Tuesday, October 22, 2019

family plot.

The Rise of Skywalker simplified.


cat baloo.

The Pyramid (2014).
Dir: Gregory Levasseur.
Cast:  Ashley Hinshaw, Denis O'Hare, James Buckley, Christa Nicola, Amir K, Faycal Attougui and Philip Shelley.

“This doesn’t look like the Egyptian stuff you find at the British Museum!”



It's August 2013 and those pesky, democracy craving Egyptians are rowdily  rioting in Cairo’s Ramses Square, an historic turning point in Middle Eastern politics.

But fuck that cos there are far more important things afoot out in the desert where the American father/daughter archaeology team of Miles (American Horror Story stalwart O’Hare channelling Harry Dean Stanton) and Nora Holden (council estate Blake Lively, Hinshaw) have just uncovered a new (in the sense of it being hidden, it's not like they hired Bob The Builder to construct it for them - tho' that would make a great movie) pyramid.

Buried beneath the harsh desert sands for over five thousand years (possibly), the team are most excited by the fact that it only has three sides.

Which probably cheered the CGI team up no end too.

Unfortunately there's a chance that they'll never get to explore it seeing as the US government, always wary of being involved in other countries political problems when it doesn't concern them, want the pair out of Egypt as soon as possible save Ben Affleck has to be sent in to rescue them.

Plus it's full of a scary green gas that makes people vomit milk.

Which is nice.

"...And here we see one of Madonna's original bra's!"

Luckily the team are given 24 hours to complete their investigations by their military liaison, the permanently angry Corporal Terry Shadid (Attougui) so Nora persuades her 'love' interest and the teams techie Zahir (the Kafka-esquely named K) to send his borrowed NASA robot into the pyramid for a wee nosey around.

Which would be a great excuse for some spooky found footage style thrills if it weren't so badly handled.

At this point I was a wee bit worried that the entire film would be made up of footage from the robot intercut with reaction shots of the human cast but alas this fairly unique (if horrifying) prospect is soon dashed when the machine is destroyed by some slight - and unconvincing - CGI, leaving Nora, Miles and Zahir, alongside the terrifyingly eyebrowed news-anchor Sunni (Home And Away's Nicola) and her cheeky-chappie British cameraman Fitzie (The Inbetweeners Buckley) no choice that to pack up shop and head back to the relative safety of America.

The end.

Only joking of course, obviously they throw caution (and logic) to the wind and head forth into the pyramid.

Not even industrial gas masks can hide the stench of this script.


Aware of the films meagre running time the group quickly become lost, then after a section of dodgy crazy paving collapses beneath them, trapped in a big hole.

Luckily only token foreign bloke Zahir is injured, pinned to the ground by a huge lump of polystyrene.

Luckier still is the fact that Sunni is not just a top TV type but is, in fact also a trained climber which means that she can climb out of the hole and go for help.

Which as far as logical plans go is pretty good for this movie and it just might of worked had it not been for the pesky cat (a highly trained Egyptian attack cat at that) that destroyed the robot lying in wait to pop out and surprise her, leading to this priceless dialogue exchange:

“There's something up there and it scratched my face! ”

Admit it, it doesn't really chill you to the bone or fill you with dread does it?

After, oooh, minutes of debating they decide to leave Zahir behind and take their chances in a nearby tunnel, only to turn back when they hear the poor sod screaming for help.

They probably shouldn't have bothered seeing as all that's left of the bloke is a jammy smear and a toenail.

There's no time to mourn their fallen comrade tho' as the angry tones of Corporal Shadid are soon echoing around the room which means there must be a way out.

Either that or the director fancies killing off another foreigner before starting on the English speaking cast.


Milk in mah mooth!


Hurrying thru' a narrow tunnel with an army of killer cats in hot pursuit our merry band soon find Shadid, who drags them to the relative safety of yet another chamber before being ignominiously dragged into the tunnel by a thing (or things) unseen/not yet rendered by the films animators.

From this point on it's sand traps and spiked pits ahoy as no Mummy movie cliche is left unburied as our surviving heroes race towards a thrilling (well I say thrilling) climax as the true nature of the pyramid is unveiled.

In part thanks to the mummified remains of a notebook clutching Freemason they just happen to find in a burial chamber.

Obviously he'd been caught painting the sand stone red, white and blue or trying to organise a march thru' the tunnels when he was found by the non- Protestant occupant.

And you'd never guess who that is.



Why it's none other than Jeff Anubis, famed protector of the dead and god of funerals.

It's like Through The Keyhole on smack.

Anyway back to the plot (what there is of it) where it seems that, oh, years ago (2000–1700 BC at least) Jeff's dad/creator Osiris, on account of not suffering from dog breath beat poor Anubis in the annual most important god of the dead competition and leaving him in second place.

Although this didn't come without it's perks and a fancy job title ("Guardian of the Scales"), Anubis soon got bored tearing out folks hearts to see if they could get into heaven and decided to do other stuff instead.

The film/history books don't mention what so I like to imagine him surfing or opening a chip shop, go on, see what funny situations you can imagine Anubis in.

There's a prize for the best.

Anyway the Egyptians, being a leather obsessed and frankly untrustworthy lot decided to build a huge pyramid to imprison him in and leave an army of cats inside to stop him escaping.

As you do.

Now if only they'd thought to write this above the entrance none of this would have happened.

The ancient god Anubis, sniffing someones arse yesterday.


Plus Anubis himself wouldn't have to suffer the indignity of being portrayed as a badly rendered CGI stick man with a dodgy Chuckle Hounds style dogs head clad only in a hula skirt.


Don't you know about Anubis? He'll take you up a hill, beat you up and then he'll bum you! And if he doesn't kill you, you kill yourself because of the shame of you getting a boner whilst you was being bummed!

So will the rapidly dwindling team manage to escape from the clutch of Anubis?

Can you actually clutch if you have paws?

Does Anubis even have paws?

If the cats are frightened of fire, why not just remove their jackets and make torches?

Why trap Anubis in a Labyrinth when they could have just sealed him in and filled the whole structure with sand and suffocate him?

And most importantly why does every film of this ilk have a shitey mock-rock song over the end credits? 





Pity poor Gregory Levasseur, the writer behind the genuinely brilliant Maniac remake (as well as the not too shoddy Hills Have Eyes reboot and the sexy shocker High Tension), with a pedigree like that behind him you'd reckon he'd have been a wee bit more choosey when it came to picking the script  for his directorial debut.

Writers Nick Simon and Daniel Meersand ransack the tombs of both the Egyptian undead and found footage genres with little knowledge or understanding of either in the vain hope that some of it will stick out in a memorable way.

Unfortunately saddled with dialogue along the lines of “We’re just like food in a bowl right now,” the only place it sticks is in the viewers throat, or in the case of the almost schizophrenic 'is it or isn't it?' found footage style, the audience is left to play the who's filming who? game.

Which if I'm honest does add an element of enjoyment from the film that's sadly missing from the (frankly ludicrously nonsensical) plot.


Charlie says practical effects are best.
What scares the movie does attempt are more like old friends than genuine frights being taken as they are from (better) genre movies going back to the 50's and earlier and the sub par CG makes the already vaguely amusing idea of an army of highly trained, god fighting killer cats unintentionally hilarious.

Tho' not as side-splitting as the reveal of Anubis in all his floating about not quite in shot, plasticine faced glory.

Honestly I've seen better CG in an average episode of Numberjacks.

Why the just didn't buy a kiddies dog mask instead I’ll never know but saying that, there is an oh so clever train of thought that says that monster looking this shite are, in fact really clever as we can't and shouldn't judge people and things on their outward appearance.

I mean who's to say that the Egyptian god of the dead wouldn't choose to appear to be made out of kiddies modelling clay and hastily painted in shit?

A better man than me that's for sure.

Nothing special but a fairly harmless way to pass 90 minutes.

Especially this far into 31 days of horror.

But saying that so is shagging your gran and I know which I'd find more satisfying.

Monday, October 21, 2019

out on a limb.

This fell out of a cupboard last night and I realised that I'd only ever watched it once.

Maybe it was fate that I was meant to watch it again.

Or maybe I need to tidy my cupboard.

The Last House in the Woods (AKA Il Bosco Fuori. 2006).
Dir: Gabriele Albanesi.
Cast: Daniela Virgilio, Daniele Grasseti, Gennaro Diana, Santa De Santis and a few other folk who should really know better.

There are some lines that must never be crossed...
beyond them all...
is The Last House in the Woods.


Driving along a deserted country round after attending a waiters lookalike party Geoff Soontodie, his fish-lipped wife Brenda and his ball headed boy child Crispin, confused by the eye searing inconsistencies between the day and night shots on-screen manage to make their rented hatchback screech uncontrollably off the road and career headlong down a muddy bank.

Luckily a handy tree helps stop the car before it gets too damaged.

Which is more than can be said for Geoff's face.

Escaping from the car in an amusing wobbly manner, Brenda and son head back to the road to hopefully flag down a passing motorist.

It doesn't take long before help seems to be at hand when a nice sturdy family style saloon comes a trundling down the road towards the pair.

Thinking that a huge faced, bow tie wearing dwarf may put the driver off helping Brenda pushes Crispin to the side of the road (and into daylight bizarrely enough) just as the car slams into her, spraying her pretty dress with mud and ruining her lipstick.

Obviously trying to help the driver steps out of the car and tries to wipe it up by repeatedly hitting her in the face with a large brick.

Crispin, fearful for his life (and possibly of losing his bum virginity) runs into the woods....

"Paging Mr. Herman!"


Meanwhile back at the plot good and proper, the chisel of chin and lank of hair Aurora (Italian teevee queen Virgilio) is busy drawing funny faces in crayon whilst her on/off (and constantly hen-pecked boyfriend) Rino (Grasseti from Nature: Consuelo...no me neither) takes her up the arse.

And the reason?

He (allegedly) wants to see what great masterpiece she can create in the throes of ecstasy.

And this is why he's banned from working as a classroom assistant.

Rino and his novelty bike stand yesterday.


Within seconds of all the sweaty sex stuff tho the pair have a blazing row before messily (well stickily) splitting up as Aurora storms out of the house.

Rino, being a slave to her snake hips and nice flat tummy, quickly follows and spends the night driving around in his Fiat Uno hoping to find his true love and make amends.

Or at least get a crafty reach around.

Which makes a change from sitting at home indulging in a tearful wank and a Pot Noodle I suppose.

But why did these young lovers part I hear you ask?

Seems that Aurora can't decide if she loves him or not, playing the 'I'm really confused' card whilst still expecting him to drive her around and give in to her sweaty car seat shagging demands.

Exactly like your mum does with your uncle Peter.

"Blood in mah big fishy mooth ya bastard!"


Luckily for him (and the viewers rapidly waning interest) he soon spots his true love in the distance and catches up with her for a heartfelt chat that culminates in the pair deciding to try again.

And by try again I mean head off up the road from the movies beginning for a bit of 'the sex'.

And a wee bit more arguing obviously.

But as the sweaty ex-sweethearts discuss their future (or lack of it) they're interrupted by the arrival of three Hush Puppy wearing, nipple revealing t shirt clad bad boys driving around in a bright pink Fiat hatchback (does the directors dad own a dealership?) looking to partake in a wee bit of fighting and raping.

But not necessarily in that order.

Nicola Bryant, up the casino, 1984.....Yesch!


Beating Rino to a pulp (which to be honest is no show of manliness seeing as a gentle breeze would probably send him flying he's so wet) before locking him in the boot of his car, the three stooges decide to turn their lascivious gaze toward Aurora, pinning her down in the dirt and taking it in turns to gyrate against her thighs and threatening to show her their cocks.

Luckily a nice middle aged (and armed) couple Antonio and Clara (the facially challenged Diana and the sleazily seductive De Santis) drive up and scare the bad lads away, saving us from having to see their (possibly scabby) penises and Aurora from having to touch them.

A win/win situation as far as I'm concerned then.

"Is it a book, film or song?"


As our would-be beast pals run off into the slowly fading light, Antonio and Clara invite Aurora and the by now free but still-unconscious Rino (I for one couldn't tell the difference between him awake or asleep) back to their house for a cup of tea, a quick clean up and a digestive biscuit.

Aurora, being a greedy bitch when it comes to biscuits agrees and they all drive off down a quiet country lane.

Well I say all drive off but it's really only Antonio doing the driving, the others are passengers.

Obviously.

Arriving at the couples secluded mansion things begin to take a sinister turn for the strange as Rino is huddled off into a room by Clara whilst Aurora is sent to sit in the dining room with the smooth talking (if pube haired) Antonio and his clumsy attempts at seduction.

He does manage to get a quick snog tho' so he can't be all that bad.

Either that or Aurora's a manipulative whore.

But alas, we'll never know as the creepy couple are thankfully interrupted when, in one of modern cinemas finest 'Laugh Now' moments Antonio's rat-toothed, bowl headed and jam covered seven year old son enters the room asking for a pair of fresh beef curtains to munch on.

Laugh when?


Being thick as mince Aurora doesn't notice anything at all peculiar about this and only begins to worry (and then only slightly) when Antonio comes at her with a hypodermic needle shouting "I kill you now!"

Trying to escape from her slightly strange host, our heroine runs upstairs where she finds a by now conscious Rino strapped to a chair and being forced to watch Cbeebies with toothy boy and his mum.

Fearing an appearance by Big Cook, Little Cook Aurora jumps out of the window and disappears into the night as the film dissolves into some slow motion flashbacks of ball-boy from the films opening.

Which still make absolutely no sense.

Spooked by the recordings of owl songs plkaying on the soundtrack and frightened by the distant sounds of growling, Aurora hides under a tree till the cameraman's night filter falls off before heading to a burnt out caravan parked by a nearby bush, surely she'll find help there, I mean it's not like you get inbred cannibal type hicks in the backwoods of Italy is it?

Well, yes you do actually.

I know, I was vaguely surprised by this turn of events too.

But not as surprised as Aurora tho' who not only gets her cheeks stroked but gets hit on the head for good measure.

Christmas at Heather Mills house.


Waking back at the house, our lippy loser soon finds that she's strapped to a cheap wicker chair next to an unconscious (yes again) Rino.

Who appears to have lost a few limbs along the way.

Continuity error or food for the spiky toothed cannibal child?

Go on guess.

Screaming and shouting (oh and getting really angry because she's just decided that she loves Rino after all) Aurora is told the terrible tale of Ratty's birth.

Seems the poor boy was born with a perfect set of gnashers and and overwhelming love of man-meat.

Obviously the only solution to the problem was to fortify the house and begin kidnapping anyone who drives down their street.

As a parent I can totally see the logic behind that.

Whilst all this back story is being filled in toothy Tom is bust salivating at the thought of munching out on Aurora's ample thighs and eating her whole.

Tho' I've heard cannibals usually spit that bit out.

I'm sorry but that's not a skirt it's a belt.


Meanwhile our terrible threesome from earlier are driving back from a night of booze, big bands and blow-jobs when their car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. With none of their phones working the boys decide to walk thru' the woods, occasionally stopping to pull action poses and look for a house where they can get help and/or some more sex.

Oh and as the none too bright Ginger adds "We can steal a DVD player too!"

It's not long (or big, or clever) before they begin to hear screams in the distance which Biffa, the lead thug mistakes for the sound of shagging, reckoning if they can follow the sound they can all have sex too.

And they say romance is dead.

"Sorry hen but you've got the wrong last house!"


Still tied to a chair and being forced to watch a fat man with a scabby lip chainsaw her beau's arm off it actually comes as a blessed relief to Aurora when she see's her would-be molesters face peering thru' the window.

To Antonio's family tho' this is one meal-time interruption too far and, after packing little toothy ratkin off to bed the entire clan arm themselves with whatever comes to hand and head out to catch the interlopers and protect the family secret locked away in the cellar....

Will Aurora survive with all her limbs still attached?

Will Robbie Rapist turn good guy or attempt to stick it in her again?

Will we ever find out what the significance of bow tie boy is?

And will Rino manage to get trousers to fit him now?


Same shit, different smell.



Writer, director and non trick pony Gabriele Albanesi after force feeding himself a diet of classic seventies shlockers and eighties splatter has manage to vomit up a mish mash of influences and ideas so bizarre and unrelated as to make a film that's beyond parody, redemption and possibly criticism.

How else can you explain how arse numbingly bad yet at the same time head fuckingly brilliant The Last House in the Woods is?

It's quite honestly the film your twelve year old self never made, a junior school version of Phenomena via The Texas Chainsaw Massacre with an added cameo from Last House On The Left villain Krug's slightly stupider younger brother, slightly less soiled linen and considerably more arse shots.

Is this a good thing? I can't possibly say.

But what I can tell you is that if Amer is the ultimate tribute to the Eurohorror genre then this is the hook handed idiot sibling, cowering and dribbling in the basement whilst constantly masturbating over faded, soiled pictures of Marilyn Burns.

And Pete too probably.

"Sorry, I have my woman's period".



Chock full of bizarrely inappropriate dialogue, full frontal amputations, shocking denim fashions, kiddie friendly cannibalism, chainsaw-wielding inbred hicks and a flagrant disregard for the laws of editing not seen since the heady days of Plan 9, the acting veers wildly between the stiffly Formica (Grasseti I'm looking at you) to ear bleedingly shrilly (Virgilio) with a supporting cast that seems hell bent on hitting every emotional point in between whether we like it or not.

Except for the wee toothy boy that is, who seems to spend the entire film in a dribbly, Prozac fuelled daze.

And who says child abuse can't be entertaining?

But fear not for there is one saving grace in this sea of mediocrity and that's the gorgeously ghoulish Santa De Santis.

Coming over like Daria Nicolodi's slinkier, sleazier little sister with a penchant for sensible A-line skirts, De Santis knows exactly how to play it, giving (the fairly sketchy) role just enough 'arch' as to make it the most memorable performance on show.

And in a film packed to the brim with lump-headed freaks, mutant kids and various ginger folk that's no easy task.

And that's why we love her.

De Santis: Twice.


The Last House in the Woods elicits the same feelings of wrongful passion that you get when gazing at your neighbours daughter or your younger cousin in her Girl Guides uniform, you know it's wrong but you just can't help yourself, sneaking a peek from the corner of your eye whilst adjusting you trousers.

Damning with faint praise or too much information regarding my social life?

You decide, I'm off to dress my youngest in a waiters outfit.

Sunday, October 20, 2019

underground barmey.

I'm back from 'the London' in one piece so reckon to celebrate I'd better post something good for todays 31 days of horror.

You're welcome.

URBEX: Urban Explorer (AKA Urban Explorers, 2011).
Dir: Andy Fetscher.
Cast: Nathalie Kelley, Nick Eversman, Max Riemelt, Catherine de Lean, Brenda Koo and Klaus Stiglmeier.




Enjoying a weekend break in Berlin with his exotic girlfriend Lucia (Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift's Kelley looking for all the world like a dirtier Vanessa Hudgens), swoonsome Denis (Eversman from, gulp Hellraiser: Revelations but don't hold that against him.) decides it'd be a laugh to go exploring in the tunnels and tracks below the city.

Well it beats a traditional German sausage fest I guess.

Hooking up with the hip, Euro-trousered guide Kris (Riemelt from teevee's Schandmal - Der Tote im Berg) as well as the fairly exotic but not as exotic as Lucia, bowl-haired, button nosed bisexual French hottie Marie (Twice a Woman's de Lean) and the totally exotic - well she is from Korea - Juna (teevee stalwart Koo), our below ground buddies are soon armed with torches and ready for the big adventure.

Our heroes exploring the beauty spots of the West Midlands.


Kris' big selling point for our thrill seeking tourists isn't just the chance to smell the shit and chase the rats around Berlin's sewer system but to explore a once top secret Nazi bunker.

A top secret Nazi bunker resplendent with murals depicting hunky Aryan soldiers, milk maids and other such trouser stirring stuff.

It seems that the aforementioned bunker was recently rediscovered before being hastily resealed by the authorities, just in case groups of mad as lorry Neo-Nazi arseholes (and Trump supporters) decide to go visit

Pretty sensible really, seeing as you wouldn't want a load of plaid-clad hood wearing inbreds with no sense of history ruining the tourist spots for everyone else.

Europe has enough of that with the English at the moment.

Beware! The bin men cometh.


As they make their way toward the bunker, dodging dog owning drug dealers and slippery eels, Kris is happy to scare the shite out of the group with tales of the spooky ''Odin People"; a group of pagan worshiping genetic super soldiers (better known historically as The Thule Society) bred to take their place amongst the gods as part of a Nazi space programme.

Unfortunately Germany ended up as runners up in World War II so it was decided that the best option would be to bury these Buck Rogers wannabes underground and hope no-one found them.

Truth my friends?

Or bollocks?

"...What does that graffiti say? something like M. Khan is bent..."


Luckily our group arrive intact and spend the next hour admiring the artwork, drinking tea from tin cups and in Marie and Juna's case having a wee bit of the lesbian sexual shenanigans.

Unfortunately this bit is off-screen.

And not even on the DVD as a deleted scene.

Bah.

Anyway with everyone happy and Kris looking forward to getting paid the merry band of explorers head back to the surface.

Marie tho' being one of those annoying photography types can't help but take a pic of Kris as he's crossing a narrow ledge causing him to fall down a hole, badly bruising his coccyx and tearing his new shirt.

Luckily for Kris (and the plot) Lucia is a nurse meaning that she can stay with Denis and look after our wounded chum whilst Juna and Marie can head back to the surface for help.

Oh yeah, and it conveniently splits the group up therefore doubling their (and our) fright factor.

Nice work Mr. Fetscher.

"Can you smell petrol?" Marie farted and it smelled of shame.


With the girls stumbling around blindly in the dark, Lucia is getting concerned for Kris' health.

If they don't get help soon he may die.

But worse of all the mud stain may not come out of his shirt.

Even at 60 degrees.

Suddenly out of the blue (well out of the tunnels but you know what I mean) comes the hulking form of Jeff Armin (Stiglmeier from Werner Herzog's Invincible), a fish bearded, horse toothed, former border control agent who lives in a converted bunker about ten minutes walk away.

Pulling a stretcher from his back pocket he quickly organises getting Kris back to his humble abode where from he promises to ring the police.

What a nice man.

"So which of you bitches is up for a wee bout of the mooth shite-in ya cheeky bastards?"

Quickly arriving back at Armin's pad, Kris is put to bed and our loved up duo are offered a hot meal where they get to hear all kinds of amusing anecdotes regarding Armin's career, his 'special' training and the fact that he still believes that the divide between East and West Germany exists.

Oh, and the fact that he's a rampant mentalist who may (or may not) have just fed his guests what could be the remains of a few other urban explorers he just happened across earlier.

There's no time to act tho' as suddenly (and without so much as a laugh now) Armin has drugged Denis and thrown him in a cupboard, leaving  Lucia, alone and caked in mud and sweat to be entertained by our toothsome terror.

Will Denis wake up in time to rescue Lucia from Armin's embarrassingly un-PC after dinner chat?

Will Kris get paid?

and where the fuck are Juna and Marie?


What's this?

Another good movie finding it's way into 31 days of horror?

I remember seeing this on release and expecting something forgettably shite (the box does compare it to Creep* which is a bit like a babysitter comparing herself to Kate McCann) so I was pleasantly surprised to find that the multi-talented Fetscher has delivered an intelligently plotted and unnervingly unpredictable little thriller, tightly scripted and brought to life by a top group of likeable and convincing actors.

No really.

They're all smiles now but just wait till the arse banditary starts.

Avoiding the temptation to go for balls to the wall gore, Herr Fetscher carefully builds a feeling of unease and suspense before releasing any violence in short sharp - and realistic - bursts making the movie less a Hostel wannabe (tho' why anything would want to aspire to that is beyond me) and more of an underground Deliverance.



Sexy European girl with a hot mug of tea? Check! Can life get any better?


As opposed to Underground Ernie obviously.















































*Not this one.

Saturday, October 19, 2019

isvand i blodet!

Away in The London today so scheduling my 31 days of horror posts in advance.
So this is from the past, tho' as I post it's for the future.

Spooky biscuits.

As an (interesting) aside this review was originally written for DEAD FUNNY: THE RISE OF THE ZOM-COM so if you enjoy it go buy the book.



Dead Snow (2009).
Dir: Tommy Wirkola.
Cast: Vegar Hoel , Stig Frode Henriksen, Charlotte Frogner, Lasse Valdal

Evy Kasseth Røsten, Jeppe Laursen, Jenny Skavlan, Ane Dahl Torp
Bjørn Sundquist and Ørjan Gamst.


Hello, 9-1-1? We've been attacked by what look like German zombies from the Second World War! And we set our cabin on fire by accident!



It's a calm moonlit Norwegian night in the snow covered woods somewhere in deepest darkest Øksfjord, the only sound being Edvard Grieg's Hall Of The Mountain King playing menacingly in the background.

This (fairly) sinister scene is abruptly broken by the noise of a terrified girl crashing thru' the trees as she attempts to escape from an unseen assailant.

Stopping to get her bearings (and catch her breath) she suddenly attacked and overcome by a group of grey-coated ghouls who proceed to eat her whole.

Tho' I always assumed that they would spit that bit out.


Less Eva Green more Eva Grue.



Cut to a rocking Country and Western tune (who knew Norway had such things?) as we follow two cars full of the oldest (medical) students this side of the Fenn St Gang - queasy Martin (Hoel), his dreadlocked girlfriend Hanna (Pound Shop Eve Green Frogner), snack loving horror fan Erlend (Laursen), identikit chicks Liv and Chris (Hamster-cheeked Røsten and the button nosed Skavlan) and Roy (comedy god Henriksen) as they head off to enjoy an Easter break of sex, snacks and song in a secluded cabin in the woods.

What could possibly go wrong?

Arriving at the cabin they meet up with their pal, the lion-haired, snow-mobile driving Vegard (Valdal) who has been patiently awaiting not only their arrival but that of his girlfriend - and the cabin's owner - Sara (Torp) who has decided to ski to the cabin from West Bromwich or something seeing as she's a sporty type.

As you do.

As is the way when students get together the pals settle down for an evening of booze and banter (I assume this is quite realistic seeing as I've never been invited away for the weekend on account of not having any friends. Ever) until that is a mysterious tramp arrives in order (it seems) to tell them the dark history of the region and start the plot good and proper.

You see, it seems that during World War II, a crack squad of Einsatzgruppe bad boys led by the evil Colonel Barry Herzog rocked up in the local area and spent the next few years abusing and torturing the local populace until, near the end of the war, the villagers decided to extract their revenge.


With Germany's defeat immanent the nasty Nazi's grabbed whatever loot they could and legged it into the woods, the torch bearing townies in hot pursuit.

Bloodshed, burnings and bad man beatings ensued as most of Herzog's squad were butchered.

However Herzog (being a lucky bloke) alongside a few of his troops managed to eluded capture/bumming and escaped into the mountains with the stash of loot where it was assumed that they all froze to death.

Or did they?

And with that (and a quick beer and fag) the tramp leaves to continue whatever snow-based business he was doing beforehand.

Which appears to be setting up camp somewhere in the mountains in order to be attacked - and eaten - by zombies therefore adding to the sense of impending doom.

Boris Johnson tries in vain to find the upside of a no deal Brexit.




As a new day dawns, Vegard - getting more and more concerned heads off on his snowmobile to look for Sara and soon comes across (no, not in that way, minds like sewers you lot) the dismembered tramp/concerned, creepy local guy.

Continuing his search Vegard clumsily falls into a hole landing in a cave knocking himself unconscious.

Yup, I know, I know you think his almost lion-like main of luxurious hair would have cushioned the blow.

As the day wears on and the friends get more and more tipsy, Erlend - looking for cakes discovers an old wooden box filled with jewelry coins and golden trinkets hidden under the floorboards and excitedly begins to rummage thru' it.

The greedy sod probably thinks the coins are chocolate.


Lache Jetzt!

Celebrating their find with even more booze (and pocketing a few of the coins for good measure) it's not long before Erlend's bladder gets the better of him and he heads off to the outside toilet for a wee followed by some furtive bog-based sex with a tipsy Chris before returning to the party leaving Chris to have a poo in peace.

And you say romance is dead.

With the plot points fully covered and the threat explained (plus we're at the halfway point) it'll come as no surprise to tell you that that the things in the woods are, in fact, the undead remains of Herzog's squad - out for revenge on anyone brave or silly enough to try to steal their gold.

Imagine a really right wing (and considerably better dressed) version of the Lucky Charms cereal leprechaun and you're halfway there.

And just in case you hadn't managed to work all that out yet we cut back to Vergard who, upon awakening finds himself in a candlelit cave chock full of gold, guns and Nazi memorabilia - as well as his girlfriends severed head.

Which is unexpected (to him) but to me, if I'm honest, is scarily reminiscent of my granddad's spare bedroom.

Oh how I miss the holidays of my youth.

"Fuck me Jamie....a wasp!"




Stalked (and slashed) on the shitter by the sinister soldiers, Chris is the first to die as the undead Nazi horde lay siege to the cabin, quickly killing Erlend (who it has to be said is the biggest target) as he and his friends attempt to secure the building using a collection of Ikea shelves and empty beer cans.

Meanwhile Vegard has been discovered and is currently busying himself poking zombies in the eyes with a penknife as the evil creatures edge him closer and closer to a cliff face.

It never rains.

Bitten on the neck by one of the zombie he stumbles back over the cliff edge but is saved when he grabs on to an unraveled undead intestine he'd managed to cut out of its owner earlier.

And no, I didn't see that coming.

Climbing back up the sticky stomach rope he quickly stitches his neck up before attaching a handy machine gun to his snowmobile and heads back to help his friends who, by this point have decided it'd probably be best to split up so to this aim Martin and Roy attempt to distract the zombies whilst Hanna and Liv run for the cars and look for help.

Hmmm...I can't this this plan failing in any way.

As the boys bang pots and pans whilst singing loudly the girls head out into the snowy covered woods but are soon attacked leaving Liv unconscious and Hanna stuck under a mini-avalanche with just a zombie for company.

All this snow-based kerfuffle wakes Liv from her slumber just in time to see a group of zombies messily pulling out her intestines and realising that her chances of ever getting a decent pair of dungarees to fit again uses her last vestige of strength to pull the pin from a grenade on one of the undead's belt causing a massive explosion that gives Hanna the boost she needs to drop kick her undead assailant.

Whilst all this has been going down Martin and Roy have managed to set fire to the cabin with shoddily made Molotov cocktails leaving them no choice but to lock themselves in the tool shed, which as it happens is a pretty smart move seeing as it's choc full of chainsaws, hammers and the like.

Groovy.

Undead Nazi in mah mooth!


As Vegard joins them the scene is set for a final battle against Herzog and his undead platoon but as they attack Martin begins to realise the real reason behind the onslaught....





The second film from the dream team of Tommy Wirkola and Stig Frode Henriksen (who later went on to give us the sublime Hellfjord) Dead Snow comes across like a horror retelling of Withnail And I ("We set our cabin on fire by accident!") and is one of those rare horror comedies that plays everything absolutely straight and is all the better for it.

True it may not be the most original plot in the world but it more than makes up for it with sheer chutzpah and an infectious sense of fun that puts most (if not all) big budget horror comedies to shame.

Perfectly pitched and tautly directed Dead Snow is scary and silly in equal measures and probably the most entertaining thing to come out of Norway since Vicky Vette.

Tho' much as I love him I can't imagine too many folk paying to see Stig doing a saucy webcam show.

Friday, October 18, 2019

slime time.

As ever, preparing for a weekend away whilst continuing the whole 31 days of horror thing and have hit the point where - knowing that no fucker actually reads this blog - I'm just pulling random shite from the cupboard and hoping for the best.

Bacterium (2006).
Dir: Brett Piper.
Cast: Alison Whitney, Benjamin Kanes, Miya Sagara, Chuck McMahon, Andrew Kranz, Shelley Dague and Jessica Day.


Invade, Infect, Mutate, Devour.
Then shite in mah mooth.
Obviously.



There's nothing like opening your movie with an exciting chase scene - especially when your mate owns not only a model helicopter but also his own painting and decorating business, so it's with this in mind that the first thing we see is two guys in big white paper overalls giving - airborne - chase to The Incredible Melting Man's less attractive brother before he explodes for some reason whilst hiding in a toy barn.

Tho' not Al's Toy Barn which is disappointing.

Obviously the explosion happens off screen of course.
Scarpering before the parkie turns up, the bio-suit boys decide to cross their fingers and hope the scary green vial that the melting man was carrying was destroyed, rather than actually land and go check for themselves.

It seems that secret government agencies just can't get the staff these days.

Or a realistic model park made to land the toy helicopter in.

Meanwhile in the local woods, the films plot begins good and proper with two young couples enjoying a friendly game of paintball.

No me neither.

Taking a break from covering each other in splatty sticky stuff, Lemon sucking bad boy Ryan Jiggs (Kanes - not the Rob Lowe character from Wayne's World, I think) and the bucktoothed blonde beauty, Beth (Alison Whitney, star of Splatter Beach and not, I repeat not Alison Brie whose photo someone had inadvertently posted on the cast list for this film on a dodgy Russian peer to peer site and which I've reposted here just because she's fairly yummy) happen across a seemingly deserted house and, reckoning that their other halves may be hiding inside (why? are they twelve?) decide to take a look around.

Almost immediately the come across mad as a bag of spanners Dr. Boskovic (McMahon, survivor of the car crash that was Vampire Lesbian Kickboxers), desperately trying to find a cure for the aforementioned melty man green stuff from the movies opening sequence.


Brie - not Larson and not in this film. Pity.





Surprised to see a couple of young folk wandering around his house he quickly informs them that the place is surrounded by heavily armed black ops types with orders to shoot at anyone or anything that moves and that the safest thing to do would be for Beth to strip naked whilst he gasses her.

For her own protection of course.


"Are you the farmer?"



Unfortunately things go a wee bit pear shaped almost immediately after Beth uncovers her breasts as Boskovic - excited at seeing a naked lady in real-life has a nasty accident involving a toothbrush and a cheese grater, becoming infected by the grren goo he's tried so hard to find a vaccine for himself and it's not long before he too is shite-ing emerald slime from his mooth and pissing snot by the bucketful.

Meanwhile Brook (Sagara, possibly not the one that used to be on the Real Estate Board of New York) and soon to die Chandler (Kranz, definitely not Matthew Perry) have also found the house, meaning it's up to our four chums to stop the rapidly spreading alien gunk beasts without getting diced in the crossfire.

Just to add a wee bit more excitement to the plot, the fairly frisky general in charge of guarding/shooting up the house has decided that the only way to stop the creatures from infecting the earth is to explode a black hole bomb in the infected area.

Nope, nothing could possibly go wrong with that plan.

No sir.

Let's just hope some angry bikers don't turn up too.



I wouldn't want that swimming up my arse.



Ah, Brett Piper, the gossamer winged savior of the trash movie genre is at his best with this terrifying tale of slimy snotters hell bent on if not world domination the a cheeky pinch of a ladies arse.

I love this man and not just because he once made a nice comment on this very blog when I wrote about his movie Dying Day - a film that formed the basis to the terrific Raiders Of The Living Dead.

Chock full of crappy CG-ed effects, big bogie monsters and a bit of totally gratuitous nudity for good measure, his cast of non actors struggle game-fully to deliver pages of schlocky dialogue as a man in a painted binbag does his best to look threatening whilst pretending to scoff a pile of joke shop bones ALA the creatures from that 1966 Peter Cushing classic Island of Terror.

 (well, I say classic but I really mean not bad....well, I say not bad...).



The creature, feeling guilty for all the bad murders, attempts to give Shelley Daguea pearl necklace as a peace offering.


Quality bits to savour include Beth's boyfriend getting killed but no-one noticing, the already mentioned nude gassing and the dolls house under attack whilst a big green nose goblin throws action men at it.





"Hello it's the blind man!"




And remember kids, there is an important environmental message in the movie which by default makes it worthy of praise.

I must be getting soft in my old age because I think it's genius.


Still not you.

Thursday, October 17, 2019

playaway.

It's been a helluvah week here what with all three of the unholy trio on school holidays and me desperately trying to keep my autie-ness in check whilst I plan a trip to London.

Luckily I have the whole 31 days of horror thing to keep me sane.

Or at least I would if I could be bothered.

You're welcome.

The Devil's Plaything (AKA Veil of Blood, Das Schloss der schwarzen Hexen, Den pornografiske jungfrun, Plaything of the Devil, The Curse of the Black Sisters, Vampire Ecstasy and probably dozens more. 1973)
Dir: Joseph W. Sarno.
Cast: Marie Forså, Nadia Henkowa, Anke Syring, Ulrike Butz, Nico Wolf, Flavia Keyt, Irina Kant and a few other folk with even higher Scrabble scoring names.



“The hour of the wampire draws closer.”



Opening - as all good Eurohorror does - with shots of a shadowy and  foreboding castle somewhere in deepest darkest Europe (I'm thinking Germany by the size of the lady gardens on show) and to the trippy sounds of a conga beat to boot, we find ourselves privy to a groovy girls night-in being held in a cosy dungeon where a busty bevy of wobbly arsed women are undulating sexily - in a kind of mums night out way - to the tribal rhythms.

Leading the festivities is a big of hip, poppy of eyes and scarily simian faced woman named Wanda (Henkowa from the classic Bibi: Confessions of Sweet Sixteen and the not so classic Baby Tramp) whose idea of a good time seems to involve aggressively touching up women and shoving her ample arse into the camera at any given opportunity.

Fair enough.

The party reaches it's climax with the announcement of the evenings raffle draw and after yanking the winning ticket from between a black lasses buttocks, Wanda fetches the winner (a dirty - in both senses of the word - blonde named Brenda) and lays her on the dining table before forcing her to masturbate herself silly with a big black dildo.

And all this before the opening titles.

I've no idea how they're going to top that but with the introduction of  the council estate Marlene Dietrich-alike Monika (the yumsome Butz, star of Love in 3D and What Schoolgirls Don't Tell) you can kinda guess where they're heading.

And it's not toward a no deal Brexit.

"Excuse me, I farted."



Wouldn't you know it but it turns out that this gorgeous (I use that word cautiously) pair are descendants of a lusty lesbian vampire cum posh bird Danielle Varga and our sexy strumpets are in line to inherit all her wealth.

Kerching.

But in order to collect their inheritance Helga and Monika must live in Varga’s spooky castle for a year, thus giving wicked Wanda plenty of time to seduce Monika and complete her plan of placing the revived spirit of Danielle Vaga inside the poor girls body.

What could possibly go wrong?

Well apart from Monika being completely straight and there being absolutely no hot girl on girl action in the next ninety minutes?

Yeah right.



"Is it in yet?"




Before we get a chance to think on this further, a battered old jalopy breaks down right outside the castles gates, I mean come on what are the chances of that?

Turns out that the car belongs to the local doctor (and expert in supernatural activities) Julia Malenkow (big haired Syring from Sexy Susan Sins Again) and her hunkily funky sideburned brother Peter (Confessions of a Sexy Photographer star and ex-Gladiator - possibly - Wolf) who decide, after a wee bit of uncomfortable flirting, to see if the castle has a phone that they can use.

Upon opening the door Wanda, now wearing a harsh school ma'am bun and a centre parting that looks like it's been burnt into her skull thereby revealing even more of her frightening monkey face introduces herself as the castles 'housekeeper' and invites the siblings inside to meet the house-mates and enjoy a nice bit of tea and toast.

Yum.

However, behind the smile (well grimace) Wanda is worried as to the real reason that a doctor of spookiness has turned up at the castle at the moment she's about to put her lesbian resurrection plan into operation so during supper she subtly asks Julia if she's just on holiday or if she's visiting because she think there's a bit of kinky vampirism afoot?

Julia, scoffing another Mini-Roll responds (rather enigmatically) by saying “I'm here to study the superstitious beliefs of the villagers.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow before deciding that Julia actually isn't too bad looking and she might enjoy a wee bit of the Sapphic action too.

A sly wink from Wanda is all that's needed for the local lesbian vampire coven (remember the pre-credits?) to begin seducing the house guests via the medium of modern dance and vaguely rude sounding German phrases.



"Juliet Bravo!"




As the disco seduction continues and the guests become much sweatier and much much more husky, Wanda's powers of persuasion become stronger.

But not strong enough to seduce Julia.

Tho' she has started to rub her brothers inner thigh whilst licking her lips, which is nice.

By this time our heroine has begun to notice something is amiss - the fact that everyone else has begun mounting candlesticks and anything remotely cock shaped was probably enough to give her cause for concern - and takes the precaution of hanging a huge necklace of garlic around her brothers big thick neck before taking to stalking the castle grounds waving a crucifix around like some harsh faced middle-aged Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

On crack.


Less Buffy The Vampire Slayer more Buffet The Snack Destroyer.




Will Julia be able to resist her brother's yummy manliness?

Will Wanda's plan succeed?

Will the all girl vampire dance troupe decide to enter Britain's Got Talent?

Will Monika fix her make-up?

And more importantly will anyone watching actually stop getting the blonde bucktoothed bimbette Helga (Forså, whose performance as Lajla the girl in aquarium in the smash hit Sex in Sweden is still talked about in hushed tones on the internet to this day) and Julia mixed up?

Seriously I only re-watched this last night and am still getting them confused.






From the mind of 60's sex-ploitation legend Joseph Sarno, The Devil's Plaything takes the vampire genre by the scruff of it's neck whilst tugging hard on it's genitalia to produce a warm and sticky mix of sex, horror, more sex and dancing.

The more appropriate title of Vampire Ecstasy suits the movie's tone better tho' given the distinct lack of neck biting on show, replacing as it does the usual vampire bloodlust with an ability to control their victims minds via the power of pure sexual arousal.

And copious amounts of front bums.


She'll catch her death going out like that.




Which shouldn't come as any real surprise seeing as the movie is really just one big lesbian porn film masquerading as a horror flick so as to not embarrass the producers parents.

This doesn't mean that the film isn't fairly enjoyable - and sometimes even for the reasons the makers intended - but let's be honest, it's heady mix of obligatory stilted dialogue, none too subtle phallic imagery and desperate attempt to appeal to both the art and porn crowd is more likely to raise more giggles than erections.

Tho' scarily there are a group of chin stroking movie critiquing no-hopers that harp on about how similar (and in some ways much more successful) Joseph W. Sarno's masterpiece is when compared to the works of Ingmar Bergman.

It's true, I've met some of them.

And yes before you ask, none of them have girlfriends.


Monica hadn't really gotten the hang of YMCA.



Sweaty, sleazy and a wee bit queasy, The Devil's Plaything comes across as a better made, (slightly) bigger budgeted version of any Jean Rollin movie you care to choose but populated by far less attractive actresses wearing the type of nightmarish Bri-Nylon fashions that even your Gran wouldn't be seen dead in.

Damning with faint praise?

Well it is what I do best.