******SALIENTIAN SPOILERS!******

Sometime in the mid-to-late 1970s, I remember watching a really odd occult-biker movie on late night TV about a group of British outlaws who found immortality through a deific frog, and by simply believing they wouldn’t die after tossing themselves into deadly perils. It was only later I learned the movie was called “Psychomania” (1972), though the version I saw might’ve used one of the movie’s alternate titles (“The Death Wheelers,” “The Living Dead”). At that preteen age, I loved both frogs and motorcycles, so I sat through it. Afterward, I found myself wondering what the hell it was I’d just seen.

Directed by journeyman horror director Don Sharp (“The Face of Fu Manchu” “Kiss of the Vampire”), and written under an alias by former communist witch-hunt blacklisted screenwriter Arnaud d’Usseau (“Tomorrow-the World” “Just Off Broadway”), there is the potential for something more intriguing within the movie’s recipe, yet the soufflé falls from lack of imagination, budget, or both. What we’re left with is… well, let’s just say it’s too bad “Mystery Science Theatre 3000” and its online spinoff “Rifftrax” have yet to give “Psychomania” a test ride. It was practically made to be skewered.

“Psychomania” (aka “The Death Wheelers,” “The Living Dead”)

Note: The Living Dead are one of the best-dressed biker gangs I’ve seen in my life, and I say this as a former motorcyclist. All-matching leathers, turtlenecks, matching helmets, etc. They look more like they’re shooting a 1980s music video than a group of outlaw bikers, but sure movie–strut your stuff. The Living Dead was, as seen above, one of the movie’s alternate release titles, though it might’ve run into later legal trouble from the late George Romero, or the folks at Latent Image.

Note: One of the few positives for the film are the gorgeous Surrey roadside locations used for some of riding sequences. They remind me of (but are not) the leaf-strewn roads we see the Batmobile roaring through at night in 1989’s “Batman.”

Note: A bit jarring to see Oscar-winner George Sanders (“All About Eve”) in this occult-biker mishmash, let alone worshipping a frog deity with costar Beryl Reid, who’d also appeared in better movies (“The Killing of Sister George”). Sadly, Sanders (1906-1972) would sadly pass away the same year as this movie’s release at age 66.

Note: While frogs have a place in paganism as symbols of water, fertility and metamorphosis, it’s never coherently explained how or why the movie’s frog-god helps to give Tom immortality. 1973’s far superior “The Wicker Man” better explored the reasons behind the Summerisle pagans’ symbolism. Here, it’s just part of a psychedelic montage for undercooked storytelling.

Note: Seen earlier in the opening credits, the Living Dead’s favorite hangout is a fictional Stonehenge knockoff known as “The Seven Witches,” which has some nonspecific connection to Mrs. Latham’s frog-god worship. The field’s ‘mysterious’ pagan statuary look like stone-gray painted props stuck at random in an open field. The location itself was in Littleton, Surrey, England, though perhaps a more remote location (without so many cars and trucks visible) might’ve added more atmosphere.

Note: Despite the relaxed attitudes towards sexual harassment seen in movies of the 1970s, grabbing any woman without consent (let alone while she’s strolling her baby) is deeply messed up, even if the woman in the scene is just an extra in a movie pushing an obvious plastic doll. I still cringe when I remember all the teen sex comedies of the 1980s, which were too often predicated on female sexual humiliation.

Note: To any readers struggling with thoughts of self-harm or suicide? Please call/text 988 right now. Despite this silly B-movie’s false romanticism, such thoughts should never be taken lightly.

Note: The song “Riding Free”, written and sung by Harvey Andrews, has a gentle, almost John Denver/Harry Nilsson-quality to it, though its lyrics are more fitting for a slain civil rights martyr than a shallow, selfish hedonist like Tom. Nevertheless, Harvey Andrews’ “Riding Free” is a highlight of this film.

Note: When I first saw the film as a kid, I had endless questions about Tom’s burial and resurrection. Did his friends really want to keep his corpse propped upright on his motorcycle with his head sticking above ground like that? How did they get a permit to half-bury a corpse on public property? Did Tom’s bike still have fuel in it when he was ‘buried’? Did his dead body stink? How did he stay so rigid? How did the motorcycle propel itself out of Tom’s grave without traction or a ramp? Fortunately, I’m at an age now where I tell myself it’s only a movie, and that if the screenwriter and director didn’t give a damn, why should I?

Note: Despite Zom-Tom’s appetite for sexual assault and murder, actor Nicky Henson gives a surprisingly charming antihero performance, and wisely chooses not to take any of it too seriously. Henson would have parts in other movies (“Witchfinder General” “The Bawdy Adventures of Tom Jones”) but this would remain his best-known role.

Note: Once again, some decent stunt work is marred somewhat by unimaginative camera work. The early 1970s was a time of great, pre-digital motorized mayhem, such as “Little Fauss and Big Halsey” (1970), “Two-Lane Blacktop” (1971), Steven Spielberg’s “Duel” (1971), “Electra Glide in Blue” (1973), “Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry” (1974), “Gone in 60 Seconds” (the original 1974 version) and others. Sadly, this movie is nowhere near those films in scope or excitement. The bike crashes here look more like something staged for an old school driver’s ed safety film. Having experienced my own near-fatal motorcycle collision 32 years ago, the real thing is a lot less pristine than what’s seen in this film. For starters, responding paramedics would’ve likely cut Jane right out of her nifty red jacket.

Note: The ironically vivacious ‘undead’ biker Jane, played by Ann Michelle, is a much better fit for Tom than his own wet blanket girlfriend, Abby. Ann Michelle also appeared in 1972’s “The Virgin Witch” (with her sister, Vicki), and in 1974’s “House of Whipcord.” Like Nicky Henson, she’s the only other actor in the film who seems to be having actual fun.

Note: The jailbreak sequence is right out of an old western, with the local police offering up less-than-token resistance to the undead biker/rescuers Tom and Jane (whose names when spoken/written together sound like the title of an outdated children’s book).

Note: No offense to actor Denis Gilmore, who plays redhead biker Hatchet, but his ‘death’ scene looks as badly staged as someone laying down under an idling taxi to collect insurance. Unlike others in this movie, writer/actor Gilmore continued to enjoy a long career before and after this film, including a role as one of the ‘books’ seen at the end of the 1966 film adaptation of Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451” (he played the walking/talking book of Bradbury’s “The Martian Chronicles”). Gilmore also costarred in the 1981 miniseries production of “Day of the Triffids.” Gilmore is still around and working at the time of this column.

Note: You’d think being granted immortality and superior strength might set one’s ambitions high, but in this movie, Tom’s zombie-bikers only seem interested in pulling the same pointless vandalism they did before they died and came back. In that way, “Psychomania” vaguely reminds me of Bert I. Gordon’s “Village of the Giants” (1965), where a gang of twenty-something “teenagers” suddenly sprout to massive proportions after stealing a growth paste, yet their only ambition after seizing power in a small town seems to be lying around, eating fried chicken and listening to loud music. (*sigh*) These kids today (or yesterday?)…

Note: I wonder if this is how Mrs. Latham’s husband mysteriously ‘vanished’…?

Note: It’s suggested in this terribly vague movie that Mrs. Latham’s manservant (and coconspirator in the dark arts) Shadwell is the real power behind the magic, as he turns Mrs. Latham into a frog (or did he make her a frog-god?). We later see what appears to be Shadwell’s car (and the George Sanders’ obvious double) arriving at the Seven Witches field, just as the end credits roll…

Note: Once again, I don’t mean to play relationship counselor to a gang of undead hell-raisers, but I really think Tom and Jane could’ve carried on just fine as a couple…

Note: The final transformation of the Living Dead into stone statues is the best-crafted effects sequence of the film. It was created using a near-flawless dissolve between the actors and piles of rock that are surprisingly seamless. Kudos to special effects artist Pat Moore (1969’s”The Italian Job”), visual effects artist Doug Ferris (“Superman: The Movie,” “Superman II”) and cinematographer Ted Moore (“Dr. No,” “From Russia with Love”). Moore’s cinematography wasn’t so great at capturing the motorcycle stunt work (at least when compared to some of his American contemporaries), but he certainly rose to the occasion for this final scene. The only flaw with the sequence is that when it’s ended, the biker statues left behind in the Seven Witches field resemble a pile of dinosaur poop and a piece of hotel-lobby abstract art.

Note: If you’ve survived watching this film, you might want to check out director Lindsey Anderson’s far superior “If…” (1968) or Stanley Kubrick’s “A Clockwork Orange” (1971); both of which star the inimitable Malcolm McDowell, and deal far more provocatively with British youth rebellion than this counterfeit Stonehenge-sorcery silliness.

The End.

Summing It Up

The 1970s were littered with made-for-drive-in occult movies trying to cash in on the mojo of “Rosemary’s Baby” and “The Exorcist” (“Race with the Devil,” “The Devil’s Rain,” etc), as well as the motorcycle-as-freedom vibe of “Easy Rider” and its many copycats. The mashup of these once-popular genres in “Psychomania” feels calculated to put young butts in movie seats. However, the result is an odd duck of a movie that lacks the coherency or frankly, the quality to get the job done. Some of the motorcycle stunt-work is decent, though not exceptional. It’s photographed as if shot for a 1970s BBC special on juvenile delinquency, not a movie. More imaginative camera work would’ve helped tremendously. One can only imagine what a late 1980s-era Sam Raimi (“The Evil Dead”/”Spider-Man” trilogies) might’ve done with a story of undead bikers…

On the plus side, Nicky Henson (“Tom”) and Ann Michelle (“Jane”) throw their backs into the dark comedy of it all, but fail in hoisting this movie from the grave of B-movie schlock. Similarly, Mary Larkin gives a sincere performance as good girl biker Abby, but she too, can’t overcome the silly frog-worshipping shenanigans and fossil-fecal statuary of the movie’s bargain basement Stonehenge, which wouldn’t pass muster at a Spinal Tap concert. Onetime Oscar-winning actor George Sanders (“The Ghost and Mrs. Muir,” “All About Eve”) does what he can as the sinister Shadwell, who acts as both manservant and satanic conjurer for Tom’s wealthy, widowed mum (Beryl Reid). The presence of George Sanders serves as a grim reminder to all Oscar winners that past accolades are no insurance against future schlock.

Trapped in a weird purgatory between occult thriller and free-wheeling biker flick, “Psychomania” doesn’t really do service to either of its shotgun-wed genres. Worth seeking out primarily for laughs (at, not with), and perhaps as a creaky time capsule of 1970s British youth rebellion/exploitation flicks. With a bit more vigor and ambition behind the scenes, this movie could’ve amounted to something more eerie or even satirical. However, at the end of its 90-odd runtime, the movie simply lacks reach.

Or perhaps “Psychomania” failed because the filmmakers didn’t will it to live enough?

Where to Watch

“Psychomania” is currently available to stream on Tubi and PlutoTV streaming services. The movie has also been released on a handsomely remastered Blu-Ray from Arrow Video, and on a less-than-ideal looking DVD from Geneon.