Thursday, October 29, 2020

burqa and hair (raising).

Day 29 of 31 days of horror and it's a look back at a classic.

Yes, occasionally I do watch good films.

It's a pity then that no fucker ever pays attention when I rave about them.

But not this time.

You've had 13 (!) years to catch up with this so if you haven't seen it already I'm giving you till then end of the week.

Go on, buy it now.

You'll thank me in the morning.

Zibahkhana (AKA Slaughterhouse, Hell's Ground. 2007)
Dir: Omar Ali Khan.
Cast: Kunwar Ali Roshan, Rooshanie Ejaz, Rubya Chaudhry, Haider Raza, Osman Khalid Butt, Najma Malik, Sultan Billa, Salim Meraj and Rehan.




You are on the road to Hell, my children.
On the road to Hell!



Newsflash!

Pakistan's biggest dance festival is about to start and wouldn't you know it, it's gonna be taking place on a school night!

Isn't it always the way?

But if you think that's going to stop our motley band of Islamabad based teens having a wild night of music, mental dancing and muddy boots then you've got another thing coming.

Living, breathing Bratz doll Roxy (big haired bad girl Chaudhry) has it all planned, her buddies are going to sneak away in a colourful van and tell their respective parents that they're studying at each others houses.

What could possibly go wrong?

Accompanying her to the groove-some (as opposed to gruesome) fest are drugged up horror geek Vicky (Roshan), binman's son Simon (the Pakistani Daniel Radcliffe Raza) and the sweetly sexy to a point of almost being librarian-esque (as only good girls can be) Ayesha (Ejaz) alongside designated driver and token older guy OJ (Butt).

So, who's your cash on surviving to the final reel then?





Ejaz: scrumptious.


After a few coffees (and an encounter with some scarily saucy transvestite hookers) our merry band head off toward their dance-tastic destination, stopping only to visit Deewana's world famous tea shop.

What do you mean you've never heard of it?

A sign of spooky things to come occurs when Vicky is convinced that the Bruce Willis vested Deewana is actually the cult actor and star of the utterly fantastic The Living Corpse (AKA Dracula in Pakistan) Rehan, although the creepily hairy backed tea legend angrily denies this.

You see he's more interested in why such good Muslim kids aren't preparing for evening prayer.

Freaked out by all this talk of praying and curses our heroes grab some tea and buns before making their excuses and leaving.



"Spice Girls number one for Christmas? MONSTA!"


Could things get any worse?

Well after all that tea and cake poor Vicky seems to have developed a dodgy tummy and begs his buds to pull over so he can go vomit in a lake (as one would) but even before he's managed to wipe away the shame from the corners of his mouth he's attacked and bitten by a crazed, green skinned tramp.

Who also steals his stash.

Thieving undead bastard.

Simon, being the heroic type, offers to go search for the drugs (and the scary knee biting pikey) whilst Vicky sits huddled in a corner sweating and rubbing his leg in the hope of getting some female attention.

Bless.



Who's sari now?


Don't get too concerned tho' because Simon soon returns with the drugs (and in one piece) and, after a wee bit of shall we shan't we? the gang decide it's probably for the best if they just carry on toward the festival and hope one of the first aiders has a plaster and a junior aspirin for Vicky victim when they get there.

This is actually surprisingly sensible and everything would have turned out fine if OJ hadn't taken a wrong turn when hurriedly leaving Deewana's tea shop.

Wouldn't you know it the gang end up lost.

In the woods.

Surrounded by the living dead.

There's only one course of action left to our heroes and that's to sit in the van and scream like wee girls as the zombies excitedly devour the contents of an abattoir bin next to the road.

Luckily OJ remembers that they're in a van not a shed, and drives away before the zombies can attack, or at the very least scratch the paintwork.

What a guy.

After driving what seems for hours and needing something to break the monotony of Vicky's vomiting and the girls screaming, the - by this point not so - merry band pull over at a big tent in the middle of nowhere in the hope of getting directions to the festival and maybe a few bottles of Lucozade to keep them going.

Have they never seen Bio-Zombie?

Obviously not, nor the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre by the looks of things seeing as they happily offer a lift to a mad as a bag of spanners bearded type named Bill Baley (Meraj, being scarily more like Bill Moseley than Moseley himself) who, after squatting on the floor of the van and demanding water starts shouting "I will drink the blood from your veins!" before pulling a severed head out of his man-bag.

Reacting with a mix of utter pant wetting terror and a wee bit of mild embarrassment the group scream at the horrible hobo for a while before kicking him out the van and running him down like a dog.

Which is a little extreme methinks.



"Laugh now!"


Waiting till the screaming has died down Ayesha suggests that maybe, just maybe they should give the festival a miss a head home.

Roxy (who it must be said has spent about three days troweling on her make-up in preparation for the event) is adamant that the show must go on, only changing her mind when she accidentally sits on the severed head left on the seat by the late lamented Baley.

It seems obvious to me that he only left it there because it too wanted to attend the music fest but had no body to go with.

Sorry.

Like a whippet up a particularly greasy drainpipe Roxy jumps out of the van and legs it into the woods whilst everyone else starts screaming again.

The screaming continues for about ten minutes, with everyone in the van desperately trying to be considerably louder than their pals.

Unfortunately when the screaming finally stops and the merry band almost collapse thru' lack of oxygen no-one has the faintest idea where Roxy has gone.

Ayesha and Simon, being the clean living heroic types give chase.

OJ volunteers to sit in the van with a considerably greener and more zombie-like by the minute Vicky in case they need to make a quick getaway.

What a guy!



"Oooh....who fancies a wee
bit a mooth shite-in?"


Stumbling blindly thru' the woods, our dynamic duo come across a ramshackle house and, hoping to get help bang on the doors whilst, yes, screaming.

After a few minutes of banging and screaming (and reckoning that their day can't get any worse) Simon and Ayesha slowly enter the house hoping to find a nice old lady with a phone that they can use.

It comes as no surprise to us (but a bloody big shock to the two friends) when stomping out of the kitchen comes a giant, burqa-wearing beast of a bloke brandishing a huge spiked ball on a chain.

A wee bit of a chase ensues culminating with poor Simon getting spiked in the face.

And yes, before you say anything I am aware (as is Ayesha, who seems to find this the most shocking thing so far) that men don't usually wear burqa's.

But I for one wouldn't say anything to him about it.



Meow. Twice.


Meanwhile Roxy, all messy hair, smudged make-up and tearful of cheek (but still nowhere near as hot as Ayesha - which I really shouldn't dwell on seeing as Ms. Ejaz reads this blog) has been found by a sweet old lady who lives in a tent just up the road from all the carnage.

And not only that but this old dear has tea and toast!

As a minus point tho' she does have her dead hubbies corpse in a cupboard and pictures of her two sons plastered around the walls.

One of whom seems to enjoy wearing a burqa....

No, it couldn't be...

Could it?




Taller than Freddie, sexier than Jason and
far easier to dress as than either one of them.
Raise your glass for the Burqa Baby!




From the deranged mind of Islamabad Ice cream shop magnate Omar Khan comes what is quite possibly the best lo-fi horror movie of the past 20 years if not the most fun ninety minutes I've spent with a teen killing mentalist for quite some time.

The surprising thing is that, on paper Hell's Ground should be little more than a run of the mill Texas Chainsaw rip off but it's kudos to Khan and his team that it's so much more than that, being at once an incredibly funny pastiche and an honest to goodness homage to the stalk and slash genre he obviously loves so much.

And just when you think it can't get any better cult movie king Rehan turns up.

From the pre-credit sequence onwards you know you're viewing something extra special and it's this love and understanding of the genres conventions that soaks (bloodily) thru' every single frame and every performance on show, the cast are uniformly fantastic, with special mention to the classically creepy Salim Meraj.

Honestly his performance is so convincing you can actually smell the urine and stale sweat thru' the teevee - God help you if you're watching in Blu-Ray.

And I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that the elfin Rooshanie Ejaz could quite possibly have stolen Bruce Campbell's crown (and heart) as the ultimate horror hero had she not retired from movies and gone on to be a science type bigwig.

If nothing else she looks much sexier than the big chinned one when drenched in blood.

Sorry Bruce.

Frankly essential viewing and an essential costume come Halloween.

Still no word of a sequel mind, even tho' I sent the film makers a top notch script featuring Burqa Baby battling an army of ancient Jinns.

Typical.



Wednesday, October 28, 2020

bostin.

For no reason whatsoever (other than I've not been down to visit this year and I'm feeling homesick) here's a collection of jingles from Beacon Radio 303....the West Midlands equivalent of WKRP in Cincinnati only with bigger bush.

Enjoy.



fiddy pence.

Readers with long memories (and short tempers) may remember a few years ago that I tried to broaden the readership of the blog by expanding into more sensible stuff like - ahem -politics and the like, so to that end (exactly 4 years ago) I tweeted Mike Pence to ask what his favourite movie was in the hope of getting an exclusive interview or something from him pre-election night.

If you remember I did this with Nigel Farage to great effect.

Well I say great effect but actually mean that no fucker read it, so you can imagine my surprise when Pence actually replied*.

If only I'd used this information at the time I could have saved the world from 4 years of Trump and changed the course of American history as we know it.

Oh well.

Anyway seeing as it's election time (again) and because I'm running out of stuff for the 31 days of horror thing I thought I'd present his tweet in all its (totally real and in no way fake) glory alongside the review for those who hadn't seen it.





Dr. Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks (AKA Frankenstein's Castle, Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks, Monsters of Frankenstein, Terror Castle, The House of Freaks, 1974).
Dir: Robert H Oliver or Dick Randall take your pick I don't really care.
Cast: Rossano Brazzi, Loren Ewing, Edmund Purdom, Simonetta Vitelli and her playful puppies, Christiane Rucker, Eric Mann, Luciano Pigozzi, Michael Dunn and Mr. Boris Lugosi as Ook.


Terror stalks the castle when the secret of life falls into the wrong hands.



Somewhere in deepest, darkest Europe a bunch of inbred local yokel types in dirty vests and baseball hats (we call them Neds, you call them Republicans) have decided, with it being a Sunday and all, to spend the afternoon stoning a topless, manbreasted Neanderthal named Pedro (Ewing from Venus in Furs) to death.

No reason is given for this frankly loutish behavior other that they must be a wee bit bored.

Either that or the fact that his straggly beard makes him look a wee bit foreign.

Which is fair enough then.

Luckily for our hapless brute, who should come a-riding past but the one and only Count Steve Frankenstein (Brazzi from such classics as South Pacific and The Italian Job obviously getting stung by his ex wife for a new swimming pool) who has other plans for the big man.

Yup you guessed it, the 'mad' scientist reckons this towering titan would make a great starting point for his latest experiment.

An experiment into the world of urban dance beats.


Probably.

"Mary Doll! whit's fae dinnah?"


However nothing ever goes smoothly for our favourite nutty professor as while he's performing (very complicated) surgery to transform his new plaything from a big beast into a fairly passable - and typical - Glaswegian (complete with 'heid' bandage) who should turn up out of the blue but his sensible shoed and bouncy breasted daughter Mary (Vitelli, ask your granddad), her hunky fiancé Eric (Mann the director of Manhunter and The Keep, possibly) and their dirty blonde and even dirtier pillowed anthropologist 'friend', Krista (Rucker best know by teevee fans for her long running role in Kottan Ermittelt) all intent on enjoying a holiday at Mary's old man's pad.


And his expense obviously.


"Now why don't you and your
little friend get wet n' naked for a wee bit o' mooth shite-in before dinner?"


Playing the good host, Frankenstein wines and dines his guests, regaling them with funny science stories whilst secretly sending out his freakish posse (including Genz the necrophiliac ginger porn dwarf fantastically played by Dunn) to steal more corpses for his experiment to recreate the entire rosta of BBC Scotlands' early 90's comedy talent in order to battle the evil independence movement.

And by the looks of it he already appears to have Rab C Nesbitt.

"Whit?"


During one such midnight foray, the dim witted Hans (Pigozzi from Yor) forgets to clean away Genz' tiny footprints and, rather than admit his mistake, puts the blame on the little fella, causing the Count to banish him from his castle (of Freaks) until he finds out - and I quote - "What the Hell is going on with these short people!"

And all without even letting him have his supper first.

Genz, understandably annoyed by this (well, it was kippers on the menu) swears the wrath of the little people on the Count and begins to plot his revenge.

Sitting on a mushroom and seething away whilst planning more and more convoluted ways of gaining revenge our tiny pal is vaguely surprised (tho' he may just be squinting to read the cue-cards - when yet another Neanderthal, this one named Ook (Lugosi AKA The Beast in Heat himself, Sal Boris ) pops out from behind a hedge close to the European/Mexican border on the look out for some top tottie to fiddle with.

Or at the very least for a pretty mooth to shite in.

Obviously after selling her drugs and stealing her job that is.

C'mon we all know what these Neanderthals are like.

"It's awight wee Jimmy, ah
checked the beanstalk".


Anyway, whilst all this particularly un-PC stuff is going on, Krista and Mary have discovered a soothing hot spring in the caves below the castle and have decided the best thing to do would be to get naked and begin frolicking in a sexy manner at the first opportunity.

Obviously this adds nothing to the plot but it does mean you get quality dialogue like:

"This dress was designed to get out of quickly!"

and scenes like this:



and this:




Which is nice.

Tissues dispensed with it's back to the plot.

Genz sneaks back into the castle (disguised as a small doll, tiny second amender or a gnome no doubt) and frees a very angry Pedro who after sneaking a look in a mirror is devastated to find that he wasn't made to look like Wee Burnie.

To avoid confusion with our American readers I mean this guy, not this one.

Sorted?

Good, now we can continue.

Pedro then proceeds to smash the castle up and chase everyone whilst going "Gggrrraaaaahhhh" a lot.

We feel his pain.

Ook, meanwhile is slowly wandering through the dark tunnels below the castle looking for a quick shag, which is quite lucky then that he almost immediately comes across a naked, glistening (and very bouncy) Krista preparing for a soak.

Ook's leering grin, straining groin and outstretched hands say it all.

More tissues ahoy.

Just as you think that things couldn't get any worse the locals - who are still bored - have decided to organize another dads n' lads stoning and reckon that Frankenstein should be next on the list.

Wandering about the forest they soon come across poor Pedro (even tho' he looks completely different with his head bandaged and wearing a string vest) and give chase, following him into the caves where he hides behind a rock pretending to be a deplorable.

OK then a cat.

Surprisingly this ploy seems to work and the angry militia quickly head further into the caves giving Pedro the chance to make a break for freedom.

As he's about to head back to the border our brutish buddy spies poor Krista, covered in egg, sweat and semen (and on whom he has a wee bit of a schoolboy crush), being manhandled and arse whacked by the drooling Ook.

Will Pedro risk his own life to save this beautiful embodiment of liberty and chastity?

Will the mad locals ever tire of lynching random folk?

And does anyone reading really care?



Rucker: bacony passage.


From the legendary director/producer/dwarf fetishist Dick Randall (the man who brought us Weng Weng's For Y'ur Height Only, Supersonic Man and Don't Open Till Christmas amongst other classics), Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks' appears to be the bizarre lovechild of the no-budget, lo-fi drive-in movies of the mid 60's and the studio bound Euro-exploitationers of the the early 70's, lurching as it does between Hammeresque horror and bouncy boob fun.

This schizophrenic approach coupled with a general sense of unevenness and a totally threadbare plot is made even more enjoyable when the action and horror is repeatedly hijacked by scenes of Christiane Rucker's ample arse and Simonetta Vitelli's glorious breasts.


"Laugh now!"





Quite rightly most of the rude stuff is instigated by the movies true star, the pixie like perv that is Michael Dunn. Whether he's pinching a dead woman's nipples or giving Ook a quick lesson in seduction using a kidnapped farm girl as an unwilling volunteer, Dunn's portrayal of the pube bearded, tiny-handed hunchbacked mini-molester is a riot of over the top twitches and snarls coupled with an overpowering sense of sexual deviancy.

It's like a pocket sized Donald Trump is scooting around in your living room wearing your dad's pants.

Plus he has that wibbly wobbly run that's so endearing.

Frankly fantastic Friday night film fodder, plus as an added incentive to trawl thru' the bargain bins is that the UK DVD release on Something Weird Video was double boxed with the Victor Buono classic The Mad Butcher (AKA Meat is Meat).

But that was about 18 years ago so good luck finding it now.

Tho' if you ask him nicely Pence may get it re-released (this time on shiny BluRay) seeing as - hopefully - he'll be out of a job soon.

If you can call having to suck the arse-nuggets from a ginger, small-handed sociopath on a daily basis whilst he roughly fondles his daughter a job.

Oh well each to their own I guess.





*Probably.

Tuesday, October 27, 2020

mum's the word.

It's day 27 of 31 days of horror and I've suddenly realized that I've not covered any babysitters in peril yet.

Actually I've not covered any babysitters in anything for years.

Tho' I've always said I'd make an exception for Nancy Loomis in Halloween.

Or just Nancy Loomis in general if I'm honest.

 
Loomis....no reason other than she's absolutely lovely.


Babysitter Wanted (2008).

Dir: Jonas Barnes and Michael Manasseri.
Cast: Sarah Thompson, Matt Dallas, Bill Moseley, Bruce Thomas, Nana Visitor, Monty Bane and Kai Caster.

Hungry!

The sensibly shoed and incredibly cute Christian college newbie Angie Albright (Thompson from teevee's Angel) is leaving home - and her God bothering mum - for the first time ever in order to study art history at the community college in the next town.

Excitedly setting off on her long car journey to freedom she's soon hit by a wave of disappointment when upon arriving at her new digs she discovers that her roommate is a short-skirted stoner, the floor is covered in a scary mix of egg, sweat and semen stains and that someone has sold her bed.

Oh and less importantly local girls have been going missing.

But at least she still has the Lord.

And a really peachy bum if I'm totally honest so it's not all bad.

She might be sleeping now but just wait till the communion starts.


After a long hard chat to Jesus, our holy heroine decides to get a job to pay for a new bed and lo and behold there just happens to be a babysitting position advertised on the college notice board.

What are the chances eh?

Unfortunately tho' Angie can't get to excited seeing as it appears that she's being stalked around campus by a tall woolly hatted man in scruffy work boots with an uncanny (and frankly unnerving) ability to make art history slide show pictures appear on his face at random.

Which if nothing else should secure him a spot on the Britain's Got Talent finals.

Or at the very least in your mums bed.

Tho' just being male with a pulse should do that.

At least that's what your Uncle Ted said.

Laugh now!

Luckily she's got a new friend to chat to about it, the cool Catholic hunk Rick (Kyle XY star and former 80's super soap Dallas) whom she keeps bumping into around campus.

When he's not skulking around confessional boxes that is.

After a quick phone call and a couple of Hail Mary's Angie drives out to meet the couple in need of a sitter; the farm-working and plaid loving Stanton's (Birds of Prey's Batman himself Thomas and Dead Zone regular, one-time Ms. USA and former Bond Dalton) along with their girlie haired cowboy obsessed son, the monosyllabic Sam (pretty lipped Caster best known for Children of the Corn: Genesis, tho' that isn't really his fault).

Chatting to Mrs Stanton whilst enjoying a glass of homemade lemonade, Angie weighs up the pros and cons of the job (Pros: it pays well, cons: Sam's a freak and the house is in the middle of nowhere) before deciding to take it.

I mean what's the worse thing that could happen?

"You're my favourite Deputy....of love!"

On returning to her room Angie's mood is dampened a little when she finds someone has helpfully stuck pictures of the missing local girls to her dorm door leaving her no choice but to whine at Rick (who just happened to be passing) for a bit before heading to see the local sheriff (genre god Moseley in a scene stealing cameo) who assures her that everything is fine.

But if by some strange quirk of fate a mad mentalist does try to kill her he suggests that she should call him.

Which is nice.

The Amanda Knox bikestand was sure to be a big hit this coming Christmas.


The babysitting day soon comes around and wouldn't you know it Angie's car has broken down but never fear as Jack of all trades Rick is here to save the day, not only offering to spend his Saturday night fiddling with her tubes and pumping her engine but also promising to take her over to the Stanton's house too.

Obviously this does mean that if there is someone stalking our gospel lovin' gal and he does strike tonight that she's stuck in the middle of nowhere alone.

Well alone apart from sinister Sam who just happens to be the freakiest movie child this side of Tommy in Manhattan Baby.

I mean not content with wandering silently round the house like some mini Woody sex doll the little sod insists on eating only raw meat.

Without a fork.

How common.

"Hey kids! Let's round up a posse and have ourselves a spit roast!"


Everything is going smoothly (well for about 10 minutes, the movie's not that long, it only feels it) until Angie begins to hear noises from upstairs and banging at the front door.

Luckily the suspense is soon broken by Sam who wakes up mumbling "I'm hungry" before helping himself to some of the aforementioned meaty bits left in a bowl by the door before promptly running away leaving an oh so slightly panicking Angie torn between trying to find him, cleaning up the blood from the kitchen floor and avoiding the big bald fucker with the knife who's suddenly appeared from nowhere and is currently skulking about the porch.

Kids eh?

So who is the mysterious stalker?

Will Rick fix Angie's car?

And what has Sam been asked to "keep under his hat?"



From the former personal assistant to Neal H. Moritz on such hits as Fast & The Furious, SWAT and 2 Fast 2 Furious via a breakthru performance as the scary Irish Henchman in Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle, writer/director Jonas Barnes and fresh-faced actor turned director Michael Manasseri comes this charming if lightweight addition to the babysitter botherer genre.

And frankly it's not too shady at all.

Suffering somewhat from being released around the same time as Ti West's modern day classic The House of The Devil, Babysitter Wanted, after a fairly serious pre-credit murder plays out the rest of the plot with a slightly more tongue in cheek feel, more Tales of The Unexpected than Hammer House of Horror with it's heady mix of horror clichés and instantly recognizable ciphers, all lovingly crafted into an obvious homage to a genre the pair obviously love.

Either that or I'm getting to a point where I've watched so much shite this month that as soon as something non offensive and halfway decent comes along I'm that relieved that I try to marry it.

Only time, and my analyst truly knows the answer to that.

How I met your mother.

Yes I know bits of it made no sense and it's about 20 minutes too long but it's heart was in the right place.

Plus it boasts a really good cast, led by the yummily librarian-like Sarah Thompson; all big eyes and tight sweaters whilst both Bruce Thomas and Kristen Dalton are equally as lovable as the friendly farm folk in need of a sitter for scary Sam.

Thompson: luscious librarian love.



Which brings me to Kai Caster, who with the face of an angel, the lips of a Parisian whore and the haircut of '80's horror legend Giovanni Frezza was always destined to go far.

Tho' he'd have probably gone even further than American Horror Story, The Baxters and A Girl Named Jo if his folks had kept their food bins at the bottom of the yard locked.

It's inoffensive, it's harmless and it features Bill Moseley in a rare 'nice guy' role and a bowl haired wee boy chewing lumps of flesh like his life depended on it.

You could do worse.

Monday, October 26, 2020

eurotrash.

 For your listening pleasure - the original EuroTrash mixes from the 2010 Profondo Mondo event in all their lo-fi glory:



warts of the world.

Day 26 of the whole 31 days of the 'orrah thing and it's time for a good old cuppa Joe....

Porno Holocaust (AKA Insel der Zombies, Orgasmo Nero II 1981)
Dir: Joe D'amato.
Cast: George Eastman, Mark Shannon, Dirce Funari, Annj Goren and Lucia Ramirez.



Crayola Holocaust more like.






Warty scrotumed sea fairing sex god Captain Darren O'Day (the manly Mark Shannon) has been hired by the Dominican government to ferry a team of scientists to a remote tropical island that once served as a nuclear test site in the 1950's.

It seems that in the intervening years strange stories have surfaced regarding bizarre mutations that now live on the island and the aforementioned scientific team - led by Dr. Lemoine Snickett (mustachioed and man breasted D'Amato regular Eastman) the physicist behind the original tests - has been sent to investigate.

As is the way in porn/horror hybrids, Lemoine's team consists of three fairly sexy (in a kinda kebab shop queue way), late 70's breasted nympho's and a dispensable old bloke with bad hair called Professor Keller

And before you ask I've absolutely no idea who plays him as he's not listed on the credits.

Yup his performance is that good.

But enough of the old men what about the babes you mentioned I hear you cry.

Well there's the granite faced Doctor Annie Darmon (former Egyptian immortal Ramirez) who scarily fancies the captain, the button nosed and boy-haired lesbian Countess Dorcin de Saint Jacques (Goren, best known - by me anyway - for her stand out performance as Cristina the maid in Antonio D'Agostino's Eva Man) and finally Doctor Simone Keller (Funari best known for getting finger diddled by Laura Gemser in Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals), Professor Keller's horse-like wife and plaything of the Countess.

Something for everyone I'm sure you'll agree.

What was this film called again?



Before setting off to the island tho' there's just enough time for some nasty shagging.

Annie and O'Day head off into the countryside for some lumpy loving whilst the Countess pays a pair of local inbreds - and I really do mean local, D'Amato allegedly payed two men he met in the street $25 to have sex with Goren on film - for an impromptu biology lesson.

This turns out to be the films most disturbing scene as the tombstone toothed twosomes attempts to stay aroused are thwarted by the omnipresent camera crew as Goren stares dead-eyed into the middle distance obviously annoyed that her career has come to tossing off strangers in back alleys.

At this point I suggest a cold shower before continuing.

And it's probably best to ring your mum seeing as you now realize what she had to go thru' to be able to afford all the Christmas presents you got as a kid.

Just saying.

"Touch my warty scrotum....yesch!"




After all this nasty shagging everyone decides that it'd be a good idea to get to the island and start work (oh and start the films plot running good and proper) but all hope of this is dashed when, once again the kinky Countess and saucy Simone decide it'd be more interesting to indulge 'the sex' rather than indulge in any scientific research.

Interesting to them perhaps but by this point not to the viewer ho by now is almost certainly suffering from post - coital - traumatic stress disorder.

Or at the very least an aversion to undercooked sausage.

Meanwhile the Captain and Annie - not wanting to be left out - also rush off into the trees in order to find a secluded spot for a wee game of hide the warty wand, giving us a change to gaze in awe at Shannon's fantastically scary cum face in glorious wide screen.


"Dad! Mom and Uncle Peter are playing Twister again!"



Realizing that most viewers will have never seen a real woman and most likely be hunched over their TeeVee's violently manipulating their members, the thoughtful Simone - after her luscious lesbo licking session - returns to the boat and in an act of solidarity with the audience offers her hubbie a swift hand shandy.

Well would you say no?

Probably not but I would insist she wear gloves.

After a few minutes in the company of mother fist and her five beautiful daughters and being a cleanliness obsessed kinda guy (see? it's not just me), Professor Keller wanders off to give hims unusually red and slightly swollen helmet a good scrub at the waters edge.

Tho' to be honest if I were him I'd be using bleach.

And then I'd pour it into my eyes just in case there's a chance of Mark Shannon thrusting his crusty cock at the screen again.

Luckily for my sight - and sanity - just when you've given up hope of anything truly horrifying happening a freakily deformed, rag wrapped tramp (sorry...zombie) arrives and murders the professor.

Finally someone died!


"I'm not a real welder!"



Hearing a muffled cry in the distance, a concerned Simone pops out of her tent - and her nightie - in order to look for her husband, totally  failing to notice that the terrifying tramp is slowly advancing toward her.

Forcing the terrified (well, I say terrified but to be honest by this point she just looks bored or stoned) Simone to her knees the tramp begins to choke her to death with his comedy rubber zombie cock.

Which you have to admit is a fairly unique way to go in a zombie movie.


"Zombie cock in mah mooth!"...Look if they can't make a fucking effort why should I?



Realizing that no-one has seen or heard anything from Keller or Simone for a couple of hours, Captain Cock-Rot, Lemoine (relax girls, Eastman stays fully clothed) and the Countess (who at this point looks like she's lost the will to live) decide to mount a search party (not literally but with this movie it wouldn't surprise me).

No sooner have they left the relative safety of base camp (it's a fairly short movie, it just seems to last forever) that our merry band come across (again, not literally) not only poor Keller face down in a pool with his penis out but also a naked and spunk encrusted (not to mention very dead) Simone perched against a tree.

Our heroic Captain comes to the conclusion that there must be another person on the island with them....either that or a pissed off lobster with a hard on.



Mark Shannon impressed the rest of the cast
by allowing them to use
his largest genital wart as a stool between scenes.



Whilst all this chat is going on (and trust me, it's a blessed relief from all the ugly sex) our zombie pal has decided that the sexy shenanigans have gone on for far too long and has decided to kill off the remaining (but more importantly unattractive) cast members as quickly as possible.

That's Mr. Eastman screwed then.

When he finally catches up with Annie (who stumbles on a twig and bruises her ankle whilst trying to escape, poor lamb) he bonks her on the head, binds her hands and carries her off to his lair.

But why? you may ask, I mean it's not like he can choose to be picky about who he shags to death, seeing as he's dressed in rags with a face like a half chewed caramel, so they're must be another reason.

Plot development in a Joe D'Amato movie?

Scary or what?


Here come the Belgians!



Leaving her lying against his favourite rock, Mr. Zombie wanders off to kill an investigative reporter who just happens to have turned up on the island unannounced (D'Amato himself, yes it's that cheap) leaving Annie enough time to have a nosy around his groovy bachelor pad where she finds an old rucksack (hidden behind a pile of old copies of Razzle magazines) that will no doubt contain information about the zombie and an abundance of useless backstory.

Excitedly she empties the contents of the aforementioned sack onto the dusty cave floor.

A rucksack like the one featured in the movie.


Leafing thru' the pile of tatty woman's clothes and various baby items Annie discovers a battered old diary with 'this book belongs to Antoine Demadura - do not read' scrawled on the inside cover.
Being a typical woman tho' Annie settles down ready to get all the gossip.



 Eastman: Sweaty manbreasts.


Meanwhile back at the beach, Captain O'Day is slightly upset by the fact that not only has his entire crew been murdered and his squeeze gone missing but his wee boat has vanished too.

Stomping about manfully and splitting coconuts with his buttocks he has no alternative but to have sex with the Countess to cheer himself up.

Annie on the other hand hasn't had sex for at least twenty minutes as she's far too busy reading how poor local farmer Demadura, his wife and ickle baby had been accidentally left on the island prior to the nuclear tests.

The death of his wife and child (coupled with the radiation obviously) mutated and regressed the poor fella to a point where only his most basic animal desires survived.

Which is a wee bit like your dad after a few beers if you're honest.

Luckily Annie has been spared the fate of her colleagues tho' because in a strange quirk of fate only found in movies such as this, she bares an uncanny resemblance to Demadura's dead wife.

As if wishing to push this point even further (obviously for those members of the audience who find the lead actress looking at a photo of herself in a different outfit whilst exclaiming "Oooh...I look like his dead wife!" too difficult to understand) Demandura turns up with his scabby head cleaned, the tufts of hair in his ears combed and clutching a bunch of flowers for Annie.

Awwww....what a sweetie!

Gently kissing his new love goodbye (well more like dribbles on her if I'm honest) he leaves the cave to look for the Countess.

Is he going to invite her back to the cave too maybe to explain that the entire killing spree was a misunderstanding?

No, when he finds her Demadura knocks her unconscious and proceeds to shag her to death over a big bit of driftwood.

Oh well. It was nice whilst it lasted.

The binmen strike again....



The Captain, by now the only survivor and obviously gagging for 'the sex', reckons it's about time he went to search for Annie.

Within a matter of minutes he's found Demadura's cave, untied her hands and dragged her off to the reporters boat for a quick getaway and a good grope.

Just think of the paycheck hen...."




Just as our heroes approach the shoreline and a chance of freedom, Demadura pops out of the undergrowth and makes a move toward Annie but O'Day shoots him with his handy speargun, only to see our zombie sex pest pluck the projectile from his body and move menacingly towards the captain, his cock swaying in the sea breeze.

Just as he lunges in for the kill Annie (remembering that she's still in the movie) calls out "No, Demadura! No!" whilst looking on in an uninterested manner causing his arm to fall off.

No, really.

Howling with pain (or trapped wind) as the memories of his previous life come flooding back to him Demadura collapses onto the golden sands and dies leaving Annie and the Captain run hand in hand to the boat, cast off from shore and no doubt have a big shag to celebrate.





Joe D'Amato's companion piece to his sexy horror opus, Erotic Nights of the Living Dead, is more sex film than shocker, discarding the haunting voodoo menace of that movie for an atomic monster with a huge cock and a thing for colourful head scarves.

With it's uniformly ugly cast and brightly lit, almost clinical scenes of penetration and overgrown 70's bush the true horror comes not from the idea of being shagged to death by a large blue mutant but from the look on the cast members faces as the are forced to twist their faces and bodies into more and more frighteningly contorted shapes as they attempt an array of unique and horrifically fake 'cum faces' just to earn a dollar.

Or in Annj Goren's case enough to buy a bottle of extra strong mouthwash in order to rise away the taste of tramp from earlier.

It's enough to put you off sex (especially with zombies) for life and after almost two hours of Mark Shannon's aforementioned genital warts I'd challenge you to ever eat a bramble again.

Those minor niggles aside it does feature the only full screen death by forced zombie blow job I can think of on film so that must count for something I guess.

Like shagging a bin or lunching out on a hobo (or is that the other way round?) Porno Holocaust is something you must experience at least once before you die.

Because to be honest I really shouldn't have to suffer this alone.

Sunday, October 25, 2020

hammer time.

Day 25 of 31 days of horror.


Don't you people have homes to go to?

Todays choice is cheap, cheerful and shorter than your dad due to the fact that I have things to do later.

Enjoy.

Hammerhead Shark Frenzy (AKA Shark Man, Hammerhead, 2005).
Dir: Michael Oblowitz.
Cast: William Forsythe, Hunter Tylo, Sir Jeffrey of Combs, Elise Muller, Arthur Roberts, G.R. Johnson, Mariya Ignatova and Anton Argirov.

Amelia Lockhart: You're going to impregnate me?

Dr. Preston King: No....

[pointing to the mutant shark man in the tank]

Dr. Preston King: .....he is.




Somewhere on a deserted island that it must be said looks a wee bit like a garden centre forecourt somewhere in Bulgaria where life - and shooting permits - are cheap, mad as a lorry scientist Dr. Preston King (genre king Combs) is desperately trying to find a cure for his son Paul's terminal cancer.

Which is fairly cheery I'm sure you'll agree.

As is the way with science-types in this kinda film King decides the best course of action is to use stem cells taken from Hammerhead sharks and merge them with those of his dying son.

Sounds legit.

Unexpectedly shark DNA can, in fact completely cure all known cancer (who knew?) but the downside is that it causes humans to mutate into hideous half man, half shark monsters.

Thank fuck Jenny McCarthy never saw his research papers, it'd give her something else to blame for Autism.



Jenny! What are you doing hen? Don't you know that frolicking around in a warm bath is a major cause of Autism? And rickets.




Feeling that someone should really check up on Dr. Kings wacky experiments - plus realizing that a film consisting of 90 minutes of Combs injecting stuff into a teenagers pert buttocks probably wouldn't appeal to a horror crowd -  a group of his former colleagues, led by eminent fish expert Dr. Tom Reed (William ' the kids school fees are how much?' Forsythe) and including Paul's ex Amelia (The Bold and the Beautiful's Tylo) and for some reason a vacuous blonde bimbette in a flouncy dress and pink jelly shoes (Muller, star of the equally fin-tastic Raging Sharks reviewed elsewhere on this blog, I'd put up a link but think it'd be more exciting for you to try and find it yourself) named Jane decide to make a surprise visit to his island lair for chat, tea and cakes.

Yum.

Upon arrival they are horrified (I say horrified but it's more like mild indifference) to discover not only the mutant hammerhead shark man but a dingy lab stuffed full of half-naked, oily women strapped to tables and shelf upon shelf of pickled shark hybrid fetuses.

Which is nice.

Deciding to give King the benefit of the doubt (but not getting him to remove his coat indoors so he'll get the benefit of the warmth) our merry band ask the scatty scientist to explain what's going on.

Adjusting his spectacles King announces that he really wants a grandson (makes sense) and it appears that he'll stop at nothing to finally hear the pitter-patter of tiny fins around his laboratory.

Trouble is that shark-mans foreplay technique appears to consist of biting chunks out of his dates.

Artificial insemination wont work either as shark-man can't really reach his own penis with his stumpy claw arms and his dad (understandably) will only do so much for him.

But now that Paul's lost love Amelia has turned up King decides on another course of action that involves drowning the rest of the party in his handy water tank before re-introducing his son to Amelia for a candle lit meal, followed by some wine and - hopefully - culminating in a wee bit of slap and tickle.

With maybe an optional bit of biting.

Sounds like a pretty average date growing up in the midlands if I'm honest.

"Hello French Polishers? You may just be able to save my life....tho' not my career!"

 

Taking a moment to think it over our motley crew instead decide to make a break for it, escaping down a handy overflow pipe and into the dense jungle - well, the local park - surrounding the complex.

Unfortunately they've failed to take into account that the sneaky scientist has his own private army on standby for just such a situation.

But that's not the only problem our heroes have to face for it appears that Paul is out for a stroll (paddle?) and is hungry for blood.

And maybe, just maybe a wee bit of fish on femme action.

Dirty boy.

One by one, the cast of has beens, wannabes and ne'er do wells are slaughtered by sharky; first to go is King's assistant Julie (Bulgaria's Got Talent host Ignatova - no really) as he/it messily eats her whole.*

But Paul is still hungry, violently lunching out on a fat lab assistant before scoffing Jane.


Which frankly is a mercy killing.

Leaf me alone.....Elise Muller prepares for a fucking good rooting.


After another couple of chases, near misses and vicious attacks, the Doc persuades sharky to return to his paddling pool for a special treat.

It appears that he's managed to trap the ex in a shed.

Which if nothing else would make a great title for a new Channel 4 show.

Bulgaria may have talent but it also appears to have a distinct lack of chairs. And underpants.


Stripped to her - admittedly very nice - undies and covered in baby oil, Amelia can only watch in horror as King lights some candles, pops on a Barry White CD and straps her to a table in readiness for some saucy shark sex.

Laugh now!

Will William Forsythe arrive armed to the teeth to take out the randy fish before it has chance to show poor Miss Lockhart his famous French flipper trick?

Will the cameras catch Combs silently weeping at the realization of what he has to do to pay the mortgage?

Will we ever find out why every single one of the female cast appears to have visited the same plastic surgeon and why they all decided that 'melted market Barbie' was a good look?

Or will sharky triumph?

I drew this.



Quite possibly the best mutant hammerhead shark movie to feature Jeffrey Combs, Hammerhead: Shark Frenzy is a laugh a minute, flirty gore fest of the highest order, teasing it's viewers with promises of rubber monster mayhem, needless nudity, buckets of blood and the exciting prospect of girl on shark action.

Obviously it doesn't really deliver (especially not on the girl on guppy gyrating) but it did inspire me to do some quick sketches afterwards that I'm happy to share.

Sorry, I have my woman's period.

Plus somebody must have been impressed otherwise how do you explain director Michael Oblowitz's stratospheric rise to fame, I mean why else was he picked to direct 2008's most important movie, the fantastic Romantic Resorts, a beautiful documentary focusing on America's five most romantic destinations for lovers, weddings, honeymoons and anniversaries?

And don't forget he also gave us - whether we wanted it or not - the Billy Zane/Rumor Willis shocker The Ganzfeld Haunting, something of which we should be eternally grateful.

If only for giving us the sight of Taylor Cole drunkenly snogging Rumor Willis on a comfy sofa.

Can you smell petrol?

Talking of which, if you ever find yourself drunk on a sofa - alongside either Willis or Cole -  you could do much worse than watch this.

Jeffrey Combs is, as always infinitely watchable and the shark-man costume is a rubbery (thank you) delight to behold - being far more realistic than the silicon and plastic form of Hunter Tylo if I'm honest, add to the mix a veritable art store shelf of paper thin non actors (with the exception of William - my alimony payments have hiked - Forsythe) and a bevvy of oiled ladies and you have the perfect Friday night film.

Especially if you're a tragic and lonely single guy in his 30's and your mom and dad have gone away for the weekend.

Which is probably most of the folk reading this.

Yes indeed I know deep down that it's utter shit, but it's top quality shit and that's all that matters.

Tomorrow.....something halfway decent.

I promise. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*No he didn't spit that bit out.