chicken run.

As mentioned earlier I've been busy reviewing a slew of halfway decent 'Zom-Coms' for an upcoming book on the genre (alongside some 'proper job' drawing....wonders never cease) so had precious little time for anything.

Including washing which is a wee bit embarrassing if I'm honest.

Available to buy soon....please do cos I need new shoes!

But occasionally a film comes along which is so mind-numbingly arse that you just can't ignore it.

But enough about The Last Jedi.

Instead ladies and gentlemen I give you (no really take it)....

Leatherface (2017).
Dir: Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo.
Cast:  Stephen Dorff, Vanessa Grasse, Sam Strike, Lili Taylor, Finn Jones, James Bloor, Jessica Madsen, Sam Coleman and Julian Kosto.

Surely it should say the origin of Leatherface seeing as the origin of TCM is actually the film? Just saying.

Deep in the heart of Texas (played quite convincingly - surprisingly enough - by a small Bulgarian town) on the Sawyer homestead, mucky-faced mentalist matriarch Verna Sawyer (Lili - "The school fees are how much?" - Taylor) is busy organizing a birthday party for her youngest son/nephew/brother Jedidiah.

And what is the little tyke getting for his birthday?

Well the chance to slaughter a local hick they found wandering around the farm who it seems was attempting to steal a pig.

Presenting Jedidiah with a chainsaw the family cheer on the boy as he slowly (well he only has tiny legs) approaches the prone pig puller.

Being a sweet caring child tho' Jedidiah refuses, preferring to finish his cake leaving grandpa to finish the job with his trusty hammer.

Teeth.

Jump forward to 1955 where sweet young things Betty Hartman (the Converse-clad, button nosed pixie dream girl Grasse) and Ted - hey fanboys here's a reference for you - Hardesty (Kosto) are happily driving down a country road when they come across (not in that way even tho' he's on all fours with his peachy arse sticking in the air) little Jedidiah clad only in a pair of soiled undies and a cow head.

No really.

Betty, being a nice girl (and obvious victim fodder, no one that cute could possibly survive that long in a horror movie) follows the wee fella to a dilapidated old barn where the rest of the Sawyer family are in hiding ready to drop a tractor engine on her head.

Unfortunately for them her father is not only the mad as a bag of spanners local Sheriff but also played by the frankly marvelous Stephen ("She's bleeding me dry with this divorce settlement!" Dorff who reacts by angrily shouting at everyone before taking little Jedidiah into custody and carting him off to the Gorman House Youth Reform School for 'his own safety'.

It's like a slightly more violent episode of The Archers really.

"Milk it."

With the backstory out of the way it's time to start the movie good and proper as we (quantum) leap ten years into the future where the recently-hired nurse Elizabeth White (It Came From The Desert star Grasse) is spending her first day at work bonding with the patients.

As opposed to abusing them ala One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest because no cliché works quite like an old cliché.

And just to show how nice she really is she stands up for the misunderstood and incredibly broody Jackson (Strike) when he steps in to stop the hulking monosyllabic Bud (ex Doctor Who companion Coleman) getting into trouble for fighting with the buck-toothed badboy Ike (Bloor who scarily looks like a living breathing human/Daffy Duck hybrid and so by default is the scariest thing in the film).

Grasse modeling the incredibly authentic 1960s nurses uniform she wears in the film...or is it in your dads bed?

Things are about to take a turn for the worse tho' as no sooner has our heroine calmed everyone down when Verna turns up with an injunction to allow her to see her son.

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on if you want to watch a horror movie or a courtroom drama) the creepy head of the hospital Doctor Shanga Lang (Adamson who's been in loads of stuff including your auntie and your younger sister. Twice) tells her to fuck off adding that she couldn't see him even if they wanted her to seeing as they've changed Jedidiah's name to something else because it wouldn't fit on the name labels in his vest and what do you know the file with his new name has fallen down the back of the sofa.

Taking matters into her own (very delicate) hands the mentalist mum inadvertently causes a riot whilst searching for her boy allowing Ike and his burned boobed girlfriend Clarice (mother of Reservoir Dogs star Micheal, Jessica Madsen) to kidnap Elizabeth - along with Bud and Jackson - and steal a car in an attempt to flee to Mexico.

Moonhead.

As the group travel between rest stop diners and deserted caravans via various murder sprees, country roads and bloodbaths, Sheriff Hartman discovers that one of the group is actually Jedidiah so alongside his Deputy Nancy Sorells (Former Game of Thrones homosexualist, nephew of Doctor Who companion Jo Grant and Iron Fist himself Jones) heads off in hot pursuit.

Realizing that they've hit the halfway point with nary a hint of sleazy sex-based shenanigans our merry band of bonkers buddies take refuge in a rundown mobile home, abandoned save for the hanging putrefying corpse of its former owner, which not only supplies us with a cheap jump scare but gives Ike an excuse to whoop and giggles a lot whilst Clarice strips naked to reveal what a good job the make up department have done on her burn scars (and also show off the frankly magnificent fake nipples shes sporting) before the pair - unsurprisingly - engage in a necrophiliac threeway in an attempt to remind us just how down right bad they really are but only manages to make the viewer pine for the wonderful Beatrice Manowski in Nekromantik.

Tho' to be honest I never really need an excuse to do that.

Beatrice Manowski: Don't try this at home, again.

As the gruesome twosome sleep off their sexy hi-jinks Elizabeth makes a break for the woods only to be very quickly grabbed by a by now awake Ike who, after making some lewd suggestions decides to pick on Bud instead.

This not only saves Elizabeth from a brutal bumming but riles Bud up enough to stomp on Ike's head before falling asleep on his corpse.

Which is nice.

The next morning, Clarice notices that Ike is missing (she's observant like that) and heads off to find him leaving Jackson and Elizabeth to find Bud and wake him up before quickly running away.

Which is what I would love to do at this point if I'm honest, I mean I'm only sticking around to see if Lili Taylor turns up again - I've not been the same since I saw her in I Shot Andy Warhol well I'm only flesh and blood plus 'tween her and Dorff it's like a veritable reunion.

Taylor: Swift kick to the head.

It's not long tho' before crusty Clarice is apprehended by an ever more angry Hartman who in a fit of pique shoots her in the head as Bud, Jackson and Elizabeth watch from their hiding place inside a dead cow.

No.

Really.

Crawling out of the poor beasts arse our plucky trio make their way toward the highway where Elizabeth attempts to get the attention of a passing policeman who - as they are known to do in The States - responds by shooting Bud in the head.

This sends an understandably jittery Jackson into a violent rage culminating in him shutting the poor policeman's head in the car door whilst pinching his nipples before stealing the by now very messy motor and flooring it.

But Hartman is in hot pursuit.

www.nofuckingneed.com/yourmumsbestgoingoutclothes

In a chase scene the like of which hasn't been seen since the episode of Father Ted with the milk float, Hartman soon catches up with the daring duo, opening fire on the car and shooting Jackson in the mouth (which lets be honest is better than him shite-ing in it) causing a rather nasty crash.

And a wee bit of chafing.

As time passes and the screen fades thru black Elizabeth suddenly wakes to find herself handcuffed to the backdoor of Hartman's car.

We've all been there.

The silence is broken by Sorells on the radio (as in the police radio - he's not crooning a song on pick of the pops or anything) and Elizabeth manages to grab the mic with her feet and call for help but unbeknown to our heroine Sorells is in the pay of Verna, heading out to her homestead to  reveal her - and Hartman's - whereabouts.

It appears that Jackson is, in fact, Jedidiah and the crazy copper has him trussed up in the same barn his daughter was killed in.

Pausing only to feed Sorells to some pigs she gathers her family and heads over to the barn for a final confrontation with Hartman.

FOLD ME? - must not be just the plot that's paper thin then.

With Elizabeth trussed up like a Christmas turkey (albeit a turkey with wonderfully milky white thighs you could ski down) and an injured Jackson lying in a pool of his own piss moaning like your mum at the works end of year do Hartman stands legs akimbo with a shotgun in his hand goading the family to attack.

Which they do and with there being five of them they soon overpower the Sheriff and take him back to their gouse for tea, crumpets and a wee bit of chainsaw chopping courtesy of the by now shot to fuck - and flappy faced - Jackson/ Jedidiah.

In the confusion Elizabeth breaks free of her bonds and legs it into the woods, Jedidiah and co. in hot pursuit.

You can see where this is going can't you?

"Put it in me!"

Tripping over a discarded bear-trap Elizabeth is soon at the mercy of the by now deranged Jedidiah, his face held together with a makeshift muzzle constructed from an old thong and an eggcup as he slowly approaches his prone pal his chainsaw wobbling in the air menacingly.

OK I'll be honest he looks a wee bit of a cock but at least he's trying.

"Hello...are yu the blind man?"

Will Elizabeth be able to appeal to her one-time friends softer side or will she inadvertently insult his mum causing him to behead her in a fit of pique?

And if this does happen will he fashion Elizabeth's face into a leathery mask and take to wearing it (and shitly applied lipstick) around the house?

Go on, guess.

The prequel to the Tremaine 'Trey Songz' Neverson starring sequel cum reboot that no-one ever asked for (Ok maybe one person did and yes I'm looking at you nan) Leatherface is a futile attempt to breathe new life into a horror franchise that's last halfway decent entry was released way back in 1986.

Ignoring the brilliant Part 2 (probably) as well as Parts 3 and 4 - and the various reboots and rejigs since - Leatherface takes us back to the birth of a horror icon (again) in the vain hope that someone (anyone?) is interested, ticking all the deep south clichés along the way before exploding into an ill-advised mess of wobbly mantits, bad teeth, cheap gore and a twist so obvious you'll be surprised that they didn't just add another twist on the end to make up for it.

Or at least an apology.

Directors Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo (who obviously shot their horror wad when writing and directing the frankly marvelous Livide and the not too shady Inside) do their best with the limited budget available and whilst Bugaria does a passable impression of Texas and the cast try to add some sparkle to the hackneyed dialogue it's an uphill struggle that's neither shlocky enough or gruesome enough to be truly memorable.

Or even remotely enjoyable for any reason other than to marvel at the depths Lili Taylor and Stephen Dorff's careers have sunk to.

A friend of mine in it's defense said that "It's the best TCM movie not directed by Tobe Hooper."

Which sums it up perfectly.

 Avoid.

Unless you get turned on by fake rubbery nipples and bad teeth.

super gran.

Whilst re-watching Bloody Beast for 31 days of horror recently I was reminded of a strange fact regarding my dear departed Gran.

You see, she had this quirk when it came to watching films. She'd quite happily sit thru' any number of rapes, tortures and mutilations but got really upset if (and I quote) 'a wee boy died'.

A Gran watching Sadomaster yesterday
(not mine tho', she's dead).

I remember the day when her and my Gramps had hired House By The Cemetery and Cannibal Ferox from the local 'Washvac' video shop (no longer with us I'm afraid) and settled down for a quiet Saturday afternoons film viewing.

Umberto Lenzi's trash extravaganza of breast skewering, eyeball popping, cock cutting and skull crushing went by without a hitch but as soon as mulleted moppet Giovanni Frezza appeared onscreen chatting to Silvia Collatina (aaahhh....young love!) in that Fulci masterpiece of the macabre House By The Cemetery, my Gran turned it off, commenting on how sick the director must be to cast a child in a horror film.

Do my formative years make more sense now?

Anyway, enough inane chat, time for some killings.


Cannibal Ferox (AKA Make Them Die Slowly, Woman from Deep River, 1981).
Dir: Umberto Lenzi.
Cast: Giovanni Lombardo Radice, Lorraine De Selle, Danilo Mattei, Zora Kerova, Walter Lucchini, Fiamma Maglione, Robert Kerman, John Bartha and Venantino Venantini.

Banned in 31 countries, and that's
just for using that godawful font.

Opening with the obligatory New York skyline shots (to convince the viewer that they're watching an American movie), the action soon moves to the shoddily decorated (I'm a furnishing snob, so sue me) flat of sleazy doper Mike Logan (thin haired, Italian exploitation god Radice) where his rat-like buddy Johnny, hankering for a score (as they say) has inadvertently disturbed a couple of mob heavies trashing the place looking for the hundred grand our dealer pal has stolen from them.

When Johnny junkie can’t tell them where Mike (or their cash) is, they be-suited brutes toss him out of a window.

Ouch.

Giovanni Lombardo Radice: He's got something to put in you.

Meanwhile in the Amazon, 'pretty' grad student Gloria Davis (raven haired French star of Woman's Prison Massacre, S.S. Extermination Love Camp and Return of the Saint, De Selle), her brother Rudy (the weasel faced, Milo Ventimiglia-alike Mattei) and their token blonde slut pal Pat (the petite and pert breasted yet harsh faced, almost milk bar Kerova) are driving around aimlessly (in a Jeep if details like that are important) hoping to find evidence to support Gloria’s idea that cannibalism is, in reality just a myth perpetrated to justify the exploitation of primitive cultures.

She's studying anthropology by the way and this is for her graduation thesis, it's not like she's just decided to do this for a drunken bet ALA Dave Gorman.

Tho' come to think of it that would make a great Edinburgh Fringe show if you're reading Dave.

Some emoting from the cast yesterday.

Our studious pals decide to take a break from all this anthropological jazz at the Turamazonas resort, partly to find directions to the hidden village of Manioca but mainly because Gloria is sick of shitting in a bucket.

Classy burd that she is, Pat has nasty sex with a fat, sweaty policeman in order to use his shower (from the state of her she really should be bathing in bleach tho'. Or piss) before all three head off to catch a barge so as to reach their destination.

Which in Pats case should be the nearest VD clinic.

Pat: licking piss of John Nettles.

To make the journey go a bit quicker Gloria harps on at great length about the theory behind her PHD dissertation to anyone who'll listen, but luckily doesn't stray to far from being a typical girl by screaming at insects vomiting when a local eats a butterfly for good luck.

And that's about as pleasant as the trip gets as literally within minutes of reaching dry land the heroic trio mount the kerb trying to dodge a pissed up, jay walking iguana before driving into a big puddle and finally blowing up the jeep's engine.

Rudy reckons it's time to break out the whiskey and get pissed but Gloria, being the sensible (shoed) one bullies her brother into carrying all their luggage in the direction of the nearest village.

Pat decides to stand around trying to look sultry but unfortunately just looks like a Bulldog licking piss off a nettle.

"Tin o'beans 20 pence mah friend?"

Making their way thru' undergrowth our merry band begin to notice the lush trees around them are filled with half naked natives, silently watching their every move.

Which is all well and good but distinctly lacking in the animal murder stakes.

Don't worry tho' because after making camp for the night their restless sleep is disturbed by an anaconda snacking on their pet tapir.

Finally we're in proper Italian cannibal territory. meaning with all the exploitation boxes now ticked the group can continue their journey into the jungle.

And it's not long before they stumble across a pair of (very) dead natives pinned to a tree via a crazy death trap.

This sight is even enough to cool even Pat's horny mood.

Tupac Tapir: victim of a long running feud
with The Notorious Mr. Big (snake).

As the pals stand around emoting two sweaty white guys stumble out of the undergrowth and fall at Rudy's feet (you can tell this pisses Pat off). The less sweaty one explains that they've just escaped from some hungry cannibals and that they should all run away as quickly as possible.

Which they do before suddenly stopping in a clearing by a river’s edge (a real one, not the movie) where one of the men introduces himself as Mike Logan (see how it's all tying together?...it's good that) who alongside his buddy Joe (Lucchini) have been out looking for cocaine and stuff.

No doubt all the shops in New York were shut so they've had to get a bus out to the Amazon....ain't that always the way?

Heath Ledger: the post Oscar years.

According to Mike's story, they were wandering about minding their own business when a bunch of naked, blue skinned men jumped out, ate their guide (as in tour guide, not the small girl type, tho' that would be worth seeing) and chased them off into the trees.

Pat, obviously upset by poor Mike's tale decides it'd help if she has 'the sex' with him (and if he gives her some cocaine as a thank you then even better) whilst the others cover their heads with pillows to block out the noise.

Next morning everyone awakes to discover that Gloria has wandered off (probably sick of spending every night gazing at Pat's lilly white arse bouncing up and down on a variety of rancid cocks) so they split up (great idea) to look for her.

Mike and Pat stroll off hand in hand together whilst a concerned (or is it bored? I really can't tell) Rudy and limping Joe head off further into the jungle.

It's not long before the brave boys enter the village of Manioca (you remember? the place they were going to visit....that it appears they didn't have an address for. Students eh?), deserted save for a few old geezers, a couple of corpses and, nailed to a tree, what remains of Mike and Joe's guide.

Despite Joe begging Rudy to leave, Gloria's bowl headed bro' is intent on having a wee look around, hoping to find a souvenir shop that sells sticks of rock and the like.

Wait for it............






"Eye son!"
(You're welcome).

Mike and Pat on the other hand are busy enjoying stock footage of a leopard killing a monkey before coming across Gloria alive and well but stuck at the bottom of a muddy hole with just a piglet for company.

Tho' you'd be hard pressed to tell the difference.

Mike pulls Gloria out of the hole but reckoning that this good deed goes against his anti-establishment image almost immediately jumps in himself and tortures the poor wee pig to death.

Bastard.

Rudy boy: A mooth made for shite-in in.

This act of wanton cruelty is the final straw for poor Gloria who starts stomping her feet and shouting that they should all go home before they get eaten.

Unfortunately tho', by the time she's managed to convince everyone that this would be for the best, Joe starts to feel really poorly, looking at everyone with his big puppy dog eyes he pleads with the group to stay till he's better.

Much to Gloria's chagrin they all agree.

At least Mike and Pat are happy about the whole situation, seeing as this gives them even more time to get stoned, get naked and get dirty (as you youngsters say) in the bushes as well as indulging in a bit of post shagging torture of a local native girl who happens upon then during one particularly nasty sex session.

Unluckily (for them) Her brother sees everything and heads off to tell his dad.

You can tell the tribe are angry by this news (or that the director wanted to spice up the film a bit) because that night they butcher and eat a giant tortoise (in full technicolor and in loving close up).

Yup, I reckon what this film needs at this point is a few more senseless animal killings.

cheers Mr. Lenzi.

"Didn't you kill my brother?"

Back at the village (the Indios one, not the one in The Prisoner) Joe wakes from his jungle illness just long enough to tell Rudy and Gloria the shocking truth about him and Mike.

And it's not that they're lovers.

Or even real wielders.

It seems the pair fled to South America with the cash they'd nicked in the movies opening, hoping to set themselves up as emerald prospectors (as you would).

But standing around up to their arses in cold water waggling a tea strainer for hours on end and only finding bits of beak and stone had begun to take it's strain on their relationship so the duo decided it'd be easier to just torture the whereabouts of the emeralds out of the local villagers instead.

Realizing that the reason the village is so quiet is that anybody that can carry a spear is out searching for this evil pair gives Gloria the impetus she needs to start running as quick as her little chicken legs will let her back to the boat drop off.

Pat and Mike are already one step ahead tho', having already legged it into the bushes taking all the cash, equipment and crisps with them.

After first having sex of course.

A non cursed (and non rotten)
papaya yesterday.

At this point (and because he no longer serves any purpose to the 'plot') Joe dies, leaving Rudy and Gloria to watch in horror as the returning tribes people tear him limb from limb and eat him for lunch before (wait for it) placing the curse of the rotting papaya onto the siblings.

Is there no end to this movies brutality?

At least now she doesn't have to
watch the end of this sick filth.

Tripping over a twig whilst trying to escape, Pat is pounced on by a gang of natives and dragged back to the village alongside a slightly peeved Mike.

The tribe sing and dance (badly) as Rudy, Pat and Gloria are popped into an Ikea style bamboo cage and lowered into a leech infested pond while Mike is tied to a big tree.

Not being one to stand on ceremony, big chief Brian Indios yanks down Mike’s high fashion denim flares and cuts his cock off with a bit of jagged stone before waving it about for all to see.

Then he eats it.

But not in a gay way obviously.

Not wanting to be accused of being savages the witch doctor cauterizes Mikes wound and then the entire group is led away further up river.

Mike checks out the Ryan Seacrest skullfuck hat.

Rudy, suddenly deciding he's an action hero, tries to escape but only manages to fall into a pool of piranhas before being shot with a poison dart.

Really, I don't know why he even bothered.

The surviving trio are dropped into a stinky pit whilst the natives once again eat a live animal for our viewing (dis) pleasure, this time at least it's not as cute as a tortoise.

At least he died in the name of high art, unlike Vic Morrow,
but at least John Landis didn't try
to hide his corpse by eating it.

Whilst all this scoffing of the poor Caiman (not Nick I hasten to add) and dancing is going on Mike (always the optimist) manages to claw his way out of the hole.

Killing a couple of natives for good measure, Mike heads for freedom, leaving Pat and Gloria at the of tribe but he’s quickly recaptured (well we are nearing the films climax) and tortured for his all round badness and crimes against piglets.

Firstly they lop off his (by now redundant) wanking hand before shoving him under a table with the top of his shiny balding bonce sticking thru' a hole in the top.

You can see where we're heading can't you?

Gloria and Pat can only look on in horror (well to be honest they could look away or cry but they choose to watch) as the main fella cuts off the top of Mikes head and scoops out his brain with a big wooden spoon for his pals to eat.

And before you ask yes this is indeed where Steven Spielberg got the idea for the monkey brains scene in Temple of Doom, luckily for 80s kids everywhere he must have popped out to the toilet afterwards and missed the bit where the tribe decide to pull Pat from the pit, tear her top off (and let's be honest it probably stinks of shite, blood, semen and egg by this point) and stick a pair of huge hooks thru' her breasts before leaving her hanging like a big bed sheet to die in the centre of the village.

Tho' I can't decide if this happening to Willie Scott would be more or less disturbing that the bit at the start when she sings.

Anyway whilst all this is going on a plane is flying overhead, it seems that Mike's girlfriend from back home has been worried about him and has launched a rescue mission.

Anything goes.....except forced arse banditary obviously.

Later that night whilst the tribe are sleeping off their big feast, a young Indio boy takes pity on Gloria (either that or he fancies a bit of rough), cuts her free and leads her out into the jungle. You know her escape couldn't be that easy tho' as some time later he too is killed and Gloria is left abandoned and alone in this green inferno.

Could be worse tho' she could be stuck in the fucking abysmal Eli Roth one.

Not funny but true....I found this note inside the ex-rental copy of the movie I bought.

Time passes (and the viewer starts looking at his watch hoping the film's nearly finished because he needs a wee) and the camera pans to a couple of American trappers enjoying a leisurely sail down the river.

Suddenly they hear what sounds like a woman screaming in the trees so decide to investigate.

Following the noise they find a slightly mad Gloria, crawling around half-naked in the grass, her hair greasier than normal and covered in angry boils.

Returning to civilization and spending months recovering in hospital, Gloria finally gets a bit of good news when she receives her doctorate for the (finally completed) thesis Cannibalism: End of a Myth.

See?

it at least had a happy ending.

Don't be fooled by this poster,
Zora Kerova's breasts are not this pert.

Cannibal Ferox (or Cannibal Xerox as it was amusingly called during the British video nasty era) is another in a long line of Lenzi's midly entertaining rip-offs of (then) current movie fads and whilst never as enjoyable as the utterly fantastic Nightmare City, as downright shite as Black Demons or as arse numbingly earnest as Man from Deep River, there are still a few (soiled) goodies on offer to enjoy if you look hard enough.

Famous for two things (surprisingly not the acting or direction) - eighties Italian horror whipping boy Radice's castration scene and the bit with the breast hooks, Lenzi uses the cod civilisation vs. stone age argument as an excuse for wall to wall violence and general nastiness, somehow believing himself that's he's producing some great work of art whereas anyone who's viewed the interview with the great man on the aforementioned Nightmare City disc will have to agree that he was completely off his rocker.

And how we loved him for it.

Lenzi: Fruit loops.

Good or bad?

Sleazy or super?

Who can really say?

All I know is it has pride of place on my shelf, right inbetween Anthropopagous: The Beast and Land of Death.

Which I think sums it up really.

beast wars.

15 films into 31 days of horror and just realized that there's been absolutely no classic D'Amato.

Till now.

Picked this for a rewatch partly because it's brilliant but mainly because this is what Cassidy's hair most resembles at the moment seeing as he 'forgot' to comb it whilst he was away on his residential.

Anthropophagous: The Beast (AKA The Grim Reaper, The Savage Island 1980)
Dir: Joe D'Amato
Starring: Tisa Farrow, Serena Grandi, Margaret Donnelly, Mark Bodin and Sir George Eastman.

Our tale of 'terror' opens on a grey and overcast Greek beach where a pair of unattractive German tourists are relaxing on vacation.

Whilst the girl (in a horrible 70's style bikini that leaves either way too little or far too much to the imagination - I can't decide) swims out into the choppy and obviously freezing - as in it's overcast, what other reason would there be? - waters, her boyfriend lies sprawled out on a towel (probably not his) listening to his unfeasibly large 'Walkman' and posing in his tiny Speedo's.

Nice.

Within seconds tho', someone (or something) pulls her down beneath the surface amid an enormous cloud of blood.

Unaware of his girlfriends murder the young man carries on frugging away to whatever it is German tourists listen to only to be rudely interrupted by a hatchet in the face.

Gruesome.

"Aya! my BCG!"

With a shower of scratches and amateurish dissolves the movie flashes forward a month or so (trust me, it feels longer) where we come across (we wish) the delightful American broad abroad Julie (a bored looking Farrow) eavesdropping on a group of badly dressed, big haired holidaymakers talking about a boat tour of the Aegean they're organizing.

This motley crew consists of hunky medical student Alan/Andy (depending on the dub), his sister (or maybe his ex girlfriend, again depending on the dub but to be honest  I don't really care) Carol - a new age tarot reading nutter, Italian stud muffin for hire (is there any other type?) Danny' Mister 'no character traits' Arnold alongside his pregnant wife Maggie plus the boat owner and open necked shirt man Stephis.

Julie being brash and American rudely interupts the chat to ask if they could take her over to one of the nearby islands.

Which surprisingly isn't a casino-based euphemism.

You see she’s supposed to be visiting some friends there, but she’s running a wee bit late and managing to miss the last boat (what? no water taxi's? or phones?) is stuck.

The group think "The sister of Mia Farrow and star of Zombie Flesh Eaters on our boat? Coolio!" and invite her along.

Farrow: floppy fringed and bored senseless. I/you still would tho'.

As they sail away, kooky Carol foresees disaster for Julie in her tarot cards.

You see, the mystic ones future reading came out as an unintelligible load of old bollocks, which means (to us in the tarot know) that Julie has no future!

The others, however, just think she's barmy and chuck the cards overboard.

But if we take a look at her career we can see that it's actually spot on.

Arriving at the island Maggie 'trips' and twists her ankle so decides to stay on board with sweaty Stephis while the others explore but with this being a Joe D'Amato movie nothing is that sedate and it's not long before a mysterious figure kills the open necked shirted one, kidnaps a screaming (and probably really dangerously hormonal) Maggie and sets the boat adrift.

Meantime, as the others explore the deserted island, Carol thinks she sees a figure at a window, but when they go to look no one can be found.

With all the horror tropes suggesting badness ahead - broken windows, a sign saying 'go away' and a score that sounds like a drunk ex-squaddie bumming a cat - the preening posse soon stumble upon a horribly mutilated body proving Carol's carping on about creepiness was absolutely correct.

Not too surprisingly, everyone decides it's time to go.

Laugh now.

With darkness quickly descending and a storm brewing on the horizon they take refuge in Julie's friends' deserted house (remember the folk she was going to visit? - cos the director hasn't until now) where the friends decide on a course of action....snuggle up together quietly till morning or split up and explore with only a match to light their way.

Julie and Andy decide to take the exploring option.

It all actually goes quite well under the circumstances up until (in one of the films only genuine jump moments) a sweaty blind girl jumps on Andy screaming "I can smell him… I'm the only one who knows when he's coming. And I'm never wrong. He smells of blood…"

Which doesn't say much for the killers choice of aftershave.

Julie recognizes the girl as her friends daughter Ariette, so the threesome decide to head back to the house together.

Aw sweet.

She's lucky....at least she can only hear the bloody film.

Unfortunately Ariette's ramblings send Carole over the edge (probably because there's only room for one mad woman in the house) and she runs away sobbing like a big girls blouse.

As Julie follows in hot pursuit, Ariette senses the presence of (or just smells) the killer in the house.

Our not so merry band soon realize that the infamous Andy Anthropopagous (AKA The Beast) is loose and he's feeling a wee bit mental.

Will anyone survive to tell the tale?

And will anyone watching stay awake long enough to care?

Can't decide what's more terrifying...
the neck wound or the hair.

Anthropophagous: the Beast is famous for three main reasons; it's genre God Joe D'Amato's first foray into 'straight horror' (after his 'gore porn' hits like Erotic Nights of The Living Dead), it has one of the best titles ever and was banned as a 'video nasty' during the 80's in the UK.

But more on that later.

D'Amato regular (and the movie's co-writer), the great George Eastman stars, alongside his colossal mantits as 'the beast' of the title, a shambling monosyllabic Max Wall gone to seed with a taste for human flesh, all trampy mullet, tight trousers, yellowy scalp and unbuttoned shirts.

It's so well realized that you can literally smell the piss and nob cheese thru' the screen.

Eastman: sorted for gin and piss.

Like all of D'Amato's movies there are some moments of quality, the suspenseful chase through the woods, where Julie's face is illuminated by brief flashes of lightning showcases the directors (usually unnoticed) skill as a cinematographer to the sequence exploring the beast's shabby almost pathetic lair via the disturbing flashback explaining the beast's origins – shipwrecked with his family, he accidentally kills his wife whilst trying to calm her down after suggesting the eat the body of their dead son to survive - but these little touches of greatness do nothing to help save the rest of the film from being a shoddily made, boredom fest of a movie.

And the movie's most notorious scene - and it's reason for appearing on the DPP banned list?

Well that comes late in the film where, after killing Arnold, the beast proceeds to tear the fetus from a still screaming Maggie's belly and then eat it.

This caused uproar amongst MP's and journalist's alike in 1984, when (incredible as it may seem) many were convinced they were witnessing an actual snuff movie.

I will admit it took me over 20 years to finally view this scene, not I hasten to add because I was concerned by the graphic image of infanticide I would undoubtedly see, but because the rest of the film leading up to that bit is so arse numbingly boring I'd given up way before it actually happened.

Most of it is either shot in the dark or on what looks like out of date off-cuts of cheap market stall film stock, the cast's acting style is almost totally non existent (you know it's a lost cause when even Tisa Farrow is in a film for the money) and when the most terrifying thing in a film is an actresses almost obscenely hairy armpits (take a bow Ariette! I know you're blind but you could of at least had a feel under there...it's like a forest) you know you're in big trouble.

"Did you get me a Drifter?"

Anyway, I digress.

Back to eating babies and the infamy surrounding this scene (which is still missing from the UK cut of this film), when you finally summon up the courage to view it you can plainly see that Eastman is chowing down on a (dead) baby rabbit wrapped in bacon rashers.

How can anyone get a baby and a rabbit confused?

And confused enough to take it to court on obscenity charges?

I mean:

Fluffy bunny wabbit (sans bacon).

Small child
(also sans bacon).

If you make it that far tho' you're rewarded with a classic final scene where Eastman is stabbed in the stomach with a pickaxe and, not letting a cannibal trick go by, proceeds to scoop up his intestines and shove them back into the wound.

When this fails he decides it's easier to just eat them.

See? told you it was a quality movie.

Tisa Farrow is shocked to discover
no-one eats a baby in her DVD copy.

Luckily Anthropophagous: the Beast is available in the UK for those brave souls that fancy it.

You're cheapest option is to search your local pound shop (no, really) as it's available on a double disc (but renamed The Grim Reaper) with Mario Bava's Daria Nicolodi starrer Shock (called Beyond The Door II on the packaging).

Unfortunately this version (and surprisingly the last US release) is missing the fetus eating scene and, it must be said most of the plot.

Thankfully tho' our German cousins* (God bless 'em!) released a fully uncut version and it's in the original 1.85:1 aspect ratio too.

As a downside it looks like it's been transfered from an old nth generation video copy meaning large amounts of the movie appear to be filmed in utter blackness.....

Well you win some you lose some.

































*Bizarrely enough 'the Germans' appear to have something of an unhealthy obsession with this movie which came to a head in 1999 when Violent Shit director Andreas Schnaas remade the film as Anthropophagous 2000.

Utter pants from start to finish (tho' the bikini worn by the girl at the start is an improvement) it's lead actress* Cornelia de Pablos retired to take up painting soon after its completion.

Unfortunately if her work online is anything to go by she shouldn't have bothered.

*Unlike Tisa Farrow who went on to pose for Playboy, nude on a Merry-Go-Round horse wrapped in streamers.

Be seeing you.

celebrity love island.

After another busy few days of work/school stuff and various terrifying things I decided it was time to revisit this quality Joe D'Amato 'classic' as a way of 'relaxing'.

I'm blaming this on the fact that I rewatched Wild Beasts t'other day and felt like a frisky femme fix after the joy of seeing Lorraine De Selle strut her sexy stuff.

Don't be too harsh on me tho' when I admit to having a really soft spot for this film, it was one of those movies that always sat at the back of your 'nasties' cupboard when you were 15 (alongside the Malcolm McDowell masterpiece Caligula and Mad Foxes).

The 80's: That's how we all dressed.

It disappeared from my collection during one of my frequent moves during the late 80's but bizarrely enough a few years ago I was sent a copy in the post by my mad uncle Quentin - alongside an out of date condom and a copy of the Anime series Sex Friend which he'd mistakenly purchased thinking it was called Sex Fiend but I digress.
 
So saddle up and prepare to revisit those heady days of Pop Will Eat Itself, Red Stripe in cans, starchy school uniforms and dodgy Marc Almond haircuts.....


Le Notti Erotiche Dei Mort Viventi (AKA Erotic Nights Of The Living Dead 1980)
Dir: Joe D'Amato
Cast: Laura Gemser, George Eastman, Mark Shannon, Dirce Funari and some other folk obviously but they're the most important ones.

Salty Oirish seadog, Captain 'amazing' Larry O'Hara (played by the half man half giant sweat gland that is D'Amato regular George Eastman, this time wearing Al Cliver's beard and Auretta Gaye's breasts) has been hired to take a big mustached, 'sexy' American businessman/playboy/STD riddled sex tourist Mr. John Wilson (yes, the Man in Haini's Fantasy from Orgasmo Nero himself, Mark Shannon) and his 'girlfriend' Fiona (the fantastically named Dirce Funari from D'Amato's Porno Holocaust) to visit the remote island of Briny Cleft where the businessman is planning to build an exclusive holiday resort.

Presumably one exclusively for the use of big mustachioed playboys wearing bri-nylon.

"Are you looking at my bra?"

After what seems like days of on deck shagging, drinking, comparing of man-tits and  the like they finally arrive at the island to find a spookily sexy voodoo lady (and I don't mean maybe) named Luna (Gemser, ask your mum) and her bony old dad Geoff waiting for them on the beach.

And they don't look happy.

Saying that tho' if someone told me I was going to have to put Mark Shannon's warty cock in my mouth for a measly 25 quid I'd be a wee bit pissed off too.

It appears that the island is cursed and bad things (other than the imminent risk of herpes) are going to occur if they don't scarper back to the boat pretty sharpish.

You see, this is an island of the dead and they don't take kindly to property developers disturbing their sleep.

Either by building stuff or having sex a lot.

Which is fair enough really.

"Excuse me I appear to have accidentally stuck my cock in you".

Obviously the only way to deal with this frankly terrifying revelation is to indulge in a bit - well a lot - more sex.

Which is nice.

And it must be our lucky day cos not only do we get to experience the sheer joy of Eastman's hairy arse thrusting up and down as he attempts to pleasure an obviously bored Funari but also the unbridled passions of Gemser and Funari (again - the poor girl will be knackered) as the pervy pair get down to some furious scissoring.

It's not all bareback bummings tho' because D'Amato knows what we're really here for.

Yup, the undead.

Oh go on then and took gaze in awe at the dusky and dirty pillowed Gemser.

But mainly the undead.

Who it has to be said do indeed rise to take revenge on the interlopers in a surprisingly tense scene that's actually quite cinematic and stylish thanks to the use of a fog machine and a couple of blue lenses.

Great cinematography in a Joe D'Amato flick?

Will wonders never cease?

Rrrrraaaaannnnggggeeerrrrssss!!!

It's at this point that the movie goes a wee bit strange - which seeing as it had a woman opening a bottle of Champagne with her fanny during the films opening is saying something - as without rhyme nor reason the lovely Gemser suddenly turns into a cat (or a child's cuddly toy I can't really tell) and back again before biting Mark Shannon's cock off as Eastman runs into the sea screaming before turning round and running out again.

Maybe it was too cold?

As a plus point it does give us a chance to see his huge hairy nipples rubbing against his wet vest so it's not all for nothing.

And what is the foxy Funari doing during all this I hear you ask?

Well she's sitting on the beach clad only in a massive pair of grey granny pants sobbing and snottering everywhere whilst the undead slowly creep toward her.

Will our heroes survive the zombie hordes and live to shag another day?

Go on, guess.

Like his other genre molesting crossover Porno Holocaust - both of which were shot over two weeks in the same Dominican Republic locations with only minor variations in cast and crew (mainly due to Tetanus jabs being required -  it's difficult to see who D'Amato was aiming these films at.

Present company excepted obviously.

The usual porn brigade are no doubt going to be put off by the scenes of undead induced violence whilst your everyday horror fan is probably not going to want to see Mark Shannon's wart-infested scrotum.

Possibly.It does beg the question is this a rare example of the unsung genius that is D'Amato sneakily toying with the porn crowds expectations and enjoyment by creating a genre defying work of cinematic art never since matched?

Probably not but it would be nice to think so.

Even for a short while.

"Put it in me!"

Yet, despite all the crap shags, woeful performances and the aforementioned sight of Eastman's girlfriend opening a bottle of Champagne with her vagina, the island scenes are steeped with a genuinely nightmarish atmosphere thanks to D'Amato's moody, if sometimes zoomtastic, cinematography.

Marcello Giombini's eerie score is suitably, um, eerie and the 'exotic' Laura Gemser is always worth a mention.

If not a quick hand shandy every now and then, especially if you're watching her fitness video.

Or so your dad says.

There is even the odd spooky scene along the way, like the one when Shannon, sceptical of the zombie curse, throws away a protective talisman only to see it transform into a cat as it hits the sand.

Pity this can't be said about the later scenes of zombies dropping from trees tho' seeing as they look exactly like what they are, which is groups of unfortunate drunk homeless men being pushed out of bushes.

Saying that it's probably better to be pushed off by D'Amato than wracked off.

Especially seeing as he's been dead nearly 20 years.

Funari: Smashing arse.

But for all it's faults and uncomfortable close ups of ugly warts, sagging arses and lopsided breasts (stand up and be counted Ms. Funari) Le Notti Erotiche Dei Mort Viventi comes across (quite literally) as the bastard, inbred offspring of Fulci's Zombi 2 and Jess Franco's Nightmares Come at Midnight with a wee bit of Ferdinando Di Leo's Klaus Kinski starrer Asylum Erotica thrown in - or up - for good measure.

I mean if you're going to steal steal from the best.

Plus it's slightly funnier than D'Amato's Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals (plus it hasn't got a bizarre arse obsessed subplot) and a damn sight more erotically charged than The Boy In The Striped Pajamas.

And that really isn't such a bad thing if you think about it.