Petey Wheatstraw Reviews

The blaxploitation genre produced its fair share of colorful oddities during its brief window of popularity, but none of those films were ever as mind-alteringly surreal as Petey Wheatstraw. This no-budget fusion of trashy comedy and cut-rate action can't be termed a success in the conventional sense. The plot changes direction every five minutes, the technical credits are threadbare, and calling the acting "amateurish" would be a polite understatement. Despite these seemingly insurmountable problems, Petey Wheatstraw remains strangely compelling because of its desire to entertain against all odds. The film throws a furiously paced barrage of every exploitation element imaginable at viewers in an attempt to keep them hooked: dime-store special effects, kung-fu, musical scenes, sex, slapstick, and the cheapest jokes imaginable (one scene is built around a group of people's reaction to a man who has accidentally lost control of his bowels). The film also makes the most of the unusual charisma of Rudy Ray Moore. Whether he is enacting questionable kung-fu moves on demons in leotards or romancing a room filled with the devil's temptresses, he overcomes his limited acting skills through a combination of macho swagger and sheer will power. In short, Petey Wheatstraw ranks right up alongside Edward D. Wood Jr.'s finest moments in the annals of compulsively watchable bad cinema.