death by stereo.

As ever, just in time for Halloween....(almost) every single horror/cult/Eurotrash themed mix from the infamous Man With No Suitcase pre-club I used to run in 'sunny' Glasgow...and more.

Just the right thing to get your party going with a bang.

Probably.

 

 

 

 

 

 

simple simon.

On the home stretch of 31 Days of Horror now and just realised that I've not featured my favourite Autistic actor yet.*

So I'll do that right now.

Simon Says (2006)
Director: William Dear.
Starring: Sir Crispin of Glover, Margo Harshman, Greg Cipes, Carrie Finklea, Kelly Vitz, Artie Baxter and Blake Lively.

Deciding it would be cool to spend their summer vacation panning for gold (no, really), five high school 'buds', comprising of the annoying, pointed faced Kate (Harshman), annoying pug-nosed 'jock' Zack (Cipes), annoying blonde slut Vickie (Finklea), annoying 'stoner' Riff (Baxter) and annoying rich chick Ashley (Vitz) decide to head out to the woods for a camping holiday.

Taking a wrong turn (but alas not taking it up the casino) they stop at a nearby cemetery to ask directions from the local (twin brother) gravediggers and end up getting told the tale of (another set of) scary twins Stanley and Simon, one of which murdered his brother, family and 'a person for every year he was alive'.

Which is nice if not totally useless in helping them get to their destination.

Unless of course their destination is TERROR.

Know your cast: (l-r) Annoying, annoying,
annoying, annoying and annoying. Oh and Crispin Glover.

 

Anyway 'Hmmm' thinks the audience, 'twin brothers...could they be the killers?'.

Well that might be the case and if it is it's a pity then that the director chose to show pics of the real 'killer twins' in the opening credits leaving us with no doubt that it's the magnificent Mr. Glover playing the mentalist.

Anyway, after a comment about 'filling holes' the brothers send the group on their way reminding them to stop in at the local shop (for local people) for supplies first.

Which is thoughtful.

Arriving at the run down miner's tool shop cum garage cum convenience store they're startled when the owner pops up from behind the counter shouting "Don't steal mah beer it's bad!".

Ladies and gentlemen our hero (and the sole reason for watching) has arrived.

It;s Crispin playing Simon and who by this point we know is dead so I reckon it's safe to say that this is really Crispin playing Stanley in 'disguise'.

A disguise that consists of a pair of filthy waders and a large hat.

Genius.

Luckily bad boy Riff scares Simon away by shouting "Retard!" at him and the teens go about their business.

Overly excited by his show of manliness  Riff heads off for a wee where he comes across (wouldn't we all?) the suave and sophisticated Stanley who promptly apologies for his brother before refusing to sell them fags ("smoking kills!") and drooling over Kate's hand whilst calling her 'dream girl'.

He does point them in the direction of the most secluded part of the woods tho' so it isn't all bad.

Just the acting.

I dream of pointy.

It's not long then (it is a short film) before the friends have set up camp, changed into skimpy bikini's and bright shorts and gotten down to the business of 'partying on' as the youngsters say.

But there tensions are in the air, slutster Vickie wants hunky Zack for herself, harsh Kate wants a cleaner barbecue, Riff wants to get 'stoned' and squeaky Ashley wants to go jogging.

So our merry band split up.

Bad idea.

Vickie offers to go help Zac 'get wood' for the fire whilst Ashley runs off listening to shitey MOR soft rock on her stereo (she deserves to die for her music taste alone) leaving Riff and Kate to chat about drug misuse and hygiene whilst cooking before taking the hint he finally drives off to buy cleaning products.

And booze.

Yes I know what teenagers forget to take booze on a camping weekend?

Insert penis here.

After all this talk of choppers and wood, Vickie and Zack indulge in some 'film sex' (you know fully clothed and pulling faces) only to be interrupted by athletic (but still annoying) Ashley jogging by. She stops at camp only to shout "Zack was shagging Vickie!" to Kate before disappearing behind a bush.

Now this is where the fun starts, you see unbeknown to them, the group of friends are being watched....by a man dressed as a tree and it can only be a matter of time before they're forced to play a deadly game of 'chase me now!' with the slightly schizo Stanley involving giant mechanical pick axe launchers, cannons that fire spiked logs and worst of all, moldy sandwiches.

And if that wasn't enough we still have the sight of soon-to-be famous Blake Lively trussed up in a shed like a pig in a market to look forward to.

Way back when I heard that William Dear, acclaimed director of Bigfoot and The Hendersons and Teen Agent was making his first foray into horror I couldn't help but get excited, especially when you know Mr Glover-man himself is involved (and signed up for two sequels....what happened?).

I just knew this was going to be a classic.

Then I watched it.

Lurching from a Friday The 13th homage (with a huge dash of the Chuck Connor's 1979 'classic' Tourist Trap thrown in) to moments of uneasy comedy via genuinely ingenious death scenes (including death by joint, death by hanging/swung at a WV camper van, death by spiky log etc.), Simon Says is as schizophrenic as it's main character with a tone that veers wildly from funny to creepy to cringe worthy and back from one scene to another (and sometimes in the middle of scenes) to a point where the director appears to be working from an idea's list rather than a completed script.

Oh and decided to outfit the villain entirely from an Aldi Special Buys fishing catalogue.

Crispin's farted...
and it's an eggy one.

 

Take for example the 'deserted' forest the teens are camping in, after stressing the point of how isolated it is ad infinitum, Stanley suddenly happens across a team of paint ballers and a group of combat clad kick boxers and their dog all within minutes of starting his stalking shenanigans.

Seriously it's busier than our local A and E on a match day.

Or your mums bedroom when your dad's away fishing.

As a plus point it does mean we get to see Mr. Glover kill a few more folk in a variety of interesting ways plus squash a Terrier with his combat boots, but you do wonder if it's such a popular place why no-one has notices the countless families, hitch hikers and pets that have gone missing over the years since Stanley was let out of jail for murdering his family.

Then there's Stanley's weapon of choice, a large pick axe cannon.

All well and good but at one point it appears to be firing over a hundred axes per second in all it's CGI glory.....it's a wonder there's any trees left.

Plus wouldn't he have to wander the forest picking them all up again? that'd take forever.

This films equivalent of a making of book.

Worth watching for Crispin Glover wearing a large pair of trousers made from the contents of a lawn mower bucket and squashing a dog, Simon Says ultimately disappoints (unlike its star), the 'shock' ending is quite nice tho' even if it is signposted within the first 3 minutes of the film.

One for fans of twin based, grass trousered Crispin Glover horror movies only.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*And before you say anything yes he is...I should know, I've met him and can smell my own kind.

So there.

seaman stays.

You know when you get to that point on a Saturday night when you've eaten and drunk so much you can't move so just grab the first thing on the shelf?

 

The Rift, (AKA Endless Descent, 1990).

Dir: Juan Piquer Simón.

Cast: Jack Scalia, R. Lee Ermey, Ray Wise, Deborah Adair, John Toles Bey, Ely Pouget, Emilio Linder, Tony Isbert, Álvaro Labra, Luis Lorenzo, Frank Braña, Pocholo Martínez-Bordiú, Edmund Purdom, Garrick Hagon as Barton (as Garick Hagon) and Jed Downey.

 

 

"Bio-lab, sick bay, and the engine room are off limits. The algae has infected them!"

 

Top secret supersub Siren I (or is it Syren? or Sirene? no-one seems to be sure if I'm honest) has disappeared in mysterious circumstances leaving the bigwigs in Washington (played by the legendary - well around here anyway Edmund Purdom and Biggs Darklighter himself Garrick Hagon) no choice but to turn to the subs original designer - the big haired living beefcake that is Wick Hayes (American teevee regular and Eminence underpants model Scalia, looking for all the world like a love child of 80s era Mel Gibson and Kurt Russell if bought from Wish) to investigate the situation.

The official line is that Hayes shoddy design was to blame for the disaster but it turns out that this was just a cover story to hide the fact that the military added some secret stuff to the original Siren (nuclear torpedoes, experimental gene replicators, a dartboard etc.) without asking his permission.

Which would be OK if they admitted it to the folk Hayes will be working with as right now they all think he's just a bad designer with a shit mullet who gets folk killed due to negligence.

"What is this? Have you built a submarine for ants?!!?"

 

 

Leading the mission is the ball-breaking, no nonsense navy Capt. Phillips (Lee Ermey, essaying his role from Full Metal Jacket) ) alongside the Lego-haired bio-genetics expert Lt. Nina Crawley (Dynasty, The Love Boat, Days Of Our Lives and Melrose Place star Adair) who, it turns out used to be in a relationship with Hayes.

This is fairly unimportant tho' and will only come up once in the entire film and then only with them holding hands and gazing into each others eyes for about 30 seconds.

Let's just say character building is not this films strong point.

Neither is plot, effects or acting tho' if I'm honest.

Also onboard to fill out the painting-by-numbers cast - which I will admit does feature a comedy Italian cook played by Luis Lorenzo in his best "Itsa me Mario!" voice, a terrifyingly eyebrowed German engineer played by Frank Braña from Pieces, "Skeets" - a wise-cracking cliched 80s black man in tiny silk shorts shouting "Shit!" a lot played by John Toles-Bey from Dude, Where's My Car? and Lawnmower Man II 'star' Ely Pouget looking a wee bit sweaty as Ana - is a mysterious and twitchy new computer expert Harold Robbins - no, not that one - played by Ray Wise, obviously trying to cover his mortgage before starting to film Twin Peaks.

So with the cast introduced it's time to power up the Siren II (think the Seaview set from Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea hastily reconstructed in an old Radio Shack warehouse and sprayed silver to hide the cracks) as they head out into the unknown to search for the ill-fated Siren's black box recorder or something.

To be honest none of this makes any sense.

 

A yellow submarine parked in the town where I was born yesterday.

 

After an exciting ZX81 graphics style encounter with some icebergs (turns out the navigation system hasn't been aligned properly for all the new shit they've added to the sub which is nice) the sub dives to over 27,000 feet (no me neither) into a mysterious abyss (not that one) where the crew are surprised to see a massive kelp forest at depths where photosynthesis is impossible.

Spooky.

Wanting to  pad out the runtime, sexy haired Sven (Spanish teevee god and actually aristocrat Martinez) is sent out to investigate - in scuba gear which is a wee bit mad seeing as it would only work up to (down to?) 130 feet but let's be honest, are we really here for the science?

Well Lt Crawley is as she very quickly blames this development on the experimental transgenic accelerator that the Siren crew were testing.

Anyway upon leaving the sub Sven soon comes across not only a dead body and an old toilet seat but mysterious jet stream of warm water emanating from a crack in the seabed.

Everything is going swimmingly (sorry) as he carefully takes a sample of the kelp but as soon as he tries to take some photographs the flash awakens the vines which tear him limb from limb.

Shocked and more than a little surprised by their encounter with the killer seaweed the crew decide to surface and radio for back-up only to find the sub engulfed by what looks like a discarded condom that attempts to crush them - and the sub - to death.

No caption required.

Luckily Hayes knows a thing or two about dealing with used condoms and orders Robbins to reverse the polarity of the subs shields in order to electrocute it and scare it away.

Look it sounded legit at the time.

Surprisingly this actually works and the condom beast retreats but not before draining all the ships power sending it hurtling to not just the bottom of the ocean (which is 35,876 feet down and is found in the Pacific Ocean's Mariana Trench, at a place called Challenger Deep fact fans) but even further still to 45,000 feet according to the ships readouts. 

Now I'm no scientist but surely that would mean that they'd go all the way thru and pop out the other side a wee bit like the end of At The Earth's Core or something doesn't it?

As all around him panic, Hayes manages to pilot the sub onto a handy ledge that leads into a pressurized undersea cavern from which - deep inside - they pick up an SOS from the Siren.

Which is quite lucky seeing as when the crew investigate they can do it in decorators overalls and painters masks rather that in expensive scuba gear whilst wobbling about on wires as they're filmed thru' a fish tank.

 

Here come the Belgians!

 

Boarding a kiddies Paw Patrol dingy the crew soon make shore where they come across scattered piles of equipment from the siren but no signs of life - or intelligent script writing obviously - so decide to head further into the caverns where they find a huge stack of high-tech CD roms explaining the entire plot (which is quite lucky).

Preparing to head back to the sub they're suddenly attacked - in a scene that would do 70s Doctor Who proud - by giant ball-headed paper-mache bees that live in holes in the cave walls.

Imagine Aliens remade by Haribo infused toddlers and you're halfway there.

The team split up, running and screaming in different directions with Hayes and "Skeets" (and someone else but seeing as they're all wearing masks I can't really tell) managing to make it back to the sub before the character that's not either of them gets eaten by a giant rubbery mutant cod.

Who knew genetic splicing could be so much fun?

Unfortunately it's no safer aboard the Siren II tho' as the kelp sample has mutated (again) and has begun infecting the crew via the subs water system and making the engine room look like an overgrown garden.

Laugh now.

 

As our heroes discuss a plan of action the radio crackles to life. It appears that poor Ana is trapped in a cupboard, low on ammo and surrounded by beasts.

Obviously Hayes decides to mount a rescue mission (as opposed to mounting "Skeets" who I must admit has a really nice arse, especially in those aforementioned silk shorts) so the remaining crew suit up and head back into the caves.

Fighting their way toward Ana the team are (fairly) surprised - this happens a lot - to discover a room full of specimen cages and computers whilst Ana, heading deeper into the makeshift lab complex has discovered dozens of amniotic sacs contain strange hybrid human/fish babies (or people from West Bromwich as we call them here) alongside a giant genetic splicer cum DNA accelerator that surprisingly looks like a large industrial washing machine with a disco ball on top.

Oh yes and a giant man-eating starfish stuck to a wall.

At least it's not chocolate.

Unfortunately Ana doesn't get much chance to examine the beast as no sooner has she stopped for breath than some slimy tentacles slip out of the accelerator and drag her inside in order to fiddle with her genes.

Tho' I thought she was wearing Chinos.

But as our merry band fight for survival in the caves, Robbins is busy back at the sub packing the recovered CDs into a rucksack before prepping the escape pod. 

It seems he's a government spy who's only onboard to recover the missing data and dispose of anyone who discovers the truth regarding the fate of Siren I.

What a rascal.

Will Hayes and co. make it back to the sub in time?

Or will Robbins kill our heroes and score one for the evil government agency?

Go on, guess.

Strange as it may seem to any youngsters reading, way back in the late 80s/early 90s there was a huge upsurge in underwater adventure movies James Cameron had announced The Abyss so almost every film company and producer going, from Roger Corman to Dino De Laurentiis jumped in at the deep end to snatch a piece of this fish pie.

Obviously with all the secrecy surrounding The Abyss everyone assumed that the movie would be in the same style as Aliens so water-based bio-mechanoid menaces were on the bill with Lords Of The Deep, Leviathan and Deepstar Six among the first to be released.

Bizarrely there's more than just a cash-grab genre link with Leviathan and The Rift, you see both films were co-produced by (an uncredited) Dino De Laurentiis who must have really loved this script.

Or needed a tax break obviously.

 

"You chase me now!"

So with that tiny bit of backstory out of the way the main question is - is it any good?

Well it's from Juan Piquer Simon that made Pieces so it all kinda rest on what you think of that really.

Oh and if you enjoyed his adaptation of Slugs obviously.

But probably not Cthulhu Mansion as that is genuinely shite.

Even tho' it features the frankly fantastic Frank Finlay and another star turn from Frank Braña.

Oh and Melanie Shatner.

But I digress.

The Rift is cheap as chips with an almost total lack of any acting or characterization (save for Ray Wise and his coffee jitters and the permanently scowling R. Lee Ermey) and a plot so paper thin that it actually blew away at one point when I moved too quickly past the teevee to have a piss, the effects could hardly be call 'special' or even effects and the monsters are hardly seen (except for the big starfish that is which just bought Contamination to mind, whether that's good or bad I'll leave to you) but bizarrely enough I couldn't stop watching.

Yes maybe I'd drunk way too much and couldn't move from the sofa but I could've still passed out if it were that bad.

I mean ask your Auntie Jean if you don't believe me.

Studly.

But scarily it's infinitely watchable - yes you've seen it all before (and done so much better) but somehow it wins you over and by the end credits you realise that it wasn't actually that bad at all.

I'm either getting soft in my old age or I'm beginning to lose my mind as I hit my mid 50s.

Either way it's all good.

halloween squared.

 

celebrity love island.

 

 

With it being the home stretch of this whole 31 days of horror fiasco I've decided that it's time to revisit this quality Joe D'Amato 'classic' as a way of 'celebrating'.

I'm blaming this on the fact that I rewatched Wild Beasts t'other day and felt like a frisky femme fix after the joy of seeing Lorraine De Selle strut her sexy stuff.

Don't be too harsh on me tho' when I admit to having a really soft spot for this film, it was one of those movies that always sat at the back of your 'nasties' cupboard when you were 15 (alongside the Malcolm McDowell masterpiece Caligula and Mad Foxes).

The 80's: That's how we all dressed.

It disappeared from my collection during one of my frequent moves during the late 80's but bizarrely enough a few years ago I was sent a copy in the post by my mad uncle Quentin - alongside an out of date condom and a copy of the Anime series Sex Friend which he'd mistakenly purchased thinking it was called Sex Fiend but I digress.
 
So saddle up and prepare to revisit those heady days of Pop Will Eat Itself, Red Stripe in cans, starchy school uniforms and dodgy Marc Almond haircuts.....


Le Notti Erotiche Dei Mort Viventi (AKA Erotic Nights Of The Living Dead 1980)
Dir: Joe D'Amato
Cast: Laura Gemser, George Eastman, Mark Shannon, Dirce Funari and some other folk obviously but they're the most important ones.

Salty Oirish seadog, Captain 'amazing' Larry O'Hara (played by the half man half giant sweat gland that is D'Amato regular George Eastman, this time wearing Al Cliver's beard and Auretta Gaye's breasts) has been hired to take a big mustached, 'sexy' American businessman/playboy/STD riddled sex tourist Mr. John Wilson (yes, the Man in Haini's Fantasy from Orgasmo Nero himself, Mark Shannon) and his 'girlfriend' Fiona (the fantastically named Dirce Funari from D'Amato's Porno Holocaust) to visit the remote island of Briny Cleft where the businessman is planning to build an exclusive holiday resort.

Presumably one exclusively for the use of big mustachioed playboys wearing bri-nylon.

"Are you looking at my bra?"

After what seems like days of on deck shagging, drinking, comparing of man-tits and  the like they finally arrive at the island to find a spookily sexy voodoo lady (and I don't mean maybe) named Luna (Gemser, ask your mum) and her bony old dad Geoff waiting for them on the beach.

And they don't look happy.

Saying that tho' if someone told me I was going to have to put Mark Shannon's warty cock in my mouth for a measly 25 quid I'd be a wee bit pissed off too.

It appears that the island is cursed and bad things (other than the imminent risk of herpes) are going to occur if they don't scarper back to the boat pretty sharpish.

You see, this is an island of the dead and they don't take kindly to property developers disturbing their sleep.

Either by building stuff or having sex a lot.

Which is fair enough really.

"Excuse me I appear to have accidentally stuck my cock in you".

Obviously the only way to deal with this frankly terrifying revelation is to indulge in a bit - well a lot - more sex.

Which is nice.

And it must be our lucky day cos not only do we get to experience the sheer joy of Eastman's hairy arse thrusting up and down as he attempts to pleasure an obviously bored Funari but also the unbridled passions of Gemser and Funari (again - the poor girl will be knackered) as the pervy pair get down to some furious scissoring.

It's not all bareback bummings tho' because D'Amato knows what we're really here for.

Yup, the undead.

Oh go on then and took gaze in awe at the dusky and dirty pillowed Gemser.

But mainly the undead.

Who it has to be said do indeed rise to take revenge on the interlopers in a surprisingly tense scene that's actually quite cinematic and stylish thanks to the use of a fog machine and a couple of blue lenses.

Great cinematography in a Joe D'Amato flick?

Will wonders never cease?

Rrrrraaaaannnnggggeeerrrrssss!!!

It's at this point that the movie goes a wee bit strange - which seeing as it had a woman opening a bottle of Champagne with her fanny during the films opening is saying something - as without rhyme nor reason the lovely Gemser suddenly turns into a cat (or a child's cuddly toy I can't really tell) and back again before biting Mark Shannon's cock off as Eastman runs into the sea screaming before turning round and running out again.

Maybe it was too cold?

As a plus point it does give us a chance to see his huge hairy nipples rubbing against his wet vest so it's not all for nothing.

And what is the foxy Funari doing during all this I hear you ask?

Well she's sitting on the beach clad only in a massive pair of grey granny pants sobbing and snottering everywhere whilst the undead slowly creep toward her.

Will our heroes survive the zombie hordes and live to shag another day?

Go on, guess.

Like his other genre molesting crossover Porno Holocaust - both of which were shot over two weeks in the same Dominican Republic locations with only minor variations in cast and crew (mainly due to Tetanus jabs being required -  it's difficult to see who D'Amato was aiming these films at.

Present company excepted obviously.

The usual porn brigade are no doubt going to be put off by the scenes of undead induced violence whilst your everyday horror fan is probably not going to want to see Mark Shannon's wart-infested scrotum.

Possibly.It does beg the question is this a rare example of the unsung genius that is D'Amato sneakily toying with the porn crowds expectations and enjoyment by creating a genre defying work of cinematic art never since matched?

Probably not but it would be nice to think so.

Even for a short while.

"Put it in me!"

Yet, despite all the crap shags, woeful performances and the aforementioned sight of Eastman's girlfriend opening a bottle of Champagne with her vagina, the island scenes are steeped with a genuinely nightmarish atmosphere thanks to D'Amato's moody, if sometimes zoomtastic, cinematography.

Marcello Giombini's eerie score is suitably, um, eerie and the 'exotic' Laura Gemser is always worth a mention.

If not a quick hand shandy every now and then, especially if you're watching her fitness video.

Or so your dad says.

There is even the odd spooky scene along the way, like the one when Shannon, sceptical of the zombie curse, throws away a protective talisman only to see it transform into a cat as it hits the sand.

Pity this can't be said about the later scenes of zombies dropping from trees tho' seeing as they look exactly like what they are, which is groups of unfortunate drunk homeless men being pushed out of bushes.

Saying that it's probably better to be pushed off by D'Amato than wracked off.

Especially seeing as he's been dead over 20 years.

Funari: Smashing arse.

But for all it's faults and uncomfortable close ups of ugly warts, sagging arses and lopsided breasts (stand up and be counted Ms. Funari) Le Notti Erotiche Dei Mort Viventi comes across (quite literally) as the bastard, inbred offspring of Fulci's Zombi 2 and Jess Franco's Nightmares Come at Midnight with a wee bit of Ferdinando Di Leo's Klaus Kinski starrer Asylum Erotica thrown in - or up - for good measure.

I mean if you're going to steal steal from the best.

Plus it's slightly funnier than D'Amato's Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals (plus it hasn't got a bizarre arse obsessed subplot) and a damn sight more erotically charged than The Boy In The Striped Pajamas.

And that really isn't such a bad thing if you think about it.

jacked straw.

Well it wouldn't be 31 Days of Horror without a wee bit of Udo Kier and whilst not really "The 'Orrah" it was once banned as a video nasty and if it's good enough for the Director of Public Prosecutions then it's bloody well good enough for me.

Enjoy!

Exposé (AKA House on Straw Hill, Trauma. 1976).
Dir: James Kenelm Clarke.
Cast: Sir Udo of Kier, Lynda Hayden, Fiona Richmond, Patsy Smart, Vic Armstrong and Karl Howman.

"There is no such thing as a heterosexual man,
only a man who has never seen Udo Kier".

The hot as hell - and dubbed to fuck - bright young author Paul Martin (Kier, the reason for watching) has everything; a fantastic career, money, an all day bus pass and the ability to have sex with any man, woman, child or pet he fancies.

So why he starts the movie humping the famously pig snouted, soft core icon Fiona Richmond is anyone's guess.*

But at least he's wearing rubber gloves save he gets burnt by her frighteningly Sunny Delight coloured skin.

Honestly it looks like he's shagging a giant human shaped satsuma.

But I digress.

It's obvious to anyone watching that this coupling would affect even the strongest, most red blooded man and Udo is no exception, seeing as within minutes of emptying his luscious Aryan seed into her gaping chasm the poor sod begins suffering from panic attacks, nightmarish visions of ghastly murders and blood filled bath tubs.

As you can probably guess, this isn't helping him finish his latest novel.

Richmond: Too orangey for crows.

Needing help to unlock his story muse (and reckoning the audience deserve to see someone a wee bit more attractive than an average Granny wandering around with her kit off) Paul arranges for his publishers to send a no nonsense secretary to assist him with his writing.

Unfortunately - for him - they actually send the naughtiest nymphet ever seen in British horror, the incredible Linda Hayden.

Meeting Paul at the local train station, it's not long before Linda's (yes she shares her character name which is much easier for me to remember who's who) ample charms are spotted by a couple of local troublemakers - including the star of Brit shit-com Brush Strokes Karl Howman - who start shouting suggestive and downright dirty things at her.

The filthy louts.

Paul (being played by cinema's - nay the worlds - sexiest man) has no choice but to kick the shite out of them before popping into the local shop for a king sized Mars bar for him and a Kinder Egg for Linda.

Hayden: Paddington but not yet bare (arsed).

Heading back to the house Linda offers to cook Paul a slap up meal to say thank you and after spending an hour slaving over a hot stove arrives at the table with a huge full English breakfast.

Tucking in to the delicious dish Paul fails to notice that the breakfast is lacking the most important ingredient.

A big, greasy pork sausage.

Where could it be?

Surprisingly (that'll be a distinct lack of suspense for you) we find out in the next scene as Linda is using it as a makeshift cock, masturbating furiously (and very loudly, I mean the first time I saw this I had to stop what I was doing and turn the sound down for fear of waking my parents up) as she gazes at a framed photo of a strange man.

I have to admit that it was at this point that the films plot lost any credibility, I mean who the fuck would wank over a photo of a man when Udo was in the next room?**

Linda Hayden's breasts: responsible for the needless deaths of thousands of teen boy sperm in the 70's.

Fancying a bit of fresh air after all that pig meat based shenanigans Linda heads out for a walk in the secluded fields surrounding the house, giving herself a chance to enjoy the countryside's natural beauty to a cheap seventies porn soundtrack.

It's not long tho' before all these sights (sheep rutting, pigs running around, their firm pink bottoms wobbling as they go) and sounds (cows mooing suggestively, a crow) of nature begin to have a strange yet arousing affect on the saucy secretary, giving her no alternative than to hoist up her skirt, drop her panties and get fiddling.

All's going well (as well as masturbating in a field can go) when who should turn up but the loud mouthed bad boys from earlier, watching Linda from afar whilst suggestively brandishing a shotgun, licking their lips (their own not each others obviously) and rubbing their crotches.

All this grass based eroticism sends them into such a sexual frenzy that the pair have no alternative but to rape Linda.

Very roughly indeed.

And at gunpoint.***

But not, alas shite in her mooth.

Well maybe not in this version.

Karl Howman's arse yesterday:
Admit it, you would.

Controversially Linda appears to be enjoying the rough buggery.

Well up until the point where she grabs the shotgun and shoots both her assailants that is.

Which isn't undeserved if I'm honest.

Brushing herself down and cleaning the grass off her knees Linda heads back to the house only to be confronted by Paul who's desperate for a shag off a real woman, sick as he is of shagging fruit/grannie hybrids.

It is here that the films second attempt at stark attempts at realism fall apart as Linda knocks back Udo.

Yeah, like that would ever happen.

Furious (and in a state of utter disbelief), he phones satsuma Suzanne before sending Linda to pick her up from the train station.

They arrive back at the house just in time to stop Paul exploding over the sofa and, without so much as a thank you to Linda for fetching her the pair rip each others clothes off and start banging away against the antique sideboard.

Obviously not turned on by frisky fruit (of both kinds) the sex-mad secretary escapes into the night.

What your nan really gets up to at bingo.

Coming to his senses (but not before coming over Suzanne's monkey-like face) Paul gives chase and is last seen running toward his car with his arse bathed in moonlight as Linda sneaks back into the house for an intense bit of girl on gran action with Suzanne before - in a bizarre piece of post sex fun - following our orange-hued pal into the bathroom and sticking a huge knife in her.

Five times.

Meanwhile as he's driving back to the house, Paul notices that someone has tampered with the brakes causing him (in one of cinemas greatest action sequences) to crash into a duck pond leaving our hero soaked thru', battered, bloodied and most importantly with his luxurious hair all messed up.

You still would tho'.

Udo: We Kier a lot.

Stumbling sexily toward the front door he is confronted by the mad as a lorry Linda wielding a big gun and grinning like a loon.

It seems that years previously Paul stole a manuscript from her husband and passed it off as his own causing the poor sod to kill himself.

And now Linda wants revenge on Paul and all those close to him....

Will she succeed?

Or will our plagiarist playboy escape unscathed?

Jack of all trades; writer, composer, director and tea-maker James Clarke assures a place for himself in scabby cinema history with this strange little erotic revenge thriller, the only British film ever to make an appearance on the Department of Public Prosecutions infamous 'video nasty' list with a movie as bizarre behind the scenes as it is in front of it.

Produced as it was by Brian Smedley-Aston (the man behind Vampyres, Let's Get Laid, the Brigitte Lahaie starrer Erotica and the little seen The Wildcats of St. Trinian's) and financed by British porn baron Paul Raymond as a star vehicle for his then partner Fiona Richmond who was, at the time Britain's biggest sex star, Exposé - not too surprising - veers uncomfortably between scenes of full frontal nudity and hard core violence in a schizophrenic attempt to appease both the dirty Mac crowd and those wanting more visceral thrills from their movies, failing to fully deliver to either and falling uncomfortably between the two stools of sleaze and suspense.

Exactly like your Auntie Jean at Christmas.

The sexiest movie poster of all time?

It's not all bad tho' and if you can manage to stomach the horrifying image of Richmond naked and thrusting in all her perma-tan glory at the films beginning then there's a fair bit of fun to be had and not just the sight of eighties Teeve icon Karl Howman trying to be a big butch rapist but also with the genius casting of the always yummy English Rose that is Linda Hayden, who brings her trademark faux innocence, erotic charm, chubby cheeks, fantastic breasts and frankly smashing array of blouses to her role as loopy Linda.

Much like she did with every film she appeared in during her heyday.

You young things with your Brie Larson's and your Margot Robbie's really have no idea.

Is it just me or are you desperate to
ski down these milky white thighs too?

And saving the best till last we have the great god Udo Kier at the start (but not the height) of his - not inconsiderable - acting powers.

For those under the spell of this man the movie is the Holy Grail, still unreleased on shiny disc in the UK due to a government crackdown on Udo Kier, we can only hope that someone will see fit to release the Limited Edition 3 disc set from Serverin over here at some point for those of us too tight to buy a multi-region Blu-Ray player.

I mean my cardboard Intervision box is little more than a soggy pulp by now.
















*Maybe, just maybe because her partner at the time - British porn baron Paul Raymond was an executive producer.



**Not me that's for sure.



***Which seemed to be the equivalent of saying 'hello!' in the 70s.

double billed.

 

 

Been busy doing some actual work of late (well I say actual work but in reality I've been cutting together hundreds of unrelated horror clips in some kind of order for a Halloween club night in town...it's an Autistic gift) but didn't want you to feel left out so decided to do a quality double bill last night as a way to placate my ever dwindling readership during this fangtastic 31 days of horror.
 

Plus Blogger seems to be pulling my reviews left, right and centre at the moment so I reckon a double dose may confuse them..

Anyway they're both fairly short as I've been up late and am slightly knackered.

No doubt you'll be grateful for small mercies.

Me? I'm just grateful I can still buy shite like this in the pound shop.

As ever normal 'mooth-shite in' will be resumed as soon as I finish up everything....

Or get a total ban obviously.

But enough chat, let's begin with the bone-tastic.....

Army of The Dead (2008).
Dir: Joseph Conti.
Cast: Ross Kelly, Stephanie Marchese, Miguel Martinez, Mike Hatfield, Audrey Anderson, Vic Browder, Jocelyn Tucker and some skeletons.

The year is 1590 and a (very) small group of conquistadors lost on their way back from bingo have found themselves wandering aimlessly thru' a never ending series of plaster caves in the vague hope of finding a taxi rank.

Unfortunately they only have a couple of quid left so it's quite fortuitous when the conquistador leader Chaz finds a pile of gold coins in the corner.

Unfortunately it turns out that these are scary cursed gold coins that cause the stars in the sky turn black and the moon to turn blood red.

Which is nice.

If that wasn't enough to cause a spike in viewer incontinence then the appearance of a group of GCI-ed skeletons wielding children's toy swords and screaming for blood may be responsible for a few loose stools at a later date.

"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAANNGGEERRSSS!!!!"

Meanwhile in the present day, the movies square jawed hero ex_England player and rapper, John Barnes (The Stink of Flesh's Kelly, a kind of low rent Chris Pine but with the hint of a man haunted by past school day indiscretions) and his foxy wife Amy (kissy lipped and tustle haired Marchesi) are celebrating John's birthday with a weekend of off-road fun in some pimped up VW’s.

Also along for the ride is his instantly forgettable pal (we'll call him Jeff), his drunken ex-girlfriend Jenny (Anderson but not the one from The X Files), another couple I'd actually forgotten about till I watched the credits and his old university professor Gordon Vasquez (Martinez from Klown Kamp Massacre and your Mum's bed).

Undead skeletons on the rampage? Well don't expect this guy, the movie's too cheap even for him.

But wouldn't you know it, the professor has an altogether more sinister agenda, one that  involves the cursed gold, a couple of incompetent mercenaries and a variety of ill-fitting combat trousers.

Suffice to say that as soon as he finds the coins the skeletons once again rise and start committing acts of bloodied and bony mayhem.

Who saw that coming?

"OK everyone.....LOOK AT THE DOG!"

But it's not only the professor, his beard and his gung-ho hired hands that are in the skeletons sights seeing as John and his pals seem to think that a wee bit of Aztec gold might come in handy down the line...

Insert cock here.

With a budget less than the amount it takes to get your sister drunk and with costumes supplied wholesale from your friendly neighbourhood Poundland, how could you possibly slag off Joseph Conti's CGI shite fest?

Well for a start the acting ranges from serviceable to sodden, there's way too much time taken up with footage of steroid-strapped VW's cruising around the desert, it features one of the most abysmal beards ever to grace the screen and there's a distinct lack of nudity.

But we're here for the skeletons right?

And surprisingly they're not too shady, fairly scary and almost indestructible.

Their only weakness?

A giant Tesla coil.

Ahem, quite.

Well what did you expect for a quid?

Jason and The Argonauts?

 

Dr. Moreau's House of Pain (2004).
Dir: Charles (mighty, fallen) Band.
Cast: John Patrick Jordan, Jessica Lancaster, Peter Donald Badalamenti II, Lorielle New, Ling Aum, B.J. Smith, Debra Mayer, Laura Ushijima and Jacob Witkin.

“My surgical skills might have been a bit sharper
if you hadn’t have cracked my skull open.”

Square faced second rate pugilist Eric (Jordan, better known as Tommy in Porky's: The College Years) is sitting in an old convertible outside a sleazy nightclub, desperately trying to find his brother Roy, who's disappeared at some point prior to the opening titles.

The film isn't that specific as to say where or when, I have a feeling it might not be that important.

Along for the ride are ace girl reporter Mary Ann (the late, great Mayer from Decadent Evil Dead) and Eric's girlfriend Judith (Lancaster, who's bound to have been in some other stuff but to be honest I can't be arsed checking).

Anyway, it seems that Roy spent most of his nights here watching one stripper in particular and Eric is determined to find out why.

Or at the very least get to crack one off in a private booth. 

Entering the club and taking a stage-side seat, Eric uses his not inconsiderable charm in an attempt to pump the barkeep for information concerning his missing bro'. All he gets tho' is "Your bruvva pure fancies the next stripper by the way....oh and it's four quid for the Babycham".

 
So, who is this mysterious beauty that every man seems to fall madly in love with at first sight?

Enter the illustrious Alliana (the seductively cat-like New) a spooky blonde nymph whose hypnotic moves soon turn Roy's legs to jelly.

 

Aye hen!

 

After sitting thru' the entire rosta of acts (including a magician and chicken shaver) Eric sneakily follows Alliana out to her car only to be accosted by an evil gangster type, Jeff Badman who also has a big girly crush on our stripping pal.

Which isn't too surprising seeing as she appears to be the cleanest member of the cast.

Feeling particularly manly and after delivering a swift kick to Eric's nuts Jeff attempts to force himself on Alliana only to have her snarl like a wolf and put her fist thru' his head.

Eric, shocked and maybe a wee bit aroused by this grabs the women folk and runs back to his car, following Alliana back to an old, crumbling asylum on the outskirts of town.

Unfortunately for the film makers the town is in Romania where this was shot not Hollywood as we're meant to believe.

Mary Ann kindly fills them (and us) in with the history of the place, from the mad mentalists that stayed there to the rumours of satanic parties held in the cellar.

Which is nice.

Having served her purpose as Ms. exposition, Mary Ann is promptly grabbed by a big hairy, cat faced man-beast before being dragged kicking and screaming into the darkness.

Rum, sodomy and the lash.

Meanwhile back at the plot Alliana has taken delivery of the gangsters body to one Dr. Moreau (the homeless yet still leathery of balls Sean Connery lookalike and recovering alcoholic Witkin from Showgirls), who ably assisted by his two favourite 'manimals' the aforementioned kitty masked Peewee (Smith) and a whiny voiced dwarf in a pig costume named Gallagher (Badalamenti II: Electric Boogaloo - but no Simon McCorkindale alas) are on the lookout for spare body parts to help accelerate the transition of his genetically altered manimals to full human status.

As one does.

Unfortunately for all involved, Jeff Badman had a shocking dose of the clap when he died rendering his organs useless so it's a good thing that Alliana's been followed by the hunky Eric and co. isn't it?

I mean, there's no way they'd have any STD's and the like.

Well, except Jessica Lancaster obviously, I felt unclean just looking at her if I'm honest.

 

Up the casino for coppers you say?

 

In between all this furry back biting and faintly embarrassing animal acting it transpires that poor old Moreau’s not actually in charge of this so called house of pain and it's the manimals (all three of them) that are pulling the strings, each with their own convoluted agenda.

Firstly Alliana, who it turns out is actually a humanised leopard, wants a young studly mate, Peewee (half mountain lion, half carpet) wants to break stuff and cheeky little Gallagher is constantly horny and just wants somewhere to put his teeny tiny cock.

So who's got there eye on Eric and who's got there eye on Judith do you think?

In mah mooth.

 

 

If that wasn't enough to keep you interested there's also a shady Chinaman named Pak Mon (Aum) drunkenly stumbling around the asylum whilst carrying a big stick in one hand and a huge oven chip on his shoulder.

You see, he was once Moreau’s assistant back in the 'Island of' days when Moreau (for a laugh obviously) experimented on Pak's young daughter Gorgona (Ushijima, bless you), leaving her stuck with half a fish-face and a mouldy oven glove for a hand.

Back in the basement (and seemingly unconcerned by Mary Ann's disappearance) Eric and Judith continue to wander around aimlessly until they're captured by a still horny Gallagher and an incredibly frustrated Peewee; it seems he accidentally crushed Mary Ann's ribcage whilst trying to unbutton her blouse, meaning the poor lovelorn sod has taken to sulkily carrying her bloodied corpse around on his shoulder whimpering like a small girl.

Realising that there haven't been any gratuitous tit shots for about twenty minutes, Alliana takes Eric back to her boudoir for a bout of sweaty naked cat sex, which comes across about as erotically as watching your Gran shagging one of your school chums.

All I could think of was how much Alliana looked as if she could do with a hug.
 

Oh, and how I'd never tire of kicking Eric in the face.
 

I'm sorry, it's been one of those days.

 

From beyond the gravy.

 

Whilst Eric heads back to his cage and Alliana lies purring whilst wriggling around in the damp patch Pak and Moreau are enjoying their weekly debate about the ethics of biosynthesis (or some other bollocks leaving that wee tinker Gallagher attempting to woo Judith with a bowl of soup and an offer of an escape route.

All she has to do is stand in the corner and do a little striptease whilst the pig-faced one enjoys a crafty Barclays and she's home free.

Judith, after much deliberation accepts his offer and slowly shows her big black pants.

Admit it, you've done much worse when you've not had your taxi fair, I know I have.

Her leopard super sense tingling added to the noticeable waft of damp yeast eminating from Judith's cage sends Alliana into a shag frenzy (what? again?) and, stopping only to dress up as a Christmas tree she chases after Eric for (sloppy) seconds leaving poor Judith, stripped to her suspender belt and with her newly paid for breasts hanging limply like rocks in a rucksack at the mercy of Gallagher.

It seems that our porcine pal has changed the deal and is already tearing at his trousers with his stinky trotters in anticipation of this little piggy squealing all the way home....

And if this indignity wasn't enough for poor Judith, it appears that Pak has persuaded Moreau (by hitting him repeatedly over the head with a wine bottle) to use her body to repair the damage done to his daughter.

But alas not get rid of the smell of fishpaste that follows her around.

Will Eric have enough energy left to rescue Judith?

Will we actually get to see the oft promised girl on pig action rather than it keep cutting back to two old men arguing?

I'm not telling, I mean I sat thru' the whole fucking travesty so you can too.

Ah Charles Band, boyhood hero to any self respecting cult film fan growing up in the eighties. Amongst the many classics he brought us were lo-budget gems like Trancers, Robot Jocks and Laserblast (my first CB movie, show way back in '78 as a double bill with The Muppet Movie) and his production company gave us From Beyond and Re-Animator to name just a few. 

Which makes it all the more tragic that he's been reduced to churning out hideously average shite like this.

An unofficial (you're kidding me) sequel to the HG Wells classic novel with a budget that can only stretch to three Halloween masks and one actual actor in the cast, House of Pain is hellishly performed by it's minuscule cast of never-beens and wannadies, horribly lit in bright primary colours (imagine a hyper-active child remaking Suspiria and you're a third of the way there) with actors so uniformly unattractive that you begin to start fancying the poor sod in the fish mask by the movies end, just because the quick glimpse you get of her right breast shows that it's the only non-augmented, natural thing in the film.

Fuck, even the brick lined cellar is plastic.

"Laugh now!"

 

But (and there's always a big but - just not on any of the emaciated cast) it turns into a wee bit of a car crash, you just can't turn away or turn off.

Or maybe that was just the amount of cheap sherry I'd necked previously.

I'm just glad it's over if I'm honest.

Tomorrow, something decent.