Cult filmmaker Nico Mastorakis is an unabashed exponent of exploitation cinema, never having met a B-movie trend or subgenre he couldn’t assimilate into his own distinctive sensibility. Nightmare at Noon (a.k.a. Death Street USA) unspools like a gonzo mash-up of a late-1980s Cannon actioner and George Romero’s The Crazies, at least until its final act, when the film morphs into an unlikely neo-western. The barebones plot is mostly just a pretext for a series of insanely escalating set pieces. This is the kind of film where the stunt department are the stars of the show almost as much as the actual cast.
The film opens with a mysterious government sector called the Agency for the Protection of the Environment (that’s right: A.P.E.) descending on the sleepy town of Canyonlands, Utah. They’re led by a character identified in the credits as the Albino (Brion James), who utters not a word for the entire film. Their agenda involves contaminating the local water supply with a phosphorescent green substance not unlike the vivifying serum in Stuart Gordon’s Re-Animator. Before long, they’ve utilized some seriously high-tech gadgetry to cut the town off from the rest of the world. Their actions appear to constitute a dry run for some larger, presumably more nefarious scheme, but whatever that might be remains somewhat vague.
Just before the lockdown, an ever-bickering couple, Ken (Wings Hauser) and Cheri Griffiths (Kimberly Beck), pull into town in their streamlined RV, along with an enigmatic hitchhiker they’ve picked up who answers to Reilly (Bo Hopkins). Early on, Nightmare at Noon suggests a certain sexual tension between Cheri and Reilly, only to abandon it in favor of a weapons-based bromance between Reilly and Ken. It also doesn’t help that Cheri soon falls prey to the toxin in the glass of water she orders from the local greasy spoon. (As a bonding gesture, Ken and Reilly share a manly slug of whisky from a flask instead.) Turns out the poisoned water drives people berserk, gives them increased strength and resilience, and, when wounded or killed, makes them bleed the same green gunk that A.P.E. dumped into the reservoir.
The subsequent outbreak of homicidal rage and mass destruction brings in Sheriff Hanks (George Kennedy) and his deputy daughter, Julia (Kimberly Ross), who eventually becomes an alternate love interest for Reilly. Because, in the midst of all this chaos, it’s obviously important to Mastorakis and co-screenwriter Kirk Ellis that our male lead find his match in a plucky little lady with a similar penchant for firearms. Over the course of its first two acts, Nightmare at Noon hews closely to the Romero template, with this ragtag bunch bravely battling the onslaught of the infected, even as its numbers dwindle through injury or infection.
But the finale proves that Mastorakis has an entirely different agenda in mind. An offhand quip from Ken early in the Nightmare at Noon (“This ain’t High Noon”) paves the way for the film’s rather abrupt pivot to western mode and eventual climax: a horse chase through Arches National Park, the same monumental rock formation-strewn landscape where John Ford shot Fort Apache. This modulation in genre is also ironically signaled by the dilapidated marquee at the abandoned drive-in where our motley crew bring the fight home to the Albino and his machine gun-bearing cronies, which still advertises none other than High Noon. Lest the shootout between Reilly and the Albino strikes viewers as too old-timey, Mastorakis throws in a helicopter dogfight that likely draws its inspiration from John Badham’s Blue Thunder.
Nightmare at Noon leaves some major questions tantalizingly unresolved. What exactly are A.P.E. up to? How is it that Cheri turns up at the end apparently cured? Does Reilly even have a first name? Then again, if you’re in this for that old Mastorakis mayhem, you probably won’t waste a lot of time hurting your head over these pesky details. Instead, console yourself with the film’s many pleasures. It’s agreeably shot through with a wry vein of humor, and the actors are fully committed to the project. The stunts, too, are impressive in their variety and intensity. And Mastorakis definitely unleashes all-out havoc on the unsuspecting citizens of Canyonlands. To quote the always eloquent hosts of SCTV’s “Farm Film Report”: “Things blow up real good.”
Image/Sound
Arrow presents Nightmare at Noon in a 2K restoration, sourced from a 35mm interpositive, that looks excellent, especially the outdoors scenes in the Utah desert. Colors are vivid, flesh tones lifelike, black levels deep and uncrushed, and grain mostly well-managed, save for a few low-lit shots where it gets a little thick. Audio comes in both Master Audio 5.1 surround and LPCM 2.0 stereo. Not surprisingly, the surround mix really opens up the film’s soundscape, from frequent gunshots, explosions, and car crashes, to cleanly delivered dialogue, and the burbling score from Stanley Myers and an up-and-coming Hans Zimmer.
Extras
There are a fair amount of extras here, but they’re mostly of the archival variety. An installment of The Films of Nico Mastorakis—the four-part documentary that appeared in its entirety on Arrow’s Island of Death Blu-ray—focuses exclusively on Nightmare at Noon. In it, Mastorakis delivers some voiceover commentary (intercut with cast interviews) that largely dwells on the film’s numerous stunts, especially the climactic helicopter battle. He also offers some interesting tidbits about Wings Hauser’s problematic behavior and a nasty motorcycle accident that nearly killed a stuntman during filming. Extensive behind-the-scenes footage (also with talking-head commentary) compares the location shooting and the finished film. Interviews with the five leads allow them to express their impressions of working with Mastorakis on the physically demanding production. Lastly, there’s a fairly extensive image gallery set to the film’s score.
Overall
Nightmare at Noon gets a sun-drenched 2K restoration and a generous supply of extras.
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