When American International Pictures (AIP) released BLACULA in 1972, they had another smash on their hands, and a trend of blending blaxploitation with the macabre captured the imaginations of low budget filmmakers, if only for a few years. AIP’s early 1974 release of SUGAR HILL starred the sultry African American actress Marki Bey, who despite a busy 1970s-era career in TV and movies, failed to become the next Pam Grier or even the next Tamara Dobson. MGM now releases SUGAR HILL on DVD as part of its Limited Edition Collection of manufactured-on-demand goodies.

Professional photographer Diana 'Sugar' Hill (Bey) has a big problem. The goons of southern crime king Morgan (Robert Quarry, COUNT YORGA VAMPIRE) snuff out her boyfriend after he refuses to sell over his Haiti-themed nightclub. Having to witness her lover left for dead outside the club’s door, Sugar is bent on revenge, visiting the reclusive Mama Maitresse (Zara Cully, yes, George Jefferson’s TV mother) an ancient high priestess living in the swamps. Mama Maitresse leads Sugar to Baron Samedi (Don Pedro Colley, BENEATH THE PLANET OF THE APES), a top-hatted, gold-toothed witch doctor who makes a mystical entrance, and after some showy hysterics and intimidating mirth, agrees to aid in Sugar’s vengeful cause. As Baron summons an assemblage of century-old buried slaves from the ground, Sugar now has a small army of “zombie hitmen” to carry out her sweet revenge.

The story of a scorned young African American woman out to get the perpetrators of her lover’s murder is typical of the blaxploitation genre, and with its self-conscious racist dialog (every white bad guy has to use at least one derogatory utterance against a black character), this is pretty much by-the-numbers as far as storytelling is concerned. But SUGAR HILL is an entertaining mix of mumbo jumbo, the living dead and flashy (and at times tacky) 1970s urban action, especially if you don’t set your sights to high and just want to endure a typically over-the-top PG rated AIP picture which meets all the drive-in filler requirements. Far more entertaining than say THE HOUSE ON SKULL MOUNTAIN (released the same year, but is comparatively like watching the paint dry), SUGAR HILL at times plays out like a big screen adaptation of one of those outrageous early 1970s horror comics which you parents didn’t like you keeping under the pillow.

Although the zombie slaves are effective, their theatrical face and body paint, cobweb garnish and metallic pinball eyeballs cause them to cross the camp line. Still, they’re an impressive sight, especially when seen through a fisheye lens or threatening some baddie with a dusty machete. Although Bay is certainly colorful (modeling a number of outfits and wigs throughout the film) and should have been a bigger star (at least in the exploitation film world), it’s Don Pedro Colley as Baron Samedi who steals the show. Although his character owes a lot to Geoffrey Holder as the same-named witch doctor in the previous year’s LIVE AND LET DIE, Colley grimaces and rolls his eyes in every shot, looking and sounding humorously menacing with his shaven head, dark circles under his eyes, facial scars and a mouth full of gold. The script allows his character to slip into the guise of everyday people (a construction worker, bartender, cab driver, etc.) and employ a put-on “Uncle Tom” persona in front of his soon-to-be-doomed enemies.

Shot entirely on location in Texas (substituting as New Orleans), SUGAR HILL was the only film directed by prolific producer Paul Maslansky, who began his career producing the Italian horror favorites CASTLE OF THE LIVING (1964) with Christopher Lee (who he later worked with in RAW MEAT) and SHE BEAST (1966) with Barbara Steele, and he would later go on in infamy with the “Police Academy” series. Writer Tim Kelly’s previous AIP experience was penning the story in which CRY OF THE BANSHEE is based on (of course it was totally revamped by Chris Wicking). The score by Dino Fekaris and Nick Zesses nicely mixes both funk and more traditional scary arrangements, but the catchy theme tune, “Supernatural Voodoo Woman” (written by the duo) was not a hit for The Originals, as released on Motown Records.

The cast also includes Richard Lawson (Blacula’s reluctant manservant in SCREAM BLACULA SCREAM) as the well-meaning detective investigating the strange murders, Betty Ann Rees (Quarry’s pretty female victim in DEATHMASTER) as Morgan’s foulmouthed mistress and Charles Robinson (“Night Court”) as a pimpish goon named Fabulous. He has one of the best scenes; taking place in a massage parlor, a group of female zombies scratch at his back with their rotted fingers while he lays there with his eyes shut. Quarry appears in the last of his films for AIP, and is in asset as a southern accented mob boss who could put on the charm, but is truly cold-blooded inside. Quarry always made a great villain, and it’s nice to see him do one final outing for the company that made him a horror star. His nightmarish run-in with the undead members of his crime clan looks like it could have been lifted directly from Mario Bava’s LISA AND THE DEVIL.