Sunday, November 6, 2016

ursula undress.

Been busy catching up on American Horror Story (good again this year), Ash vs Evil Dead (genius) and The Exorcist (surprisingly very good) but also completing some work for the fantastic Cine-Excess festival (alas no they're not showing Evil Bod, maybe next year) so not had much time to watch any shite movies of late.

Tho' after October that may be a good thing for my mental health and general wellbeing.

Saying that I did spend yesterday re-aligning my movie shelves with a ruler (what can I say? It's an Aspie thing) and found that this beauty had fallen down the back of the sofa.

Less mondo and more macho than many other entries in the Italian cannibal cycle, I thought I'd give it another whirl seeing as I'd not watched it for an age.

I also happen to be married to one of its biggest fans, so the review may be nice and non-bitchy seeing as I don't want to sleep in the shed tonight.

Montagna Del Dio Cannibale (AKA Mountain of The Cannibal God, Primitive Desires, Slave of the Cannibal God, Prisoner of the Cannibal God. 1978)
Dir: Sergio Martino.
Cast: Ursula Andress, Stacy Keach, Franco Fantasia, Antonio Marsina, Claudio Cassinelli and some gypsies.



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A foreign film poster yesterday.



Busty businesswoman Susan Stevenson (Andress, obviously slumming it to pay her monthly Botox - but alas not bollocks - bill) has recently arrived in Pakistan to look for her explorer husband Henry and, more importantly, to stock up on duty free fags and booze.

It seems that while on an expedition in New Guinea, her hubbie took a wrong turn whilst out looking for the local post office and hasn't been seen since.

Aided by her sleazy (and overtly camp) brother Arthur (star of the classic Demons 6 Marsina, looking frighteningly like Frasier's Niles Crane if addicted to crack and/or cock) poor Susan has spent the last few days begging various government officials to lead a rescue party into the jungle, but all refuse.

Bastards.

Giving the Pakistani government a huge "Fuck you!" the super siblings decide to plan their own expedition and hire the oh so slightly tipsy Edward Foster (mustachioed muffin magnet Keach needing to buy his ex-wife a new house), an old colleague of her husbands to lead it.

Always the gentleman, he explains to the sultry Susan (and to the viewer at home) that it's more than likely that Henry isn't lost in the New Guinea jungle at all and that he probably got on the wrong night-bus, ending up on the island of Roku, home of the Puka tribe, a tiny pant wearing group who spend most of their time showing off their arses to all and sundry whilst worshiping a 'cursed' mountain.

Foster is sure there's something else quite important about the tribe but can't remember what it is.

No doubt it'll come back to him later.


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Antonio Marsina wonders who stole his arm.


Filling their rucksacks with fizzy pop, crisps and egg and cress sandwiches our heroic trio, along with a non entities and locals obviously marked for death, head into the jungle encountering stock footage, sweaty palms and various displays of plot driving character motivation along the way.

Three days - and six bottles of J&B - into the journey Foster remembers what it was that he was meant to tell everyone.

You see it transpires that a few years back he visited Ra-Rami island and held captive by the Puka who, it transpires, are actually a group of vicious, hairy palmed cannibals who forced the poor guy to partake in the devouring of human flesh!

Gah indeed.

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"Stop!......Keach time!"


Finally arriving on the island (damn those private taxis), they set up camp with the kindly Father Moses (Disney classic Fantasia) and his hunky 'friend' Manolo (the late great genre god Cassinelli), who within minutes of setting eyes on Ursula, is rolling about on the dusty floor of a grass hut with her, kneading her ample breasts like so much sweaty dough as she bites her lip in that mildly erotic way that only women of a certain age can.

Trust me, I've seen your mom do it enough times.

Not wanting to miss out on the chance of any more ex-Bond bird bonking, Manolo offers to accompany them on their quest for the missing hubby.

Perhaps he fancies a threesome?

After a series of high octane jungle trekking excitements (spiders up your trouser leg, snakes in your pants etc.) and a wee bit of highly dangerous white-water canoing that ends with Foster (well a shoddy facsimile made from a beetroot and some old rags) falling to his death, they find the holy cave of the Puka tribe.

A cave packed with Uranium.

Hmmm.....could this be the real motive behind Stevensons' visit to Ra-Rami?

Or was it really for the cheap drink and whorish teens?

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"I could drink you under the table Ursula."


Manolo and Arthur's manly hugs and cries of "We're rich! We're rich!" and Susan's sexy dancing are short lived however as the Puka's launch a surprise attack from the trees like an army of less hairy (yet probably much smellier) Ewoks and, after sticking a sharpened stick up Arthur's (frankly accommodating) arse, take the survivors to their mountain hideaway where Susan is (fairly) surprised to find that her husband is now revered as a God.

Which would be pretty cool for him if he wasn't a rotting buck toothed corpse with a clicking Geiger counter rammed into his chest cavity.

well at least Manolo is happy. 

Susan however has another surprise heading her way.

It seems that long legged, stunningly breasted blonde bombshells are few and far between in the jungle (a wee bit like finding a virgin in Wolverhampton) so the Puka, being rational types, decide that she must be a Goddess sent to them from the heavens.

And what do you do with visiting deities?

Why you strip them naked, cover them head to toe in clay (making sure you do it in lingering, free handed slow motion), get a couple of fairly attractive (and ample bottomed) native lasses to fondle her breasts before finally dressing your religious visitor in a big paper hat ready to partake in a bizarro ritual.

Or three.

Will Susan escape unmolested?

Will Manolo and his trusty beard save the day?

And will Arthur ever recover from his new found appreciation of anal violation?



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"Touch mah titties hen!": your mum 
and your girlfriend yesterday.




From Sir Sergio of Martino (director of Suspected Death of A Minor, Gambling City and The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh) Mountain of The Cannibal God is probably the nearest thing to a classy cannibal film, a (fairly) expensive and slightly more legit relative of the late seventies/early eighties cannibal cycle, featuring as it does an international 'name' cast, a more action/adventure oriented plot and fewer scenes of graphic animal mutilation.

The ones that are killed onscreen are ugly things like spiders and snakes so that doesn't count.

But more importantly it features absolutely no Mel Ferrer what so ever.

To folk like me tho' it's best known for featuring a dwarf cannibal tribesman, the first (and possibly only) one ever committed to celluloid.

Surely the best reason (if anymore were needed) to buy this movie.


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"I fell off my beanstalk Ian!"


The Keach-man gives it his all, as does the late great Claudio Cassinelli, the pair of them igniting the screen with pure, unadulterated testosterone.

Antonio (star of Antonio Margheriti's gritty Vietnam war epic Tornado) Marsina is great as the slightly fey sibling of Swiss bombshell Ursula Andress whilst Andress herself adds a certain air of legitimacy to the scenes that call for her to be slowly daubed in mud by topless female extras.

I've viewed this scene time and again (for research purpose) and not once does Andress look anything other than absolutely terrified.

Tho' it may be boredom, I was slightly distracted.

Go on, buy it.....you know you want to.

And if you end up not enjoying it at least you've found a costume for your nan come next Halloween.


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