Becca grew up in Vegas and when I went there to meet her parents, she made it a point to take me to Fremont Street and old Vegas and the places where the ad budget doesn't extend, the places I'd really want to see, the places that were new and gleaming when Ray Dennis Steckler made this movie in some year that IMDB tells me is 1986 but I'd buy 1973, 1978 or 1984 just as well. Somehow part of the same Steckler Cinematic Universe as The Thrill Killers - a movie that Steckler took on the road and would send three maniacs in masks during the movie to attack the audience - and The Hollywood Strangler Meets the Skid Row Slasher, this time serial killer Johnathan Glick gets out of jail on a technicality and does what you'd expect: he kills lots of people. This movie is also about two purse snatchers and instead of watching them at work, we follow them to a parade, a rodeo - where someone shouts the name of Steckler's other self Cash Flagg for no reason - and World War II bomber graveyard. Home movies nearly, only rivaled by endless moments of people walking through Vegas, real people, captured on film in a permit-less time capsule by the man who made Sex Rink and The Lemon Grove Kids Meet the Monsters, but done even better - or worse - because the characters ridicule their appearance and discuss the bodies of the women they see. Somehow, the story comes back and the killer gets a job at a place called Pizza-n-Pizza and the signs outside advertise that they have a chicken sandwich, so that entire place is a liar. They also employ a serial killer who uses their service to kill any woman who orders their pizza, like the Grim Reaper by way of Randy Bodek. You know, I've never seen a movie where a man strangles a woman while a stuff Papa Smurf stares on, unmoving, unfeeling. That's the kind of madness that someone like Claudio Fragrasso looks at and cries and says, "Art."

This had the makings of a half-decent film, or it would have if it had had a half-decent script, or any script at all. A serial killer is parolled after a mere six years because although he has been convicted of one murder, the shrinks don't believe his confessions to the others. You know what's gonna happen now: he heads straight to Las Vegas, and the body count mounts. Two other criminals are headed to Las Vegas as well, but they are small potatoes, mugging women and occasionally men, then driving off with their victims' cash and cards. The paths of the killer and the professional criminals cross; he strangles a woman they have left locked in the trunk of a car, so now they come under suspicion. Later, their paths cross again. What more do you need to know? Did this lowlife really utter "Die garbage" every time he strangled an innocent woman? The soundtrack and the ending save this ultra-low budget effort from being a total turkey, but it really is sad more effort wasn't put into it.

In the pantheon of bad filmmakers, there are a handful of names that rise (or fall?) above the rest. Ed Wood. H.G. Lewis. Al Adamson. And another such name is Ray Dennis Steckler, the man behind such enduring classics as The Incredibly Strange Creatures That Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies, Rat Pfink a Boo-Boo, and The Lemon Grove Kids Meet the Monsters. After that string of wretched but harmless trash was released in the 1960's, Steckler's films started taking on a darker tone, perhaps reflecting the changing mood and tastes of the times. Eventually he devolved into directing hardcore * films, although he would still occasionally release slightly less tawdry fare. Las Vegas Serial Killer is one such production, although its quality is even more substandard. A late middle-aged photographer wanders around Las Vegas, strangling random dancers, prostitutes and models as he crosses paths with them. Meanwhile, a pair of guys in matching black T-shirts and sunglasses also wander around Las Vegas, occasionally robbing tourists and business owners at gunpoint. A voice-over radio announcer keeps the viewer up to date with the manhunt for the killer and the robbers. Most of this 76 minute wonder is comprised of stock footage of the Las Vegas strip, a rodeo, traffic, and bad showgirl dancers. A lot of it looks at least ten years older than the film's release date. For only the most self-loathing film addicts. Steckler writes and directs under the pseudonym "Wolfgang Schmidt."

Unhinged wacko Johnathan Glick (the genuinely creepy Pierre Agustino) gets released from prison on a technicality. Glick arrives in Las Vegas three days later. Naturally, Glick embarks on yet another killing spree. Boy, does this hilariously horrendous honey possess all the right wrong stuff to qualify as a real four star stinkeroonie: Slack (mis)direction by the almighty Ray Dennis Steckler, a meandering narrative that unfolds at a sluggish pace, dreadful post-sync sound, ineptly staged murder set pieces, an unrelated subplot about two sleazeballs who go on a merry crime binge, rough'n'grainy cinematography, loads of lurid travelogue footage of Vegas in all its tacky neon Day-Glow glory, and a hysterically random'n'abrupt "what the hell?!" ending. The delectable Toni Alessandrini appears as herself and performs a sizzling striptease. Moreover, the pretty Kathryn Downey spends what seems like an agonizing eternity shaking her groove thing on stage and there's a satisfying smattering of bare distaff skin sprinkled throughout. A real schlocky riot.

I have to say that I loved Ray Dennis Steckler's "Hollywood Strangler Meets the Skid Row Slasher," and was pretty excited to get my hands on this so-called sequel. Unfortunately, even with about four decades of poverty-row filmmaking under his belt, 'ol Ray hasn't gotten any better at wielding a fine-tuned script. "Las Vegas Serial Killer" marks the return of Jonathan Glick (played once again by Pierre Agostino), as some ridiculous circumstances release him from prison (funny, I thought he looked pretty dead at the end of "Hollywood Strangler"), only for him to wreak havoc on the homely females of Las Vegas (the 'dancers' in this flick are pretty frightening and out-of shape). Meanwhile, two dumb biker types are zipping around Vegas in their red car, commenting on women's legs in between bouts of purse-snatching & robbery; throughout this exercise in futility, I was hoping Glick and the bikers would somehow tie into each other, and they do, in one of the most preposterous endings I've ever seen. This standard-issue Steckler experience seems to have been shot, with a plot (if it can be called that) inserted in post-production, where a radio commentator tries to string a nonsensical chain of events together (in one lame scene, the music on the radio continues to play even as the narrator interrupts with a 'news flash'); characters don't speak unless their backs are to the camera or they're off-screen altogether (this gets very irritating very quickly), not that anything they say is relevant. Despite the stupid plot and ridiculous ending, there are some positive aspects to this low-budget mess: Steckler's Zapruder-esque cinematography is still raw and fascinating to watch (though the movie often threatens to turn into a LV travelogue), with a penchant for tourist attractions and parades; Agostino has a definite presence as the Glick, and to see him working in a pizza parlor is a laugh riot (though is it conceivable that every woman he meets would want to 'do' him?). But a major component of this film's failure is a lack of Carolyn Brandt, who played the "Skid Row Slasher" of the original and had a charisma and sex appeal that none of the characters in this film can even approach. As a fan of "Hollywood Strangler," this movie is a huge disappointment, and for non-fans, it's bound to be much worse. 4/10

For starters, you just can't film your actors and then dub all the dialogue during post-production. It looks and sounds absolutely ridiculous. Luckily, or unluckily, it doesn't affect the quality of this film. Mr. Steckler has treated us to an utterly pointless and boring hunk of junk here. It all starts out with a very flimsy premise. A serial killer of seven women has just been released on parole after serving only six years. Ugh...those darn liberals!! It comes as little surprise when several women soon turn up being strangled to death. Our serial killer becomes the main suspect. Talk about hard-nosed detective work. The viewer is treated to unbearably long scenes of a couple of guys standing around on a Vegas street corner making lewd comments about women walking by while occasionally photographing them. Who are these guys? We have to wait until late in the film to fully realize their (un)importance. There is also a scene showing a parade go by. That would be fine if, let's say, there is an assassin on one of the floats and he is plotting to kill the President or something. Alas...no. Not here. It exists only to pad the running time. Thanks Mr. Steckler! You get to see multiple topless women and a couple of brain-numbingly long scenes of women dancing seductively in some dive bar. Notice a pattern? Such as way too many scenes of absolutely nothing that go on way too long? That doesn't make a fun movie. 1/10

You know for Ray Dennis Steckler to do a sequel, it has to be special. And special this film is. Picking up 7 years after THE Hollywood STRANGLER MEETS THE SKID ROW SLASHER (1979), THE LAS VEGAS SERIAL KILLER is one of the most inept yet alluring films I have ever seen. Here is the set up: Pierre Agostino gets out of prison on a technicality ("We never found the bodies so he must have been lying.") and walks around Las Vegas for 90 minutes. Occasionally he stops to ogle a woman dancing before strangling random women while "Die! Garbage! Die!" is dubbed onto the soundtrack. Interspersed between the killings are the exploits of two small time hoods who randomly rob people. They seem to always show up where Agostino is whether it be a bar or a pizza parlor adorned with Steckler movie posters (yeah right!). That is all that happens in the film until the two robbers run into our titular killer again and shoot him. Fin. It really amazes me how Steckler got progressively worse as his career went on. I mean something like THE CHOOPER at least has sync sound. Here he took a page out of Charles Nizet's directing and shot most of the scenes without sound. Only one scene appears to have been shot with sound on location. Everything else has dialogue looped in later over reaction shots from characters. In essence it is a silent film with a dialogue score as you never see lips matching dialogue. This produces a few funny bits like when they dub the voice of a lady passing out casino flyers and a random person responds, "Ah, get outta my face!" Agostino, a Nizet veteran, looks damn rough reprising his role as the killer. When you get a close up of those eyes, you can feel the pain. If anything, this film serves as an amazing time capsule of mid-80s Las Vegas. You want to see sleazy? This is it. Nothing makes my skin crawl more than the backyard party for Cash Flagg that Agostino crashes. A bevy of young girls surround by the creepiest old men you will ever see. Did I mention the men were in speedos? Steckler didn't shoot with sound because he probably didn't want the audience to hear the number of "I'll make ya famous" lines being dropped in succession. The film also captures the 80s Las Vegas strip with all the glory of the short shorts and unisex feathered hairdos. Take that Martin Scorsese and your CASINO!

I only got about 10 minutes into the films before turning it off. It looks like it was filmed with a super 8 camera. All of the dialogue is over dubbed. Lots of B roll for the non acting scenes. It maybe the worst thing I have ever watched. If you like * style acting from actors who may or may not be aware of that the cameras are even rolling; then movie is stellar. I'm sitting in my chair right now wishing I had one of those flash pens they used in men in black so that I zap myself and forget I ever saw this load of crap. If I could I would rate it lower.

Las Vegas Serial Killer (1986) ** (out of 4) I'm not sure anyone was asking for a sequel to THE Hollywood STRANGLER MEETS THE SKID ROW SLASHER but director Ray Dennis Steckler gave us one anyone. In the film, the "Hollywood Strangler" Johnathan Klick (Pierre Agostino) gets released from prison on a technicality and it doesn't take long for him to start strangling more women. Look, this is a very low-budget movie and it's going to appeal to very few people. It's mainly going to appeal to fans of Steckler who enjoy his style of films. He always went against the grain and delivered a type of film that wasn't normal or at least wasn't like everything else out there. By the time LAS VEGAS SERIAL KILLER was released, the slasher genre was in full bloom so bloody violence was a norm but you really don't get that here. The killings are all pretty simple, not graphic and the film just doesn't seem like something from 1986. I'm not saying this as a negative thing because this setting and look just makes the film stand apart. Like the first film, a lot of the film was shot silent and narration was used to tell the story and move it along. This sequel really isn't as graphic or naughty as the first one so I'm sure many are going to see it as a watered-down version, which would be understandable but I must admit that it kept my interest throughout. Yes, we could name countless flaws with the picture but thankfully it's just 75-minutes and it goes by extremely quick without any major boring sequences. The subplot with the two thieves makes for a nice twist at the end as well.

Becca grew up in Vegas and when I went there to meet her parents, she made it a point to take me to Fremont Street and old Vegas and the places where the ad budget doesn't extend, the places I'd really want to see, the places that were new and gleaming when Ray Dennis Steckler made this movie in some year that IMDB tells me is 1986 but I'd buy 1973, 1978 or 1984 just as well. Somehow part of the same Steckler Cinematic Universe as The Thrill Killers - a movie that Steckler took on the road and would send three maniacs in masks during the movie to attack the audience - and The Hollywood Strangler Meets the Skid Row Slasher, this time serial killer Johnathan Glick gets out of jail on a technicality and does what you'd expect: he kills lots of people. This movie is also about two purse snatchers and instead of watching them at work, we follow them to a parade, a rodeo - where someone shouts the name of Steckler's other self Cash Flagg for no reason - and World War II bomber graveyard. Home movies nearly, only rivaled by endless moments of people walking through Vegas, real people, captured on film in a permit-less time capsule by the man who made Sex Rink and The Lemon Grove Kids Meet the Monsters, but done even better - or worse - because the characters ridicule their appearance and discuss the bodies of the women they see. Somehow, the story comes back and the killer gets a job at a place called Pizza-n-Pizza and the signs outside advertise that they have a chicken sandwich, so that entire place is a liar. They also employ a serial killer who uses their service to kill any woman who orders their pizza, like the Grim Reaper by way of Randy Bodek. You know, I've never seen a movie where a man strangles a woman while a stuff Papa Smurf stares on, unmoving, unfeeling. That's the kind of madness that someone like Claudio Fragrasso looks at and cries and says, "Art."