Sunday, November 7, 2010

snatch of the day.

Il Bosco 1 (AKA Evil Clutch. 1989).
Dir: Andreas Marfori.
Cast: The yumsome Coralina Cataldi-Tassoni, Diego Ribon, Luciano Crovato, Elena Cantarone and Stefano Molinari.

The nightmare that grabs you where you least expect it...Ipswich (possibly).


somewhere in a field in Europe (it's a small place) young master Terry Soontodie (what looks like a junked up Mark Hamill) is walking home from his job at Kwik Fit (he's still in his overalls bless).

Hearing a noise from the local church Terry decides to investigate and is surprised to find a young(er) Maureen Lipman sitting open legged next to a fountain.

Meow.

Being a hot blooded male (and obviously a fan of those old BT ads) Terry does what we'd all do and dives in for a wee bit of the sex.

And all this within the first seven minutes.

Blimey.

Unfortunately (for him and us) at the moment of climax young(ish) Maureen transforms into a pale faced, pointy toothed pikey and slaughters poor Terry.

Ouch.

Meanwhile back at the plot good and proper where pube haired Italian stud muffin Tony (Ribon best known for his performance as Bartolotto in De Gasperi, l'uomo della speranza) and his incredibly sexy (in a kinda eighties way) girlfriend Cindy (the second hottest actress in Italian cinema Coralina Tassoni) are enjoying a romantic city break in Venice, or they would be if they both didn't have an unnatural fear of water.

And Cornetto's.

Reckoning a wee change of scenery might just save the holiday from disaster the couple decide to pack up their stuff and go camping in the Alps instead but as is always the way with these things (holidays and Italian horror movies) the lovers leisurely drive into the mountains is rudely interrupted by the appearance of a frighteningly harsh faced woman named Arva (Year of The Gun's Cantarone) running along the roadside.

Cataldi-Tassoni: truly scrumptious.

Being a gentleman (well, smooth creep) Tony pulls over to offer assistance (and an excuse to pose with his hairy arm out of the window) to Arva, who claims she was almost bummed by a bin man in a nearby cemetery.

Feeling all manly Tony offers to check out the graveyard but can find no sign of any bin men or signs of bumming, tho' the place does give him a distinctly strange sensation in his pants.

Trying not to think about it too much Tony heads back to the car and offers to drop Arva off at the nearest (bin free) village, the mysteriously named Spent, a quiet local place know for it's luxurious bowling greens, traditional ice cream shop and friendly neighbourhood nutter; the amusingly monikered Algernoon (House of Pleasure for Women's Crovato) a retired, cancer riddled horror writer with a really high pitched electronic voice box.

Obviously the wooden handed dwarf leper was busy that day.

Clad only in a soiled raincoat and Panzer commander goggles, Algernoon spends his days riding around the town on a moped scaring the children.

And Arva by the looks of things seeing as soon as she sets sight on him she visibly shites herself and legs it into the bushes.

"Is it in yet?"

For some inexplicable reason best known to the script writers, Tony and Cindy decide it'd be really cool to hang out with him during their stay in the village and Algernoon, happy to finally have some company other than his pubic lice gives the lovers his fairly famous (and patented) guided tour of the town cum spooky ghost walk.

Kinda like a cut rate Derek Acorah crossed with a market stall speaking clock.

But less piss and shame stained obviously.

You see according to legend the outlying woods are said to be haunted by a scary sex demon who threatens to shag to death anyone foolish enough to venture outside the relative safety of the town.

Which is nice.

Derek Acorah after offering to be my 'custard cousin' not long after seducing recently widowed grandmother who'd seen his show at the SECC  Glasgow.

Understandably freaked out by such a terrifying tale (but more likely by Algernoon's voice) our delectable duo make their farewells and leave, hoping to save at least a smidgen of the romantic holiday they've waited all year for.

Driving out of town the pair notice how inviting the aforementioned woods look and soon pull over, quickly unloading their tent and stuff before heading into the trees to search for the local camp site.

But guess who's waiting for them at the picnic bench?

"Laugh now!"

Yup it's Algernoon, standing around in his pants and muttering something about dead sheep and filthy anuses.

At least I think that's what he was saying.

Cindy seems to be taking less notice of him than me tho' because no sooner has the mouldy mentalist opened his mouth than Cindy starts to angrily shout at him to sod right off and leave them alone, which he politely does leaving the pair to trot off into the undergrowth.

After wandering aimlessly for what seems like hours the couple then bump into Arva again (are she and Algernoon the only people that live in the town? Answers on a postcard please) but luckily tho' this time there are no randy rubbish collectors in sight.

Which is a blessing frankly.

Anyway, as a thank you for helping her out earlier that day Arva offers to show Tony and Cindy an abandoned church nearby that'd be a perfect pplace to spend the night.

Uh oh...sounds familiar.

After dumping their load on the steps and unrolling the extra large sleeping bag (specially made for Tony's ego), Cindy decides to step outside and watch the sunset to get herself in a romantic frame of mind in preparation for the damn good rogering she's expecting later.

Arva tho' has other idea's, hinting to Tony that she quite fancies snorting cocaine from between Cindy's butticks whilst Tony does them both.

Up the arse obviously.

"Where's me washboard?"

Tony, being a red blooded Italian male is more than up for a wee bit of group sex but he knows that Cindy may take a little convincing.

Especially when she discovers that Arva is, in fact, the infamous sex demon mentioned earlier.

An infamous sex demon with a hairy, three-fingered claw growing out of her vagina.

And a zombie helper out for blood...

"Shite in mah mooth!"

From the international man of mystery that is Andreas Marfori, the genius who would later think the unthinkable and team Traci Lords, Denise Crosby and the former Mr. Olympia winner Franco Columbo in the erotic thriller Il ritmo del silenzio comes this blatant plundering (OK, I'll be kind, loving homage) to Sam Raimi's classic The Evil Dead that manages to be not only cheaper than the original but also a lot less sexy.

Which is fairly difficult for a film with a horny succubus for a villain.

All the hallmarks of Raimi's movie; from a deserted house to a barrage of off-kilter 'shakycam' shots are present and correct, all that's missing is a halfway decent plot and any noticeable talent from anyone involved.

Even the usually fantastic Coralina Cataldi-Tassoni looks bored as she's made to wander around the directors garden in clothes that would make Cyndi Lauper puke.

There should really be a law against that.


Meow.

The most unforgivable crime the film commits tho' is the serious lack of potential victims on screen, meaning that Marfori has to pad out the majority of the movie's scant running time with endless scenes of people wandering around aimlessly looking for something interesting to do.

Luckily the film ups it's pace (and gore content) in the last thirty minutes with a mix of exploding heads, deadly fanny based shenanigans and in one particularly memorable scene has dear Coralina being chased by a zombie wielding a fishing rod.

Which must count for something.

Mustn't it?

No comments: