general franco.

I originally (re)reviewed this about 5 years back in the hope of getting a shiny BluRay copy off 88 Films when they re-released it but neither them - or any other bugger - bothered to read the review.

So here it is again.

You're welcome.

Devil Hunter (AKA Il Cacciatore di Uomini, Sexo Cannibal, Man Hunter, Mandingo Man Hunter. 1980).

Dir: Jess Franco.

Cast: Al Cliver, Burt Altman, Aline Mess, Ursula Buchfellner, Yul Sanders, Gisela Hahn, Werner Pochath, Antonio de Cabo, Melo Costa, Robert (not the one from The Black Hole) Foster and Muriel Montossé.

Primark's most popular leggings model, the Lego haired temptress Laura Crawford (ball faced former Playboy bunny and Sadomania star Buchfellner) has everything - the prettiest frocks to the hunkiest boyfriend and the largest collection of slingback court shoes known to man.

The only thing she doesn't have (apart from any discernible acting talent obviously) is the respect of her long suffering assistant - the brunette bombshell Jane (the terrifyingly tight arsed Hahn).

Suffice to say that Jane hates Laura's guts.

Not content with venting her frustrations the normal way (you know, like poohing in her bed or putting itching powder in her vest) the jealous witch hatches a frankly bonkers plan that involves getting Crawford abducted then legging it to Rio (or Saltcoats, whichever's cheaper) with the ransom money as soon as the world's fashion photographers/film producers pay up.

Or something.

Enlisting the help of her bad boy buddies - led by the Skeletor like Vietnam vet Thomas (actor and art director, Cabo from the classic Aberraciones sexuales de una mujer casada - no me neither), they decide to forgo the usual kidnapping conventions of hiding the victim in a convenient bed and breakfast (or even a car boot) and take her to a region of uncharted cannibal infested jungle and lock her in an old shed instead.

They've obviously not seen the aforementioned Cannibal Terror or they'd have some idea - however vague - of how this might pan out.

It's not long tho' before everyone involved is bored senseless with playing Twister and charades  - and scuffing their elbows on the walls - so reckon it'd be much more fun to tie Laura to a tree and touch her up a wee bit.

Could her day get any worse?

Umm.....maybe, because it appears that there's an honest to goodness scary monster living in the jungle.

And by scary monster I actually mean a big black man, stark bollock naked apart from a pair of pound shop googly eyed glasses.

No, really.

The Devil (Altman, who does whatever an Altman can allegedly) as he is known by the locals, spends his days wandering around the jungle shagging then eating - or is it the other way round? - any women he comes across.

And I mean that quite literally.

"Are you the farmer?"

The scarily sexy cannibal high priestess (Mess from Diamonds of Kilimandjaro where she appears alongside the yumsome Katja Bienert) keeps the horny devil's libido at bay by sacrificing various buxom ladies to him on a weekly basis in a ceremony that is as intricate and breast obsessed as it is unnecessarily long winded.

Firstly she hypnotizes the unwilling victims with a sweaty lap dance before dragging them naked to a secluded lagoon where even more naked ladies scrub them clean and tie them to a tree ready to be diddled with  - in glorious technicolour - by Altman.

Which is nice work if you can get it.

Laura’s producer pal Brian has no option but to mount a rescue attempt and to this end hires hunky mercenary (and all round love god) Peter Weston (the legend that is Cliver) and his big hipped, manbreasted Vietnam flashback obsessed sidekick Jack (Foster) to fly in and seal the deal.

As opposed to clubbing it to death obviously.

Having a limited running time tho' it's not long before the dynamic duo are facing off against the crazy kidnappers in a pitched gun battle, unaware that the horny Altman is slowly moving in for the kill.

Or at least a swift hand-job off Cliver - I mean, which hot blooded male wouldn't?

After an indeterminable amount of shootings, chasing and gratuitous arse shots our heroes end up lost in the jungle (or the local garden centre, take your pick) but luckily find a mysterious - and topless - 'girl on a yacht' (bird-faced beauty, singing sensation and regular Franco femme Montossé) who, after bouncing about on deck (and on Cliver) for a bit offers to help our heroes in their quest.

Hugh Quarshie was suitably impressed with the brand new Ronco Holly Willoughby doorbell.

Unfortunately for all concerned time is running out.

It appears that Altman has become bewitched by the blonde Laura and will stop at nothing in his quest to vigorously plant his rotten zombie seed inside her mysterious - and scarily overgrown - lady garden.

What follows promises to be an apocalyptic assault on the senses that will shred your nerves and possibly more than a few boxes of tissues.

Laugh now!

After a girlie tiff with top producer Erwin Dietrich, Franco fucked off to the jungle in a strop and decided to film this masterpiece alongside the classic Mondo Cannibale, hence the appearance of the same cast, locations, shirts and obviously Caucasian actors blacked up pretending to be cannibals etc.

But whereas that movie has at least some redeeming qualities in it's (unintentionally) funny performances, Devil Hunter is played dead straight (tho' I use the word 'played' loosely, most of the cast look too drunk to do anything other than hopefully hit there mark and mumble banal dialogue that'll be overdubbed at a later date).

Even the usually fantastic Cliver can't save this one, reduced as he is to sitting topless on a boat, his hairy nipples erect and his luxurious mustache swaying in the cool breeze as he tosses bottles into the dirty water surrounding him, all the time looking like a condemned man praying for salvation.

Which, if I'm honest even he manages to make look sexy.

What a guy.

Always the auteur, Franco - in his infinite wisdom - decided to waylay the horror and violence and instead fill the movie with spasmodic zooms towards Buchfellner and Mess's front bums, hoping that these would stun the viewers into submission and detract from the frightening amount of scenes showing an Altman's eye view of a myriad of naked women of varied degrees of attractiveness running thru' trees whilst screaming badly.

Which is a brave move by anyone's standards and whilst the thought of Franco following a variety of European non-actresses around, concentrating on their ample arses bouncing about as they go may sound appealing after a while it only achieves the effect of making the viewer feel slightly nauseous.

And filled with the urge to tuck into a massive sausage filled burger bun.

Erotic? racist? or just erotically racist?

Saying that, if you enjoy Franco's work (which frankly we all do) then you'll at least find something to enjoy.

If only Cliver's comedy 'tache and Buchfellner's fright fringe.

Which is two more recommendations than you'd get for Sadomaster.

hobly city.

It's comedy God Robin Askwith's birthday today, so what better way to celebrate than by revisiting his classic (and little seen by many folk who should know better) 1973 horror opus Horror Hospital?

Horror Hospital (AKA Computer Killers, Frankenstein's Horror-Klinik, 1973).
Dir: Anthony Balch.
Cast: Michael Gough, Robin Askwith, Vanessa Shaw, Ellen Pollock, Dennis Price, Kurt Christian, Barbara Wendy, Kenneth Benda and Skip Martin.

"Now make a clean job of it, Frederick, the car was washed this morning."

It's a grim, grey day in 1970s England, empty Smith's Crisps salt n' shake bags drift across an untidy bit of unkempt woodland as a couple of blood covered 'teens' fashionably decked in dirty, egg stained bandages run from an unseen assailant.

Or from someone attempting to wash their hair.

Meanwhile perched on a nearby hill snug in his shiny Rolls-Royce is the enigmatic (re: camp as pink pants) Dr. Christian Storm (the late, great Gough dressed as your nan) and his delightful dwarf assistant Frederick (genre stalwart and one time owner of Yorkshire's best stocked tobacconist Martin).

But why?

Are they dogging?

Taking in the scenery?

Or just taking it generally?

I mean I can never tell these days.

Noticing the car our dirty duo attempt to run for the hills  but as the Rolls-Royce approaches, huge plastic blades extend from the bodywork and slice off the unfortunate couples heads.

Which means they were either very short or the car is very tall.

"That’ll teach them to try and run away from us," says Frederick in a voice that suggests that the disc must be running at the wrong speed, pushing the heads into a Sainsbury's bag for life as he goes.

Cue the titles and a blast of the DeWolf library music used in Dawn of The Dead.

Which is fairly disconcerting if I'm honest.

"Oi Dom, are you sure this is the quickest way to Barnard Castle?"

Leaving Grimsville for swinging London, we soon come across (which makes a nice change seeing as it's usually him doing the coming) an angry young man with a lion's mane of hair, the sexy songwriter Jason (The great god that is Sir Robin of Askwith) who's decided to spend his evening drunkenly shouting (fairly) homophobic abuse at top prog-rock band Mystic (or are they actually just a mystic prog-rock band?) in revenge for them stealing one of his songs.

But not this one.

Unfortunately (for Jason) the 'silly red faggot' of a lead singer is actually hard as nails, answering the heckles by giving Jason a bloody good kicking.

Now even angrier and with a bloody nose to boot, Jason decides what he really needs is a break and noticing a flyer for Hairy Holidays - Sun and Fun For The Under 30s, decides to book one the very next day.

Visiting the local travel agency - run as it happens by the enigmatic Mr Jackson Pollack (an incredibly, ahem,  merry Pryce) - Jason excitedly rummages thru' the brochures for anything that tickles his fancy.

Jackson tho', being a totally non clichéd predatory old homosexualist is more interested in eyeing up our blond babe-magnets trouser area than sorting out a suitable break but after realizing he's backing a loser - as opposed to backing slowly yet steadily on his engorged member - in Jason, he packs our hero off to the world famous (it says here) Doctor Storm’s well-being clinic in the aforementioned Grimsville (see how it's all coming together? clever eh?) for a week of drizzle, grey skies and school dinners.

Being integral to the plot Jason agrees and is soon traveling to the clinic via some grainy British Rail stock footage.

It's not all bad weather and bad fashions tho',  as during the journey Jason meets up with the fantastically thighed Judy (button nosed beauty Shaw in her only starring role, tho' she does a great dance in the 1969 Yul Brynner thriller The File of the Golden Goose) and, after announcing that he isn't going to rape her, settles down to a nice chat and a chunk of cheese.

Chatting up 'the burds' was so much simpler in the 70s.

Judy explains that she’s going to the clinic to visit her Aunt Harris (a fantastically thin lipped performance from stage star Pollock) who originally ran a brothel in Holland but is now her sole relative.

No idea why or how these things are connected but there you go.

It seems that poor Judy was conceived out of wedlock causing her mother and aunt to fall out.

But the creepiest revelation is yet to come as it appears that Harris isn't even her aunts real name, yup she actually gets called that due of her love for Harris tweed.

No, really.

A pair of smooth Lilly white knees yesterday. No I'm not obsessed.

Anyway, arriving at Grimsville railway station (it's the stop just after Little Rimming and just before Cleft) they're greeted by a morose station master by the name of Linda Carter (the amusingly monickered Benda, best known as the minister in the Pertwee Who classic The Claws of Axos) who begrudgingly gives them directions to the clinic.

Halfway up the bumpy country road tho' it begins to rain but luckily two motorbikes bearing the number plates Storm 1 and Storm 2 - and complete with black, leather-clad riders - arrive to carry the delectable duo the rest of the way.

Greeted at the front door by a bemused (or is that just drunk?) Frederick, Jason and Judy are ushered along to the front desk where Aunt Harris issues the pair with a key to the only room available.

You can almost smell Jason's joy at this news.

And my jealousy obviously.

Introductions out of the way and it's back to more time consuming filler material as Frederick slowly takes them upstairs (ooeerr) with the haunted look of a man trying to remember his lines.

Cut to an open door and a blood soaked bed.

And an uncomfortably long silence before our tiny chum mutters "Nothing to worry about here, I mean we all have our little accidents, you know."

Which is fair enough I suppose.

"It's my anti-mooth shite-in helmet!"

So far we've had gruesome gore, groovy tunes and some top comedy turns.

Unfortunately there's been no nudity so it's lucky for us that the shapely Judy has decided to take an incredibly soapy shower.

But before you can make a grab for the pause button on the remote control, Jason appears clad in only a pair of  Y fronts and a knight’s helmet.

Despite all this cringe inducing helmet based malarkey (or maybe, shudder, because of it) Jason does, in fact get to have 'the sex' with a still visibly wet Judy.

First Liz Fraser then Linda Bellingham and now the voluptuous Vanessa Shaw.

How can us mere mortals ever compete?

"Is it in yet?"

Feeling a wee bit peckish after such hot lovin' the couple head down for dinner where Aunt Harris seats them at a huge table alongside about a dozen bowl haired, bright blue 'teens' resplendent with plastic scars stuck haphazardly to their brows.

"These are our advanced students". explains a helpful Harris. "Don't worry about the dribbling and farting, they won’t speak properly until they've been totally cured."

Before Jason can ask what the fuck she's on about the only other girl at the table, a Ms. Millie Peed (the Erika Blanc alike Wendy from Sex and the Other Woman) starts screaming (badly) before being carried out by a couple of bikers.

Five fingers - never touched the sides. The Matt Hancock lookalike failed to win any fans at the orphanage Christmas party.

Deciding to skip dessert, Judy and Jason he upstairs to retire to bed (and maybe a bit more sexiness) but any amorous thoughts are soon shattered when the tap starts gushing blood.

Judy screams as the door opens finally revealing the wheelchair bound form of Doctor Christian Storm, MD, BSc, RAC and Tufty Club member no. 465.

It seems he's made a special effort to come and meet his associates niece but can hardly disguise the anger he feels for poor Frederick who, it seems has not only stashed a couple of rotting heads in the cold water tank but he's also failed to post a letter to Judy telling her to stay at home.

"Women can be terribly troublesome, but then so can little men!" he creepily informs Jason just before he slaps Frederick in the face with his riding crop.

And with that he squeakily leaves the room.

Michael Gough: Tunnel or funnel?

As night descends upon Storm Manor Jason decides to go and explore leaving Judy alone in bed.

But not for long tho' as she's soon up and about giving it her best Nancy Drew impression, until that is she stumbles across a dormitory full of lobotomized youngsters clad only in greying Marks and Spencer vest and pants combo's.

Escaping this underwear nightmare our screaming sex kitten is suddenly overcome by what appears to be a man made from Plasticine skulking about in a corridor.

Hearing her screams, Jason jumps to the rescue but is soon overpowered by those shiny helmeted leather boys from earlier.

Your nan's cum face. Trust me, I should know.

Obviously there's not enough plot going on at the moment so let's welcome back the sleazy Mr. Pollack who turns up out of the blue in an attempt to blackmail Storm for more cash and a pair of Jason's undies.

Dirty man.

Unfortunately our bum fun loving chum finds himself on the wrong end of the blade wielding Rolls Royce (actually it's the right end if you think about it) adding not only a new meaning to the phrase 'giving head' but also giving Jason the rudest awakening he's had since he did Linda Bellingham in a sandpit.

His only choice now?

To grab little Frederick and attempt to pump him for information.

The Price is right.

Luckily (for both Fred and viewers of a nervous disposition) Doctor Storm arrives in the nick of time with the offer of showing Jason his army of lobotomized muscle men in the gym.

Homo-erotic subtext anyone?

That's not all tho' as within minutes of unveiling his creations, Storm is proving their might by punching them in the stomach as they do star jumps and making them do back flips by remote control.

Jason, no doubt feeling confused by all the male flesh on show makes a break for the woods followed by two of Storm's biker gang, a very slow fight ensues, ending when one of the leather boys falls into a convenient swamp.

Must admit I never saw that coming.

A wee bit like our hero who manages to not hear two more leatherette’s  squeaking up behind him ready to administer a fucking good kicking.

Confessions of a dangerous mind.

If getting beaten up by two members of The Village People wasn't enough of an indignity, Jason is thrown into the cellar and gassed to sleep, giving us the chance to see a recap of what's happened so far.

Which is very considerate of the producers if you think about it.

Meanwhile back in the main plot, Storm is sticking a kebab stick into the skull of one of his patients, trying not to be too upset that Aunt Harris has decided to go back to running a brothel.

You never get this kinda stuff on The Archers.

Realizing that there is in fact a distinct lack of bona fide male tottie on screen (as much as he tries Askwith can't manage alone), the producers introduce us to a funky young traveler named Abraham (Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger's Christian) who, by the way he's walking has sold more than his soul to be in this movie.

It appears that our exotic pal is looking for his girlfriend Millie (you remember) but before he even has a chance to flutter his cow-like eyelashes at Harris the poor sod is taken from behind and thrown into the cellar alongside a slowly recovering Jason.

"excuse me...I have a women's period".

Tired of seeing so many young men beaten off by Storm's henchmen, Aunt Harris goes back to packing her collection of market stall dildos and Russian dolls but is rudely interrupted by the plasticine man who appears to rub her face to death, whilst back in the cellar Abraham is explaining his character motivation to Jason.

Clicking seamlessly into Shatner mode - but without the hatred of Autistic folk obviously - Jason deduces that their only hope of escape is if Frederick has had a change of heart and decided to become a good guy.

Which, bizarrely enough is exactly what happens because at that very moment our pint sized pal is busy cooking our heroes some hearty porridge whilst spiking the guards’ Limeade.

Cue scenes of knockabout comedy gold that'd shame David Lynch as lil' Fred has to drag the comatose guards around before piling them up so he can reach the door handle, totally ignoring the handy bucket on the wall right next to him.

Escaping the cellar our buff boys (and Frederick) race to the gym to free Jenny (hands up if you'd forgotten about her too) only to bump into Doctor Storm (again) who appears to have been sitting there all night waiting patiently for our heroes to turn up so he can explain his motivation to them.

Nah....that'd be too silly even for this film.

Wouldn't it?

Cue even more flashbacks only this time they're in order to give us a wee bit of background on the doc.

She might look uncomfortable now but just you wait till the Karaoke starts.

Surprisingly he wasn't always a camp cripple but used to be a handsome womanizer with the dress sense of Peter Wyngarde, the hair of Martin Fry and a pair of working legs.

Tutored by Pavlov (but not alas his dog) and employed by Stalin, Storm soon became obsessed with the idea of raising an army of remote controlled circus performers and gymnasts in order to entertain - then maybe even take over - the world.

As one would.

Unfortunately a passing gypsy accidentally burned his laboratory down forcing him to move to the UK.

Illegally.

UKiP would have a field day.

Actually they probably wouldn't care because he's white.

Tho' he does sound a wee bit Polish so maybe they would.

But I digress.

Unimpressed with all this mindless small-talk and random footage of an ugly couple attempting to fuck in a kiddies sandpit Storm orders his men to give Jason and Abraham another kicking before locking them up, this time alongside Frederick.

That's the look, that's the look, the look of love.

But our by now terrific threesome, bored with the constant running away, getting captured and frightful beatings, reckon that enough is enough and decide that this time they're gonna fuck some shit up.

But first they need to escape.

If only they could find someone small enough to crawl out of the window, crawl along the ledge, climb in thru' the catflap, beat the guard and let them out.

All eyes on Frederick then.

Again.

Believe it or not he does indeed make his way thru' the window, round the ledge and back in the catflap, even beatings the pesky guard to death with an axe before freeing the boys.

His heroism is short lived (as well as short arsed) for no sooner have they started down the stairs when a sneaky leather guy throws the poor little sod over the balcony to his doom.

One Direction...and we all know where that is.

After rescuing Judy from the operating table, Jason and Abraham set out to find Millie but alas it's too late to save her seeing as whilst all this fighting and escaping has been going on the poor girl has been totally brainwashed by Storm.

And if that wasn't enough the pervy plasticine man from earlier has just sneaked into her room and fucked her to death before making his escape out of a window just as Jason and Abraham burst in.


But he's left something behind.

Lying on the bed covered in egg, sweat and semen stains is the remains of Doctor Storms full body latex suit.

Turns out he burned more than his fingers during the lab fire.

Abraham obviously upset by the fact that his girlfriend has been murdered starts to smash stuff, stopping only to piss in the doctor's filing cabinets and torching the place before getting chased away by the remaining staff.

Stealing the Rolls Royce Jason gives chase to the doctor, hoping at last for a wee taste of revenge...

Or at least a cheeky squeeze of his Playdoh-like man boobs.

After years in the cinematic wilderness, the release of Horror Hospital on shiny Bluray (quite) a few years back means that this lost gem from a talent hardly mentioned in serious film tomes will - hopefully - and deservedly take it's place in the annals of classic British Horror.

Quite possibly the first post-modern horror movie ever made, coming across as it does like Acorn Antiques directed by Sam Raimi or Casualty produced by David Cronenberg.

Yes it's that good.

Made at a time when British horror was floundering as it tried to match it's American counterparts after years of Hammer house based costume chills Horror Hospital perfectly encapsulating everything that's great about the genre at the time.

I mean what other country would counter the fearsome sight of Leatherface wielding a chainsaw with doddery old dear Sheila Keith brandishing a Woolworth's bought Black and Decker drill as the legendary Pete Walker did in Frightmare?

It's just a pity that unlike Walker, director Anthony Balch never became a household horror name.

Well apart from in our house anyway.

And for those of you scratching your collective heads here's a wee bit of background info on the great man.

But not too much obviously I mean you're not reading Sight And Sound.

Well if you're on this blog chances are you're struggling with the words and just looking at the pictures.

Anyway, a legend within the industry, Balch was well known for snapping up European arthouse and exploitation movies at cut down prices before re-releasing them in the UK with sexed up new titles.

What a guy.

Häxan: a load of old arse.

If that wasn't enough he was also the man behind the infamous sound version of Benjamin Christensen's brilliantly batshit documentary Häxan: Witchcraft Through the Ages (1922), getting his old pal, the drug, lemur and arse obsessed genius William S. Burroughs (with whom he made two short movies in the early 60's) to write and record the commentary.

Suffice to say it's well worth finding a copy of.

Unfortunately Balch only ever completed two full length features in his career.

But luckily for us film aficionados the other one was the frankly bonkers Secrets of Sex (AKA Bizarre, 1970).

But it's Horror Hospital, unloved for years by all but the chosen few that shows what a loss not just to the horror genre but to cinema in general that Anthony Balch's death (and laziness when it came to making films) was.

Secrets of Sex: She's got something to put in you.

The movie has everything, from dwarves to death dealing melted cheese men via the casting of soft core comedy king Askwith in the role of a hero, coming across for all the world like a proto-Bruce Campbell from The Evil Dead saga.

More famous for his comedy turns that his horror heroics Askwith is a revelation as the put upon Jason and it's a pity he only made three excursions into horror.

Tho' the fact that the other two were the brilliant Tower of Evil and Pete Walker's classic Flesh And Blood Show (both alongside the sublime Candace Glendenning) should be enough for anyones CV.

I mean it's three more than I've starred in. 

I like to think that in some bizarro other dimension the movie was such a huge hit that an entire series sprung up around the character of Jason as he travels the country (and Europe - stock footage permitting) uncovering various vile plots and mad doctors as he attempts to enjoy a well deserved holiday, each time his vacation is interrupted by more outlandish monsters and dishy dolly birds.

As horror fans we were robbed.

But at least we have Horror Hospital to allow us to imagine what could have been.

Running the gamut from bloody body horror to out and out comedy caper without even stopping for breath whilst wearing it's ever more surreal plot and smartly self aware performances like a bold and shiny badge of honour this is everything Nicolas Winding Refn has ever wanted to achieve.

And so much more beside.

Burroughs: more cock than your sister.

One of the greatest British horror movies ever made?

Definitely.

One of the greatest films ever made?

Most certainly.

And if you don’t believe me, try it for yourself.

You'll soon come round to Doctor Storm's way of thinking.

              


  

rat scabies.

Day 11 of this whole 31 Days of Horror debacle and it's time for less monster muttering and more Bruno Mattei...

 


Rats: Notte Di Terrore (AKA Blood Kill, Les Rats de Manhattan, Rats: Night of Terror 1984).
Dir: Bruno Mattei.
Cast: Richard Raymond, Alex McBride, Richard Cross, Moune Duvivier, Henry Luciani, Cristoph Bretner, Ann-Gisel Glass, Cindy Leadbetter, and the fantastic Geretta Geretta.

It is the year 225 A.B. (the A.B. stands for either after the bomb, after Brexit or absolute bollocks, take yer pick.) and the world as we know it has gone forever.


Nuclear war has indeed decimated our beloved planet Earth.

Well, a bit of it just outside Rome at least.

And maybe Dudley.

No real loss then.

Luckily humanity survived by retreating underground to wait out the ecological crisis that undoubtedly followed.

Tho' we wont get to see that because it'd be way too expensive.

Unfortunately an argument over whose turn it was to wash up causes a major split amongst the survivors, forcing a small band to return to the planet's surface to live as 'scavengers', roaming the barren wasteland like a community centre panto version of Mad Max, searching for food, fuel, Fairy liquid (those dishes wont do themselves) and - from the look of them - an 80's Top Shop to stock up on legwarmers, day-glo eyeshadow and zippered, rising sun t-shirts.

The others must have just stayed inside watching reruns of Groundforce or something.

Kurt: queer as folk.

One particular group of these junior road warriors led by the bouffanted, bleached and bearded Kurt (stuntman turned actor Raymond looking for the whole world like an aborted Gibb brother) stumble across an abandoned town (although how you can stumble across a town escapes me) and, after a quick nosy about the immediate area - being careful not to stray too far off the backlot - immediately enter what looks like a cheap Eurohostel in search of food and water.

What they actually find inside is beyond their wildest dreams; boxes of fresh food, some porn, boxes of tissues, a big water purifier in the basement and a hydroponic nursery.

Shelter, food, fresh water  and top shelf wanking material - everything they need to survive.

Cue a few scenes of slightly uncomfortable food-porn that includes a scruffy middle aged beardie man pouring sugar into his mouth and eyes exclaiming "Sugar!" and Kurt munching a bag of flour shouting "Yum! flour!" before emptying the rest of the bag over the exquisite Chocolate (horror goddess, all round superstar and actual friend of this blog Geretta Geretta).

A scene it must be said worth rewatching just to admire possibly the worlds greatest genre actress (and part-time Amazon) in action.

Jenny Spoon, the token skinny blonde of the group, bored with watching her pals play hide the sausage (literally) notices that a freshly laundered bed in the corner of the hi-tech dining room is mysteriously moving and heads over to investigate.

Tho' I'd be more concerned with why someone would pop a bed in their dining room if I'm honest.

Slowly easing her way toward the sheets with her dirty, shaking skeletal fingers stretched out like someone's Nan attempting a birthday hand job, she's surprised to find that beneath the clean, and soft Postman Pat blankets lies a putrefying corpse.

With dozens of rats gnawing at the bones!

Yikes.

Billie Piper, up the casino, 1998...yesch!

 

Now, just put yourself in their shoes for a second...what do you think is the most terrifying thing about this scenario? 

The half chewed body in the bed or the fact that it appears that the rats must of attacked this man as he slept, then pulled the covers up and made the bed in an attempt to play an hilarious Jeremy Beadle style prank on the next people to turn up?


Ignoring all of this tho' and deciding just to chalk it up to experience, our motley crew decide to explore the buildings computer room to see if the internet is still working giving them a chance to download some cheerleader porn before bed.

It's great to know that even after a nuclear holocaust that people still get their priorities right.

Anyway, before indulging in a good nights kip (not a night of terror- with rats - we hope)  the criminally camp technology egghead Vic Video (Il capo dei capi's Gianni Franco AKA Richard Cross) lives up to his moniker by finding the buildings light switches.

After first accidentally starting an 'eliminate intruders' program obviously.

And with that the group settle down to bed.

As the air is filled with the dulcet sounds of snores and farts, ball headed bad boy Barry Lucifer (star of the hit teevee series Cas de divorce's Bretner) and his scarily googly eyed girlfriend Lilith (Duvivier), overcome with passion start having 'the sex' in a cosy double sleeping bag in the corner.

And they say romance is dead.

Luckily for all the folk actually trying to sleep (and for us if I'm honest) the zip in the bag sticks before Lucifer (as he so romantically puts it) can "blast off baby!" leaving the horny devil to stomp off to the bar to drown his sorrows.

And no doubt choke his chicken. 

By that I mean masturbate furiously not actually kill a bird I mean it's not Ruggero Deodato directing.

"Is it in yet?"

Coming across (not literally mind) Video, Jeff and Spoon getting slowly drunk on Meths in the corner, Lucifer opens his heart to his pals who promptly take the absolute piss out of him for getting stuck in a bag (the sleeping variety not Lilith) causing him to stomp off leaving his buddies crying with tears of laughter and shame and his lanky lady alone in the aforementioned broken zipped bag.

A bag that she can't get out of....remember this, it may be important later.

Stumbling about with a bottle of cheap booze and a Pot Noodle shouting "You're my best mate" at various tables, Lucifer fails to notice the army of red eyed rats slowly approaching him whilst  Lilith, drifting into sleep in another room is oblivious to the single rat (obviously the only one not terrified by her teeth) slowly gnawing its way into her sleeping bag.

A sleeping bag that will soon become her tomb.

Of death.

Funnel or tunnel?

Lucifer meanwhile is still boozing away and shouting at random objects when he comically falls down an open manhole whilst trying to avoid a banana skin and as he tries in vain to hoist himself up is suddenly jumped on by hundreds of hungry rats intent on stealing his wallet.
 
Kurt and company startled awake by cries of "Aaarrrghhh! rats!" are even more surprised to find Lilith lying stiff as a board in her sleeping bag.

Surmising that Lucifer must have strangled her at the height of passion our merry mentalists decide to find him and hopefully the truth regarding lanky Lil's death.

But as they're about to leave, Lilith's body begins to convulse and shake (pretty much like my Auntie when she had a stroke, just not as arousing) as a rat suddenly emerges from her mouth!

"Maybe it wasn't Lucifer after all" Chocolate guesses.

No shit.

Rat in mah mooth!

Finding all this rodent based carnage a bit much to deal with this early in the morning, the gang decide to head for the bikes and get the hell out of Dodge (as they say) only to find that the rats have scoffed all the tires.

This leaves Kurt in a difficult position.
 
Do they:
 
A. Leave/carry the bikes and run away from town and from the killer rats?
 
B. Go back into the (killer rat infested) building, board themselves in (with the rats) and wait till morning to leave (when the rats are asleep obviously)?

Yup they decide to leg it out of town.

No not really, they actually go back inside and hurriedly board up every window.

Save for the one the rats will no doubt attack thru' later of course. 

One by one the gang are outsmarted by the rats, the older Chuck Norris/George Eastman alike is attacked in the hydroponics (painful), one gets a few wee bites and has a flamethrower taken to him - which is a bit extreme if you take a moment to think about it - and the blonde bombshell Diane (Cindy Leadbetter, former Italian Playboy Playmate of the month - September 1978 but better known around here for her portrayal as the mad patient who gets diddled by Laura Gemser in Emanuelle E Gli Ultimi Cannibali) gets nibbled on whilst standing at that unsealed window (doh) and goes a wee bit potty.

Diane: Nice flat stomach, face of f*ckness.

As if the night (of terror) couldn't get any worse, sweaty pudding headed chubster Duke (Erotic Games star Luciani) has decided that he wants to take control of what's left of the gang, pushing his chest out and scowling "I could do that better! You Smell!" etc. in Kurt's general direction at the most inopportune of moments. 

"It's CCCCHHHRRRIIISSSTTTMMMAAASSS!!!"

This testosterone fueled angriness and general unpleasant behavior culminates in him kidnapping permanently slack jawed Myrna (Ann-Gisel Glass, now a major French TV star who surprisingly doesn't actually list this movie on her agents website and denies all knowledge of it if you send her the DVD to get signed) before threating to steal the groups one remaining vehicle. 

It wont come as too much of a surprise to anyone watching that the car in question is full of rats so Duke calmly decides to clear them out by dropping a hand grenade on them.

Fair enough it kills all the rats but unfortunately also kills himself and Myrna instantly. 

If not sooner,  proving his leadership skills weren't up to much after all.

Whilst all this drama is going down, Diane has decided to wander off in a sulk after catching sight of the woeful make up job she has and after screaming "I wont let you eat me!" (which raised a snigger here at least) slashes her wrists.

She's not really thought this thru' tho' as no doubt the rats will probably still gobble her up anyway, it's not like they're fussy eaters.

It's about now that Kurt's manly visage begins to slip as he disintegrates into a blubbing mess, shooting randomly at Diane's body ("She was covered in those beasts!") before sobbing like a big girl. 

Now it's down to Chocolate, a bald man whose name escapes me and Video to save the day.

Frankly I reckon they're screwed.

"I can see your house from here Peter!"

Unluckily for Kurt (but lucky for the poor sods having to carry him) he gets squashed by a large cardboard door within a few minutes of his great emoting scene.

If that wasn't embarrassing enough tho' it's only the wee baldy man who can be bothered to even try and rescue him, meaning the pair get eaten by rats whilst lying in a sweaty, shit covered mess.

Faced with so much carnage, Chocolate (still looking gorgeous by the way) and the bubble permed Video decide the best course of action is to run away screaming before hiding inside a few handy boxes.

But these rats are smart enough not to be confused by such a cunning disguise and licking their ickle thin lips edge closer and closer to our desperate duo.

Chocolate has heard rumors that they'll eat her whole but Video is pretty sure that they'll spit that bit out.

Suddenly as if by magic a group of strange bio-suited figures appear from the sewers and by using what appears to be Baby Bio sprays manage to kill the all rats.

Phew.

But who are these mysterious strangers? 

Are they friend or foe? 

Are they even human?

Or could they possibly be giant rat people in yellow jumpsuits?

I'll let you guess, all I'm saying is that it's great that Kevin the Gerbil's career continued after ITV canceled Rat on The Road.

 Spoiler warning: this picture may
give clues to the films shock ending.

It takes a special kind of person to even consider mixing such diverse influences as Mad Max, The Muppet Movie and Willard, let alone to actually go ahead and make such an entertaining movie out of them.

 

And for this reason we must praise the late lamented genius that was Bruno Mattei. 

I mean what can you possibly say about such a heady brew of action, gore, leather trousers, beards and nudity seamlessly mixed with stunning effects (the rat army is a hand drawn conveyor belt with dozens of dogs squeaky mouse toys glued to it) helped along by  top notch dialogue and topped off with a frankly fantastically farty Eurohorror synth score?

Plus it features the magnificent Geretta Geretta (in case you'd forgotten) decked out in cool combat gear and cradling a huge gun.

C'mon, what's not to love?

They should teach Mattei in film school.

But then they'd have to point out that his Jaws 'homage' Cruel Jaws was shite tho'.

Swings and roundabouts really.

hang the deejay.

What 31 Days of Horror would be complete without at least one David Warbeck movie?

Pity then that it's this one.

Only joking.

Or am I?

Panic (AKA Bakterion, Zombi 4. 1982).
Dir: Tonino Ricci (as Anthony Richmond tho' to be honest I'd change my name if I directed this).
Cast: David Warbeck, Janet Agren, Roberto Ricci, José Lifante, Miguel Herrera Eugenio Benito, Ovidio Taito, José María Labernié, Ilaria Maria Bianchi
Fabián Conde, Vittorio Calò and Franco Ressel.

Something has gone terribly wrong at the local chemical factory -  eminent science Professor Gerry Adams (Ricci, son of Christina) has accidentally infected himself with something or other which has turned him bright green and lumpy with a thirst for human blood.

Oh and more importantly (and amusingly) it's also turned his teeth into Pez.

Escaping from the building and into the sewers it's left to the company president  Mr. Milton Bradley (Ressel) to come up with a cover story whilst attempting to discover the whereabouts of the missing scientist before the press find out.

Calling on Adams' associates - Dr. Jane Blake (Eurotrash stalwart Agren) and Dr. Vince Clarke (Miguel Herrera) for help he's shocked to discover that Adams, instead of testing shampoo on horses and making beagles smoke like he was hired to do had been secretly working on a vaccine for gout (or was it bunions?) and had kept all the data pertaining to his work hidden.

Tho' beware as the reason for his actual research may change later if and when the plot requires it.

Don't engage in phone sex with strange men....you may get hearing aids.

As the trio umm and aah over what to do the by now muchly mutated mental medicine man is busying himself tearing various extras limb from limb, starting with a young couple having uncomfortable fake sex in a Morris Minor.

Quickly arriving at the crime scene local policeman Sergeant Richard O'Brien (little mouthed Lifante from Let Sleeping Corpses Lie) soon realizes that he's out of his depth so calls on MI6's top agent Captain Kirk - yes really - to help.

Kirk (Warbeck....hide yourself) enlists Jane to not only help him find Adams but more importantly so he has someone to fire flirty banter at and the pair head over to the scientists house to look for him.

No idea why no-one else had thought to do that but there you go.

There's no sign of the scientist but it's not a total wash out as they do find his man 'friend' strung up in the fireplace covered in blood and green goo, which is nice tho' to be honest I did originally think it was just facepaint that had accidentally wiped off the monster during a cut fight scene.

And I'm pretty sure Warbeck thought that too.

Body on mah bonnet!

Performing an autopsy on the body Jane discovers something unusual is happening to its cellular structure but  to explain this would take up precious time where the mental mutant could be pawing at naked women so instead we quickly cut to a suburban house where a particularly harsh faced and hairy armpitted cockernee woman is about to have a shower.

The mutant - attracted by the overpowering smell of boiled onions -  sneaks in and kills her.

But not before we've had ample opportunity to stare at her breasts and lady garden obviously.

Examining the body our heroes realize that each of the victims are covered in radiation burns and green paint with nearly all the blood drained from their bodies.

Which is probably important tho' by the way it's glossed over you wouldn't think so.

is it in yet?

Bored with all this skulking around in shite and killing random women Adams decides to spend the evening watching a movie and so to this end turns up at the local cinema.

Via the sewers obviously.

Unfortunately having a face like a half-chewed caramel causes panic amongst the cinema-goers, especially busty bombshell - or is that busted bombsite? - Agnes (who it must be said looks uncannily like a young Helen Mirren, albeit one that looks like she's been taking crack daily for about 5 years but hey beggars can't be choosers), who after letting her boyfriend Clive have a wee fanny fiddle is feeling a little peckish.

Not feeling a little pecker which after this sparkling exchange I assume she'll be doing later:


Agnes: "That's just to begin with....If you want the rest you'll have to earn it."

Clive: "Now what do you want?"

Agnes: "One of those huge ice-cream cones from the jumbo bar."

Clive: "But it's too far away. It'll take me ages."

Agnes: "Don't be silly, it's just down the street and it's worth it because I'm going to thank you in a special way."

Clive: "You promise?"

Seriously, this actually happens.

Take a few minutes to let it sink in.

Anyway Adams goes straight after Agnes and strangles her before popping her over his shoulder and taking her backstage for a wee nibble on her neck.

Please note he may be a mental mutant but he's not mad enough to go anywhere near her pock-ridden fanny.

It's a wonder Clive has any fingers left.

And that he never found the car keys.

"I can see your house from here Peter!"

Still feeling peckish but with the police in hot pursuit Adams heads off to the local church where the priest is busy dishing out sweets to the young boys in the choir.

Talking of buggery it's not long before Adams is banging on the doors trying to get in forcing the petrified priest to force the boys into a hole (which makes a change from his usual pastime of forcing himself into their holes) as he vainly beats off the beast with a standing lamp.

You'll not be too surprised to find out that he dies.

Tho' luckily we're spared the sight of his (man) breasts as it appears only ladies get naked in this film.

As a trade-off tho' in the next scene Warbeck is wearing a pair of trousers so obscenely tight that you can see what he had for dinner.

I think him and Jane were having a serious conversation about Adams' work and how he was creating some new germ warfare shite but I'll be honest and admit that the trousers were so form-fitting that I couldn't concentrate on anything except the fact that he appeared to have a baby secreted in his left hand trouser pocket.

A baby with a massive head.

And a spine.

I need a shower now.

Anyway back in London the (obviously Tory) government have decided to send the army (all wearing berets with bobbles on top for some obscure reason) to quarantine the town, setting up roadblocks and disabling all the phones and TVs.

This scene is made all the more surreal by the fact that although the film is set in the UK the footage of the army driving down the street is obviously filmed in a Spanish seaside resort full as it is with palm trees and mountainous backgrounds.

Every so often tho' it cuts to a council estate wifey kicking a phonebox of a garden shed in the hope of convincing us that we're watching a small English town being overrun by soldiers.

Well at least they tried.

Just not very fucking hard obviously.

"Don't tell him Pike!"

The lack of TV coupled with the green shite covering everything begins to rile the locals who decide to storm the barricades and start rioting but this is soon brought under control when the army shoot up a Fiat 500 whilst shouting "Go home" thru' a megaphone.

If only real-life were this simple.

Milton (remember him?) worried about his family being stranded alongside the plebs phones his friend in Westminster only to discover the real reason for the quarantine.

It appears that Whitehall aren't convinced that the army will find Adams before he infects the whole town so have decided to authorize "Plan Q," which involves dropping a bomb on the town.

It's a good job the film isn't set in the West Midlands then because if you bombed that place no-one would notice.

Especially Tipton, a town so grim even the seagulls refuse to shit on it.

Tipton: Utter wank.

As the clock counts down to zero hour Jane and Vince (yup he's still here) attempt to find an antidote, O'Brien and Kirk take to the sewers in the hope of finding (and killing) Adams before it's too late...

Fuck, marry, kill?

Playing out like a (care in the) community version of Romero's The Crazies - or in this case The Crazy - crossed with Frankenstein (albeit one with featuring a monster with a potato for a head) via the genius of Nightmare City, Tonino Ricci's Panic is a threadbare, poundshop production marred by a lack of logic, budget or common sense that's held together purely by the presence of the late great David Warbeck and his spray on trousers ably aided by Janet Agren with a home perm and sensible slacks alongside the frighteningly ferrety José Lifante dressed for all the world like Prince Charming in a particularly shoddy school panto.

And whilst they leads may have gotten the short straw costume wise at least they get to wear clothes unlike the poor sods playing the beasts victims expected as they are to strip nude at a moments notice to allow the camera to linger over their harshly lit tits before being dispatched by a spud-faced freak dribbling poster paint everywhere. 

The things your mum had to do to pay the bills when you were growing up eh?

Laugh now!

Directed (if you can call it that) in a workman-like (as in he spent all day leaning on a spade wolf-whistling ladies) way by Tonino Ricci, the name behind the arse-numbing Thor the Conqueror amongst other classics - probably - Panic scarily enough was scripted by Victor Andres Catena alongside Jaime Comas Gil (who believe it or not wrote A Fistful Of Dollars) which makes me think that they were either having a bad day or someone did a wee bit of script editing before shooting seeing as entire plot points are left unresolved or ignored - the escaped guinea pig that may grow to the size of a dog, the fact that Adam's is contagious - as Ricci races thru' the threadbare story in order to maximize the amount of nudity on screen as he valiantly attempts to convince us that the entire thing (and not just the second unit stuff) has been shot in dear old blighty by getting Blur and Dick Van Dyke to dub the actors.

It's a pity then that the only Englishman in the cast is dubbed by an American.

Tho' it can't have been too much of a chore for Warbeck seeing as he appears to have gone on holiday for a fortnight halfway thru' turning up as he does around the 50 minute mark with sunburn and a new coat.

Which let's be honest is a fuck load more than we get for sitting thru' it. 

Still it's worth a watch for Warbeck tho.

And for this closing caption obviously:

Utter shit but in a good way and you can't say fairer than that.