized dancing during the banana ripening number in Sunny Side Up; and no matter how hard I try, I can barely get the 'La-La" song from Mantango (a/k/a Attack of the Mushroom People) out of my head. But the one clip that I can’t shake is the really disturbing "Going to Heaven on a Mule" number from the musical Wonder Bar that featured Al Jolson and others in black face as singing stereotypes. Don't believe me? Well, take a look for yourself:

Man that is just wrong. Weird, but wrong (-- and a hi-de-ho.)

And even to this day the film takes a lot of grief because along with the usual cheese-o-ramas, there are some genuine, bona fide classics like War of the Worlds, Creature from the Black Lagoon, and The Incredible Shrinking Man. These are the same folks who took the Mystery Science Theater folks to task for having the temerity to lampoon This Island Earth. How dare they besmirch these films! The audacity! The utter gall! Please. Lighten up, folks. I swear I will never understand the pompous doucheitude of some people on this subject ... It just smacks of someone trying to justify a juvenile habit -- like how some people insists comic books be called graphic novels. And that's just sad. Look, these movies aren't museum pieces to be kept under glass and analyzed from afar. Hell no! These movies are sandboxes, and whether you jump in feet first or head first is up to you -- have a blast, and just be wary of the turds you might turn up. And I do love and respect these movies just as much as the next film freak, some of them fairly dearly, and they sure as hell don't need anyone's protection. Really -- it's okay to laugh when others poke fun at them, because if you'd stop bitching for a moment and listen a little closer, you can see a true affection for these films shining through the all the jokes and barbs.

Unfortunately, nobody will be seeing this film again anytime soon anyway. Paramount was going to release it on DVD in 2002, but some last second copyright issues tanked it and it appears to be scuttled for good. So unless you can get your hands on an old VHS copy you're shit out of luck. However, at last check the film pops up on YouTube once in awhile, and hopefully it's still there.

It Came from Hollywood was by no means the seed by which my fandom sprung, but it helped fertilize a sapling that soon grew into a mighty, B-Movie lovin' oak. And as I look back through the credits and the list of films dismantled by the comedians way back then, I recalled how I vowed to someday view each and every one. I’m still working on it, but I’m happy to report that it’s now the number of films that I haven’t seen that I can count on one hand.