Roger Corman refused to finish reading an article in The New York Times after the columnist described him as a producer of B movies – not “exploitation” films, as he preferred (Miller 34). Corman began his career in the 1950s with creature features like Attack of the Crab Monsters, adapting through the decades to sell audiences more pop culture, more skin, more scares, and more gore than the mainstream, all on a shoestring budget. Cynthia J. Miller summarized in her essay “Remember: Only You Can Prevent Roger Corman” that the mogul is indeed an exploiter, even beyond the titillating on-screen content; he exploits “hot topics of the day, the distributors like American Releasing Corporation that bargained them into theaters, the cast and crew who worked on them, [and] the gullibility of motion picture audiences and their wallets” (35). Over 400 films bear Corman’s name, but Deathstalker separates itself as a recurring force in the world of exploitation. Its making, reception, and legacy accomplish more than a flippant profit. The film perennially serves as a target for other exploiters and advocates of social justice.
The seed for Deathstalker was planted, like so many other B films, in the shadow of a bigger Hollywood picture. Universal Studios released Conan the Barbarian in May of 1982 and earned over $9 million in its opening weekend (IMDb). Corman’s film production company took the next logical step: a brawny sword-and-sorcery film that would ride on the coattails of the Arnold Schwarzenegger epic. It was completed after 37 days of shooting - a relatively long production schedule for a Corman film (Sbardellati). Thus, Deathstalker sped into theaters for a 1983 release. Its plot mirrored Conan the Barbarian’s dark age quest, as well as the presence of muscular male bodies, a foreign power to conquer, and violence against women. Deathstalker propagated these risqué elements exponentially in accordance with B movie tradition.
Conan the Barbarian’s story was analyzed by Robert Rushing in his essay “Descended from Hercules: Male Anxiety in the Peplum” as playing into the fear of the modern man: he must battle for survival in a world where the glory of masculinity has been lost, and he teeters on the brink of extinction (53). Building on this anxiety is the disintegration of privilege in an increasingly diverse Western world. Since the muscle-bound Hercules films of the 1950s and 60s, “Orientalized” enemies have been a trope central to this marketing toward white male audiences (Rushing 54). Conan The Barbarian cast African-American James Earl Jones as an exotic conqueror, and Corman’s rip-off followed suit with a tattooed wizard in ornate robes. In this way, the sword-and-sorcery genre exploits audiences, offering a fantasy that reinforces the narrative of the victimized white male. One could argue that Conan the Barbarian was responsible for the intellectual content, with Corman’s production only functioning as a copy. Regardless of Deathstalker’s culpability in reinforcing this worldview, racist narratives were present behind the camera. The South American production was exploitative on a tangible and calculated level.
Overseas production of American movies is a common practice. However, with budget as a central focus, B movies including Deathstalker take advantage of struggling nations at the cost of the native population. In 1982, Argentina had established itself as a democracy after years of brutal dictatorship. Its people seemed to regard film as a central symbol of liberation as censorship had been discarded (Andermann 1). Deathstalker director James Sbardellati unabashedly recalled Argentina as the “distressed country of the month” when considering filming locations. Thus, Corman’s production partnered with Aries Cinematográfica Argentina. Tamara Falicov, a professor specializing in Latin American cinema, explored damaging cross-cultural interactions in her essay “U.S.-Argentine Co-productions...” Some Argentines saw the New World collaboration, including Deathstalker, as a kind of learning experience, but the movie was not made for them – it was released only to American audiences in English (Falicov 34). As an example of frugality, director Héctor Olivera said, “The salary of an extra was equivalent to three dollars and Corman took advantage of this” (29).
Furthermore, Argentine names were not to be found in the credits, again minimizing the country’s contributions. Norberto Castronuevo, sound mixer, was credited as Norman Newcastle. Miguel Amengual was named Michael Amen. Juan José Fabio became John Faber (IMDb). Deathstalker production designer Maria Julia Bertotto, alias Mary Betram, said of New World Pictures:
“Corman would send down these young arrogant men to work in special effects. They felt uncomfortable working in collaboration with the Argentine crew, despite the fact that many of us spoke English. They essentially gave orders and refused to hear our suggestions. It was as though they had preconceived notions of Argentina and thought we were ‘Indians with feathers on our heads’” (Falicov 33).
With Anglican domination established so strongly in the production, what, then, of another minority: women? In contrast, the exploitation of women seems more relegated to fantasy than the crew itself. Roger Corman’s wife, Julie, is a longtime partner in his film career, and directors like Penelope Spheeris, Amy Holden Jones, Katt Shea, and Deborah Brock credit New World Productions with their directorial debuts in an otherwise male-dominated film industry. Brock recalled, “I had to learn to deal with much more sexism and stuff after I left Roger’s [company]” (Nashawaty 193).
Per the established masculine narrative evidenced by Robert Rushing, however, Deathstalker regularly featured the on-screen dehumanization of women, from nudity to sexual violence. The author observed that sword-and-sorcery films regularly featured women as co-stars, yet a vast majority endured rape or torture while lacking the physical strength of the leading man; Deathstalker was “particularly repulsive” in this context (Rushing 53). For instance, a muscle-bound Deathstalker rescues a woman who was raped moments ago only to make sexual advances. Deathstalker’s bare-breasted love interest similarly gives no indication of consent while he pulls aside her cloak and initiates intercourse. Though Corman’s productions themselves offered more roles for this minority, women were still employed as brutalized sexual objects on-screen.
After tens of millions of dollars funneled through the box office for Deathstalker, sequels followed (IMDb). These films presented themselves as something of an exploitation of the B movie source material; Deathstalker II borrowed footage, props, and plot devices from the previous movie, completing its filing in approximately 20 days (Wynorski). The Argentine cast and crew were again exploited; a DVD director’s commentary related how the crew “scooped up” extras from the neighboring town for filming. Their compensation for an extended battle sequence was a hot lunch.
There was something of a shift regarding on-screen moral footing in Deathstalker II. The crew opposed the film’s “serious” screenplay; they opted instead to write each day’s script the night before shooting (Wynorski). Direct references were made to Looney Tunes, Rocky, Goldfinger, Scooby-Doo, and Abbott and Costello. Violence against women was scaled back considerably; Deathstalker suffered blow after blow from Queen Kong, a plus-sized wrestler, and a tribe of Amazons came to his rescue in the final battle. As such, the film presented itself as more tongue-in-cheek than its ethically reprehensible predecessor. The exploitation cycle had many more twists and turns in store for Deathstalker as well.
Mike Nelson, a comedy writer from Minnesota, sits beneath the credits of Deathstalker and the Warriors From Hell, the third installment of the series. “Hey, can we jam a lime wedge in his mouth?” he asks. Director Alfonso Corona Blake is remarkably credited without an Anglican pseudonym, but in turn parallels Corona, a popular Mexican beer. The TV series Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K) was influenced by forgotten shows like It Came from Hollywood, but its pithy, post-modern formula proved more successful in reviving B films for mainstream culture (Carter 104). While the films of Roger Corman and his ilk were screened, the hosts of MST3K, including Nelson, countered the work with scathing commentary. Drive-ins had been central to the B movie empire, but after their decline in the 1970s and 80s, Corman’s films transitioned to the direct-to-video format with little visibility (Corman’s World). Through MST3K, exploitation film was not only revived for modern audiences, but shone a light on the questionable morality of the B genre – earning laughs at the cast’s and crew’s expense. The hosts of MST3K were known to make light of “politically incorrect” subjects, such as a Mexican director’s name. However, an element of social justice was employed.
Violence against women and exaggerated racial stereotypes were regularly booed on the TV show, holding such clichés at a distance that even irreverent comedy refused to reinforce. The death of a central female character in the first twenty minutes of Deathstalker and the Warriors from Hell earns a telling comment from MST3K’s Nelson: “If I knew your name, or anything about you, this would be very sad.” Here, a female character exists to be victimized, her only contribution in the world being the male hero’s motivation for his story. This sexist trope is analyzed with a comedic twist, leading audiences to question the legitimacy of the source material. It also earns revenue for the cast and crew of MST3K.
The next generation of post-modern commentary expanded beyond conventional media. YouTube filmmakers RedLetterMedia climbed to internet fame with videos criticizing film, narrated by a fictional character who kidnaps and murders prostitutes. The YouTube channel added other episodic formats and has accumulated over 900,000 views with a “Best of the Worst” episode featuring the first Deathstalker. Like MST3K, the show films a group screening with running commentary. Unlike MST3K, RedLetterMedia engages in an unscripted panel discussion and analysis following. The conclusion of the Deathstalker episode focused on which film the group wished to destroy as a form of catharsis. Panelist Jack Packard responded, “I would like to destroy Deathstalker as I was, frankly, insulted by the vast amount of rape that was in it!” (“Plinketto #1”). This serves as a poignant example of activism, again holding violence against women to a standard of disdain that is untouchable even by the creators of a fictional serial killer.
It has been demonstrated that where exploitation treads, exploitation follows. Deathstalker rode the coattails of Conan the Barbarian, which played on the insecurity of white males. The Argentine crew was exploited in the process; women suffered reprehensible violence on-screen for profit. MST3K brought Deathstalker into modern pop culture, using comedy to exploit the productions and shed light on social justice. Other critics and entertainers have followed in MST3K’s footsteps. Beyond these many incarnations, the journey of the sword-and-sorcery B movie does not end. Twenty years after Deathstalker’s release, Roger Corman was credited as the producer of a film called Barbarian, which essentially served as a remake of the 1983 release. Barbarian, like so many others, borrowed footage, plot, and other devices from Deathstalker. The future clearly holds many possibilities for exploitation film – and the exploitation of exploitation.
Works Cited
Andermann, Jens. New Argentine Cinema. I.B. Tauris, 2012.
Carter, David Ray. “Cinemasochism: Bad Movies and the People Who Love Them.” In the Peanut Gallery with Mystery Science Theater 3000. Edited by Robert G. Weiner and Shelley E. Barba, McFarland & Company, Inc., 2001, pp. 101-108.
“Conan the Barbarian (1982) – Box office / Business.” IMDb. www.imdb.com/title/tt0082198/business. Accessed 16 November 2017.
“Deathstalker (1983) – Full Cast & Crew.” IMDb. www.imdb.com/title/tt0087127. Accessed 16 November 2017.
Falicov, Tamara L. "U.S.-Argentine co-productions, 1982-1990: Roger Corman, Aries Productions, 'Schlockbuster' movies, and the international market." Film & History, vol. 34, no. 1, 2004. Academic OneFile, go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?p=AONE&sw=w&u=lom_grandrapid&v=2.1&it=r&id=GALE%7CA164560284&asid=d5614c153f5eb54902c31310af9f75a0. Accessed 20 September 2017.
Miller, Cynthia J. “Remember: Only you can prevent Roger Corman.” In the Peanut Gallery with Mystery Science Theater 3000. Edited by Robert G. Weiner and Shelley E. Barba. McFarland & Company, Inc., 2001, pp. 29-38.
Nashawaty, Chris. Crab Monsters, Teenage Cavemen, and Candy Stripe Nurses: Roger Corman: King of the B Movie. Abrams, 2013.
Nelson, Michael, head writer. “Deathstalker and the Warriors from Hell.” Mystery Science Theater 3000, Best Brains, Inc., 1996.
Olivera, Héctor. “Opinión.” Pagina 12, 28 July 1993, p. 29.
Packard, Jack. “Best of the Worst: Plinketto #1.” YouTube, uploaded by RedLetterMedia, 25 April 2016, www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4WzW8wYr0o.
Rushing, Robert. “Descended from Hercules: Masculine Anxiety in the Peplum.” Cycles, Spin-offs, Remakes, and Reboots: Multiplicities in Film and Television. Edited by Amanda Ann Klein and Barton R. Palmer, University of Texas Press, 2016. pp. 44-56, eBook.
Sbardellati, James, director. Deathstalker. Aries Cinematografica Argentina and Palo Alto, 1983.
Stapleton, Alex, director. Corman’s World: Confessions of a Hollywood Rebel. A&E IndieFilms, 2011.
Wynorski, Jim, director. Deathstalker II: Duel of Titans. Aries International and New Horizons Pictures, 1987.
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