mr. blobby.

Picked this lil' gem up in Fopp for a meager 6 quid t'other day (I was meant to be buying stuff for my school trip but heyho) cos I'd never seen it before.

Shocking I know.

Caltiki the Immortal Monster (1959).
Dir: Riccardo Freda (and some bloke named Mario Bava, yeah me neither).
Cast: John Merivale, Didi Sullivan, Gerard Herter, Daniela Rocca, Daniele Vargas, Vittorio André, Giacomo Rossi Stuart and Arturo Dominici.

The garden is filled with monsters!

Somewhere in the jungles/deserts of Mexico (or at least a pretty good studio approximation of them) a crack team of archaeologists are busy trying to find out why the local people up and left all those centuries ago.

Obviously the active volcano in the background has nowt to do with it.

All this hard work is disturbed when one of the team -  Dr Barry Nieto (Dominici from Black Sunday) stumbles sweatily into the basecamp dribbling and ranting about something called 'Caltiki'.

Enter (not literally mind, tho' he does have the air of a bonier David Tennant about him so I'd be tempted) Professor John Fielding (Circus of Horrors Merivale) who alongside his grumpy colleague Dr Max Gunther (Herter...yes he probably did) vainly attempt to find out just what the fuck Nieto is rambling about.

Sick of having his spittle sprayed over them and almost vomiting from the smell of boiled onions permeating from his unwashed manbreasts the pair leave Nieto in the care of Fielding's wife Ellen (the big-haired Perego) and Max's squeeze - the 'half-breed', pigtailed ex-prostitue Linda (Rocca, covered in gravy browning).

No idea why they're there - perhaps it was a 'bring your spouse to work' week, whatever the reason is tho' Ellen is not too happy about it and isn't afraid to tell her hubbie this.

Almost constantly.

Max - having no social skills as well as a head shaped like a pencil - mistakes all this complainy chat for a come on and seductively offers to put it in Ellen who politely rebukes his advances leaving him to start bitching at poor Linda.

Being the 50s she just stands there meekly and takes it.

The verbal abuse that is not his warty cock.

Glad that's sorted.

Harsh.

Meanwhile chubby man-boob Bob (Vargas from Spirits of the Dead not the one that draws the saucy lady pics) is busying himself filming the local girl(s) taking part in a seductive ceremonial dance that they hope will placate the aforementioned Caltiki, as is they way with men he's far too busy drooling over the dancers smooth thighs (and massive grey pants)  to think about asking them what the fuck Caltiki actually is.

The locals soon spot his massive girth hiding behind a bush tho' and angrily warn him that filming such things will bring the wrath of Caltiki down upon them all so a crestfallen Bob heads back to his tent for a tearful wank and a Pot Noodle.

The next morn John, Max, and Bob set out toward the cave that Nieto was exploring in the hope of finding out not only what sent him mental but also their still missing pal Brian - who it turns out took the rucksack with all the sweets in when the pair went exploring.

Unfortunately all they find tho' is Brian's camera, lying on the bank of an underground river watched over by an ancient statue which John cleverly identifies as the fable Caltiki.

Shit...Gene Wilder has let himself go.

 Heading back to the camp the trio quickly develop the film and settle down, popcorn in hand, to watch because if nothing else there may be a few lighthearted comedy pratfalls captured which means at least 50 quid from You've Been Framed which will pay for half the drinks budget.

Well beggars can't be choosers*.

It turns out that whilst jumping about and posing on the statue the pair were attacked by an unseen assailant so armed with this information the three brave archaeologists head back to the cave for another look and a better examination of the lake.

OK it's a pond.

Well more like a kids paddling pool stuck in the middle of the set and hastily decorated.

Luckily for them Bob is a qualified diver (tho' not I'm afraid a real welder) and he's soon squeezed himself into his wet-suit in order to take the plunge into an underground lake cleverly played - thanks to some smart editing - by the local swimming pool where he discovers a veritable underwater graveyard.

John informs the others - and us -  that the locals used to offer human sacrifices to Caltiki by throwing them into the water alongside all their jewelry, which means that there's loads of ancient treasure for the taking.

Imagining how many whores (and pies) he could buy with all that loot, Bob quickly starts to gather it up in his Aldi carrier bag but is soon attacked by an unseen assailant.

Noticing that something is wrong Max and Paul haul him to the surface only to find their portly pal dead, his flesh somehow removed totally from his bones.

You'd assume that after eating Bob whatever did it must be stuffed but no the mysterious creature - which has the appearance of a huge binbag filled with shite - emerges from the lake and attacks John and Max.

Jimmy Savile: The return.

The pair run for cover only for Max to turn back in order to grab the treasure from Bob's corpse which as far as plans go is a wee bit of a silly one seeing as the beast lunges at him with a big soggy cock-like appendage and envelopes his arm.

Luckily John has a handy axe and succeeds in cutting the creepy cock enough to free his pal but not save the arm.

As the pair head toward the camp John notices the terrifying testicle beast lumbering (can testicles lumber?) toward them but thanks to some quick thinking he drives the expedition’s truck into the entrance of the cave where it explodes destroying the monster.

Phew.

We're only 20 minutes in tho' so either this is a really short film or the bits of beast still stuck to Max's rotten arm are going to be re-animated at some point.

Can you guess which it is?

Arriving back home John tasks himself - alongside famed Professor of otherworldy bollocks Rod Rodriguez (André, star of Riusciranno i nostri eroi a ritrovare l'amico misteriosamente scomparso in Africa?) and his assistant Beaker (Last Man on Earth's Rossi Stuart) - with finding a way to counteract the poisons the creature injected into Max while it was digesting his arm.

Which kinda makes a change from growing mold in petri dishes and inhaling helium for a laugh I guess.

Daphne and Celeste: Sausage up a close.

After much study - and even more chin stroking they soon discover that not only is the creature, despite it's size a single cell organism but that it is, in fact, at least twenty million years old.

An immortal monster if you will.

An immortal monster that thrives on radiation.

Well I'm impressed.

Unfortunately they seem to have become so preoccupied with studying Caltiki that they've completely forgotten about curing poor Max who is - even as we speak - slowly going mad (and very scabby) due to the monster muck coursing thru' his veins.

Friends eh?

Spice Girls number one for Christmas.....MONSTA!

Anyway it's immaterial as Max - bored with bedbaths and doctors sticking things in him - breaks out of the hospital and heads to John's house in the hope of persuading Ellen to let him put it in her.

To confuse things even further it appears that Linda is staying with the family and comes across Max skulking in the basement, seeing as she loves him she offers to help him in his quest and sneaks him bottles of milk and egg and cress sandwiches whilst no-one is looking.

It isn't going to go well for her is it?

If that wasn't enough drama for one movie it appears that Professor Rodriguez has discovered that according to legends pertaining to Caltiki,there's a spooky prophecy that tells of a 'mate' for the goddess that supposedly came  from the sky.

Research shows that this refers to a passing comet whose radiation awoke the beast.

And wouldn't you know it that same comet is even now rapidly approaching Earth causing the remaining bits of Caltiki to begin stirring....

Coming across as the unholy lovechild of Quatermass and The Thing From Another World, director Ricardo Freda's Caltiki The Immortal Monster is a satisfying slice of sci-fi shock mixed with a smidgen of the kind of gothic horror in which Mario Bava excelled.

Often ignored when it comes to the history of Italian horror, the movie is finally getting the love it deserves and not just because of the involvement of the legendary director.

Re-teaming with Freda two years after they collaborated on I Vampiri - the first Italian horror film with sound fact fans - Bava was the films second unit director and lighting technician as well as creating the special effects on show and his trademark style is evident from the get go, from his signature cut and paste matte style to some quite graphic (for the time) make-up effects via long lingering shadows and pin-sharp compositions the film screams Bava from every sprocket hole.

But whilst we go all fanboy over Bava let's not forget Freda, who it was alleged purposely walked off the production in order to give Bava his directing break.

If this is true then that's something for which we should be eternally grateful.

And the fact that it's scary comet scenes obviously influenced LifeForce is another reason to love it.

What was it called again?

Gorgeously shot and with believable - if not too flashy - performances and some fantastic effects Caltiki is a gruesomely grand little movie that simply wants to thrill - and frighten - it's audience, a job which it does brilliantly.

Recommended and far too great a film to be sullied by being featured on this blog.

Probably.






















































*Except the one outside Central Station that is who, when I went to give him a pound the other day asked if I could just hand over the fiver from my wallet instead.

Cheeky bastard.

Aye Son.

misterio!

Welcome to the world of sexy Spanish language photostories!

Jacinda the lad need not apply.

At least I know what my Euro's are getting spent on next week.

lady gah gah!

A wee break from all that Spanish stuff I've been posting - what can I say? I get easily distracted.

Purchased this yonks ago as part of a 4 film DVD release alongside Grotesque, The Velvet Vampire and Time Walker.

That'll teach me to shop whilst drunk.

Anyway the lovely folk at Nucleus Films are releasing a fully restored, cleaned up and uncut version of it this year so thought I'd give the old one a final watch before I bin it in favour of theirs*.

Fickle? Me?



Lady Frankenstein (AKA Madame Frankenstein / Daughter of Frankenstein / La Figlia di Frankenstein. 1971).
Dir: Mel Welles.
Cast: Rosalba Neri, Joseph Cotten, Paul Müller, Peter Whiteman, Herbert Fux, Mickey Hargitay, Marino Masé AND Renate Kasché.

"I've been up all night with my husband. He's resting now."

Somewhere in deepest, darkest Europe sometime in the 1870s (or it could be the 1970s by the look of the sideburns) a terrifying trio of ghoulish grave robbers led by the evil Kenny Lynch (the brilliantly monikered Herbert Fux) are busy delivering a dead body (obviously) to Baron Brian Frankenstein (a scarily pissed up Cotten wearing so much foundation that he's beginning to resemble an Issac Asimov trilogy) and his camply pube haired assistant Dr. Marshall Cavendish (Famed rice maker, star of Nightmare Castle and father of Robert, Müller) for the purpose of their nefarious experiments.

So far so clichéd.

Yet still very, very comfy.

Does he now?

But it's not all re-animated corpses and pulsating pop bottle tho' as it seems that the good doctors daughter Tania (council estate Rachel Weiss, Neri) is coming to stay after recently graduating from scientist school.

Greeted upon her arrival by the visually stunning yet mentally impaired handyman cum Poundshop Udo Kier Thomas (Contamination's Lt. Tony Aris himself Masé) whose job it is to look after the ickle aminals that the Baron uses for his transplant experiments, Tania heads to her room to get changed into a new more exotic outfit.

Something she will do between every scene.

Seriously hair continuity alone must have been a nightmare.

Anyway, it transpires that all this animal husbandry is, in fact, a cover for the real experiments and Tania soon reveals to her dad that she has always know about his plan to create a creature entirely from dead bodies and is eager to help.

The Baron begrudgingly agrees before heading off to a hanging to celebrate.

It seems a sexy man is to be executed for crimes against fashion and Frankenstein can't wait to get his hands on his body.

Meanwhile local police Captain, Harris Tweed (Jayne Mansfield's ex and father of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit star Mariska, Hargitay - see? who says this blog isn't in depth?), is paying a visit to Lynch's house in order to warn him that he knows he's a bad man and just in case we hadn't realised this ourselves the director helpfully shows him drunkenly pawing a prostitute as he defiantly tells Harris to sod off.

The overwhelming smell of chives was just too much for Leslie Dixon.

Back at the main plot and the locals are busy cheering and jeering as the prisoner is transported to the gallows and not wanting to be accused of being lax at his job Harris arrives in order to hassle Lynch (again) about the amount of empty graves in the cemetery as well as to ogle Tania whilst imagining ski-ing down her milky white cleavage.

Or was it the other way round?

As night draws in Lynch and co. successfully steal the bad mans body and sneak it over to the Baron who alongside Marshall  manages to pop its brain into an already constructed body - and thanks to a handy electrical storm - re-animate it.

Unfortunately the lightning causes the bandages to catch fire leaving the poor sod with boss-eyes and a head that looks like a half-chewed caramel penis (Whiteman in what was unfortunately his only film role outside those super 8's he made with your gran).

"Shite in mah mooth ya undead bastard!"

As Marshall heads off to the cellar to fetch some booze to celebrate the creature stiffly rises from the operating table and grabs the Baron and hugs him to death (no really) before stomping off into the woods as Tania watches in horror from behind the laundry basket.

The next day Tania and Marshall decide - for some reason that escapes me -  to contact Captain Harris to say that a robber broke into the house and killed the Baron before stealing his prize pottery pig collection.

Maybe they're gonna put an insurance claim in?

Using his detective powers Harris deduces that from Marshall's description the police should be looking for a seven foot giant in a ladies blouse and with a head like a novelty condom.

Which say what you like about this movie that at least gives it the edge over The Bill.

As this is a classic of European cinema it's not too long before the screen is filled with a wee bit of tasteful (female) nudity as the creature comes across (not in a gooey off-white mess way obviously) a fairly unattractive couple having sex by a river.

Squashing the mans head the beast nimbly picks up the lady before tossing her into the water only to be found later by two fishermen who the creature then proceeds to kill.

Which is nice.

Remember when your girlfriend said she was going camping with her pals?

As the bodies keep piling up Harris is left no alternative but to shout at everyone whilst angrily stomping about in a nice cape as all the characters we've come to know and love (Lynch and his grave robbing pals) and some we've never met before (a farmer and his - way too young - wife) are all butchered by the bald-headed beast.

Back at the castle there's something else stirring as Tania goads Marshall into admitting that he loves her and would like to have some of 'the sex' with her.

Being a typical attractive lady she responds by saying that she'd allow him to put it in her if he had better hair and was about 20 years younger (tell me about it, it's almost like the director was copying parts of my life) but not to worry as she's found a solution.

You see it seems that Tania thinks Thomas is a bit of alright so persuades Marshall to help her kill the handyman so she can them place his brain in the Thomas' young studly body.

Sounds legit.

Marshall agrees so Tania seduces Thomas before suffocating him at the moment of climax.

Which if I'm honest isn't that bad a way to go.

Everything is going swimmingly until Thomas' sister Julia (Kasché whom you may remember as Zenzi in Kurt Nachmann's 1970 classic Naughty Knickers) arrives looking for him.

Tania says that he's gone on holiday to recover from the Barons death but Julia doesn't trust her so heads over to see Harris and after a good bitching session both decide that Tania is guilty.

Of what tho' neither are sure but it looks like Harris may be in with the chance of a shag so to hell with evidence.
 

Your mums cum face....trust me I know and so does your uncle peter.

Working from her fathers research and some hastily scribble lipstick notes written on the back of an old tampon packet and with time against her, Tania somehow manages to successfully transplants Marshall's brain into Thomas' body with little or no trouble at all and as a bonus Marshall now possesses super strength and the ability to speak with both his own and Thomas' voice, which will probably come in handy when Harris turns up in a minute to ask him about the robbery and if in fact it was committed by a monster him and the Baron had made in the basement.

Your mum and dads wedding photo.

Meanwhile (it's always meanwhile) the creature/beast/oh go on then Frankenstein's monster has finally arrived in town and is busying himself smashing everyones plant pots much to the towns-folks chagrin leaving them with only one option....

Torch Frankenstein's castle!

Which seeing as they have absolutely fuck all evidence that anything has happened there.

If anything the whole (over) reaction is based on nothing more than Julia saying she doesn't like Tania because she wears too much make-up.

Chasing the creature to the castle it is confronted by an axe-wielding  Marshall/Thomas/Thomshall and the pair engage in an almost homoerotically charged fight that culminates with the creature getting its arm chopped off and Tania stabbing the pair of them with a sword.

Dollar have let themselves go....

Marshall/Thomas/Thomshall although seeming a wee bit peeved at this decides to forgive Tania for sticking something in him and the pair strip naked and indulge in a sweaty bout of sexy stuff as the castle burns around them.

As Harris vainly tries to get the villagers to leave the burning castle Julia notices the glistening spunk encrusted form of her brother entwined around Tania like a bright pink fleshy snake violently thrusting his manroot into her freshly trimmed lady garden as an inferno rages around them, shouting his name she watches in horror (and it must be said slight arousal - or was that me?) as Marshall/Thomas/Thomshall slowly and methodically chokes Tania as the pair are engulfed by the flames.....

Although released in 1971, clinical psychologist, radio DJ, actor, writer and film director Mel Welles' Lady Frankenstein harks back to a simpler age coming across as a throwback to Roger Corman's 60s Poe output gleefully mixed with all the nudity and horror you'd expect from a Hammer film via the look of the best (and sometimes worst) Eurotrash classics of the time.

And that's no bad thing.

Whilst the plot - save for the slightly ahead of its time theme of female empowerment that was most likely accidental - is no great shakes and the make-up and effects border on the poundshop side of Halloween it's the performances that make the movie with Rosalba Neri** (credited here as Sara Bay) epitomizing everything we've come to know and love with regards to EuroHorror starlets.

Dusky, raven haired and with a touch of saucy sadomasochistic menace she dominates every scene (and every wardrobe change) in the movie and is worth the price of admission alone, the only person that comes close to matching her is the great Paul Müller, all crap-hair and poppy eyes coming across for all the world like a slightly fey, crack addled ferret/man hybrid made flesh.

Rosalba Neri- You would, I would, your granddad did. Twice.

  

 To be honest tho' it's a good job that the pair are so good as everyone else involved appears to be either drunk or sleeping - or in Joseph Cotten's case both - whilst rent-a-lunk Mickey Hargitay bravely stumbles about as if he's in a community centre production of Columbo where the entire cast has been dressed in market stall Elvis hand-me-downs whilst the sensational Herbert Fux makes us wonder why he didn't become a movie mega star or at the very least got to appear in panto, it takes a brave man to pull of skin-tight beige leggings and still look tough.

And if all that's not enough to convince you name another film where the supporting cast are so flimsy that you begin to notice the actors headwear?

Seriously at about the 30 minutes mark I realised that quite a few of the cast were sharing a green trilby, go watch it - it's true.

We then played a game of counting how many times and on how many different heads it appeared.

You try it too and write in with your results, there's a prize for the winner.

"I can see your house from here Peter!"

Despite - or because - of all that Lady Frankenstein is still a fantastically entertaining movie, at once a work of erotic genius with an added taste of nightmarish medical drama draped in comfy gothic trappings that are juxtaposed by an air of overall shoddiness that somehow adds to its charm and went some way to explaining why it became the biggest money-making female-based Frankenstein movie released in 1971.

Pre-order that BluRay now.





















*Plus I'm hoping they used my artwork for it, cos it's rather good even if I say so myself.






**If you're interested in seeing more of her work may I recommend Ottavio Alessi's 1969 erotic thriller Top Sensation that not only features Ms Neri playing a bikini-clad nympho but also stars Edwige Fenech as a pervy prostitute.

You can thank me later.

childline.

Going away to Spain with the Cassman and his class next week so thought it'd be good to get him up to date with some quality Spain-based cinema before we go.

See? 

This is parenting done right.

Quien Puede A Un Nino? (AKA Death Is Child's Play, The Killer's Playground, Island of the Damned, Who Can Kill a Child?, Would You Kill a Child? 1976)
Dir: Narciso Ibanez Serrador.
Cast: Lewis Fiander, Prunella Ransome, Antonio Iranzo and the cast of Byker Grove.

  "Do you think the other children will start playing the way we do?"

"Oh, yes...there are lots of children in the world. Lots of them."

A pair of  particularly posh English love birds, the mightily mustached Tom and the pountily pregnant poppet Evelyn (Doctor Who's drug dealing tinker Tryst from The Nightmare of Eden Lewis Fiander and victim of the Silurian plague Prunella Ransome) are enjoying a well deserved break from drinking Pimms, watching cricket and abusing the cleaner with a holiday in sunny Spain, taking in the local lifestyle (letting your hair get greasy, not washing, seducing underage girls etc - possibly) and traveling to various festivals buying carpets and the like.

Whilst ordering food in English and sniggering at the locals trousers like all Brits abroad obviously.

After much saucy fun, bikini clad frolicking, vast amounts of el cheapo Vino and a fairly serious chat about abortion (Tom wanted Evelyn to have one, she refused - see it's a kinda child killing thing isn't it? I see what they did there), Tom decides to finish the holiday with a visit to the beautiful island of Almanzora (these days frequented by such luminaries as Ian Botham and Daley Thompson fact fans) and the small village of Shi'moo where he had many a magical holiday as a small (non mustached) boy.

Hmmm...another child reference. 

This Serrador bloke is good.

But the couple get a shock when they arrive as the town is abandoned, the hotel is empty and the local restaurant is deserted. 

Worst of all tho' is that all the TeeVee's are broken and the corner shop is out of Take A Break magazines.
 
What has happened to this island paradise?

"Look! It's Fred Titmuss!"

Tom, being a hunky hero type  decides to play detective whilst  Evelyn, being in the fat lady pudding club, rests her swollen feet.

No sooner has Tom jauntily skipped down the road than a young girl pops up at a window and waves merrily at Evelyn before slowly creeping over and obsessively stroking our plump pals mummy tummy before smiling and running away.

Weird.

Returning to Evelyn empty handed save for a kiss me quick hat the pair - in a horror movie first - decide to explore together, soon coming across an old man sitting at the roadside.

I suppose that being heavily pregnant has put Evelyn off the sex so Tom has to get his jollies where he can.
 
But before the old fella can wipe himself down or even grunt "Aye son!" a small girl appears from nowhere and bludgeons him to death with his walking stick.
 
Kids eh?

Luckily the local kids fear the Bri-Nylon.

Finding the situation a wee bit strange and probably worthy of a bit of Scooby Doo style investigation Tom and Evelyn decide to follow the girl further inland, passing deserted cars, discarded teeth and many a battered skull along the way.

All belonging to adults.

Well obviously the cars belong to adults (they aren't toy ones) but I'm trying to build tension so stick with me.

It's not long before our dynamic duo have uncovered the terrifying - if fairly obvious - truth behind the killings....the children have become possessed by mentalism, murdering all the adults on the island.

To death!

Front bum, back bum, shitey mooth....three for a full hoose!

After school activities on Almanzora now include using dead peoples as piñatas, not brushing your teeth, skewering tourists and staying up all night to play Call of Duty on the PS4 whilst listening to Pixie Lott or something.

Yes, it's every adults nightmare.

Pixie Lott: Tunnel or funnel?

Tom and Evelyn, obviously au fait with the killer kiddies genre, decide it'd probably be for the best if they attempted to escape from these wannabe ASBO's by making their way to the up-market bit of town which - luckily - is populated by posh ex-pats (with even posher kids obviously), none of this council scum they keep finding around the streets where they are now.

See? 

Even more of that socio-political stuff, the director's a genius.

Just when everything seems like it's going to be OK (isn't that the way?) Tom makes a disturbing discovery, it appears that it only takes a sly look from those perishing pre-teens in the general direction of another child to pass of the madly murderous mentalism.

Tom and Evelyn are left with no choice but to fight back, the fate of their unborn child in their hands.

Well in Evelyn's tummy but you know what I'm getting at.

Pedants.

Begging for a mooth shite-in.

Unfortunately Tom's idea of fighting back is to lock himself and his wife in someones spare room and hope they can stay quiet enough to not attract any attention till the police turn up.

Which as far as escape plans go is up their with "Let's split up and search the woods for a way out alone!"

Hal Delrich would be proud.

Settling down for a well deserved rest (and maybe, just maybe a quick fondle of Evelyn's glorious globes) Tom's top seduction technique ("Oooh Evelyn I've got a pure steamer on!" probably) is interrupted when a blond small boy brandishing his large weapon bursts in on them.

Tom jumps into action, bitch-slapping the little shite before reluctantly shooting him in the arse, giving us a chance to not only see Fiander's Oscar calibre grief acting but to answer the question poised by the film's title.

This is getting all meta-textual init?

But this tearful wank and Pot Noodle moment brings only a brief period of calm for our cooped up couple as, without warning Evelyn starts leaking piss, shit and shame as her by now infected foetus murders her from within the womb.

Which I'll admit I didn't see coming.

As the sun rises on a new day, a weary Tom is left completely alone. 

Apart from a handy assault rifle that is.

And an obvious dislike of children.

Especially mental foreign ones.

A wee bit like all those folk who voted Brexit.

Shallow: Hal.

Violently grabbing the rifle, Tom decides (albeit a bit late in the day) to prove his worth as a  real man by running down to the harbour whilst firing indiscriminately into the crowds of kids and steal a boat back to the mainland.

Cue primal screams and comedy kid dancing as the bullets rip thru' row upon row of mad mini-people as Tom gingerly runs down the street before finally managing to cut the boat loose and head toward the open sea.

Wading into the water in an attempt to stop him leaving the children try desperately to overturn the boat as Tom valiantly tries to maim as many of them as he can.

Unfortunately (for him) Tom's world recording breaking infanticide attempt is cut short by the arrival of a Spanish police patrol boat, and the greasy crew mistakenly thinking that Tom has gone mad, shoot the poor sod dead.

Docking at the harbour, the officers begin tending to the wounded and asking the poor ickle children where their parents are.

One of the kids points toward town whilst the officer in charge asks no-one in particular the age old question "Who Can Kill a Child?"
 

Which is a wee bit silly seeing as the answer is the guy he just shot obviously.

As the three officers begin the short walk to the shops (it's thirsty work killing tourists) one of them notices a small group of children sharing out the guns on the boat, turning to stop them the trio are confronted by a small moonfaced girl who waves them Goodbye just before one of the boys shoots the three dead.

As the sun begins to set the children split into small groups, all the easier to infiltrate the mainland...

Murphy's Mob: the ASBO years.

The bastard offspring of Village of The Damned and daddy to every kiddie based horror flick since (and no doubt where Stephen King ripped Children of The Corn off from), from it's opening montage of true life atrocities committed against children to it's downbeat ending Who Can Kill a Child? is as disturbing a movie today as it was at the time of release.

Thinking about it in these child safety obsessed modern times tho' it probably comes across as even more so.

Which makes the fact that a remake not only got green-lit but actually made even more disturbing.

But it's not just  the subject matter - or the haircuts - that makes this film an unforgettable and fairly harrowing experience.


No it's more to do with the leisurely pace at which Narciso Ibanez Serrador unfolds his story, unafraid as he is to build the tension slowly as he works quietly toward the movie's climax with an ever growing sense of dread. 

Filmed completely in broad daylight, Pedro Almodóvar's cinematographer of choice, Jose Luis Alcaine adds a sense of growing isolation whilst avant-garde composer Waldo de los Ríos' soundtrack of suitably soothing lullaby style songs gives a spooky Twilight Zone vibe to the proceedings.

But that's not all it has in it's favour, the small (in number as well as height) cast are unusually good for Spanish genre flicks of the time (casting English speaking ex-Doctor Who actors probably helped) and the Kiddie cast admirably pull of the task of going from sweet to shit scary in the bat of an eyelid.

A wee bit like my own podlings then.

Finally getting the love and care it deserves after years of being butchered, redubbed, retitled and generally pissed about,  Serrador's masterpiece can now proudly take it's place as the missing link between the horrific excesses of Jorge Grau's Manchester Morgue and the Paul Naschy's Werewolf series.


Well we all know how much I like my little boxes, plus it makes it easier to put on your shelves this way.

stop the press....

RIP the one true Lois Lane, Margot Kidder.

where's captive kurt?

Between jobs at the moment so spending most of my days wandering around the house nude whilst re-organising my shelves.

Which is where I came across this beauty.

Allegedly it's the most terrifying documentary ever made.

Even the thought of reviewing it is scaring the shit out of me.

Luckily Cass-man is having a boys day with me (the laydees are out watching Rampage) so we can be manly men together and hug up if it gets too scary.

Tho' he'll probably be unfazed I mean he is nearly 12.

Alien Abduction: Incident in Lake County (1998).
Dir: Dean Alioto.
Cast: Benz Antoine, Kristian Ayre, Gillian Barber, Michael Buie, Emmanuelle Chriqui, Marya Delver, Katlyn Ducharme, Ingrid Kavelaars, Aaron Pearl and Bart Anderson.

 "I AM NOT STONED!"

It's Thanksgiving night and the plaid clad McPherson clan have gathered (as always) at booze sodden Mum McPherson's (Barber, the factory receptionist from Cats And Dogs!) house for the traditional turkey dinner, raised emotions and sarky comments.

Since the death of Dad McPherson, Eldest son Kurt (professional background artiste Pearl) has done his best to hold the family together with a unique mix of shouting, sweating and standing with his hands on his hips and his legs spread wide in a pose usually reserved for bastard Tories whilst his manly shouldered wife Linda (Kavelaars, younger sister of former Ms. Canada wannabe Annette) and their Polly Pocket styled six year old daughter Rosie (Ducharme) gaze at him from afar.

Less an unearthly child more an ungodly one.

But today tensions are higher than normal, thanks in part to Lego haired, eldest daughter Melanie (Sons of Anarchy's Delver) bringing a leather clad black man named Matthew (Antoine from 19-2: The Series...yup me neither) as her dinner date.

Middle son Brian (Buie from, um stuff), doing his best to keep out of the way has taken to shagging his Rosie Perez-lite girlfriend Renee (Chriqui, the voice of Cheetara from Thundercats) in the bathroom whilst youngest son Tommy (Ayre, look him up at IMDB if you're really that bothered) wanders around aimlessly shooting stuff with his video camera.

Badly.

Who needs Blu-Ray?

Cue what seems like days of mum sneaking swigs of booze and commenting on the turkey whilst Tommy annoys everyone with his camera and Kurt sits and seethes like a harsh faced powder keg of pent up sexual frustration aimed, it seems at Matthew.

Luckily for us as soon as the family sits down to eat, there's a flash of blue light and the fuses blow.

But not as much as this family obviously.

Manly Kurt and baw-faced Brian head out to check the fuse box in the garage, with Tommy and his camera in tow only to find the entire box melted beyond repair and smelling like a wet dog.

Which is exactly like your mum.

Kurt has little time to get angry tho' as suddenly a nearby telegraph pole explodes in the distance with all the ferocity of a damp Catherine Wheel on Bonfire Night.

Running to the scene of the sparks our all American boys are slightly disturbed to find a group of paper-mache headed aliens dissecting a cow with a laser pointer.

Scary.

"We're off to Button Moon!"

Tommy tries to not only keep calm but also keep the camera in focus as his brothers spout clichéd stuff like "Holy cow! it's a gen-you-ine Martian!" and the like whilst trying not to shite themselves but all this macho bravado vanishes when the threesome run away screaming after an alien has waved at them.

Returning to the house to find the phones dead, the women folk huddled together (possibly covering in fear from the sex-offender-like charm of Matthew) and mum on her fourth bottle of gin, Kurt explains that there are aliens outside and that they should leave right now but mum has cooked a nice turkey dinner and is adamant that everyone should stay and eat it first.

Everyone bar Kurt agrees.

Feeling his macho prowess threatened Kurt regains control of the situation by heading to the den and grabbing loads of guns while Brian tries to convince everyone that he's not stoned or drunk.

Unlike mum who's off her fucking saggy tits by this point.

Tommy continues filming (obviously) as the womenfolk look on disapprovingly.

Is your hair the only thing you let down?

Suddenly the house explodes under an ultra high-pitched sonic bombardment as the place is over-run by large blue CGI hedgehogs.

Oh sorry I meant a sound attack (as in noise not Scousers) giving the cast ample opportunity to do some quality ear acting, except for Rosie, who seems strangely unaffected by the whole ordeal.

Either that or she's a really shite actress as well as looking like a troll.

The spooky screeching finally subsides long enough for the family to hear what sounds like a group of hyper-active kids jumping about on the roof, giving Kurt an excuse to tape a torch to the barrel of his gun and head outside to fetch his car.

Oh and shoot some shit.

He orders everyone to grab their coats and await his signal to leave, which gives mum ample opportunity to complain that the foods going cold whilst topping up her glass.

Tommy follows Kurt outside to find nothing but the acrid stench of warm piss and stale semen.

It seems that poor Tommy wet himself himself when he first saw the aliens.

But not when he first read the script obviously.

Kurt assures his lil bro' that everybody gets scared at some point.

Except Kurt who is in a constant state of sexual arousal by the look of things, I mean when he reaches the car and pops the bonnet (as our American cousins say) only to find the engine a steaming gooey mess I swear you can see a tiny spurt of love yoghurt erupt from his 501's.

Or it might have been the tracking.

Disappointed they head back to the house to find everyone gathered in the living room shaking, except mum who's busying herself opening another bottle of wine whilst still babbling on about the turkey.

Things are not looking good.

Watch out watch out John Leslie's about.

Suddenly Kurt hears the pitter patter of tiny feet on the roof of the house and, in a desperate attempt to shoot something (anything) heads back outside to fire his load into the air.

Tommy following him outside like some errant love puppy trains his camera up onto the roof and catches a fleeting glimpse of a pale skinned, jump-suited dwarf clambering into an upstairs window.

Yikes.

This is all Kurt needs and our hero excitedly climbs the stairs to check out the bedrooms for any sign of alien interference whilst Tommy quickly changes his underwear.

Unknowingly in the presence of an alien.

"If I lie on this hand long enough it feels like my mums!"

 

Screaming in terror as a bony digit begins to enter his anus, Kurt bursts in just in time to trap the interplanetary pervert in a cupboard before shooting it in the face.

The family regroups in the dining room much to mums joy but rather than start eating, everyone comes down with a massive dose of sinister nosebleeds which leads to a violent affray over who gets the most toilet roll to shove up their nostrils.

All this snot-based excitement is enough to keep the family occupied until poor Renee is zapped by a red light before falling (unconvincingly) into a coma.

Renee: blood encrusted nostril not shown.

Relieved that it's not his bitch that's been blasted, Kurt persuades blubbering Brian to make a run for the highway in order to get help or pizza, leaving Tommy in charge of the women and Renee under a blanket.

The two brothers leave never to be seen again.

After a bit of scary static and according to the camcorder's clock, an hour has passed since the boys left but to the remaining family (and Matthew) it seems that only a few minutes have elapsed.

Mum is devastated when the full horror of the situation dawns on her and she realises that she's lost valuable drinking time whilst Linda and Matthew have have become so confused by events that they start kissing each other.

With tongues and everything.

Melanie is not amused but once Matthew explains (whilst wiping his throbbing black member on Linda's blouse) that the aliens made him do it she calms down immediately, even offering to help dry the sofa cushions.

Note to readers, if your wife/husband/partner ever catch you in this situation I'd like to point out that this excuse doesn't always work.

"The bin men made me do it mum!"

Suddenly (it's always suddenly in this house, have you noticed?) gunshots ring out in the distance, Melanie (now tooled up like a council estate Buffy the Vampire Slayer) and a fresh smelling Tommy quickly head outside but find absolutely sod all whilst back in the house the power begins to fluctuate (again), the noise of someone dragging their nails down a blackboard fills the air and every household appliance goes crazy causing everyone to run about screaming only to stop when Renee, by this point lying in a heap with loads of white sticky stuff running out her mouth (Matthew was that you?) dies.

And on that bombshell the house plunges back into darkness.

Without warning the house begins to get hotter and hotter even mum is feeling the heat as she slowly unbuttons her silky smooth shirt, the beads of sweat collecting on her tanned breasts.

But before we get to see anything exciting everyone begins to complain about a nasty burning sensation on the back of their necks.

Except Matthew obviously who's more concerned with the itchy, burning sensation down the front of his pants.

Tommy tugs on Linda's collar revealing a triangular burn mark, checking the family it appears that everyone else has one too.

All that is except little Rosie, who has spent the entire ordeal so far telling everyone to calm down whilst sneakily emptying all the shotguns and is now assuring all the adults that everything is OK and it will all be over soon.

God how I hope she's right.

Matthew, understandably freaked by all this white folk nonsense volunteers to head out to look for the brothers.

You remember, the actual brothers, not 'brother' brothers.

"Look at the dog! Look at the dog!"

Within seconds there are more gunshots outside, Tommy stumbles out to find the remains of two shotguns; one with a bent barrel and the other sliced in two.

Matthew, Kurt and Brian are nowhere to be seen.

Searching, shouting and waving his camera about like Michael J Fox in a disco, Melanie notices more weird lights in the woods and two bulbous bonced figures approaching the house.

Rushing back inside, Linda, Melanie and Tommy quickly barricade the door whilst mum helps herself to more booze and Rosie plays the piano.

Just like a normal Sunday here then.

Making the excuse that he needs a wee, Tommy heads to the downstairs toilet for a quick cry to camera before rejoining the others who, by this time tired of mum's constant talking of the bollocks have all sat down for dinner.

"Would you like some dark meat?" Mum asks Melanie in a totally non ironic way.

Begrudgingly admitting that mum's spread is actually well tasty, no-one notices when Rosie sneaks away from the table only to return minutes later with a small band of alien visitors.

The surviving family members stand as if in a trance.

The alien closes in.

The tape ends.

Madeline: The Revenge.

So, Alien Abduction: Incident in Lake County, frightening fake or complete and utter bullshit?

Well it's a hard one to call but if you ignore the cast list in the closing credits (especially those of Shari Khademi and Myles Wolf as Alien #1 and Alien #2 respectively), oh and the fact that the entire family are credited as actors, it's understandable as to why this has been reported as the greatest - and most horrifying - evidence of interstellar invasion ever.

From the terrifying non performances of the cast, thru to the nasty nylon fashions and blatant disregard for the rules of tension building, I've not been this frightened, annoyed - or aroused - by a movie since that other true life abduction classic Megan is Missing.

Megan prepares herself for some alien anal action.

Where this movie oh so slightly pips MiM in the reality stakes is in it's use of talking heads interviews.

By that I mean from paranormal/UFOlogy experts not the pop group.

Yup whenever the film looks like it might be building to a scary or tension filled scene, the screen cuts to black and some homeless guy, the directors dad or whoever was available appears to wax lyrical for five minutes on how the footage is definitely real or in the case of some skinhead bloke with a mockney accent how it mirrors his abduction completely.

Tho' it does lose points by not showing Melanie pinned down and roughly arse-raped by the aliens in glorious close-up for ten minutes.

Megan director Michael Goi gets to keep that award unlike Alien Abduction helmer Alioto, who had to contend with various religious groups accusing him of blasphemy after broadcast.

And who says Americans don't have a sense of humour?

An important and shocking film that needs to be seen.

Then when you've finished pissing yourself with laughter and eventually come to terms with what you've witnessed passed onto your nearest and dearest like some yeast based infection.

It's what Kurt and co. would have wanted.