I'm a fan of Psycho a Go-Go, and Al Adamson in general, though his films can be hit or miss at best. Psycho a Go-Go is about middleground for him, not as dreadfully incoherent as Blood of Dracula's Castle, not as existential and apocalyptic as Satan's Sadists. Yet "Psycho" can at times reach the weirdness of a David Lynch movie (Blue Velvet comes to mind), and at other times the "coolness" level of Tarantino's overrated Pulp Fiction. Here we have thin-tied gangsters in black zoot suits, dames in beehive hair with lounge voices, the catchy but surreal siren call of go-go song and dance, a chipmunk-voiced black doll, and a killer who is a cross between a young Jack Nicholson and Michael Ironside, with an ugly butch haircut and an uglier mind. The scene where he sadistically strangles a girl, intercut with the blinking neon blue lights of a seedy motel sign, is unquestionably a work of art, or at least of high imitation.
A decent genre flick without the pretensions of its later imitators, and a portal into the weird dark world of Los Angeles.
A decent genre flick without the pretensions of its later imitators, and a portal into the weird dark world of Los Angeles.