the ellen degenerazione show.

Bit of a rush job today seeing as I was out watching John Carpenter last night (as in I was at his concert, I wasn't stalking him or anything) and been out for lunch today in a kinda socialising/grown up way.

Plus not too in-depth a review I'm afraid cos frankly most of the stories only last a few seconds, all are bonkers and most are really not that good.

On a plus side Asia (the first person to wish me happy birthday on Facebook two years ago don't you know) Argento is in it smoking a fag whilst wearing fishnets so it's not all bad.
Enjoy!

Degenerazione (1994).
Dir: Antonio Antonelli, Asia Argento, Pier Giorgio Bellocchio, Eleonora Fiorini, Alex Infascelli, Antonio Manetti, Marco Manetti, Andrea Maula, Andrea Prandstraller, Alberto Taraglio and Alessandro Valori.
Cast: Pierpaolo Trezzini, Asia Argento, Giorgio Tirabassi, Alberto Rossi and Patrizia Sacchi.

Our (well their - as in the directors - story, it's not really ours that's just a figure of speech) story opens in the movie memorabilia festooned office of a sweating bald man in an ill fitting suit anxiously chatting to someone (his agent? Your mum?) on the phone about various important film type stuff whilst he furtively looks around for any signs of oncoming badness.

So far so intriguing.

Suddenly the aforementioned oncoming badness bursts in to the room in the form of three pikeys clad in ill-fitting Halloween masks and a nice selection of Degenerazione t-shirts as some kick-ass 'rawk' music plays on the soundtrack.

Yup, definitely an Italian horror movie then.

Jumping from his window to save himself from whatever these masked mentalists have in store for him, Mr. Sweaty's ample arse gives him a soft landing plus the extra bounce needed to send him running merrily down the high street.

But those pesky psycho pikeys are in hot pursuit.

Bob Hoskins, up the casino, Tamworth, 1987.....YESCH!

Unfortunately our chubby heroes brain-based escape route radar is only attuned to cakes and after much frenzied wobbling he finds himself trapped in a back alley behind a bakers with the rubber-faced rotters slowly closing in...

Closing his eyes and hoping for a quick death (or a not too sore arse pummeling), he is fairly surprised that after a few seconds preparing for a beating that his assailants have suddenly disappeared.

"My word they've disappeared!" He exclaims (it's fansubbed, I'm sorry).

"No we haven't" says a mysterious masked man armed with a big gun next to him.

The Degenerazione boys (after magically re-appearing) look on menacingly as the poor guys screams...

"Laugh now!"

...before jarringly cutting to an antique shop where the middle-aged owner is getting phone hassle from a customer who wants an Ottoman delivered.

Convinced that this story is related to the fat bloke I begin to take notes.

Paying far too much attention I find myself being unwittingly dragged into the ensuing argument where it seems that young and hip honey June (some photo-fit blonde in a flimsy blouse) wants her new piece of furniture delivered earlier that agreed.

You see, it's her boyfriend Terry's birthday and she thinks he'd be well pleased with a huge piece of antique furniture for a gift.

My word she knows men so well.

Anyway, after much to-ing and fro-ing between shopkeep and lady the item is arranged to be delivered at 6 o'clock that evening.

But June has to promise that she'll be at home because the delivery man (who looks like the illegitimate child of a mouldy potato and an angry bassoon) is very grumpy and determined to get back as soon as possible as to not miss the new episode of Loose Women on teevee.

Shite in his mooth, blood on the thistle.

June gives her word but as soon as she puts the phone down her best friend Margot calls in a state of distress meaning that June, like a typical woman, forgets everything she's just said and heads straight out to go comfort her.

Returning home from work, birthday boy Terry (played by a pube headed lollipop in spectacles) begins to prepare a scrumptious meal whilst dancing like a tit to clichéd eighties soft rock when he's suddenly disturbed by the doorbell.

I mean it rings, not that it jumps on his and tries to fuck him with it's cold hard doorbell cock.

Tho' that would be fairly exciting.

Nope it's just our delivery spud growling menacingly and saying stuff like "I'm here to get you....let me in so I can stuff my box in your lounge!" and the like meaning that, quite understandably Terry gets the wrong end of the stick and thinks a mad killer has come to get him.

If only June had left a note.

But it's too late for that now so let's sit back and enjoy 20 minutes of Sam Raimi inspired violent lunacy coupled with a smidgen of breast grabbing across the Ottoman....

Jess Glynne: Harsh.

...Which leads us nicely to the home of Mr. Dirk Handsomestranger, a hunky lunk who, being in need of a drink and a wee bit of buggery, decides to visit Waxy O'Shinty's sailor themed gothic gay bar just along the beach from his house.

Well, he is European.

Ordering a Campari and soda, our studly pal can't help but notice a flamboyantly dressed older gentleman (who has a frightening resemblance to everyone's favourite Irishman Louise Walsh) sitting in the corner of the room nursing a tomato juice so, fancying a bit of old man cock, Dirk saunters over to join him.

Overpowered by the smell of sweaty leather and cheap aftershave (and not to mention being a bit tired of having to shout over the X Factor style Bauhaus tribute band) the pair decide to retire to Dirk's palatial love pad for more drink, less music and maybe, just maybe a saucy sex session of the rudest order.

With the booze and chatting flowing like so much horse semen into an aged prostitutes swollen stomach  our frill fronted fop admits that he's no normal man and that he has a dark secret.

And it's not that he dyes his hair or has his habit of furiously masturbating into children's teacups whilst listening to Jess Glynne.

Probably.

"Aye (s) Son!"

Nope, it turns out that his is, in fact a lonely old vampire, eager to impress with his tales of bloodlust, sodomy and working with Sharon Osbourne.

But as Dirk listens intently to his guest it becomes apparent that he may have a dark secret too...

...Meanwhile back in the big city, Mr. and Mrs. Middleincome are off out for a night of food, wine and depressingly middle class chat, leaving their cutesy-pie daughter home alone with only her homework and the brand new Teevee for company.

Unfortunately when they went to the shop to buy it they mistook 'includes evil child killing demon type' for '44" plasma screen plus Teletext'.

We've all been there.

Prepare for a night of child based terror as the killer telly (complete with the worlds longest extension cable) trundles loudly around the (stairless, that was lucky) house attempting to murder a small girl before zooming forward in time to experience a Blade Runner-esque future world where a massive lottery win can make you lose your head (literally) and women keep their hubbies on dog chains for some reason.

Oh yes, it's a subtle role reversal take on sexism.

Clever that.

Louise Walsh: He's got something to put in you (allegedly).

Some other stuff happened but needing a drink top up, a wee and a fag (but not all at once) I had to quickly leave the room but upon returning - I'd forgotten to press pause sorry - I was fairly surprised to see a naked (apart from a bus conductors hat) man persuading a young woman to hold his big umbrella before the wind took her (and it) flying across the fields before landing (with a psycho-sexual) bump in the city of Milan, where Terry the taxi driver is all set to go home after a hard days, um, taxi-ing.

Tho' I may have fallen asleep and imagined the last bit.

Anyway, after phoning his missis to see if she needs anything from the all night garage, Terry returns to his cab only to hear a voice from the back seat telling him not to turn around and just drive to a given destination.
Feeling oh so slightly uneasy about being mysteriously ordered about, Terry can't help but look round only to find that the back seat is empty, save a small briefcase.

Asia: She once wished me happy birthday...have you?

Is Terry going mad or is he just over tired?

Jumping out of the cab to clear his head, El Tel is forced to confront the bizarre truth of the situation when the disembodied voice angrily shouts at him to get back in the car.

It seems the mysterious presence has a job to do and time is running out...

Portmanteau part-work plots don't get much better than this story, which is a shame really as we've it doesn't end there, yup we've still to make the acquaintance of a sickeningly loved up couple who - between renovating their new home and having the sex - experience violence filled nightmares where they try to kill each other.

And the cat.

Hat.

Which brings us kicking, screaming (and sobbing) to our final tale.

A story of a normal man being stalk by a punk-tastic group of film makers intent on making him the star of their new snuff movie.

Yikes.

Ignored by the police and left to fend for himself, it's not long before our hapless hero has been beaten with a shovel and tied to a chair ready for his big close-up.

Luckily for him the designated sound guy is incapable of keeping the boom out of shot and this coupled with an impromptu shoot out and an unscheduled appearance by a nunchaku-wielding ninja may just be the the thing he needs to plan his escape.

And even maybe get the girl.

Who in this case is a leather skirted, fish-netted Asia.

Bastard.

No caption required.

With plots, acting and direction this diverse, you can't accuse Degenerazione of being boring and with it's frenetic mix of straight forward shocks, twisty-turny endings and highly eclectic story telling techniques you at least know that if you're not enjoying the current tale there'll be another one (or even two) along in a few minutes.

Shot for free by everyone involved, Degenerazione is an incredibly enjoyable mess of creativity over cash, putting to shame most no budget horrors of the last decade or so thru' sheer cheekiness alone.

Oh and did I mention Asia Argento is in it in fishnets?

Worth tracking down for the taxi segment (titled India 21) alone, Degenerazione played the film festival circuit before disappearing into oblivion alongside Tom Savini's Vampyrates and the third series of The Tripods, never to be seen again.

Until now obviously.

Unless it was all a dream that is.

chuckle vision*

After a week of dead hard drives, exploding arse and various things going wrong I've finally made it to the most exciting day of the year.

Yup, the great god John Carpenter is playing in Glasgow tonight!

Anyway as a tribute I thought that today's 31 Days of Horror should pay homage to the slasher genre re-invigorated by Carpenter's 78 classic Halloween.

Then I realised that I'd have to actually sit and plan watching some decent movies and crafting a well written critique so I thought 'fuck it' and just grabbed this of the twins shelf....

As regular readers will remember I've already covered Mask Maker so how could Bunnyman be anything other than great?




Bunnyman (AKA The Bunnyman Massacre, 2009).
Dir: Carl Lindberg
Cast: Scott Kuza, David Scott, Alaina Gianci, Lucia Sullivan, Cheryl Texiera, Matthew Stiller, Veronica Wylie and Matthew Phillips.

"Shit, alright, we've learned our lesson!"

Welcome to the arse end of Backwoodsville USA, where a bunch of college buddies are enjoying the long ride to Vegas.

Well that's what it says on the back of the box.

Lazily taking in the scenery our fairly fucked six-some are surprised when a big truck - first seen in a ropy pre-credits sequence being driven by a man with furry feet - appears from nowhere and tries to ram them off the road before revving up and driving away.

This road based rage game of cat and mouse (OK rabbit and mouse....or is that rabbit and teen?) continues just long enough to pad the films running time to feature length meaning the director - and I use that term loosely - can now continue with the plot good and proper.

And with that in mind the Duel copying truck driver finally succeeds in forcing the car off the road and into a convenient tree.

Ouch.

Beware: This van is not full of sweets.

Luckily one of the group, Jack (Kuza, like it matters) is a mechanic and is soon on his back fiddling underneath the car.

Which would probably be OK if the terrifying trucker hadn't decided a short while later to ram them again, squashing Jack flat.

A lucky escape for him methinks.

Deciding the best way to escape from the devilish driver is to run away our surviving pals leg it into the bushes where they soon come across an inbred mentalist (whose house is surrounded by inverted crosses and bags of bones) with a gun fetish and an untempered erection who shouts a lot.

Just like your dad.

"Gerroff mah lahnd an' gerrin mah mooth ya bashtad!"

With forced buggery nowhere near top of their agenda the remaining five make their excuses and leave, deciding that if they walk in a perfectly straight line till nightfall not only will they find help but will ultimately forget all about their dead pal.

Which they indeed do within about 5 minutes.

Bastards.

Luckily (for us and them) night soon falls meaning that:

A. We don't have to look at their punchable faces as much

and

B. Everyone knows scary shit happens at night.

Unfortunately in this case it's just two folk, a pube-haired hillbilly and a sexy (in a pram-faced council estate kinda way) woman sitting in a car.

I bet Tobe Hooper is shitting himself right now.

Not due to him being a more talented film-maker more to do with decomposition obviously.

You know a film's low budget when they can't even afford to give one actress an arse.

Unable to give them a ride to town due to pubey having a really contagious case of rickets, the lady (Brian I think her name was but I can't be sure, look if the director can't be arsed why should I?) suggests that they go and rest overnight in the blood spattered and seemingly abandoned cabin a few miles back and that she'll come pick them up the next morning.

Sounds legit.

Everyone reckons this is a great idea but being American aren't too used to walking so within five minutes the entire mob of them have fallen asleep under a tree.

Which does give us the opportunity to gaze at the strangely attractive Veronica Wylie as she snoozes.

Wylie: Muck shot violently over jubblies. More at ten.

Next morning everyone wakes refreshed and ready to go except the aforementioned Wylie that is, who keeps complaining that she was kept up all night by the sound of someone chomping loudly on carrots behind a nearby bush.

With her friends openly mocking her excuse for wanting an extra ten minutes kip (which if I'm honest probably makes a change from mocking her knobbly knees) Veronica heads over to the bush to investigate.

Popping her head around the exotic fauna she's (fairly) surprised to see a man in a sub-standard market stall rabbit suit wielding a chainsaw above his head.

This surprise however is cut short when he violently sticks it in her.
 

"What the fuck's up doc?"

Realizing that the rabbit is out for blood (and that there is only about 20 minutes left on the running time) our fearful foursome leg it toward the cabin only to discover that it's a trap.

Yup the cabin belongs to Mr. Bunnyman and his family which includes the harsh faced bird, that pubey bloke and a hunchback in a pair of welding goggles.

Tho' I doubt he's qualified. 

Outnumbered, out acted and scarily out witted, our surviving saps are pitted in a battle to the death against the loopiest Leporis since Rabbit Rampage was released on the SNES back in 1994.

Who will survive?

And what will be left of their careers?

Who'd have thought that after spewing forth the atrocious Shadow of The Dead over an unsuspecting world way back in 2004 that Danish boxer (he competed in the 1924 Summer Olympics) cum writer / director / producer and editor Carl Lindberg would create a horror character to rival Leatherface in the inbred badman stakes?

Not the person that hired that bunny suit that's for sure.

But scarily enough it works.

Which is a pity seeing as the rest of the movie is just a ragbag of ideas, scenes and situations stolen from a variety of  decidedly better sources.

Oh and Wrong Turn.

Tho' it is quite pretty to look at.

And I did sit thru' the whole thing without once wanting to stab myself in the eyes.

Which is more than can be said for Johnny English.

But is that really a good enough reason to buy this?

Answers on a postcard please.























































*As an aside, the reviews title was due to an amazing amount of hilariously conceived similarities 'tween the Bunnyman and The Chuckle Brothers fantastic Chucklehounds.

I was going to do the whole review as a comical exchange between the pair but to be honest I couldn't be bothered seeing as only about 3 folk read this.

What I can say is that'd have been bloody funny.

Probably.

If you don't know who The Chuckle Brothers are/were you can find out here.

 

world war zed.

Day 18 of 31 Days of Horror.

Enjoy.

Zeder (AKA Revenge of the Dead, Zeder: Voices from Darkness, Zeder: Voices from the Beyond, Zeder: voci dal buio, 1999)
Dir: Pupi Avati.
Cast: Gabriele Lavia, Anne Canovas, Paola Tanziani, Aldo Sassi, Adolfo Belletti, John Stacy, Alessandro Partexano, Cesare Barbetti, Ferdinando Orlandi, Enea Ferrario, Marcello Tusco and Bob Tonelli.

It's 1956 and we're in a rundown mansion in France where the cheekily chinned Dr Meyer (Barbetti) is preparing a spooky psychic experiment involving his night gowned daughter, Gabriella, a load of ex rental disco lights and a dirty basement.

I'm sure you can get done for that.

After a wee bit of bollocks regarding the nature of life after death, Gabriella surprises everyone by leaping out of bed and running to the dank cellar before suddenly falling to her knees and clawing at the earth (a bit like an attractively arsed doberman), uncovering a wallet, tickets to Cats and a old bus timetable.

Hmmm....

These turn of events seem to throw Meyer into an almost orgasmic frenzy as he hurries about shouting "I've found you!" to anyone who'll listen before rushing back upstairs to grab his camera, leaving his by now filthy (and not in a good way) daughter all alone.

Nothing bad could happen.

Could it?

Out of the shadows shambles a mysterious figure that pounces on the poor girl, mauling her (smooth and shapely) leg.

None of this seems to bother her dad tho', who is more excited by the identity of the wallets owner, one Mr. Paolo Zeder.

This, he surmises can mean only one thing.

The cellar must be built on one of those spooky 'K' zones.

Obvious really.

(Nae) Teeth in mah mooth.

Jumping forward (in a Quantum Leap manner) to present day Bologna, studly writer Stefano (Lavia, from Profondo Rosso and Beyond The Door) is looking forward to celebrating his first wedding anniversary with his moon faced - yet attractively pixie eared - wife Allesandra (Canovas from, oooh, loads of stuff including my rudest dreams).

Being in love and a thoughtful lady, she's bought her man a second hand electric typewriter (he got her a Fisher Price Knocking Shop and a brass tit from Argos) as a surprise gift.

She can't love him that much or she'd have shelled out for a new one.

He seems to like it tho', seeing as soon as he's unwrapped the gift he's dragged her off to bed for some of 'the sex' that these people in films seem to have a lot of.

Awakening in the middle of the night (due in no small part to his wife’s hideous flatulence), Stefano jumps out of bed and heads downstairs to try out his new typewriter.

I usually just smoke a fag after sex myself.

Obviously I clean up the mess and hide the body first.

But I digress.

Soon bored with all this key banging he decides to remove the ribbon to have a wee nosy at what kind of stuff the previous owner wrote.

Canovas: Crumpled tissues
and cold Pot Noodle.

I reckon he's hoping it's some of that dirty porn like the kind found in those magazines under your dad's bed.

No such luck, it would appear that the previous owner was some loon researching life after death, studying a bizarre theory whereby certain parts of the planet are imbued with special chemical properties enabling the dead to literally come back to life.

These highly rare areas are called (wait for it) K zones.

See?

It's not just random shite.

After spending all night transcribing the notes, Stefano excitedly goes to visit a professor chum to see if he can make heads or tails of the frankly billy bonkers notes.

As luck (and deft plotting) would have it Professor Chesi (Stacy, star of The Wild Beasts Will Get You and Giant of the 20th Century) recognizes the theories as those of the aforementioned Mr. Zeder, giving him ample opportunity to explain them (again) in arse numbing detail to Stefano.

And us lucky viewers obviously.

This blatant piece of unnecessary exposition is ultimately foiled when a whorish student of the Prof's bursts in and offers to have sex with Stefano.

"It's a fanny in a box! looks
like a box....smells like a fanny!"

Intrigued by all this talk of cheating death and the like (plus thinking it'd make a bloody good book or even a film) Stefano calls his swarthy as fuck police buddy Guido (sex criminal in training Partexano) to help find out who owned the typewriter before him.

Obviously Guido jumps at the chance.

You see, much like our local police in Glasgow, their Italian brethren much prefer to do important work like this - and fining folk fifty quid for dropping a fag end - rather than go out and actually catch criminals.

Rant over, now back to the review.

Strathclyde Police: stalking smokers
rather than catching criminals.

Using his fantastic detective skills (and no doubt threatening dodgy sexual acts to anyone who gets in his way) Guido tracks down one Don Luigi Costa (Orlandi), full time priest and part time follower of Zeder's theories.

Especially that is since he contracted lung cancer but there you go.

"Wanna come for a ride in mah love machine baby?"

Stefano visits 'Big Don' for a wee chat and an Empire biscuit, finding himself becoming increasingly more intrigued by the mystery of Mr. Zeder, even going as far as to visit the priests old blind sister for more clues.

Which is where the fun really begins.

You see, it appears that Don isn't, in fact Don at all, but a sweaty fat man with a thing for stabbing whorish students.

In tunnels.

This is probably really relevant but I can't be arsed figuring out why. 

Luckily for our heroes, a friend of Allesandra's, Doctor Melis (Tusco from Rossella Izzo's 1998 TV classic Leo & Beo) knew the real Don very well and even attended his burial in the local cemetery.

Well that's that sorted then.

Meanwhile, across town (probably) a grown-up (and slightly bearded) Gabriella is back working with her dad after being hired by a chubby dwarf named Mr. Big (Tonelli from The House of the Laughing Windows) who also desires the secrets of Zeder.

And a new pair of Cuban Heeled boots no doubt.

Whilst all these bizarro plot turns are going on it's good to know that Stefano is predictable enough to indulge in some good, old fashioned grave robbing, stealing what looks like a shoelace from Don's grave.

Look, it'll all make sense in the end.

Honestly.

But alas sall this driving around and skulking in graveyards is getting a bit too much for Allesandra tho' who, complaining about missing Eastenders, decides to drive home leaving Stefano at a rundown motel overlooking a huge unfinished French hotel complex famous in the area for a spate of nudist ramblers and ghost sightings.

Tho' no nude ghosts.

Stefano searches in vain for Allesandra's K zone.

Could this be, in some way related to all this Zeder nonsense?

The owner of the motel (Belletti) seems to think so and happily lend Stefano his telescope so he too can chance a look at some nude French birds.

No such luck for him tho' as he only catches a glimpse of the greasy haired, big binned pedo bearded priest (Ferrario) that he met at Don's house earlier in the movie.

A pedo priest? never?

Running into the woods to catch up with him Stefano is disappointed to find that he's only there to pick blueberries for his Nan's tea and not actually to look for the secrets of the undead.

Or so he claims before having his throat ripped out by an unseen assailant.

Left alone that night in the motel, our hero joins forces with the local bus driver to break into the building site and discover once and for all the secret behind Zeder.

But meanwhile poor Allesandra is about to discover that this dark conspiracy has it's roots far closer to home....

Ginger.

Something of an undiscovered classic, loved by those who've seen it yet unknown to a vast majority of horror fans, Pupi Avati's masterclass in bizarre atmosphere and oppressive tension is a zombie movie unlike any other.

This fact becomes even more surprising when you realise that Stephen King borrowed (OK blatantly stole) the plot wholesale for his novel Pet Sematary which was released later the same year and filmed in 1989 by Mary Lambert fact fans.

Playing out more like a Giallo than a conventional horror film, Avati fills each frame with hints of conspiracy and throwaway clues that make every character a possible suspect in the mystery of Zeder and it's this skillful writing that raises Zeder to sit among the best of Argento and Fulci's works.

Although not totally perfect; what the film makes up for in plot and scripting however it loses out with the directors seeming inability (or unwillingness) to direct the cast.

Luckily the film is full of genre stalwarts of which even the most creaky performances (stand up Lavia) fail to detract from the overall skewed atmosphere.

Hard to find but worth the effort.

Buy it now or forever be unfashionable.

documental.

Day 17 of the whole 31 Days of Horror thing and it's time to shake it up a wee bit with a movie that is - unusually for this blog - utterly bloody fantastic.

I've raved about it before but honestly until everyone I know has seen it I'm not going to stop.

Haunted Changi (2010)
Dir: Andrew Lau, Tony Kern (uncredited).
Cast: Andrew Lau, Audi Khalis, Farid Azlam and Sheena Chung.

Singapore's famous - in ghost hunting circles - Old Changi Hospital has - for years - been the focal point of hundreds of paranormal investigations by psychical researchers from both home and abroad.

Save for Yvette Fielding, who's unable to fly to Singapore due to unpaid library fines and crimes against swimsuit fashion.

Probably.

Anyway, the history of  the hospital gives an interesting insight into just why the site is claimed to be so haunted; originally commandeered as headquarters for the Japanese Military during World War 2, rumours circulated that the Japanese had built a number of barbaric torture chambers below the building in concealed tunnels as well as executing hundreds of POW's in  the hospital grounds.

Which is nice.

Not long after the war (we won by the way) the former hell hole was cleaned with disinfectant, given a fresh lick of paint and turned into a public hospital.

Obviously the local council thought that this would make everyone completely forget about the buildings notorious past.

Surprisingly this plan would have worked if only someone had decided to tell the myriad of ghosts, spectres and various Pontianaks (a Malay vampire fact fans) that haunt the building.


Typical local authority eh?

Not ones to let things lie, the concerned townsfolk decided that no ailment or illness was worth visiting haunted Changi Hospital for, so whilst the staff sat about twiddling their thumbs the local residents limped about and tried not to complain to much about their sore throats, various cancers and ingrowing toenails.

A wee bit like Govan then.

In 1997, the government finally took the hint and closed down Changi - no doubt relocating it to Holby City - leaving site open for numerous ghost-hunters, thrill seekers and vandals to visit in the hope of encountering any supernatural creatures or even coming across famous charlatan and ex-footballer Derek Acorah cracking one off in the basement*.

And this, dear reader is where we come in.

Changi Hospital: twinned with Fred West's house.

You see, groovy movie director Andrew Lau has decided to film a documentary about the infamous hospital, recruiting the pixie-like poppet Sheena Chung to produce his epic and hiring top sound-man (and all round sound guy) Farid Azlam and his cameraman buddy Audi Khalis to act as crew.

The brief is simple, with the documentary starting out in standard style with lots of creepy time lapse shots of the building, various talking heads interviews, a wee bit of wandering about the building during daylight hours and background info that will finally culminate with an all night vigil alongside the local paranormal group.

What could possibly go wrong?

"...and this is where I take off my zombie mask and shite in the tramps mooth".

With all concerned not taking the shoot too seriously (indeed, Khalis is more interested in using the night vision camera to gaze at young girls breasts in nightclubs), the crews mood is pretty playful with even Andrew admiting that they may edit in some homemade 'spooky stuff' to give the audiences a thrill.

Their day time jaunts to the hospital and evenings spent in the editing room show a group of close friends laughing and joking, sometimes at each others expense but all committed to making the best movie that they can.

Imagine, if you will  Cannibal Holocaust's lost footage revealing that the crew were busy helping the natives build rafts and knit jumpers before wandering off happy and content and you're halfway there.

But not too surprisingly, all that is about to change.

Watch out...Beadle's about!

Checking thru' the latest footage Andrew spots a ghostly, shadowy hand resting on Sheena's shoulder and if that wasn't enough to put the willies up our team then the headless shadows appearing against the hospital walls must surely serve as a warning of bad things to come.

Luckily for us it doesn't otherwise it'd be a really short film.

As the night shoot beckons Andrew appears to be somewhat distracted but no-one really notices seeing as the local paranormal group have turned up with a wee boy in tow.

It seems that whenever they go on an investigation (or 'vigil' as they call it) they drag the group leaders son along and make him go into the building first.

Seemingly if he doesn't get eaten, possessed or buggered by trees then the ghosts are friendly.

Phew, glad that's sorted.

If your hand is bigger than your face you'll die young....

Everything is going swimmingly until the poor little sod is sent up a darkened corridor leading to the toilets.

Within seconds of him touching the door handle (and cloth) he runs screaming out of the hospital and off down the road causing the investigators to hastily agree that they have enough evidence to suggest that yes, the hospital is probably haunted.

And with that they leave.

Unperturbed by this turn of events Andrew and co. soldier on, getting plenty of creepy footage and scary noises to spook the thrill-seeking public but when they return to the relative comfort of their studio, Andrew seems a little distracted.

After much verbal prodding his pals discover that a few days earlier when exploring the hospital, he'd come across  a Chinese national - the exotically monikered Xiao Juan - who it seems had been unwittingly duped into working in Singapore's burgeoning sex trade (we've all been there) and after fleeing her pimp had ended up living rough on site.

And Andrew, never one to miss an opportunity had been secretly interviewing her for the documentary. 

Boo!

Obviously his pals are oh so slightly pissed of that he's been keeping secrets from them, especially Sheena who having a crush on the cheeky chappie flies off in a jealous rage causing Andrew to storm out of the studio to a rousing "Fuck you!" whilst carrying a huge bag of tapes out to his car.

Which doesn't really bode well for the rest of the shoot.

The crew, being nice folk decide to give him time to calm down.

Bless.

Not too sure on Chris Chibnall's Dalek redesign.

After a few weeks of unanswered calls and sitting about randomly looking at blank monitors Sheena decides that they should maybe go and visit Andrew to try and make amends.

Oh and hopefully get back to finishing their movie obviously.

But on arriving at his house none of them are prepared for the stench of stale sweat, egg and shame emanating from his kitchen.

Stumbling from the bedroom covered in sticky filth and weeping sores, it appears that Andrew has spent the intervening time hanging around the hospital alone, filming extra footage and 'probing' Xiao Juan for information.

Completely obsessed with both his new squeeze and the secrets of the hospital, he begs his colleagues to join him for one last night shoot where he promises to reveal the truth behind the hauntings once and for all.....

Appearing almost from nowhere way back in 2010, US born Singapore based Tony Kern's mockumentary shocker is a scarily effective little tale that plays out like one of those seldom repeated Christmas ghost stories of old so loved by the BBC  that builds slowly yet creepily towards it's shock climax, a lean mean tale of caution that works not only as a supernatural tale but also as a modern equivalent of an old fashioned folk fable akin to Hansel and Gretal.

Following the blueprint set by his first full length feature, A Month of Hungry Ghosts - in which Kern's takes the celebrations surrounding the seventh-lunar-month Hungry Ghost Festival and adds a few supernatural events of his own -  Haunted Changi's real-life hospital setting and history - it's reported to be Singapore's most ghost filled location alongside The Old Ford Motor Factory on Upper Bukit Timah Road, Fort Canning Park and the pontianak riddled Old Commando Jetty near Changi Beach - is used (and abuse)d as a basis for a good old haunted house tale which is as rewarding as it is scary.

Not bad for a film that probably cost less than the photocopying budget of Hereditary.

Laugh nooooooooooooooooooooooooo.....

With it's likeable cast, genuinely freaky locations and simple, scare filled agenda Haunted Changi is worth searching for in much the same way as the intrepid film makers hoped to search for ghosts.

Albeit with less chance of being dazzled by one of Derek Acorah's guitar shaped diamond earings.

Criminally it's never gotten a UK distribution deal (we did try - shame on the company that knocked it back, you know who you are) but like most things it's available to buy elsewhere so you've no excuse for not going online and ordering it right now.

And while you're at it pick up copies of the director's other works - the anthology movie Afterimages and the aforementioned - and frankly fantastic - documentary A Month Of Hungry Ghosts too.

Interested?

If you're a proper horror fan you should be.































* Tho' probably not the last one.

snatch.

Day 16 of the glorious misadventure that is 31 Days of Horror and we've hit the good stuff.

This film is a bit of a lucky charm for this blog seeing as the first time I ever wrote about it the movies star actually left a comment.

This as you can imagine was a wee bit of a surprise.

Partly because it wasn't a threat of legal action but mainly because it meant someone had actually read it.

Who knows what may happen this time?

Lady Terminator (AKA Pembalasan ratu pantai selatan, Nasty Hunter, The Revenge of the South Seas Queen. 1988).
Dir: Jalil Jackson (AKA H. Tjut Djalil).
Cast: Barbara Anne Constable, Claudia Angelique Rademaker, Christopher J. Hart and dozens of people that the director possibly found in the street.

"I'm not a lady, I'm an anthropologist!"

Somewhere in the exotic south seas, the big of hips and high of hair evil queen of those very waters is kicking back in her cardboard castle, lounging around in a tasteful see-thru nightie and market stall mules, her armpit hair tastefully swaying in the breeze.

Understandably shattered after spending the evening murdering a variety of Burt Reynolds a-likes with her frighteningly poisonous - and serpent filled - vagina, her attempts to catch up with the latest gossip in Heat magazine is rudely cut short when a donkey cocked yet disturbingly scrawny bloke climbs in thru the window.

Wearing his granddad's pants.

Licking his thin sweaty lips he launches himself at (and onto) the queen for a wee bit of the old in and out.

The first of many such hellish moments of uncomfortable intercourse during this film I must add.

Indeed if you're of a weak or nervous disposition turn away now.

What your dad really gets up to on his work trips.

Whilst keeping the Queen occupied with some smooth armpit licking our hero manages to reach up into her fearsome fanny and pull out a huge snake which he then turns into a sword.

No, really.

Shocked (wouldn't you be?) by this turn of events, the Queen angrily orders him to change it back and pop it back up.

Oh and if he doesn't mind can he try and find her car keys whilst he's at it.

Determined to put an end to her fanny-based killings he throws the sword away whilst Queenie, in a perfect example of post sex pouting flounces off out of the window promising that: "In 100 years I will have my revenge on your Great Granddaughter" before promptly disappearing into the sea.

Aye hen.

Don't worry tho', the film isn't actually that short because what we've just witnessed is a 'prologue' that will lead - via some snazzy Letraset titles - to 'the modern day' (well, the mid 80s at least) where the bubble permed and bullet nippled student of things Tania (the frankly fantastic Constable) is spending her vacation scuba diving of the south seas coast.

Bizarrely it seems that her thesis is all about the legend of the Queen's infamous killer vagina and she's determined to find some evidence that it really did exist at any cost.

But - and isn't this always the way? - Tania at one point mistakes scuba-diving for getting tied to a cheap hotel bed clad only in a pair of huge pants meaning that before you know it the Queens snake has re-appeared and made its new home in the poor girls (lusciously maintained) lady garden, meaning our sexy student has transformed into an arse kicking, cock crushing unstoppable vixen of vengeance.

Ladies and gentlemen we present the Lady Terminator!

Or the Nasty Hunter to give Tania her alternative title.

Beware the Perminator.....Peow!

And her mission?
Why, to do bad stuff to that bloke from earliers Great Granddaughter, an up and coming popular music singer named Erica (the hamster cheeked Rademaker from, um, not much else) of course.

Cue copious amounts of man-based beatings and violence as or arse-kicking anti-heroine prowls the streets looking for revenge.

And some shiny lipgloss.

Back in the city - and the plot - the local police are at a loss to explain the huge amounts of half naked, bullet riddled and crush cocked corpses that have suddenly begun to litter the cities streets and cheaper hotel rooms, which is the perfect case for the manly Max (Hart, possibly the same one that's now a close-up magician but who really knows?), aided and abetted by his mulleted Israeli man-friend Snake.

Tania farted...and it smelled of shame.
Oh, and Brexit.

And so begins a race against time - and fashion - to prevent the bewitched Tania from extracting the Queens revenge.

Will Max and Snake succeed?

Or at least have a drunken fumble in the back of a car?

And will there be a failed attempt on Erica's life in a brutal (I say brutal but I meant to type cheap) attack in a discotheque followed by a mid-point fire fight in a police station Ala The Terminator?

You'll have to watch it to find out.

Ooh, I'm such a tease.

Thanks to a lucky economic boom in the late seventies (and an influx of cheap cameras and even cheaper foreign workers) coupled with a relaxation of it's up till now archaic and almost British censorship laws, Indonesia's fledgling film industry exploded in a multi-coloured garishly gory lo-fi exploitation movies that bizarrely mixed current Hollywood fads alongside themes and ideas unique to Indonesian culture creating some of the strangest (and in some cases dodgiest) movies ever to grace the big screen.

And the strangest of all must be Lady Terminator.

Not really stealing from the James Cameron hit The Terminator, more like breaking into its house and tying it spreadeagled to a table before sticking a toothbrush up its arse, H. Tjut Djalil's magnum opus cheekily lifts entire scenes, complete pages of dialogue and even certain camera angles from the Arnie blockbuster yet despite the almost non existent budget, manages to improve on the original by adding liberal doses of sex, nudity (and even some sexy nudity) to the mix creating a psychedelically charge psychotronic melting pot of pure grade A cinematic cheese.

And by God am I grateful to him for that.

Blood, breasts and bubble perms....what's not to love?

But the movies biggest asset (in more ways than one**) must be the presence of the statuesque Barbara Anne Constable, an actress whose range can go from frumpy bespectacled student to leather clad killing machine via a skimpy bikini and big pants without once batting an eyelid or breaking a sweat.

It's a crime against cinema - and teenage crushes - that she never made another movie.

We must hunt her down now and persuade her to returning to acting.

If not in films then at the very least we can all chip in a quid each, hire a camera and an old warehouse and get her to act out all of our leatherette, automatic weapon filled fantasies.

I mean how could she refuse?

Honestly if this isn't in your collection you should be ashamed of yourself.






And after all that you still need a reason to view this masterpiece then maybe, just maybe the fact that the credits feature this vaguely amusing caption may finally persuade you...

*prologue
1. A separate introductory section of a literary, dramatic, or musical work.
"the suppressed prologue to Women in Love"

"the prologue to his book on the harrowing contemporary history of West Bromwich"

2. An event or act that leads to another.
"the events from 1945 to 1956 provided the prologue to the post-imperial era"
Or
(in professional cycling) a short preliminary time trial held before a race to establish a leader.

"I got third in the prologue and eighth on the hardest stage"

You're welcome.




































**And in case you were wondering, the phrase 'in more ways than one' refers to the already mentioned fact that she was lead make-up artist on the film and is in no way a cheap reference to her stunning breasts.

Thank you.

screen burn.

It's another day in the slow motion car crash that is 31 Days of Horror and we're trading scares for 'the sex' as we grab our old VHS player and insert....

Sx_Tape (2014).
Dir: Bernard Rose.
Cast: Caitlyn Folley, Ian Duncan, Chris Coy and Diana Garcia, Julie Marcus, Daniel Faraldo but alas not Jason Segal or Cameron Diaz.

Robby: Who has sex for three hours?
Jay: We did!
Robby: That's the length of the movie "Lincoln". You did the full Lincoln.
Ooops....wrong tape...

The annoyingly nasal and scarily pube bearded Adam (Ian Duncan but not Smith unfortunately) bored with constantly making dodgy sex videos with his girlfriend - the free-spirited (meaning she gets her kit off at the drop of a hat) and spookily milky arsed Jill (Folley, a kinda Lidl Lily Rabe) decides instead to make a documentary about her life and work as an artist.

In between filming them having sex obviously.

After what seems like an eternity of watching the happy hippy couple gazing lovingly at each other, shoplifting sunglasses and Jill baring her arse to passersby from her kitchen window, Adam decides that what the movie (both his and the one we're being forced to endure) needs is a fantastic location full of fear and spookiness.

Unfortunately the budget doesn't stretch to anything remotely like that (I mean they can't even afford a halfway decent fitting bra for Jill, every time she walks past it's like she has two frisky puppies fighting under her shirt) so Adam drives Jill out to the recently abandoned Vergerus Institute for Troubled Women.

The hospital obviously named by a fan of director Ingmar Bergman, has a long history abuse, abortions and lecherous lobotomy lovers making it the perfect place, according to Adam for Jill to throw a party to celebrate her artistic skills.

Or get possessed by a vengeful spirit and kill folk.

Whichever's more convenient for the plot.

Salt and vinegar.

Dodging security guards as they venture further into the hospital, it's only a matter of time (if not taste) before Adam talks Jill into letting him tie her down to an operating table under the pretense of having some of the kinky sex.

Unfortunately for Jill (but not us because it means we aren't going to have to look at her arse again) Adam has no intention of putting it in her in a violent manner usually reserved for dogs and your dad when drunk, preferring to run away in an attempt to convince Jill that he's fucking off home and leaving her there for the night.

  Smoky bacon.

The rest of the film consists of hour upon hour of hilarious camera footage as Jill tries to scratch her nose and tries not to pee herself etc. before Adam returns the next day and frees her.

After an initial bout of grumpiness, laughs and swearing ensue all round as the couple imagine how they'll spend the £250 they'll get from You've Been Framed.

The end.

If only.

Nope, what actually happens is that within seconds of him wandering off a female ghost appears and possesses Jill causing her first to agree to a wee bout of bondage bed sex with Adam and secondly - yet much more erotically if I'm honest, to have a severe nose bleed in a kinda League of Gentlemen way.

Bloody Hell the Babadook isn't going to turn up too is he?

Quavers.

Realizing that nose bleeds, arses and mild bondage do not a horror movie make our dense duo decide to go home only to find that their car has been towed leaving Jill no choice but to call her even more annoying (if that were possible) pals Ellie (Garcia best known as Ximena from the fantastic TV show Kdabra...No me neither) and her infinitely punchable 'art terrorist' boyfriend, the buck-toothed Bobby (Hostel III's Coy) for a lift home.

It'll come as no surprise when I tell you that they don't actually head home for more mutual ego masturbation but head back into the hospital under the pretence that Bobby can 'tag' the place whilst waving a pistol around in a gangsta manner.

Yup, he's a gun totin' graffiti artist.

Or as we call them around here a massive bellend.

Watch out watch out Bobby's about.

With his gun in one hand and his cock in the other Bobby manages the near impossible task of making the other characters seem likeable as he swaggers around attempting to mount Jill like a desperate, drowning man at any opportunity which, if nothing else annoys Adam enough to forced him to stomp off in a sulk closely followed by the vacuum sucking non-entity that is Ellie.

This of course gives Jill and Bobby ample time to saunter off to possibly have sex/get murdered by an evil ghost.

Or both.

Frankly I don't care.

Prawn cocktail.

After a while Ellie, bored with having to look at Adams beard and after sucking all the joy from the room persuades him to stand in a corner whilst she goes off to find the others, leaving the hairy one to mutter to himself until that is his narcissistic natterings are interrupted by a volley of screams and gunfire.

Adam goes to investigate, eventually finding an hysterical (but not in that way) Jill covered in blood and semen and surround by spent bullet casings.

Hmmm.

Jill mutters something about having Bobby trying to put it in her lady garden and Ellie being upset before wandering off to the hospital's medical record archive, where she almost immediately picks up the file belonging to Toni Colette (played by Grand Theft Auto V's Marcus), a violently suicidal schizophrenic patient ultimately lobotomized for being too mad.

Oh yeah and for appearing in the United States of Tara TV series.

Probably.

Monster munch.

If that wasn't enough tho' it seems that poor Colette was actually lobotomized on the very bed that Jill was strapped to earlier.

What are the chances eh?

And could this mean that Colette has in fact possessed Jill?

Our jumpy duo have no time to ponder such mysteries as Jill is soon running down the corridors shouting abuse at Adam whilst he points the camera at various bits of the room hoping to see the ghostly girl that keeps appearing  at random intervals framed by a hazy glow of mid-80's Top of The Pops visual trickery.

Which everyone knows means a fantastically scary climax must be fast approaching.

After much, well a bit of searching Adam comes across Jill (but not in that way tho' I've no idea why seeing as everyone else has) hiding in an office clutching a video tape which he tries to take it from her.

Being a big wuss tho' he only manages a couple of half arsed grabs before she pushes him out of the way and disappears again.

It's becoming less Blair Witch more Chariots of Fire the amount of running in this movie, I'm knackered just writing about it.

Tho' that might have to do with the copious times I've had to get up and wander around the room for fear of beating myself to death due to the effects of watching such a turgid movie.

Spicy nik naks.

As luck - and plot convenience would have it - the hospitals security system is still working, allowing Adam to trace his gaga girlfriend via the miracle of CCTV and to also, thanks to good old fashioned video technology rewind the tape and find out what actually happened between Jill, Ellie and the Bobster.

Oh you'd forgotten about them too?

Well it seems that Bobby and Jill did in fact have 'the sex' but were interrupted by Ellie who like anyone in that situation decided to join in.

Which was all well and good (if a wee bit blurry) until Jill decides to spoil everyone's fun by shooting the pair in their respective faces.

Don't you hate it when that happens?

Doritos.

Needing to pee (or crack one off, take your pick) after such a shocking revelation Adam heads to the nearest bathroom only to find Jill sitting silently in the cubicle still clutching the video tape.

Covered in blood, sweat, egg and shame and stinking like a pikeys vest, Jill scarily demands that Adam allows her to give him a blow job before changing her mind and shooting him in the head.

And the contents of the video tape?

It seems that the black hearted (and bearded) head of the hospital Dr. Simeone had filmed himself fiddling with an anesthetized Colette before performing her lobotomy.

And possibly after.

The end.

The phrase 'another day, another found footage movie' seems to have been playing on a constant loop for the last 10 years, i mean for Bods sake is no-one making anything else?

And no, 80s set nostalgia flicks don't count.

And when you come across one directed by Brit flick stalwart Bernard 'Mary' Rose you can at least expect it to look nice can't you?

I mean come on, this is the guy that gave us Candyman and Snuff Movie.

Hmmm.....I didn't really think that thru' did I?

"Is it in yet?"

Apart from the sex tape angle there's nothing here we haven't seen a hundred (OK a hundred and six) times before and even then the quite cool idea of haunted semen based shenanigans is completely discarded on the title alone as first (only hopefully) time writer Eric Reese blows it all by concentrating on a spooky abandoned building instead.

Maybe it's uniqueness blinded me.

Or more likely the overall averageness of the proceedings has numbed me to a point where I can't type for fear of bringing the whole depressing mess back before my eyes.

No plot, no point, no mercy.

Tomorrow something good.

If my computer is working, obviously.