Wednesday, April 29, 2015

general franco.

Another day, another Franco freakout.

Enjoy.

Devil Hunter (AKA Il Cacciatore di Uomini, Sexo Cannibal, Man Hunter, Mandingo Man Hunter. 1980).
Dir: Jesus Franco.
Cast: Al Cliver, Burt Altman, Aline Mess, Ursula Buchfellner, Gisela Hahn, Werner Pochath, Antonio de Cabo, Melo Costa, Robert (not the one from The Black Hole) Foster and Muriel Montossé.

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Primark's most popular leggings model, the Lego haired temptress Laura Crawford (ball faced former Playboy bunny Buchfellner) has everything, the prettiest frocks, the hunkiest boyfriend and the largest collection of slingback know to man.

The only thing she doesn't have (apart from any discernible acting talent obviously) is the respect of her long suffering assistant; brunette bombshell Jane (the terrifyingly tight arsed Hahn).

Not content with venting her frustrations the normal way (you know, like poohing in her bed or putting itching powder in her vest) the jealous witch hatches a frankly bonkers plan that involves getting Crawford abducted then legging it to Rio (or Saltcoats, whichevers cheaper) with the ransom money as soon as the world's fashion photographers/film producers pay up.

Or something.

Enlisting the help of her bad boy buddies led by the Skeletor like Vietnam vet Thomas ( actor and art director, Cabo from the classic Aberraciones sexuales de una mujer casada), they decide to forgo the usual kidnapping conventions of hiding the victim in a convenient bed and breakfast (or even a shed) and take her to a region of uncharted cannibal infested jungle instead.

As one would I suppose.

It's not long tho' before everyone involved is bored senseless with playing Twister and charades so reckon it'd be much more fun to tie Laura to a tree and touch her up a wee bit.

Could her day get any worse?

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Devil Hunter....fashion victim.


Umm.....maybe, because it appears that the aforementioned cannibal tribe worship an honest to Goodness scary monster.

By scary monster I actually mean a big black man, stark bollock naked apart from a pair of pound shop googly eyed glasses.

No, really.

The Devil (Altman from Zombie Lake) as he is known by the locals, spends his days wandering around the jungle shagging then eating (or is it the other way round?) any women he comes across.

Possibly in a quite literal sense.

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Cliver: A mooth made for Shite-in.


The scarily sexy cannibal high priestess (Diamonds of Kilimandjaro's Mess) keeps the horny devil's libido at bay by sacrificing various buxom ladies to him on a weekly basis in a ceremony that is as intricate and breast obsessed as it is unnecessarily long winded.

Firstly she hypnotises the unwilling victims with a sweaty lap dance before dragging them naked to a secluded lagoon where even more naked ladies scrub them clean and tie them to a tree ready to be diddled with  - in glorious technicolour - by Altman.

Which is nice work if you can get it.


And that's why mum goes to Iceland.


Laura’s producer pal has no option but to mount a rescue attempt and to this end hires hunky mercenary (and all round love god) Peter Weston (the legend that is Cliver) and his (big) hipped, manbreasted sidekick Jack (Foster - it's like a Zombie Lake reunion here) to fly in and seal the deal.

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"Laugh now!"


Having a limited running time tho' it's not long before the dynamic duo are facing off against the crazy kidnappers in a pitched gun battle, unaware that the horny Altman is slowly moving in for the kill.

Or at least a swift handjob off Cliver - I mean, which hot blooded male wouldn't?

After an indeterminable amount of shootings, chasing and gratuitous arse shots our heroes end up lost in the jungle (or the local garden centre, take your pick) but luckily find a mysterious - and topless - 'girl on a yacht' (button nosed beauty and regular Franco femme Montossé) who, after bouncing about on deck (and on Cliver) for a bit offers to help our heroes in their quest.


No matter how hard he tried Sam Jackson could never tune Scarlett Johansson to 6 Music.

Unfortunately for all concerned time is running out.

It appears that Altman has become bewitched by the blonde Laura and will stop at nothing in his quest to vigorously plant his rotten zombie seed inside her mysterious - and scarily overgrown - lady garden.

What follows promises to be an apocalyptic assault on the senses that will shred your nerves and possibly more than a few boxes of tissues.

"Fiona! Where's mah lunch?"


After a girlie tiff with top producer Erwin Dietrich, Franco fucked off to the jungle in a strop and decided to film this masterpiece alongside the classic Mondo Cannibale, hence the appearance of the same cast, locations, shirts and obviously Caucasian actors blacked up pretending to be cannibals etc.

But whereas that movie has at least some redeeming qualities in it's (unintentionally) funny performances, Devil Hunter is played dead straight (tho' I use the word 'played' loosely, most of the cast look too drunk to do anything other than hopefully hit there mark and mumble banal dialogue that'll be overdubbed at a later date).

Even the usually fantastic Cliver can't save this one, reduced as he is to sitting topless on a boat, his hairy nipples erect and his luxurious moustache swaying in the cool breeze as he tosses bottles into the dirty water surrounding him, all the time looking like a condemned man praying for salvation.

Which, if I'm honest even he manages to make look sexy.

What a guy.


Spot the ball.


Always the auteur, Franco - in his infinite wisdom - decided to waylay the horror and violence and instead fill the movie with spasmodic zooms towards Buchfellner and Mess's front bums, hoping that these would stun the viewers into submission and detract from the frightening amount of scenes showing an Altman's eye view of a myriad of naked women of varied degrees of attractiveness running thru' trees whilst screaming badly.

Which is a brave move by anyones standards and whilst the thought of Franco following a variety of European non-actresses around, concentrating on their ample arses bouncing about as they go may sound appealing, the fact that every single one of these shots looks as if it's been filmed thru' a haze of green jelly only achieves the effect of making the viewer feel nauseous.

And filled with the urge to tuck into a massive sausage filled burger bun.

Erotic? racist? or just erotically racist?



Saying that, if you enjoy Franco's work (which frankly is all of us) then you'll at least find something to enjoy.

If only Cliver's comedy 'tache and Buchfellner's fright fringe.

Which is two more recommendations than you'd get for Sadomaster.


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