Some intrepid soul could
write an entire treatise on film distribution by analyzing the way this drab
thriller was sold to the public. Not only has the picture been issued under
several titles—Maniac!, The Ransom, The Town That Cried Terror—but the most prevalent poster art,
extrapolated from the opening scene, suggests a serial-killer saga echoing Son
of Sam, Zodiac, and other human monsters who prowled the streets of America’s
cities during the ’70s. In truth, Assault on Paradise is quite different. The story concerns a
deranged Native American who terrorizes the wealthiest residents of a resort
community in Arizona, demanding payment as punishment for, presumably, the
residents’ mistreatment of tribal land. Although the story includes a number of
murders, only one fits the urban-psycho paradigm, because most of the killings
involve a bow and arrow. What’s more, Assault
on Paradise isn’t some grim character study of a sociopath. The protagonist
is a tough-talking mercenary hired by the wealthy residents to kill the
sociopath. Accordingly, most of the picture involves a chase across desert
lands, with helicopters and Jeeps and motorcycles. Hardly what people were
promised by sensationalistic advertising.
The setting is Paradise, a small town
where rich guys including William Whitaker (Stuart Whitman) lord over municipal employees. After an Indian named Victor (Paul Koslo)
kills several people, he issues a demand for $1
million and threatens more carnage if he is not
paid. Whitaker hires Nick McCormick (Oliver Reed) to find and terminate Victor. Nick then recruits a local tracker (Jim Mitchum) to guide him through rough
terrain. The story also involves a TV reporter, Cindy (Deborah Raffin), who
becomes romantically involved with Nick.
Thanks to a genuinely terrible
screenplay, long stretches of the movie are deadly boring, and virtually none
of the onscreen behavior makes sense. Nick is supposed to be the height of
cold-blooded efficiency, but he spends a lot of time drinking, hanging out, and
screwing. The tracker is supposed to know the terrain perfectly, but he often
throws up his hands and says he doesn’t know where to look next for Victor.
And Victor is played by the
decidedly Caucasian actor Paul Koslo—who, by the way, is blond. Directed with zero story sense by Richard
Compton, who spent most of his career making second-rate television, Assault on Paradise is a slog to get
through, despite the colorful cast and violent premise. The picture gets better
in its second half, once the action gets going, and props are due to Don Ellis
for the energy of his frenetic disco/jazz/rock score, but the number of scenes
that simply don’t work is startling. Which begins to explain, perhaps, why
desperate methods were employed to hype the picture.
Assault on Paradise: FUNKY
