Saturday, July 30, 2011

a true story.

 I was watching Zombieland.


Alone.


Matinee, about a week after it was released; I come early and find the perfect seat.


A couple others filter in, one person sits right behind me.


About halfway through the movie, I start to hear moaning from behind me.




Just keep watching the movie and eating my popcorn.




Bill Murray scene comes up.




Moaning increases behind me.




Bill Murray dies in the movie.




Moaning comes to a climax, jism hits my hair.




Turn around with a disgusted look on my face.




Bill Murray is looking at me, pants around his ankles, semi-erect penis in hand, dripping with semen.




He says “nobody will ever believe you.”




I turn back around and finish watching the movie.




It was fine, everything was fine.



Thursday, July 28, 2011

music to stalk girls by.

Here, as requested (possibly) is volume one of the Unwell summer slasher mix....annoy your neighbours and play LOUD.




Thursday, July 21, 2011

muerde.

More filthy foreign fun in comic form for your enjoyment.








Tuesday, July 19, 2011

plug.

For those of you who live near (and/or are rich/bored enough to travel) Saturday 13th August sees the mighty Grindhoose* opening it's jism sodden doors in sunny old Glasgow town.



Come (literally) along to The Old Hairdresser's that very evening and be transported back in time to late 70s/early 80s 42nd Street (that's New Yoik fact fans) to experience some of the trashiest, sleaziest and wild films ever to have graced the not-so-big-screen.

Some of them even featuring your mum.

The lovely Grindhoose gang will be screening two surprise films back-to-back alongside a full supporting feature, public service movies and crazy trailers.

There's even a bar downstairs selling various alcoholic drinks to help numb your pain plus on your arrival you will be escorted to your seats by the lovely usherettes, the Zombabes whilst a piss-stained old hobo makes you a balloon hat.

Expect to see anything from horror, Euro-sleaze, gialli, action, martial arts and revenge flicks.


Just don't expect to go home germ free.

And best of all it costs FUCK ALL to attend!

The queues have already started so book your seat Now or something.


*Grindhoose is an educational event designed to bring the look and feel of New York grindhouse cinema to the UK - all events are free and the films are screened as part of a private screening to any attendees of the event so screw you hellish copyright folk.

invitation to love.

Here's a quick write up of a couple of Australian movies I've stumbled across recently, both so entertaining that it's almost impossible for me to find any way of adding a 'laugh now' or 'shite in mah mooth' to the proceedings.

Hence the brevity of the reviews.

Sorry.

Lake Mungo (2009).
Dir. Joel Anderson.
Cast: Rosie Traynor, David Pledger, Martin Sharpe, Steve Jodrell and  Talia Zucker.

Alice kept secrets.She kept the fact that she kept secrets a secret.


First up Lake Mungo, a supposedly true-life (i.e. not at all) documentary chronicling the little known case of the Palmer family, just your average mum, dad and two kids whose lives are altered forever when their broody (but still fairly bouncy) sixteen-year-old daughter Alice (Zucker, Erin Perry from Neighbours) drowns mysteriously (and very wetly) whilst picnicking with her family.

Alice Palmer: Water sports with me.


Not long after the poor girls funeral, bizarre things begin to occur at the Palmer residence; strange noises can be heard around the house at night, Alice's bedroom door keeps mysteriously opening and closing and a little man in a red suit is seen dancing backwards around the lounge.

OK, perhaps not the last one.

Adding to the sense of unease, shock to fuck (in a kinda hot way) mum June (Traynor) has started having nightmares and can only sleep if she breaks into someone else's house whilst Alice’s brother, Matthew (Sharpe star of the fantastic Scooter: Secret Agent series) has discovered that all his photo's and videos have his sisters ghost in them.

Spooky.

Luckily for us dad Russell (teevee stalwart Pledger) remains calm and bedecked in a Crocodile Dundee style checked shirt throughout.


"Luckily I managed to scramble my way to the bank..."


Fearing for her sanity and unable to face the ever increasing pile of dirty shirts left by her hubbie June contacts the noted radio host cum psychic Ray Kemeny (sometime satellite array dish Jodrell), a paranormal specialist with a smart line in chunky knitwear.


Just imagine how much shite that mooth could hold.


As is the investigation begins to unfold, the family realise that their happy, fun-loving daughter led a darkly disturbing double life with enough secrets dark enough to put her American cousin Laura to shame and that even the softly spoken Matthew might not be all that he seems.

Not as much as this one did obviously.


As the mounting evidence and unearthed secrets continue to grow, the Palmer family find themselves leaving the safety and relative normality of suburbia for the otherworldly landscape that is Lake Mungo, a dried-up lake bed that Alice had once visited alongside her classmates.

What awaits them there will shake the Palmer's to their very core and leave them changed forever.

Jade Goody: The return.

One third The Last Broadcast, one third Twin Peaks and a third The Stone Tape, Joel Anderson's feature debut is a confident slow burner, relying on strong writing, honest acting and a fair amount of viewer love for classic David Lynch rather than blood scares and cheap tricks.

Which makes a nice change around here occasionally.

There's not much I can say for fear of spoiling one of the few genuinely creepy films of the past ten years except for see it before the obligatory American remake arrives.

Sharing the same basic 'mockumentary' premise as well as the same poster designer by the looks of things comes The Tunnel.

Billed as 'the viral movie of the year' by someone better paid (and very probably better looking) than me.



The Tunnel (2010).
Dir: Carlo Ledesma.
Cast: Bel Deliá, Andy Rodoreda, Steve Davis and Luke Arnold.

In order to alleviate Sydney's water shortage problem, local government types have come up with a plan to utilise the vast amount of derelict railway tunnels below the city to build a giantwater recycling facility even tho' this would upset all the poor homeless folk who allegedly live down there.

Uncaring wretches.

Suddenly, the project is shelved amid rumours of dozens of tramps (and a few hoodie wearing graffiti artists) disappearing down there, even though the official line is that no-one at all ever ventures down there.

Ever.

She thinks she's sweaty now but just wait till the arse whacking starts.


Enter (if I must) the mighty chinned and extremely dirty pillowed investigative journalist Natasha Warner (Deliá) who, reckoning that there's a story to be told (and awards to be won), heads down into the tunnels to discover the truth.

Unable to get a permit and desperate to make her mark, Natasha and her team; fellow hack Peter (Rodoreda), hunky cameraman Steve (ex snooker champ Davis) and soundman 'Tangles' (Arnold) sneak into the maze like underground network, laughing and joking as they go.

Before too long tho' our intrepid gang discover that there is indeed something down there, something that may not even be human.

But the worst is still to come.

Trapped in the labyrinthine tunnels without a proper map (or even sensible shoes) and hunted like tiny things that get hunted by big nasty things Steve informs everyone that the battery packs on the lights are running dangerously low.

And no-one has set the video for The Paul Hogan Show.

Peter O'Brien: The pasty years.

Whilst The Tunnel wont win any awards for originality, it's producers just might thanks to the unique way the film was financed and marketed.

Part funded by encouraging people to buy a frame of the movie for $1 and then releasing the finished product for free on various torrent sites, viewers were encouraged to try before they committed to buy the extras laden physical DVD release.

Which you have to admit is fairly smart.

Especially for Australians.

But what really puts The Tunnel in a different league to the majority of found footage or your average low budget indie flicks is how slickly made it is, rather than go the normal found footage route (bad edits, jumps and all) The Tunnel is sold to the viewer as a fully completed documentary even down to the fantastically realised credits and the composition of the interviews. Mix this with the clever use of outside video footage other than the crews camera (mainly from closed circuit television from various locations) and a dedicated, utterly believable cast (hats off to Davis especially) and you know you're onto something that's really special.

Noel Edmonds: Tunnel or funnel?


And whilst the set-up may be a wee bit more convoluted than the norm, it works well enough to get the characters involved in the fairly credible backstory and more importantly into the tunnels and into danger, building slowly on the tension whilst letting us get to know Natasha and her crew before cranking up the the atmosphere (and throwing in some pretty effective scares) for the films second half.

Yes the director is aware that we know who's going to die and what's going to happen in the end but it doesn't stop him from making the journey there such good, old fashioned scary fun and one of the best things to come out of Australia since Robin McLeavy's arse.


Monday, July 18, 2011

danger: diabolique.

Obviously John Philip Law's reading material of choice.




Wednesday, July 13, 2011

kure kure takura.

Octaman (1971).
Dir: Harry Essex.
Cast: Pier Angeli, Kerwin Matthews, Jeff Morrow, David Essex, some other folk I can't be arsed listing and a big octopus thing.



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Alien or Mutation...Man or Reptile...utter or Shite?
Suave suited yet scarily bewigged do-gooder ecologist Dr. Rick Torres (Kerwin 'Sinbad' Matthews) is busy researching radioactive pollution and stuff in and around the lakes of Mexico, which may sound pretty cool but is, in fact dead boring, you see he's descovered absolutely fuck all during the past six months except how to get rid of the symptoms of cock rot using only a bottle of Jack Daniels and a nail file.
 
Coming to the end of his studies our heroic doctor is fairly surprised when one morning when his science-type buddy turns up carrying a bucket containing an octopus with 'intelligent eyes'.

No idea what this means, sorry.
 
The geeky pair decide to spend the morning just staring at the freaky octopus thing lying in it's bucket, laughing as it tries to crawl out to the water then pushing it back in again (as men do) but their fun is curtailed by the arrival of Torres hot, pointy bra-ed girlfriend Susan (comeback queen and all round Italian 'bombshell' Angeli) who promptly suggests they let the nearby university take a look at it.

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"look into my eyes...not around
the eyes but into my eyes..."


Grabbing his jacket and the bucket Torres heads off to the university, leaving his science pal to find something else to poke (not Angeli unfortunately) which luckily for the plot is another, slightly bigger octo-thing that they come across (not literally mind) minding it's own business whilst sunbathing on a rock.

Returning to the lab, Torres geeky pals soon get bored with the old octopus in a bucket game so decide that it'd be much funnier to dissect this one instead.

Unbeknownst to them tho' the terrifying Octoman (or is that Octomum?) is watching ready to take revenge on mankind from the murky waters and into their lab.....


"Grrrraaaarrrrrr!"

After being greeted at the university with a resounding "Get to fuck that looks shit!" from the principal and having spent his entire grant on whores and paint stripper, Torres turns to his wealthy 'yee-haw!' rancher pal Johnny (Morrow) for the cash to examine the beast further.

Tho' I should point out it's not for Johnny Cash, obviously. Tho' the sight of the man in black battling an eight foot rubber octopus would be something to behold.

Johnny says "Hell yeah!" reckoning that an intelligent looking octopus would make a top rodeo attraction (?) and so they grab a few bottles of cheap brandy and head back to Torres lab.

On their arrival tho' they discover everyone has been slapped to death, the only evidence is the strange love bite like marks over their bodies...

Acquiring a taste for slapping humans, Octaman stumbles around the bushes for a few minutes looking for victims.

Before long he's (it's?) found a couple of guys from the local village who, in an act of drunken stupidity have caught yet another bog eyed octopus thing and popped it in a Tupperware container with thoughts of selling it to the local fish-monger.

Enraged at such a callous act Octaman kicks one of the poor men to death before tossing his companion off.

A cliff.
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"Grrrraaaarrrrrr!" (again).

It's not too long before Torres has figured out that every time someone puts an octopus in a bucket they invariably end up dead, so he decides to see if he can replicate the experiment's results without either the octopus or bucket.

I'd like to point out to anyone else confused that we still have no idea what this 'experiment' actually is, seeing as up till now all him and his mates appear to have done is poke the slimy buggers with a pen whilst wrinkling up their noses.

Octaman has other ideas tho' and after becoming scarily obsessed with happy slapping drunks, smashes thru' the window and delivering a few good back handers (tentaclers?) before grabbing Angeli and legging it off into the bushes.

The swine.
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Angeli: nipples like bullets.



Desperately trying to figure out what interest the Octaman could possibly have in the shapely, breathless Susan (tho' seeing as Angeli died of a massive drugs overdose a few weeks into shooting Octoman could possibly have been after a totally different type of crack), Torres decides it'd probably be best if they just rescued her.

This they do only to have the by now horny Octaman kidnap her again.

And again.

And again.

After the final rescue, terrific Torres reckons it'd be a good idea to make a circle of petrol around Octaman and set light to it, enabling him to "burn up all the oxygen around him!"

Which is nice.

So our heroes lie in wait for our multi-suckered chum to come a calling before hitting him on the head with a spade causing him to promptly faint in am embarrassingly rubberish heap.

Quickly tying the beast up in a fishing net Torres and co. crack open the booze and quickly start celebrating.

Unfortunately they end up drinking so much that Octoman manages to escape by hiding inside a giant cake after disguising himself as a kissagram.

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"Scarper it's the parkie!"



Getting a wee bit fed up with a big rubber monster taking the piss out of them, the gang decide to call it a day and drive back to the nearest town in order to sober up with a few cakes and a round or two of naked ping pong but the pesky Octaman has blocked the road with a tree (it's either a really big tree or a really small road).

Whilst everyone stands about scratching their heads (their own, not each others) friendly gringo Davido (singing star and latterly Eastenders hunk Essex) spots Octaman sniggering at them from behind a bush before getting bored and wobbling off into the distance.

Davido follows him to his spooky cave hide out and decides to fetch the others.

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"Sucky sucky? five dollah?"

Carefully exploring the cave our heroes seem surprised when Octaman pops out from behind a rock to confront them (it's almost as if they'd forgot why they were there in the first place) but  they're saved from his mighty bitch slapping skills by a convenient rock fall.

Phew.

However when the smoke clears Octaman has gone.

But our heroes are trapped!

Not to worry tho' cos Davido, being the hunky woodsman type and using only his chin, manages to tunnel his way to the surface breaking ground right next to their van (he's that good).

Helping the others out before dusting himself off , Davido runs to the backdoors in order to grab his shovel only for Octoman to jump out and start slapping everyone round the face before (yup, you guessed it) picking up Susan and legging it.

Again.

Yawn.

Tho' why he was in the van (was he possibly having a nap?) and how he opened the doors with those huge floppy tentacles is a mystery that's never explained.

Getting wise to all this tentacle touching terror and possibly getting fairly sick of having to pretend to enjoy getting her tits rubbed by a hoover pipe if her expression is anything to go, Susan has sneakily secreted a gun down her pants  and promptly shoots Octaman in the chest.

Catching up with the lovelorn (and junked up) pair the rest of the group join in the orgy of hot lead and hotter passions, stopping only when a bullet riddled Octaman staggers back to the lake to die.




 
From the man who wrote the screenplay to the greatest monster movie ever (The creature From The Black Lagoon fact fans) comes this Alzheimer's ridden old man misfire of a retread replacing the originals genuinely creepy creature suit, top drawer acting and ominous score with a mong-headed monstrosity resplendent with vacuum cleaner pipes, ping-pong balls and the biggest pair of cock-sucking lips this side of Nick Clegg (co-credited to Rick Baker, poor sod), bizarro stock footage pertaining to be of a Latin American fishing village yet showcasing shots of running cheetahs mixed to a frightening selection of 1960's porno quality library music courtesy of The Post Production Associates whoever or whatever they are.

With dialogue that never rises above the arse-clenchingly banal and read from cue cards by an either stoned or drunk cast of international has-beens and wannadies, Octoman wants to be a mature grown up study of ecological issues, standing at the bar lecturing all and sundry but ends up like some tarted up schoolie on her first night in the pub, drinking cheap sherry till she vomits over the barmaid before getting chucked out and buggered up a dirty condom strewed alley by her dad's best mate.

Fun to watch but you wouldn't want to be her doctor at her emergancy appointment.
 
Saying all that tho' it was originally made for TeeVee (allegedly) so perhaps we shouldn't asked for too much from it.

And definitely not it's phone number as you're doing up for imaginary zip in that back alley of the mind.

Monday, July 11, 2011

smash my picture!

...As top pop combo 'The' Prodigy sang on their hit number a few years back but to prove that feminist baiting beatings didn't begin with the brutish musing of Keith Flint (or even back in the sick exploitation world of the sleazy seventies) here are some examples of the type of top quality misogynistic mayhem that was available in comic strip form during the heady days of the pre-code thirties and forties.

Enjoy.

And don't forget your tissues.











Friday, July 1, 2011

people you fancy but shouldn't part 30.

The enigmatic Megan Stewart.






You knew that this was bound to happen sooner or later.

I'm sure wherever she is she'll appreciate it.

the wild rover revisited.

Found this languishing unloved back in early 2008. I think it's the best review I've ever written so here it is again for those of you that missed it.

Enjoy.

Rover 6 - The Movie (2005)
Dir: Unknown (a Lookinghouse/MTRU Production).
Cast: The people of Westham and Pevensy.

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Filmed on location in and around the beautiful countryside (and B roads) of Westham and Pevensy and featuring Dogma-esque performances from local residents, Rover 6 - The Movie is a piece of pure guerrilla film-making gold.

Purporting as it does to showcase the late, lamented Rover 6 community bus scheme this short infomercial manages to uncover the almost Lynchian depths of perversity and secrets hidden behind the net curtains of this small British Parish.

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A local route for local people.


From the pearl necklaced grandmother mysteriously wanting to visit the local council offices on a Saturday (whilst trying to convince the transport booker that she's really going to Waitros) to the un-named 'limping fat man' via the almost Crippenesque 'Chairman of Local Transport Group' the unsettling footage of the local residents is intercut with scenes of the sinister dark blue Rover itself smoothly stalking the backroads to a country soundtrack.

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Your grannies cum face.

Like a giant metal angel of death the Rover at one point narrowly misses a cycling child before stopping to allow a family to sacrifice a wheelchair bound elderly relative to the maw of the wheeled beast, it's cold, emotionless handler (or 'driver') always hidden in shadow save his dead cold eyes inadvertently turn the unwary passengers to stone.


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The Pevensy death machine senses another victim.


The narration, by a faceless old lady in a curt, emotionless style reminiscent of Sheila Kieth in House of Whipcord takes on a sickeningly voyeuristic edge when married to footage of innocent school girls enjoying ice cream on the promenade or shots of the unsettlingly plain women reading a timetable as two badly behaved puppies fight inside her blouse. It's almost as if the unseen narrator has been following their every moment, knowing when their lives will be cruelly cut short and is preparing to relish the moment before devouring their souls.

Forever.

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Dirty pillows.


As the twangy guitars build to a crescendo the movie takes an unexpected turn, leaving the multitude of shots from the drivers eye view of the road and unending footage of strange shaped families waiting at makeshift bus stops in deserted country lanes and council estates to showcasing the town centre and beach front even going as far as to show a man serving muffins and a lonely housewife aimlessly wandering around a deserted supermarket. Special mention is made of the monthly 'farmers market' where specialty meats can be found.

And if that's not an admission of cannibalism I don't know what is.

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She looks like she enjoys
specialty meat inside her.

The voice also informs us that seeing as Rover runs till 11.30 PM on Saturdays that we have no excuse for not visiting the local theatre or for not enjoying a 'slap up' meal with friends. A special mention is made of those that enjoy 'a few drinks' when out, whilst the camera lingers on the oppressive exterior of the health centre.

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The bearded woman and her friend may look
happy now but just wait till the fucking starts.

The story has a sad ending tho' as in early 2008 East Sussex County Council and the Westham & Pevensey Local Transport Partnership, working closely with the sinister 'Cuckmere Community Bus Group' decided (for reasons unknown) to replace the Rover with a volunteer run community bus link.

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Lambert: Naked and piss stained.


The missing persons files on those poor souls who simply vanished after boarding the Rover disappeared and Marjorie Lambert (of the local transport group that created the Rover programme) was found dead six weeks later in a local brothel alongside her Filipino houseboy Ramon.

Both were naked.

The last day of the Rover 6 service was on Saturday 9 February 2008. The Rover may be no more but it's legacy of sorrow will continue for years to come.