Marihuana

Dwain Esper again, working the drug-panic angle with his usual disregard for craft or truth. One reefer at a beach party leads directly to nude swimming, addiction, kidnapping and death, and the film pads its scant story with dire warnings and a square-up promising to educate parents. The moralising is a fig leaf for the sensation.

Like Esper's other films, it survives as an artifact of the roadshow racket rather than as a movie, its lurid promises never quite delivered. It is cheap, crude and instructive about the era's business.

For students of exploitation's roots, not for entertainment.