Wednesday, November 22, 2017

fog on the rhine.

After rewatching The Vampires Night Orgy recently I've found myself obsessing over the sublime Helga Liné.

Which is nice.

And, I may add a good enough excuse to revisit....

Las garras de Lorelei (AKA L'abbraccio mortale di Lorele, The Loreley's Grasp, The Night the Screaming Stopped. 1974).
Dir: Amando de Ossorio
Cast: Tony Kendall, Helga Liné, Silvia Tortosa, Ángel Menéndez, Josefina Jartin, Loreta Tovar, José Thelman, Luis Induni and Francisco Nieto.

“Send her back into the legendary night from which she has come.”



Welcome to the small town of Cleftplate nestling on the banks of the river Rhine, a town where nylon action slacks and porn mustaches rule supreme and where a green-gilled beast is doing it's best to eat thru' the entire neighbourhood in it's search for fresh hearts.

Beats Emmerdale any day.

But not The Archers obviously.

Every night dozens of angry, polyester-clad villagers gather at the local pub to debate who or what is terrorizing the town.

Luckily there's an expert in their midst, the local doctor, one Terry Von Lander (Der Todesrächer von Soho star Menéndez) and according to him the town is being stalked by a mythical beast.

Sounds plausible.

The Cleftplate men's club annual game of spin the bottle was always popular with the Colonel.


It transpires (I love that word it's second only to ottoman) that many years ago a beautiful lady, named Lorelei who spurned by her lover after he tricked her into a bout of the bum sex, tossed herself off the cliffs and into the murky waters of the Rhine.

As you would.

Well ever since then it is said that she returns every number of years (he's not that specific) in order to feast on human flesh for some convoluted reason.

I must have missed that bit.

Anyway fearing for the safety of the pupils at the local all girls boarding school, the sternly saucy headmistress Elke Ackerman (top tottie Tortosa from Horror Express) hires local he-man and open shirted sex god Sigurd (Italy's very own John Leslie, Kendall, most famous for his role as PI Jo Louis Walker in the Kommissar X movies) to patrol the grounds in the hope of keeping the pupils safe.

Frankly if I had to choose between a fishy monster or Sigurd's obscenely large bulge I know which I'd probably need more protection from, it's almost as if he has a babies arm down there.

A baby bodybuilders arm.

A baby bodybuilders arm holding an apple.

A really, really big apple.

With one huge weeping eye.

Arriving the following day astride a huge motorbike, Sigurd and his trousers cause quite a stir (and a hell of a lot of dampness) amongst the students as well as a feeling of complete loathing from Elke.

I doth think she protests too much but let's wait and see.

You would, he would, your mum did. Twice.


Patrolling the grounds every night with his massive weapon cocked and ready to fire, our he-man hero alleviates the boredom by leering and winking at the girls whilst they get ready for bed.

And being dolly burds they fahkin' love it.

Obviously.

Unfortunately (or fortunately if you prefer stalking barely legal girls to killing monsters) the beast appears to be more interested in killing the townsfolk.

Which, if I'm honest doesn't seem to bother anyone until the creature murders the local homeless musician cum rent boy Tobias that is.

With no-one left to cuddle up to on those cold winters nights when their wives have locked them out, a mob of the towns most mustachioed men march on the mayor's cottage and demand action.

Back at the school shifty Sigurd is having some trouble of his own after being caught masturbating in the pupil's private pool.

Ms. Elke, still not swayed by his manliness, sends our hero off into the countryside for a swim in a nearby lake in the vain hope of cooling his ardor.

"Ere! Can you smell Mackerel?"

Wandering around like a lost child (albeit a lost child with a massive hard-on), Sigurd comes across (I'm not even going to type it) a ravishing redhead in a green fringed bikini lounging nonchalantly on a rock trying her best not to appear too cold.

Having not seen a female for nearly fifteen minutes Sigurd gives chase but the mysterious woman gracefully glides thru' the rocks, her ample arse gently bouncing hypnotically as she goes before disappearing from sight. 

Bewitched by this ginger siren Sigurd begins to hang around the lake on a daily basis in the hope of seeing her again and luckily (with the movie only being ninety odd minutes) this happens fairly quickly.

But not as quickly as Sigurd's smooth moves seeing as within minutes he manages to get his mysterious Ms. into a saucy clinch on a dirty mattress in a broken down fisherman’s hut.

The romantic devil.

Unfortunately (for him and us tho' I reckon the lady had a narrow escape) just at the point of entry a big bearded man appears and reprimands Sigurd for keeping Lorelei out for so long.

But wait, isn't Lorelei the name of the flesh-feasting beast?

Sigurd thinks for a moment before remembering that one Lorelei is a big green monster whilst the other is a curvaceous sex kitten played by Berlin born Liné, from the equally fantastic La orgía nocturna de los vampiros.

Without another word beardy scoops her up into his muscled, well oiled arms and proceeds to walk straight into the lake.

Sigurd is intrigued to say the least.

"Hey Senorita! How'd you fancy coming in the back o' me car and letting me shite in your mooth?"

Dazed, confused and still aroused Sigurd is wandering aimlessly thru the woods when he discovers a shifty Von Lander skulking in the bushes during what appears to be an impromptu dogging session.

The doctor, however, obviously horrified at the thought of being outed as a sex fiend begins to confuse Sigurd with his utter bollocks theories.

You know the type of thing; much mention of the moons rays, waffle regarding photochemical stuff and theories on the molecular structure of things.

And to prove all these theories and how on earth they relate to the monster he invites Sigurd back to his Victorian style knocking shop cum laboratory where he makes a severed human hand grow green and scaly.

He's even created a radioactive steak knife in case he gets close enough to stab the creature.

Or for if he ever has a radioactive steak obviously.

Sigurd is impressed.

Unfortunately before a town meeting can be called Von Lander is violently murdered (is there any other kind?) by Lorelei and his lab burnt to the ground.

Every cloud has a silver lining however (except mushroom clouds, their linings are Strontium 90 based) as this only increases Sigurd's acceptance of the idea that his new squeeze Lorelei could in fact be the same Lorelei that's killing everyone.

Thinking the whole situation over for several seconds he decides that even tho' she can be a wee bit grumpy, Elke is probably better sex material and so heads off to the beach wearing his tiniest shorts and carrying a big bomb.

Insert cock here.



Persuading a local fisherman to take him out onto the lake, our horny hero plunges into the waters just below the infamous rocks from where Lorelei originally jumped and soon discovers an ancient underwater cavern festooned with jewels, gold and bikini clad ladies.

Which is nice.

But for once Sigurd is not to be distracted by such things, he's here on a mission, not only to blow the place to Govan and back but to also inform Lorelei that he's breaking up with her due in part to her habit of eating people but mainly cos she stinks of herring.

What a guy.

Jeremy Beadle: The Revenge.



After a few minutes of inconsequential dialogue and slow fighting Sigurd manages to fight off the bikini girls advances and set the charges before swimming to safety and leaving poor Lorelei to die under a collapsing hill.

Or did she?

Back on the mainland Elke is enjoying a midnight walk around the grounds when she hears a rustling in the bushes followed by the faint aroma of fish...

Lorelei is alive and well and out for revenge on Sigurd's 'other woman', jumping out from behind a tree and indulging in a spot of girl on fish wrestling.

Which frankly isn't as exciting as it sounds.

Luckily Sigurd arrives in the nick of time and plunges his radioactive blade into Lorlelei who then, not too surprisingly dies as the lovers gaze into each others eyes.

Aww, how sweet.

Yup, someone was paid for designing this.




Not only taking liberties with the Lorelei myth but kinda taking the piss a wee bit too, Blind Dead creator Amando de Ossorio takes the traditional tale of a beautiful siren who lures sailors to their deaths by enticing them into the rocky cliffs of the River Rhine and crafts it into one of the most terrifying monster movies ever made.

By that I mean one of the most terrifying monster movies ever made by someone named deOssorio and titled Las garras de Lorelei obviously.

Glad that's out of the way.

The real Lorelei yesterday. Well a dramatic (and incredibly hot) statue of her anyway. Here's hoping it's wipe clean.


Although never hitting the heights of The Blind Dead, Las garras de Loreleiis a near perfect blend of tight storytelling, great locations, seventies breasted woman, shoddy gore and frankly bonkers characterization all mixed in with some fantastic Carry On style sauciness and topped off with a career best performance from Tony Kendall's trousers.


A must see for any self respecting fan of fish-based romantic horror or just those who enjoy staring at a (very) well endowed man for an hour and a half.

Perfection.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 76).


A total no-brainer, possibly Britain's most yumsome actress ever, the wonderful Sally Hawkins.

Especially as Mrs Brown in Paddington tho'.

Perfection.






Sunday, November 12, 2017

horrorday on the buses


Was attending Cine Excess this weekend (in my capacity of drawy/mixy man obviously I mean you've read this blog do you really think I'd be allowed to say this stuff in public?) and was pleasantly surprised to find that first thing Friday morning all round Writer, critic, film programmer, researcher and educator Mr
Lee Broughton was delivering a paper on quite possibly one of the greatest bus-bound bloodsucking sagas ever released.

The frankly fangtastic (sorry couldn't resist) La Orgia Nocturna de los Vampiros.

For years I'd had to put up with watching a horribly chewed VHS copy of the movie seeing as no-one could be arsed giving it a proper DVD release.

Until about a year ago when whilst out shopping for pants  I found this little beauty lurking on a shelf just behind a copy of Night Train Murders.

And for only 3 quid too.

Bargain.

Trackings dodgy mate!


Well it would have been had, upon watching, it'd not become obvious that Fusion Media Sales had in fact broken into my house and just transferred my copy onto disc.

Via an old sock.

It's even got chews on it.

It's still bloody brilliant tho'.

Even the academic types think so.

La Orgia Nocturna de los Vampiros (AKA The Vampires Night Orgy. 1973) 
Dir: Leòn Klimovsky
Cast: Jack Taylor, Dianik Zurakowska, Charo Soriano, Helga Liné, José Guardiola, Manuel de Blas, David Aller, Indio González, Luis Ciges, Antonio Páramo, María Vidal, Sandalio Hernández, Fernando Bilbao, Alfonso de la Vega, Rafael Albaicín, Reg Varney, Fernando E. Romero and Sarita Gil.


”The Countess says you can continue your work, with one arm!”



It's a sunny day in seventies Spain, Stan Butler anxious to get away from Blakey's constant complaining has decided to get a summer job driving a motley band of agency employees to their new jobs at a huge country estate and hopefully pull some dolly birds along the way.

Unfortunately whilst still 110 km from their destination, Stan suffers a massive heart attack and without his buck toothed pal Jack to perform a complicated heart massage procedure dies.

"Ere Jack...I can't feel my fingers!"



Luckily the passengers manage to stop the bus before anyone else is killed, regaining their composure and calling a meeting over what action to take.

Ferret-like gardener Terry Godo (former governor of Santander, Ciges) volunteers to take little Violet Smallgirl (Gil, later to grace our screens in the fantastic Esposa y amante) off the bus (as opposed to up the casino) whilst the rest of the passengers hurriedly carry poor Stan to the back seats before draping a dirty blanket over him.

Oh the indignity of it all.

Whilst all this stiff shuffling is going down Violet heads off to explore the local rocks where she bumps into a bowl haired, snub nosed little boy named Jeremy (star of Profesor Eróticus and director of Dawn of The Dead Romero) who invites her to play with him in the nearby quarry.

Until he gets bored and vanishes into thin air that is.

Some scary titles yesterday.

After much discussion and flailing of arms the passengers decide to head to the nearby village of Tolnio in order to find food and more importantly dispose of Stan seeing as the Brylcreem from his quiff is now dripping down the seats and staining the floors.

On arrival tho' our reluctant travelers realize that the entire place is empty, save for internationally renowned brush salesman Luis (Taylor from Polanski's The Ninth Gate), who instantly takes a liking to the harsh faced yet pleasantly breasted Alma (Scrabble scoring Zurakowska, star of such quality fare as Dracula, the Terror of the Living Dead....yes I know it's bizarre but these folk did indeed go on to have careers).

Helping themselves to the local hotels supply of crisps and booze it's not long before everyone is passed out, either draped across chairs in the bar or sprawled across the beds in one of the rooms.

Brits abroad eh?

Although to be honest they're not Brits they're Spanish.

And in Spain.

I didn't really think that thru' did I?

Let's just forget about it and move on.

Thanks.

Anyway back to the action where lecherous Luis has discovered that not only his is room right next to Alma's but there's a spy hole in the wall giving him (and us) ample opportunity to ogle her frighteningly conical breasts.

Ding dong.

Not everyone of the bus is a sex pest tho', there are a couple of honest-to-goodness alcoholics too, including the pie-eyed plumbers mate Ernesto (former Looney Tunes star Gonzálezis) who is too preoccupied with finding more booze to think about sleeping (or shagging) and wanders off into the village in the hope of finding an off-licence or 24 hour garage.

Imagine his surprise then when instead he finds every resident of the village having a party in the local graveyard.

And if that wasn't enough to tingle your spine imagine his reaction when he discovers that they're all vampires.

Now how's he gonna explain that to my nan?

"Hello there hen....fancy a wee bit o' mooth shite-in?"

Next morning and our heroes are woken by the shock haired local mayor, Boris Van Johnson (Guardiola), who helpfully explains the village's earlier emptiness was due to them all attending the town librarians funeral but not to worry because they're all welcome for as long as they wish to stay and that their bills will all be paid for by the Countess (the utterly gorgeous Liné from the classic Las garras de Lorelei) who lives in a house, a very big house overlooking Tolnio.

No, nothing sinister here at all then.

But for the mayor there are more important things to worry about, like what to feed everyone with seeing as the whole village appears to be devoid of shops.

"Can we fix it? No it's fucked!"


Turns out that he actually has a plan for such an occurrence (can you imagine the town meeting? "First order of the day, what to do if a bus  load of non vampire tourists turn up unannounced")  and soon has the town giant (Drácula contra Frankenstein star and uncle of Frodo, Bilbao) chopping off various bits of townsfolk to serve to the travelers.

Which is kinda sweet if you think about it.

But let's not forget that this is a horror movie not some feel good community caper so to add an air of uncomfortable menace to the proceedings (that doesn't involve Bri-Nylon slacks) who should reappear unannounced - and without having a wash the stinking bastard - why only Ernesto, all grey-faced, poo stained and scabby necked.

Exactly like your dad after his works Christmas party.

And his excuse for staying out all night?

Well according to it he's been busy burying Stan, tho' his pal Marcos Tandy (Paranormal Xperience 3D's de Blas) jokingly reckons from the size of his stomach he's probably eaten him.

If only he knew eh?

Invited to dine with the Countess our merry band enjoy a polite evening of stilted chat, sloppy dubbing and vaguely human shaped meat until the clock chimes midnight when she bids them farewell.

All that is except wannabe actor and stud for hire Cesar (Aller from Krakatoa: East of Java, the film not the place ) who after shoddily reciting a wee bit of Shakespeare gets to shake his own spear in the Countess' bed.

By that I mean they indulged in the sex.

Rather than a post-coital cuddle and a fag tho' the Countess leaps on the poor fella, biting his neck before tossing him out of the window to the awaiting mass of hungry villagers below.

Usually when that's happened to me I just get given a false telephone number.

"Is it in yet?"


As day makes way to night, more and more of the travelers succumb to the villagers vile curse and with Luis no longer content to just crack one off whilst spying on Alma undressing, our peephole pal must find a means of escape for him and his squeeze to be...

Will they fix the car and escape?

Will the hotel ever replenish it's stock of pork scratchings?

Will Luis get his end away or be cursed to a life of furtive masturbation at bus stops?

And what is the secret ingredient of Boris' ‘special drink’?

Well I'm not telling.

Whoever designed this cover, I hope your parents are proud.


From the late, great Leon Klimovsky, the man behind the Paul Naschy starrers The Werewolf Vs. Vampire Woman and Dr. Jekyll Vs. The Werewolf comes this frankly bonkers tale of fangs, fiends and migrant workers that plays out like Carry On Abroad as envisaged by Jean Rollin.

There may not be any actual night orgies and only one true vampire but when a movie features so many close-ups of slobbering gypsy mouths, crooked European teeth and unkempt seventies bush as this you really can't complain.

Well obviously you could but I for one would ignore you.

And so what if the plots been done to death a thousand times before by the likes of 2000 Maniacs and The Grapes Of Death, it's rarely done with so much flair and grace by a cast that scarily decides to play the whole thing totally straight.

And I for one are grateful.

Plus it features Helga Liné in a set of comedy pound shop vampire teeth and a chiffon nightie, take from that what you will.


Hook, Liné and tinker.



A masterpiece of holiday horror from start to finish, like Withnail And I stumbling drunkenly into the plot of I Am Legend, La Orgia Nocturna de los Vampiros should be on the top of every bodies top ten Spanish Vampire films set in towns and featuring trapped bus passengers lists.


Well it is in mine.


For a film that cost tuppence to make  the locations are surprisingly creepy, the luscious ladies are perfect Euro-vamps personified and the script is just the right side of dream-like, never wandering into the 'dubbed into incomprehensibility' badlands that many lo-fi Euroshockers end up in.

Glorious.

Unlike the DVD transfer.

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 75).

To celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Glorious October Socialist Revolution I give you The Grand Duchess Tatiana Nikolaevna of Russia.







Tuesday, October 31, 2017

bark at the moon.

It's finally here!

The stunning climax to this whole 31 days of horror rubbish I've been doing for the last, well 31 days (obvious really) and like everything else I do I started off with the best intentions but got bored towards the end and ended up posting any old rubbish.

Talking of any old rubbish I noticed that I'd not updated the piccies for this so Photobucket that I used to use had deleted them all so it's as good an excuse as any to revisit possibly the second greatest zombie movie of all time*.

So here just for Arena reader Mr. Dissolvedpaul of Smethwick, is a quick rehash of this review with his favourite quotes and various suggestions for comedic captions added.

Plus with the fantastic Weekend of The Dead coming up this very week (and a cut down, less childish version of this review appearing in the programme) I thought it was time to redo it seeing as a frightening amount of people seem to be discovering this classic for the first time.

For fucks sake where have you all been?

And by the way if you do (as you should) love this movie as I do, why not express that love by buying one of these fantastic Peter Bark T-shirts available here.



End of plug.

Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror (AKA The Nihgts of Terror, Le Notti del Terrore, 1981)
Dir: Andrea Bianchi
Cast: Peter Bark, Mariangela Giordano, Karin Well, Anna Valente, Simone Mattioli and Raimondo Barbieri.


"No, don't eat me. I'm your friend!"


Our tale of terror opens in a damp, dark cave - and that, surprisingly, isn’t a euphemism for Karin Well - where we join Santa's piss stained, fish-bearded and buggery obsessed brother examining some spooky cave drawings.

Obviously excited about this discovery he begins to bang on the walls whilst doing a - fairly erotic in the circumstances - drunk dance which unfortunately for him (but not for us) has awoken the dead that reside in the cave.

Dead that are hungry for human flesh.

And a wee bit of old man arse probably.



"Aye son, mah lottery numbers have
come up! oh no...ahv pished mah sel'."



Thru' the magic of cack handed editing it's suddenly the next morning where a motley band of visitors (three sexy young couples and a pot bellied dwarf  - sorry, small boy, my mistake) have arrived at the house and are looking forward to a weekend break in the country and catching up with their old pal Professor Ayres (the aforementioned bearded Barbieri).

Rocking up at the front door like some nightmare vision in Bri-Nylon our merry band are informed by the (fairly attractive in a kinda pound shop way) maid that the professor is out exploring and may be gone some time so they should make themselves at home.

Which in this case is an excuse for a quick bout of hot sweaty shagging in the guest bedrooms.

Rushing to their rooms to unpack, undress and start shagging, poor little Michael (the legend that is Peter Bark looking for all the world like the result of an unholy pairing of Kevin Spacey and a warty testicle) is left alone in the downstairs lobby with only his Rubik Cube and Eye-Spy book of European arses for company.



Your mum and dad. Having sex.
In your bed.



After amusing himself for a few minutes playing with the hat stand and creepily chasing the maid, Michael decides to creep in on his mother and her mightily moustachioed lover in order to pick up a few sex tips.

We've all done it.

None too surprisingly the sight of a bowl headed, poppy eyed freak gazing lustfully from behind the sideboard does nothing for her growing passion so she throws a shoe at him screaming "Get out!".

As we will learn later, Michael has a wee thing for his dear mum and doesn't like her hanging around with perm haired, tanned Lothario's, no matter how tight their arses look whilst thrusting up and down on his mummy.

Fair enough.



Insert cock here.


After a morning of gin soaked sexiness and rampant STD's the couples settle down to some top grub whilst discussing the Professor's paper on the magical practices of the ancient Etruscans (ah, you studied that too eh?) before deciding to frolic round the lush gardens.

Michael on the other hand has decided to just sit and stare at his mums breasts.

Saying that tho' if my mums were half as bouncy I'd do the same.


But I digress.

Anyway, just in case you're wondering the frolicking in question mainly consists of sexy photography, breast fondling and general fanny flashing sauciness.

Fun for them maybe, but not for the viewer, unless you find the idea of middle aged Italian couples in nasty 70's fashion dry-humping to a sub Confessions score attractive.




"Can you smell cabbage?"


Luckily tho' just when you think the movie is going to descend into a soft core Euro-porn extravaganza, the dead do indeed start to rise from beneath the rosebushes and - remarkably for rotting centuries old Etruscans - manage to cut off any access to the cars, run the really annoying Janet (not the same of from Zombie Lake mind) into a handy bear trap, kill the non moustachioed man with a house brick and trap the shaky, shot to fuck survivors in the house.

And all within about twelve minutes, which isn't bad for a group of shite-covered tramps.


A shite moothed zombie
Etruscan yesterday.


The group are left with a big decision to make....do they:

A. Board up the house, arm themselves, find a safe vantage point (i.e. the attic) and defend themselves till help comes.

or


B. Argue among themselves, wandering off in a huff occasionally (alone).


Unbelievably Mr. moustache decides it would be best to board the house up! Everyone looks at him, then each other, then back at him (except Michael who's still staring at his mums breasts) and then start arguing.



"Hmmmm....
dirty pillows..."


One of the ladies (who cares which, they're all annoying) strops off and almost instantly gets killed by a knife wielding carnie zombie (unusual but quite nice).

Scarily he's not even the brightest one, I mean these zombies can actually plan attacks, use weapons and climb walls!

This skill is particularly useful when attacking the (still fairly hot) maid whom the undead horde manage to pin thru' an upstairs window and behead with a large scythe, which was unexpected to say the least.



"Just a trim madam?"


Whilst all this is going on, Lothario man decides that the best course of action is to let the zombies into the house whilst the survivors hide in the pantry (do houses still have pantries?) sobbing like babies.

Surprisingly all the survivors think this is a great plan, except Michael that is who has an even  better idea.

You see he reckons now would be the best time to try and shag his mum.




Tom Cruise: the high waisted years.



Not knowing anything about shagging mums (well, not my own anyway) I'm quite sure (tho' I could be mistaken) that grabbing her breasts and trying to stick your tongue in her mouth isn't the way to go about it.

Unluckily for Michael this is just the smooth move he uses on her.

Unsurprisingly his mum freaks out a wee bit and throws another shoe at him screaming "Get out!" (it's becoming a habit) and Michael waddles off, only stopping to get bitten by a zombie.

Poor boy.

The survivors are faced with another difficult choice:

A. Run in the direction of the cars and drive away.

or

B. Run past the cars into the woods blindly waving your arms about going "AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!"

Which choice will they make?

Will they drive to safety or encounter a monastery full of black cloaked zombies?

Will Michael return from the grave to be met by his terrified mother or will she try to breast feed him in the most uncomfortable scene ever filmed?

The answer may be yes to the last one by the way.

Rush out and buy Burial Ground (or The Zombie Dead as the cheapo Vipco release calls it) and find out.





A bloody (not shitey) mooth
earlier today.


For all it's faults (including abysmal acting, paper thin characters, inept plotting, joke shop zombies etc.) Burial Ground is possibly one of the most entertaining films ever made, mostly down to Peter Bark's portrayal of the freaky mummy fixated Michael.

I mean whoever thought a 25 year old pot-bellied dwarf in a wig and nipple high trousers would make a convincing 12 year old deserves a medal for the sheer audacity of suggesting it.

He wanders around the film like some scary clockwork Dario Argento doll, either staring at his mums breasts or just staring into camera.

For what seems like hours at a time.

But his moment of triumph comes in the films closing moments; surrounded by the undead and with no means of escape the zombie Michael is welcomed by his open bloused mum to have some "mother's milk..."

Frankly I don't have the words and you won't either when you brave The Nights of Terror.......because you know you want to.

If any film is worthy of the Electric Frog/BAAD events treatment it's this one.

Cinematic gold.

Monday, October 30, 2017

baadly drawn boy.

Been busy teaching teens about Edgar Allan Poe today and had completely forgotten about 31 days of horror.

And let's be honest there's nothing I can watch that will ever be as horrific as the debacle that was BAAD and Electric Frog's attempt to show John Carpenter's Halloween at Kelvingrove Art Gallery on Saturday night, as fellow punter Mark Liddell observed:

"John Carpenter's Halloween at the Kelvingrove was like listening to a sub-aquatic production of the fucking Clangers."






"Whit?"




I mean I watch some shite but you'd be hard pushed to find any film fan whose idea of a grand night out is watching an Nth generation copy of one of the finest films ever - or at least trying to watch it when the screen has been placed too low to compensate for the level seating - with a soundtrack reminiscent of a couple having drunken, Lithuanian arse sex underwater.

Don't worry tho' there was a bar.

If your version of a bar is childsize plastic tumblers of warm Chardonnay, fermented cider or tiny cans of Coors Light for 4 quid a pop.

Donald Pleasance will be spinning in his grave.

As will Dean Cundey.

And he's not dead.

Anyway, realizing that I had day 30 to do I grabbed the first thing I could off the shelf and hoped for the best.

Fuck sake I feel cursed.

Terror Toons (2002).
Dir: Joe Castro.
Cast: Kerry Liu, Lizzy Borden, Beverly Lynne,Brandon Ellison and Fernando Padilla.





In a quiet neighbourhood in 'anytown' USA, two 'teenage' sisters , Cindy and Candy (Lynn and Borden* who, if I'm honest look old enough to not only have their own place by now but a couple of kids - and grandkids too - or maybe it's just the lighting, no they just look really old) have been left home alone by their parents for the evening.

And by home alone I mean left in the house, not the hit Christmas classic which if I'm honest would have been better.

 Scarily enough the parents are actually played by two men, the director being under the misapprehension that covering a guys face in flour makes them look female.

Can I just say that over the years literally dozens of directors have covered my face in various substances and not once have they remarked on how feminine it made me look.

Anyway, Cindy receives a mysterious DVD in the mail from the Devil himself (as you do) and decides to watch it.

As you would I guess.

Whilst all this digital media shite is going down Candy is amusing herself downstairs with her 'buddies' (as in she's dancing, it's not a euphemism for masturbation) unaware that by watching the disc her sister has unintentionally unleashed the hordes of Hell (well, two of them) on Earth in the form of Dr. Carnage and Max Assassin.

And if you think the Devil is bad, wait till you see the quality of the puppet makers he has working for him.





Inside Kevin Spacey's mind.

As the body count (and pants flashing action) rises Cindy realizes that she is the only one with the power to stop these evil cartoons from continuing their insane (ly average) murder spree.

Can she save her friends?....or will everyone die?

And more importantly will any of us get a refund for Saturday?

God knows we deserve it.

"Shall we bother checking the sound before we put this DVD on?"
"Fuck it we have their money now so who cares!"



Aaaah, Joe Castro.

When his name appears on a video box in the capacity of 'director' you know you're in for a treat, he's the 'genius' behind such modern day classic as Legend of The Chupacabra, The Young, The Gay and The Restless and Jackhammer plus creator of the stunning effects for movies as wide ranging as Near Death, Blood Feast 2 and Another Gay Movie as well as Arena favourite LA Zombie.

And he certainly delivers the goods with this film.

Unfortunately the goods are bashed, busted and well passed their sell by date.

Welcome to a world where mom's have five o'clock shadows, the supposed 14 year old heroines have all had (botched) boob jobs and the greatest party game for teens at parties is 'strip Ouija'.

Oh and the Devil looks like your granddad with one horn bigger than the other.

Saying that tho' I reckon for all his faults even Castro would baulk at charging 18 quid for a film event without first checking the sound in the venue.


"Put it in me!"



And whilst the acting is non existent and the cast have the look of dazed and confused deer trapped in the headlights of an upcoming car about them - during the extras one of the cast can't remember making the film and another tells how she can't remember lines so she just made dialogue up on the spot - and the 'special' effects seem to consist of random animal puppets popping up from behind furniture every few minutes the film does have a certain homely charm and in some cases it's cheapness is kinda sweet, for example when any of the female cast get bitten by the toons it always cuts to a monkey biting a man's shin. 

No matter what the actresses wearing we get this same shot......



And it does feature the best 'is this terror or is this my cum face?' acting ever to appear on celluloid.....




Plus what other movie can you think of that ends with a rat arsed Lucifer battling with a wanna be porn star playing a 15 year old dressed in a superhero 'costume' consisting of some pimp shades, a tea towel cape, pink vest top and huge black granny pants?

"Meow!" probably.

Slag it off all you like but at least you can hear the dialogue.

And I bet if you emailed Joe Castro regarding it you wouldn't just get an out of office reply.

Unlike some events companies that think a nice logo and artsy hipster pics make up for shoddy planning and shit customer service.


Plus if you actually make it to the end the pay-off is divine - after killing the toons and defeating Satan the 'teens' are reprimanded by their returning parents for having a party in the house and trashing the place.

Beautiful.

Well someone must have thought so seeing as there are 5, yes 5, sequels.


Fuck I'm going to be busy over Christmas.

















































*Who as an interesting aside used to be able to fist her own mouth but unfortunately can't anymore because she's had her wisdom teeth removed.



Sunday, October 29, 2017

ghana no do that.


Todays 31 days of horror treat starts with a wee true story you see scarily I actually left the house this week (Friday actually)*, which meant having to brave public transport (Glasgow becomes a wee bit New Barbarians come the weekend).

Whilst waiting patiently for the train to Innsmouth (OK Edinburgh but it's much of a muchness) I couldn't help - well I could but I'm nosy - but notice a hideously middle class, born again Christian couple discussing how they spend their holidays in Ghana (that's near Europe I think) handing over bags of old clothes to the locals whilst posing for photo's in a condescending manner whilst no doubt imagining that they're Brad and Angelina.

Some moderate Christians yesterday.



After hearing how poor and how grateful the locals are for the visits from the concerned western folk and how God helps them survive their pointless and dusty lives (plus how luxurious the local hotel complex they stay in is) I realized that not once had either of them even mentioned Ghana's burgeoning horror film industry.

Now pay attention, here's the science part.

Not long after the (non literal) home video explosion of the early eighties and the reduction (relatively) in price of home recording equipment and portable cameras (which gave birth - not like Splice so stop panicking - to the mobile cinema phenomena in a number of West African countries), the African film industry jumped at the chance to produce affordable (re: dirt cheap) movies with a local theme aimed squarely at the home market, taking in themes such as devout Christianity, gangsters, devout Christianity, possession, people trafficking, devout Christianity, police corruption, devout Christianity and fat ladies waving their arms about whilst crying.

Oh, and did I mention that the majority of the movies feature at least a wee bit of devout Christianity?

"Not more bloody foreigners with
their second hand football strips!"



And one of the most successful films in what shall now be called the
Ghanian 'Godly Horror' genre is C'Emeka Uba's Abro Ne Bayie.

A film so terrifying that it had to be split into two parts!

Enjoy.

Tho' don't expect too much seeing as half the dialogue and the credits are in Twi, a language that we failed to cover at The Dormston School.

Damn you teachers!



Abro Ne Bayie.
Dir: C'Emeka Uba.
Cast: Anita Acheampong and some other people.

Hunky, grey suited and shiny of shoed Vincent Opoku (apparently portrayed by Ghana's very own Wickey Will Smith) is a successful businessman and devout Christian (told you) with everything to look forward to in life.

He's rich in both monetary terms and his love for God, has a really hot (and incredibly bootylicious) fiancée named Brenda and a really nice car that isn't pulled by a donkey.

But his perfect life is about to take a nasty turn for the (supernatural) worse tho' seeing as his massive headed mum Dufie (not the Welsh singer) has made a pact to deliver her son's eternal soul to the Satanic underworld in return for a new dress and some cha-cha heels.


"Ah fell aff mah beanstalk Ian!"



Her plan to achieve sartorial ecstasy involves persuading poor Vincent to fall out with Brenda and start dating the black clad (and even more bootylicious if that's humanly possible) Natasha, who in reality is an evil sex demon in human form.

So he has the choice between the attractive yet staid Brenda, who even tuts at the thought of kissing before marriage or a leather clad, very dirty pillowed nymphomaniac she creature from Hell who gives out on a first date.

Hmmmm.....tricky choice.


Natasha: up the casino.



Within, oh minutes, Vincent is totally under Natasha's spell with her promises of letting him bite her in the back of his motor and a quick touch of her baps (chicken), leaving poor Brenda crying into her Pot Noodle and his evil mum organizing a dinner dance (with Bingo) to reveal her new look.

Can anyone save Vincent (and his soul) from an eternity of forced and meaningless hot sweaty sex?

Luckily for Vincent (depends on your definition of luck tho' doesn't it?) his dad Tony and the local priest, Father Dennis Kwabina are ready to take on the hordes of Hell in an attempt to save Vincent's very soul....

And his reputation as a good boy.

If any photo ever deserved the caption "Laugh now!" it's this one.



Clocking in at an arse numbing two and a half hours, Abro Ne Bayie may be cruder than your Grannie on Meth, shot as it is in harsh natural light with a bunch of non-actors obviously rounded up at the local job centre and effects achieved on an old Amiga, it might be cheap but none of this stops it being bloody enjoyable.

But the greatest (and most refreshing) thing about Abro Ne Bayie is despite the films budgetary shortcomings the theme of demonic possession and temptation is played in such a deep and serious manner.

Almost as if this were a public information documentary on the evils of Satan.

And frankly, if I've got the choice between the ultimate evil looking like Linda Blair masturbating with a crucifix whilst Max Von Sydow wets himself over a big stone dog or the Devil and his minions on show here - some chubby bloke in a second hand Jedi cloak wearing a novelty old man mask from the market, a child in a skeleton suit, covered in facepaint with a plastic horn staple to his head and a really fat person covered in what looks like fresh cow shite in a Dolly Parton wig - I know which I'd pick.

Plus I reckon naughty Natasha would be worth it.

Just remember to get your Tetanus jag first.

"Shite in mah mooth!"



If only half of Hollywood's output was this entertaining (and had as many shaved small boys in facepaint throw around rooms by Vicars) then the world would be a much better place.

Tho' as a downside the thought of every major film using (the free demo of) Adobe Premiere's Eye Candy for their special effects is kinda disconcerting.

But that's a chance I'm willing to take.

Who's with me?










































*So thinking about it this should have really been Fridays film so it's almost like I've sent the reader back in time....or I've been that busy I didn't get round to writing this till today.....maybe I should have done it yesterday to avoid confusion.