our cousin vinny.

Been an eventful and very hot few days here culminating in the skin on my head splitting and my ear pouring blood.

The docs reckon it's dry skin but I reckon my head is rebelling due to watching too much shite.

Speaking of which...

The Last Horror Film (AKA Fanatic. 1982).
Dir: David Winters.
Caroline Munro, Joe Spinell, Judd Hamilton, Devin Goldenberg, David Winter, Susan Benton, Glenn Jacobson and Sean Casey.

"I've seen enough fake blood to 

know the real thing when I see it!"

Sweat covered NYC taxi driver and part time pock-marked testicle Vinny Durand (the late, great cult God Spinell) is scarily obsessed with the fantastically sweet smelling cult scream queen Jana Bates (the very first Barclay's of any self respecting child of the seventies and first lady of fantasy, the yumsome Munro), spending all his spare cash on every piece of Bates merchandise available.

Oh and tissues obviously.

But Vinny isn't planning being a taxi driver (or chronic masturbator) forever because he has a dream.

A dream of making the ultimate (and by default last) horror film with his heroine.

And when he yells cut he really means cut.

As in "I'll cut you up!" not "finish filming that scene" obviously.
That all sorted?

Great.

Now I can get back to the plot.

Returning home to the cramped, shame tinged apartment he shares with his mum, Vinny announces that he's off to the world famous Cannes Film Festival (that's in Paris, France near London, Europe for our American readers) in the hope of meeting Ms. Bates in the flesh and persuade her to appear in his aforementioned dream project, the aptly titled 'Death Wears a Second Hand Thong'.

After listening to her son's heartfelt dreams and plans, and being a normal mum she slaps him around the head and calls him a mentalist layabout with personal hygiene issues before making him a meatball sandwich and helping him to pack his case.

Matt Smith: The Pikey years.

Arriving in Cannes Vinny tries in vain to get a meeting with Jana but instead only meets with failure and general snobbery at every attempt, knocked back by everyone from her manager and ex-husband Master Bret Bates (Jacobson from Operation: Petticoat) as well as Jana's boyfriend, the famous film producer Alan Cunningham (Munro's ginger 'tached ex hubbie Hamilton).

On a plus side he does meet up with a bona fide 'American cowboy' and gets to stroll along the streets looking at film posters whilst the cameraman does his best to try and film someone (more) famous leaving a hotel.

It's like watching Friday 13th intercut with your mum's old holiday snaps.

But minus the nudity and body modification obviously.

The final straw tho' is when a stringy French bouncer knocks him back from a happening disco-party being held in Jana's honour, finally breaking Vinny's tenuous link to reality and destroying his beliefs regarding acceptable party fashions.

Angrily phoning Bret to complain about his treatment and to pitch his thong thriller, Vinny gets even more annoyed when the miserly manager hangs up on him, preferring to spend his time snorting cocaine from between the buttocks of a smooth skinned Albania boy child than talk 'the horror'.

Or was that me whilst I was watching this?

Attending an afternoon press conference to promote her new movie 'Scream' (not that one)  Jana is fairly perturbed to receive a bunch of garage forecourt flowers and a hand scrawled note that reads, "You've made your last horror film." 

Spooky eh?

Hopefully whilst all this flower based creepiness is going on no-one has murdered the ferret-like Bret lying dead in his bathrobe cos that'd be really embarrassing for the poor guy.


Too late, as after arriving at his hotel room Jana comes across Bret's bloodied remains, his little thin legs sticking out over the bath like a couple of discarded twigs.

Like any modern, strong willed woman in the same situation she runs away screaming.

But on returning with Alan and the local police, the body has vanished.

Who saw that coming?

"That reminds me...I must order a turkey for Christmas."

Luckily this lurch forward in the plot doesn't stop the director from continuing to indulge in his travelogue fetish as we're soon back to endless footage of Jana wandering in and out of hotels intercut with crash zooms into movie posters.

Again.
He's not totally lost the -literal- plot tho' as Vinny (resplendent in a top hat and cloak) is still stalking Jana, sneakily filming her at every given opportunity before retiring to his hotel room to sweat.
After indulging in a tearful Pot Noodle obviously.

Realising quite late on that he's in a film about movie making but he hasn't met a single clichéd and oh so slightly offensive Jewish mogal yet, Vinny calls Marty Bernestein (Hollywood Blue writer Goldenberg) to ask if he'd be willing promote 'Death Wears a Second Hand Thong'.

Maybe by wearing a second hand thong.

Or a t-shirt bearing the title.

Alongside a thong.

Marty, putting taste before profit declines before heading off to an important meeting with Scream director Stanley Kline (the films real-life director and former West Side Story gang banger A-Rab, Winters, honestly you couldn't make this shite up or make it any more confusing) and his 'personal assistant' Susan Archer (the covergirl of the May 1970 issue of Playboy - Vol. 17, Issue 5, pg. 137-141 for anyone interested - and star of the fantastic Boy and His Dog Benton).

It appears that all three of them have received the same note as Jana and Bret.

But more upsetting that the note is the fact that they didn't receive any nice flowers with it.

In my eyes the only thing worse than a murdering psychotic bastard is a tight  murdering psychotic bastard.

Phew, I'm glad to get that off my chest finally.

The reason I know so much about that issue? I own it. 

With all the threatening notes, murders and obscene amounts of unnecessary   footage of topless starlets going about Marty decides to head down to the local police station and ask for some help.

Unfortunately all the police in France are foreign and show no interest in doing an honest days detecting, preferring to blame Marty for Bret's disappearance, accusing it of being a cheap publicity before snubbing their noses and such unworthy cinema as the horror genre then going home to burn British beef, watch Jerry Lewis 'comedies' and await the next chance to surrender to someone.*

Some French police yesterday deciding who should surrender to the wee boy first.

Heading back to his hotel to count his money and train a group of Victorian pick-pockets, Marty is (fairly) surprised to find a letter from Bret on his doormat.

It seems the alleged dead man wants to meet him at a local screening room to watch a film.

Bizarre.

When Marty shows up tho' it's all revealed to be a crazy misunderstanding as instead of Bret being there to meet him, he's greeted by a hooded figure wielding an axe.

Nice firm tummy, stunning breasts, fanny made from bananas.

With Vinny getting angrier by the minute and shouting at strippers whilst more and more of Jana's companions are being threatened in a variety of bizarre and brutal (well, just brutal really) ways, nervous (but still bouncy) Susan begs Stanley to leave Cannes with her that very night but Stan (being either immune to her charms or gay) convinces her that it'll be safer to stay a while longer.

Or at least until they've attended the premiere of For Your Eyes Only, as Stan has heard that it's a throwback to the old style of Bond movies before the gadgets took precedence over plot.

Bond: Back to basics.

Neither of them have the chance to find out tho' as that evening Stanley is stabbed to death by the hooded figure (well technically he's stabbed to death by a knife but you know what I mean) whilst a fleeing (and still very bouncy) Susan falls off a hotel roof after being shot in the arse by a pellet gun.

Every death twitch and scream filmed by the killers hidden camera.

Meanwhile across town, Vinny has stopped sweating for just long enough to buy a bottle of cheap plonk and break into Jana's hotel room, hoping this surprise gesture will win her over to appearing in his movie.

Stepping out of the shower (her golden thighs glistening in the harsh light of the uncovered 70 watt bulb), Jana is - not too surprisingly, a phrase that's been banded about a lot during this review, unlike the phrase 'utter fucking shite' which I'll no doubt get to later - none to impressed to find a pencil mustached pock faced perv sitting on the edge of her bed vigorously rubbing a champagne bottle so politely asks him to leave.

"Put it in me!"

This brush off, whilst fairly acceptable to us normal folk annoys the buggery out of the by now quite understandably fractious Vinny who, in retaliation smashes the bottle and threatens poor Jana with the jagged edge.

Is this really how Hollywood contracts are made?

Luckily the doorbell rings and scares Vinny momentarily (he obviously only has a knocker at home), giving Jana enough time to kick him in the happy sacks and leg it down the hotel corridor clad only in a towel.

Let's take a moment to picture this enduring image.

Yum.

Vinny, not content with taking "Fuck off you mentalist!" as an answer gives chase and is only stopped from catching the wet one when a group of photographers get him to pose for some photographs.

By this time Jana has come across (easy tiger!) Alan and after she explains the situation, our ginger prince offers to take her to a remote castle owned by his musician 'friend' Jonathan (Casey, the films associate producer) where she'll be safe from any mentalists lurking around.

Sorted.

But the next day, as Alan drives Jana to the castle of relative safety in the French countryside who should be following them but dear old Vinny.

You know that someone is going to 'accidentally' cop it in the next ten minutes when Vinny (who's gone from scary stalker to real-life Mr. Bump) breaks in hoping to get five minutes with Jana don't you?

Yup, alas poor Jonathan we hardly knew you.

Or cared if I'm honest.

Well the rest of the cast don't because as soon as they realisinge that they've been nominated for the coveted 'Scariest Picture of The Year' award for Scream (still not that one) our debonair duo return to Cannes for the ceremony, putting their lives on the line in the hope of winning the gold (plated) statuette, £75 spending money and two nights in Saltcoats.

On the way into the hastily decorated bingo hall being used to host the ceremony however they fail to notice the pock faced, sweaty policeman standing at the front door.

"You'll never shite in mah mooth ya bastard!"

Waiting outside the gents whilst Alan has a particularly painful bowel movement, Vinny manages to chloroform Jana before bundling her into the back of a car and driving all the way back to the castle.

It seems he has a final scene to film for his ultimate horror movie....

But from the shadows a mysterious hooded, camera carrying figure is watching quietly as the events unfold...

Multi-faceted Director/writer/producer/dancer David Winters (alongside co-writers Judd Hamilton and Tom Klassen) took Cannes by storm way back in 1981when they made the (fairly) bold and undeniably cheap decision to film The Last Horror Film without permits and guerrilla style on the towns streets actually during the festival.

And hats off to them for it because despite the low budget, pants dubbing and community halls posing as top range screening rooms they managed to produce quite a nifty little thriller with enough twists to keep you watching even when your brain is yelling turn it off.

Re-teaming the munchy cult starlet Munro and the criminally underrated Spinell from the murkily mucky William Lustig murder frenzy Maniac whilst populating the rest of the movie with various real life members of the crew adds a an almost surrealist quality to the film, aided as it is by the snatched footage of 'real life' stars arriving at screenings and on red carpets.

This blurring of reality and fiction is nowhere near as obvious as in the movies opening scenes where Spinell is seen reading an issue of Starburst Magazine that has a cover feature about the film he's actually acting in at that very moment.

It's like a lo-fi Charlie Kaufman slasher that seems to have popped thru' a crack in space/time from that weird alternate universe where Doctor Who was never cancelled, someone with a smidgen of talent illustrated the original Arrow DVD release of Inferno and where The Last Jedi wasn't shit.

Yes, it's that strange an experience.

But one I urge you to search out if you haven't already.

I'll be the first to admit that yes, it might be cheaper than your mum and tackier than your bed sheets but The Last Horror Film has a special kind of eighties charm that perfectly encapsulates the time and place wherein it was made.

Plus you get to see Caroline Munro in a towel.

And that's gotta be worth a quid of anyone's money.




























*I'd just like to point out that this is a JOKE. I actually love our French cousins and apologize wholeheartedly for Brexit. 

Tho' I've still not forgiven Cécile Fournier obviously.

fest your eyes on this.

Yup it's that time of year when Team Frightfest make their way oop nerth to 'sunny' Glasgow for their annual weekend of blood, sweat and fears and I recycle the last god knows how many previews so I don't have to come up with any new patter.

It's not like anyone reads this so frankly I can't see the point.

Anyway on with the show.

And what a show it promises to be as this year the film choice spans four continents, with two world, two European and six UK premieres.


And all from the relative comfort of your GFT seat.

The silver fox himself, Mr Alan Jones commented huskily (but not to me obviously):  

“Currently at its most vibrant and popular, the horror fantasy genre is constantly garnering critical acclaim, pushing boundaries and asking tough questions of audiences by reflecting relevant political and social issues. The genre isn’t just about escapism but a key tool to make sense of the chaos and confusion swirling around our everyday lives and FrightFest has known this for 20 years now, so it’s fantastic the rest of the world has finally woken up and smelt the coffins.”

Which is fair enough I guess.

As is the norm, the fest kicks off in style on Thursday 28th February with a special screening of LORDS OF CHAOS.

Based on the bestseller Lords of Chaos: The Bloody Rise of the Satanic Metal Underground by Michael Moynihan and Didrik Soderlind (and not I assume the Amiga game of the same name), the film traces the story of ‘Mayhem’ who were at the vanguard of the underground Norwegian music scene in the late 1980s before it all went tits up and folk died.
Bohemian Rhapsody this ain't.


There'll be considerably less bollock tickling mustaches for one thing.

Not this one.

Then it's straight to bed so you can all be up bright and early Friday to sit back and enjoy the UK premiere of director Danishka Esterhazy's LEVEL 16, a skin-crawling dystopian thriller about the mysterious Vestalis Academy, where young, orphans are meticulously trained in the art of being “clean girls,” and the virtues of perfect femininity. 

But what exactly are they being trained for?

I've no idea to be honest as I was sold by the phrase 'clean girls' but I reckon that there'll be even fewer bollock tickling mustaches here than in Lords of Chaos.

Which is none obviously.

A clean girl yesterday.

Next up is the European premiere of THE DEAD CENTER. Billy Senese’s slow burn shocker that tells the tale of an unidentified suicide victim who suddenly returns to life in Metro General Hospital morgue before wandering off, luckily medical examiner Edward Graham knows the John Doe’s real name but on a downside has no idea where the reanimated body has gone.

Meanwhile ace psychiatrist Daniel Forrester has recently come across a catatonic amnesiac who has mysteriously turned up in his ward....

Could it be the same man?

Blanket.

There's just time for a quick wee before the World premiere of Jack McHenry's HERE COMES HELL, described by a man as ‘Downton Abbey meets The Evil Dead’ it tells the scary story of a sophisticated 1930s soiree at an isolated country mansion that descends into carnage, gore and demonic possession as  a gateway to Hell is accidentally opened.

Which is nice.

Hopefully alongside all the promised gore there may be at least one bollock tickling mustache on show.

A nice big 1930s style one.

Fingers crossed.

Stance.

As day turns to night we have the UK premiere of Adrián García Bogliano’s BLACK CIRCLE  starring Swedish exploitation icon Christina Lindberg. Lindberg in a spooky story of 1970s vinyl albums and ghostly doppelgangers desperate to replace the originals.

Stare.

Rounding off Friday is the UK premiere of Ron Carlson’s DEAD ANT, an irresistible dose of sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll and humongous insects that's been referred to as Spinal Tap meets Them! by (another) man.

Tho' that maybe the same man as before.

I don't know.

I don't even know if he has a mustache.

Or even if he enjoys bollock tickling.

Tummy.

 It's back to the hotel for a tearful wank and a Pot Noodle in order to prepare for Saturday's shockers which 'kicks off' (not literally mind) with the UK premiere of Perry Blackshear’s expressive and atmospheric mermaid terror, THE RUSALKA.

Which is about, um, mermaids.

And probably killings.

Don't know too much about it other than it's been described as 'a wonderfully elegant nightmare' which works for me.

Lady.

There's just enough time to dry off before the World premiere of Lawrie Brewster's AUTOMATA which tells the story (thru' the medium of film obviously) of antique expert - as in he knows about old stuff, not that he's dead old) Brendon Cole who is summoned to authenticate a 300-year-old clockwork doll with a notoriously dark history known as The Inferno Princess.....

Mary doll.

 

We travel from Scotland to Denmark next (make the most of it as it'll be much harder post-Brexit) for the UK premiere of Søren Juul Petersen's FINALE.

Denmark has reached the finals of the European Championships of Football and everyone is glued to their TVs but at a small petrol station on the edge of town Agnes and Belinda have been chosen as players in a different altogether more gruesome game and no customers means no witnesses.

Expect blood, tears and a wee bit of deviant sexual behavior which may or may not involve bollock tickling.

Scream.

After a soapy communal bath and a slice of orange we hurriedly head to Korea (the nice part I assume) for Hoon-jung Park's smash hit THE WITCH PART 1: THE SUBVERSION, a hellzaboppin' reinvention of  the action genre where a gene-spliced child with superpowers take on the sinister organisation responsible for he condition with shocking and spectacular results.

Surprise.

Following this is the UK premiere of FREAKS, Zack Lipovsky and Adam Stein’s sci-fi thriller that centres on Chloe, a seven-year-old poppet who never leaves her ramshackle suburban home unless under the watchful eye of her paranoid pop who spends his spare time training his daughter to adopt an assumed identity if she’s ever separated from him, or to hide in a well-provisioned panic room if he should not return from one of his infrequent forays outside....

But why? you may ask.

You'll need to see it to find out.

Blood.

And rounding off this year’s feast of fearsome fancies is the UK premiere of spooky spoof THE HOARD, the latest from the team behind Pontypool and The Hexecutioners.

The ultimate reality show turns into the ultimate nightmare as a group of TV junk removers attempt to reform a legendary hoarder who owns four condemned and haunted properties.

What could possibly go wrong?

(Another more bloody) Scream.

FrightFest Passes are £75 and available from noon on Mon Jan 14, 2019. Passes cover all films on Fri 1 March and Sat 2 March ONLY.

Tickets for LORDS OF CHAOS, plus individual tickets for the Fri/Sat films are on sale Mon Jan 28 from 10am. Price: £11.00. £8.80 concessions.



And you can buy me a drink in the bar if you like.

plug!

For anyone interested I'm at Glasgow Horror Fest this weekend punting my wares like a Parisian whore so come along and buy something....I need new shoes.

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 80).

As requested by Ms Rollo Vellocet the mysterious and moody John Shackley AKA
Will Parker from The Tripods.

plug,

See Sergio Martino's classic giallo film complete with a performance by The Agents of Evolution and live VJ set and groovy tunes by myself and the enigmatic Doctor Peyton Alucard Reed III all under the banner of Profondo Mondo...

Tickets available here.

beanz meanz hinz(man).

Day 5 of the whole 31 days of horror thing and I've not given up yet - or gotten any new readers but hey ho it's early days.

Was helping the girls tidy their room last night and came across this jammed between a copy of The Boy In The Striped Pajamas and Spy Kids.

They really should know better I mean they are 13 after all.

But it did mean we could do some top quality father/daughters film bonding after homework.

Theirs not mine obviously.


Flesh Eater (AKA Zombie Nosh, Revenge of the Living Zombies. 1988).
Dir: Bill Hinzman. 
Cast : Bill Hinzman, John Mowod, Leslie Ann Wick, Lisa Smith, the local job seekers club and some tramps.

Well excuse me boss, I must've come up here with the wrong impression, I thought we were here to have fun!

Welcome to Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania in the good ol' (and by the look of it freezing centre of) US of A where a rag tag bunch of red-necked (and red faced) 'teenagers' are having a fun filled weekend wobbling about on the back of a tractor.

That's not all they have in mind tho' as their good times don't just end with a ride on some filthy farmyard machinery, you see they plan to spend the night in the woods getting drunk and 'making out'.

Whilst all these teen shenanigans are going on the local farmer Barney Moe has noticed that a huge hole has appeared in one of his fields, luckily for us (and the plot) he's not from Norfolk so doesn't try to fuck it but instead he has a little dig around and uncovers a rather unconvincing paper-mache stone with a scary inscription:

Beware! The bin men!

Upon further inspection our frightened farmer finds something much more terrifying, yup it's that bloke from the start of Night of The Living Dead still wearing the same threadbare suit and a coating of talc lying in the hole up to his elbows in mud.

Ladies and gentlemen please welcome Mr. Bill (my illustrious acting career) Hinzman!

But before Moe can ask how or why (or even to get his Alpha VHS signed) Hinzman has popped out of the ground and popped his teeth into the farmers neck.

Ouch.

Losing acting ability as quickly as he's losing blood our hapless chap falls woodenly (and quite carefully) to the ground shaking like an epileptic in a fridge.

Meanwhile a few miles away the teenage dirtbags, oblivious to all this naughty neck nibbling are indeed busying themselves getting drunk and, most disturbingly attempting to shag each other.

Yes indeed, the movie gives us a rare opportunity to watch two real and very camera conscious teenagers awkwardly making out in blindingly lit, acne revealing close-up.

You can almost imagine director Hinzman, one hand on the zoom button and one down his trousers shouting "Touch her titties!" from just off screen as the pair  clumsily go thru' the motions, the boy praying that the girls bra strap doesn't stick for fear of Hinzman giving him a kicking.

Or a sickly hicky.

"Blood in mah mooth!"

Thankfully, Hinzman soon jumps in front of the camera and proceeds to put the zit-faced teens (and us) out of their misery via a rusty pitchfork thru' the chest and a rubber heart removal cum breast fondle before stumbling off  to menace the rest of the cast, each victim rising from the grave as a member of the undead.

Either that or they're all high on crack or cheap cider.

It's probably a good time to point out that the subtle tit touch from Hinzman doesn't appear to be at all accidental seeing as at any point during the movie whenever a female is called upon to be attacked it's our erstwhile director doing the biting, invariably squeezing one of her breasts as he does it.

It's almost as if it were planned this way so as to give him a chance to get his sweaty sausage fingers on some young virginal flesh.

Or maybe I'm just pissed of that I never thought of it first.

Either way before long there are at least a dozen (OK I'm being kind) of the undead (some with ladybreasts some without) wandering aimlessly around the forest in search of a half decent script whilst the surviving (non molested) teens decide to barricade themselves in a dilapidated farmhouse much like that other Bill Hinzman zombie movie*.

That reminds me, the gammon in the fridge has gone off.

Obviously the zombies have seen it tho' and decide to attack before the refurbishments are finished, eating all of the main cast except for the two leads (no doubt the directors daughter and her boyfriend), leaving them with no choice but to run away in the hope of extending the movies running time to a full 90 minutes.

Not too surprisingly the undead give chase.

Fairly slowly obviously but it's the thought that counts.


At this point the film degenerates into a tourist guide to the woods and hedgerows of Beaver Falls (with added random murders and nudity) before showing off the interior design of the sound guys house (complete with nude babysitter) and finally showing us how the locals spend their weekends by climaxing with a barn-based fancy dress party.

Which not too surprisingly Hinzman and his zombie buddies soon turn into a blood bath, possibly because the revelers fancy dress outfits were a lot more impressive than the movies actual make-up.

Shockingly for the amount of females present there's precious little tittie touching in this scene but big bad Bill does manage to grope a teenage cheerleaders ample arse as she tries to escape up a ladder so that's OK then.

"Put it in me!"

This extreme form of trick or treating (well it is Halloween night) continues unabated for what seems like several days before the local police and fire department, aided and abetted by a group of gun crazed locals finally turn up and kill everything before setting fire to a farm and, in a scene totally unlike the end of NOTLD accidentally kill the surviving teens with a bullet to the head and a nail in the coffin of independent film making.

Flesh Eater on Bluray?...Isn't that a wee bit like making Ridley Scott reshoot Alien with the lights on?

 Mumbling, bumbling and drunkenly stumbling across the screen like an Alzheimer's riddled drunken uncle, William Hinzman shows himself to be the original one-trick convention guest with this threadbare vanity project designed for the sole reason of playing on his 'fame' as the cemetery zombie, a role he also returned to in John Russo's abysmal NOTLD anniversary edition and no doubt various supermarket, envelope and eyelid openings.

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

Whilst there's nowt wrong with the fella making a few bob off the back off a fleeting appearance in a hit movie (just check the guest list for any Collectormania event) there's something not right in seeing the source of that fame dragged out and violently buggered in front of you.

Which is effectively what Hinzman attempts to do to Night in this truly abhorrent tribute cum sequel.

Shot with all the skill of Jill Dando's gunman from a script consisting of a series of random ideas hastily scribbled on the back of a used tissue and acted out by a collection of Ikea furniture, Flesh Eater brings nothing to the undead table except the idea that middle-aged zombies adore teen tits.

"Little Mix number one for Christmas...MONSTA!"

No budget, no imagination and no mercy, Flesh Eater by it's very nature is a must see movie if for no other reason than to show that George Romero was indeed the talented one behind Night of The Living Dead dspite what Hinzman and John Russo might have you believe.

Oh and the fact that it makes Survival of The Dead almost watchable.

Tomorrow something better.

I promise.












































*Not this one tho'.....this one.

it'll be alright on the fright.

Yup it's that time of year again when hundreds of horror geeks plus half dozen sweaty, high waisted folk who live at home with their mums (who will never die!) descend on my fair city ready to soak the streets (and seats) with the unmistakable smell of sweat, shame, semen and tears.


And when I cut and paste the previous paragraph from the year before.


And the year before that.


Add to that the fact that this is the only time I can copy wholesale from PR handouts makes me wonder why it takes as long as it does.



Oh yes, that's right it's because I'm fucking useless.

Thanks to all of you who email this blog to remind me of that fact.

It means a lot.

Anyway back to the matter in hand which is that our lovely pals at Frightfest have announced the 2017 line-up for sunny Glasgow.

Kicking off with not one but two Thursday night pre-fest films (especially for all you soft southern shites who are too feart to go to the pub) before starting good n' proper on Friday afternoon, this years fest promises a dozen cinematic delights covering everything from ancient Chinese myths to savage shark action via city stomping lizards all from the wipe-clean seats of the comfy as fuck Glasgow Film Theatre.

Which by the way is a posh word for cinema.

So without further ado here's the list of treats in store for you lucky, lucky people.

A Cure for Wellness (USA 2017)
Dir: Gore Verbinski.
Cast: Dane DeHaan, Mia Goth, Jason Isaacs and Celia Imrie. .

From the director of The Ring remake (but don't let that put you off) comes this Twilight Zone-ish tale of an ambitious, slick haired young executive sent to retrieve his company’s CEO from an idyllic but mysterious 'wellness' centre at a remote location in the Swiss Alps.

But as is the way with such things (especially in horror movies) all is not what it seems and our brylcreem-bonced beau is soon battling bright lights and bizarro dreams within dreams after coming across a room of giant test tubes filled with old men in nappies.


Expect spooky scares, well styled hairs and big-chinned, button-nosed babe Mia Goth (soon to be seen in the Suspiria remake) writhing around naked in a bath of eels.


Which works for me if I'm honest.

"Put it in me!" - Mia Goth in a bath of eels yesterday. Fair enough.

Phantasm: Remastered (USA 1979)
Director: Don Coscarelli.
Cast: Michael Baldwin, Bill Thornbury, Angus Scrimm and Sir Reggie of Bannister.

Look.

It's fucking Phantasm.

Remastered in 4K.

And on the big screen.

What more do I need to say?


If you don't adore this movie you can fuck off right now.

Cinematic genius.

"CHILD!"

The Warrior’s Gate (France/China 2016)
Dir: Matthias Hoene.
Cast: David Bautista, Sienna Guillory, Ni Ni, Uriah Shelton, Tom Baker, Lalla Ward and Matthew Waterhouse (possibly).

Steve Gallagher's classic tale of Time Lords, time-winds and time sensitive man-lions gets the big screen treatment from Luc Besson and Cockney’s vs. Zombies Matthias Hoene.

They seem to have changed the plot a wee bit tho', transporting the action from E-Space to ancient China and replacing The Doctor with a hapless teenager named Jack who, instead of freeing a time/space fairing group of lions from slavery must  use his awesome video gaming skills to bring peace to the warring kingdom.

Hang on, I have a feeling it might be a different thing altogether and just have a similar title to the 1981 Doctor Who story.

Hmmm...We shall have to wait and see but I can probably say with some certainty that the lovely Ni Ni (star of the 2011 film The Flowers of War) wont appear naked in a bath of eels at any point.

Which is a shame but heyho.

As Jimmy Nail would say..."Crocodile Shoes!" - Sorry I meant "He's Lion!"

It Stains the Sands Red (USA 2016)
Director: Colin Minihan.
Cast: Brittany Allen, Juan Riedinger and Merwin Mondesir.

From Colin Minihan and Stuart Ortiz, who brought you Grave Encounters and Extraterrestrial (not that one) comes the story of  party hearty Molly who, after a horrendous flesh-eating apocalypse - as opposed to a non-horrendous happy one - finds herself stranded in the desert with only a ravenous and relentless zombie for company.

With nary a bath of eels or weapons to hand our heroine must attempt to outrun a stalker who has no need of rest.

Or even to stop for a wee.

In a world gone mad Molly begins to realize that this creeping cadaver is now her only link to reality.

"Keep those eels away from me!"

The Transfiguration (US, 2016)
Director: Michael O’Shea.
Cast: Eric Ruffin, Chloe Levine and Aaron Moten.

Orphaned African-American teen Milo in an attempt to escape his depressing life has drenched himself in vampire lore gleaned from such horrors as Nosferatu,  Let the Right One In, The Lost Boys and Near Dark, and has taken to sublimating his morbid fantasies bloodsucking on strangers.

But it’s when he befriends the equally troubled Sophie (whom he discovers in a bath of eels....hopefully) that a clear course of action presents itself providing liberation and tragic redemption. 

Or so the official write-up says.

Director Michael O’Shea’s film has been described as "A nihilistic meditation on millennial angst and the defense mechanisms needed to protect the vulnerable spirit." by someone quite possibly a lot cleverer than me so I'll just say
expect a modern version of Romero's Martin but on an even smaller budget.

If that were possible.

Just in case you'd forgotten.

Shin Godzilla (Japan 2016)
Dir: Hideaki Anno and Shinji Higuchi.
Cast: Hiroki Hasegawa, Yutaka Takenouchi, Satomi Ishihara and Gojira.

The first Japanese Godzilla movie since 2004's Godzilla: Final Wars, Shin Godzilla (the 31st film in the Godzilla franchise, the 29th Godzilla film produced by Toho, and Toho's third reboot of the franchise fact fans) sees The King of the Monsters majestic return to the big screen (but not alas in a bath of giant eels) with his fire-breathing, stomping sights once more set on Tokyo once more.

Excited?

You should be.

"If you're happy and you know it clap your.....oh."

Happy Hunting (USA 2016)
Dir: Joe Dietsch and Louie Gibson.
Cast: Martin Dingle Wall, Ken Lally, Kenny Wormald and Connor Willimas.

When piss-stained drifter Warren turns up in the small town of Bedford Flats looking for a bed and a bath (no doubt full of eels) he's surprised to discover that the locals enjoy nothing better than rounding up drifters and hunting them as part of an elaborate sporting event.

Which is nice.

It's Turkey Shoot meets The Most Dangerous Game via The Purge and your mum in what promises to be a blood soaked battle royale.

"She did WHAT in her cup?"

Cage Dive (Australia 2017)
Director: Gerald Rascionato.
Cast: Joel Hogan, Josh Potthoff, Megan Peta Hill, Suzanne Dervish-Ali and some sharks.

Deciding to film an audition tape for submission to an extreme reality game show - and realizing that someone else has already done a tape of them wriggling naked in a bath of eels -  three friends from California travel to Australia in order to document themselves taking part in a wee bout of shark cage diving.

But while on the dive, a catastrophic turn of events leaves them in baited water full of hungry Great White Sharks and turns there audition tape into a survival diary.

Which lets be honest sounds much more fun than if everything had gone without a hitch.

Plus there's a chance that one of the stars of The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader may get ripped limb from limb which is worth a quid in anyones book.

"What do you call a shark with no eyes?" "Blind."

Fashionista (USA 2016)
Dir: Simon Rumley.
Cast: Amanda Fuller, Ethan Embry and Eric Balfour.

After Red, White and Blue and Johnny Garrett’s Last Word comes mighty bearded director Simon Rumley’s third  Austin, Texas based shocker.

This De Palma-esque nightmare is a hypnotic and bracing exploration of identity, body image and transformation via the wacky world of vintage clothing where hipster shop owners April and Eric find their marriage on rocky ground when she begins to suspect her husband of having an affair.

No doubt she finds incriminating pics of him sharing a bath with a beautiful blonde.

And some eels obviously.

When her suspicions are confirmed, April seeks sexual validation with the mysterious and kinky Randall setting off a chain reaction of stylish fever dream madness, fantasy role-playing ("Juliet Bravo!") and chic ultra-shriek.

Oh and possibly some vintage action slacks of the kind worn by Chuck Norris in the 70s.

Less Blue Velvet more Blue Broderie Anglaise Dress Fabrics but with a hint of savage bumming, if nothing else the fashions will look nice so that's me sold.

"Can you smell petrol?"

Bloodlands (Australia/Albania 2016)
Dir: Steven Kastrissios.
Cast: Gëzim Rudi, Emiljano Palali and Suela Bako.


The first ever collaboration between Australia and Albania (is you don't count the sordid back alley sex session my Uncle Brian from Queensland had with an exchange student in the 80s) comes a bizarre Balkan-based bloodbath written and directed by Steven Kastrissios, the man who gave us the genuinely disturbing The Horseman.

If you've not seen this little gem go see it now, I'll still be here when you get back.

To be honest I'll probably still be typing.

Rooted in the very real phenomenon of blood feuds still plaguing Albania (think Govan but with fewer pikeys) a struggling Albanian family, wrestling with traditions and superstition, must unite against another mysterious mountain clan’s aggressions.

I predict beard-based bloodletting and a variety of sweaty vests.

Fear the Shtriga!

Detour (UK 2016)
Dir: Christopher Smith.
Cast: Tye Sheridan, Emory Cohen, Bel Powley and Stephen Moyer.

This 'tense, deftly constructed noir thriller' (it says on the production notes) from Christopher (Creep, Severance, Black Death and Triangle) Smith finds law student Harper suspecting his stepdad Vincent of causing the car crash that landed his mother in a coma so when a chance meeting with a tough, tattooed  redneck and his girlfriend gives him an opportunity to discover the truth our student pal begins a terrifying road trip of revenge and random violence.


Which is probably what it's like for folk traveling up from London for this.

Raw (France/Belgium 2016)
Dir: Julia Ducournau.
Cast: Garance Marillier, Ella Rumpf and Rabah Nait Oufella.

Shy vegetarian Justine (who looks uncannily like Cécile Fournier*) whilst attending her first year at veterinarian college is forced into eating raw liver in a bizarre initiation ceremony by the older students.

But soon she develops an unhealthy taste for meat and her new carnivore persona drives her to commit acts of increasing savagery as her unquenched sexual urges turn into an appetite for human flesh.

Which is exactly like the aforementioned Ms Fournier if I remember correctly.

"Sniff my finger!"

Hounds of Love (Australia 2016)
Dir: Ben Young.
Cast: Emma Booth, Ashleigh Cummings, Stephen Curry and Susie Porter.

We head back 'Down Under' now for a true (sorta) life tale of torture and touches (of an inappropriate kind).

Which sounds like a normal Saturday evening in Glasgow.

It's the mid 1980s (an era which still haunts me if I'm honest) and 17 year old Vicki Maloney has just been randomly abducted from a suburban street by a disturbed serial-killing couple.

A disturbed serial-killing couple with very bad hair.

Look that kinda shit is important to me so cut me some slack.

Anyway as she observes the dynamic between her captors she quickly realizes that in order to survive she must drive a wedge between them.


As in turn them against each other not fashion a huge triangular piece of wood from a discarded table and run at them with it.


Tho' saying that I've not actually seen the film so it might happen.

"When I was a child
Running in the night
Afraid of what might be

Hiding in the dark
Hiding in the street
And of what was following me

Nowget in the back of the car or I'll fucking chib you ya cunt!"

 
Night of the Virgin (Spain 2016)
Dir: Roberto San Sebastián.
Cast: Javier Bódalo, Miriam Martín and Víctor Amilibia.

At a New Year’s Eve party, nerdy and naïve Nico sets out to lose his virginity after 'striking out' (no I don't know what that means either) with some drunken 'babes' comes across (not in that way, well not yet) uber MiLF Medea.

Who let's be honest is probably younger than me.

Before he knows what’s happening he’s back in Medea’s filthy apartment where sinister Asian artefacts adorn the shelves, cockroaches crawl the floors and an ancient prophecy rears its head.

And if that wasn't enough there's a rowdy party of homosexualists next door and a very jealous ex-boyfriend waiting in the wings.

"Shite in mah....well shite anywhere you like actually."

Unfortunately for those who were looking forward to it there's still no showing of Evil Bod which has been turned down (again) by the organizers for being shit.

Oh well, there are plenty of DVD's still available for anyone who's interested.
 
But other than that it looks set to be a magnificent weekend of movie mayhem.

Frightfest Glasgow runs from Thursday 23 to Saturday 25 February and tickets can be bought here.

 See you there.



























*Who? I hear you cry. Well if you're really that interested (and you wouldn't have scrolled all the way down if you weren't) you can find out more here. I'll warn you tho' you may need tissues - and not just for the Zombie Lake review