Tuesday, November 29, 2011
The Young Apprentice's answer to Mary Harron, Ms. Zara Brownless.
*To be honest it was a hard choice between Ms. Brownless and the fiery redhead Lizzie Magee but the Tron style white dress swung it.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
Director: Bruno Mattei
Starring: Richard Raymond, Alex McBride, Richard Cross, Moune Duvivier, Henry Luciani, Cristoph Bretner, Ann-Gisel Glass and the fantastic Geretta Geretta.
It is the year is 225 A.B. (the A.B. stands for either after the bomb or absolute bollocks, take yer pick.) and the world as we know it has gone forever.
Well, a bit of it just outside Rome.
But luckily humanity survived by retreating underground to wait out the ecological crisis that undoubtedly followed.
Tho' we wont get to see that because it'd be way too expensive.
Unfortunately an argument over whose turn it was to wash up causes a major split amongst the survivors, forcing a small band tp return to the planet's surface to live as 'scavengers', roaming the barren wasteland like a community centre panto version of Mad Max, searching for food, fuel, Fairy liquid (those dishes wont do themselves) and - from the look of them - an 80's Top Shop's to stock up on legwarmers, day-glo eyeshadow and zippered, rising sun t-shirts.
The others must have just stayed inside watching reruns of Jeremy Kyle or something.
What they find inside is beyond their wildest dreams tho'; boxes of fresh food, some porn, boxes of tissues, a big water purifier in the basement and a hydroponic nursery.
Shelter, food, fresh water and top shelf wanking material - everything they need to survive.
Cue a few scenes of slightly uncomfortable food-porn that includes a scruffy middle aged beardie man pouring sugar into his mouth and eyes exclaiming "Sugar!" and Kurt munching a bag of flour shouting "Yum! flour!" before emptying the rest of the bag over the exquisite Chocolate (horror goddess and all round superstar Geretta Geretta).
A scene worth rewatching just to admire possibly the worlds greatest genre actress (and part-time Amazon) in action.
Jenny Spoon, the token anorexic of the group, bored with watching her pals play hide the sausage (literally) notices that a freshly laundered bed in the corner of the hi-tech dining room is mysteriously moving and heads over to investigate.
Tho' I'd be more concerned with why someone would pop a bed in their dining room if I'm honest.
Slowly easing her way toward the bed with her dirty, shaking skeletal fingers stretched out like someone's Nan attempting a birthday hand job, she's surprised to find that beneath the clean, and soft Postman Pat blankets lies a putrefying corpse.
With dozens of rats gnawing at the bones!
The half chewed body in the bed or the fact that it appears that the rats must of attacked this man as he slept, then pulled the covers up and made the bed in an attempt to play an hilarious Jeremy Beadle style prank on the next people to turn up?
It's great to know that even after a nuclear holocaust that peoples priorities are still right.
Anyway, before settling down for a good nights kip (not a night of terror- with rats - we hope) the criminally camp technology egghead Vic Video (Il capo dei capi's Gianni Franco AKA Richard Cross) lives up to his moniker by finding the buildings light switches.
After first accidentally starting an 'eliminate intruders' program obviously.
And with that the group settle down to bed.
As the air is filled with the dulcet sounds of snores and farts, ball headed bad boy Barry Lucifer (star of the hit teevee series Cas de divorce's Bretner) and his scarily googly eyed girlfriend Lilith (Duvivier), overcome with passion start having 'the sex' in a cosy double sleeping bag in the corner.
And they say romance is dead.
Luckily for all the folk trying to get a good nights kip (and for us if I'm honest) the zip in the bag sticks before Lucifer (as he so romantically puts it) can "blast off baby!" leaving the horny devil to stomp off to the bar to drown his sorrows.
And no doubt choke his chicken.
|"Is it in yet?"|
Lucifer meanwhile is still boozing away and shouting at random objects when he comically falls down an open manhole whilst trying to avoid a banana skin and as he tries in vain to hoist himself up is suddenly jumped on by hundreds of hungry rats intent on stealing his wallet.
Kurt and company startled awake by cries of "Aaarrrghhh! rats!" are even more surprised to find Lilith lying stiff as a board in her sleeping bag.
Surmising that Lucifer must have strangled her at the height of passion our merry mentalists decide to find him and hopefully the truth regarding lanky Lil's death.
But as they're about to leave, Lilith's body begins to convulse and shake (pretty much like my Auntie when she had a stroke, just not as arousing) as a rat suddenly emerges from her mouth!
"Maybe it wasn't Lucifer after all" Chocolate guesses.
Finding all this rodent based carnage a bit much to deal with this early in the morning, the gang decide to head for the bikes and get the hell out of Dodge (as they say) only to find that the rats have scoffed all the tires.
This leaves Kurt in a difficult position.
A. Leave/carry the bikes and run away from town and from the killer rats?
B. Go back into the (killer rat infested) building, board themselves in (with the rats) and wait till morning to leave (when the rats are asleep obviously)?
Yup they decide to leg it out of town.
No not really, they actually go back inside and hurriedly board up every window.
Save the one the rats will no doubt attack thru' later of course.
One by one the gang are outsmarted by the rats, the older Chuck Norris/George Eastman alike is attacked in the hydroponics (painful), one gets a few wee bites and has a flamethrower taken to him (which is a bit extreme really) and blonde bombshell and former Italian Playboy Playmate of the month (September 1978) Cindy Leadbetter gets nibbled on whilst standing at that unsealed window (doh) and goes a wee bit potty.
As if the night (of terror) couldn't get any worse, sweaty pudding headed chubster Duke (Erotic Games star Luciani) has decided that he wants to take control of what's left of the gang, pushing his chest out and scowling "I could do that better! You Smell!" etc. in Kurt's general direction at the most inopportune of moments.
This testosterone fuelled angriness and general unpleasant behavior culminates in him kidnapping permanently slack jawed Myrna (Ann-Gisel Glass, now a major French TV star who surprisingly doesn't actually list this movie on her agents website and denies all knowledge of it if you send her the DVD to get signed) before threating to steal the groups one remaining vehicle.
It wont come as too much of a surprise to anyone watching that the car in question is full of rats so Duke calmly decides to clear them out by dropping a hand grenade on them.
Fair enough it kills all the rats but unfortunately also kills himself and Myrna instantly.
If not sooner, proving his leadership skills weren't up to much after all.
Whilst all this drama is going down, Diane has decided to wander off in a sulk after catching sight of the woeful make up job she has and after screaming "I wont let you eat me!" (which raised a snigger here at least) slashes her wrists.
She's not really thought this thru' tho' as no doubt the rats will probably still gobble her up anyway, it's not like they're fussy eaters.
Now it's down to Chocolate, a bald man whose name escapes me and Video to save the day.
Frankly I reckon they're screwed.
give clues to the films shock ending.
It takes a special kind of person to even consider mixing such diverse influences as Mad Max, The Muppet Movie and Willard, let alone to actually go ahead and make such an entertaining movie out of them.
Swings and roundabouts really.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
A bad month for movies in general this month with the passing of square jawed tough guy and Russ Meyer stalwart Charles Napier, Wicker Man witch Diane Cilento as well as friend of William Castle and star of Unknown World Marilyn Nash.
October also saw the deaths of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan's Lieutenant Commander Beach Paul Kent, Inspector Wexford himself George Baker, Coronation Street hot pot queen Betty Driver, Crossroads hottie Sue Lloyd and Eraserhead and Article 99 thesp. T. Max Graham.
Beyond the world of stage and screen last month also saw the deaths of Yoiko no Mokushiroku writer/artist Kei Aoyama alongside masked Mexican professional wrestler Doctor X.
But by far the saddest death last month was of actor, singer, song writer and all round nice guy David Hess.
We'll miss you bud.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
The Human Centipede 2: Full Sequence (2011).
Dir: Tom Six.
Cast: Laurence R. Harvey, Ashlynn Yennie, Vivien Bridson, Maddi Black, Bill Hutchens and a shit load of folk from the Islington job centre.
|"Great blow job but I'd rather be fucking that retards arse".|
Add to his troubles a habit of poohing the bed, a weirdy-beardy psychiatrist (Hutchens) who's more interested in sucking his cock than soothing his pain and a pair of nipples like hairy plates and you can see that poor Martin is one of life’s losers.
He probably even reads this blog.
Nah, he's not that sad.
|"I love you....could it be magic?"|
Anyway, back to the plot where Martin has decided that it might be a good idea to try and make a human centipede of his own using the various folk who use the parking garage as his test subjects.
Cue an hour of head smashing, knee-capping and baby bothering violence intercut with scenes of our bald pal getting felt up by the doc, his mum shouting at him and the aforementioned gay neighbour destroying the Lomax family dinner table.
Despite all these inconveniences tho' Martin bravely struggles on, even going as far as phoning the actors from the first film in an attempt to lure them to London for a 'special show'.
And surprisingly one of them, the pointy of face yet smooth of thighed Ashlynn Yennie, actually turns up.
|Posh and Becks: the Vimto years.|
But before our beautiful Hollywood starlet can become the main attraction in Martin's scientific wonder there's still the small matter of killing his mum to deal with.
I mean come on, she did rip up his Human Centipede scrapbook and tell him he stank of shit.
With mum out of the way, Ashlynn tied up in a warehouse alongside all his other 'volunteers' and the noisy neighbour in the back of his van Martin is finally ready to make medical history.
|"Shite in...well someone elses mooth I guess".|
|He's got something to put in you.|
Using a handy staple gun to attach each of his victims face to the person in fronts arse, Martin chooses Yennie to be the acceptable face of this new and improved human centipede, partly so her make-up wont be ruined by the constant mooth shite-ing but mainly because she's by far the most attractive member of the cast.
After much prodding, poking and pissing Martin, clad in a labcoat and with his obvious erection barely kept under control in his shit stained underpants, can finally marvel at his creation as it stumbles around the room making gurgling and farting noises.
But something - and it's not the self respect on the part of anyone involved surprisingly - is missing.
Yup, you've guessed it; no-one has started shite-ing in each others mooths yet.
But not to worry because Martin has come prepared.
And no doubt in his pants.
You see, right after feeding Ashlynn some tasty tomato soup and tinned peaches, Martin quickly forces a family sized bottle of quick acting laxative down her pretty tanned throat, causing each member of the centipede to violently evacuated their bowels into the mooth of the person behind them.
The length of the chain also gives our medical mentalist time to wrap his throbbing member in barbed wire, run to the end of the centipede and violently rape the last person in lines filth covered arse thru' a sea of ever flowing shit.
As you would in that situation.
As is always the way with these things, everything is going swimmingly (shittingly?) until one of the centipede parts spoils everyone’s fun by choking to death leaving Martin in tears and a tarpaulin covered pregnant woman, whom he thought was dead, time to suddenly regain consciousness and run screaming to Martins minivan.
With Martin distracted the centipede breaks into two and attempts to escape whilst our poor, misguided mad man stands confused not sure whether to chase the mum to be or regain control of his creation.
As the situation escalates from nutty to fruit loops a tiny bit of poo drops from Martins bottom.
Will our hero calm the centipede?
Will our escapee accidentally crush her newborn baby whilst trying to find reverse in a strange motor?
Will anyone live to tell the tale?
And if so, how are they gonna explain it to my nan?
Hopefully it wont turn out to be just a dream...
Or will it?
Anyways, jealousy aside I didn't Tom Six did, it caused a wee bit of controversy before released before finally opening to a loud "Wuh?" and much viewer apathy.
Because frankly we only get upset by fox hunting bans and people lighting upg in non-smoking areas in the UK.
Dunkirk spirit and all that.
But that wasn't enough to stop our cowboy hatted pal from unleashing a sequel onto an unsuspecting world and upsetting the mighty BBFC in the process who regarded the film as being "sexually violent" as well as possibly being in breach of the Obscene Publications Act.
Demanding 32 cuts (totalling 2 minutes and 37 seconds) before granting it a certificate the film is is finally with us and despite losing some references to sandpaper aided masturbation, forced mooth shite-ing and newborn baby crushing the movie still manages to be the funniest, most hellzaboppin' comedy I've seen since Cannon and Ball's one and only big screen outing The Boys in Blue.
|"Rock on Tommy! There's mooth shite-in about!"|
I mean, where do you begin when summing up such genius?
The acting, as mentioned before is excruciating to watch but perfectly pitched, giving a spot on portrayal of the kind of performances usually seen in this type of movie.
Special mention has to be given to the neighbour who's delivery of lines like "I'll play my fahkin music as loud as I like you fahkin retard!" are so stiltedly delivered, his walk so laboured as to give his scenes an almost cinéma vérité feel seldom seen in the modern horror genre.
Every shot, every action, every scene of the film is so recognisable and so clichéd that to see them de-constructed then presented back to us in such a perfectly re-rendered way is mind blowing in it's simplicity.
Never has the idea of the metanarrative been so successfully used before now in an attempt to actually fuse the audience members (as it were) into the story telling technique. Our knowledge and appreciation of the differences between good and bad cinema have never been so fully utilised by a director before, making us as much a part of the story as Martin or even the mooth shite-in.
Jean-François Lyotard would be wanking himself silly in his grave at the thought of it.
If he still had a cock obviously.
But is that so surprising for a wonderfully metaphorical work such as this?
I think not.
Unfortunately it seems that precious few of the folk who'd actually appreciate all this meta-textual bollocks have been arsed going to see it.
And rather than come out and agree with me, Tom Six seems to be staying silent.
I mean at this rate the whole point is gonna be lost and I'm going to end up looking like an arse who's been duped into reading way too much into something that in reality has very little cultural or cinematic worth other than to shock.
And don't you just hate it when that happens?
|Lyotard: Clever clogs. And French.|
*For those of you outside the UK the Daily Mail is a British 'news' paper written exclusively by, and for ex-Nazi's and their families. Famously pro-Hitler during the 40's, latter day classic cuts include advocating abortions for babies with Autism, describing Stephen Gately's death as a little sleazy due to him being gay and that every crime and benefit fraud in the country is committed by 'Johnny Foreigner', who even tho' has been welcomed into our country with open arms refuses blankly to turn his skin white.
And that's just articles by Jan Moir.