drawn to life.

 RIP Renato Casaro.

 

standby for action!

Celebrating 60 years of Thunderbirds with 60 minutes of Spectrum Sounds and Terrahawk tunes in one mighty Mysteron mix.....

 

 

 

never forget.

 

spak to the future.

Seeing as it was Star Trek Day yesterday I rewatched this last night in way of celebration.

 Well that was short and to the point.

Turist Ömer Uzay Yokunda (AKA Ömer the Tourist in Star Trek 1973)
Dir: Hulki Saner.
Cast: Sadri Alisik, Erol Amac, Cemil Sahbaz, Ferdi Merter, Fusun Olgac and Yilmaz Sahin.....yes THAT Yilmaz Sahin.

"Kompiter cevap verin. Zzt ne demek?"

The place: space, somewhere near the final frontier, the time: round about teatime, the USS Enterprise (recently refitted using MDF and cardboard by the look of things) is on a routine mission to deliver supplies to the eccentrically bearded Professor Minty and his homely (re: plain), bog eyed assistant, the short skirted, ample thighed Nancy.

Mincing quite alarmingly onto the bridge is the mulleted master of man-dom himself, Kaptan Kirk (Turkish action superstar Sahbaz), effeminately lisping orders to all and sundry as he rubs his thighs in a vaguely homo-erotic - and strangely enough incredibly hypnotic - manner.
 
Uhura (or to be more precise a Turkish council estate equivalent) just nods with a look of concern usually seen on the faces of mothers with particularly naughty children at everything he says.

Or maybe she just doesn't speak Turkish, who knows?

Or cares.

Arriving at their destination via the use of blatantly stolen clips from the teevee show Kirk - as always - decides to lead the mission himself, taking 'Scocthy' (Sahin), Mr. Spak (star of the Turkish Exorcist, the late great Erol Amac), Dr. Makkoy (Merter, best known for his portrayal of Sefa Kervancioglu in the teevee hit A Bitter Life) and the green shirted ensign Ricky with him for company.

So far so standard Star Trek.

If it were shot thru' a spunk filled sock obviously.

The Pet Shop Boys have let themselves go.

Beaming down to the planet's surface in a fantastic mix of film scratches and camera pauses accompanied by the sounds of an old man whistling our heroes find that Minty is none too happy about having visitors.

"Leave the supplies an go!" he screams.

In Turkish obviously.


At this point the casual viewer may be wondering why the actress playing Nancy keeps changing between scenes.

And - if they're really mean and quite sexist - why none of the are even vaguely attractive.

Fear not dear viewer it's not bad continuity - tho' there's a lot of it about - but because she is in reality a shape changing 'salt vampire'.

Hmmmm, this plot is very familiar.

Effects.

Luckily before the viewer can get too distracted trying to remember which Star Trek episodes they've nicked it from*, Minty - for reasons best known to himself - unveils his latest creations to the captain and his crew.

And what has he been spending his time (and Starfleet funds) working on all this time?

Believe it or not our scientist chum announces that he's built the perfect android.

Tho' you wouldn't think it to look at it seeing as what he presents us with is a fake tanned, greasy haired pikey of the kind you see operating the waltzers at the fairground in a loincloth accompanied by a couple of harsh faced gypsy girls painted gold.

Maybe they're in disguise?

There's no time for such trivialities tho' as no sooner have the ravishing she-bots started fawning over our hunky captain that a blood curdling (well cock bothering) scream is heard from behind a nearby rock.

Racing as quick as his chubby legs will carry him (which isn't very) Kirk is shocked (well I assume it's shock it could well be constipation) to discover the prone form of Ensign Ricky, killed by Nancy who has now reverted to her true terrifying form.

Which to all intents and purposes appears to be that of a fake fur covered giant spotty space otter.

As Kirk and co. examine the body Nancy sneaks back home before getting to work sticky-taping what looks like a Kinder Egg to the hunky roboman chest.

I felt that a pic was needed here to break up the massive amount of text and this was all I had to hand....sorry.

It's at this point that things get really weird as in a scene that would make David Lynch scratch his head in confusion the movie suddenly (and very jerkily) cuts to a wedding party where a greasy, mustached fat man in a shit hat, Omer (comedy god Sadri Alisik and the reason we're here) is being forced to marry a toothless old lady by a bunch of goons in ill fitting suits that they've obviously stolen from a morgue.

Omer gurns and grimaces like a man possessed (or at the very least indulging in a guilty, Pot Noodle fueled wank outside the local school - we've all been there) whilst the old woman nonchalantly looks on, sexily sucking on her gums.

But just as the wedding ceremony is about to begin Omar mysteriously vanishes in a puff of orange smoke, rematerialising on the alien planet.

Before he can catch his breath (or even crabs) tho' Omer finds himself being chased by the hunky, baby oiled He-bot,stopping occasionally to jump up and down grabbing his hat whilst shouting "Ooooh ooohhh!" as the robot suggestively thrust his hips towards him before grabbing our hapless behatted hero and roughly taking him up the rocky crevasse.

It's right about now that the film takes an even more disturbing turn and in a scene that even Lars von Trier would think twice about subjecting his audience to Omer is forcibly held down as the evil alien Nancy  proceeds to lick his grubby hand.

In glorious close-up.

For what seems like hours.

Ranting at her in Turkish, Omer takes his (non licked hand) and makes a grab for the Kinder egg taped to the robots back, finally managing to get hold of it and giving it a good squeeze causing the hunky roboman to start violently thrusting his hips whilst making strange animal sex noises.

This amuses Omer no end as he start laughing and grunting like like a creepy beast as he squeezes and rubs the egg more and more, watching the robot air shag whilst Nancy continues to lick his fingers.

Say what you like but it's shit like this that gives Turist Ömer Uzay Yokunda the edge over Star Trek Discovery.

"Put it in me!"

From this point in the fuzzy-cheeked foreign funnyman that is Omer takes centre stage (and centre seat) with his patented brand of unwashed and uncouth comedy gold, highlights of which include a scene where upon being taken prisoner by three mini-skirted and sexy booted women holding phasers, Omer reacts by stroking one of the women's thighs and pulling ever more unsettling faces whilst making pig noises.

If any movie will bring back memories of being bummed by your uncle Jim at Christmas it's this one.

Whether that's a good or bad thing is totally up to you.

I won't judge.

Uncle Jim and Auntie Pat - Bumming not shown.

Anyway back to the plot where Nancy - obviously tired of the taste of tramp - is now busy licking the corpse of Ensign Ricky, seemingly left to rot by a heartless kirk before taking on his form and beaming aboard the Enterprise.

Her goal?

To slobber all over the crews hands and steal their salt.

Or something.

After endless scenes of Nancy changing shape and licking people, Kirk and Spak decide to return to the planet to get to the bottom of this saliva based mystery once and for all.

Exploring the local cave system the pair become separated and Kirk upon reaching the surface is confronted by the most terrifying creature ever committed to celluloid.

Yup, it's a radiation scarred Fimble with scary jazz hand action!.

Kirk, confused as to whether he should shoot or shag the beast, stands entranced as the creature performs a sexy dance routine before suddenly belching fire towards the captain who, in a fabulous act of heroism hides behind a rock till Spak turns up and shoots it in the face.

But where is Omer? I hear you cry.

Well it seems that he's back on the planet too.

Nancy bored with all those ships corridors  has dragged him back to her love nest where upon taking on the form of a big hipped beehived bikini babe has decided that his sweat is sweetest and is currently attempting to lick him to death.

Omer, surprisingly for a man facing certain death, is energetically reciprocating whilst pulling what must be a Turkish bum cum face.

Republica: The Pontins years.

Luckily (for us) this insane spit porn ends with the arrival of Mr Spak who upon seeing the horrors unfolding infront of him pulls out his shiny smooth weapon and threatens to unleash its milky white ray all over Nancy's face.

The vile vixen counters this by morphing into a Sexy Vulcan babe and with a flutter of her eyelashes and wiggle of her pointed ears persuades Spak to fight Kirk to the death.

What follows is the greatest display of slow fighting ever captured on celluloid as our heroes throw dummy punches, harsh looks and grunting noises at each other whilst Omer and Nancy look on.

"Spak - make porn come on my television."

The whole debacle quickly comes to an end when Nancy - obviously overcome by boredom - just walks off, freeing Spak from her control.

Kirk avoids any uncomfortable feeling by totally ignoring the fight and heads off to find Nancy only to be attacked by around twenty leopard print thong wearing young boys.

Which is nice, if a little unexpected.

And very possibly illegal.

What now follows is around ten minutes of Kirk and Spak wrestling a group of sunburned oiled pre-teens whilst Omer pulls 'amusing' faces before running over to an upright cooker and fiddling with some knobs causing the boys to start kicking each other up the arse before collapsing.

It's like a virtual tour of Dave Lee Travis' mind.

Is it in yet?

With the film races toward it's end and viewer tolerance quickly running out Kirk and Spak finally confront Nancy, deciding that it'd be best for everyone involved if they just shoot her.

Seeing it as a fair cop she decides to face death in her true 'space otter' form.

Come on the costume must have taken up at least a third of the films £27 budget so they need to get their moneys worth.

Choking back the tears (and their vomit) our intrepid duo take aim only to be stopped by Dr. Makkoy whom it is revealed is an old flame of Nancy's and still fancies a bit of action.

Plus he has a thing for girls with hairy backs and arses.

But as we all know a leopard (or in this case an otter) can't change its spots and as Spak and Makkoy discuss the finer points of wiping out the last of a species Nancy sneaks away and begins to lick the captain.

To death.

Luckily for him tho' his screams get so loud that they can't hear each other speak so Spak has no choice but to start slapping Nancy around the head whilst widly staring towards the camera.

Nancy bitch slaps the Vulcan and continues to lick and slobber over Kirk whilst Makkoy looks on helplessly.

Will the captain survive?

Will Omer re-appear and save the day in a golden shower of comedy goodness?

Will he return to Earth with Vulcan ears and mastery of the nerve pinch giving him a way of escaping the wedding?

It's a yes to this one by the way.

Insert amusing caption here.

Regular readers of this blog will already be aware of the Turkish film industries proud heritage of stealing from American blockbusters and 're-imagining' them on a budget of around twelve quid with thrift shop special effects and somebodies uncle in the lead.

Who can forget the Turkish Superman with it's shots of a Mego 8" action figure dangling precariously from a thread in front of a black and white teevee to simulate the flying scenes or the unforgettable Dunyayi Kurtaran Adam (AKA Turkish Star Wars), where a portly middle aged Luke Skywalker battles an army of Chuckle Hounds on trampolines?

Not much is known about the making of this classic (well, there might be info out there, but I can't be arsed researching it) but director Hulki Saner also made the 1974 hit Seytan (AKA Turkish Exorcist) and that the movies star, the late great Sadri Alisik was the Turkish equivalent of Stan Boardman, Johnny Vegas and a sweaty pervert rolled into one be-hatted piss stain package.

With seven popular movies behind him, taking in comedy adventures in locations as varied as the Middle East, Germany, Africa and The Killing Fields of Cambodia Turist Ömer Uzay Yokunda was his last appearance on the big screen with Alisik going into semi-retirement and becoming a poet, his book "Bir Ömürlük İstanbul" beame an instant best seller and is universally acknowledge as being the main inspiration for the fall of the Berlin Wall, Live Aid and series 24 of Doctor Who.

So popular was he that after his death the Turkish government alongside his wife Çolpan İlhan (Turkey's answer to Joan Collins) opened a huge cultural centre in his name.

No idea if it was staffed by stinky tramps that attempted to molest female attendees in a variety of amusing ways tho.

Perhaps if any readers have been they could email and tell me.

The only other thing I could find out about him was that his brother-in-Law was the famous (well in Turkey) writer, Atilla Ýlhan.

Hmmm.....I better stop before this begins to sound like a real film blog.

Be seeing you.






























* It's 'The Man Trap', the first episode ever aired on September 8, 1966 in the USA  if you're wondering.

keep on trekkin'

 

Celebrate Star Trek Day with a 60 minute trip across the final frontier of sound.

naschy birthday to you!

Seeing as it's the late, great Paul Naschy's birthday today I thought I'd (re)revisit an article I wrote for the late lamented Multitude of Movies magazine way back in 2015 which itself was based on (bits of) a review of the classic Curse of the Devil (AKA Return of the Werewolf, El Retorno de Walpurgis) for The yearly Paul Naschy Blogathon that used to run over at the frankly fantastic Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies site.


Plus it's worth a look just to see how much childish shite I have to cut out of stuff when I submit it for 'proper' publication.

Enjoy.

And happy birthday Mr Naschy!

Back in the days before t'internet (and, gulp even video) the only way you could find out about new (ok let's be honest here, any) horror movies was from local library books (usually written by Leslie Halliwell, a writer whose own ideas of good horror once noted that Night of The Living Dead had killed the genre and nothing of any worth had been made since) or one of the very few genre magazines available (stand up and be counted House of Hammer and on the rare occasions it got imported to a wee newsagent nearby Famous Monsters).

As a precocious seven year old force fed a Saturday night teevee double bill of Universal and RKO classics these greats of film literature were a godsend to me and I would spent all my spare time pouring over grainy black and white shots of Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff and Lon Chaney Jr. as the tragic Lawrence Talbot.

I'll never forget though (I have a good memory) that one particular issue had a photo of the Wolfman I'd never seen before, true it was labeled 'the Werewolf' and although the accompanying picture of a fraught young man had a hint of Chaney about him his name wasn't Talbot, it was Daninsky. 

Like any curious kid of that age I examined the picture for a few minutes before completely forgetting about it and turning the page to reread an article on what looked like the greatest monster movie ever.

Ah Crater Lake Monster where are you now?*

The love of horror stayed with me (as did the love of Universal) and thanks to magazines like Starburst information became easier to find, the Saturday night double bills sometimes featured the films of Eddie Romero alongside the old faithfuls and movies like Dawn of The Dead and Phantasm had fueled my (incredibly Autistic) geek gene, forcing me to learn more about the directors and their influences. 

As a teenager you can probably tell I was never asked out on dates.

Ever.

The strange sad faced man with the foreign name seemed to have disappeared without a trace though and whilst Coffin Joe was being photographed with Christopher Lee at swanky Parisian horror conventions it would take a controversial censorship bill of epic proportions to bring the legendary Paul Naschy to the attentions of young horror fans in dear old blighty.

Yup, I hate to admit it but it's thanks to the 1984 'video nasty' furore and the inadvertent banning of Naschy's 1975 monster mash The Werewolf and The Yeti that finally introduced me to the great man's work. 

And oh boy did I hate it.

Bizarrely enough, of all the films I devoured at the time this is one of those that I have only the vaguest recollections of; something about the infamous Abominable Snowman playing the bagpipes during a fight scene and being sent out of the room to get biscuits when Naschy got involved in a wee bit of threeway action comes to mind.

But the most upsetting thing about it, and I'll admit this stayed with me for years, wasn't the gore or the sex (or even the lack of decent biscuits at my nan's), it was because this young upstart seemed to be taking all the ideas, the drama and heartache (plus the dissolve effects) of my beloved Universal movies and trying to make them his own.

How very dare he.

So being the sensible and knowledgeable film connoisseur that I was (you know, the way you can only be when you're 14) there was only one thing I could do.

Yup, I laughed loudly at the screen and flounce back to my 'serious' horror movies, tutting audibly at anyone who even mentioned that film. Looking back I find myself dying a wee bit inside at the thought of being such a know all little brat, so caught up in my own (movie-based) importance that I totally failed to see the irony in the situation.

The whole fact that they reminded me of the Universal series was that Naschy was a fan too. It's just that he knew how to have fun with his 'fannishness'.


But who was this Paul Naschy fella and why is he so revered in the world of horror cinema?

Well herein lies a tale worthy of a movie itself.

Born Jacinto Molina Álvarez in Madrid, Spain on September 6, 1934 into a fairly well-to-do family - his father Enrique was a highly regarded furrier (as in he worked with fur not that he dressed up as a rabbit and attended conventions) – Naschy's first love was surprisingly, not cinema but weightlifting, a profession he actually pursued upon leaving college.

As he entered his 20's Naschy's career took a number of more and more eclectic turns, moving as he did between writing pulp western novels, illustrating comics, weightlifting and acting, his first on screen appearance being as a Mongol warlord in Luis Lucia's El Príncipe Encadenado in 1960.

No me neither.

More and more (albeit small) roles followed – including an uncredited appearance in the Jesus-tastic King Of Kings (1961) and as his understanding of the film making process grew so did his appreciation for cinema in general but it was a chance encounter in 1966 with horror legend Boris Karloff whilst appearing in an episode of the Bill Cosby starrer I Spy that set Naschy on the road that would finally lead him to success.

Reminiscing with the actor about his time at Universal, Naschy admitted his love for the character of The Wolf Man, a fascination that dated back to his viewing of Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943) as a child.

Whatever Karloff said to him isn't on record but we can assume he didn't tell him to piss off and have him thrown off set, otherwise I reckon his career would have taken a more bizarre turn and you'd be sitting here reading about an actor who portrayed a nasty aging Thespian in a series of increasingly demented revenge flicks set in the twilight world of episodic TV.

Actually there may be a book in that.

Naschy spent the next few years working on his first screenplay and in 1968 La Marca Del Hombre Lobo hit the big screen, introducing the world to the tragic tale of the doomed lycanthrope Waldemar Daninsky, a character – or descendants of – that Naschy would go on to play 12 times between 1968 and 2004's direct to video Tomb Of The Werewolf.

Bizarrely though he never actually intended to play Daninsky, only stepping up to the role after original choice Lon Chaney Jr. proved too ill to travel and a suitable candidate couldn't be found.

And from such accidental beginnings a horror legend was born.

But portraying one iconic character was obviously not enough for Naschy who, as his career grew went on to give us his unique takes on several classic screen monsters including Count Dracula and Mr. Hyde, alongside assorted mummies and demons as well as a host of vile villains and black-hearted bad guys in a career that spanned over 100 movies and 4 decades.

Frequently writing the scripts for the movies he appeared in, he added directing to his list of not too inconsiderable talents with the 1976 Devil worshipping delight Inquisition (in which he also starred and wrote) and later, when the horror genre fell from favour within the Spanish film industry, Naschy became a producer, at one point bizarrely enough making documentaries for Japanese television resulting in a slew of Spanish-Japanese co-productions, including the frankly fantastic (if not slightly bonkers) La Bestia Y La Espada Majica (1983).

If you don't believe me then you try and name another film that features a werewolf taking on a (real) tiger as well as assorted Ninjas and a sub-plot featuring a magic monster slaying sword.

In 1984 Naschy faced a crisis in both his career and personal life, firstly with the death of his father – with whom he'd always had a close relationship and latterly when his production company, Aconito Films, filed for bankruptcy – partly due to the aforementioned lack of interest in horror movies but mainly due to the total commercial failure of the ahead of its time spy spoof Operacion Mantis.

Imagine a Spanish Austin Powers by way of The Naked Gun channelling Benny Hill via 70's Burt Reynolds and you're halfway there.

Things got worse for Naschy in 1991 when he too suffered a heart attack during a weightlifting session at his local gym, forcing the once seemingly indestructible star to take stock of his life leading to the publication in 1997 of an incredibly honest and deeply touching autobiography, Memorias De Un Hombre Loco.

As the new millennium dawned though so did a new found respect and interest in the masters work when in 2000 noted American horror magazine Fangoria inducted Naschy into its Horror Hall of Fame, thanks in part to his many – worldwide - fans championing his cause but his highest accolade was to follow when, in 2001 King Juan Carlos I presented Naschy with The Gold Medal Award for Fine Arts (the Spanish equivalent of a knighthood).

Paul Naschy passed away from cancer on 30th November 2009, still working away on new and more terrifying horror projects until his death, the lonely lycanthrope had finally come home to the love and affection he truly deserved.

Daninsky and his creator resting among the likes of Boris Karloff and Lon Chaney Jr. as true greats of horror and set to thrill and terrify fans of the fantastic of all ages for years to come.














*It took about 40 years but I did finally get to see The Crater Lake Monster by the way.

beaches.

OK this is the last one. I promise.


Sand Sharks (2011).
Dir: Mark Atkins
Cast: Corin Nemec, Gina Holden, Eric Scott Woods, Robert Pike Daniel, Vanessa Lee Evigan, Brooke Hogan and some sharks.

"That's gotta be bad for business!"

The beachside resort of Fiddler's Slit has never recovered from a spate of shark attacks two years previously, local businesses are shutting and money is scarce.


Enter (quite roughly, you know he'd like it) wheeling dealing party animal and son of the towns mayor, local wide boy Jimmy Green (Parker Lewis himself (again) Nemec) returning home with a scheme to breathe some life into the dying economy (and hopefully clear his debts with the mob along the way) by organising a huge Neil Gaiman themed (possibly) beach party entitled the Sandman Festival.

"And the winner of the Vic Morrow fancy dress competition is...."

What Jimmy doesn't realise is that his ex-squeeze and current Deputy Sheriff, the cutely button nosed Brenda (Greg's daughter Vanessa Lee) alongside her burly bro', Sheriff John Stone (Immortal Island's Captain Jack himself, Woods) are desperate to close the beaches after a number of dirt bikers have been found half eaten behind the bins.

Fearing further shark/bin attacks (and partly to show Jimmy who's boss) Brenda calls in the eminent shark scientist Dr. Sandy Powers (Brooke, daughter of Hulk Hogan giving a credible performance as a scientist) to check for tooth marks and stuff.

The most amazing discovery she makes tho' is that all these shark attacks happened out of the water.

Scary.

"Trust us...I is scientist!"

Meanwhile the bodies keep piling up.

Well, bits of them do.

Calling a town meeting for the understandably concerned residents (all six of them), Sheriff Stone is surprised when town drunk and token comedy Scotsman Angus (video game voice-over god Daniel) stumbles into the meeting and quotes Quint's shark scene from Jaws in it's entirety before adding, in a neat spin of his own, that they're dealing with prehistoric Sand Sharks that travel thru' sand as if it were water.

Yeah....right.

Fortunately Dr. Powers agrees with this theory and, seeing as she has terrific breasts (unlike Angus whose breasts have seen better days) the town offer to help in any way they can.

Meanwhile Jimmy attempts to set up some staging without anyone noticing.

"I wouldn't want one of them swimming up my arse!"

With his events team sneakily brought onto the island with a rubber shark in tow with the hope of convincing everyone it's the one they're after and Dr. Sandy busy giving the Sheriff the (glass) eye, Jimmy only has to plug in his record player for the festival to begin.

Unfortunately it fuses the whole islands power, leaving his big bald electrician pal to repair everything, little knowing that his constant banging is attracting the real killer.

The sand shark is on the move.

"Hello French polishers? You may have just saved my life!"

Luckily Sand Sharks are allergic to electricity (and perspective by the look of things) and the poor bugger bursts into flames leaving a smouldering carcass and the beach free for partying.

Awesome as our American cousins say.

It's not over yet tho' for as the festival continues and literally dozens of college kids arrive to enjoy the festival, Sandy realizes that the shark they killed was just a baby and that somewhere beneath the sand hundreds of sharks are heading toward the beach attracted by the (good) vibrations emanating from the party.

Clooney and Diaz: the abattoir years.

Will homely Brenda, sexed up Sandy, Sheriff Stone and bad boy Jimmy be able to stop the sharks enjoying their sand based snacks?

Will Brenda and Jimmy get back together?

And what is the secret in Angus' shed?

A top fish doctor yesterday.

From the director of Snakes on A Train comes this wild yet scientifically accurate story of sharks gone schitzo, based I'm informed on a true story and featuring a fantastic cast headed up by the naturally talented Brooke Hogan here (I could have sworn she was a real scientist), breath-taking visual effects and even a sly dig at Roger Corman  – why this never got a cinema release is beyond me.

Actually I do know, it's because it's cheaper, nastier and shoddier than your mums underwear.

Which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

I mean it's not like director Atkins is taking it all that seriously (the above mentioned casting seems to prove this) and the whole movie seems to wear it's threadbare budget as a badge of pride which does make the whole thing very endearing, a wee bit like that huge-headed, pockmarked faced girl with the nice arse you used to get drunk at youth club cos she'd let you touch her bra.

Don't deny it, I saw you.

Plus Brooke Hogan seemed to enjoy it seeing as she went on to make 2 Headed Shark Attack alongside that other great thespian Carmen Electra and the lovely (she reads this blog) Corinne Nobili.

And it's always good to see the under-rated Corin Nemec battling against woeful CGI again after his roles in the stunning 2005 hit Raging Sharks and the truly terrifying Mosquito Man, and best of all in this movie he gets to sing at the sharks too.

Well?

What more do you want?

fish fang grrrrrrr!

Maybe give up on the whole shark thing now eh?


Dinoshark (2010).
Dir: Kevin O'Neill (not the one that drew Nemesis The Warlock).
Cast: Eric Balfour, Iva Hasperger (me too), Aarón Díaz, Dan Golden, Christina Nicole, Humberto Busto and Lord Roger of Corman.

"Welcome to the Endangered Species list, bastard!"

Our story begins off the coast of Alaska (or at the very least a lovely painting of it), where solo yachtsman Sevrin Seas (as himself) has managed to bump his boat into a particularly sharp bit of CGI iceberg.

Deciding to dive into the icy waters to check the hull for scratches it's not long before our salty pal is being stalked by something in the deep blue sea.

And no, it's not LL Cool J.

Suddenly and without warning (apart from a whooshing sound) poor Mr. Seas (and his handy GPS) is swallowed whole by what looks like a huge, grey computer generated turd with fins.

And  a bad case of all over genital warts.

"Shark in mah mooth!"

Meanwhile in Mexico (just across the street from where they shot Sharktopus) the horse-faced and bullet nippled everyman Trace McGraw (Balfour from 24 and the Texas Chainsaw remake) having recently returned home from sailor school, has decided to put his training to work by running a tourist cruise throughout the holiday season in a kinda Carry on Cruising way.

Sun, sand, sexy senoritas and various STD's beckon.


Well it would be if the harbor patrol would let him live on his boat.

A sexy senorita yesterday.

Heading to his pal Jeremy's pub The Salty Seaman to drown his sorrows, a long (well longer than usual) faced Trace soon gets chatting the blonde bombshell, scientist and girls water polo coach, Carol Brubaker (Hasperger from the Billy Zane classic Vlad) who just happens to be a buddy of his bestest pal Rita (Nicole, who doesn't seem to list this on her CV so we won't mention it).

After a few drinks and a wee bit of character development, Rita makes her farewells and heads off to the beach for a swim leaving Trace and Carol to stare at each other giggling whilst trying to figure out who has the bigger chin.

Adrien Brody: the mooth shite-in years.

Making her excuses to leave (and no she doesn't just say "I have my women's period" and walk away) our brainy beauty heads of to meet hotelier and part-time dirty perv Mike (Bad Girls from Mars star Golden) who talks her into having her smooth thighed female volleyball team hold an exhibition game in a canal that leads to open sea.

For no other reason it seems than to make for an exciting climax.

Whilst all this chat is highly commendable (and unusual) for this kind of movie, what we really want is gratuitous scenes of Frank Dinoshark chowing down on some olive skinned beauty.

Well we get half of our wish granted when poor Rita becomes the main course in our prehistoric chums Latino lunch.

Entrails on mah beach!

Worried (kinda) by their friends non appearance at dinner time, Trace and co. head out to look for her, finding instead our titanic toothed terror chomping away on a couple of non speaking extras dressed as rejects from Baywatch Nights.

What the fuck is this giant scaly beast? inquires Trent with the worried look of a slightly constipated beagle.

Luckily for us (and the plot) as well as everything else, Carol is an expert on badly rendered prehistoric shark type things and heads over to see her old friend, eminent marine biologist Dr. Frank Reeves (the late, great Corman himself looking as sexy as ever) to see if he has any idea how to make it die.

Call me stupid but it doesn't matter how old and grizzled it is cos at the end of the day it's only a big fish?

Why would she need to ask how to kill it?

I mean it's not like it's lead lined or made of gold.....surely bullets, bombs or a big net would do?

"Come my children...suck the movie milk from my man tits!"

Anyway, Trace and Carol decide it'd be wise to hunt down and kill poor Dinoshark before he has a chance to eat any more of the admittedly small number of tourists there for the resorts annual bring and buy sale.

So will our dynamic chinned duo manage to kill this titan of terror before the budget runs out?

Or will the swim team get eaten whole?

Well, what do you think?

"Laugh noooooooooo!"

Another day, another big shark and another SyFy original movie produced by Sir Roger of Corman on a break from counting his money, directed by the man that gave you Dinocroc (and did the effects on the Feast trilogy) and starring the pretty one from the TCM remake.

What's not to love?

Apart from the acting, visual effects and shoddy production values obviously.

Filmed in exactly the same locations - and with exactly the same script - as Sharktopus you kinda know what you're getting yourself into even before you've slapped a fiver down for this beauty in your local Morrisons and if you don't then it's no ones fault but your own.

And frankly you should be ashamed of yourself.

Rum, sodomy and the lash.

I mean come on, you know the CGI beast is going to look like a market knock-off childs bath toy, that the performances will be pitch at comatose level and that the lead actress has been hired on breast size rather than talent but who the hell cares cos sometimes after a hard days toil you just want to see busty babes and comedy shirted men get eaten by monsters.

Admit it, you know it's true.

It's just a pity that Eric Roberts was busy.

fish lips.

Still on a celebrating Jaws kick and as an aside who knew that there were so many great shark movies out there?

Oh there's this one too.

Super Shark (2011).
Dir: Fred Olen Ray. 
Cast: John Schneider, Sarah Lieving, Tim Abell, Rya Meyers, Jerry Lacy, Jimmie “J.J.” Walker and a (super) shark.

That's one big ass shark!

Before we begin good and proper I'd just like to point out for any newbies that for those of us that actually like this genre it's the norm in modern monster shark based movies that the creatures appearance is usually always due to a pesky offshore drilling accident that the titular beast is released/awoken/reanimated.

The unique thing this time is that the entire operation appears to have been constructed out of Lego in someones bath.

Which kinda adds to the movies (wet) dream-like quality I guess.

Anyway there's no time to guffaw over the visual effects as we're suddenly hurtled into the plot good and proper were a couple of expendable wet-suited lobster lovers are busy taking photo's of their fave animal whilst a silicon enhanced woman rubs chip fat onto her stomach and lies about on deck.

Unfortunately we have little time to get to know these obviously important characters as mere seconds after the appearance of those frankly terrifying breasts the aforementioned super shark has scoffed the divers and eaten the poor damsel too.

He's that kinda fish.

"Hey! Ya got tits an' tonsils? Well yer hired!"

Enter (but not roughly from behind obviously) marine biologist Katherine 'Kat' Carmichael (fish lipped Lieving from that other creature classic Monster) a sharp suited ex- FBI (Fish Bureau of Investigation) agent ready to kick some pollution based arse, especially if the arse belongs to the luxuriously haired head of the oil company Mr. Roger Wade (ex Duke of Hazzard, father of Superman and sometime low budget beast botherer Schneider), whom she blames for some stuff.

John....raise your hand from under the desk very slowly....

Meanwhile back at the beach, hunky surfer type Jeff Sexington has returned home from college for the summer to take up the position of studly lifeguard alongside his ex-girlfriend Edna and the bookish ginger princess Calli (Meyers, the only memorable one of the three. Can you tell?).

it looks like it's gonna be love triangles ahoy tho' seeing as Calli loves Jeff but Jeff still has feelings for Edna with it all coming to a head at superstar DJ Dynamite Stevens (Jimmie “J.J.” Walker, no me neither) Ms. Wet T-Shirt night.

Really, I shit you not.

Rya Meyers reaction to this review.

Luckily everyone involved is eaten the next day leaving the script free to concentrate on the up till now useless Ms. Carmichael and her newly discovered sidekick and comedy sea captain, Skipper Chuck (the thinking woman's Jason London, Abell here seen channeling Kurt Russell's glorious Captain Ron by way of a drunken uncle) and their attempts to find then kill the shark.

But don't worry, there are plenty more unnecessary breast shots to go before then.

Which is a pity but par for the course in movies like this.

Plus the shark has still to fight a kiddies toy submarine and pluck a fighter jet from the sky before it's secret is revealed...

Yup, the frighteningly fake fucker can use it's fins to walk on land.

No, really.

Well I guess that does make it a kinda super shark.

Plus it makes a better title than CG-ed Shark Shite Fest I guess.

"Do you need any scissors sharpening?"

Don't get too scared tho'  dear readers for as luck would have it the dear old US army have a secret weapon for just such an emergency.

A walking tank.

That's all you need to know really.

I don't have the words.

God bless director, producer, screenwriter, actor, cinematographer and sometime wrestler Fred Olen Ray who after such an auspicious start in the business way back in 1971 with the frankly fantastic Demented Death Farm Massacre has given us such delights as Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers, the Buster Crabbe starrer The Alien Dead and Evil Toons amongst others too many (and sometimes just too awful) to mention.

It's good to know that after nearly 600 years in the business he can still be relied on to deliver the goods.

Even if in this case the goods are a large plastic looking fish fighting a dog in an cut price AT-AT suit whilst a crack commando unit of three look on.

"Shite in mah big fish mooth!"

Obviously realizing he couldn't attract the fantastic Brooke Hogan back to the monster genre, Ray decided (wisely) to cut back on characterization and memorable dialogue and concentrate solely a motley collection bikini babes of various sizes and shapes either dancing to shit R and B, strutting their stuff on the sand like lobotomized Barbies or getting eaten by the shark.

Obviously the thinking behind this is that no red blooded male could fail to enjoy 80 odd minutes of 'gorgeous' girls in bikinis plus a big monster, which would be true if one of those bikini clad beauties was Unwell fave and monster fighter extraordinaire Corinne Nobili, who showed us how to properly fight monsters whilst being forced to wear a bikini should be worn in the 2012 classic Two Headed Shark Attack.

Which bizarrely enough was directed by Fred's son Christopher.

I'm getting a headache just thinking about it so here's a nice picture of Ms. Nobili to finish with.

Any excuse for a photo of Corinne Nobili.

I forgot to mention if it's worth the rental didn't I?

Well if you've made it this far I think you know the answer.