ice to see you, to see you...ice!

Still feeling the cold after my weekend 'trading' at Horror Con so thought I'd stick with the snow-based scares.

You're welcome.

Snow Beast (2011)

Dir: Brian Brough (not Clough).

Cast: John Schneider, Jason London (who appears to feature on this blog more times than is healthy), Danielle Chuchran, Paul D. Hunt and Kari Hawker.

"Back to bed everyone!"

Sexy wildlife researcher cum single dad Jim Harwood (Dukes of Hazzard star and Superman's dad Schneider) is looking forward to his yearly trip to Canada (yes you can son) where he and his erstwhile colleges spend a month studying the rather splendid Canadian Lynx.

Unfortunately this year he has to drag his wayward teenage daughter, Emmy (fright haired Chuchran, best known for playing Thing 1 in The Cat In The Hat) along seeing as she's been suspended from school for dyeing a wee bit of her hair purple, fighting and tossing off the male teachers for pennies.

OK I lied about the last bit but she does look the type.

Anyway, arriving on site Jim is greeted not only by his fellow researchers Rob (Hunt from, um loads of other stuff directed by Brian Brough) and Marci (Hawker from all the same stuff as Hunt) but  the news that there are absolutely no Lynx's anywhere to be found in the whole area.

Which is fairly odd I'm guessing.

Being the geeky tech' guy, Rob reckons that they've all become camera shy whilst Marci just stands around wistfully sighing every time Jim wanders by.

Jim reckons the best thing to do is to wait till morning then go outside and maybe have a look for them.

Obviously no-one else has thought of this (you can see why Jim's in charge) so our merry band excitedly settle down to dinner whilst making a note of things they'll need the next day.

You know the type of stuff; shoes, a hat, trousers etc.

All except Emmy that is, who's too busy embarrassing Rob by flirting with him and wiggling her (admittedly peachy for a schoolie) arse at the camera.

It's gonna be a long four weeks.

Emmy: Arse of a strip queen, hair of a scarecrow and a mooth made for shite-in. perfect.

Meanwhile back on the tourist packed slopes a number of vacationers have been mysteriously vanishing in a daze of CGI blood and growling. Ginger lard arsed forestry bloke Gibbons (Thomas looking like Harry Knowles slightly less attractive - and far less kickable - brother) reckons they've all just run away without telling anyone but the rugged newbie Ranger Barry (B-Movie monster battling beefcake London) is convinced that someone or something - oh go on then someone in a badly dyed monkey suit - is making short work of a motley collection of snowboarders and overweight extras pretending to be ultra-fit skiers.

And he intends to crack the case with or without his partners help.

Which is lucky seeing as his sweet sodden sidekick is more interested in cases of cakes than anything else.

"Put it in me!"

Back at the research house and everyone is tucked up in bed, unfortunately our gang are being kept awake by a (fairly) monstrous growling noise coming from outside.

Wide awake and shivering with a mix of fright and mild apathy our merry band nervously approach the window to hopefully get a wee look at what could possibly be making such a noise outside.

Coming from Glasgow I automatically assumed that it was either a tramp or a drunken couple of copulating Neds.

"We're ootside ya windae rapin' yer bin!"

 As Jim (being the headline star) lowly moves his trembling hand toward the curtain the noises suddenly stop.

Without a moment’s hesitation and in the most nonchalant manner ever, he announces “Back to bed, everyone.”

And guess what?

Surprisingly everyone does as they're told.

Unfortunately the next morning a mixture of lack of sleep and Emmy's harsh face is causing tempers to fray, poor Rob is sweatingly concerned about his cameras and there's a wee bit of sexual tension in the air between Jim and Marci.

Just imagine Coronation Street with an added big monster.

And snow obviously.

Anyway it's in this very snow in fact that Rob, whilst fixing one of his aforementioned cameras manages to fall into a big hole containing huge piles of bloody bones and half a snowboarder much to Jim's amusement.

And if that wasn't enough Emmy (in between griping and frowning) has noticed a big white - well more a kinda yellowy piss stained - monkey jogging merrily along towards our studly duo.

Monsta!

"Are you looking at my bra?"

Escaping in the nick of time - and on a snowmobile - Jim and Rob are now pretty certain that the beast is the reason for the disappearance of all the Lynx in the area.

and it's probably why there are no actors of quality left in the local vicinity  either.

As our merry quintet decide what to do next - Jim, Elly and Rob want to go home, Marci wants to go out and make friends with the beast - Ranger Barry has decided to head out into the snow to see if he can uncover any evidence of foul play or big monsters.

but as all this inane chat and navel gazing continues the dreaded snow beast is still on the loose.

And hungry for fresh meat.

Unfortunately for certain members of the cast tho' he'll settle for cardboard.

Not to be confused with the 1977 made for teevee Yvette Mimieux starrer Snowbeast, this 2011 re-imaging is quite possibly the most terrifying Sasquatch based horror movie starring an ex-Duke of Hazzard that you will see.

With it's tiny cast, minimal settings and comfortably cliched script from Brittany (Scents and Sensibility, Christmas Angel) Wiscombe, Snow Beast throws convention to the wind by proudly displaying it's (frankly magnificent) monster suit at every given opportunity, whether it's stumbling menacingly around the trees like a drunk trying to find it's way home or camply springing out from behind bushes bearing it's tanned man tits whilst roaring, the creature is a sight to behold and probably the first time I've seen a director embrace the man in a monster suit in such a non-apologetic way since the John Guillermin remake of King Kong.

And the film is all the better for it, playing out like a classic monster B-movie of yesteryear, no nudity, no swearing and minimal blood-letting, just a very tall man in a fur coat and knock off Wampa mask.

What's not to love?

A piece of cinematic genius yesterday.

Honestly, every single second the Snow Beast is on the screen is another moment of happiness made possible by knowing that somewhere out in the big bad world there are still people intent on making little movies featuring faceless stuntmen dressed up as huge furry monsters.

And I for one salute them.

An essential viewing experience and most likely the best film called Snow Beast ever released.

ziggy sunburst.

Been out at horror con this weekend punting my wares like a cheap Parisian whore so didn't have time to write any proper reviews.

Which to be honest really doesn't matter with this seeing as you can probably already guess the plot.

Enjoy.

Arachnoquake (2012).
Dir: Griff Furst.
Cast:  Tracey Gold, Edward Furlong, Bug Hall, Ethan Phillips,
Megan Adelle, Gralen Bryant Banks, Dane Rhodes, Paul Boocock, Skyy Moore, Tiara Gathright, Olivia Hardt, Grant James and Lucky Johnson.

Jumbo spiders, some as big as dwarves!

A massive (off-screen) nighttime earthquake has cause even more massive CGI holes to appear in and around New Orleans (and not, I repeat not Orville, Texas as it says on the back of the box) and from these holes crawl an army of mutant albino arachnids.

Using sonar to detect their prey, these multi-legged monsters can also shoot web strong enough to capture a man, spit fire and walk on water.

Oh yes, and due to a lack of continuity between the computer artists they appear to be getting bigger and bigger depending what scene they're in.

"Laugh now!"

Anyway, that's the monsters dealt with so let's meet the human cast, first up is our hero for the next 90 minutes, a young ne'er do well named Paul (Hall, from the Robert Hays comedy series Kelly Kelly) who spends his nights drinking and shagging and his days helping out with the family tour business alongside his Hobbit like dad Roy (Star Trek: Voyagers Phillips) and his blonde 'n' buxom sister Petra (Hot Hot Los Angeles star Hardt, best known for snogging American Horror Story's Alexandra Breckenridge in an episode of the Courteney Cox TV show Dirt).

It appears that due to his excess drinking, sodomizing and habit of losing the tour boat, Paul's dad has decided that if anything else at all goes wrong he's going to kick poor Paul out on his ear.

His last chance of redemption?

Take out the tour bus that's been booked by teachers from a Houston school, in town for a girl on girl baseball match.

Sounds legit.

Furlong, using a matchstick defends the Corgi bus from normal sized spiders yesterday.

Unfortunately the class assistant is stuck in bed covered in webbing leaving biology teacher Katelynn (ex Growing Pains star and uber MiLF Gold) and her kids Annabel (the long faced Adelle) and Justin (Moore) to their own devices whilst dad Charlie (the one mighty Furlong, now looking younger - and considerably shorter -  than his kids) has to drive the Baseball babes back to Houston.

It's a terrible job but someone has to do it.

Deciding to make the best of it, the family decide to take the tour themselves alongside a motley crew of wannabe spider fodder including a grumpy old man (James) and the Ghetto-tastic newly weds Glenn and Tina (Johnson and Gathright).

"It's behind you!"...Well it will be in a couple of months when we've added it to the background.

As the tour begins our bus riding 'rachnid snacks soon become aware of the mysterious holes in the road and the tiny eight legged terrors emerging from them.

Tho' due to budgetary constraints you can catch glimpses of local residents going about their every day lives in the background, totally oblivious to the drama unfolding on the streets.

Spiders crawl across roofs and passed cars as commuters head to and from work, families enjoy a picnic and shopper look for bargains. it's almost as if only a chosen few can see the eight-legged beasts.

Either that or the production was so threadbare they couldn't afford to close of the roads for shooting.

"Monsta!"

Will our heroes survive the giant spider situation?

Will they make it to Roy's boat in time?

Will Paul take control and become the hero the movie deserves or will he end up just so much spider snack?

And just how many times can you be distracted by the lead actresses frankly pendulous freckly mommy breasts during one movie?

Even tho' they're quite securely held in place by a V neck top.

Only one way to find out.

Font.

All hail the multi talented actor/director Griff Furst (Chase from the fantastic Monsterwolf), beaming to us from a world where the 50's monster flick never died and proving with his latest flick, the shoestring shocker Arachnoquake that you can, in fact polish a turd.

I mean come on, when a movie's DVD sleeve gets the plot wrong you know you're in trouble and when Edward Furlong turns up with the obvious DT's and the haunted look a lost child trapped in a hotel room about to be horribly abused by a hooded bad man you know there's something amiss and the whole endeavor should by rights be utterly devoid of any entertainment value.

But guess what?

Arachnoquake is actually really enjoyable.

Mike Pence's attempt to change the batteries in Melania's vibrator were doomed to failure.

True the spiders look like they've been rendered on a Casio calculator by a blind boy and everything is shot in uncomfortable close-ups to disguise the fact that no-one bothered to seek shooting permission but the cast are great with enough one liners, spider attacks and humour (mostly intentional but with a few unintentional thrown in) to totally win you over.

Plus it's probably the only movie I know of where the hero dons a deep sea diving suit in order to enter a giant monster and tie a stick of dynamite to it's intestines before failing out it's arse.

Need I say more?

fall out boy.

Day 24 of the whole sorry 31 Days of Horror thing and we're off to Russia for a well deserved holiday.

Or is that horrorday?

Or just utter shiteday?

Sorry that doesn't make any sense but if the film maker can't be bothered why should i?


Chernobyl Diaries (2012).
Dir: Bradley Parker.
Cast: Jesse McCartney, Jonathan Sadowski, Devin Kelley, Olivia Taylor Dudley, Nathan Phillips, the wonderful Ingrid Bolsø Berdal and Dimitri Diatchenko.

Have you heard of extreme tourism?

Vacant faced American nice guy Chris (McCartney, the voice of Theodore in the Alvin and The Chipmunks movies - seriously I couldn't make this shit up), his terrifyingly breasted girlfriend Natalie (Chillerama's Dudley) and their plain (as in not blonde and with natural boobs) friend Amanda (Kelley from teevee's Covert Affairs) are enjoying a summer break traveling thru' Europe which, as all our American readers will know is a small country near London,  just outside Paris, France and ruled by Queen Angela Dorothea Merkel II of Englandshire.

That's the geography out of the way so let's crack on with the plot.

Quickly taking in the sights during the credit sequence (because we all know there are only about six things of interest to see in Europe) our merry band decide to stop for a few days in Kiev, (that'll be the Ukraine fact fans) in order to visit Chris's bad boy brother, Paul (Sh#t My Dad Says' Sadowski) before carrying on to Moscow where Chris intends to propose to Natalie atop the Eiffel Tower.

Aaaah how romantic.

Anyway, after a night on the town to show how wacky 'n' cool they all are Paul suggests that to make the holiday (sorry 'vacation') one to remember they should all sign up for one of local sexy man Yuri's (the fantastic Diatchenko) extreme tours.

Seeing as the Urban Exploring one has sold out and the Hitman tournament isn't for another year or so our cool dudes and dudettes decide to take a day trip to the abandoned town of Prypiat which sits in the scary - and oh so slightly radioactive - shadow of Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant.

Nothing like milking a real-life human tragedy for entertainment is there?

Prypiat: A local town for local people.

Also joining our funky foursome are the comedy accented Norwegian Zoe (Hellfjord's bowl haired babe Bolsø Berdal who's obviously been kidnapped and forced to make this against her will) and her swoonsome (and unwashed) Australian beau' Michael (Phillips from Wolf Creek).

Things don't start too well tho' when not long after starting on their adventure, Yuri's van is refused entry into the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone checkpoint due to what the guards explain are 'secret manoeuvres' but not even the might of the Russian army is going to stop Yuri showing his clients a good time.

Or even a giant mutant rubber fish or two.

Heading back toward town, our dishy driver takes a sneaky shortcut thru' the woods and within no time at all (look it only runs at an hour and twenty five minutes - be thankful for small mercies) the group arrive at the abandoned city which, if I'm honest looks spookily like Glasgow city centre on a Sunday morning.

But with fewer burned out buildings obviously.

They may be all shits and giggles now but just wait till the radioactive buggery starts...

After an afternoon visiting deserted schools, rundown fairgrounds and moldy chip shops Yuri decides to take our merry band to see the highlight of the tour, the upper floor of an abandoned block of flats from where they can view the infamous Chernobyl arc reactor (number 4).

And get chased by a CGI bear.

Preparing to leave the site, Yuri is fairly upset to discover that the wires in his van appear to have been chewed on by someone mistaking them for liquorice  and that his radio wont work.

By that I mean his two-way radio not the one tuned to T.A.T.u. FM.

As night falls and the sweet sounds of those risque Russian rude girls fades into the distance our backpacking band are sure that they can hear strange noises in the distance, Yuri is convinced that it's a pack of wild dogs joining in the chorus of All The Things She Said but the others aren't convinced.

It's more tuneful for one thing.

Being manly types (and possibly hoping the band themselves are outside) Yuri, armed with his trusty potato gun alongside Chris go out to investigate.

A load more Russian arse yesterday.

Shots and screams are heard causing Paul to man up and attempt a rescue, only to return seconds later with a whimpering simpering Chris.

It appears that the poor boy has had his leg bitten by an unknown assailant.

Or one of the aforementioned creatures.

The canine type that is not Lena Katina or Yulia Volkova obviously.

Tho' let's be honest the thought of being bitten by Lena Katina - especially in the passenger seat of a canary yellow Volkswagen Passat parked in an Asda carpark after a kebab and a can of Irn Bru - is something we can only dream of.

But I digress.

Lena Katina - Volkswagen Passat not shown.

 

Anyway the next morning - in an attempt to get away from Chris' near constant moaning - Paul, Michael and Amanda decide to go looking for Yuri, following  a handy trail of blood to a creepy underground shopping centre where they soon come across what remains of their jolly driver.

And with Yuri gone the group have lost their only means of escape.

Plus the movie has lost it's only believable and likeable character.

Frankly they're fucked.

Beware! Yuri's van is NOT full of sweets.

Returning quickly to the van, our tiresome trio plang to hike to the nearest checkpoint for help.

Natalie not content with letting her boyfriend be the groups whiny bitch starts crying and pleading them to take Chris along but one glimpse of her slapped arse of a face convinces the others to leave the pair behind.

Which is probably the best decision that anyone involved has ever made up to this point.

"Put it in me!"

Making it as far as the car park the group are lucky enough to find the spares they need for Yuri's van as well as a bullet riddled bus with a couple of torches in the glove box and a bloody uniform stuck to the seat.

Stealing the torches (but obviously leaving the uniform) our heroes decide to head back and repair the van only to end up getting chased by a couple of angry dogs meaning that the 10 minute walk back to Chris and Natalie ends up taking about 16 hours.

And that doesn't even include the precious minutes wasted when Michael falls into a small pond and is attacked by a fish.

Finally returning to the van, everyone is (fairly) shocked to find it smashed into tiny metal pieces and lying on it's roof (see? I told you it was like Glasgow), within the wreckage is Natalie's video camera which reveals that she and Chris were attacked by a group of ball headed, shaggy haired, eczema covered tramps.

But alas there's absolutely no footage of her jumping around with her tits out.

C'mon, I mean what kind of home movie is this?

Natalie farted and it smelled of shame. And eggs.

Paul, coming over all heroic (tho' not over Michael’s scraggy beard unfortunately) decides to mount a rescue party but only succeed in waking up even more tramps convincing our luckless band to beat a hasty retreat.

Poor Natalie meanwhile spends these tension packed minutes getting rescued then recaptured whilst everyone else points torches at various small children that appear and disappear without warning.

As this exciting* game of cat and mouse races toward it's conclusion our mud soaked pals are whittled away one by one, first Michael is dragged away by his skinny beard and then poor underwritten Zoe is tossed off a ladder, leaving
Paul and Amanda to navigate a series of ever more twisty passages finally emerging into the Chernobyl power plant itself.

Which is a wee bit unlucky seeing as the place is more radioactive than one of Godzilla's stools.

Godzilla's poo: Liable to burn your eyebrows off.

This becomes obvious when both Paul and Amanda’s faces start melting, which frankly is much better than their up to now dirt and tear smeared look.

As they make their way hurriedly to the exit the pair stumble upon Natalie's prone corpse propping open a door like a drunk teenager on a Saturday night binge (tho' to be fair her pants aren't round her ankles) and after stumbling past her and out out into the moonlight find themselves surrounded by a gaggle of Russian military personnel.

Are our terrified twosome safe?

Will their unsightly skin rashes ever clear up?

Or will we be subjected to the final indignity of a sub-par Twilight Zone ending where Amanda, having seen too much is locked up in a room full of big faced mutants forever?

Go on, guess.

Imagine if you will a world where a group of European film makers decided to make a horror movie based around the 9/11 attacks, where a group of tourists visiting Ground Zero are attacked and killed by a band of survivors who, after being trapped underground for ten years have mutated into cannibalistic mutants.

Or one where a group of inbred Holocaust survivors, living in the tunnels under Auschwitz since the end of the war, systematically stalk and slash a group of teens because the all have blond hair?**

Too sick? Too crass?

Not if you're Oren Peli, creator of the bizarrely popular Paranormal Activity series of movies, which after an admittedly enjoyable first film descended into even more and more ludicrous inbred sub-plotting set in ever increasingly sized houses.

Proof if any is needed that you can indeed flog an increasingly decomposing horse.

As for Chernobyl Diaries, surely someones taste monitor should have started bleeping the minute the title was mentioned.

Either that or you have the courage of your convictions name it "Attack of The Funny Foreign Cancer Sufferers" and be done with it.

Or did they just think no-one would remember the disaster?

OK Mr. Peli, I dare you to make a movie of this next.

Maybe, just maybe if it were any good it could be forgiven for such a lapse in taste but frankly it's not and it can't.

Tho' Peli, being a cutting edge and confrontational kinda guy must think that there are no boundaries when it comes to entertainment, so if any readers know  of any personal tragedies he or his family have been thru' feel free to get in touch and maybe we can make a movie about that.
He obviously wont mind.









































*that's irony by the way.

** Actually scratch that one, it pretty much like a pitch Oren Peli may have already made.

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.

 

blobby sands.

Bloody hell this years 31 Days of Horror appears to be cursed, not only has my hard drive died meaning I've lost virtually all my work in progress (gah) but I've spent the weekend having the worse case of the shivering sharts that I've ever experienced.

Maybe I should give up now.

Anyway whilst crawling to and from the toilet I noticed that I seemed to be leaking a mix of bad oil and sand from my (albeit peachy) arse which I took as a sign to watch a wee bit of beach-based horror, partly cos I love Blood Beach so much but mainly because I have a thing for Hayden Christensen's moving speech about sand being 'coarse and irritating' in Attack Of The Clones.

In fact it's my favourite scene in any Star Wars film and packs a real emotional wallop.

The Sand (2015).
Dir: Isaac Gabaeff.
Cast: Brooke Butler, Cleo Berry, Cynthia Murell, Dean Geyer, Meagan Holder, Mitchel Musso, Hector David Jr., Nikki Leigh, Etalvia Cashin and Jamie Kennedy.

"I don't like sand. It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."

It's spring break time and, as is the way of such things a large group of fit, tanned twenty-somethings are 'partying down' on a beach to generic dancey-trance bollocks.

The boys (well the hot ones) flex and show their muscles whilst actress cum model Nikki Leigh (being the only cast member with six - at least - Playboy photo shoots behind her) - in a pitch perfect portrayal of beach babe Marsha - gets her tits out.

Whilst all this drunken debauchery is going down partners in crime (but not by the look of one of their waistbands partners in cakes) Vance (David Jr.) and man mountain Gilbert (Berry) stroll into the party zone with what looks like a massive green, gooey testicle that they've come across (which would explain the slime) further up the beach.

Undeterred by such strange sights the party continues but not until all the guests have put their phones in a bag in case anyone gets filmed doing anything foolish.

Hopefully a monster wont attack them or something similar cos that means that they wont be able to call for help.

But what are the chances?

Do you remember chalk hearts melting on a playground wall. ... By the way didn't I break your heart? ... Kaylee is it too late to say I'm sorry?

Anyway, as the sun rises on a new day copper-bottomed cutie Kaylee (Butler who will be our heroine for the next ninety minutes) and mousey Mitch (Musso channeling a nervous hamster) awaken to find themselves cuddled up in the lifeguard station, whilst Kaylee's on/off boyfriend Jonah (Geyer) is happily snoozing in his car alongside the sultry Chanda (Holder, daughter of Slade singer Noddy), the aforementioned Vance and his girlfriend Ronnie (the scarily pillowed yet always watchable Murell from How I Met Your Mother).

Got that?

Good because these are the folk we're meant to be rooting for during the film.

Seriously it's like the bland leading the bland.

Luckily the director has decided to add a wee bit of colour to the proceedings by not only having Vance's portly pal Gilbert trapped in a barrel but persuading Nikki to keep her top off whilst lying on a table.

So we're all winners if I'm honest.

Well except the other party goers obviously because they've all disappeared leaving behind a collection of sleeping bags, used condoms and beer cans.

Hmmm.
 
Whilst shouting to each other from their various locales and being dazzled by the sun glistening on Marsha's admittedly stunning thighs, Kaylee is surprised to see a (children's clockwork) seagull first getting stuck to, then sucked under the sand by forces unseen.

Or at least forces unseen till the CGI is added later.

But there are more important things afoot like who stole Marsha's bikini top?

And how much longer will the director justify shooting so many teasing glimpses of her rosy nipples?

Not too long it seems as our bouncy babe, bored with the feeling rough, hard wood rubbing against her pert arse steps off the table only to find herself stuck to the sand in much the same way as the unfortunate bird.

Vance, coming over all heroic (but obviously thinking of coming elsewhere) jumps out of the car in order to help Marsha - and hopefully cop a feel - but he too ends up stuck to the sinister sand.

Their friends can only watch and emote (badly) as the pair disappear beneath the beach in an onslaught of low quality CG.

Nikki Leigh - Rosy nipples not shown.

Whilst all this snot-nosed screaming is going down Mitch - being the geeky type - is much more interested in the fact that the giant bollock that was dragged to the party earlier appears to have cracked open (or 'hatched' if you will) and quickly concludes that whatever was inside must have burrowed under the sand and killed all their pals.

And it looks like it's still there and ready for seconds.

Following Mitch's lead - and remembering that she's the heroine - Kaylee uses a packet of recently thawed hot-dogs to garner how big the creature actually is.

No, really.

Realising that it's only really the size of an average garden, Jonah reckons that he can use a couple of his surfboards to makes a bridge to reach the table that Marsha was sleeping on, giving him access to her discarded handbag but more importantly a chance to put on her make-up and hopefully confuse the creature enough to allow him to run for help.

Or something.

Unfortunately the creature gets wise to his plan and sneakily moves one of the boards causing Jonah to slip and giving the beast an opportunity to slash his buff, hairless chest causing major chafing and a nasty rash.

Ouch.

It's not a total loss tho' as Jonah soon notices that the creature appears to be keeping away from the fire-pit and this, coupled with it's inability to smoke fags seems to indicate that it fears 'the fire'.

How original....I wonder if the book of matches Kaylee pocketed earlier may come in useful at some point?

After what seems like an eternity of fuck all happening, Ronnie and Chanda remember that the phones are actually in the boot (or trunk as our American cousins call them) of the car and decide to make a half-arsed and ill- thought thru' attempt to retrieve them.

Unfortunately this results in very little suspense but does culminate in Ronnie getting her fingers stuck in the boot door meaning we get loads of shots straight down her bikini top as she writhes around in agony.

Which is actually quite pleasant and vaguely erotic if I'm honest.

"Are you looking at my bra?"

But the fun and games are soon are soon brought to a standstill (or a sandstill if you will) by the arrival of Alex, the friendly neighbourhood beach patrol guard (king of the comedy japesters Kennedy appearing for beer money) who assumes that the group are on drugs and proceeds to take the piss out of them as the friends look on confused as to why the sand hasn't eaten him yet.

Maybe the creature is a fan of  Malibu's Most Wanted?

I mean someone has to be.

Kaylee soon realises it's because he has a shit, stick-on beard...no hang on I mean it's because he's wearing shoes (but come on admit it, my reason is as plausible) but none of this matters as in a fit of pique Alex drops his keys and when he attempts to pick them up, ends up stuck too.

Using his trusty pepper spray he temporarily confuses the creature and attempts to drag his arm free of the sand only to find an ill-matched CGI stump pulsing and ejaculating thick red paint in its place, the shock of which causes him to fall backwards into the sand and straight to his death.

Luckily Kaylee manages to grab his pepper spray in the ensuing carnage so it's not all bad.

Except for Alex obviously.

And anyone hoping that the visual effects would be the movies saving grace.

Mitch, now feeling kinda wired and realising that if he saves everyone he's bound to get at least a sympathy shag decides to attempt to reach Alex's truck by putting on a pair of flip-flops, spraying his feet with the pepper spray before wrapping them up in towels and making a run for it.

Which as plans go isn't too bad if I'm honest.

It's a pity then that his balance is so shite that he falls over a banister and falls into the sand on his first attempt to catch a towel thrown by Chandra.

And it's not even her fault for throwing like a girl.

Suffice to say Mitch dies in possibly the most clumsy use of computer effects I've ever had the misfortune to sit thru'.

Truly horrific just not in the way the director intended.

Hopefully.

"Shite in mah mooth!"

Kaylee, realising that the sooner she does something the sooner it'll all be over, decides to take charge and gets Chanda to construct a makeshift bridge out of the broken pieces of banister left lying around in order to reach Jonah and make up with him.

Or something.

But first there's the small matter of Ronnie's fingers to deal with.

Oh yes and the fact that Gilbert has started to melt into the bin and his oozing wounds have alerted the beast to his presence.

It's all go isn't it?

Will Kaylee, Chanda and Ronnie make it off the beach alive?

Will Gilbert spend the rest of his life trapped in a trashcan eking out money as an Oscar The Grouch impersonator at kids parties?

Will Jonah recover from his wounds?

Will you make it to the movies end without losing the will to live or at the very least bladder control?

And will you ever again pray that Jeffrey Bloom was in the directors chair?

The illustration of the monster on the poster is actually more impressive than the one in the film. Fact.

Wild haired production designer cum director Isaac Gabaeff's (bless you) creature feature has all the ingredients of a killer 'B' movie, it's unfortunate then that it squanders everything with a meandering plot, a total lack of engaging characters and a distinct lack of any tension whatsoever.

What it does have is a group of attractive twenty-somethings in very few clothes talking at each other for ninety minutes whilst a cluster of badly rendered worms attempt to make you think that they're in the same scenes as everyone else.

Oh yes and a fat, obnoxious 'comedy' black man stuck in a barrel due to his enormous girth and swearing a lot.

And a totally unnecessary and overlong cameo by Jamie Kennedy that does nothing but prove the fact that Gabaeff alongside writers Alex Greenfield (the writer behind WWE Smackdown! - go figure) and Ben Powell had no idea as to whether they were making a comedy or a straight up horror before deciding to make neither and just hope that the sheer amount of bouncy young breasts on show would suffice.

 

Cynthia Murell, up the casino, Blackpool, 1998.....YESCH.

 



Which is a shame if I'm honest because The Sand has all the elements of a fairly scary movie and with a better script and a lot less lazy CGI could have been a late night classic in the making.

As it is it's just there.

And it's a shame because the genuinely great female trio of Butler, Berry and - especially - Murell deserve better.

As do we.

I'd file it under 'must try harder' but honestly it'd be more apt to have it under  'try'.

Or just bury it on the beach and forget about it.

silicone valley high.

Another (31) day(s of horror), another mutant shark movie.

So who'll surrender first?

Me or the folk that keep producing movies in this quality sub genre?

I blame The Meg and it's box office bonanza myself.

Even tho' this came out 6 years previously.

Two Headed Shark Attack (2012).
Dir: Christopher Douglas-Olen Ray.
Cast: Carmen Electra, Charlie O' Connell, Brooke Hogan, Christina Bach Norman, Morgan Thompson, Gerald Webb, Ashley Bissing, David Gallegos, Anthony E. Valentin Geoff Ward and the lovely Corinne Nobili.

"Wait, if it has two heads then it must have double the teeth!"

Somewhere in the local park paddling pool behind director Ray's house, hunky Simon McCorkindale alike Professor Franklin Babish (O'Connell, brother of teevee's Jerry) and his wife, Anne (ex-Baywatch babe and Marvel comics assassin Electra) are busy teaching a group of (very old looking) teens about life on the ocean waves aboard their boat cum classroom cum skimpy bikini base - the aptly named the Sea King - aided and abetted by the stone breasted Capt. Laura (Ex You Are the Supermodel host Thompson) and funny accented foreign fella's Han and Dikilla (Asylum regular Webb and ex-electrician Valentin).

Haveta admit that's a shitload of characterisation for what is essentially a crap B movie but heyho.

Hogan: you would but you'd be thinking about her dad.

Anyways whilst discussing the best way to use a sextant (snigger) the boat hits a half chewed CGI approximation of a shark which unfortunately becomes lodged in the boat’s propeller, damaging the hull and causing the boat to take on water.

Which is kinda nice.

As Babish and co. run around trying to fix stuff and the students - all jiggly sunburnt breasts and stud muffin chests - attempt to imbue their cardboard characters with something vaguely resembling life a giant two-headed shark appears from nowhere and attempts to have sex with the boat, breaking the radio antenna and causing nice girl student Kate's (Unwell fave and Ex Crocodile Dundee Hogan from Sand Sharks) frankly terrifying tits to slowly undulate from side to side in a manner not unlike a pair of hypnotic sex-trifles.

With Laura needing the ship empty to affect repairs and Anne's breasts wanting some screen time, Babish decides to take students, consisting of the aforementioned Kate, geekily pube bearded Paul (Gallegos), the yummy Kristen (pretty lipped Nobili) and rentahunk Cole (1313: Hercules Unbound! star Ward) alongside a group of soon to die, look-alike pneumatic beach babes and studs over to a nearby (and incredibly handy) atoll aboard a dinghy.

A butchers shop window yesterday.

As Professor Babish tries in vain to enthuse the students, Laura (and her breasts) enter the water in order to repair the big jaggy felt pen line that's appeared on the ship's hull but the shark quickly swallows her whole.

Nope it doesn't spit that bit out.

Meanwhile, as the rest of the group searches the atoll for scrap metal to help repair the boat (?), Kate opens her heart (but fortunately not her scarily skinny chest cavity, well not yet) to Kirsten.

It seems that when she was an ickle girl she was touched up by a shark at the beach or something and has joined the sea school in an attempt to master her fear of water.

Her fear of bad scripts tho' appears to know no bounds.

Realising that we're 25 minutes in and no-one has taken their tops off yet, faceless students Haley (fake tits, big face) and Alison (real tits, small head) decide to indulge themselves (and us) in a wee bit of lesbian based skinny dipping whilst the rodent like fratboy Kirk fondles their peachy arses as says "Whoa!" a lot.

Not too surprisingly the tonguing trio are attacked and eaten by the two-headed shark.

Or a rather large rubber approximation of it.

Tho' it may be fiberglass.

I mean do you really care?

Anyway back with the students and our polytechnic pals have come across (not literally) a couple of small speedboats in a bay but before they can celebrate an earthquake hits the atoll, causing the professor to trip over a stone and graze his leg.

Aya my BCG indeed.

Jam in mah shitey mooth ya bastards!

Nice guys Jeff and Mike offer to take Professor Babish back to the ship for a sticking plaster and a wee cuddle off his wife but on the way back are surprised to see Laura's severed hand floating in the water.

No doubt her rock solid breasts have sunk straight to the bottom before poisoning any fish unfortunate enough to chew on them.

As is the way in these movies, where's there's a rubber head there must be a rubber shark and within seconds of making the ghoulish discovery Jeff and Mike are frenziedly gobbled by the beast.
Matron!

"Laugh now!"

Meanwhile curvy Kate and polite Paul have managed to repair the abandoned boats and thick as mince Cole has even managed to find some petrol, overjoyed by this he jumps aboard one of the craft along with three of his pals and chugs off upstream prompting Kate and co. to chase after them in the other.

Boat that is not pal.

Nobili: knees.

The teens decide to have an impromptu race, blissfully unaware of the professor and his missis screaming "Shark!" at them.

Tho' by the look on his (manly) visage it appears from a distance that Babish is either having a wank or a stroke.

But tossing teachers is the least of their worries when our two headed pal turns up and attacks Cole's boat and eats a boy, which at least warns the others that it's around, which is a good thing really.

I guess.

Luckily this gives brainy Paul time to work out that the shark, having two heads is twice as good at hearing, hence it's chasing the boat with the biggest engine.

Or something.

Surprisingly thicky Cole figures this out at the same time, abandoning his boat and leaving his pals to face the jaws of death.

What a nice guy.

Returning to shore, Kate bitch slaps Cole for a few minutes before Anne, Professor Babish and the comedy crewmen arrive via a very quiet dingy.

"Put it in me!"

The fight is cut short tho' by another earthquake which leads Babish to surmise that the atoll is collapsing and that this coupled with the fact that they're two thirds thru' the movie means that they have to come up with an escape plan pretty sharpish.

Paul, determined not to die a virgin (contrary to what he told you, your Uncle Peter fucking you violently up the arse doesn't count) comes up with a plan to hook up a handy generator to a couple of metal poles and placing them in the water to distract the shark while Kate (whose dad was a welder) and turncoat Cole travel back to the boat to repair it.

What could possibly go wrong?

Possibly one of the sexiest scenes ever committed to celluloid.

Will Kate overcome her fear of water/sharks etc. in time to fix the ship?

Will Cole come thru' as a hero or fuck off with the boat in an attempt to save his own skin?

Will Kristen get damp and topless before entertaining us with an erotic dance?

And does anyone really care?

From the son of the director of Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers comes another Asylum shlockbuster aimed fairly and squarely at the lonely geek masturbation crowd.

Which let's admit it, is most of the readership of this blog.

From their humble beginnings releasing barely watchable  rip off's (Monster anyone?) Asylum have gone from producing shite like Allan Quatermain and the Temple of Skulls, The Da Vinci Treasure and The 9/11 Commission Report,  learning from their mistakes to a point where they now give us such top quality entertainment as the Tiffany starrer Mega Piranha and um, that one with David Carradine fighting the big crocodile.

Some things don't change tho' with Asylum still following the company template to the letter with it's unflinching emphasis on beasts, breasts and butts shoddily wrapped in a bow of cut-price CG with a topping of z list stars and yesterdays has beens, 2-Headed Shark Attack delivers exactly what the frighteningly photo-shopped box art promises.

Which is no bad thing if you're home alone on a Friday night with only a pizza, six pack and a box of tissues for company.

I never thought I'd say this but more please.

Especially if they feature Corinne Nobili in an ill fitting bikini.

crocoshite.

Day 4 of the whole 31 Days of Horror shtick and it's time to pop on our swimsuits and chance an encounter with the...
Killer Crocodile (1989).
Dir: Fabrizio De Angelis (as Larry Ludman).
Cast: Sherrie Rose, Van Johnson, Ennio Girolami, John Harper, Richard Anthony Crenna, Ann Douglas, Julian Hampton, Bill Wohrman and a huge crocodile.

In what looks like a garden pond somewhere in the deep south (it's the trousers), a couple of pissed stained and hideously dubbed old men are sitting in a kiddies boat discussing the current state of the river and lack of fish therein.

As the camera slowly glides, well judders, in towards our old chums as they continue their ad-libbed rant a big wooden bright green emulsioned crocodile jumps out of the bushes behind them whilst making a roaring sound, it's mouth stiffly opening and closing like an old barn door.


Cue the Jaws theme (well as near as dammit without getting sued) as we're treated to a croc's eye view of a filth ridden pond whilst, on the not too distant shore a man with a guitar and a bowl haired lady get out of a car.

Exciting stuff.

Obviously intrigued as to what's going on the crocodile silently watches as guitar man starts to pluck his funky stuff, much to the chagrin of his girlfriend whose expression seems to fluctuate between slightly bored, annoyed and comatose.

"I can see your house from here Peter".

Finishing his romantic serenade, Mr. Music reveals his true intentions; he means to have the sex with the lady.

Unfortunately (for him) she prefers to frolic about in what looks like a sewage overflow rather than let him put it in her.

Them the breaks I suppose.

Within seconds of entering the water tho' our small-hipped heroine is attacked by the so called 'killer' crocodile and dragged off to her death.

"MONSTA!"

Meanwhile somewhere in the Philippines a group of instantly forgettable mature students are searching the local waterways for evidence of illegal chemical dumping.

Sexy bespectacled Mark (Hampton AKA Pietro Genuardi from Paganini Horror and Dellamorte Dellamore) is busy taking random photos (hoping no doubt to get a few upskirt shots) whilst Kevin (Crenna son of the late great Richard) and his pal Bob (Harper) are busying themselves hitting the water with a stick.

It wouldn't be an Italian horror movie without some attractive ladies but obviously the budget wouldn't stretch so here we have the permanently scowling Pamela (Rose), the 'handsome'  Jennifer (Douglas, looking like someone's mum)  and buck-toothed local beauty Cynthia (possibly).

There is also a small dog which none too surprising is more charismatic than the rest of the cast combined.

"My dog's got no knob". "How does it make love?" "It's a bitch".

Although Cynthia is convinced that their expedition is fruitless it's not long before our tree-hugging chums come across a huge pile of rusted beer barrels oozing shaving foam.

On their sides reads "TOXIC WASTE, PROPERTY OF MR. B. ADMAN'S CHEMICAL COMPANY".

Bob, wearing his best decorating overalls and a gimp mask swims over to the barrels in order to take a radiation reading, which is pretty smart seeing as he's actually holding a Karl Zeiss light meter, and what do you know, it goes off the scale.

Heading back to the boat he declares that things are worse than he initially thought and the industrial waste they've just discovered is the worst kind imaginable, it's so toxic that it could possibly make crocodiles grow to giant sizes.

Realizing that the expedition is ill equipped to handle a clean up job of this magnitude (fuck it, they'd be hard put to organize a kiddies boat party), Kevin decides that they should camp out overnight then approach the local authorities the next morn.

Being characterless lemmings the others just nod in agreement.

"Must kill water with stick!"

With night fast approaching our intrepid crew set up camp at the edge of the local play park (near the duckpond) and spend the rest of the evening trying to decided who is the most tired/least attractive/next to die etc. whilst our doggy pal, bored with such human pursuits and desperate for a shite merrily runs off into the trees.

A few minutes later the groups monotonous conversation is interrupted by a huge yelp.

Being a dirty foreigner (compared to the others of course) and being the only non-named actor in the cast it's obviously Cynthia's job to go look for the furry lil devil, calling out as she wanders through the bushes, eventually arriving at where the boat is docked.

It's a bloody big park.

Kneeling at the waters edge she finds the dog's bloodied collar but before she has time to even scream the crocodile jumps out of the water and eats her whole.

Which is weird because they usually spit that bit out.*

Sade, up the casino, Brighton, 1987....YESCH!

The next morning as the crew begin to tidy away their camping equipment they begin to wonder as to the whereabouts of Cynthia but only for a few minutes because in no time at all their sailing off to town to report the pollution.

They're not all bad tho' as they do make a few half arsed attempts to call out her name as they leisurely chug down stream.

Arriving in town the group jump into a dilapidated old truck in search of the police station whilst a mysterious man in a hat watches from behind a bush.

Bizarrely enough our cool crew discover that not only does the town have no law enforcement at all but also that the fish market doubles as a morgue (but only on Tuesdays), anything legal is dealt with by a sprightly old ginger gentleman called the judge (former Hollywood heart-throb Van Johnson, obviously over his head in unpaid rent boys) and points them in the right direction.

Basically they're told to follow the smell of gin, piss and lavender.

Beware children, this Van is not full of sweets.

Unfortunately the judge is a bit of a bastard, togged up in his thin cotton finery and nipple revealing shirt and wastes no time in telling the plucky conservationists to fuck off before he puts them in jail for some reason or another.

After a half-hearted bitch fest where Pamela accuses the judge of being in bed with the man from the chemical factory (not literally mind, tho' I wouldn't put it past him, I mean Bill Wohrman is a fairly hunky piece o' meat) our teens head back to the boat deciding, like a cut-price junked up Scooby gang to search for Cynthia themselves.

As they leave the man in question, Jeff Sexington Foley (the aforementioned Wohrman) forces himself thru' the judges backdoor and demands that the meddling kids be dealt with. The judge however just sighs and cryptically tells Foley that he will have to stop "dumping his stuff in the swamp".

Is it just me or is this movie going all homo-erotic?

Insert cock here.

Back on the boat the group are busy using all their skills to find their friend which, I admit appears to involve splashing the water with a big stick whilst occasionally shouting her name.

The tedium is soon broken when the boat runs aground on a big rock, which at least gives them another reason to use the stick and Pamela an excuse to strip to her bra and pants.

Seriously tho' that's not as promising as it sounds.

Seductively swimming around the boat in an attempt to dislodge it Pamela pulls a big branch away from the hull and is fairly shocked when a half chewed Cynthia pops up.

Dragging her aboard (and searching her pockets for loose change) our heroes reckon she's been attacked by a massive (maybe chemically mutated) crocodile and head back to town to confront the judge.

Put it in me!

This would probably be a good idea if the local doctor wasn't in the judges pocket too because even tho' he kinda admits it looks a wee bit like a crocodile attack he's all too happy to side with the evil Foley, who suggests that the group murder their guide for some strange reason he hasn't thought of yet.

Just as the hanging (to the left) judge is about to have them arrested (by whom we are never told) the legend that is Sir Ennio of Girolami enters the room.

He will be playing the role of Joe, the huge hatted, hairy chested rough n' tough big game hunter for the rest of the movie and it's a pleasure to have him aboard.

Joe knows his stuff and after examining Cynthia's wounds announces that they're looking for a crocodile that's least 20 feet long that answers to the name of Terry.

More importantly tho' Joe offers to find it, kill it and skin it.

But not necessarily in that order. 

Bruce Forsyth picks a ring.

Back at the group's boat, Jennifer and Kevin convince the others (over a few beers) that they owe it to Cynthia to find the crocodile responsible and, um, make sure no-one kills it so that they can prove that Foley is dumping his muck in the river.

But for this they're going to need Joe's help.

As is the way in these situations our heroes decide that it'd be best to get Joe drunk before broaching the subject so, wallets in hand head over to the local bar cum bingo hall, not noticing the crocodile slowly swimming it's way to the dock behind them.

"shite (actor) in mah mooth!"

As Kevin, Pamela, Joe and the gang sit and enjoy a Babycham or three whilst discussing the best way to catch a crocodile a small raggedy girl sits happily playing with a Cabbage Patch kid on the dock (her family can't be that poor then) as a couple of local bad boys aimlessly toss a ball about before deciding it'd be much better fun to knock the doll into the water.

Cue the almost Jaws theme and ten minutes of kiddie based terror as the crocodile attempts to eat the screaming child as she clings onto the rapidly sinking dock for dear life, the towns folk standing around nonchalantly on the shoreline as if watching a football match.

How fucking unpopular must this kid be?


Luckily at least one of the townsfolk seems to care (it's either her dad or the local pedo) as one guy runs towards the dock to help but rather than just pull the girl up he climbs down into the water (next to the crocodile) and attempts (badly) to push her up.

Or at least get a good glimpse of her undies before she dies.

Not too surprisingly he slides into the crocodiles massive mouth and gets eaten, alongside a second rescuer who clumsily puts his foot in a hole right above the still hungry crocodile and (you'll never guess) gets eaten too.

It's like the Darwin Awards gone mad.

By this time our heroes have turned up at the dock to see what all the shouting was about and within seconds have jumped into action, Kev and Bob jump into the water and begin beating the crocodile with a big plank whilst Joe shoots randomly at anything that moves.

Mark on the other hand is busy taking photo's in the hope of at least getting 50 quid from You've Been Framed.

Oh no, the little girl slides into the water but luckily Bob manages to grab her hair and throw her to safety whilst Joe continues to shoot things from his boat.

By this time the crocodile has decided that he's had enough of this eating extras lark and swims off into the middle distance as Joe waves his fist at it between shooting at stuff.

The scene is now set for a battle like no other (alright a battle like the end of Jaws, Orca Killer Whale et al.) as Joe prepares to kill the crocodile and Mark and co. prepare to save it....

I predict blood, sweat and eggy stains.

From the fevered mind of ex-postman cum producer and director Fabrizio De Angelis comes probably the greatest Van Johnson starring killer crocodile movie ever made.

I would have said Ennio Girolami starring but as we all know, he's also in the sequel, directed by SFX god Giannetto De Rossi.

But we're leaping ahead of ourselves, what of the original (and best) of the pair?

"Not the face love!"

Well what can you say about a movie that epitomizes everything that is so right (and so, so wrong) with low budget '80's Euro' horror cinema?

Shoddy camera work, sunburned actors, stilted almost surrealist dubbing, ludicrously fashionable haircuts and a lack of respect for the laws of storytelling that would make Baron Munchhausen balk crash headlong into an almost 'fuck you' disregard for budgetary constraints as it proudly displays it's star attraction, a 20 foot long balsa wood crocodile for all to see.

And for that I can only salute all involved.


The perfect bedmate for Enzo G. Castellari's The Last Shark, this film needs to be seen (and revered) by today's teen horror fans as a shining example of what can be achieved for 30 quid and a cheap awayday ticket to the seaside.

Jon Turteltaub please take note.



*Can we take a moment to celebrate that particular jokes 976th appearance on this blog. Thank you.