Tuesday, November 29, 2016

shiver mah timbah!

Been watching some real shite lately so needed an old friend to cheer me up.

Unfortunately I don't know any real people so had to settle on a film instead.

Le Frisson Des Vampires (1971 AKA Sex and the Vampire, Strange Things Happen at Night, The Shiver of the Vampires, The Terror of the Vampires, Thrill of the Vampires, Vampire Thrills)
Dir: Jean Rollin.
Cast: Sandra Julien, Jean-Marie Durand, Jacques Robiolles, Michel Delahaye, Marie-Pierre Tricot, Kuelan Herce, Nicole Nancel and 'Dominique'.

The issue of Starburst with this
on the back cover
got confiscated during my lunchbreak
by my form teacher.

Somewhere in a creepy French castle, two of the dirtiest - and not in a good way -  laydees this side of West Bromwich on a Saturday night (moonheaded blonde poppet Marie-Pierre Tricot and the toothsome, lank haired Kuelan Herce) gaze drunkenly as the skinny minnie Isabelle (the slightly less drunk but even more disease ridden Nancel) single handedly pops a couple of caskets into a cardboard crypt wall.

As you do.

Beanz meanz yeast infectionz.

Bored with staring aimlessly into the middle distance our toothsome twosome decide to go visit the tower in order to gaze instead at a couple of men that just happen to be chained to the wall, the stakes thru their chests making the two unfortunate fellas look like novelty coat hangers.

With his dying breath the one that can act (kind of) tells the maids to hurry to the graveyard and stake anybody who has die within the last week in case they turn into vampires.

Nodding in unison like a pair of novelty pug bookends the pair race to the cemetery.

I hope you're following this....it's way more complicated to type this shite than to watch it.

On arrival the pervy pair are shocked (well apathetic) to see that the sultry Isolde (the mysterious - and painfully skinny - 'Dominique') has already risen from her grave.

And been busying herself tucking in to jam sandwiches by the look of her lips.

Recognizing a good deal when they see it - and by good deal I mean a chance to strip naked and coyly touch each others breasts -  the girls forget all about this vampire business and instead offer to serve the undead Isolde (alongside a couple of camp French blokes - are there any other kind? - who just happened to be hanging around) and help them entice unwary travelers to the house so that they may drink their blood.

Dominique: up the casino, Benidorm, 1964.

Within hours of this happening (or so it seems) the beautiful (and not to mention germ free) Ise (Julien, I would twice) and her greasy mulleted husband Antoine (the rat-like Durand) arrive at the castle straight from their wedding ceremony.

It appears that Ise reckoned it'd be a good idea to combine her honeymoon with a visit to her overtly camp cousins.

As luck would have it another cousin died in the castle recently so it means she has a chance to have a wee cry about that whilst she's there too.

No doubt her new hubby is really happy with this plan but it's hard to tell seeing as he just stands there grinning and shuffling about uncomfortably in what looks like his dads suit.

Dwarf or far awayism?

Her unnamed cousins (Delahaye: tall, silver haired, lip wristed and fish lipped and Robiolles: lank haired, limper wristed and poppy eyed) seem way too happy to see little Ise and after much hugging, hair stroking, lip licking and knowing looks settle down for a slap up meal.

Davison and McGann are upset to hear that
David Tennant has all the best lines in the
75th Anniversary special 'The Nth Doctor'.

With a full tummy and a head full of grief at her (other) cousins' recent death, Ise goes all stroppy and makes Antoine sleep on the sofa.

Yup sounds like a normal wedding night.

Annoyed at not getting the chance to consummate their marriage but not wanting to come across as an unfeeling brute (or even just come across one....he's not that frustrated...yet) her hubby huffs n' shrugs before settling down for the night with a good book and the dog blanket whilst Ise drapes herself across the bed before adopting the patented horror film saucy virgin pose.

Wiggling and moaning in that sexily sweaty way that only girls in 1970's Eurohorror shlockers can, Ise is rudely awoken at midnight by Isolde noisily stepping out of a grandfather clock.

our flaxen haired heroine is immediately entranced by this druggy (sorry, dusky) beauty.

The official Penelope Keith Cuckoo
clock was a huge hit in Bavaria.

Isolde wastes no time in taking Ise up the cemetery (ooeer), where she uncomfortably fondles her breasts before biting her neck.

Ise's descent into darkness (and lipstick lesbianism) has begun.


I mean come on, this is the only reason we're watching isn't it?

"Tongue in mah mooth!"

Pity poor Antoine tho', the more he tries to get into his blushing brides - massive - pants the more distant and cold she becomes and, adding insult to injury whilst he's getting a crick neck from spending every night on the sofa she's getting bitten and fondled by her new vampiric lover.

Antoine's frustrations are soon at bursting point (and that's not all that's bursting from the way he's walking) and - in an effort to take his mind of his wifes admittedly peachy arse -  therefore decides to fill his days wandering aimlessly round the castle grounds shooting indiscriminately at pigeons.

This at least has the effect of bringing the couple together for a few minutes as every time he shoots one of the poor little buggers Ise darts out of the shadows and drinks its blood.

A classy date and no mistaking.

"Go on....I'll promise I'll pull your
nightie down when I've finished".

Unfortunately for Antoine - but not for those of us that like a wee bit of early 70's girl on girl teasing - Ise is becoming more and more distant as she slowly transforms into a creature of the night.

By that I mean a vampire, not a taxi driver.

Tho' it is a fairly honorable and well loved profession so who am I to judge? 

Things may be about to chage tho' as one day as she's skulking about the castle Ise stumbles across Isolde's coffin sitting dangerously close to an open sunlit window.

Will she come to her senses, open the casket and kill Isolde or will she embrace (quite literally) her feminine side and complete her transformation into a saucy vampire vixen?

Go on, guess.

Doodle Do: the porn years.

As is the way with such films, you wait 30 minutes for a plot twist and two come at once, you see after years of serving their undead masters the two maids have actually been planning a way to escape from their nightmarish existence of serving drinks, fondling each other on a nightly basis and having their breasts exposed by the cousins after dinner for the amusement of guests.

Tho' I've no idea why as it seems a pretty cushy job if you ask me.

Which you didn't so I'll shut the fuck up and continue with the synopsis.
 At what is this plan?

Wait for it cos it's a doozy, involving as it does sabotaging Antoine's car in order to stop him grabbing Ise and driving away (tho' why he didn't think of that earlier I've no idea) therefore forcing him to confront the vampire family whilst they sneak out the back.

And this plan took years to come up with?

Marie-Pierre farted and it's an eggy one.

As if the plot wasn't confusing enough, the other 'cousin' - possibly, it's hard to tell/care - from earlier the stern Isabelle (Nancel, looking like your friends mum you used to fancy at school) bursts into the room looking quite annoyed.

It seems that she's only just realized that her ex-lovers have transformed into evil vampires.

Better late than never I guess.

A severe case of telling off ensues which the cousins stoically take on the chin.

Lets be honest tho' it's probably not the only unpleasant thing that they've had there is it?

Unfortunately Isabelle takes it too far (well she is a woman) and starts slagging off their purple loon pants and girly blouses, accusing them of the terrible crime of being 'unmanly and pathetic'.

Obviously being the one that chose their outfits, Isolde goes a wee bit mental and decides the best course of action would be to murder Isabelle with a handy spiked bra she just happened to be wearing.

And no, I didn't see that coming.

This in turn so enrages the cousins that they have no choice but to pin her down and violently put it in her her.

Which, if I'm honest kinda gives it the edge over Graham's conflicy resolution on the Jeremy Kyle show.

A butcher's dog yesterday.

Antoine by this point has understandably had enough of all these underfed lesbians, as well as the crack whore maids who've by this point taken to jumping into his bed to steal his jammie bottoms and the least said about the piss and gin soaked camp cousins the better, so he decides to change into his best action slacks and confront the twee twosome with a crucifix.

But after a frankly pathetic struggle that would shame even two seven year old schoolgirls they slap him about for a bit and tie him up.

As he wriggles limply on the hall carpet sniffling like a girl and begging Ise for help the cousins camply giggle at him as they lead his beloved wife away for her final 'initiation'.

Deciding to push their escape plan ahead the maids untie Antoine, wiping his nose before pointing him in the direction of the graveyard.

Surprisingly for such an ineffectual lead he actually  manages to follow the directions, making it to the graveyard without tripping over or bumping into something and also manages to succeed in abducting Ise before the ritual is complete, much to the annoyance of the cousins who mince after him waving their arms like big gay seagulls.

At this point I'd like to add that this is no way meant as a slight to seagulls anywhere.

Gay or otherwise.

It is, in fact just a cheap attempt at humour.

Whilst all this is going on a frankly bored Isolde decides to retire to the relative comfort of her coffin (for crack and buns obviously) only to find that the maids have set fire to it and surrounded the vampiric junkie with big crucifixes.


The fire must rage for weeks tho' as she actually dies of hunger after trying to bite her own neck.

And with this the maids skip away hand in hand for a joyous, vampire free life of soap free lesbian sex.

Which we never see.

Pity that.

Forget the ample arse, check the tide
mark round her waist. Dirty cow.

But let's not dwell on what could have been and return to the here and now where we find our hero Antoine running across a beach carrying Ise to safety.

I must admit he looks very out of breath tho' so either the beach is miles away or he's even weedier than he looks.

Unfortunately it's not long before the cousins have caught up with poor Antoine, kicking sand in his face and dead legging him.

Crying even more now he begs Ise to come with him - or at least to let him put it in her once - but she choses to go with her cousins, leaving Antoine sobbing like a wee boy who's had his football stolen by the big boys, blubbing and shaking in the sand.

Turning her back on her man (well her ex man....can't he take a hint?) she slinks toward her cousins who then nibble her neck, strip her naked and fondle her senseless till the sun rises and fries all three of them in an orgy of blood, sweat, egg and semen.

I would so hate to be their local laundrette.

Distraught and confused, Antoine runs around the beach, firing off his pistol stumbles about like a loon.

Remember kids, all women are evil.

There are those who will tell you that Jean Rollin was a purveyor of fine motion pictures and that if you look beyond the crass sex scenes and stilted performances that a hidden gem of art house cinema will appear.

This is, of course utter shite, I mean come on, this is the man responsible for Zombie(s) Lake.

Those of us who don't have hang ups about such things love and adore him for what he truly was.

A lovably dirty old man with an arse - and shoe - fetish.

And you'll all agree I'm sure that there's nowt wrong with that.

Appearing in the mid ground of his 'female vampire' obsession (following on from Le Viol du vampire in 1968 and La Vampire nue in '69) Le Frisson Des Vampires is the most accomplished of Rollin's vampire epics and an obvious influence, both thematically and storywise on Vicente Aranda Ezquerra's The Blood Spattered Bride released the following year.

Tho' Ezquerra could actually direct.

And afford to hire actual actors.

At once both cheap and cheerful and as pretentious as a first year art student it's moments of surreal genius (Dominique sleeping in a grandfather clock) are cruelly juxtaposed with arse numbing scenes of plotless ramblings and random snatches of female nudity.

Exploitative rubbish or an artistically erotic masterpiece?

Well I know what I think.

If you've never experienced this little gem for yourself you really should rush out and buy it now so you can make up your own mind.

Just don't forget the tissues.

Monday, November 28, 2016

don't cry for me argentina.

So, when does trash transcend its boundaries to become art? and can 'art' become so misplaced that it becomes mere trash?

More importantly, are the two interchangeable?

Fucked if I know, I was only asking because between bonkers Brexit and terrifying Trump the world seems to be slowly but surely collapsing in on itself in an ever growing malaise of rancid racism and jingoistic flag waving like an ecstasy-fueled last night of the proms conducted by the putrefying corpse of Hunter S Thompson's dog.

Well done world.

 So to alleviate the feelings of dark despair I thought I'd give this gem a rewatch....

Sadomaster (2005).
Dir: Germán Magariños and Fernando Giangiacomo
Cast: Ezequiel Hansen, Leandro De la Torre, Francisco Pérez Laguna, Mariano Salas and Fernando Giangiacomo.

Asses and Nazi's.....pity there's
no dwarf action too.

The time: Now!

The place: Sunny Argentina!

Which it has to be said is being destroyed from within by a particularly nasty bout of ultra-violence.

And rickets.

Nasty Nazi gangs are roaming the streets, setting fire to tramps, pooing behind bins and molesting (leathery) old ladies and only senator Mauricio Beccar Varela (Laguna...like it matters) is man enough to tackle this onslaught of badness by implementing a zero tolerance of naughtiness campaign.

Right on.

Unfortunately for the people of Argentina Varela leads a double life, by day he's a man of the people - kinda like a slightly less swarthy South American Nigel Farage - but as the sun sets he reveals his true self.

Yup he is, in fact actually the evil ring leader of the Nazi gang responsible for the violence.

Hang on, that's basically just Nigel Farage isn't it?

"Are you my mummy?"

As the weeks go by the violence gets ever worse and after a particularly nasty night which starts with a defenseless Rabbi is beaten to death by a group of One Direction wannabes and culminates with a leather clad pervert urinating on babies it looks like the city is doomed.

What will it take for someone to take a stand against these rotters?

Surprisingly the answer to that question is actually quite simple.

All it takes is the brutal, drawn out torture - and rape obviously - of a chubby, topless man with learning difficulties.

All in glorious close-up.

Lucky, lucky us.

The mutilated body is later discovered by a pissed up homeless man walking down the street who, feeling peckish proceeds to help himself to the poor victims spleen.

They're full of vitamin C apparently.

Not a still from the film
(to be honest there are precious few I can show)
but a photo of some Pikey kids dogging school
(possibly to actually go dogging - who knows? )
and giving the vickies to the camera.

But as our stinky chum cheekily chews his makeshift lunch a spooky pentagram appears flashing onscreen and the ghost of the dead chubby (as in dead and chubby, tho' he is actually dead chubby too) man appears from nowhere screaming “Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!”

Reckoning that becoming a black clad vigilante is probably a better career choice that rummaging thru' the bins, the homeless guy fashions himself a homemade gimp outfit and christens himself the Sadomaster before beginning a brutal series of revenge attacks against the gangs and the corrupt politicians.

Just like Bernie Sanders didn't.

A still from the aborted The Famous
Five/Frank Castle team-up.

Our hero - knowing he lacks a certain something in the hero stakes decides to make up for his stinky fish breath, stringy beard, lack of super powers and the fact that he rides a really crap moped by being not only hard as nails but mad as a lorry with it.

It's not too surprising them to find out that the Sadomaster soon has the evil Nazi's on the run.

But things are probably going to get a lot worse (acting and plotwise) before they get better...

I say probably because by this point I gave up and went to bed.

I mean there comes a point when you have to ask yourself is it really worth sitting up late at night feverishly scribbling notes on a film only myself - and possibly Keith Vaz - will ever see as a fat, sweaty Argentinian non-actor grinning like a loon has a huge rubber cock forced into his mouth in the background?

The final decision was made for me tho' when I caught sight of that old friend Porno Holocaust hiding under a pile of recently purchased Poundland DVD's on my desk.

I mean who wants to watch such mindless and inept shaky cam rubbish as Sadomaster when you know that only a few feet away Mark Shanon's warty scrotum is awaiting your attention in all it's remastered wide screen glory?

Even tho' I only watched it again a few weeks back.

Yes, Sadomaster is that bad.

Your nan on the phone yesterday.

Costing less than a McDonalds happy meal (and managing to be far less appetizing) this lo-fi revenge flick from the aptly titled Gorevision Films is the kind of movie that the self proclaimed art crowd will muse over for years to come whilst your connoisseur of cult films (and no doubt all you fine readers here) will (hopefully) see it for the tragically un-hip Mad Foxes rip-off that it really is.

Without that films charm, wit and big-bushed bath bonking obviously.

Gore, breasts, mouth-rape, evil Nazi's
and political commentary....

...or Mark Shannon's warty balls...
YOU decide!

Unfortunately Sadomaster was a big enough hit in Argentina to allow Magariños and Giangiacomo to continue making 'the films', following up this classic with the little seen Un Cazador de Zombis.

Which scarily is even worse than this.

Tho' at least it has someone famous in it.

OK it has a cameo from Troma's Lloyd Kaufman.

And then?

Yup.....they made Sadomaster 2.

As well as such titles as - I kid you not - Poltergays 5: los lobos desnudos de las, They Call Him One Eye Faggot and the hilariously sounding Scanners: Dopplegayners.




Yet it's me that gets the death threats.

Be seeing you.

Saturday, November 26, 2016

brownie points.

Been trying to decide what action movie to watch this eve which has turned into a wee bit of an excited Saturday night discussion here at Castle Unwell as to which film is actually the best action movie ever.
I reckon The Last Boy Scout whereas Mrs Lamont says Con Air.

After much frenetic chat and threats of violence my mind was finally change after She reminded me that Con Air has the wonderful Trisha Yearwood warbling How Do I Live? on the soundtrack whereas Boyscout only has that old bloke from Dirty Dancing shouting about football.

It's all been for nought tho' as young Master Cassidy has just strolled in with his mums  uncut DVD of the HK guns 'n' girls actioner Naked Killer, taking me back to the heady pre-internet days of trying to purchase a copy for her.

I know, I'm such a romantic.

I mean, the amount of times I'd thought I'd ordered this classic from some dodgy ad in the back of a magazine when, in fact I'd just spent a small fortune on Naked Killer 2 went beyond a joke, especially when you know that Naked Killer 2 isn't even a 'proper' sequel, It's actually the fantastically exploitatively monikered Raped by an Angel (the first in a 'hit' series, natch) retitled to cash in on NK stars Chingmy Yau and Simon Yam appearing on screen together again.

Does exactly what it says on the box.

But first, for those of you unfamiliar with this classic romantic thriller (and if you haven't seen it then honestly, I'm shocked) the plot of the original NK goes something like this.

But first the obligatory cast list and the like:

Naked Killer (Chinese: 赤裸羔羊, 1992).
Dir: Clarence Fok Yiu-leung.
Cast:  Chingmy Yau, Simon Yam, Carrie Ng, Madoka Sugawara, Wai Yiu and
Ken Lo.

But not Ken Loach obviously.

Raven haired and slender of thigh Kitty (Yau) is a quite frankly scary lady with a neat hobby of punishing bad men that cheat on their girlfriends.

Tinam (Simon Yam) on the other hand is a nice guy cop who unfortunately shot and killed his brother (by accident of course) and is now impotent.

Plus he has a habit of vomiting uncontrollably whenever he holds a gun.

How's your luck?

A naked killer showering yesterday.

Their paths messily cross when Kitty is caught (very) red handed after repeatedly stabbing her friends boyfriend in the genitals after finding out he's been unfaithful.


Tinam attempts to arrest her but ends up just throwing up his lunch and shaking a bit.

Trying to figure out a way out of her predicament - and therefore stay out of jail - Kitty does what any woman in her position would do and decides to head to the police station to seduce Tinam in the hope that the sight of her nice flat tummy, shiny mane and luscious thighs will stop him dobbing her in to his superiors.

She's a sly one.

Being a typical man our hero cop has no idea that she's leading him on a just sits drooling.

Which is a nice change from sitting vomiting I guess.

Meanwhile back in the family orientated sub plot, Kitty's father's marriage to his new (whorish) wife is being rocked by her countless affairs.

Oh yes and he's a wee bit upset that she appears to favour wearing  tiny arse revealing belts instead of skirts.

It all comes to a head one evening when he arrives home to find her writhing around, legs akimbo with a Yakuza boss named Bee (Ken Lo).

In the ensuing argument, Kitty's dad falls down the stairs, bumping his head and dying.



"I love you....could it be vomit?"

Understandably annoyed at this turn of events, she storms into Bee's office and proceeds to off not only him but all his burly bodyguards and the majority of his secretarial staff (including the poor tea boy and the girl that fills the photocopier) before taking a foxy older lady hostage during the course of her dramatic escape.

By a bizarre stroke of luck, it turns out that the woman is, in fact the notorious assassin Sister Cindy (Hong Kong's very own Barbara Windsor, Wai Yiu) who suddenly begins joining in the carnage even going as far as taking out a couple of their pursuers herself.

Escaping unscathed and seeing that Kitty has the potential to become a top lady assassin herself, Cindy offers to train her in the mystic art of kicking arse using a mental, half starved pedophile she just happens to have chained up in her cellar as a makeshift punch bag .

And I thought our walk-in cupboard was bad with the amount of comics stored in there.

It's Glasgow's Miss Masonic Lodge 1984.

Via the magic of sweaty slo-mo montage scenes we see Kitty go from scary penis stabbing mentalist to highly trained penis stabbing assassin before finally bettering her teacher.

The time is right for her first mission alongside Sister Cindy.

A mission to 'take out' a Yakuza bad man in an orgy of soft rock music, slinky thigh action and squirty blood.

None too happy with this, the surviving Yakuza put a price on Kitty's head (and stunning thighs and pneumatic chest too probably) and the evil lesbian murderess Princess (the tiny headed yet frighteningly breasted Carrie Ng), a former protégé of Sister Cindy alongside her market stall fashion victim Japanese lover Baby (moonfaced cutey Madoka Sugawara) take the job.

"I can see your house from here Peter".

Tinam meanwhile has decide to use this murder as an excuse to actually find Kitty - he likes to take things slowly, bless - whom he discovers is disguised as a foxy air hostess named Vivian Shang.

This subplot is a wee bit complicated to explain here so e-mail me if you want details.

Bombarded with questions from our cool cop Kitty plays it cool and convinces him that he's mistaken her for someone else (obviously he was too busy staring at her arse to remember her face) but decides to carry on flirting with him anyway, giving Sister Cindy ample time to murder everyone else who can connect Kitty to Vivian Shang.

"Push harder or I'll never fit in this suitcase".

Kitty and Tinam finally have their much anticipated soft focus shag before tearfully realizing that a cop and a killer - even a naked one - will have a slightly difficult time holding down a stable relationship.


Being a sweetie, Sister Cindy suggests that Kitty leave the assassin business and settle down with her beau and live happily ever after, which would be OK if Princess, who if you remember is out to kill Kitty, hadn't become madly obsessed her, which has led to scenes of sweaty rough sex with Baby featuring orgasmic machine gun fire, opera gloves and much fiddling about with each others panties in loving close-up.

Can I just add that this technique has never ever worked for me.

Vicious lips, milky eye.

With at least 30 minutes left till the movies climax the deadly duo decide to first kill Sister Cindy, hoping that will bring an enraged Kitty to them but the old bird puts up a good fight before ultimately being killed by the luscious poisoned lips (coated in an evil lipstick that is fatal when mixed with booze - obvious eh?) of Princess.

"Lesbe friends...."
"homo we wont!"

Kitty is still nowhere to be found tho' (she's busy hiding under the duvet hoping everything will blow over like you would in this situation) which annoys Princess to a point where she starts screaming whilst randomly shooting stuff.

For what seems like a day.

Luckily for us, just when you think your ears can't take anymore of Princesses wailing - tho' I will admit the scenes where she violently spanks Baby's wobbly arse are pretty good - our heroine re-appears with an interesting proposition....

Kitty, it seems is willing to let bygones be bygones if Princess will become her business (and bedroom) partner.

Thinking the deal over for about three minutes (giving her a chance to oogle Kitty's unspanked backside) before hurriedly shouting "Yes please!" and leaping on her for a bit of black clad assassin on assassin action.

Princess, however is too caught up in the incredibly gratuitous (but admittedly sexy) lesbian lust frenzy to realize that Kitty is also wearing poisoned lippy!

Whilst locked in an erotic embrace, our (completely vomit free) lovelorn police-type hero Tinam bursts in thru' a window and proceeds to mow down all of Princess's hench-people (in slo-mo of course) before turning his gun on Baby and legging it back to Sister Cindy's pad with Kitty.

"Milk in mah mooth!" (well, I hope it's milk).

An understandably furious Princess follows the lethal lovers as the poison starts to take effect arriving to find a deliriously dishy Kitty shouting abuse at her from the living room.

Unfortunately Kitty too is dying ans Tinam, devastated by the thought of losing his one true love throws back his head screaming loudly before firing his gun at the gas oven causing the house (and them) to explode in a blaze of colour and inappropriate end music.

Madoka Sugawara: Lego hair.

As you can probably tell from the above synopsis, NK is an utter hoot from start to finish, a film so over the top it's possible to get vertigo just by looking at the DVD sleeve for too long which makes the fact that Raped by an Angel was released as Naked Killer 2 even more of a travesty.

Whereas NK features a stunning mix of romance, extreme violence, slinky ladies mixed with scenes of women snorting coke from sweaty muscled mens arses, fantastically choreographed lesbian sex scenes and enough gunplay to keep even Charlton Heston happy (if he were still alive that is), Angel removes all these elements (except Chingmy Yau's wonderous thighs) and replaces them with, well nothing really.

"Look! it's Jimmy Krankie's hat!"

The plot (for want of a better word) is paper thin to say the least, centering as it does around sweaty, rat like bad boy perv Chuck Chi-shing (played to perfection by the ickle fin legged Mark Cheng) who has an unhealthy obsession with a hot model Yau Yuk-nam (Yau).

Can any movie live up to this poster?

As part of his plan to get - very - close to Ms. Yuk-nam, he moves in next door to her toothsome, jiggly of breast yet harsh of fringe pal Chu Kit-Man (Ng Suet-Man, who no doubt does whatever a Suet-Man can) playing the nice but dim neighbour before drugging and molesting her.


Whilst all this misogynist stuff is going on (in loving close up I may add) Yau Yuk-nam has started dating the lovable triad guy with a heart Tso Tat Wah (Yam, sexy as ever) but the romance is cut short by a mix of tragedy and legal action (as part of the storyline, not from bored viewers) leading to a blood, sweat, egg (and semen) stained, incredibly tasteless climactic showdown between a half naked Yau, a sexily shirted Yam and the dirty Cheng.

Cheng: He has five pounds.

Saying that tho' you kinda know what to expect from a movie with a title like Raped By an Angel, it's not like you're just going to idly pick it up of the shelves in a Teresa May sort of way, pop it on one Sunday afternoon the be surprised if you find it offensive are you?

At least I hope not.

All I can say is if you're looking to waste a few hours with a mix of gratuitous nudity, sleazy sex, Chingmy Yau's just stepped out of the salon hair and a bit of argy bargy then forget this shite and buy Naked Killer instead.

Or you call always give your mums pal a call.

You know the one.

No need or every need?

But if you find that you can't resist viewing a movie with such an offensive title then you could do worse than checking out the surprisingly entertaining sequel Raped By An Angel 2: The Uniform Fan.

This time round we enter the world of a perverted dentist (the scarily Tony Blair like Joe Tak-Chung Ma) who has a slightly worrying thing for girls in uniform.

More worrying than most of us that is.

Up until now he's managed with dirty films and almost constant masturbation but it's getting to the point where not even this can alleviate his warped desires and soon enough he's a-raping and a-murdering traffic wardens in seedy back alleys just for kicks.

As you can tell he's a very bad man indeed.

Just in case you missed it first time round
(do you realize how long it
me to scan these shots?)

If this wasn't enough he's also start to fantasize about buxom highschool girl Jenny (infamously wobbly bummed and white ankle sock wearing Cat III star Chung Chun) who's booked into his surgery for a wee filling.

But not the kind he has on offer obviously.

Chun: loose crown,
Hello Kitty undies and

unsightly plaque not shown.

As soon as she enters the surgery he starts sweating like, well a rapist obviously and can only be calmed down when his put upon nurse raises her uniform and offers to let him fill her instead.

No really.

But alas this isn't enough so the dirty dentist cooks up an incredibly convoluted plan to get Jenny (and her pals) drunk (and drugged) at his house in order to have his wicked way with her.

And what is he planning for an encore?

Well he's decided that after completing the dirty deed he's going to wank off her unconscious boyfriend into a condom before placing his prone, trouserless body between Jenny's chubby thighs.

See? told you it was unnecessarily complicated.

Check the socks: The great Diane Pang
from a totally different yet
exploitative movie yesterday.

Surprisingly (yeah right) the plan goes awry, leaving Jenny hospitalized with concussion and a sore arse much to the chagrin of her policewoman sister Po Wan Yu (Athena Chu, the star of the classic Shaolin Kung Fu Kids), who, as luck would have it has just been demoted from overcoat wearing detective to cutesy uniformed PC.

Can you guess what happens next?

Athena Chu's farted and it's an eggy one.

Yup, she becomes the new object of the dentists affections as the movie careers toward an explosive climax featuring Po Wan Yu's mad granny, poisoned coffee, castration and a far too skimpy Brownie uniform.

Much was made on the films release in Hong Kong of Chung Chun’s “incredibly sexy performance” which in the harsh light of day consists of endless shots of her bending over showing her big white undies, chewing pencils and lying prone in a dentists chair whilst being slowly unbuttoned by a sweaty man.

Not all at the same time I hasten to add.

Luckily the movies saving grace is Athena Chu dressed in the aforementioned Brownie uniform pretending to be drunk whilst flashing her undies and giggling.

And her reason for wearing the outfit?

Turns out she's a Brown Owl for the local pack.

There's not much else I can say really.

Don't have nightmares.

Friday, November 25, 2016

turkey twister.

It's Friday night and I've been without heating for 24 hours thanks to my new boiler being faulty so thought I'd better watch something to get my temperature rising.

Delirium: Photos Of Gioia (1987).
Dir: Lamberto Bava.
Cast: Serena Grandi, Daria Nicolodi, Vanni Corbellini, Karl Zinny, Lino Salemme, Sabrina Salerno, David Brandon, Capucine and George 'The Body' Eastman.

''a woman's anger can be very bad''

Terrifyingly breasted Former model cum part-time porn princess Gioia (Grandi, the big faced star of such quality movies as Anthropophagous: The Beast, Angelina: Lady of the Night and Frivolous Lola), has finally hit the big time with the publication of her cutting edge 'fashion' magazine, the aptly titled Pussycat.

To celebrate, our dirty pillowed darling has hired her hunky photographer brother Tony (Corbellini whom you may recognize from his star turn as Gualtiero Di San Casciano in the fantastic TeeVee miniseries Black Arrow....or maybe not) and his camp as pants assistant, Roberto (Brandon from, um, Beyond Dark) to re-imagine some of the risqué images that made her world famous (well they helped your dad thru' some lonely times) but this time using a hot new lady-model.

Your mum last Saturday night.

Everything goes swimmingly (and I must admit, quite sexily in a kinda eighties way) and the shoot wraps without a hitch, unfortunately, shortly after leaving Gioia's villa little miss model (we'll call her Babs) is brutally (and not to mention bloodily) slain with a rusty pitch fork.


Luckily (for the police, not the model, obviously) this wicked act is witnessed by Gioia's wheelchair bound young neighbour - and part time stalker - Mark (Zinny, long faced star of Bava's Demons and Graveyard Disturbance) thru his telescope that he just happens to have had trained on the swimming pool all day.

Dirty wee sod.

Yes it is Sabrina - you know the one that sang 'Boys -Summertime Love' and the Stock, Aitken and Waterman classic 'All Of Me' - being touched up by mummies in case you were wondering.

Being a nice guy he immediately phones Gioia -rather than the police- with the news.

Tho' it's a surprise that he can find the telephone under the pile of crusty tissues in his room if I'm honest.

Unfortunately our busty babe, thinking it's just another of Mark's pervy phone calls (he doesn't get out much) hangs up on him.

Thinking nothing more of the situation Gioia goes back to work preparing the next big issue (of Pussycat magazine, not the paper that the homeless sell) and trying to contact Babs to offer her another job (this time advertising the cut price undies for the Aldi catalogue no doubt).

With her phone ringing out constantly and no-one having seen her for weeks, Gioia assumes that poor old Babs is on holiday, but this idea is cruelly shattered when not only does her body turns up behind some bins but also an envelope arrives at the 'Pussycat' office containing photographs of the murdered model posed in front of a huge blow up piccie of our Gioia.

"Eye hen!"

From then on it's murder after murder as more and more models on the Pussycat books start turning up dead (and in poses that'd make a whore - or your mum - blush) meaning it's up to police inspector Corsi Manlove (Salemme, another refugee from Graveyard Disturbance and latterly a star of The Passion of the Christ) to find this mammary minded mentalist behind the deaths before it's too late.

Too late for what I have no idea, but you have to admit it sounds good.

Corsi is convinced that the killer must be harboring a grudge against Gioia (no shit) and is probably someone very close to her.

Figuratively speaking that is, I mean not actually standing behind her or something.

But who?

Could it be mustachioed man-breasted Alex? (genre god Eastman in a small but perfectly formed cameo that involves him having soapy sex with Grandi in a bathtub) or is it kooky Evelyn? (the ever wonderful Nicolodi, obviously slumming it to pay for Asia's new ballet shoes or something).

Possibly not.

So how about Roberto who's been seen cruising around the streets at night looking for a nice bit of manarse (and we all know that homosexuality equals evilness) or is it Mark, driven insane by the constant night time visits by Mother Fist and her five beautiful young daughters?

And don't forget Gioia's bitchy lesbian publishing rival Flora (Capucine from Fellini's Satyricon) who's trying to get her bony old lady fingers into both Gioia's magazine and her silky undies.

Or is it someone else?

But let's be honest here, do we really care?


Once seen, never forgotten (and bit like when you catch your parents having sex) Lamberto Bava's Delirium plays out like some bastard beast-child that sprung from the (sweaty yet gloriously smooth and tanned) loins of Jackie Collins after a particularly heaving drink and drugs session with Joe D'Amato's pet dog.

Whose name I believe was Pascal.

Originally conceived as a star vehicle for one time 'sexiest woman in Italy' Serena Grandi (at that point more famous for her 39D boobs than any of her acting roles), Delirium was written to showcase her fantastic acting range as well as her pendulous breasts and peachy arse, therefore mixing emotional, heart felt drama with a bit of soft core nudity.

Oh yes and lots and lots of blood.

But it's not all killings, cod-psychobabble and boobs tho' as the film has a pretty unique ace up its wizard-like sleeve.

Namely the fact that the killer (due to some freaky medical condition that is never explained) sees all his victims as tho' they have huge comedy paper mache carnival heads.

No, really.

Yup, for no other reason than the joke shop next door to the studio was having a closing down sale the murderer sees one of his soon to be victims with a giant cyclops face (and a nasty seventies bun hairstyle a wee bit like your gran) and, in a scene that will live in cinema as a perfect example of celluloid genius long after you and I have passed on, sees another as having a big furry bee head.

Oh and scarily pointed breasts.

But I have a feeling those are real.

I don't know what's freakier,
the big bee head or the Snoopy shaped breast.

But it's these scenes of bloodletting, bizarro bonces and bouncing breasts that are the films saving grace, because if it wasn't for them breaking the arse numbing tedium of the movie every five minutes you'd have to concentrate on what passes as the plot.

"I'm sorry I have my womans period!"

If, however you manage to make it to the movies end then you'll be happy to know that it climaxes (oooerrr) with a dribbling man cutting off Grandi's flimsy garments whilst pervily whispering ''I want to see you in the nude, one last time''.

And after the amount of times she's flashed her (slightly soiled) wares during the proceeding ninety minutes the promise of no more nudity seems like a godsend.

One to keep you entertained on those cold, winter nights.

Or if your gran is coming to visit

Thursday, November 24, 2016

criminalising kinkiness (part 2).

Not often I get to have a good old rant on here (well not about anything of importance) but I couldn't let the governments new digital economy bill pass without at least a few words.

Which is a shame but hey ho.

Readers with long memories (and glass dolls) will no doubt remember my previous moans aboutthe likes of Christopher Tookey and barmy Julian Brazier (there's more but frankly I really can't be arsed trawling thru' the links to find them) as well as the infamous ambulance chaser and buggerer of beefcake Keith Vaz regarding their thoughts that 'Explicit and extreme video games and films are fueling a tide of violence in Britain' from a few years ago and their ongoing attempts to ban anything and everything that they don't like.

Vernon: Your dad's cum face.

Obviously - thanks no doubt to my fantastic journalistic skills) - their puritanical pursuits came to naught  and we all got to live happily ever after, that is until professional witch-woman and part-time internet voyeur Theresa May came to power and decided that it was up to the government to decide what kind of sexy stuff we can enjoy.

Being more of a mindless violence than a kinky sex fan (look I have Aspergers I'm going to side with the less sticky pursuit - I hate mess) I gave the matter no thought, knowing that is that Zombie(s) Lake could in no way be construed as a sexual fetish, until that is a friend (yes I have one) pointed out that under the new legislation those occasional YouTube videos I post of me dancing provocatively whilst wearing a Howard Vernon mask could be seen as too kinky and therefore illegal.

It was at this point that my pervy pal delivered the killer blow.


It seems that part of the bill is aimed at regulating things like menstrual blood, urination and 'mooth shite-ing'.

I'll let that sink in for a minute.

Yup, this blog will be well and truly screwed.

Hopefully then they'll remember to stick to the bizarre “four-finger rule” when they do it.

And what is this rule? I hear my overseas readers cry.

It's a part of the bill which limits the number of digits that can be inserted into an orifice for sexual stimulation.

No really.

We have food banks, a rise in racist attacks on the street and a country in post-Brexit turmoil and this is the most important thing our government can think about?

We are indeed drifting into an arena of the unwell.

Theresa May: Haunted beachfront cave.

For more information follow the link here, it's for The Guardian which may be a wee bit left-leaning but as a plus point the type is quite large and they don't use too many big words.

Which for readers here is a Godsend.

Talking of random film-based sex acts regular readers may have noticed that The Arena has been a wee bit obsessed with sexy seventies superstar Robin Askwith of late, culminating in me finally getting round to obtaining his classic 'Confessions' series on shiny StevieDee allowing my to confine my bulky VHS collection to the bin.

Imagine my surprise then when on going to watch them I realized I'd actually acquired the slightly inferior Barry (Mind Your Language) Evans 'Adventures' set by mistake.

Never mind I thought, It'd be a pity not to share....

Adventures of a Taxi Driver (1976)
Dir: Stanley Long.
Star: Barry Evans, Judy Geeson, Adrienne Posta, Robert Lindsay, Liz Fraser, Diana Dors, Anna Bergman, Stephen Lewis, Ian Lavender, Henry McGee, Stephen Riddle, Brian Wilde, David Auker, Angela Scoular and Beatrice Shaw.


The place: London, the time: the really unfashionable bit of the seventies where greasy haired, bowl cutted Joe North (Evans) - a busty burd obsessed (not a busty burd himself, obviously) taxi driver - spends his time using his cab as an impromptu shag palace to get away from his mundane everyday existence, from ditzy dollies to frustrated, saggy boobed bored housewives, every woman he meets seem to fall for his lost little boy charms.

And pleasant smelling cock obviously.

We first experience his uncanny (some would say ungodly) luck first hand when one of his passengers asks to be dropped off on a bridge so she can jump off.

She's heartbroken, the poor lamb.

Being a nice guy Joe convinces her not to toss herself off but to allow him to drive her home.

Probably after leaving the meter running and charging her extra tho' - you know what cabbies are like.

Upon arrival she surprisingly takes off all her clothes and jumps on our crap Casanova.

Suffice to say that just as they're about to get down and get with it (luckily for the viewer not before we've seen Evan's pale, shriveled penis), her boyfriend turns up unexpectedly leaving Joe no choice but to climb out of the window and leg it to his cab stark bollock naked.


He needn't have bother tho', turns out that this blokes missis is a raving nymphomaniac and uses the old suicide trick to pick up fellas all time.

Hi-fucking-larious I'm sure you'll agree.

"Oh no! It's John Leslie!"

The good thing is that all this sex is that it helps take Joe's mind of his hellish home life, dominated as he is by his moaning (but not in that way) peroxide headed mother (Dors....who wouldn't want to be dominated by her?...well not now obviously) and arguing constantly with his spotty teenage brother whilst trying to find an excuse to escape his clingy, marriage obsessed girlfriend Carol (the ball-faced, bewigged Posta, who also performs the films theme song 'Cruising Casanova').

It's not too much of a surprise then to find poor Joe finds at breaking point so he decides to move in with his best mate Tom (Lindsay).

Cue even more oh so amusing sexual shenanigans.

"Excuse me, you've shut my cock in the door".

Over the next forty five minutes we're treated (in much the same way as you treat syphilis) to a veritable comedic tsunami of sexual hi-jinks featuring faceless seventies totty and a hilarious escapade with Joe's pet python named....wait for it.....Monty.





"Is that a snake in your pocket or is it just
that your
cock is particularly scaly and flexible?"

If this wasn't enough to get your pulse racing, down on her luck former Bond girl (and pube haired temptress) Angela Scoular gets her kit of in possibly the film’s most amusing moment (and that's not saying much) when her geeky accountant husband, who has unexpectedly come home early, surprisingly fails to notice that Joe is lying underneath his wife in a soapy bath.

Scoular: pube haired but still lustable.

Add to this the wonderful Judy (Inseminoid) Geeson playing a stripper (who scarily keeps her clothes on throughout), the comedy gem of Joe mistakenly picking up a transvestite and the bizarre last third of the film which forgoes any shagging to concentrate on Joe getting involved in a jewelery heist gone wrong and you have a movie to challenge Nativity 3: Dude Where's My Donkey? in the charm stakes.

Yes, it really is that good.

Watch out! it's Leslie Grantham.

So what else is there to say about this movie?

Well, Stanley Long's direction is, um, well it's in focus and he makes sure the camera doesn't wander off at the boring bits, whilst the 'script' co-written by Suzanne (Groupie Girl) Mercer from an idea by Long is simplistic at best, clichéd and predictable at worst.

Cast wise, the late (almost great) Barry Evans is fresh faced and agreeably cocky enough to worm his way into the audiences affections whilst Robert (Citizen Smith) Lindsay and Judy Geeson give sterling support as his best pal and best pals missis respectively.

The film also boasts a plethora of cameo's from some British comedy legends including Diana Dors, Liz (the one that wasn't in The Cocteau Twins) Fraser, Ian (Dads Army) Lavender, Stephen (On The Buses) Lewis and Brian (Last of The Summer Wine) Wilde.

Liz Fraser: The one that doesn't get
her tits out in British smut movies.

Being kind tho' the films tiny (£130,000) budget is put to good use shooting in and around London (that's in England, Europe for any Americans reading) mostly without official permits which gives it a grittier edge than it's more famous Confessions cousins.

It's just a pity the film as a whole doesn't live up to it's guerrilla origins.

Worth a look if you like smut of a not too rude kind.

Or have a thing for huge seventies pants.

Which as I said earlier, the way it's going may soon be illegal.