another undeck plug

yo gabba baba!

Someone once asked if I ever watch any good movies.

The answer is yes.

Tho' I rarely review them as it's really difficult to take the piss.

Case in point.....

Onibaba (鬼婆, 1964).
Dir: Kaneto Shindo.
Cast: Nobuko Otowa, Jitsuko Yoshimura, Kei Satō, Taiji Tonoyama and
Jūkichi Uno.

I'm not a demon! I'm a human being!

The place: Japan, the time: round about the Battle of Minatogawa during the Nanboku-chō period - and probably around lunchtime on a Wednesday by the look of it.

And yes I can tell that just by the height of the reeds and the angle of the sun I'm that good.

Anyway rushing thru' the aforementioned reeds are two wounded warriors fleeing from a group of soldiers on horseback in a scene so well staged that Franklin J. Schaffner would steal it wholesale from Planet Of The Apes four years later.

Hiding in the big bushes till their hunters have passed our unlucky twosome are fairly surprised when out of nowhere - well out from behind some tall grass but you know what I mean - two women spear the pair to death and stealing their armour and weapons before dropping the bodies in a nearby hole.

Which is nice.

The women - fright-browed Brenda (movie star cum mistress to the director Otowa) and her boyish and bouncy daughter-in-law Betty (Pigs and Battleships and Dodes'ka-den star Yoshimura) return to their tiny, ramshackle hut and settle down for the evening.

Well cold blooded killing does take it out of you.

"私は彼らのうちの1人が私のお尻を泳いで欲しくない！"

The next morn the pair take their ill-gotten booty to the local tomb-toothed merchant Jeff Ushi (Tonoyama star of almost every Japanese film made between 1939 and 1989 including the fantastic Katsushika Hokusai biopic Hokusai Manga) to trade for food.

Tho' not soap or washing powder judging by the black rings round their necks.

Seriously you can smell the stale sweat, egg and yeast thru' the screen.

Offering them a measly two bags of rice for the lot the pair begrudgingly accept, complaining as they pack their bags about his lack of compassion and general greediness.

Ushi agrees that he's maybe been a wee bit tight so offers an extra bag if he's allowed to touch Brenda's thighs.

Unimpressed she angrily storms off in a huff.

Which is a shame because they're quite breath-taking for an old girl.

Heading home the mismatched maidens pass the time by discussing the war raging around them, it seems that Brenda's son Tony left to fight years back so the pair have been looking out for each other ever since.

But all that is about to change with the return of their next door neighbour - the local wide-boy and best pal of her son, Brian Hachi (Satō, star of Kuroneko and Seven Samurai) who after scoffing most of their supper informs Brenda that her son is dead.

But the food isn't the only thing he has his - milky- eye on for it seems he has a soft (oh go on then semi-soft and getting harder) spot for Betty.

And it appears that she may feel the same.

Saucy.

あなたは緊張を感じることができます....または、チーズとタマネギのモンスターが狂っていますか？

One day as the ladies are washing their pants in the stream as Brian lazily catches fish a pair of angry samurai (are there any other kind?) ride by having a massive fight.

In any other movie this would be unusual but not here.

Oh no.

Leaping from their horses and into the water the pair continue fighting, oblivious to the trio watching them from the river's edge.

As one of the shouty samurai approaches them for help, Hachi drops his fishing rod and violently stabs him with his spear whilst the ladies drown his adversary, taking the still wet armour to sell to stinky Jeff.

Whilst Brenda is away cutting a deal tho' horny Hachi finally seduces Betty and from then on the young woman sneaks from her hut every night to indulge in 'the  sex' with him.

Lucky sod.

It's not long before Brenda learns of their relationship and begins to formulate a plan to keep Betty for herself.

あなたは2回...

Unfortunately the plan involves standing astride him as he's trying to sunbathe and licking her lips whilst gyrating wildly to One Direction which has the effect of Hachi telling her in no uncertain terms to "性交する".

 

Despondent, depressed and feeling tres dowdy Brenda heads home alone.

私はあなたを愛しています...それは魔法でもいいですか？

That  night, while Hachi and Betty are together, a lost samurai (Tora-san's Sunrise and Sunset's Uno) in a terrifying Hannya mask appears at Brenda's window, threatening to kill the woman if she refuses to guide him safely thru the reeds.

Walking at swordpoint (well it's the nearest she's gonna get to having a guy stick something in her) thru' the swaying reeds Brenda becomes bored with the samurai's constant chat and tales of how handsome, daring and bold he is so in a fit of pique tricks him into falling into the pit where her and Betty dispose of their victims.

Climbing down herself she steals his armour and possessions before attempting to remove his mask.

Tugging and pulling away (well she is very lonely) it finally comes free revealing the fallen samurai's hideous scarred visage.

Returning home with her spoils Brenda sits alone gazing at the mask and suddenly realizes it may come in useful if she wishes to 'save' Bettie from Hachi's lustful embrace.....

 



No idea what to say about Onibaba that hasn't been said a thousand times before and by folk who can actually write but fuck it I'll do my best.


One of the greatest - and most influential - movies of all time, Kaneto Shindo's Onibaba is a beautifully shot, starkly realized waking nightmare of a movie that's as darkly disturbing as it is icily erotic.


Based on a Shin Buddhist parable the director heard as a child, Shindo transforms the tale from one of Brothers Grimm-style child-based cannibalism into a darkly disturbing story of sex, death and random acts of violence that spiral uncontrollably to a climax laced with supernatural tendencies and a foreboding, ever more suffocating sense of paranoia.


Cast to perfection and with cinematography to die for from the genius of longtime Shindo collaborator Kiyomi Kuroda, Onibaba is one of those rare films that transcends mere cinema to become a work of art.


A wee bit like Zombie Lake obviously.


Onibaba's richly ravishing darkness can be seen in everything from Nagisa Oshima's In The Realm Of The Senses to Takashi Miike's Audition via the aforementioned Planet of The Apes, Hideo Nakata's Ringu, David Lynch's Blue Velvet and even The Force Awakens (Rey's occupation on Jakku, her 'awakening' - as a Force user as opposed to sexually when confronting Kylo Ren in his 'demon' mask for example) amongst others, cementing it's place as quite possibly the greatest - and sexiest - psychological horror not just to come out of Japan but probably of all time.


Utter unadulterated genius.


Oh yeah and Nobuko Otowa gives probably the most scarily sexual eyebrow based performance ever captured on celluloid.


Just saying.


Don't worry I'll be back to watching shite before you know it.

the undeck rises.

Beware of the UnDeck!

The website dedicated to this frankly fantastic deck of playing cards is now live, a real labour of love, the set harks back to the glory days of VHS, video nasties and classic Zombie films.

C'mon what's not to love?

The cards are available to buy RIGHT NOW so go treat yourself.

Or treat a loved one.

Living or dead.

Follow this link for order details.

End of plug. 

a fistful of argento

A blast from the past.....presenting a - very - brief, slightly condescending yet incredibly bizarre interview conducted by the tartan temptress herself 'kinky' Kirsty Wark, showcasing Argento's painful lack of fluency in English, his infamous home haircut and his fantastic use of the 'errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr' noise in interviews.
 
Can you spot Luigi Cozzi skulking around the shelves of Profondo Rossi obviously searching for the remains of his career?

He'd be better off rummaging thru the bins.

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 66).

In tribute to the inauguration of Trump and the end of civilization as we know it let's hark back to simpler - and way sexier - times.

Ladies and gentlemen I present  Alice Roosevelt. 

Daughter of Teddy Roosevelt and the first princess of America.

sin-sational.

A brand new yeare but the same old shite in my DVD glory hole.

Well, I might as well start as I mean to go on.

Which by the looks of things will be hunched over a keyboard frantically cracking one off to dodgy sixties soft core porn but there you go.

The Girl from SIN (1966).
Dir: C. Davis Smith.
Cast: Jackie Richards (AKA Joyana) , Barbara Kemp, Bob Oran, Carol Evans, Mary O'Hara, June Roberts and others.

Panda eyed and pendulously breasted villainous vixen Poontang Plenty (AKA Agent 0069, played to pouting perfection by Richards, the star of such hits as Dominique in Daughters of Lesbos and She Came by Bus) is crime syndicate SIN's top terrorizing tottie who, alongside SIN's pot bellied leader, Dr. Jeff Sexus (mega man breasted producer Oran), plans on taking over the world from inside the local Chinese restaurant using only the power of 'the sex'.

Oh and professor Charlie Drake's (director Smith) invisibility pill obviously.

Yup, using only an old fridge, some spark plugs, a Mickey Mouse Club torch and the fuse from a discarded vacuum cleaner the nutty professor has managed to create the ultimate covert accessory.

Totally by accident of course.

You see he was actually working on a pill to cure hemorrhoids but his plain-Jane secretary, in a blind moment of panic after seeing a mouse scuttle across the lab floor took the pill to calm down thinking it was a tranquillizer.

Sounds legit.

Being a clichéd film inventor Charlie is hoping that his invention will benefit all mankind (in what way is never explained tho') but SIN it seems have their own immoral ideas.

Ideas that involve all manner of gratuitous tit shots, moldy back room massages, shoddy seduction techniques and craptacular kung-fu fighting.

But ain't that always they way?

He looks pretty pleased with himself at the
moment but just wait till the fisting starts.

Anyway it's back to the plot where the producer has realised that there might not be quite enough mileage for skin with all these spy shenanigans so the movie takes a quick detour into suburbia where we're introduced to henpecked hubby Henry - a character so wet and inconsequential that the actor isn't even credited.
Henry by the way is a greasy balding fuck suffering from penile dysfunction caused, in part by pock thighed, lard arsed wife insisting on doing everything from knitting to cooking naked.

Just like your dad.

And don't forget that dysfunction is hereditary.

You're welcome.

Henry tho' has a dark secret that no-one, not even his spotty spouse knows.

Can you guess what it is dear reader?

Yes, Henry collects model ships and boats.

It's only the 9th January and I'm already losing the will to live.

Attending a 'model auction' one day, Henry ends up inadvertently bidding on a big trunk he thinks contains a huge model of the Bismarck constructed entirely from the teeth of dead tramps but after returning home and excitedly open the box he's disappointed to find not and enamel warship but Drake's diary and invisibility formula.

Henry suddenly realizes that this could be the answer to all his problems.

You see, his local GP has just written him a prescription for adultery in the hope of curing his limp dick so the by now very horny Henry decides to use the invisibility pill in order to spy on his hot neighbour Ginger.

The only problem is that whenever he sneezes he reappears.

Seriously you couldn't make this shit up.

Your mum in the outfit I got her for Christmas.

How will these plot threads collide?

Will Poontang Plenty keep her clothes on for longer than ten minutes at a time?

Will there be any more frankly disturbing scenes of her giving a toe job to a really sweaty man with bunions?

And more importantly will any of the cast actually speak?

All round odd job man, disciple of Dame Doris of Wishman and part-time director (and I use that term lightly) C. Davis Smith's pervy panto of heavy petting is a sensationally skuzzy piece of no-fi nudie trash from the age that cellulite forgot that's about as erotic as catching your Nan blowing the dog and as funny as a cancerous cock.

And that's being kind.

Too cheap to have a dialogue track, the entire sordid tale is told in a monotonous voice-over supplied by Smith himself, filmed on location in somebodies shed and populated by a cast of has beens and never weres seduced from the aforementioned Wishman's regular bunch of actors with promises of cheap booze and crisps.

Standing out (well actually just standing about if I'm honest) amongst this Thespian forest of MDF mediocrity are big Bob Oran, all high waist silky Aladdin trousers, hairy shoulders and a face like a bulldog licking piss of a broken bottle whilst the single syllabled, double barrelled Joyana is a vision of milky thighs and wobbly sixties breasts topped off with the face of a council estate scrubber, he black rimmed dead eyes not unlike those of a hungry shark.

She's the kind of girl you can imagine sharing a kebab (alongside bodily fluids) with, the grease dripping down her neck as you rut like beasts against the piss covered wall behind the taxi rank on a particularly drunken night out.

Exactly like your mum if you're honest.

Ask your 'Uncle' Jack if you don't believe me.

Germs.

Saying that tho' it's still worth sitting thru' (but please skip the 8 minute silent seduction/assassination scene that opens the movie if you want to keep your sanity) especially if you're a fan of Joyana (AKA Jackie Richards, Maxine, Lorrie Saunders, Lee Taylor and your Mum probably) and her dirty bird ways.

Oh yes and if you find the thought of really ugly people having sex and dancing badly a massive turn on.

Hmmm, just me then?

bible belt.

Just thought I'd point out that this'll be a shorter review than usual (thank fuck I hear you cry) but frankly there's really not much plot here to spell out and I really wanted to use this as a warning to others.

I received this thru' the post from a pal for Christmas (thanks Hernandez) who knows I like 'the wee comic books' and thought I'd enjoy this live action version of the infamous Tijuana Bible.

I really wish he hadn't bothered tho', life is really too short.

For those of you of a sensitive disposition (or who have a life outside this seedy world of zed grade movies and general badness) here's the science part so pay attention.

The Tijuana Bible, the granddaddy of all of man's masturbation material, appeared long before the nudie cutie magazine and the stag film and usually consisted of a lewd 8 page strip small enough to hide in your trouser pocket.

If you want any more info ask your granddad.

Or better still your nan because I have a few that she modeled for.

Well way back in 1973 someone decided that what the world of entertainment needed was a living breathing version of this very thing.

God help us.

Ladies and gentlemen I give you:

Sex in the Comics (1973).
Dir: Eric von Letch.
Cast: Reggie Balls, Bella Bush, Rick Cassidy, Orita De Chadwick and Cyndee Summers.

Blonde bombshell journalist Helen Flange is preparing to interview the famous cartoonist Terry Quim about his vast body of work but, on arriving at his 'studio' (in reality some poor sods shed - it may be the one from The Girl From SIN) Quim is more interested in lecturing Helen on the history of the Tijuana Bible.

Slightly disappointed to not be getting her interview (tho' it would be a different film if she did) the artist tries his best to persuade her that the history lesson will be even more fun and, after a few minutes she's willing to let him give her one.

Replacing Michael Myers with the ghost of Tommy Cooper was the final nail in the coffin for Rob Zombie's Halloween franchise.

Cue the world renowned wobbly-O-screen effect - or it may just be a crap transfer I don't know - as the entire film reforms in a haze of marker pen scribbled, brightly painted scenery into a world populated by pointed breasted, big hipped whores and fat, skinny legged men wearing sinister giant papermache heads who spout arse numbing dialogue lifted directly from the 1930's comics.

It's like a junior school version of The Benny Hill Show with a script by an exceptionally overactive 5 year old.

But with much more (and much hairier) bush.

Obviously.

John Leslie - The park-keeper years.

But the scary surrealism doesn't stop there, it continues into the multitude of sex scenes too.

In one vignette the penis of one particularly bulbous headed men grows to such a huge size that it starts to pop in and out of an unfortunate girl's mouth, later on a porn mustached, cock nosed lifeguard (baring a frightening resemblance to one of the Chuckle Brothers) is driven into a sexual frenzy by a hula dancers erotically charged ukulele playing whilst, in my personal favourite scene some carnie bloke gets his heaving, sweaty testicles caught up in tattooed woman's overgrown lady garden.

Ken Russell's version of The Rainbow this aint.

Well, obviously not, seeing as this doesn't feature Paul McGann's thrusting buttocks.

McGann's arse: bigger on the inside.

But if all this wasn't enough to give you sleepless nights then the film's drug addled editing just might, full as it is of slash-tastic jump cuts, cat scratches and bizarre freeze frames thrown in at random intervals obviously just to scare the audience awake whilst the 'artist' delivers a - factually accurate, I kid you not - voice-over discussing how the politics and the culture of the period affected the creation, growth and eventual demise of the Tijuana Bible phenomenon.

"You want to do what in mah mooth?"

I really don't know what's more frightening tho', the fact that this ever got a green light or the fact that someone, somewhere has a wee Barclays to this on a daily basis.

Sleep tight.

oi! donald!

I think I've found your hackers......*

*With thanks to ‏@PulpLibrarian

gorgeous gorga.

The kids are still on holiday and this is what they've chosen as todays viewing pleasure.


They must really hate me.

The Mighty Gorga (1969)
Dir: David L Hewitt.
Cast: Anthony Eisley, Megan Timothy, Scott Brady, Kent Taylor and a huge monkey.

"Oh, Mighty Gorga! I know your thirst for the blood of young maidens is great! But I pray you, leave our village in peace! Soon! Soon the invaders will be upon our plateau and you can destroy them! And then once again I will summon you to our Altar of Life and you can once again drink the blood of the maiden."

Our tale opens somewhere in a mysterious corner of the Congo where spooky music plays and scary plastic skulls sit jauntily atop a variety of odd sized sticks.


Did I say the Congo cos it sounds just like Dudley on a Friday night if I'm honest.

But unlike my home town it's soon revealed that the skulls aren't just there to scare away peg-selling gypsies but are actually part of a hastily constructed sacrificial altar to which a buxom 'native' girl is tied, wriggling and writhing to free herself as a huge hairy shadow looms overhead.

Which does indeed beg the question as to how a shadow can be hairy.

Must be dust on the print.

"Grraarrrr!!"

Meanwhile in the good ol' US of A, Mark Remington (Eisley - star of The Wasp Woman and Journey To The Centre Of Time amongst other classics, oh and Knots Landing) the devilishly handsome, hard drinking, chain smoking - but not too surprisingly with those vices skint - owner of a circus needs money quick if he's to save his business.

Believing that only a fantastic new exhibit will wow the kids back under his big top (sounds rude) he uses his remaining cash to finance a trip to Africa in the hopes of being able to 'hook up' with world famous trapper - and owner of the best porn name never used - Tonga Jack (Brides of Blood's Taylor).

You see Tonga has recently written to Mark regarding a legendary giant ape thing that lives in the Congo (but not on Um Bongo) reckoning that it might just be the attraction he's looking for.

Unsurprisingly Mark plans to capture the beast using a bag of bananas and a huge mousetrap and pop him in his circus clad in a top hat and revolving bowtie.

What could possibly go wrong with this plan?

On arrival in Africa Mark first decides to visit a local zoo - giving the director ample opportunity to pad out the film with grainy stock footage of wild animals - to 'study' apes in their natural habitat (because we all know that they really enjoy living in tiny concrete cells) before heading out into the jungle to meet up with Tonga so they can start the adventure - and by default the film - good and proper.

Tho' it makes you wonder what the animals, carnies and dwarves he's left back home are living on seeing as he's spent all the cash on what appears to be a holiday.

"Fiona where's mah lunch?"

Arriving at Tonga's jungle pad Mark is dismayed to learn that the trapper is missing following an ill-fated trip to Aldi for supplies and that his stuck up daughter April (busty Brit Bettie Page-alike and star of Confessions of A Sexy Super Vixen Timothy) is now in charge of the trapper empire.

Being a mere woman and not knowing anything about manly pursuits like trapping and the like it turns out that she's spent all the money on pink fizz, make-up and scratchcards so her business is in financial trouble too.

Arse.

"Meow!"

If that wasn't enough strife for one film it turns out that a rival trapper, Dan 'no nickname' Morgan (Sheriff Frank from Gremlins himself, Brady) is obsessed with getting his dirty-nailed sausage fingers not just on Tonga's compound but on - and in - poor April too and will stop at nothing to achieve these aims, including setting fire to the animals kept therein.

Which does beg the question as to why he'd want to buy a burnt out, animal-less building in the middle of the jungle but each to their own.

Mark, being a smooth talking kinda fella - and desperate for some lovin' -  offers to split the cash he'll get for capturing the massive monkey with April if she'll help him, subtly mentioning the huge bag of gold guarded by the ape during the conversation too.

What a guy.

Jumping for joy (luckily she's wearing a good bra) at the thought of all that cash  and no doubt at the thought of massive monkey cock - c'mon she has needs too - April decides to join the adventure so armed only with a cap gun, aided by three extras from the Black and White minstrel show and using a crayoned map made by her missing dad the dynamic duo head off into the jungle.

"Where are those fucking Chewits?"

Unbeknown to our heroes mental Morgan is in hot pursuit.

Making their way further and further into the dense jungle (OK, the park behind the directors house) Mark is - fairly - surprised when he stumbles across a towering plateau populated by dinosaurs.


Tho' to be honest how you can just 'stumble across a plateau' really confuses me.

We've no time to think about such trivialities tho' as April has come across some giant eggs and wanting to prove herself to be a real woman to Mark she's decided they'd be great boiled and served with toast.

Whilst attempting to find a pot big enough to pop them in Mark and April are shocked when the mummy dinosaur, returning from the shops after buying nappies decides to attack them.

Our hero lets rip with his cap gun firing at what appears to be a child's toy held up close to the camera whilst a bored technician goes "Grrarrr!" a lot but all seems lost when they discover that plastic dinosaurs are impervious to bullets.

Luckily the Mighty Gorga arrives in the nick of time and in a scene as ludicrous as it is insane (especially on this budget) wrestles the scary Tyrannosaurus to death.

"Put it in me!"

Eying up the beast (as in Gorga not April) Mark formulates a plan.

He plans to drug - the 40 foot high - gorilla then roll him down the mountain on bumper sized discarded kitchen roll tubes onto a waiting airplane before flying him back to the States and his circus.

Let's be honest it really is a crap plan but a plan never the less.

Fuck me it's Fred Titmuss!

Will Mark's plan succeed?

Will a scary tribe turn up wanting to sacrifice April to the monkey?

And will she find her dad?*
There's only one way to find out cos if I had to sit thru' this then you can too.

Usually this is the bit where I go into the films background, it's director, cast etc. but I really don't have the words to adequately sum up the experience of watching The Mighty Gorgo, it's easier just to list five main reasons why it must be seen.

1. They could only afford the top half of a gorilla suit so you only see Gorgo from the waist up.

2. According to this movie there are only three real black people in Africa - everyone else is a white person covered in gravy browning.

3. A man in (the top half of) a gorilla suit fighting a kiddies toy dinosaur toy held shoddily close to the camera.

4. Anthony Eisley's quiff.

5. Megan Timothy's eyebrows and arse.


Buy it now or more realistically just watch the trailer on Youtube even tho' if I'm honest that requires way more effort than this film deserves.








































*In case you really can't be arsed the answer is yes and yes to the last two by the way.

stage shite.

New year, classic movies, same old catchphrases.

Welcome to 2017.

Finally caught up with this gem last night (yup we really know how to celebrate Hogmanay here in Unwell Towers) so thought I'd share.

I wont give to much away tho' seeing as from what I can gather only about six people have ever viewed it.

Yup it's that good.

The Killer Reserved Nine Seats (AKA L’ Assassino ha riservato nove poltrone, 1974).
Dir: Giuseppe Bennati.
Cast: Rosanna Schiaffino, Christea Avram, Eva Czemerys, Lucretia Love, Paola Senatore, Gaetano Russo, Andrea Scotti, Eduardo Filipone, Luigi Antonio Guerra, Howard Ross and Janet Agren.

"It looks like Dracula's Summer house!"

During a birthday bash for cheese-chested silver fox Patrick Davenant (Star Odyssey's Avram), one of the guests (doesn't matter who - it's all back story) suggests that it'd be a good laugh if they all drove to a deserted theatre in the middle of the English countryside (fantastically played by a country road somewhere outside Rome) for some reason or other that isn't worth mentioning.

I mean come on we've got killings and lipstick lesbianism to get to.

Accompanying the birthday boy on this merry jaunt is his harsh-faced fiancé Kim (genre regular Agren), his sister Rebecca (Czemerys who doesn't appear to be wearing any pants) and her lover Doris (evil pixie Love), his frighteningly ginger daughter Lynn (Senatore) alongside her creepily camp - tho' that just may be the dubbing - boyfriend Duncan (Russo), the sexily bearded Doctor Albert (Scotti) alongside his wife (and Patrick’s former flame) Vivian (council estate Faye Dunaway Schiaffino) and the big-haired bastard Russell (Werewolf Woman's Ross, looking for all the world like a childs photofit picture of Robert Davi).

But what would a giallo be without a mysterious man in a Nehru-collared suit  and a massive 'world of the strange' gold medallion?

Probably a wee bit more entertaining - and a lot less clichéd but heyho.

This nameless man (portrayed with all the charisma of a shoddily constructed wooden sex toy by the Lego-haired Eduardo Filipone) seems to have been to the theatre before, being as he is quite familiar with his surroundings.

And all this despite the fact that the place has been closed for a century.

The cast really should have figured out things were going to go tits up when he announces in that deadpan way reserved exclusively for cut-price Eurohorror actors "I spent a night here once.....100 years ago."

Being the way in these movies the rest of the cast just shrug their shoulders and cut daggers at each other.

Me?

I'd have given him a round of applause for delivering the line with such a straight face.

I didn't give him this....but I did give your mum a pearl necklace on Christmas Eve.

Tho' to be honest when he turns to camera and slyly announces that "The actors are present and now the play may start…" I was all set to punch him in his smug supercilious face.

Right on cue a pair of black gloved hands drop a large piece of wood from the rafters that almost kills Patrick setting in motion a series of terrifying events and random breast shots as the cast of almost-weres and has beens are bitching, kissing and cursing their way thru a variety of more and more elaborately style murder set pieces.

In between bouts of uncomfortable lesbianism, big panted perving and - thanks to an impromptu performance by Kim - a wee bit of Romeo and Juliet as she acts out the heroine's death scene.

Who says horror movies can't be educational too?

Decked out in a handy Edwardian bodice Kim gives it her all during Juliet's death scene before slumping to the ground with a dagger in her back.

Which makes a change from her usual habit of taking it up the arse from all comers.

Allegedly.

As our frightened friends crowd round Kim's prone body (obviously hoping for a wee bit of boob spillage) dykey Doris spots a black-clad figure running  backstage and heads off in hot pursuit.

Well as hot as a 70's style middle-aged, polyester clad secretary can be I guess but each to their own.

...And there it is.

Whilst Doris plays Nancy Drew the rest of the of the cast are beginning to panic.

Not only have they discovered that no-one save the director is getting paid but also that the theatre's doors have all mysteriously locked from the outside leaving them trapped.

And in Lynn and Duncan's case desperate for a quick shag.

Tho' given the choice Lynn would rather it be her dad sticking it in her.



Cue ten minutes of uncomfortable nipple nibbling and scary stroke faces as Rebecca gazes lustfully at her niece from a nearby cupboard.

Meanwhile Doris has caught up with the killer and in an attempt to stop him killing her decides to flash her tits at him whilst purring like a cat.

Temporarily blinded by the glare from her milky white chest the killer stumbles giving our man-haired maiden time to escape.

Unfortunately she soon trips over one of her nipples and is  quickly dispatched by the mysterious mentalist via a sliding door cum storage box.

With the surviving cast - and let's face it the audience - at a loss to what the fuck is going on Patrick helpfully explains that the theatre is cursed.

Which is nice.

You see exactly a hundred years ago this very night a group of party-goers visited this very spot for a wee bout of shits and giggles only to find themselves locked in and, when the doors were finally opened they were all found dead.

And mutilated.

And covered in egg, blood, sweat and semen.

Well probably not the last bit.

Dog blanket.

As the body count rises our groovy group realise that there may be more to the curse than meets the eye and that a painting found in the theatre library (?) depicting the horrific events of the night before they happen - and in glorious Crayola colour to boot - may hold the key to the mystery at hand.

Tho' not the mystery of how the fuck this thing got greenlit with such a threadbare and nonsensical script.

Don't worry too much dear readers as the fairly graphic killings (well one of them) and the copious amounts of flesh on show more than make up for it. 

Probably.

From Writer/director Giuseppe Bennati - the man who directed the TV movie adaptation of Italo Calvino's BattleToads and the teen temptress teasing Red Lips, The Killer Reserved Nine Seats is an oft overlooked late entry into the Giallo cycle that blatantly steals the basic plot of Agatha Christie’s Ten Little Indians before hitting the bottle and introducing more and more wildly bizarre plot twists and turns -  everything from spooky ghosts, family curses to incest and luscious lesbians are randomly throw into the mix in the hope that some of it will stick to the (paper thin) walls of the plot and cover the cracks.

And scarily it almost succeeds.

Let's be honest you know a film is doing something right when you're more concerned whether Eva Czemerys is wearing underwear beneath her frankly terrifying togs than if the plot makes sense.

And for this alone we salute your courage Mr Bennati.

If not your sanity.

Eva Czemerys - Feeling a little horse.

And what the film (admittedly) lacks in logic, cohesive plotting and convincing performances it more than makes up for with its fantastic location and set pieces which no doubt went some way to influence the setting of Dario Argento's Opera and at least one of the kills is copied wholesale inMichele Soavi’s Stagefright.

Sure on reflection the films plot makes absolutely no sense but who cares when it looks as lovely as it does thanks to Giuseppe Aquari's lush cinematography.

Kudos too to composer Carlo Savina for his groovy score that bravely replaces normally expected shock cues with a rumba beat and wah-wah chase music.

As an aside it was Savina's - stock - scores that were used for the majority (79 episodes) of The Phil Silvers Show which is bizarre in itself.

See? You wont find nuggets like that on the BFI site.

But their well written articles about films that folk actually care about probably makes up for it.

Pants.

Worth looking out for just to impress girls with the knowledge that you've seen it, The Killer Reserved Nine Seats deserves to find a wider audience than it currently has.

As a bonus I've set 2017's bar so low that I'll be surprised if I'm disappointed by any movie this year.