By Graham Rae | March 25, 2004

Cinematic excellence comes in many different forms. Tyler Durden rallying his emasculated-feeling anti-capitalist male troops with a rousing “Middle Children of History” speech in Fight Club. Lionel crashing through the front doors of his mother’s house with lawnmower in hand and zombie massacre in mind with a rousing cry of “Party’s over!” in “Braindead”. Travis Bickle ranting and railing against the “f*****s and screwheads” making the world a filthy place in “Taxi Driver”. Crap biker Stiletto throwing a hand grenade that bounces off the camera into a packed karate school with a cry of “Hello bastards! Here’s a little present for ya!” in “Mad Foxes”.

Wait a minute, wait a minute. Let’s just press ‘pause’ on this article here and rewind that last bit. “sexoFdaM”ni”!ayroftneserpelttilas’ereh!sdratsabolleH”focryahtiwloohcsetarakdeckapaotniedanergdnahasworhtottelitSrekibparC. Press ‘play’ again…Crap biker Stiletto throws a hand grenade into a packed karate school with a cry of “Hello bastards! Here’s a little present for ya!” in “Mad Foxes”. Hmmm. That’s what you thought it said, you read it right the first time. But what does it mean? What am I talking about? Why would a terrible Spanish/German exploitation biker flick even go in the same paragraph as those other excellent films? Well kiddies, that’s what I’m gonna explore here. By the time I’m finished you will have an intimate knowledge of this worthless-but-excellent piece of excrement, and will know exactly why it stands proudly in that esteemed pantheon…for all the wrong reasons. And more. Cos this is nothing less than my own personal nomination for Worst Film Ever Made. Heady, prestigious stuff eh?

You know, a lot has been written about the whole ‘trash aesthetic’ thing, the whole ‘so bad it’s good’ school of filmic thinking. But until recently, when “Mad Foxes” got a release on DVD, hardly anybody had ever bothered wasting words (or indeed precious minutes of their life) writing about this humble 1981 celluloid car crash. To my mind, nobody has ever truly fully done it (in)justice. I intend to rectify that here. Writing this piece is a pure retro nostalgia trip for me, but it simply has to be done.

I am going to give you the full deluxe “Mad Foxes” guided tour. By doing so I will prove beyond question that I have way too much time on my hands and that I am easily obsessed by useless crap for no good reason. But it also means that this article will be out of my head forever, and I can stop toying with the idea of doing it. So you see I can embarrass myself in public and exorcise myself at the same time. And that’s just too good a chance to throw away.

Now. I can remember the first time I ever saw this film. I was watching it in my bedroom at my parents’ house in Bainsford in 1988 when I was 19-years-old with my cousin Mikey. At that point I was much more into the whole underground/grindhouse cinema scene, and finding a cult (misspell it with an ‘n’ if you want) film of your own was always a joy. And the minute “Mad Foxes” finished in my video recorder (Remember those? Showing my age or what?) I distinctly remember turning to Mikey and saying, “That’s another trash cult film. Guaranteed.” And he agreed. We had both been blown away by the sheer magnitude of ineptitude on display. I hadn’t seen it for many, many years after that until a director I know in London, Alex Chandon (www.cradleoffear.com), sent me a copy a year or two ago, re-opening all the half-healed psychological wounds this film inflicted.

But back when I first saw it, I needed to spread the sickness. I showed it to all my friends, and they all loved to hate it too. I can still quote things from this film and they will respond in kind. Falkirk was (and always will be) the only Scottish town with a random “Mad Foxes” (and Dolemite, but that’s another story) cult following. Tell you another true fact. In the film there’s a barmaid called Rosie. During the last 15 years I have encountered not one, not two, but three barmaids in this town called Rosie (the odds against that hafta be pretty f*****g astronomical) and even got one sorta-inducted into the cult. But I’ll get onto that bizarre thing a wee bit later on. Let’s talk about the actual ‘film’ (and I use the word loosely) itself.

Okay. “Mad Foxes”. Directed by some zero-talent mudsucka called Paul Gray, which is a pseudonym for Paul Grau, whoever he might be. Original title “Los Violadores,” which apparently translates as “The Rapists,” (or “The Violators” – didn’t even know this until a coupla daze ago when I looked it up on the net) which is one of the least subtle and most offensive titles I’ve ever heard in my life. Then again, seeing as how the actual film itself is also one of the least subtle and most offensive I have ever seen in my life, this fits perfectly. I myself much prefer the other title the film is apparently known by, “The Bikers And The Disco Kid” cos it sounds like a Village People film, and the bikers in this effort look like they just stepped out of an alternate-universe psychotic version of the gay disco queens. Actually, quite why the damned thing is actually called “Mad Foxes” is a complete mystery, because these words are never once mentioned in the whole film.

There is a biker gang in the film, and you (charitably) assume that they might be the titular crazed furry animals, but not once are they addressed as such. Maybe the UK and US distributors just thought that a literal translation of the title wouldn’t go down too well with the general viewing public. Anything is possible; hardly worth bothering about. Much like the film itself. Having said that, prepare yourself for an article that goes into more depth about this film than any sane (or insane) (or half-sane) (or very slightly cracked) person would want to. And here…we…go!

The filth continues in part two of HELLO BASTARDS! HERE’S A LITTLE MOVIE FOR YA!>>>

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