head the ball.

Rewatched this last night.

Well that was short and to the point.


Horror Rises From The Tomb (1973).
Dir: Carlos Aured.
Cast: Paul Naschy, Emma Cohen, Helga Liné, Cristina Suriani, Julio Peña, Montserrat Julio, Betsabé Ruiz, Elsa Zabala, María José Cantudo, Juan Cazalilla and Vic Winner.

Bloody Hell my spellcheck has had a breakdown after that.

It's sometime in the late Middle Ages in a playpark somewhere in France (played in this case by Madrid doing a passable impression of a shit-covered French field) where a pair of French nobletypes -  Armand du Marnac (Naschy, nuff said) and his pal Andre Roland (Winner from Count Dracula's Great Love) are busy leading a group of soldier types who are in turn taking a black-clad duo to their deaths via an old cart pulled by cows.

Obviously the films budget would only stretch to two horses and the stars have those.

Turns out that the two prisoners are Armand’s brother, Alaric (Naschy again but this time in a comedy beard) and his girlfriend Mabille de Lancre (Liné, who appears in this blog so often I really should just name it after her and be done with it) both of whom have been convicted of not only crimes against fashion but also of cannibalism, blood-drinking, drawing penises on pictures of the mayor, buggery, false promises of 350 million quid to the NHS post Brexit and human sacrifice.

Which is nice.

After cursing his brother and his descendants Alaric is quickly beheaded (mainly so as you don't see the cut 'tween Naschy and the shop window dummy with a hastily painted balloon head) whilst Mabille is stripped naked, hung upside down by her ankles and whipped a bit to a spooky organ soundtrack.

Maybe she's born with it?

With all this breast-based scene setting out of the way we're off to 70s sunny Paris (or at least a wee bit of Naschy's holiday Super 8 footage) where dumpy descendant Hugo du Marnac (yup it's Naschy yet again) has just popped round to tell his artist friend Maurice (Winner back for more) that his girlfriend, the council estate Elle Fanning Paula (Experiencia prematrimonial’s Suriani), has returned from Germany and is staying with Hugo's squeeze, the frightbrowed Silvie (Return of The Blind Dead and The Loreley's Grasp star Ruiz) and that the boys have been invited round for some Aldi booze based fun.

Unfortunately Silvie has also invited the séance obsessed, professional oldsters  Gail (The Blood-Spattered Bride's Julio) and Sean (Satanik's Peña) over for the evening and they soon dominated the proceedings with chat pertaining to the spooky psychic medium Madam Irina Kormorova (high Scrabble scoring Zabala from your granddad's bed) and her ability to converse with the dead.

Sean and Gail suggest that they all go and see her and the gang excitedly agree.

Maurice however being sensible (and having a painting to finish) declines the invitation and goes home for a tearful wank and a Pot Noodle whilst the rest of the gang grab their jackets and head of to Kormorova's house.

Obviously being a legit psychic she'll know that they're coming.

In both cases.

"Hands on mah table!" - Trump's nightmare.

Hugo, being skeptical about all things paranormal (so it's a good thing he hasn't taken a look at his wig in a mirror then) cheekily suggests that Madam  Kormorova should attempt to contact the spirit of the aforementioned Alaric du Marnac in order to find out if it’s true that his head and body were buried in separate graves on the family estate.

You'll not be too surprised to find that Alaric does indeed appear and not only confirms the facts of his burial but also gives the precise location of where both body and head will be found.

Meanwhile, Maurice too is receiving a visitation from the vengeful spirit in the form of a possessed painting session that climaxes in him producing a picture of Alaric holding his severed head.

Shocked at how shite the actual piece is Maurice quickly destroys it.

I made this.

As you can probably guess the next day our groovy foursome excitedly pack their bags and begin the long drive over to Hugo’s ancestral estate.

Being a Paul Naschy movie tho' nothing is that simple (or logical) so it's not long before the group are attacked by bandits on the road (obviously bored by the lack of British beef to burn) giving our hero a chance to show off his fighting skills before a local lynch-mob arrives and kills the ruffians to death.

Most upsetting tho' is the fact that the bad men have totaled Hugo’s car, forcing him to buy (in the films most exciting scene) what looks like a cheap Chitty Chitty Bang Bang knock off in which to complete the journey.

And this my friends is the kind of thing that made people vote leave*

Finally arriving at the estate Hugo and co. are greeted by Terry Gaston the family butler (giant atomic monster Cazalilla) and his dishy daughters, Elvire (button nosed uber-babe Cohen, who later found fame as Gallina Caponata - the Spanish counterpart to Big Bird in their version of Sesame Street) and Chantal (Cantudo, who's bound to have been in loads of stuff but I can't bother checking) who busy themselves taking the luggage upstairs whilst gazing dreamily at Hugo.

But then again who wouldn't?

"Hello madam....Do you require any scissors sharpening?

As dawn breaks Hugo - alongside Maurice, Gaston and a couple of local ne'er-do-wells are busying themselves digging for Alaric's remains, well the plebs are - Hugo is just standing around like a club-footed catalogue model smoking a fag.

Suddenly Maurice is struck by a bizarre premonition of where Alaric (or at least bits of him) is buried and hurriedly starts to dig up the tomato patch soon uncovering a rusty box that's just about the right size for a human head.

Hmmm.

Ordering the hired help to take the box back to the château, Hugo announces that he'll head into town for a blowtorch (I'm pretty sure that's what he said)  to open the box but not until tomorrow as right now there is booze to be drunk and fags to smoke.

Oh and doe-eyes to make at Elvire behind Silvie's back.

Which is fair enough I guess.

Unfortunately the hired help reckon that they’ve uncovered a box of valuable treasures so decide to wait till nightfall and open it themselves but as they burn it open Gaston appears in the doorway brandishing a rolling pin which is kinda unfortunate for him seeing as the now released head of Alaric is free to extend its evil influence onto one of the thieves who picks up a handy sickle before striking Gaston - and his pal - down.

Wiping the bloodied weapon on Gaston's best shirt he picks up the head and carries it away to the crypt in order to reunite it with its body.

Emma Cohen: You would, I would, your dad probably did. Twice. That's why him and yer maw never talk about that holiday to Benidorm they had in 1973.

Meanwhile back at the château the friends game of Twister is interrupted by the appearance of a blood and snot soaked Elvire and Chantal who have just discovered their dead dad.

Hugo quickly grabs his jacket and alongside Maurice ventures out to find the killer ordering the ladies to go to their rooms and lock the doors until they return.

All except Chantel that is, I mean there's washing up to do and it's not going to clean itself.

As she starts work on removing those stubborn stains that just wont fade (the remains of Hugo's runny egg on toast obviously) the possessed pikey prowls into the kitchen and strikes her down before abducting poor Paula and heading back to du Marnac’s crypt.

Maurice, being slightly fitter - and considerably less portly than Hugo - heads off to look for her leaving his pal to console Elvire over the death of her dad and sister by sticking his engorged member in her.

Which, admit it, we'd all do.

Meanwhile Maurice has ended up hypnotized by Alaric and is ordered to bring Sylvia to the crypt where her life-force will be used to resurrect Mabille de Lancre but not before he's helped attach Alaric's head to his body and removed Mabille's skeleton from its resting place.

And if you thought things couldn't get any worse (either in front of or behind the camera) Alaric has torn out the tramps heart and scoffed it.

Returning with Sylvia (wearing a bri-nylon babydoll nightie that even your nan would balk at for being too whorish, Maurice is forced to look on as Alaric strips her naked and stabs her to death before having a sneaky feel of her boobs and locking her in a coffin where - in an amazing show of quick cuts and sloppy editing Mabille appears in her place looking for all the world like she's set for a night frugging away at Studio 54.

Or at the very least the Astoria in Nottingham**.

The Astoria Nottingham: sequined boob-tubes and wet t-shirts not shown.

The devilish duo waste no time in wreaking their vengeance, mysteriously materialising around town in a puff of purple smoke to have sex with various non-speaking extras before tearing their hearts out and - as an encore - sending an albeit small group of zombies (including Gaston) to attack Hugo and Elvire who by this time have discovered an ancient talisman - cunningly hidden behind the toilet cistern -  that has been in the du Marnac family for centuries and kept just on the off-chance that the evil pair ever returned.

Which is lucky if you think about it.

"Put it in me!"

As the pervy paranormal pairs powers grow it's left to Hugo and Elvire to save the world (well OK the local town) from a deadly plague of sex-based brutality and harsh buggery.

Probably.

Will Maurice regain his free will or at the very least change out of his baby pink shirt?

Will Hugo stop nailing anything that moves?

Will Helga Liné cover up as she looks like she may catch her death of cold?

And will Paul Naschy - after a 10 year wait - end up making a follow up starring the lovely Frances Ondiviela which is just like the original but with more gore, lots more front bums and better wigs?

 Paying homage to - OK totally ripping off - the Will Cowan 1958 American black-and-white 'classic' The Thing That Couldn't Die, Paul Naschy's first collaboration with director Carlos 'The Jackal' Aured (they would later go on to make El Retorno de Walpurgis, Los ojos azules de la muñeca rota and La venganza de la momia together) features nearly everything we know and love about the Naschy oeuvre except werewolves, tho' the stars naturally hairy back and arse near enough makes up for this omission - I mean what other movie can you name that features spooky séances, cannibalism, zombies, random acts of nudity and a lead who changes his outfit almost every scene?

 

You ain't seen me right?

Whether he's punching perverts or putting it in pretty ladies - Naschy is - a ever - totally watchable as both the hero and villain of the piece, admirably aided by genre stalwarts Vic Winner (AKA Víctor Barrera) and the ginger goddess that is Helga Liné working from a script that makes just enough sense as to make the whole absurd thing vaguely plausible.

If you don't think about it too much obviously.

As with most (all?) of Naschy's output what the film lacks in budget, logic and half-way competent dubbing it more than makes up for in sheer chutzpah and if you can switch off your brain and accept Naschy as a love god whom women find irresistible then you'll have no bother accepting (and enjoying) everything else the movie has to offer.

Except maybe some of Paul's more interesting fashion choices obviously.

And I must admit in some scenes it does look like he's applied his foundation with a trowel.   

No matter how hard he tried Jeff Beck just couldn't tune his Ronco Lady0gram to 6 Music.

But let's be honest, there's not much I can say - I mean if you read this blog chances are you'll already be a fan of the great mans work (except if you're one of those folk that only come by to look at the nudity and leave me abuse) but if you've chanced across this by accident then strip down to your pants and excitedly dive into the world of Naschy.

You can thank me later.

Just wash your hands first.
































*Well that and the very English pastime of hating foreigners obviously - thank fuck I live in Scotland as we only have rickets to worry about.



**Or, to give it its proper name, Barry Noble's Astoria.

Barry (now famed for owning most of the UK's penny arcades as well as for owning one of the countries biggest Cyberman memorabilia collections) bought what had earlier been the Astoria Ballroom and then the Sherwood Rooms from Mecca (the bingo hall company not the religious place), turning it into one of the defining clubs of the 80s  - coining the phrase 'Is That Alright Fyuzs' along the way.

Noble: Prize.

On a slightly more sinister note its most famous DJ, Graham Neale (who also did the Castle Rock show on Radio Trent) committed suicide in prison after trying to murder his wife with a hammer.

***Indeed he will and that film shall be called.....

root it oot.

Since lockdown I seem to be spending far too much of my time wandering around the local woods with our youngest.

Somehow it seemed appropriate to watch this today cos it was really rainy and we couldn't go out.

The Forest (1982).
Dir: Donald M. Jones.
Cast: Dean Russell, Gary Kent, Tomi Barrett, John Batis, Ann Wilkinson, Jeanette Kelly, Corky Pigeon, Becki Burke, Tony Gee, Stafford Morgan, Marilyn Anderson Jean Clark and Donald M. Jones.

'If you go down to the woods today... You might never get out alive.'

Somewhere in the American great outdoors an unnamed couple of the type you only get in early 80s horror movies that have only relatives and neighbours to cast from - you know the types, long, horse like faced women with Farrah flicks and middle-aged guys with stud beards grey chest hair poking thru' an open necked stonewashed shirt a size too small for him - are having fun hiking thru' the woods whilst attempting to chat in a non-stilted manner as an instantly forgettable MoR rock track plays in the background.

Everything is going smoothly, well as smoothly as two non-actors trying to recite dialogue whilst not slipping down muddy banks can go, until that is the lady (Anderson whose post Forest career peaked with an appearance as a Receptionist in a 1983 episode of Dynasty*) gets a feeling of impending dread and a notion of them being watched from the trees.

Her husband (Morgan, best known for his spot on portrayal as an engineer in Die Hard 2: Die Harder), being that kind of guy, poo-poos the idea but in order to placate his missis (in the hope of some tent based todger tickling later) allows her to walk ahead of him so she'll feel less threatened.

No me neither.

"I'm sorry, I have my woman's period."

We don't have to much time to worry about such trivialities tho' as the pair have soon been dispatched by an unseen assailant with a big knife as an even more forgettable MoR track with lyrics about spooky forests blurts out over the credits.

Which I have to admit feature one of THE best home made fonts of all time.

And here it is:

Genius.


Anyway we're soon with the plot good and proper where best buds - handsome hunk Steve (mustached macho man and council estate Tom Selleck, Russell) and the ferret like Charlie (Batis who I think went into Christian-based arts as far as I remember, I'd check but to be honest I can't be arsed) are busy planning a boys weekend away camping in the woods much to their girlfriends - Teddi (Poundshop Cheryl Ladd, Wilkinson - and the thin lipped Sharon (Ex stunt person Barrett) - chagrin.

It seems that the laydees are a wee bit pissed off at the fellas constant digs at women's lib and the like so the pair decide to play them at their own game and go camping by themselves.

Or is it with the guys?

It's kinda confusing if I'm honest.

Anyway the next morn the girls drive off toward the forest but as they chat it becomes increasingly apparent that neither of them have any idea about camping and were only saying they did in order to come across as equal to the men.

Because feminism.

Or a glib generalization of what feminism is according to the (male) director obviously.

Meanwhile the boys are running late due in part to the car breaking down but mainly because it took Steve and hour and a half to fit into his crotch revealing denims so by the time they arrive at the campsite the girls have already set off into the woods, failed to put up a tent, broken a nail and been visited by two mysterious kids and a woman.

Oh and been attacked by a portly tramp named John (Kent, stuntperson and hubbie of Barrett) who murders Teddi before carrying her off to his cave to eat.

Which is nice.

Sharon, in case you're interested escaped by jumping off a (small) cliff into a lake by the way.

Which is probably why they cast a stunt type person.

"To me!" "To you!"

Anyway as night (and the rain) continues to fall Steve and Charlie are still frantically searching for their lady friends but decide that because it's so wet to hide out in a cave till morning and it's here that they too come across (but not in a sexual way, well not yet) the weirdy beardy John who's just finished cooking Teddi and offers the pair a nibble, proclaiming that it's actually a deer.

As the trio tuck in, John begins to tell his tragic tale of woe and how he came to be living in a cave in the woods stinking of piss, you see it seems that a few years back when he worked as a traveling rubber nipples salesman, his - nameless because this film has a really healthy view of women - dear wife (Kelly in her only film role - surprise) spent her days shagging anyone who passed by the house.

Repair men, post men, the paperboy - you name it she let them put it in her which wasn't until one day John came home early to find her in bed with the refrigerator repairman who, bizarrely enough and after an uncomfortable scene reminisce of when my mum got caught with the Jehovah's Witness in the conservatory by my uncle Peter actually pulls on his trousers and does indeed proceed to fix the fridge.

That's your mum that is.

This wanton display of multitasking masculinity sends John over the edge and after beating his wife to death with a table lamp chases the fridge guy around the garden brandishing a variety of sharp edged gardening tools (and a bicycle) before gutting him on a lathe as his children - John Jr. (Pigeon who scarily went on to have a huge career and is best known for playing Freddy Lippincottleman in the hit teevee sitcom Silver Spoons as well as drumming with top pop combos MXPX and Reel Big Fish) and Jennifer (Burke, who may now be working as a customer Account Manager at Aaron’s Sales and Lease Corporation in Texas) look on in apathy.

From there on in he's been holed up in a cave with only his baseball cap and by now very stiff pants to his name.

Bless.

And on that note the boys unpack their sleeping bags and quickly fall asleep.

Which is what I wanted to do at this point thanks to the films 'leisurely' pace.

Less Grizzly Adams more slightly peeved Pete.

 

As morning dawns the pair wake to the sight of John standing over then licking his lips as he gently cradles his man package so making their excuses Steve and Charlie quickly pack up and head of to find the ladies soon finding their destroyed campsite and discarded belongings.

Because lets be honest, it's quite a short film.

"Oh Vic...I've fallen!"

Deciding that something terrible must have happened to cause the girls to leave their make up bags behind the pair split up to continue their search.

Meanwhile down on the riverbank Sharon is busy finding out more about the plot from the pair of spooky kids she met earlier, who it transpires are ghosts.

Fair enough.

It seems that getting bored with living in a cave with their deranged dad and living solely on wild berries and hikers  the pair killed themselves but are now trapped in limbo being chased by the ghost of their mother.

And this, coupled with marrying a whore caused John to turn cannibal.

No, really.

Man murders folk?

Blame a woman.

Or if that doesn't work blame his kids.

"Is it giro day?"

Realizing that the film is almost over the director decides to add a wee bit of excitement so to this end Steve falls down a hill and hurts his leg whilst Charlie stumbles around getting steadily sweatier and more simpering as he goes.

Just when all thought of absolutely anything entertaining happening is forever destroyed who should pop out from behind a tree but the ghost of the dead wife   who - quite politely for a dead slapper I reckon - asks him where her children are.

But as he goes to answer John too jumps out the bushes and attempts to stick his chopper in Charlie, causing ghost mum to vanish and our hero to experience a wee bit of chafing round the thigh area.

As the pair (slow) fight to the death John explains that he's not really a mentalist and only kills campers during the winter when it's too difficult to get to Asda to buy pork, which is OK then I guess.

And with that he drowns poor Charlie in the river.

Which given the state of the film so far is a mercy killing.

Dollar - The Pikey Years.

As John attempts to carry Charlie's body back to his man cave who should arrive but Sharon who, being a girl is quickly is overpowered by John (tho' it may have more to do with his onion breath than his strength) but just as he lunges in for the kill his ghostly weans turn up and beg him to let Sharon live.

And with that he lets her escape.

Will Sharon find Steve or will John go a bit mad again at the thought of lunching out on her tender thighs?

Will anything happen in the scant running time remaining to make watching this anything other than an utter waste of time?

Who knows/cares.

Not director/writer/tea boy Don Jones that's for sure.

From the man behind The Love Butcher, Sweater Girls and Schoolgirls In Chains (oh and who also did the sound on Switchblade Sisters and The Swinging Cheerleaders) comes probably one of THE most incoherently plotted, woodenly acted and crappily directed movies if not ever then definitely of the 80s.

But saying that at least it's in focus and does feature David Somerville 'singing' the fantastically cringe inducing "The Dark Side of The Forest" (with lyrics by Stan Fidel who wrote "Best of Friends" for Disney's The Fox And The Hound fact fans) over the credits so you win some, you lose some I guess.

But if you fancy 80 odd minutes of barely bargain basement gore effects, ghostly kids with haircuts that'd make even Jimmy Savile think twice, bizarro voice overs, a woman who looks like your auntie whoring it up on a camp bed and what seems like hours of footage of two guys arguing in/about traffic then The Woods may just be the film for you.

But I doubt it somehow.

Flick.

It's almost like Jones is purposely trying to scupper any chance the film has to shine, whether it be the almost DOA pacing, aimless wide shots of trees or just the entire nonsensical nature of the plot, at every turn just when you think something interesting might happen the film, like some drunken bloke stumbling home from the pub with a greasy kebab in hand,  just fumbles and staggers across the road before dropping meat onto its shoes and collapsing in an alley.

Probably to get bummed by a tramp in the early hours of the morning.

Only Jones wouldn't show that bit, he'd cut to an empty taxi rank round the corner.

Tho' he'd probably dub the sound of foxes playing in a garden over the footage just to stop you falling into a coma.

Scarily according to the cast he actually remortgaged his house to pay for this so either he was really fucking delusional or he really hated the wallpaper and reckoned that losing his home to the bank was a better option than just burning it down.

Put it in me!

But who knows perhaps the film is actually really meta and is in fact just playing with our preconceptions of what makes a good slasher - I mean we all accept Jason wearing a hockey mask or Leatherface wearing your mums mug so why not a terrifying mountain-based cannibal in a child's baseball cap and a mantit hugging T-shirt?

And sure after The Evil Dead we were spoiled with Raimi's patented 'shaky-cam' and wall to wall grue but who's to say that overexposed static shots of random trees and stock footage of traffic jams isn't the next leap forward in tree-based terror?

Plus after axes, chainsaws and fingerblades what's stopping a jam covered pen knife being a terrifying weapon of death?

Indeed maybe this film is actually cinematic genius and it's me who's wrong.


What the truth is we'll never know for sure cos I'm fucked if I'm going to lose any more sleep thinking about it.



Good day.


























*And I only know this as I own the entire run on DVD.....sad but true.

(egg) box frenzy

Rewatched - and re-reviewed - this t'other month for the first issue of Crypt of Cult magazine (still available to buy over at Amazon, it makes a brilliant lockdown read) and soon realised that it doesn't ever get the love it deserves.

A wee bit like your sister really.

Plus it's kinda scarily pertinent right now seeing as it has infections and exploding eggs in it.

Well it has infections, not seen any exploding eggs in Aldi recently.

Tho' I did come across some angry gammon in Morrison's.

No seriously, I overheard someone blaming remainers (oh and 'those Chinese') for Covid 19 last week....she was sweatily shouting how "There's a certain country that will have to pay!"

Hopefully she didn't mean pay for her cake bill cos if she did they'd be fucking bankrupt.

But I digress.

Something something borders something something immigrants something something taking back control something something blue passports etc.

So where do you start with such a review?

Of the film I mean not discussing the casual racism.

With a brief resume of the directors career methinks.

(I'm actually getting paid by the word for this one).

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

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

Tho' seeing as you're in lockdown right now there are three films in particular stand out from his resume that you should watch ASAP - the frankly indescribable Caroline Munro starring Argento/Three Mothers sequel/tribute The Black Cat, the Caroline Munro (again, does he have dodgy pics of her stashed away?)/David Hasslehoff space fantasy Starcrash and the bloody magnificent...

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

Dir: Luigi Cozzi (AKA Lewis Coates).

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shite in mah....oh."

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

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

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

Probably.

"How'd you like your eggs love?"

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

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

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

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

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

"He did WHAT in his cup?"

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

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

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

Now there's only one thing she can do.

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

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

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

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

But our heroes are being watched.

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

Your Gran's cum face. Possibly.

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

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

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

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

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

With his career catapulted into the stratosphere (sort of) with the success of Starcrash, director Luigi Cozzi decided that his follow up would also be a sci-fi epic and turned his dreamy eyes to Ridley Scott's film Alien for inspiration.

Luckily for him (and us) his producers agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But luckily not for making it.

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

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

I think not.

potato potato.

Took part in a lockdown-based online quiz a few nights back and this film got mentioned so thought I'd dig up this old review because:

A. It's a great film.

B. It's about science n stuff.

C. It saves me having to type up anything new.

Except this bit obviously.

Enjoy.

Nightmare City (AKA City of the Walking Dead, La Invasión De Los Zombies Atómicos, 1980).
Dir: Umberto Lenzi.
Cast: Hugo Stiglitz, Laura Trotter, Francisco Rabal, Mel Ferrer, some bouncy breasts and a few other body parts usually attached to people.

Dr. Anna Miller: Why don't you face it. There's no place for us to go. They're we too will be killed. I don't want us to die I don't want us to but there's nothing we can do. They're everywhere...
Dean Miller: [Dean slaps his wife and then kisses her] Stop it...

In a nameless city somewhere in 'Europe' (tho' from the state of the haircuts and trousers it looks like the West Midlands circa 1985) a terrible nuclear accident has sent the populace reeling into panic.

Bouffanted and bearded ace reporter Dean Miller (Stiglitz from Alcoholics Anonymous and that film where the boat capsizes and they eat a dog) is assigned to interview eminent scientist Otto Hagenbach (bless you) who just happens to be flying in from the accident site that very morning.

Lucky eh?

But when the plane arrives it contains not only the grey haired boffin but a cargo hold full of scum-faced tramps dressed in their grandad's old suits.

Sorry, I mean bloodthirsty, potato faced 'atomic zombies'.

'Atomic zombies' intent on murder!!

And a fair bit of tittie touching if the rest of the film is anything to go by.

"You chase me now!"

Whilst all this scary shite is going down (as you kids say) Mrs. Miller (Trotter from Only Fools and Horses) is busy making her rounds at the local hospital.

Don't worry, she works there. It's not like she's skulking about chasing ambulances.

But things are a mite strange there too as she realizes when visiting a young patient named Phil.

When our bubble haired heroine, trying to pass the time, innocently asks him "Well, how are you feeling today?"

His frankly worrying reply is "I feel like somebody who's waiting for the hatchet guy to chop off his head, doctor."

Which is nice, if delivered a little stiffly.

Perfect for your mum then.

To make matters spookier, another patient, this time a broken legged football loving wee boy, has been having nightmares about bad men cutting his leg off.

Could this be related?

Mel (not Kim).

Well there's no time to worry about such trivialities as meanwhile at a top secret army base, military top brass Major Holmes (Rabal, all rugged with a silver quiff and a sexy sculptress girlfriend young enough to be his granddaughters fetus) and General Murchinson (Mel "I was married to Audrey Hepburn and the alimony bill is forcing me to appear in utter shite for the remainder of my career" Ferrer) are discussing the breaking emergency.

Please join us for a fantastic piece of choice dialogue as the body of one of the attackers is being examined :

Murchison (obviously reading from cue cards): Your autopsy categorically excludes an extraterrestrial being. It's molecular structure clearly establishes him as a member of the human race. A paradox when you consider what they've been doing....

Donohue (a 'scientist'): The examination of the various tissue samples that we have taken from the body reveal a high level of radioactivity, far superior to the level normally tolerated by the human organism. In addition we have found more or less recent hyper-tissue regeneration.

Murchison (bored now): Can you make that a little simpler Colonel? Some of your colleagues may not have the same technical or theoretical background...

(what? a technical background in talking bollocks? does that exist?)

Donohue (he's making it up now): In other words this individual and others like him have been subjected to strong doses of atomic radiation which increase their physical capacities beyond the norm.

Holmes (in a way only a man of a certain age can): How far beyond the norm?

Donohue (he's on a roll!): It's impossible to say. But it is a fact that these cells, subjected to almost every treatment we know, have proven to be almost indestructible.

Holmes: In short it's a kind of superman…?

Donohue (very excitedly): Much more than that… the victims of these creatures are contaminated even if they only suffer minor injuries.....

Murchison (losing the will to live): Then they can reproduce themselves… say indefinitely?

Donohue (jumping up and down waving his hands like a loon): That more or less… is correct!

I'm not saying the dialogue is bad but my computer kept crashing in an attempt to stop me typing it.

Look at it....really LOOK AT IT, it's so banal that if you concentrate hard enough the words actually appear to melt into mush before seeping into your eyes and attempting to rot your brain.

And the whole fucking film is written in this 'style'.

It's like the celluloid equivalent of a prison buggery.

Minus the biting obviously.

People died for this.

Possibly.

Anyway, still with us?

Good because after this fantastically written exchange Murchison elects to put plan 'H' into effect (no idea what's wrong with A thru' G), giving his men the unforgettable order to "Aim for the brain".

The race is now on to save humanity.

And enough cash to get Stiglitz some cheap wine after shooting finishes.

Mr. Potato Head need love!

Can Dean persuade the station heads (and their bodies too) to cancel the pop hits and bouncy tits TV show 'Dance Party' and broadcast his warning to the city and still have time to rescue his wife?

Will Sheila the sculptor survive in the coal bunker?

Will Mrs. Miller (not the cult recording star, the doctor remember?) ever stop waxing philosophically about the situation or will Dean just slap her (and slap her and slap her) until she starts crying in the horrific realization that she's surround by a cast and crew of highly disturbed sociopaths and alcoholics whose only concerns are keeping their star sober and filling the screen with as many inopportune breast shots as possible?

But most importantly will the once great Mel Ferrer have to spend his twilight years in the hell that is the Italian 'B' movie industry?

No idea why but this artwork terrified me when they published it in Starburst.

Director Umberto Lenzi's warning against the dangers of science gone mad was (according to the great man himself) based on 'true events'.

That's right! Lenzi reckons this really happened and is actually proud of this film, hailing it his 'masterpiece' comparing it's plot to that of Jonathan Demme's Philadelphia for it's portrayal of the effects disease has on the populace.

The joke was on us, we thought we were watching a cheap and cheerful zombie movie, when Lenzi has actually produced an amazingly existential docudrama that could change lives and save our planet.

I mean we're not laughing now are we?

His off screen battles to complete his vision are well documented, from producer Luis Mendez refusing to let him cast a 'name' actor in the lead role of Dean Miller (Lenzi favoured either Franco Nero or Fabio Testi whereas Mendez insisted on a Mexican lead to appeal to the movies co-funders who eventually cast alleged lush and professional hairy woodsman Stiglitz) to what appears to be an imaginary 'female executive' forcing him to tone down the films many gore scenes.

"Oi Umberto! NO!"

Unfortunately (for Lenzi), by his usual cinematic standards the finished film is in fact utter shite.

But for us it's one of the greatest pieces of art ever produced.

Just ask Robert Rodriguez, he allegedly based his Planet Terror on this movie and we know how great that is.

From the moment the film begins echoes of Waiting for Godot reverberate around the whole production as the imagination of the director crashes headlong into the crushing reality of the films budget with Hagenbach's arrival  celebrated by covering the screen with a crimson hue only a cheap blood substitute can supply and characters just hang around, unable to do anything but await their final indignant ends.

"Touch my hairy face!"

The rampaging 'atomic zombies' are a triumph of crap over cash, looking for all the world as if their heads have been covered in PVA glue and then dipped in a bowl of potato peelings mixed with a liberal amount of dried shite and burrowing below the surface like some sleeping beast Lenzi's latent misogynism regularly bursts forth onto the screen as female character after female character are forced to trip over, whimper and lose their tops before being killed in a variety of increasingly sexualized scenes.

Fair play to the writers tho' who even when faced with the plot screaming to a halt halfway thru' bravely carry on by having Stiglitz and Trotter run aimlessly around the countryside with no other purpose than to occasionally bump into a group of infected killers then run away again.

But not before Trotter has been given (another) bloody good slap obviously.

It's like a horror version of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead but with more arse shots.

Trotter (a doctor don't forget) persuades the hairy one that a church is the best place to hide because the virus/plague/whatever won't enter the house of God.....Much to her (but not the audiences) surprise the church is full of spud-faced loons out for blood.

Mulder and Scully: the pikey years.

Exciting subplots include General Merchinson trying to get his daughter to the (relative) safety of the base whilst she'd rather go camping with her fella and the silver fox that is Major Holmes attempting to save his (almost pre-teen) girlfriend.

If I'm honest then the sight of the mahogany tanned and leathery faced Francisco Rabal running his tongue over the chest of someone young enough to be his (grand) daughter is probably the most unsettling and nightmarish thing in the whole movie meaning this image (and the sight of him in a scoop-necked too tight green 'army' t-shirt proudly displaying his curvy man-breasts) will stay with you long after the film has ended.

A leathery man yesterday.

And oh boy what an ending.

After everyone else seems to have died, the Millers escaped to a seemingly deserted fairground.

Suddenly they are surrounded by the infected....Dean and Anna head for safety atop a rollercoaster (?) the bad men in hot pursuit.

A helicopter appears on the horizon lowering a ladder the pair climb to safety, only for Mrs. Miller to lose her grip (on the ladder, not reality) and plummet to her death in a kind of floppy way only a shoddily made dummy can.

Dean screams and suddenly.....

Like I'd spoil it for you.

You'll just haveta go out and buy it.

And I know you want to even if you don't you filthy whores.

axe the family.

Not sure if this movie can be classed as part of the whole Coronovirus blogging thing I'm doing at the moment but I did watch it during lockdown last night and it did give me a headache.

The shitting blood may just be normal for a man of my age tho'.

A lady shopping in Glasgow yesterday.

Edge of the Axe (1988).
Dir: José Ramón Larraz (as Joseph Braunstein, go figure).
Cast: Barton Faulks, Christina Marie Lane, Page Moseley, Christina Lane, Fred Holliday, May Heatherly, Patty Shepard, Elmer Modlin, Joy Blackburn and Jack Taylor.

Insert memorable quote here....oh hang on there aren't any.

Welcome to the tiny Northern Californian community of Big Bear Lake - famous for its big bears, its, um lake and the world renowned Sparkle Car Wash.

And it's at the aforementioned Sparkle Car Wash where our story begins with the harsh yet strangely attractive nurse Mirna Dobson (Lane - but not the one who wrote Comfort and Joy: Cooking for Two and blogs about food obviously) who, after a hard day wiping old peoples arse and cleaning sick off walls has decided that her grimy but reliable Lincoln Mark VII LSC needs a good clean, so to this end pays the $3.60 for a drive thru (car) shampoo.

Unfortunately she never lives to see the sparkle of the by now spotless bonnet as halfway thru' the wash cycle a masked mentalist brandishing an axe appears from behind the giant brushes and hacks her to death.

"I'm sorry I have my woman's period."

After that wee bit of bloodshed it's time to start up the plot good and proper so we're quickly introduced to the human pipe-cleaner Gerald RR Martin (Oscar winning Coen Brothers film and star of Freeze and Future-Kill Barton Faulks, looking for all the world like Mark Hamill drawn from memory) - a geeky obsessed with computers who has recently moved to town and who lives in a huge potting shed owned by a beardy old bloke named Brock (Modlin, from loads of stuff including The Story of O 2 and Rosemary's Baby).

Reading this back I've realised that I'm giving these characters way more background than writers Joaquín Amichatis, Javier Elorrieta, José Frade and Pablo de Aldebaránever (yes, it took fucking four of them to write this) did but that's lock-down for you.

Anyway when not spending his time 'online surfing the interwebs' Gerald works alongside professional stud-muffin Richard Simmons (Mosely from such varied fayre as Quantum Leap, The Jigsaw Murders, What's Love Got to Do with It and Melrose Place as well as your Auntie Jean's bed) in his extermination business.
And it's whilst on the way to an extermination job at a local tavern (which it must be said appears to be made of matchsticks) that we find out a wee bit more in regards to everyone's character and motivation as well as discover the huge swathe of latent misogyny running thru' the script like Jimmy Savile running thru' a school shower block.

You see it appears that Richard is unhappily married to local businesswoman Laura (US born Eurotrash star Shepard who appeared in everything from Hannah, Queen of the Vampires to Slugs via the Terence Hill/Bud Spencer classic Watch Out We're Mad) who he admits to only marrying for her money because "She's way too old for anything else!" (the actress was 43 at the time) and whom he hates because she has male friends she does business with. Obviously - he surmises that because of this his habit of sticking his cock into anything female that moves - or doesn't move fast enough - is also her fault.

Because women.

"Is it in yet?"

And with that the pair arrive at the tavern where the owner has reported a bad smell (that surprisingly isn't related to Richard's attitude) in the basement.

A basement that scarily for viewers in The Scotland has a Tennent's Lager poster on the wall.

Can I can't?

 

Poking about in the dark our delightful duo soon come across (not in that way tho' with Richard's attitude to women I wouldn't be surprised) the rotting corpse of a missing barmaid named Mary West, whose body has been jammed into a cupboard alongside an old copy of Razzle and some old crisp packets.

Obviously the barman phones the local police who decide it'd be easier to say she killed herself before hiding in the cupboard and leave it at that.

She is only a girl after all.

Deciding that a beer or two is in order to calm their nerves after such a gruesome discovery, Richard and Gerald head over to the local lakefront bar where not only is Laura out fishing with her business buddy Christopher (genre God Taylor - seriously his CV is cinematic gold - Exorcismo, The Ghost Galleon, Dr. Jekyll vs. The Werewolf, Female Vampire, Marquis de Sade's 'Philosophy in the Boudoir' and the all time classic The Vampires Night Orgy among others) but Susan (Blackburn, best known for her stand out role as the Concession Girl in Anguish), the only barmaid in town that Richard hasn't fucked yet, is starting her afternoon shift.

Leaving Richard to rub his knees violently as Susan bends into the car to hand him his drink Gerald decides to head to the lounge for a few shots on the bars video game machine because if you remember he's a geek and this was the fashion.

Well, it was about 5 years previously but there you go.

That's not a joystick and she's not a real welder.

His high scoring prowess is soon spotted by the bars owner, the button-nosed Lillian (Lane in her only film role) and the pair soon bond over their mutual love of all things computer-based culminating in Gerald offering Lillian his old computer so that they can 'connect' online too.

Which is nice but let's be honest we're here for the killings and we don't have to wait long as, later that night after a few drinks and lewd suggestions in (another) local bar the town beautician cum prostitute Rita Miller Exterminators of The Year 3000 'star' Moro) is brutally murdered while walking along the railroad tracks.

This time the police are actually slightly concerned (well concerned enough to involve folk dressed like extras from a Thomas The Tank Engine fan film) but only because it means that their wives will start being suspicious that all the men are now staying in, even when they interview one of her main clients - the hammer carrying handyman Beardy Pete he's painted as the true victim and Rita as the evil seductress extorting money from the weak willed menfolk.

Seriously the film is less of a throwback to a bygone, more sexist era and more of a manifesto of mad misogyny that would do Trump proud.

And no-one, I mean no-one wears a bra.

It's like they were banned on set.

"Oh no!" said Thomas, "Sir Topham Hat's wife is a dirty whore!"

As all these bad murders continue so does Gerald and Lillian's burgeoning, stone wash clad romance, tho' Lillian is a wee bit concerned that Gerald's computer contains a list of the women killed so far but luckily he explains that he just likes collecting data for a laugh.

So that's OK then.

With a fairly short running time and more murders to fit in we've soon jumped forward to night-time where during a terrible storm another woman is attacked and killed by the mysterious mentalist.

Luckily tho' to differentiate this one from all the others it features some pigs in a barn.

And with that out of the way we can get back to the more important plotline regarding Richard's attempts to shag Susan on a boat.

Well we never know if he does or not as just as the pair start getting frisky the severed head of another victim bobs up in the water next to them resulting inscreams from Susan and many manly stares from Richard.

Well either that or he's holding in a really big shit.

Your mum looks nice tonight.

Realizing that they've killed a woman off-screen (which frankly just isn't on) it's full scream ahead for the next murder, which this time is of the - sensible shoed - leader of Lillian's church choir, Anna Bixby (Heatherly from Cannibal Apocalypse, where she was treated way better it must be said) who after returning home to find her dog bludgeoned to death is stalked around her house for a bit in the hope of creating some (any?) tension before having her fingers cut off and finally being hit repeatedly with a foam axe.

And if that wasn't enough the killer also trashes her fishtank.

Bastard.

All this murder isn't getting in the way of Lillian and Gerald's ever growing romance tho' (I mean it's only women getting killed, not real people after all) and the couple are wiling away the afternoon playing on a kids swing.

As grown adults are known to do obviously.

The to and fro motion has a strange effect on Lillian tho' who suddenly starts screaming "Charlie! Charlie!" before storming off in a huff.

Giving chase Gerald soon catches up with her and begs her to explain what's going on, turns out that she's just discovered that her cousin - the aforementioned - well screamed Charlie - has been recently released from a mental hospital following a head injury he received as a child when Lillian violently pushed him off a swing.

No, really.

Bobbins.

But that's not all, as Lillian suspects that it is in fact Charlie who is responsible for the killings.

Because reasons.

With the girlie hysterics over and done with the pair head back to Gerald's shed for a Cuppasoup and some crisps.

And maybe even a scotch egg if there are any in the fridge.

As the pair sit scoffing Lillian asks Gerald if she can use his computer to look up plastering course at the University of Portland as she's decided she no longer wants to be a pipe fitter, Gerald reckons being married to a plasterer would be pretty cool and leaves her to it as he goes to make some coffee.

Little does he realize tho' Lillian is actually looking up the names of local psychiatrists dealing with swing-based head trauma.

To be honest, reading this back it makes even less sense than when I watched it, which is pretty worrying.

Boris Johnson farted....and it smelled of egg. And shame.

With the climax lurching drunkenly into view it's time to go back to Laura and her 'friend' Christopher - partly because that subplot seems to have been forgotten about in the middle of all this woman hating but mostly because they're paying Jack Taylor as shed-load of cash for doing absolutely fuck all.

He is a legitimate actor you know.

Except get more and more drunk that is as poor Laura complains that her investments have gone wrong and she's now bankrupt.

Morally and monetarily if this film is anything to go by.

The pair leave the bar and Laura offers Christopher a run home but just as you think he's going to pull some smooth, sexy moves he actually pulls a dog blanket up from the floor and falls asleep before letting out a fart so noxious  that she crashes into a tree.

Stumbling into the woods to look for help she soon gets bored and returns to the car only to find Christopher's body gone and the mad axe murderer sitting in his place, she runs screaming, the killer runs after her, the cameraman tries to track them both in the dark and eventually the killer catches up with her and she dies.

Don't get too upset tho' remember she was old and her hubby only married her for her money so now she's skint it's probably for the best.

Or so the film would have us think.

I mean the next morning, Richard angrily turns up at Gerald's complaining not that Laura is missing but that the money out of their bank account is missing and when her body is found you can tell that all he wants is to search it for loose change.

And you're sure that in this script the police would let him.

Interestingly as soon as Christopher's body is discovered everything changes and the local police suddenly decide that there's a killer on the loose that must be found.

Hang on, I know I said that there was a (very) thinly veiled streak of misogyny  running thru' the movie but I may be mistaken, maybe they're just all gagging for a prime piece of man-ass and the ladies were in the way?

Whichever it is the police find a badge from the Lillian's dads bar on Christopher's lapel so decide to head over there as soon as enough time has passed for Lillian to hear noises in the bar as she's home alone.

Taxi for Castlemilk.

Upon investigating the aforementioned noise, she is surprised to find - a really sweaty - Gerald skulking about behind the bins.

Terrified for her life - and no doubt for her career -  Lillian angrily accuses him of actually being her cousin Charlie, who has return to extract his revenge for the terrible swinging incident.

Moving slowly toward her Gerald begins to explain that after researching her background on his computer (as you do) he has discovered that Charlie is actually a figment of Lillian's imagination - it was actually her that fell off the swing and banged her head causing a spate of mentalism that required her to be hospitalized.

No really.

But if that wasn't enough it turns out that each of the victims were either hospital employees involved with Lillian's recovery or women who had attempted to shag her dad.

The new Erasure video looks a bit shit.

Being female and mental (or is it just female?) Lillian attempts to kill Gerald with a handy axe before running into the carpark with Gerald in hot pursuit shouting "I love you Lillian!" just as the police turn up.

Seeing Lillian jiggling and crying and Gerald not jiggling and sweating they decide to shoot him dead.

Just because that's how apprehending folk works in America obviously.

As the police secure the crime scene, the sheriff consoles Lillian with a big hug not noticing her "I'm a bit mad me!" smile to camera....

It has to be said that by far the most terrifying and disturbing thing about Edge of the Axe is that it was directed by José Ramón Larraz, the masterful Spanish film maker behind such classics as the fang-tastically erotic lesbian vampire cum National Trust camping advertisement that is Vampyres thru' to the equestrian-bothering The Coming of Sin (which still has one of the scariest film posters of all time) and the pyscho-sexual scare-fest Symptoms - all of which  tended to feature acts of startling - and disturbing - sexuality and wanton acts of violence set against an idyllic backdrop of everyday British (or in the case of The Coming of Sin) or Spanish life.

So fuck knows what he was thinking when he decided to direct this.

His usual interesting take on the power of female sexuality is replaced by basic unreserved misogyny, the flirty and confident (and sometimes uncomfortably damaged) females of his previous films are replaced with denim clad, bra-less stereotypes of whores, harridans and faceless bimbos whereas the men strut around with permanent erections and too tight jeans and are shown to be straight up bullies and sex beasts unlike the pitiful testosterone-fueled caricatures of his other work - spending the whole film as they do fucking, flirting and complaining their way thru' a plot so threadbare as to almost disappear in a puff of in-consequence long before the frankly ludicrous reveal.

And it's the cheap laziness of everything on show that, if anything, is what saves it from being just downright offensive.

I mean it took hours to even remember anything of consequence that happened in it - and I'd taken notes. 

Anulka Dziubinska and Marianne Morris - not in this film.

Put it this way, when the most memorable bit of a slasher movie is the use of a wide-angled fish-eye lens during a funeral service (for no other reason it seems than to show up the pores on Jack Taylor's nose) then you know you're in trouble.

It's almost like he sobered up at this point just long enough to remember what he was doing then quickly fell back into a coma whilst leaning on the camera enough to point it vaguely in the direction of the actors.

And I use the term 'actors' loosely.

I mean come on they even pronounce Icarus incorrectly.

Grimmer than your dad's post-divorce dating history and flimsier than your aunties baby-doll nightie she wears when you visit Edge of The Axe is at least fairly short which is a blessing.

Unlike this lockdown which means that there'll be more like this to come.

Joy.