Swamp Country (1966)

When a boozy blonde floozy is found strangled in her Swamper Motel room, a heavy-set visiting Californian--scenarist David DaLie, such unlikely and uncharismatic screen-hero material it's no wonder he wrote the part for himself (who else would cast him?)--unwisely goes running into the surrounding swamplands rather than defend his innocence. (We know he simply left his own motel room to check out the woman's screams, albeit too late to save her. So why would he bolt?) Strapping Lyle Waggoner, later famous on "The Carol Burnett Show" and "Wonder Woman," plays the local sheriff's deputy, his hair highly shellacked.

But the coolest thing about "Swamp Country" is that white bluesman, songwriter and cult musician Baker Knight plays a sort of Greek chorus--singing songs that comment on the action as a layabout who plays in the local bar and anywhere else he pleases. Knight is no actor or much of a looker, either. He still provides a wonderfully sly presence, musically and otherwise, to this eccentric film. His character is eventually kidnapped by Italian-American mobsters seeking to take over the local moonshining biz. He's also Sheriff Jim's romantic rival for the affections of flame-haired Nora.

This is an offbeat, surprisingly polished regional production (to think that primitive B&W Southern drive-in camp classic "Shanty Tramp" came a year later!) whose idiosyncrasies charm. For (threadbare) suspense, it offers peril by bear attack (wait...there are bears in Okefenokee?), quicksand, 'gator, panther (wait...there are panthers in Okefenokee?), and plain old bad people. Its improbabilities include an allegedly 10-year-old tomboy whose older sis looks about two years younger than their slutty 40-ish ma.

This widescreen movie looks great in Something Weird's transfer, with vivid color despite some streaking. There's a cool score and great songs by Knight. It's a pretty silly film but a fun one.