Troubled teen Cassandra (pretty Barbara Meeks) has her life turned topsy turvy after she hooks up with a group of delinquent bikers and starts smoking weed, which eventually leads to poor Cassandra degenerating into a destitute strung-out smack addict. Boy, does this gloriously ghastly celluloid bilge possess all the right wrong stuff to qualify as a special kind of unintentionally sidesplitting stinker: Ham-fisted (mis)direction by Bamlet Lawrence Price Jr. (who also wrote the histrionic script), incessant, long-winded, and redundant sub-"Dragnet" style narration from a cynical police detective, uproariously dubious "facts" (bet you didn't know that toking on reefers is a road to absolute ruin that ultimately begets addiction to much harder and more dangerous narcotics like heroin!), overwrought acting, seedy black and white cinematography, and a ridiculously clean-cut bunch of bikers who resemble a preppyish high school honor society. Single most funny moment: Cassandra writhing about on her front lawn while tripping on goofballs. Only a few authentically grubby Los Angeles locations add a faint touch of gritty realism to this otherwise laughably absurd tripe. Only an hour long, this honey zips by at a brisk pace and doesn't outstay its welcome. An absolute kitschy hoot.
Review of One Way Ticket to Hell
