Not Quite Hollywood: The Wild, Untold Story of Ozploitation! is the breeziest, most fun documentary I’ve enjoyed since Once In a Lifetime. Small wonder, as this film revels in the glamor and grit of the height of the Western Civilization, the 1970s. Mark Hartley has created a relentless and exhaustive tour of seemingly every Australian exploitation film, from cheeky T&A lad flicks to nasty slasher films, and everything in between. If you’re hankering for a variety pack of car explosions and other automotive-themed noir, gratuitous excuses for bared breasts, booze–fueled exploits, and psychotic killers on the rampage, Not Quite Hollywood delivers by the bucketload.

For all its crassness and over the top scenes, Not Quite Hollywood is a very affectionate and surprisingly respectful look at Aussie exploitation. In the late 1960s, the Australian government , in a misguided attempt at international prestige, began funding films and encouraging a homegrown film industry. Every joker with dreams of being the next Cecil B. Demille wasted no time taking advantage of this federal largess, but the resulting films were not precisely what the government had in mind. Things really started getting rolling when the government introduced the “R-certificate” in 1971, which abolished almost all film censorship in the country.

Not Quite Hollywood is divided into three rollicking chapters: “Ockers, Knockers, Pubes and Tubes”, “Comatose Killers and Outback Thrillers”, and “High Octane Disasters and Kung Fu Masters”. The first chapter is a gloriously seedy look at Aussie T&A flicks, starting off with the “educational” films about sex, which predictably degenerated into all out sex romps, beginning with the hit series “Stork,” which chronicled the erotic adventures of an unlikely playboy. The McKenzie film series also reached new cultural heights, with plenty of booze, racist jokes, dogshit, smutty double ententes, and gallons of vomit. (The directors describe how the different kinds of vomit were made). To give you an idea of how classy this documentary is, director John Lemond is interviewed in a strip club with a pole dancer gyrating behind him. Respectable film critic Philip Adams is on hand to offer dry and scathing wisecracks on the film industry’s most boorish moments, but you know he is cracking up just as much we are.

Quentin Tarantino (who assisted Hartley with financing and producing Not Quite Hollywood) gives his usual hilarious reviews of the films, giving special praise to director Brian Trenchard-Smith. (Tarantino dedicated Kill Bill to the Trenchard-Smith). Tarantino is practically frothing at the mouth and jumping out of seat with love for these Australian films, describing them as “so bang on that the Italians did rip offs them.”

Not Quite Hollywood is chock full of insane anecdotes, such as the production of Sandy Harbutt’s Stone, which involved near fatal stunts, real pot smoking, and rioting Hell’s Angels. And if you thought Dennis Hopper was out of control for Easy Rider, that was nothing to compared to his tear through Australia for the production of Mad Dog Morgan. The 1978 film Stunt Rock features Sorcery, a rock band who Trenchard-Smith had to “find by Monday” or the Dutch company funding the film would pull the plug.

And that’s just for starters. Apparently Jimmy Wang Yu, the legend behind Master of the Flying Guillotine, was a racist prick who actually beat up the local Australian stuntmen during the filming of The Man From Hong Kong. The film features ridiculous car chase scenes that were filmed without actual traffic control or police permission.

According to Wikipedia, more than sixty films are referenced in the documentary; Not Quite Hollywood is a comprehensive look at a wide range of directors, editors, actors, stuntmen, and critics. Other than Mad Max, I have not seen any of these films, but I know I have to hunt down at least half of them. Not Quite Hollywood is a superb documentary that will impale the heart of any die-hard film geek and anyone with an Aussie fetish. The ideal party movie for your next raucous get together, Not Quite Hollywood is absolute, genuine apeshit, with editing that is nothing short of miraculous.

“I heard an old Chinese expression. It is easier to kill a coward than to insult him.”

Master of the Flying Guillotine is the arguably the greatest Shaw Brothers film ever made. Jimmy Wang Yu’s masterpiece has carved itself upon Martial Arts Film consciousness in all its baroque absurdity, and stars the most ludicrous and frightening weapon ever to grace the silver screen. Master of the Flying Guillotine also sits proudly with The Great Sequels that have surpassed their sires, such as The Empire Strikes Back, The Wrath of Khan, and Evil Dead 2. But most of all, Master of the Flying Guillotine is a savagely funny film, showcasing Jimmy Wang Yu’s audacious and elaborate black humor while still retaining the fast-paced rhythm and grim tone of a solid Shaw Brothers beat ‘em up.

Continuing the epic saga of One Armed Boxer, Master of the Flying Guillotine opens with a surreal and disturbing scene. A blind old man discovers, via pigeon post, that the One Armed Boxer has killed two of his disciples. The message leaves out the part that it was self-defense, not that it matters; the blind man is an assassin for the Manchu regime. Well, what’s a blind old man gonna do to the invincible One Armed Boxer? Kam Kang, in a career-defining role, demonstrates precisely what a blind old man is capable of. This Shaw Brothers Stevie Wonder whips out the Flying Guillotine, a contraption that is essentially a round cap attached to a long chain. The cap’s exterior is ringed with a buzz saw, with a second set of whirling blades inside of it. What you do is simply toss this cap on someone’s head, a chute drops the whirling interior blades, and then you yank the cap back to retrieve the head in question. Any questions?

The old man proceeds to toss this Frisbee of Death about with horrifying accuracy; he chops off the heads of several practice dummies, and then for laughs, lops off the head of a chicken who was clucking around in the wrong place. The Master of the Flying Guillotine also happens to be The Master of the Hand Grenade. He extracts a little grey explosive ball from his robes, and chucks it behind him. This blind old man just blew up his own house, and he doesn’t give a damn. Cripes. Disguised as a Buddhist lama, the assassin hits the road with one mission: Bring Me the Head of the One Armed Boxer.

We cut to the scene of the One Armed Boxer (director-star Jimmy Wang Yu) training his disciples. The One Armed Boxer demonstrates his incredible jumping and balance by walking around the rim of an empty wicker basket. (While you’re dazzled by that move, suspend your disbelief and pay no attention to Jimmy’s suspicious arm-shaped bulge in his shirt). The school then learns that there is a major martial arts tournament coming up. The One Armed Boxer decides it would be a hoot if he brought his students along to watch. Hey, it’ll be educational. What could possibly go wrong?

The One Armed Boxer and the blind assassin’s shenanigans are just the tip of the iceberg. We’re talking Jimmy Wang Yu, who was infamous for cramming as many weird weapons and fighting styles as he could into his films. Entering the tournament is a cocky Thai kickboxer who dances a merry jig before each fight, an Indian yogi who can stretch out his arms ten feet (yes, this is precisely where they came up with Streetfighter’s Dhalsim), a Japanese tonfa fighter who calls himself Win Without a Knife (a moniker that turns out to be complete bullshit, much to the chagrin of his stabbing victims), and a host of other cannon fodder fighters demonstrating Dragon, Monkey, Eagle Claw, Snake, Mantis, and Lord only knows what else.

Since he’s visually impaired, the blind assassin decides the best route to fulfill his mission is to kill every one-armed person he runs into. After he decapitates one poor slob who claimed to be the One Armed Boxer, a bystander cries out, “That wasn’t the One Armed Boxer! He was just a bum!” The blind assassin then utters what is perhaps the coldest line in cinematic history: “I don’t care who he was.” Yikes.

Master of the Flying Guillotine features wall-to-wall fistfights, with each fight progressively more ridiculous than the last. The kung fu tournament redefines the word “brutal,” and the way the One Armed Boxer deals with the kickboxer will have you grabbing at your feet and screaming. You can well imagine how our hero deals with the Indian Stretch Armstrong; let’s just say it involves a roof support beam. The last inevitable showdown between the Boxer and the Assassin is spectacular, and takes place in two stages, culminating in a coffin shop, naturally.

If the superbly choreographed boxing, tripped-out story, and head loppings weren’t enough, Master of the Flying Guillotine features the nuttiest movie soundtrack ever to grace a Shaw Brothers production. According to Wikipedia, the soundtrack to the original theatrical release included “Super” and “Super 16″ by Neu!, portions from Tangerine Dream’s album Rubycon, and pieces of “Mitternacht” and “Morgenspaziergang” from Kraftwerk’s Autobahn. Holy moly. It bears mentioning that this film was made in 1975; whoever the hell scored this film was in touch with some seriously underground music. Incredibly, this techno/proto-punk music fits in perfectly with this kung fu period piece, especially the piece selected for the blind assassin’s “theme music.” Due to copyright infringements, the latest DVDs now feature a newly composed original score, but I still prefer the ripped-off music.

What more can be said of Master of the Flying Guillotine? Like Joseph Sylvers says, see it with someone you love.