Monday, August 20, 2018

devil nae care.

The laydees are away to see Hotel Transylvania 3 (and to be honest I'm a wee bit mifted because reasons) but it does mean that I get to pick a movie to watch this afternoon.

Or at least the Cassman does.

The Devil's Nightmare (AKA La plus longue nuit du diable, La terrificante notte del demonio, The Devil Walks at Midnight, Vampire Playgirls (yes, really) - 1971).
Dir: Jean Brismée.
Cast: Erika Blanc, Jean Servais, Jacques Monseau, Ivana Novak, Lorenzo Terzon
Shirley Corrigan, Colette Emmanuelle (not this one), Christian Maillet, Christian Maillet, Lucien Raimbourg, Lucienne Bogaert and Daniel Emilfork.

Can You Be Possessed By The Devil?- Does the Pope shit in the woods?

We begin our tale in Berlin at the arse end of World War II, where nifty Nazi Baron Barry von Rhoneberg (Belgian superstar and creator of The Office,  Servais) is busying himself polishing his medals as he awaits the birth of his child as the sound of allied bombings echo around him.

Yup the sound quality is that bad.

Luckily tho' the whole thing is sepia toned as to better match with the stock footage of the aforementioned bombings.

Or it would if that footage wasn't scratched to fuck and dipped in treacle.

Anyway, as is the way in such films Von Rhoneberg’s (very) young wife unfortunately dies giving birth (I mean unfortunately as she's in the film long enough to have it on her resume) to a healthy baby girl, which seems to upset the baron no end.

Well I assume he's upset (to be honest he looks like he has trapped wind) because on hearing the news he ushers everyone out of the room before taking the bairn down to the basement and stabbing it to death with his bayonet.

Fair enough.

"Finally! A bottle of pure, unfettered Autism!"

Cue Crayola credits and a (quantum) leap forward in time to the present day where ace reporter Brenda Snatch is busy bugging von Rhoneberg for an interview regarding his home and its history, but the baron just wants to be left alone and grumpily sends the reporter packing with order to  - under any circumstances - never ever take any photos of his overgrown garden.

Sounds legit.

Obviously the reporter pays absolutely fuck all attention to this and snaps away with gay abandon as she's leaving which means that because she's concentrating so much on getting a 'good shot' (which is the actual technical term - I checked) that she totally fails to notice the huge 'something' that appears via a handy wind machine and kills her.

To death.

Later that day one of the locals comes across her body (well it is still warm) on his way back from a fishing trip remarking that it looks as if the poor woman had died of fright - as opposed to death by binman bumming as usual I guess.

The only unexplainable thing is the odd burn mark on her left wrist.

 Well that and the fact of her fashion choices.

Meanwhile across town a tour bus driver by a sweaty fat man named Matt (Maillet from your dad's favourite film Take Me, I'm Old Enough) full of the kind of folk you only find in EuroHorror movies - a grumpy old bloke in plaid trousers named Mason (human testicle Raimbourg), a hunky young priest named Alvin (Monseau), the constantly bitching husband and wife Howard (Lady Frankenstein’s  Terzon) and Nancy (Belgium's answer to Jill Gascoine - Emmanuelle), close 'friends' raunchy Regine (Corrigan from Dr. Jekyll and the Werewolf) and kinky Corinne (Novak) - are having a terrible time trying to get to the ferry that will take them to their destination, the holiday resort of Spent that's just on the border.


To be honest I wasn't paying attention as I was more interested in figuring out if this was the same tour company from La Orgia Nocturna de los Vampiros before imaging an entire Eurotrash bus-based series.

The road is blocked and there are no toilets for miles which is causing everyone to become a wee bit edgy - as in they're getting upset, not that anyone is getting piercings or tattoo's - luckily out of the blue a totally not at all sinister local in a skin tight mime outfit and huge white gloves appears with an offer of help.

The stranger (Emilfork the ferret-fanged star of City of The Lost Children amongst other things) informs the driver that they might as well head over to the Baron's castle and ask if they can stay overnight because they've missed the last ferry and there wont be another till morning.

By the look of his outfit I was half expecting him to pull a Mickey Mouse mask on as the drove away.

Pulling up outside the castle the party are met by von Rhoneberg has his butler, Hans (who no doubt shot first) — who welcome them with open arms, explaining that a mysterious woman rang to explain the situation and that everyone's rooms are prepared and supper is in the oven.

Which is nice.

That's your dad that is.

As Hans shows everyone to their quarters, he regales the group with the terrifying tale of horror that have taken place in each of the rooms: exorcisms, violent bummings, murders and bizarre accidents that don't appear to put any of the guests off staying in the slightest.

Which means that they're either made of stern stuff or that Hans is really shite at telling stories.

a wee bit like Rian Johnson.
With the guests settled and an hour to kill before supper there's just enough time for Corinne and Regine to indulge in some saucy (yet cringingly uncomfortable)  lescapades before joining everyone in the dining hall for food, wine and excited chat.

Just as the group are about to tuck into a bowl of Angel Delight the meal is interrupted by the doorbell and Hans goes to investigate* and finds a lone traveler named Lisa (Ginger haired Goddess Blanc from The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave) begging to be allowed to stay the night.


Upon encountering our redheaded raver, Mavis the maid (Bogaert, whom readers will no doubt recognise from Les dames du Bois de Boulogne) does her damnedest to turn her away by telling her that there are no free rooms, but Hans (who has obviously read the script) helpfully points out that the box room where the baron stashes his porn has an inflatable mattress in it - and a bicycle pump to inflate it with.


Stopping only for a quick shit and to touch up her eyeliner Lisa enters the dining room just as Lita comes to dinner just as the baron is helpfully explaining that an ancestor of his made a pact with the devil and according to legend each firstborn daughter of the von Rhoneberg family is cursed to become a succubus - a female demon who uses her charms to steal mens souls and send them into a life of torment.

So, basically just a normal woman then.

The guests laugh politely at the tale and head off to bed, particularly relieved that not only does the baron not have a daughter but by the fact that the whole story sounds like utter bollocks.

You can tell where this is going can't you?

As the party prepare for a good nights sleep, Matt has other ideas and heads down to the kitchen for some (more) food but is surprised to find Lisa already there and slaving over a hot stove preparing a sumptuous feast for him.

Being a greedy bastard Matt scoffs the lot but whilst washing it down with a small glass of wine chokes to death as a now hideously transformed (well they shaved her eyebrows) Lisa gazes at him giggling.

Put it in me!

As the night goes on each of the party will fall foul to their hedonistic desires as Lisa offs each and every one of them like some proto-Seven serial killer -  Nancy, being a wee bit greedy drowns in a pit of powdered gold, Howard and Corrine are beheaded and spiked respectively in a post-coital tryst, Regine is bitten by a snake as she sleeps (they were kinda struggling for 7 deadly sin murders by this point methinks as I'm sure loudly snoring isn't an actual sin) whilst poor old Mr Mason is thrown out of a window.

Due to the sin of wearing hideously high waisted nipple warming trousers obviously.

As dawn breaks only Alvin is left, seemingly immune to Lisa's ample charms (yes I mean breasts), spurning her advances toward him whilst fingering his crucifix and chatting about God.

Each to there own I guess.

"Are you the blind man?"

Bored with all this religious chat the devil himself soon makes an appearance and wouldn't you know it, it's the spooky guy who gave them directions to the castle in the first place, it appears he's just decided to turn up for a bit of a gloat but Alvin sees an opportunity to save the poor passengers who have died, offering as he does his own soul in exchange for theirs.

And why would the devil accept such an offer?

Well Alvin explains that by taking him it means one less priest to do God's work and save folk from sin.

Plus I reckon it'd keep a fair amount of kids safe from another fiddling father too so it's win/win really.

The devil agrees and the next morning, Alvin awakes to find that the bus passengers are all still alive and the entire event appears to have been a dream.

Thinking nothing of it he heads down to join the others for breakfast before they depart but as they're buttering the toast the baron - who is indulging in an early morning fencing bout with Hans (as you do) - is mortally wounded and Alvin rushes to his aid, offering to stay with him as they wait for an ambulance.

As the party head to the bus the Baron confesses that he did indeed have a daughter but killed her in her cradle but as he tells the terrible tale Mavis appears and beckons Alvin over for she too has something to tell the priest.

It seems that the child the baron killed wouldn't have actually become a succubus as Lisa was actually the eldest von Rhoneberg daughter, born from an affair she had with the Baron's brother, Rudolph.

It's like an entire year of Eastenders squeezed into 10 minutes.

But with better teeth obviously.

"I'm sorry....I have my woman's period!"

Alvin thinks the old woman is talking bollocks and comforts Lisa as the passengers board the bus and drive away.

But the calm is short lived as suddenly the bus is forced to swerve in order dodge a rag and bone cart - driven by the devil no less - before plunging of a cliff and bursting into flames, killing all aboard.

As Alvin watches in horror (or it may be constipation) Lisa and the devil (that'd make a great film title by the way) share a smile, happy in the knowledge that  they have claimed everyone's souls.

Yup, even yours just for watching the film.

The only feature from Belgian director Jean Brismée, The Devil's Nightmare delivers everything you'd expect from an early 70s EuroHorror - from closed mouth, uncomfortable lesbianism to clenched arsed uncomfortable acting (especially from Jacques Monseau when Lisa attempts to seduce him, honestly I felt like giving the poor sod a hug) the film drunkenly veers from gothic chiller to dribbly food porn to discourse on faith and religion without skipping a beat as it throws in (and up) everything from rudimentary gore, hideous brown underwear and outrageous fashions along the way and all set to one of those throaty vocal scores you only find in late 70s European horror films.

Honestly it's a veritable check list of clinches that nevertheless is as entertaining as it is sometimes terrifically tacky.

Plus Erika Blanc's tummy is quite nice.

I don't know what's more repulsive....the wallpaper or the underwear

Mad, bad and down right dangerous to know, it's Blanc's luscious Lisa the Succubus teaser that holds the whole film together, at once flirty and dirty  yet sweet and naive, all big eyes and even bigger hair she makes even the most outrageous costumes and even more outrageous posturing seem natural and demure whilst exuding a sense of sexual menace I've not encounter since being stuck in a cupboard with my  old scoutmaster as a boy.

I'll be honest even if the rest of the film was utter pants (which luckily it isn't) it'd be worth watching just for her.


Just don't get too excited and accidentally purchase/watch the poverty row 2012 remake by Shlock Meister David Zagorski instead tho' as it's utter pants.

But saying that steampunk superstar cum director (and part-time) drummer Seregon O'Dasseyin looks very pretty in Lisa role.

And she does wear a terrific blouse.


* Obviously I mean answer it as he really doesn't need to investigate the bell as he's heard it before.

Saturday, August 18, 2018

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 79).

British BBC journalist and presenter Fiona Susannah Grace "Fi" Glover.


Friday, August 17, 2018

eating out.

OK last cannibal caper for now.

I promise.

Emanuelle E Gli Ultimi Cannibali (AKA Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals, Emanuelle's Amazon Adventure, Trap Them and Kill Them, Emanuelle Chez Les Cannibales 1977)
Dir: Joe D'Amato (who else?)
Cast: Laura Gemser, Donald O’Brien, Monica Zanchi, Susan Scott, Gabrielle Tinti, Geoffrey Copleston, Annamaria Clementi, Nieves Navarro, Percy Hogan, some cannibals.

Saucy sex minx Emanuelle (D'Amato regular Laura Gemser) has momentarily given up whoring for a living and is currently residing in New York, making her cash as an ace newspaper reporter famed for getting to the heart of gritty 'human interest' stories.

And her current assignment?

To expose an evil lesbian nurse.

But frankly is there any other kind?

Posing as a mentalist she enters (phnar) the hospital with plans to get her story by any means necessary, which in Emanuelle's case involves sneaking into patients rooms in the dead of night and masturbating the information out various incarcerated loons.

Whilst all the time carrying a doll with a camera hidden in its eyes.

I'll have to check with a journalist friend, but I'm pretty sure that isn't common practice but if it is the Piers Morgan/Donald Trump interview just got even more sinister.

The best performance in the whole movie.

After a night of finger-based fun, Emanuelle is surprised to see the nasty nurse she's supposed to be pursuing stumbling drunkenly from a patients room covered in blood from a bite wound on her chest.

Obviously there's only one course of action open to our heroine if she wants to find out what's happened.

That's right, she enters the room and gets right back into fiddling.

Whilst goosing the information out of the mad cannibal woman Emanuelle notices a strange (re: shite) tattoo hastily scrawled on the loopy ladies tummy and - using her free hand - gets a picture of it before legging it out of the asylum and heading straight over to her editors office.

Her editor is amazed, explaining to her (and us) that this tattoo proves the existence of a supposedly extinct stone-age cannibal tribe in the Amazon.

Who'd of thought it?

Well who apart from the obviously drunk screenwriter obviously.

Intrigued by the thought of a gang of flesh eaters running an online shopping company Emanuelle decides to visit her old anthropologist buddie Dr. Mark (not the star of Oliver!) Lester (the exploitation genres very own George Clooney, Tinti), who tells her that the symbol belongs to one of the world’s last practising cannibal tribes, tho' you'd think that they'd be pretty good at it by now.

Thanking him for useful history lesson with a quick bout of the sex, Emanuelle persuades Lester to lead an expedition to the Amazon to find the tribe.

"More bass!"

In no time at all, Lester and Emanuelle arrive in South America, first stopping off to visit an old colleague of his, Professor Wilkes (Copleston from almost every movie ever made) to get supplies - oh and have sex - (but not with the old bloke obviously) before being joined on their quest by the old man's daughter Isabel (top teen tempting tottie Zanchi) and a random, tho' fairly sexy nun (Clementi). 

"Hello? Are you the blind man?"

Fuelled (and fucked) up, our frisky foursome head off into the jungle (in reality D'amato's local garden centre) for an appointment with a mightily manbreasted missionary called Father Rick Morales, an expert on cannibals as well as God.

Which is nice.

Obviously with such a hazardous and long journey ahead of them, Emanuelle decides that it'd be best to stop every few miles for (even more) sex.

Obviously with our luscious leading lady being a modern equal opportunities type, she makes sure that everyone gets to join in, flitting - and fondling - between the hunky Lester and the eager to learn Isabel. 

And it's during one of the movies many muff-fests that Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals' - or perhaps the whole of cinemas - greatest scene unfolds; the two ladies, whilst having a quick wash in a pond, begin fondling each other (in clinical close-up) whilst a chimpanzee sits watching them from the riverbank.

And all to a sexy jazz (mag) score.

If that  wasn't enough to cement D'Amato's place as a cinematic God tho' he pulls out all the stops by dressing the chimp in a pair of big sunglasses and forcing it to smoke a fag.

Genius on celluloid.

And before you write I, yes I am aware - as I'm sure dear Joe was, that Chimpanzees are African, not South American animals so there's probably a good reason for him being there.

Who knows there's bound to be a cut scene explaining that he was the planes co-pilot or something.


Just be grateful that Gemser doesn't try to have sex with it.

"Aye son!"

Bored with monkey - and master - baiting the pair soon come across (snigger) hardened adventurer Don MacKenzie (Dr. Butcher MD himself, Donald O’Brien) his Rula Lenska-like, big black cock obsessed wife Maggie (Navarro) and his 'handyman' (and owner of an aforementioned big black cock) Salvador Daley.

It appears that the trio are determined to find the wreckage of a plane that went down (oooeeerr) in the jungle with a fortune in diamonds on board.

Unfortunately they have bad news concerning Morales mission; the Father is missing presumed lunch and all of the nuns have been massacred by cannibals.
Obviously no-one takes this news well and they all end up having a lot of sex in order to boost morale.

Except MacKenzie who goes to sleep.

Emanuelle struggles with a huge
(non trouser) snake. For a change.

Shagging their way across the Amazon basin for what seems like eternity, it's a blessed relief when the group are finally attacked by 'cannibals' (played with conviction by a dozen or so out of work Brazilian bin men in Beatles wigs) who, just to show how savage they really are steal Lester’s boat, most of the party’s supplies (including the cheese and onion flavoured condoms and KY jelly) and kidnap the pretty (non shagging) Nun.

Being nappy wearing primitive types tho' they have absolutely no idea what to do with her so end up tying the poor cow to a tree before stripping her naked and eating her whole.

No they don't spit that bit out.

It'll come as no surprise to find that everyone is a wee bit upset - oooh for literally minutes afterwards - by this but quickly cheer up when Don's aeroplane (with its cargo of diamonds) is found.

Celebratory sex all round then?

"Now this is podracing!"

Wouldn't you know it tho' but just as the frantic fucking is about to get interesting those kooky cannibals pop out from behind a bush and snatch Maggie.

Which is possibly much more painful than it sounds.
Lester being the hunky hero type - and the only male member of the party who hasn't stuck it in her yet - hatches a plan to save her.

In any other movie this would be a great idea and possibly lead to an Indiana Jones style climactic chase.

With more bellends obviously.

But alas this film was co-written by Romano (Zombie Holocaust) Scandariato, so this daring rescue attempt consists of Lester and Co. sneaking into the cannibal village disguised as wolves or something, sneaking up behind the cannibal chief and shouting 'look up there! it's Fred Titmus!' before grabbing Maggie and running back into the jungle.
I'm afraid to say - but not at all surprised - that it doesn't work.

Sex machine Salvador is quickly killed whilst Donald and Isabel taken captive leaving Lester limping about with a petted lip whilst Emanuelle sits around with the look of a woman who can't remember if she left the gas on.

Our heroines problems are of little consequence to poor Don tho' who suffers the indignity of being tied to a tree before being cut in half and forced to watch as his legs, arse and cock are scoffed by the greedy tribesmen which leaves him for all the world looking like a bizarro hand puppet.

Or it would if the whole shoddy effect wasn't achieved by Sellotaping a photocopy of the actor to a couple of rose bushes and quickly tearing it in half.

Meanwhile Isabel, being the first ginger the tribe have ever seen, has an even more convoluted fate awaiting her because being drugged, stripped naked and gang banged by the entire tribe is exploitative enough so to top it off the terrifying tree dwellers are planning to sacrifice the poor girl to their river goddess.

The official Ronco Douglas Bader
Washing Line: available now!

Have no fear tho' for it's Emanuelle's turn plan a rescue attempt and this one's a corker.

She quickly removes all her clothes before getting Lester to daub the tribe’s emblem on her belly (luckily she has a face painting kit with her).

Luckily Lester's a dab hand with a brush and before too long Emanuelle is made up to look the  spitting image of the aforementioned river goddess.

Now tell me in all seriousness that you saw that coming.


Will Emanuelle be able to rescue Isabel in time?

Will they escape the tribes wrath?

And more importantly will they be able to fit any more shagging into the last 10 minutes of the movie?

G on, guess.

"Look at me Emanuelle...I'm from Dudley!"

All hail the late, great Joe D'Amato as he spews forth another of his trademark ugly people having sex mixed with hard core gore 'epics' and again falls down the scary thematic thigh gap between the two genres.
It's not all bad tho', lovely Laura Gemser is always watchable and at least she can act, plus the amazing Monica Zanchi is far more attractive than the majority of D'Amato's female cast; all ginger locks, freckles and wide eyed innocence, looking for all the world like a cutesy librarian dropped naked into a cesspool of cannibal kinkiness.

Which is quite frankly the best description of a perfect woman as you'll ever find.

Damn you D'Amato springing Zanchi onto me as an innocent, horror loving teen.

I mean between her and Nastassja Kinski in Cat People is it any wonder it took me nearly so long to find a girlfriend who lived up to such perfection?

As an aside I should point out that apart from being absolutely beautiful and a damn fine actress to boot Zanchi also performs the second best masturbation scene ever committed to celluloid in this very movie.
The best being Harvey Keitel's car window Nat West in The Bad Lieutenant obviously.

To be honest if you're in any way a serious film fan then Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals is worth viewing just for that scene alone because let's be honest, you're not watching it for the plot and realistic effects are you?

Well I am but that's to be expected.

Zanchi: I love her.

 And whilst it never manages to scale the dizzyingly daft heights of Erotic Nights of The Living Dead at least the sex scenes aren't as arse clenching as those featured in Emanuelle in America (no horses for one thing), the film does at least have a slightly more attractive, less warty cocked (stand up and be counted Percy Hogan) cast than is usual for a D'Amato movie and thankfully none of the animal cruelty that blights most cannibal flicks.

Because we all know that monkeys love to smoke.

And if nothing else at least you had to admire D'Amato for his perseverance.

Thursday, August 16, 2018

cannibal xerox.

Kids are back at school and I'm 'busy' prepping some serious work stuff here which roughly translates as throwing various unfinished sketches about whilst watching movie.

After revisiting the classic Amazonia: The Catherine Miles Story yesterday I realized that I was in the mind for a wee bit more cannibal cultness.

Unfortunately this was the first thing I could find.

Mondo Cannibale (AKA Cannibal Holocaust 2, Cannibal Holocaust: The Beginning, Cannibal World. 2003).
Dir: Bruno Mattei.
Cast: Helena Wagner, Claudio Morales, Cindy Jelic Matic, Antoine Reboul, Kevin Maxwell, Brad Santana, Michael Garland, Foster Howard, Eniko Bodnar, Zsilvia Chernel and Chan Le.

Well, somebody had to buy it.

The harsh of face yet smooth of thigh TV journalist cum Fame-hungry celebrity Grace Forsythe (Wagner, daughter of the composer of The Ring Cycle possibly) is in a dilemma.

Her hard hitting real-life reportage/review show NewsMooth has been unceremoniously canceled due in part to plummeting ratings but mainly due to its general crapness.

Five fingers, never touched the sides.

Understandably angry (and a wee bit aroused judging by the sweat on her top lip) at the decision she storms the TV station in order to confront her Tefal browed studio boss Geoff Head (played by an angry testicle) about the situation.

But as the tempers fray and the voices raise the whole thing goes from bad to worse via shouty McShoutington as Grace, whose narcissistic tendencies rival even those of pig-faced spunk-bucket Katie Hopkins, offers to let him stick it in her if he recommissions her show.


"To me! To you!"

Sensibly holding out for a better offer (possibly a crack at her flaxen haired, Goddess like co-star Matic, I know I would) he manages to resist Grace's bullish charm but does offer her a lifeline.

If she can persuade her ex co-presenter - and former lover - Bob 'horse cock' Manson (Poundshop Antonio Banderas, professional sexy man and star of Land of Death, Morales) to accompany her on a trip down the Amazon - as opposed to up the casino - to film a no holds barred expose of cannibal rituals he'll commission a second series.

The only rule is that she mustn't be naughty and go around faking any footage or burn any villages downs.

Just in case Ruggero Deodato sues obviously.

With her pudgy little sausage fingers crossed behind her back Grace agrees.

Five go mad on Meth.

With the contracts signed and the sun block packed our dynamic duo, along with their merry band of ratings hungry TV professionals (including the platinum princess of power herself Matic as ace troubleshooter Cindy Blair) in tow, the merry band excitedly descend into the Amazon jungle determined to find the worlds legendary last remaining cannibal tribe at any cost.

And by any cost I actually mean any cost that doesn't go above the films £18.65 budget obviously.

But first things first and there's just enough time for a wee bit of topless sunbathing and a chance for their native guide Brian to get all hot under the collar as he nervously rubs lard all over Grace's hairy back and arse.

It's a dirty, nay sticky job but someone has to do it.

And by rights it should be the lowliest member of the cast.

Unfortunately (for us) he gets sent off to perform some odd jobs before he can get round to oiling up Cindy (bah) and so with a heavy heart, heaving bosom and slightly damp undies the lovely ladies get - slowly - dressed before rounding up the troops (which before you ask isn't a euphemism for touching each others breasts) and venture forth into the unknown.

Which is lucky really, seeing as last time they ventured fifth and only won a coconut.

I thank you.

"And when I want a good mooth
shite-in I pull THIS face!"

As the team sweat and fart their way thru' the undergrowth (or in this case the garden centre behind Mr. Mattei's house) allegedly miles from civilization, you can understand why Bob is so surprised when a group of battle hardened soldiers suddenly appear from behind a bush.

Their camouflage must be bloody effective seeing as the 'jungle' is only about as big as a school gym.

It seems that they're members of some elite UN jungle protection force charged with stopping the locals eating each other and protecting the trees from loggers and the like.

But today is Wednesday which means that they can forget all that and spend a few hours hiding in the local fauna taking pot shots and the scantily clad, pot bellied natives.

Bob is appalled by such random acts of violence and in a manly display of testosterone fueled righteous anger stamps his foot for a bit whilst tutting.

Grace on the other hand reckons that a wee bit of random violence is just what the show needs so she gives the soldiers 50 pence and a bag of Haribo Starmix each to continue shooting the 'savages'.

They greedily agree as Grace hurriedly sets up her camera. 

Best. Caption. Ever.

With a tape full of killings and a promise of more gruesome goodies to come our intrepid band of bad men and ne'er do wells bed down for the night.

Their next stop, according to the map is a village of friendly tribes folk.

Understandably Grace reckons that this might be a bit boring for the viewers so suggests that they should set fire to the place before shooting all the old folk in the face and stealing all the kids sweets, Bob however, being a world weary and cynical type, thinks that there's enough violence in the world without causing any more.

Especially in the name of TV ratings.

Right on.

Grace gently reminds Bob that he's getting paid at least £12 and all the Monster Munch he can eat for taking part in the programme so he'd better stop whining and start killing.

Thinking it over for at least a minute Bob sighs and gets to work polishing his massive weapon.

Grace sneaked away from base camp
to scoff the gangs last Snickers bar.

Meanwhile back at the studio, Geoff Head is foaming (at least it looks like foam) at the mouth as he views the incoming footage before literally exploding with unashamed delight when the viewing figures are released.

It seems that everyone on the planet bar three people in West Bromwich (who don't have a television set because they swapped it for magic beans and a Britain First hoodie) are avidly watching the groups every move.

Geoff's dad (and owner of the station) is less impressed tho' feeling that what the audience really want is less violence and more novelty dog-based acts.

After a tense board meeting the old fool is sent packing as the entire committee contact Grace to demand more murders.

And maybe a side order of violent buggery.

"Raugh row!"

Grace and company are more than happy to deliver and spend the next few days burning down villages, shite-ing in peoples gardens and parading old, shaggy breasted grannies before the cameras in between raping the odd virgin and skinning various animals, all in the name of entertainment of course.

Imagine a lower rent, slightly less patronizing version of Ant and Decs Saturday Night Takeaway and you're halfway there.

Everyone seems to be enjoying the ultra-violent holiday, egging each other on to commit more and more sordid and sick acts of depravity, except Cindy that is who, in a moment of clarity shouts the age old question "I wonder who the real cannibals are?" at the group as they roughly bugger a wee native girl.

As heartfelt as her question is, she really hadn't thought it thru', I mean the real cannibals are the ones in grass skirts that eat folk aren't they?


As the violence continues unabated and the studio demands more and more shocking images (some involving goats) the film crew approach the jungle home of the infamous man-eating, Grant Morrison worshiping  'Invisibles', the most primitive and savage tribe ever recorded.

I say recorded but obviously they haven't been (yet) or there'd be not point in traveling all that way to get exclusive footage would there?

Or am I being too literal?

One sure fact about the Invisibles tho' is that you can bet that they don't give a monkeys ball about ratings.

Or cutlery.

Will our merry band survive their descent into the green inferno?

And if so, what will be left of them?

Sneakily promoted as Cannibal Holocaust 2: The Beginning in some territories (is this the most over-used title ever?), lo-fi exploitation king Mattei's homage (OK, shameless rip-off) to Ruggero Deodato's legendary mockumentary classic harks back to a more simple age of film-making when local video store shelves were stacked to bursting with low budget versions of hit movies and shit movies alongside cheap as fuck Brit movies of all shapes and sizes.

Actually they were all the same shape and size if I'm honest.

Except for the Betamax ones that were slightly smaller.

Oh yes and the Video 2000 releases which were fucking huge.

But I digress.

A meaty Matic sandwich....yum!

Like most of the late, great Mattei's horror output (from Zombie Creeping Flesh to Zombies: The Beginning), the screenplay is an almost exact copy of the source material in question (in his career the director homaged everything from Aliens to Dawn of The Dead via The Archers - possibly) but as with nearly all of his later work, cheaply and quickly made on video in the Philippines with a core band of actors and technicians that he would use until his untimely death.

Which isn't a bad thing really seeing as it meant that we got much more of the great mans work than we possibly deserved, with his final four movies being some of his most entertaining.

And not just because they introduced audiences to the wonderful Ms. Matic as well as the kick ass Ripley wannabe Yvette Yzon.

And for these reasons alone we should be eternally grateful.

"Ah fell aff mah beanstalk!"

But if you're worried that a drop in budget would somehow taint the great man's vision then worry ye not as there's plenty here to enjoy, from blood drenched breasts to flabby thrusting man ass via a tasteful pole-based abortion, Mondo Cannibale is the perfect date movie for those romantic nights in.

And who knows?

After sharing this with a loved one, you, just like the bouncy native girl chased thru the jungle by a horny Claudio Morales may get lucky too.

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

spice girls.

Captivating cover art from planet pulp.

pretty? vacant.

Was out shopping yesterday when I saw this in my local Fopp bargain bin for £3.

Unfortunately I already own it.

And mine cost me £15.

But that was about 10 years ago.

Interesting eh?

But not as interesting as the fact that it's just been issued on shiny Blu-Ray bu 88 Films with a whole host of amazing extras which should be purchased for these alone right now.*

Amazonia: The Catherine Miles Story (AKA Cannibal Holocaust 2: The Catherine Miles Story, Captive Women VII: White Slave, Forest Slave, White Slave. 1985)
Dir: Mario Gariazzo.
Cast: Elvire Audray, Will Gonzales, Dick Campbell, Dick Marshall, Alma Vernon,
Grace Williams, Sara Fleszer, Mark Cannon, James Boyle, Peter Robyns, Jessica Bridges, Stephanie Walters, Neal Berger, Deborah Savage and what looks like Jill Gascoine and Alfred Molina.

But probably isn't.

The local nosed, thin-lipped and vacant eyed bimbette Catherine Miles (Audray, star of the sword and sorcery classic The Iron Master and the wobbly thigh obsessed Klaus Kinski epic Vampire in Venice) has journeyed to Brazil from her posh boarding school in London (England near Europe but not in it, well not for much longer) in order to spend the summer holidays with her wealthy (yet spookily dubbed) plantation-owner parents.

As a special treat to celebrate her eighteenth birthday, her parents decide to take her on a scenic river tour on their luxury houseboat (tho' her aunt and uncle must stink of piss seeing as they've been forced to follow in a canoe).

Lounging in the sun and enjoying the stock footage all around her, Catherine is reminded of her happy childhood growing up in the jungle, unaware of the tragedy about to befall her family as, without so much as a scary musical cue the houseboat is engulfed in a hail of poison darts fired from a native raiding party led by the sexily haired Brian Umukai (Gonzales, taking a break from running really quickly in those slightly racist Warner Brothers cartoons).


Not too surprisingly her poor parents are killed in the crossfire and Catherine is incapacitated by a potent paralyzing frog-venom covered spear.

And no, I didn't see that coming.

Tho' to be fair neither did she.

Audray: She'll have no trouble here.

Lying incapacitated on the deck and slowly weeing herself, she can only watch in mild discomfort as a band of arse flashing Indio warriors board the houseboat and proceed to cut off her parents heads before clumsily lifting her up and carrying off to their camp.

Her aunt and uncle (husband and wife team Gascoine and Molina) however appeared to have been spared this horror by obviously being far too smelly for the tribe to attack.

Or were they?

Catherine, awake at this point and tied to a pole like a stringy pale turkey is clumsily dropped in front of a hut belonging to one Geoff Ungowa.

It seems that this Geoff fella is the tribal leader and he's decided to award Catherine to Tony the richest man in the village as a big pink, wobbly arsed gift.

A big pink, wobbly arsed gift with a fucking shocking perm.

Big Tony is obviously excited by the myriad of possibilities open to him now he has a lady of his own and can hardly contain himself, as he jumps up and down with what looks like a mouldy carrot sticking out of his loincloth at a right angle whilst dribbling uncontrollably.

His passions are soon cooled down tho' when he discovers that sweet lil' Catherine is still a virgin.

It appears that the tribe have rule that states that a woman with an intact hymen can't be touched.

Yup, they have a special 'Hyman Go!' machine that they use on ladies during a big ceremony every second Thursday of every third month.

No, I am not making this shit up.

Tony's luck goes from bad to worse tho' as by the time it comes round to Catherine's shot on the big machine he's being challenged for her hand (and the rest of her obviously) by the aforementioned Umukai.

The pair get down to a bit of slightly homo-erotic wrestling before Umukai beats the rich boy to a pulp.

"I still cannae see mah car keys hen!"

You see, it seems that dear old Umukai has had a huge girlie crush on Catherine from the moment he first set eyes on her as she lay paralyzed on the deck of her parents’ boat.

Which would be OK if he hadn't have been beheading her mum at the time.

But who said the path of true love was a smooth one?

Trying to win her round and to get her used to the jungle lifestyle he enlists the help of his sister Janice (Fleszer, probably) who as luck would have it spent her younger years living with a group of English speaking missionaries so has a mastery of Catherine's native tongue to rival your average Glaswegian.

In return for all this girly chat about pop music and nights spent painting each others nails, Catherine repays her new friend by teaching her basic first aid (she must of been a Brownie I guess), which comes in mighty lucky when the tribe's top hunter, Barnaby breaks his leg.

Re-setting it for him (whilst mopping his brow in a concerned manner) is enough to convince King Geoff that Catherine is in fact a powerful white witch, which helps no end with her being accepted as a member of the tribe.

"I thought Vic Morrow would be taller".

With the passing of time (and bad dad gas), Catherine begins to see that Umukai really does love her (I know it's vomit inducing but I didn't write it) and eventually they learn enough of each other’s tongues (snigger) to communicate.

With each other that is not with insects like Jennifer Connelly in Phenomena.

During one of their late night chats Umukai reveals a secret so devastating that it turns Catherines world upside down.

It appears that Umukai's tribe didn't start the attack on her parents boat, only joining in later because they were bored, and that the real culprits were DI Maggie Forbes from The Gentle Touch and Doctor Octopus.

Catherine is shocked by this revelation (well, I say shocked but it's more a look of mild apathy if I'm honest) and refuses to believe Umukai.

It's only when Catherine remembers that she overheard her dad telling her dear mum that his will gives her aunt and uncle total control of the plantation (and all their cash) in the event that both her parents die plus the fact that aunt and uncle had lost everything they had due to a string of Hollywood flops that everything seems to slot into place.

Jill Gascoine's attempts to stop Alfred Molina
wanking in bed had maybe gone a wee bit too far.

Catherine decides that a dose of rampant raging revenge is on the cards and luckily, her months of living with a group of head hunting cannibal savages have given her the skills and determination she needs to see it thru'....

Mario Gariazzo's slow burning everyday tale of love, severed heads and revenge against a jungle back drop is unfortunately better known for being flogged to unsuspecting German punters as Cannibal Holocaust 2 (a film to which it's completely unrelated) than for anything else, which is a shame really because underneath the interminably po-faced courtroom framing device featuring a recently returned Catherine on trial for her aunt and uncles murder, the stilted acting, wooden dialogue and copious amount of man-ass on show there's a not too bad movie desperately trying to claw it's way out.

I'm not saying it's a good movie however, far from it but compared to director Gariazzo's other work (The Brother from Space? The Sexorcist? Very Close Encounters of the 4th Kind anyone?) that you realise that the last 90 minutes could have been a lot harder to sit thru'.


But for all it's wobbly bits, violence and (naive) attempts at showing 'the white man' as being even more savage than the great unwashed tribal folk, Amazonia: The Catherine Miles Story never amounts to anything more than an obscure entry in the (by this time) bloated tummy of the cannibal genre.

Saying that, it's way more enjoyable than Castaway (tho' Tom Hanks does have much perter breasts than Elvire Audray) and has a nicer collection of arses than 120 days of Sodom.

So it's a winner by default then really.

*Look let's be honest at some point someone (anyone) is gonna send me some free shit.