To judge anything out of Hollywood on a par with some of the incredible live performances of today's megastars is "apples n' oranges." That's why everyone still refers to it as "The Factory." Particularly now with most everything is loaded with computerized graphics - to satisfy my preteen grandchildren's Xbox fantasyworld. Back when Hollywood could crank out these pieces of trash allowing us to roll around on the living room floor laughing until we ache all over even now is the epitome of why "The Factory" churned out this stuff. Seeing very gay Raymond "Ironside" Burr sashay around in my grannies old drapes (AND THAT HILARIOUS TURBAN) is right up there with the old Mummy, Dracula, Werewolf and Frankenstein films. My dinner guests absolutely chortle with glee when I pull out one of these chestnuts, and then there's all those perfectly tacky buccaneer movies with John Payne, Steve Reeves and Maureen O'Hara.
Review of The Magic Carpet
