beware the bin men.

 

 

Day 2 of that whole 31 days of horror October thing - hoping to pull a few more (any?) readers to my blog.

Enjoy.

L.A. Zombie (2010).
Dir: Bruce LaBruce.
Cast: Francois Sagat, Rocco Giovanni, Wolf Hudson, Eddie Diaz, Andrew James, Matthew Rush, Erik Rhodes, Francesco D'Macho, Adam Killian, Tony Ward, Santino Rice, Sly (but no Family Stone), Tim Kuzma, Trevor Wayne, Deadlee and the mighty N.asa.

It's a beautiful sun filled day in good old Los Angeles, the streets are empty, the beaches deserted.

Think Blackpool but with less dried vomit and fat birds.

Suddenly and without warning (tho' not the film Without Warning as that would be too bizarre and probably a wee bit more exciting) the waters begin to bubble and squeak as from out of the oceans depths appears some kind of massive man-breasted (and ever bigger cocked) alien cum zombie cum bucket (Fistpack 7: Twist My Arm's Sagat...ask your dad) stumbling blindly as it tries to make some kind of sense of it's new environment.

"Touch mah wee titties Morag!"

Emerging from the bushes onto an empty roadside it's not long before our blue skinned buddy is picked up by a passing surfer 'dude' who, obviously nonplussed  by the hitch-hikers pallid blue complexion and lack of footwear begins a conversation taking in everything from the physical manifestations of self loathing  to the delusional behaviour associated with severe schizophrenia.

With strangely enough are the subjects of the directors last film Otto, famous for it's uncompromising gut-fuck sequence and being one of your uncle Jims favourite films.

Unfortunately for all us art-fags watching, the conversation is cut short due to a massive crash that throws our zombie pal clear of the wreckage but leaves the poor surfer dead at the wheel.

Bemoaning the loss of his only friend the zombie has no choice but to attempt to fuck surfer boy back to life.

In glorious close-up.

As you do.

How your dad got that pay rise last month.

Bizarrely enough the salty love juice from this strange creature, when gently injected into the poor fella's gaping chest wound (and over his face), does indeed bring the him back to the land of living.

So probably worth a try next time you get a hangover or toothache then methinks.

Realizing the almost messiah-like gift he has, the zombie wanders away from the accident (and the by now living yet stickily sore surfer), finding himself drawn to the rough backstreets of L.A where the cities homeless population live a meager existence, shunned and forgotten by society.

"I have to suck out all the poison before you die!" shouted TV host Dominic Littlewood as he seduced another victim.

Like some body painted, plaid shirted, bald Jesus our zombie hero, with no thought to his owns comfort or needs proceeds to search the streets of the Greater Los Angeles area looking for dead hobo's to fuck back to life.

But only those who work out obviously.

For just over an hour.

"I can see your house from here Jamal!"

Don't get put off by all this talk of gay sex tho' as there's some metaphysical shenanigans going down too as Sagat's zombie often changes into a bedraggled human for no reason in between the sexy stuff.

No, me neither.

He actually does neither, but I guess the tagline 'He spunks sticky black goo in your mooth then forces his massive member up your arse!" didn't sound as good.

Expanding on the themes and ideas first seen in his earlier, hoodie based Zombie flick Otto: Or up with Dead People, director, artist and professional dirty boy Bruce La Bruce refines, restyles and ultimately re-imagines the zombie genre as a religious parable for an uncertain age as our nameless hero quite literally uses 'the power of love' to resurrect those forgotten and ignored by society, the meek if you will.

This bold redux of accepted ideas doesn't just stop there tho' as La Bruce has also redefined the look of the undead too.

No more light blue paint and drooling mouths no sir, in a moment of artistic genius La Bruce has decided to give his undead a dark blue pallor and as well as a nice line in prosthetic penises.

Joe D'Amato will no doubt be spinning in his grave whilst Paul Morrissey will probably be ringing his lawyers to see how much he can sue La Bruce for for stealing his ideas.

Laugh now!

Treading the fine line between gore movie, action thriller (there's a totally unnecessary subplot involving a drugs ring), religious tract and gay porn effort, you can't fault La Bruce for at least trying to do something a wee bit different with his weekends plus it's a damn sight more entertaining than most of the shite I've had to sit thru' so far this year.

Cheap as chips and queerer than your uncle, LA Zombie is the perfect ice-breaking date movie.

Honest.