Saturday, May 16, 2015

prey away.



Prey (AKA Alien Prey. 1977)
Dir: Norman J. Warren
Cast: Barry Stokes, Sally Faulkner and Gloria Annen.


"Do you take sugar?
I should think so, most men do!"




The day after a weird green light is seen in the English sky, luscious lesbians Jessica (cutesy Annen, best known for her spot on performance as 'Midvale Protestor' in Supergirl) and the bullish, lantern jawed Josephine (knicker flashing, boy haired, Cyberman stomping sixties strumpet Faulkner) are shocked to find not only three dead bunnies in the local woods but also a strange, polo necked young man with a gammy leg and a nice line in Burton's 'action slacks' hiding in the apple tree.

Being friendly, non men hating lesbians the pair decide to take him home.

Wahey.

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Some quality knitwear yesterday.


Oblivious to his fairly odd behaviour, his even odder name (Anders Anderson, short we find out later for Kator, go figure) and the fact that he appears to be the only Englishman in the world who doesn't drink tea, the ladies fawn over their new house guest as if he were a stray moggie they'd found in the rain.

Which, bizarrely enough is very close to the truth.

kind of.

The next morning whilst wandering around the scene of the mysterious rabbit massacre, Anders is accosted by two of the local constabulary who are busy investigating the crime.

It appears that one of the rabbits was seventies teevee star Hartley Hare's nephew and they desperately want to keep it out of the papers.

Panicking that he'll be uncovered as the phantom rabbit slasher, Anders morphs into his terrifying true form and kills the coppers dead.

Can I just take a moment to say that Anders' 'alien' make-up does, in fact border on pure genius.

Imagine if you will a kiddie forcibly face painted as Tigger by a tipsy Salvador Dali at a local funfair before having an Elvis wig plonked violently onto his tiny head and finally being made to wear a pair of pointy teeth cut from orange peel to complete the outfit.

Then imagine this very same child - high as a kite on E numbers - launching himself out of a garden bush at a policeman accompanied by a terrifyingly tune defying synth score.

I really don't have the words it's that bloody scary.

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"Laugh now!"


Returning to the house for a light lunch (all that killing does take it out of a man/space-cat) Josephine suddenly announces that "Jessica and I are lovers," whilst Anders is tucking into a fondant surprise, causing him to vomit all over the cucumber sandwiches completely ruining the afternoon.

Far from being a scary lesbian hating bigot tho' it's due to the fact that he can only digest raw meat.

I guess that's alright then.

All this sick and sarnies seems to have a very strange effect on Jessica tho', who whilst licking her lips and stroking her neck admits to Josephine that "Anders is very attractive....for a man".

Crikey.

And if that wasn't enough, the constant talk of man lust has sparked our luscious ladies passions meaning only one thing, yup it's time for a wee bit of big bushed, seventies's style lesbo loving.

All shot in brightly lit blackhead (and black bush) revealing close-up, our only relief (apart from the obvious) is when it cuts to Anders watching silently thru' a crack in the door.

Reminds me of boarding school.

Josephine's public hare on
show for everyone to see.


Returning to his room Anders has a quick conversation with the alarm clock before bed.

"Have made contact with human life forms, new identity established." he intones menacingly.

Well as menacingly as he can for a man clad in a nipple revealing sports shirt and arse hugging polyester slacks.

Waking the next morning to the dulcet tones of Josephine screaming, Anders and Jessica quickly head downstairs to find that a crafty fox has eaten all the chickens.

Obviously shocked by the senseless chicken choking, Anders heads off into the woods whilst Josephine buries her disturbingly large head in Jessica's fluffy pillow-like cleavage.

Gloria: pillows.


Slightly annoyed at the chicken massacre, Josephine decides to spend the entire day busily (and huffily) setting all manner of traps for the fox (including heat seeking missiles and bear-pits) but to no avail, luckily tho' Anders has kindly gone out and slaughtered the wee fella for her and returns home proudly carrying it's furry body aloft.

He'll be a Tory then.

Overcome with joy, Josephine decides to celebrate with a dead fox party.

As you do.

This involves (as if readers of the Arena need telling) Anders getting dragged up like a butch(er) Liza Minelli with the sole purpose the evening gazing seductively at Jessica whilst tapping away to a Foreigner tribute band on the stereogram.

Which we've all done at some point if we're honest.

And if that wasn't enough excitement for one night the evening culminates in a marvellously mind-bending game of hide and seek in which Josephine inexplicably arms herself with a flick knife and hides in a wardrobe.

But not before attempting to beat the keyhole at a staring competition.

"Blood on mah chest".


Scarily things get stranger still when the next afternoon (fuck, how long did she spend in the cupboard?) Josephine finds the half eaten remains of Mr. Fox under Anders pillow (sounds like a song title).

Slightly concerned by this turn of events she runs out of the house before coming across Jessica (you can tell she's a squirter) and begins to rant wildly about how Anders is a mentalist and no better than an animal himself.

Typical man then really.

Jessica, God bless her just stares at her lover with a look of mild apathy and the vague hope of a quick knicker fiddle in her eyes.

As do I most afternoons.

There's - unfortunately - no time for any sapphic fumblings tho' as the sexual tension is cut short by the sound of Anders screaming.

It appears he's fallen into a muddy pond whilst stalking a duck.

At this point I must warn readers of a nervous disposition that the scene that follows is frankly unparalleled in the history of mental movie moments, featuring as it does Jessica, Josephine and Anders erotically rolling about in mud - in slow motion - to the accompaniment of a truly terrifying tonal track of the kind not usually heard outside Wendy Carlos' gin fuelled night terrors.

Probably.

Shite (quite literally) in her mooth.


The result of all this mentalist mayhem coupled with Jessica's hitherto hidden mud fetish and Anders' creepy conversation regarding needing a good duck has the effect of curing the by now jolly Jessica of her lesbian tendencies leaving her free to attempt to seduce Anders.....

Will Anders succumb to Jessica's ample charms and (quite literally) lunch out on her womanly thighs?

And whatever will Josephine do when she finds out?

What the French call 'Prey' yesterday.



When a film's credits include the names Norman J. Warren, Terry Marcel (director of the Legendary 'Hawk The Slayer'), Handyman hunk Barry Stokes, Confessions cutie Sally Faulkner and writer Max Cuff you know you're going to get something that's a wee bit different from the norm.

Obviously followed by a shameful wank and a hot 'n' spicy Pot Noodle.

The isolated locations (the splendidly imposing country house, the directors garden and a big muddy puddle) and the sparsely populated cast work to make this movie an uncomfortable powder keg of lustful emotions, strange undercurrents, market stall knitwear and disapproving looks ready to explode at any moment.

And that's before you add a talking parrot, Gloria Annen's incredibly sexy stretched polkadot knickers, a cake with a tiny iced fox on it and Sally Faulkner's vertigo inducing portrayal of a trackie sporting mad dyke with a flick knife to the mix.

Put it all together and you know you're in the presence of greatness.

It's like a post watershed version of the 70's sitcom Butterflies as reimagined by David Lynch with make-up effects by a group of particularly disturbed - yet scarily talented - hook-handed children and scored by Karlheinz Stockhausen.

And you can't get higher praise than that.

Well you probably can if you visit a proper film site but not here.


Sally Faulkner and your dad yesterday.


Like most of Warren's output, the movie's tone veers wildly from the just plain sinister to fairly bizarre to bizzarely sinister via the ever popular 'What did I just see?", lulling us into a false sense of security by appearing to peak early with Anders alien reveal but sneakily managing to keep getting better and better.

And madder and madder.

It's then, just when you think the surprises can't get any more freakish that muddy lake scene appears from nowhere.

Why Warren has never been knighted (or at least given the bumps in a playground) is a crime against cinema.

The fact that one of our greatest genre directors goes so unheralded should be made a crime.

Fuck Shakespeare (tho' not literally seeing as he's been dead for nearly 400 years) it should be Warren's back catalogue on the school curriculum.

If you don't already own this then there's really no hope for you.

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