rock the dagmar.

Spent the Christmas holidays eating too much, drinking too much and watching way too many films in the hope of working thru' the huge slush pile in the corner.

The Devil's Female (AKA Beyond the Darkness, Magdalena: The Devil Inside the Female. 1974) 

Dir: Walter Boos.

Cast: Dagmar Hedrich, Werner Bruhns, Michael Hinz, Peter Martin Urtel, Rudolf Schündler, Karl Walter Diess, Günter Clemens, Elisabeth Volkmann, Eva Kinsky, Petra Peters, Ursula Reit, Helena Rosenkranz, Toni Treutler and Anton Feichtner.

"Is she possessed by the Devil or by sex? Or is it an obsessive compulsion to make lascivious gestures and bestial motions?"

It's Friday night in hip 'n' happening downtown Bavarian night and local lady of the night - and part-time Rocky Horror cosplayer - Brenda (Guildenstern's best mate Rosenkranz best known around here for her top turns in the porn as education hits Schulmädchen-Report 7. Teil - Doch das Herz muß dabei sein and Vergiss beim Sex die Liebe nicht - Der neue Schulmädchenreport 13) is heading home after an evening of cheap booze and clumsy reach arounds.

Probably.

After knocking back a fat bloke in a pork-pie hat who offers he £5 for a wee cuddle she's surprised to find an old man, Joseph Winter, crucified on her front gate (and wearing nowt but a huge nappy) as she's struggling to find her keys.

Which is nice.

My mum's taking the divorce well...

Enter - roughly and from behind - the second best cinema cop duo (behind Spitz and Moran obviously) Kommissar Bob Snatch and his trusty assistant Inspektor Jack Flatley (TeeVee stalwart and what happens when you buy Robert Shaw off Wish Diess,better known for his portrayal of Jack Harris the classic Kleine Bank mit schlechten Noten and Clemens from Alle meine Töchter - you're welcome) who discover - after a quick autopsy, the films quite short - that the victim was actually a fairly well known Satanist who's been offed by some other Satanists for, um, reasons.

More importantly to the plot tho' is the fact that he was/is the legal guardian of his granddaughter, the sweet and innocent Magdalena (Hamster cheeked Hedrich from the Brazilian based love story Férias No Sul and fuck all else - unless you count those films your uncle made when he went to visit 'friends' in Germany obviously) who lost both her parents in a terrible accident when she was 5 years old.

Loved by her classmates at the exclusive boarding school she attends - and lusted after by the local hunk in the fashion boutique where she has a Saturday job, Magdalena is a perfect example of a happy - if a wee bit of a mature looking - teenager.

Albeit one that wears smashing blouses.

But all that changes when during the schools Ash Wednesday Disco (no, really) organized by the schools head, the frighteningly eyebrow-less Madame Stolz (Volkmann, best known for  the German absurd comedy series Klimbimand and as the voice of Marge Simpson in the German dub of The Simpsons) and her mousy yet strangely attractive assistant Miss Preis (Kinsky best known for Testament and Ruf der Wälder - no me neither), Magdalena suddenly falls to the ground soaked in sweat and foaming from the mouth whilst the sound of a single buzzing fly echoes annoyingly on the soundtrack as the school's token lesbian couple look on longingly licking their luscious lips.

Due to this being a cut - well totally butchered - version of the film this sexy subplot will never been seen again. 

Which is a pity if I'm honest.

Lesbe friends....homo we won't!

As suddenly as the convulsions/sexy tics started they completely subside leaving Magdalena wondering why she lying on the floor covered in sweat with her nipples protruding thru' her shirt whilst Madame Stolz and Miss Preis consider the fact that getting a bunch of teenagers drunk was maybe a wee bit of a bad idea.

And with that they pack Magdalena off to bed for the night.

It isn't too long tho' before the entire school is awakened by an hysterical, sweat soaked (and underpants-less) Magdalena screaming at the floors whilst trying to kill Madame Stolz pet pooch Enoch before attempting to stab Ms Preis with a butter knifeand finally collapsing (again) in an arse revealing heap on the floor leaving Stolz no alternative but to call her friend Dr. Berger (Actual actor-type Urtel best known for Bürgerkrieg in Russland - as in a TV movie version not the actual Russian Revolution, a German version of Othello and To Commit a Murder).

Berger isn't too concerned tho' and explains that "Sweaty arse revealing psychotic episodes can happen to almost anyone!" before giving her a sedative and heading back home to enjoy a shifty wank whilst dreaming of the poor girls glistening bum crack.

The next morning an oblivious Magdalena has no recollection of her freaky frolics the previous evening so is fairly surprised when Madame Stolz explains what has happened.

Oh and finally tells her the news about her granddad at the same time obviously.

Two birds and all that.

With Berger in tow, Magdalena prepares to leave for her granddad's funeral but at last minute she shouts "Fuck off!" to everyone and bounds over the school wall disappearing into the trees only to surface later that night when she accepts a lift from a long-haired lout who, when she falls asleep, drives off into the woods and attempts to rape her. 

This culminates in the guy getting his wanking arm broken in several places whilst Magdalena is later found by the police and taken back to school where the evil spirit within her takes the form of a black cat and starts throwing old boxes, furniture and wine bottles around in the attic whilst Magdalena writhes about naked in her sleep. 

The noise of her arse skidding across the bedroom carpet alerts Ms Preis that something is wrong so, whilst Madame Stolz tries to catch the cat vandal, she goes to comfort Magdalena only to be confronted by the Satanic schoolie bouncing on the bed shouting "I wanna fuck you dirty whores! Put it in me! Put it in me!"

Which is nice.

Luckily Dr Berger is hanging about in the lobby so he quickly gives her another sedative in the hope that this time it'll work.

Ms Preis tho' has other ideas and calls on the friendly neighbourhood priest Father Jess Conrad (Suspiria's Prof. Milius himself, Schündler adding some much needed cult film cred to the proceedings) to have a wee chat with Magdalena regarding her bizarre behaviour.

Luckily he's known her since she sang in the church choir as a little girl so is more than happy to help and to this end invites Magdalena, Ms Preis and Madame Stolz to the church for tea and biscuits.

But not of the soggy variety obviously.

Well not yet.

Things don't go quite to plan tho' as no sooner has Magdalena stepped out of the taxi when she starts accusing Conrad of being a dirty nun fucker whilst demanding that she takes communion "not in my mouth but in my pussy."

Interestingly Conrad at no point denies fucking nuns but does draw the line at the communion suggestion which goes to show that he's a man of integrity that can be trusted.

And to prove this he locks Magdalena up in his office and gets on with his churchy business giving her ample time to piss on his sofa, tear a Bible in two, same thru' a door and head over to the cemetery in order to have a chat with her dead - and buried - granddad.

As is now the norm when she finally regains her senses Magdalena has no recollection of what's just happened and with the movie lurching drunkenly toward its climax Preis, Stolz and Berger have no alternative than to turn to the modern day science of Electroencephalography (or EEG as we laymen call it).

Conrad begrudgingly agrees but only if he can join in and wave a Bible about occasionally. 

Oh and fuck a - dirty - nun.

Probably.

Nice and kneesy does it....

I reckon that I should point out that between all the swearing and sweaty snatch shots the film keeps cutting back to Kommissar Snatch and Inspektor Flatley questioning a fuzzy haired tramp caught at the scene of the crime but this subplot is a wee bit shit so I wasn't really paying that much attention.

Saying that tho' these bits are worth it just for Helena Rosenkranz's fantastic fashions.

Oh and the bit where Mrs. Baumer's hunky son Brian gives chase to the tramp.

Comedy gold. 

 

The lights are on.

With this in mind (as in the science stuff not the tramp chasing obviously) Magdalena is taken to see the famed brain boffin Professor Peter Falk (German dubbing legend and voice of Sherlock Hemlock in the German version of Sesame Street, Bruhns) who alongside his studly young assistant Dr. Stone (Hinz - Uncle Quentin himself from the 70s TeeVee version of Enid Blyton's The Famous Five) promise to find out why she's so mental and hopefully cure her so she can meet a nice man and get married.

Cue loads of footage of Magdalena with a colander on her head intercut with eye gouging scenes of Magdalena and Stone riding horses, bicycling in the countryside and playing ping pong as the pair gaze longingly at each other.

Because there's absolutely nothing unethical about a 30 something doctor lusting over a 17 year old mental school girl is there?

Luckily the director thought that all this lovey-dovey shite and keep fit stuff would be likely to induce a coma in anyone (left) watching so occasionally he has Magdalena go shopping with Falk's nurse Shirley (Peters) and a random old woman who lives in the house with them (Treutler).

Everything seems to be going well with Magdalena keeping her clothes on and not swearing at anybody but all that changes when late one night the evil spirit returns, forcing Magdalena to sneak out to the local pub, strip naked and seduce a groom to be and his best man (a great cameo from Chas and Dave, possibly) before forcing them to fight to the death for a chance to shag her before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

OK in a really choppy dissolve.

Tickler.

 

Next up it's the turn of Dr. Stone to feel the spirits wrath as Magdalena begins to rub his cock thru' his action slacks whilst promising to let him touch her thigh before shouting rape whenever he even looks at her and finally announcing that she will only have sex with him if he kills Professor Falk. 

And with that proclamation she slinks off to her room and strips naked so as to make it easier for the spirit to shag her up the bum....

 

What your mum really gets up to on Bingo Night.

Will Stone fall completely under Magdalena's spell and kill his boss?

Will the crucifixion sub-plot ever make any sense?

Will science or religion prevail?

Will the movie pull out all the stops for an amazing and terrifying Exorcist style climax or will Magdalena - after a stern talking to - just cough up a toy snake that Stone gingerly steps on?

Go on, guess.

I love it when people display their kids artwork.

What can you say about smut peddler extraordinaire Walter Boos frankly threadbare excursion into the supernatural other than it's exactly the wrong kind of movie you want to be caught watching in a hotel room alone?

Seriously, the thought of someone breaking in and finding me viewing this abomination was way more terrifying than the thought of being murdered in my bed as at least that way I wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of facing my loved ones later.

It is bloody enjoyable tho'.

With its whore-baiting, hat wearing, nappy crucifying opening the movie hits the ground running and whilst Karl Walter Diess being dubbed by trailer voice-over legend Richardson Green (or was it Donald Leroy LaFontaine? I can't be arsed checking) not so much breaks the fourth wall rather it beats it into submission before pissing on its shoes, the film as a whole ticks all the right exploitation boxes.

Violent murder?

Check.

Inadvisable attempts at portraying youth culture?

Check.

Saucy virgin heroine in clothes a size too small?

Check.

Gratuitous lesbian teasings?

Check.

Overweight, mustachioed Germans?

You get the idea.

It's just a pity then that around the 35 minute mark the whole film grinds to a halt as you realise that other than the thrill of hearing Dagmar Hedrich swear whilst flashing her well kept fanny (and occasionally her - admittedly peachy - arse) at everyone the film has literally fuck all else to offer.

But scarily enough that's part of its charm.

 

Font.

You know it's shit, you assume that the cast and crew know it's shit but fair play to 'em they carried on regardless so the least you can do is give them and hour and 14 minutes of your time.

Especially if the alternative is The Great Christmas Pottery Takedown on Channel 4 whilst knocking back a fifth glass of Pinot noir and third bag of prawn cocktail Skips.

So damning with faint praise then?

Well it is what I do best.

merry christmas...

 ...to all readers (yes, both of you).

 

hp source.

So that's the Christmas holidays finally upon us, the Lamont brood is gathered at Unwell Mansion ready to celebrate the birth of the baby Jesus and partake in our many yuletide traditions of which one is to rewatch this beauty.

Curse of the Crimson Altar (1968).
Dir: Vernon Sewell.
Cast: Christopher Lee, Boris Karloff, Michael Gough, Rosemarie Reede, Virginia Wetherell, Barbara Steele and Mark Eden.

"It's like Boris Karloff is going to pop up at any moment!"

You have to feel sorry for square jawed antique dealer Robert Manning (Marco Polo himself and latter day Corrie mad man Eden), not only has his better looking brother Peter gone missing - kidnapped by a pervy tea towel wearing Satanic cult led by a turquoise breasted witch named Lavinia (swinging sixties sex goddess Steele) - we got to see this amazing spectacle in the pre-credits teaser - after sending him only one of a matching pair of candle sticks but, and this is much more important, his attempts at flirting with his assistant Esther (Reede) have all the erotic pulling power of your dad pissed up and trying it on with a bridesmaid at a wedding.

The mighty man tits don't really help either if I'm honest.

With only a hastily written note detailing Peter's last whereabouts - which if you think about it is more than most folk have to go on - Robert heads off to the typographically odd Craxted Lodge in the quaint English village of Greymarsh, which by some bizarre twist of fate and plot convenience is where his family originally hails from, for some answers.

And maybe even a shirt or two that fit from the local tailors.

Barbara Steele: Ask yer granddad.

Driving into town in the middle of the night Robert is welcomed by the sight of a nearly naked young girl being chased by two mob filled cars and with him being an heroic type he pulls over, leaps out of his motor and to her defence.

Wouldn't you know it tho', it's all a huge misunderstanding and the group are actually playing a grown up version of hide and seek called run and ravish.

Sounds reasonable I guess.

Making his apologies for trying to punch everyone involved our hero is surprised to find himself invited along to the annual whacked-out witch party - of the type that only exist in the minds of middle aged film producers in the late '60's - being held at the Lodge.

Cut to ten minutes of saucy body painting, exotic types pouring cheap Cava over their overripe breasts, besuited Brylcream boys smoking dope and girls timidly touching each others thighs whilst licking their lips.

Robert, realizing that with all the drinking going on he might actually pull immediately grabs a large one and proceeds to fire into the first girl he sees, blonde bombshell Eve (Weatherell, best known for playing dishy Dyoni in the first Dalek story and waving her breasts at Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange) who just happens to be the niece of J.D. Morley (Christopher 'the kids school fees are how much?' Lee), the man he's there to see regarding his missing brother.

Lucky that.

Christopher Lee tries out Mark Eden's new Ronco anti-mooth shite-in mask.

Escorted by Morely's monosyllabic manservant Elder (the shameless Gough) to the drawing room, Robert is informed that Morley has never met his brother and has absolutely no idea who he is but does offer to let him lodge at the house until he either finds him or nails his niece.

Which is thoughtful of him.

Thanking his host before heading off for a quick Pot Noodle, Robert is waylaid by the arrival of the wheelchair bound local witchcraft expert Professor John Marsh (Karloff, nuff said) who, armed only with a bottle of home brewed tonic wine and a bag of torture instruments proceeds to regale our hero with the tale of the luscious Lavinia Morley, a witch burned by the towns folk a hundred years ago that very night.

The party it seems is the locals way of celebrating the event because nothing says community spirit like a good burning.

Except maybe abusing the local mentally unstable man by tying ribbons to trees..

How your mum earns the money for all your Christmas presents.

Now that the entire cast have been introduced we can get on with the plot good and proper.

And my word what a plot it turns out to be featuring as it does a Joe Orton style mute manservant with a gun fetish, LSD fueled dream sequences full of middle-aged men in bondage gear alongside tassle-titted butch babes in animal masks, horrible bri-nylon Kung Fu style pyjamas and, most disturbingly a bizarre sixties style revolving lamp that communicates from beyond the grave using Barbara Steele's voice.

Tonight live on stage....One Direction!

It's not all breasts, booze and beasts tho' as Robert is soon dragged headlong into an hallucinogenic hellhole of soul selling and rare silverware that even Bargain Hunt's Charles Hanson* would be wary of.

Tho' saying that he'd have had absolutely no problem bedding at least half of the party goers by now.

Even Christopher Lee would have been tempted.

Probably.

Hanson: Hmmm bop (him on the head).

So, will Robert find his brother and manage to get a good price for the candlesticks?

Will bubbly Barbara pop out of her gravity defying dress?

And most importantly will Robert's frankly over aggressive pulling technique of attempting to force himself upon Eve culminate in a kissing session or a restraining order?

Five miles...roughly speaking.

Executive produced by Tony Tenser, the man who gave us Witchfinder General, The Sorcerers, Cul-de-sac, Repulsion and Frightmare amongst others, written by Mervyn Haisman and Henry Lincoln of Doctor Who fame, based on a story by HP Lovecraft and with a cast to die for (oh and Mark Eden), Curse of The Crimson Altar should be one of the Greatest British horror movies ever made.

I say should be because what we end up with is a gloriously cliched and convoluted pot boiler of a 'B' picture that's so simplistic in it's plotting as to make Scooby Doo look like Eraserhead.

Barbara Steele: She'll have plenty of energy left for me long after you've crawled into a corner for a cry.

That's not to say it isn't still wildly entertaining and worth a look tho', if only for the legendary Karloff and Lee sharing screen time.

It's just a pity we don't get to see more of the magnificent Ms. Steele in all her technicolour glory which frankly would be far more attractive than a topless Mark Eden grubbily pawing at Virginia Wetherell's flimsy nightie with his massive sausage fingers.

Erotic as that maybe for your grannie I'm sorry but it does nowt for me.

Wetherell: Nip slip and side shed.

Adequately directed in a workman-like manner by 'B' movie stalwart Vernon Sewell, director of The Blood Beast Terror - the film that Peter Cushing decried as his 'worse ever' - Crimson Altar isn't necessarily bad or unwatchable it's just that with hindsight and seeing the film as the last gasp of the whole Roger Corman led/Hammer following gothic horror cycle of the fifties and sixties before gruesome realism and grittiness took over that both the audience and the actors deserved a wee bit better.

Bloody Hell that's a bit of a downer to end on isn't it? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Tho' to be honest here I was really thinking of Izzie Balmer. 

 

the king is dead.

 RIP Udo Kier

  14 October 1944 - 23 November 2025.

 

(egg) box frenzy

Haven't rewatched this in years, last time was when I reviewed it for the first issue of Crypt of Cult magazine (still available to buy over at Amazon, it makes a brilliant  read) and have come to the realization that it doesn't ever get the love it deserves.

A wee bit like your mum really.

Anyway seeing as it's Ian McCulloch's  birthday today I thought I'd reshare my thoughts on this classic, I mean even Morrisons seem to be celebrating this movie with their range of Contamination tie-in eggs....

So where do you start with such a review? 

With a huge HAPPY BIRTHDAY IAN! to its star obviously.

Enjoy.

Contamination (AKA Alien Contamination, Contamination: Alien on Earth, Toxic Spawn. 1980)

Dir: Luigi Cozzi (AKA Lewis Coates).

Cast: Ian McCulloch, Louise Marleau, Marino Mase, Carlo De Mejo, your mum  and a big green jelly.

Opening as most 80's Italian horror movies do - with grainy aerial shots of New York cut to a totally inappropriate synth score (this time supplied by Italy's finest prog rock legends Goblin) - Contamination begins with a mysterious 'ghost ship' approaching the harbour.

Not the one from Zombie Flesh Eaters tho', that was last weekend.

New York's finest, Lieutenant Tony Aris (played by the fantastically tanned Marino Mase) calls on the bizarrely out of (lip) synch Dr. Turner to explore the ship with him and a group of faceless (literally, they're all wearing bio-hazard masks) cops, who after wandering around in the dark for ten minutes come across the bloodied remains of the crew.

Turner is shocked, it appears that everyone on board either:

A. was replaced by shoddily cut up shop window dummies covered in cow intestines and jam.
or
B. exploded.

"Shite in mah....oh."

After depositing their lunch over one of the corpses (as you do) our intrepid band carefully creep into the ships hold, only to discover boxes upon boxes marked 'café' and a big green glowing egg under a pipe.

If that wasn't enough to make even the bravest man fill his trousers a strange and otherworldly noise, akin to a rusty tuba being played by an asthmatic beagle is spookily echoing around the hold.

Poking the egg with a pencil, Turner is shocked to see it burst open, showering him and all the team (save Lieutenant Aris) with what looks like a mix of PVA glue, green poster paint and KY jelly that has the fairly unusual effect of making all the non speaking extras stomachs explode leaving Aris looking slightly bewildered and the audience ready for 90 minutes of pure terror.

Probably.

"How'd you like your eggs love?"

Aris is whisked away to a top secret military base run by the, um, 'lovely' Colonel Stella Holmes (Marleau), who after stripping him naked, giving him an old blanket and locking him in a big fish tank explains that she runs a special operations unit (Section 5) specifically set up to combat the menace of scary eggs and would he like to join?

You would....and your Granddad probably did. Twice.

Aris jumps at the chance and, clad in a pair of Quick Fit overalls, accompanies Colonel Holmes and co. to a warehouse 'downtown' where they find what looks like a cut-price version of jive talking Italian 'B' god Bobby Rhodes guarding hundreds of the so-called killer eggs.

As the soldiers advance replica-Rhodes bursts one of the eggs causing him and his buddies stomachs to explode leaving the surviving eggs free to be destroyed by flame thrower equipped soldiers.

I have to be honest and admit that I'm really at a loss to explain the logic behind his plan.

"He did WHAT in his cup?"

If nothing else tho' it does allow Holmes to take a couple of them away to examine giving her time to deduce that these eggs could only have come from Mars and that they were brought back by astronauts on the last mission there.

You see, it appears that one of the crew, 'Mutha' Hubbard (played to angry ginger haired Scottish perfection by Italian horror veteran McCulloch, the reason you're here) had been ranting about finding a cavern full of big green tuba playing eggs on the red planet but his usually jolly and humorous co-pilot cum ex-UKIP councilor Neil Hamilton, had calmly (some would say too calmly - as if possessed) told everyone Hubbard was a mentalist.

Rather than find a way of checking his story Colonel Holmes had him locked up.

Now there's only one thing she can do.

Yup, go round to his house, slag off his sexual prowess, apologize for calling him mad and ask him to join a secret mission to South America to investigate the company exporting the eggs.

McCulloch sighs, swigs some more Heineken and slaps the colonel round the head before agreeing to join her.

Well, he is out of booze and it's carnival season down there.

Cue stock footage of a radio-controlled plane, mixed with shots of holiday makers, children in big hats smoking cigars, Aris in a pair of obscenely tight trousers and white socks and we're off to the hotel.

But our heroes are being watched.

Hamilton didn't die in a mysterious plane crash (I forgot to mention that sorry) but is in fact running the alien egg export company and his got something big, throbbing and slimy just for Colonel Holmes.....

Your Gran's cum face. Possibly.

It's a race against time to rescue the by now showering Stella - c'mon she's fairly fit for an old bird - and save the world.

Will they discover the secret of Hamilton's link to the eggs?

Will Aris get his leg over with Holmes or will his quickfire one liners fail to ignite her passions?

Why has Hubbard stolen a plane without telling anyone (to find more Heineken apparently)?

And will they survive an audience with the pant wetting terror that is 'the alien cyclops'?

From writing for the famous Italian movie magazine Galaxy and co-authoring Four Flies on Grey Velvet to directing such classics as Lou Ferrigno's big screen debut Hercules, Argento contemporary cum shopkeeper Cozzi's career trajectory has been nothing if not interesting.

Obviously you'll have to check out a film book/blog that cares about annoying things like facts and interesting content if you want to know more.

But if you're in a rush there are three films in particular stand out from his resume that you should watch ASAP - the frankly indescribable Caroline Munro starring Argento/Three Mothers sequel/tribute The Black Cat, the Caroline Munro (again, does he have dodgy pics of her stashed away?)/David Hasslehoff space fantasy Starcrash - the film that his career catapulted into the stratosphere (sort of) - and this, his follow up sci-fi epic where he turned his dreamy eyes to Ridley Scott's film Alien for inspiration.

Luckily for him (and us) his producers agreed.

But how could anyone attempt to match the cinematic perfection that was - and still is - the Scott classic?

It's with this solution that Cozzi cemented himself as a true genius of modern cinema.

Forgoing the tight editing, oppressive cinematography and top-notch casting of his inspiration Cozzi decided to take the opposite route and with it's Shoddily shot, inanely plotted action scenes and a cast that appears to be sleep walking (yes my friends even Ian McCulloch), Contamination not so much pays homage to Alien than breaks into its house, strips Ridley's classic naked, bundles it in a cupboard and sticks its toothbrush up its arse before getting it's dog pissed and putting lipstick on it.

Under blue moon I saw you
So soon you'll take me
Up in your arms
Too late to beg you or cancel it
Though I know it must be the killing time
Unwillingly mine...Fuck me it's a massive egg!

Unfortunately audiences mistook this brave almost Cinéma vérité style for genuine cackhandedness and stayed away in droves whereas in the UK the films stark realism was mistaken for a documentary leading the film to end up banned as one of the notorious 'video nasties' that your granddad keeps harping on about.

That's right, you could be prosecuted for owning this back in the day.

But luckily not for making it.

Eventually the truth was discovered during the infamous Wikileaks saga and the film was rushed onto DVD to terrify a new generation.

And talking to that generation directly I'd just like to say can YOU find a more enjoyable egg based, exploding chest filled Eurohorror than this one?

I think not.

she-it.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.