Saturday, October 9, 2010

jacked straw.

Here it is, the review that refused to die (or stay in one place).

After finally replacing my worn out (tho' only at bits featuring Udo Kier obviously) tape copy with a shiny DVD version (albeit sourced from the same old grainy VHS copy, you can't win them all) news has hit that the remake is not only finished but premiering in good old Glasgow at the end of the month.

But with the great man himself replaced by, gulp, a woman (Emmerdale's Anna Brecon) we can but wait and see how it all turns out.

Review to be posted as soon as I get in on the morning of the 25th.

Providing I can still see at that point.

Till then, enjoy!

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

Insert cock here.


Needing help to unlock his story muse (and reckoning the audience deserve to see someone a wee bit more attractive than an average Granny wandering around with her kit off) Paul arranges for his publishers to send a no nonsense secretary, Linda (the naughtiest nymphet ever seen in British horror, the incredibly arsed Hayden) to assist him with his, um, writing.

Meeting Paul at the local train station, it's not long before Linda's ample charms are spotted by a couple of local troublemakers - including the star of Brit shit-com Brush Strokes Karl Howman - who start shouting suggestive and downright dirty things at her.

The filthy louts.

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

Hayden: Paddington but not yet bare (arsed).


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

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

A big, greasy pork sausage.

Where could it be?

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

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


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

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

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

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

Very roughly indeed.

And at gunpoint.

But not, alas shite in her mooth.

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


Controversially Linda appears to be enjoying the rough buggery until she grabs the shotgun and shoots both her assailants that is.

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

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

Yeah, like that would ever happen.

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

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

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

What your nan really gets up to at bingo.


Coming to his senses (but not before coming over Suzanne's monkey-like face) Paul gives chase– giving ample opportunity for Linda to sneak back into the house for an intense bit of girl on gran action with Suzanne.

In a bizarre piece of post sex fun, Linda follows Suzanne into the bathroom and sticks a huge knife in her.

Five times.

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

You still would tho'.

Udo: We Kier a lot.


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

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

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

Will she succeed?

Or will our plagiarist playboy escape unscathed?



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

Ther film is as bizarre behind the scenes as it is in front of it, produced as it was by Brian Smedley-Aston (the man behind Vampyres, Let's Get Laid, the Brigitte Lahaie starrer Erotica and the little seen The Wildcats of St. Trinian's) and financed by British porn baron Paul Raymond as a star vehicle for his then partner Fiona Richmond who was, at the time Britain's biggest sex star.

Not too surprising then that the film veers uncomfortably between scenes of full frontal nudity and hard core violence in a schizophrenic attempt to appease both the dirty Mac crowd and those wanting more visceral thrills from their movies, failing to fully deliver to either and falling uncomfortably between the two stools of sleaze and suspense.

The sexiest movie poster of all time?


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

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

You young things with your Megan Fox and your Danielle Panabaker's really have no idea.


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


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

For those under the spell of this man the movie is the Holy Grail, unavailable since the heyday of VHS we can only hope that someone will see fit to release this queer old beast of a movie on disc as an ill advised attempt to cash in on the new version.

If my cardboard Intervision case can last that long.

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