For the past 30 or so years, Larry Cohen has been one of cinema's most prolific schlockmeisters, specializing in action (Black Caesar, Hell Up In Harlem) and trashy horror (It's Alive!, The Stuff). An undercurrent of social satire underlies much of his work, but nowhere is it more pronounced than in his 1972 directorial debut Bone, a withering dark comedy only recently released on video. Made at a time when the upheaval of the '60s seemed to portend more than just disco, The Bay City Rollers, and the Ford administration, Bone focuses on a wealthy couple (Andrew Duggan and Joyce Van Patten) whose lives are changed by the arrival of mysterious stranger Yaphet Kotto. Kotto momentarily wins the couple's favor by removing a rat from their pool, but he soon proves to be the their worst nightmare: a forceful, physically intimidating black rapist who gingerly announces that he has nothing to lose. Over the course of the next few days, tables are turned, roles are reversed, enemies become allies, and the hypocrisies of the bourgeoisie are brought to the surface. It's a familiar dynamic for satires of suburban emptiness, but Bone works thanks to Cohen's slashing wit and eye for telling detail, as well as uniformly fine performances from its leads. Like the protagonist of Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast Of Champions, Duggan's character is a high-profile used-car dealer coming apart at the seams, struggling to maintain an appearance of normality as his world disintegrates before his eyes. But, unlike Bruce Willis in Alan Rudolph's abysmal adaptation of Breakfast, Duggan's upwardly mobile cad has three dimensions and, no matter how callous his behavior, maintains a level of humanity (if not dignity) that keeps the film grounded. As with many self-consciously provocative social satires, Bone's gender politics are dicey at best—there's really no excusing films in which women fall in love with their rapists—but as a small-scale version of the bourgeois apocalypse of Godard's Weekend, Bone's satire cuts deep.