Tuesday, October 3, 2017

reckless eric.

Day 3 of this 31 days of horror nonsense and it's time to unleash Eric Roberts....

The Dead Want Women (2012).
Dir: Charles Band.
Cast: Jessica Morris, Ariana Madix, Lord Eric of Roberts, J. Scott, Robert Zahar and Jean Louise O'Sullivan





Welcome to Hollywood USA, to the age when the talkies were about to become the biggest thing to happen to movies since, well since they invented movies probably.

Enter bowl headed, silent movie star Rose Pettigrew (Gingerdead Man 3: Saturday Night Cleaver's O’Sullivan in what I hope is a wig) who to celebrate her first starring role has organised the party of a lifetime (well as big a party as you can get on this movies minuscule budget) at her glamorous home.

Hair of Lego and a chin Joe Dredd would kill for.




Bored with all the sycophantic guests upstairs our movie moll soon retires to the basement for a wee bit of a fanny flicking, tittie touching orgy alongside her pals the fat funster 'Tubby' Fitzgerald (Scott from Zombies Vs. Strippers), inconsequential baldy Erik Burke (Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers villain Zahar) and kinky cowboy star Sonny Barnes (Roberts, nuff said).

Cue ten minutes of softcore titillation for all the basement dwelling virgins watching.

And fans of Eric Roberts' peachy arse obviously.

Remember when your girlfriend said she at her sisters?



Unfortunately before you can reach for the tissues  a skinny studio exec turns up to inform raunchy Rose that sound tests of her voice have been causing horses to vomit and that her contract is canceled.

Tho' obviously listening to it in a modern day setting is alright tho'.

Bastards.

Never one to over-react, Rose first shoots the messenger before shooting her fellatio loving fellas and slashing her own throat.

Unfortunately the movie doesn't end there and with the majority of the budget gone on 20 style lampshades it's time to screech forward to 'the modern day' where botoxed beauties, bessie buds and real estate partners Reese (Morris, blonde and fresh faced) and Danni (Madix, blonde and sultry) are celebrating selling a Hollywood mansion for top dollar.

Can you guess which one?

If this picture was any more vapid it would fade from view completely.


Anyway, our toothsome twosome head up to the house to clean up and, whilst waiting for the buyer to show get a wee bit drunk too because that's what professional estate agents do obviously.

Unfortunately the buyer (he's probably read the script) never shows up, instead we're treated to a return performance by Sonny, Tubby, Erik and Rose (cunningly disguised in cardboard zombie masks cut out from the back of cereal packets) ready for a raunchy rave from the grave.

And Jack the lad need not apply.

Roll on twenty five minutes of chesty chases, pervy possessions, lesbian lustings, zombie rape and Eric Roberts (in full undead mode) pretending to do one of the estate agents up the arse.

WARNING: Nothing this erotic happens at any point during the movie.


Poor Charles Band, do you remember the good old days when he produced some of the greatest films ever made? Stuff like Trancers, Laserblast, Puppet Master and Robot Jox? not to mention his forays into teevee with such classics as Josh Kirby: Time Warrior (Corbin Allred where are you now?).

If you're too young to remember trust me when I tell you that any (all) self respecting horror/scifi/fantasy fans growing up in the eighties were practically raised on Band's direct to video goodness.

I even saw Laserblast at the cinema on it's original release.

Which is what makes viewing The Dead Want Women all the more painful.

I mean it's like watching your favourite auntie, riddled with dementia lying in a pool of her own urine whilst gingerly fingering the ring of a Bassett Hound as she hums tunelessly to Cher Lloyd.

Lloyd: Bassett bothering.


And you've got to feel for the great Eric Roberts when even his God-like presence can't lift a movie above the level of an irritating STD, I mean the film promises so much; zombies, soft-core lesbianism, a fat man in a hat and the aforementioned great man himself threatening to show his bum in glorious Blu-Ray goodness.

I never felt so confused as to what to do during a movie, get aroused by Eric, feel ashamed at the girl on girl fondling, attempt to suckle on the fat man's breasts or just feel slightly burned that I actually paid  five English pounds for this?

In the end I just felt violated and very confused.

And not in a good way.

Can someone call my mum?





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