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I just saw this stinky old boiler on TV. Best watched with a very large flagon of Dr Jurd's Jungle Juice at hand, this exploitorific cheese-fest is hilariously bad. On the (very slim) plus side, Raquel was in her physical prime, she looks good, and you get to see a fair bit of her, since she plays a go-go dancer; she had great legs, that's for sure. There's also some minor interest for screen buffs in the footage of Los Angeles ca. '69, and in spotting actors in minor parts who went on to better things. Veteran thesp Ron Rifkin ('Brothers and Sisters') delivers a toe-curling early performances as "Sailor" the "faggot junkie" barman who rats Raquel out to the bad guy. You might also recognise the gun-toting security guard in the hit-and-run scene -- it's a very early appearance by Gordon Jump, who gave such a lovely performance in 'Soap' as Piece of Chelief Tinkler.
The 'plot' of 'Flareup', such as it is, follows the travails of an exotic dancer (Welch) on the run from her murderous ex-husband (Luke Askew). This turkey is classic production-line Hollywood sludge -- a paint-by-numbers script, pedestrian direction, hokey shots, edits and effects, ultra-cheesy stock music, plywood sets, and performances to match.
The cast is as uniformly dreadful as the screenplay. Although Raquel is capable of fair performances in the right vehicle, this wheezy old clunker is SO bad that she doesn't really stand a chance, and neither does the audience. One of my favourite moments occurs when Raquel awakes up in the hospital, sees the Vegas cop who's pursuing her murderous ex, and asks "How did you get here?" -- to which he of course replies "In a plane." Oh the humanity ... And you won't be able to take your eyes off the doctor (Michael Rougas) who has what might well be one of the very worst walk-ons in the long sad history of bad cameos. I don't think I've ever seen anyone stand in one spot so badly before.
Raquel's love interest Joe (James Stacy) ambles through the film with a fixed look that's somewhere between bemused and embarrassed -- and no wonder. This bomb puts the cast through just about every made-for-TV cliché in the book, from Raquel's spectacularly dreadful turn in the dreadful nightmare montage, to the pure schlock of the 'romantic' horse ride along Leo Carillo Beach.
**Spoiler Warning** -- just about the only interesting thing in the whole film is the denouement, in which Raquel finally gets her own back, and hilariously enacts the title, by setting the baddie on fire. Whoever the stunt guy was really earned his money on this one -- he goes up like Yorba Linda in a heatwave. Yet even this fairly spectacular scene is compromised by the fact that one of the crew moves into shot near the end.
There are so many crappy things about 'Flareup' that it's oddly compelling; I found yourself wondering if this could be one of the worst films I've ever seen made. The answer seemed to be a resounding 'Yes' ... until I saw the film that followed it, Roger Corman's mega-trashy 'caged heat' classic 'The Big Doll House', which takes Awful to a whole new level. I can heartily recommend these two shlockers as a double-bill. You'll laugh yourself silly.


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