the late late deadfast show.

Been preparing for Solo: A Star Wars Story by rewatching some of the best hunky man-based sci-fi epics I can find.

And what better movie to start of with than....

Warriors of The Year 2072 (AKA Fighting Centurions, Rome, 2072 A.D., The New Gladiators. 1984).
Dir: Lucio Fulci.
Cast: Jared Martin, Fred Williamson, Howard Ross, Eleonora Brigliadori, Cosimo Cinieri, Claudio Cassinelli, Al Cliver, Haruiko Yamanouchi, Penny Brown, Valerie Jones and Donal O'Brien.

"It was maths that saved us!"

It's the near future (2072 to be precise but I guess you knew that) and  - after a nuclear war probably - all of planet Earth's major cities have been rebuilt using Lego, egg boxes and toilet rolls, topped off with Christmas tree lights.

The only outlet for the citizens of this new square world order are violent teevee shows (well two of them) broadcast daily to keep the populace subdued and entertained.

Purves: Purveyor of teevee violence and fan of Steven's tailor.

The biggest of these is 'Death Bike', a cross between Junior Kick Start (albeit without Peter Purves) and a Friday night out in the centre of Dudley where a bunch of mad men on motorcycles kick seven shades of shite out of each other until only one is left standing.

Well, sitting actually.

On a bike.

Obviously.

Undefeated world champion of Death Bike is the enigmatically bubble-permed Drake (Martin, pigeon chested star of teevee's Dallas, War of the Worlds and Fantastic Journey) but more of him later.

The other show is called 'Pretend Scares' or something similar and features (from what I can gather from the little amount of it shown) a sweaty woman with hi-tech wires attached to her head watching clips of old Fulci movies and having to pretend that:

A. It's real.

and

B. She's not really scared.

It'll come as no surprise to find that ratings for this have been slipping more than Michael J Fox on an icy path, so the makers of 'Pretend Scares' (after failing to get 'Bastards Hole' past the pilot stage) decided to resurrect the age old idea of the gladiatorial arena.

Huge cotton bud or tiny lady?

This ultra-violent battle of the damned will see twelve convicted killers (but not Dave Vanian) slug it out in a modern day Roman Coliseum until only one survives.

To make certain it'll be a sure fire ratings winner, the slimy teevee executive in charge, Bob Cortez (an unusually clean shaven Cassinelli) decides to firstly employ Chris Chibnall as show runner before hiring what looks like Spandau Ballet to murder Drake's hot young wife and then framing him for their subsequent murder.

Really it does make sense when you watch it.

Bigger than Trumps.

Taken in chains to the training area before being given a sexy bracelet (tho' no pearl necklace) that can administer pain, Drake is introduced to his fellow combatants including genre king Al Cliver as the hunky Kirk, The Last Hunter's Yamanouchi and Fred Williamson as the super suave Tommy Abdul.

There are a few other folk but frankly none of them are that memorable.

Under the auspice of evil trainer Frank Raven (Ross from such classics as The New York Ripper, Naked Werewolf Woman and Poppea: A Prostitute in Service of the Emperor) Drake endures, oh, minutes of torture and bench presses before he begins to break the corporations programming.

It seems that he's starting to realise that he didn't kill Tony Hadley and co. after all and that it may a massive conspiracy.

Luckily the janitor of the faculty, an ex-racer named Monk (Doctor Butcher himself, O'Brien), is an old friend of Drakes who had to leave show business after accidentally melting his face in a freak infomercial recording and who now along with his sexy computer boffin sidekick Sarah (the fantastically fringed ultra-MILF Brigliadori from Beyond Kilimanjaro, Across the River of Blood and, um, my dreams) have decided to investigate Drake's story, uncovering as they do a plot by Junior (the sentient computer that runs the station) to do some bad stuff to folk.

Oh yes and take over the world.

Luckily our heroes have a plan.

"OK muthafuckas! Who's
ready for a mooth shite-in?"

Whilst Sarah goes to visit Junior's creator, Monk makes our hero swallow a magic silver Lego brick that enables him to open doors and turn off force-fields by simply pulling his cum face and it's with this special gift our hero plans his escape.

Whilst all this sex face fun is going on, Sarah has gone to visit Professor Towman (Murder Rock's Cinieri, tastefully covered head to toe in gravy and with a red spot daubed on his forehead), the inventor of Junior to see if the computer could really be mental.

He reckons not but gives Sarah a special key to his control room and a box of plans to turn him off just in case.

Which is pretty bloody lucky seeing as the next instant he's shot and killed as is - the not as attractive as Sarah - Sybil (Brown, the costume designer on Fatal Frames) a bad lady that was sent to follow our heroine (to pick up fashion tips I reckon).

Would you believe it tho' because Monk was also following Sarah (and by default Sybil) and manages to sneak Sarah out of the building under his coat and back to the studio in time to see Drake and his merry band recaptured and made to do sweaty press-ups over an electric floor as punishment.

"And here come the Belgians!"

As the clock counts down and the contestants are preparing for battle, Sarah races to find the key to stopping Junior and save humanity from death by crafty computer....

Claudio Cassinelli checks out the
official Fred Williamson night light.

His slash-tastic horror tendencies exhausted (for a short while at least) after the sleazy hate-fest that was The New York Ripper, Lucio Fulci decided to take time out from spooky scares and throat cutting (well, maybe not from throat cutting) to bring us this fantastically accurate prediction of the rise of reality teevee and corporate whoredom, never realising how prophetic the films concepts were to become.

His trademark visual style, surreal plotting and (sometimes over) use of extreme close-ups (usually of actors pulling what appear to be officially termed their 'sex faces') are all present and correct, adding a sense of the comfortable to the otherwise alienating futuristic feel of the film and Fulci's predilection for copious amounts of blood and violence firmly place the characters in the here and now for it seems that no matter how shiny and silver the future will become blood will always be deep red.

The cast with it's familiar Fulci regular faces and smooth, mini-skirted thighs (yes, that's you Eleonora Brigliadori) play their roles with a stoic, earnest conviction rarely seen outside the Hallmark Channels true life drama output whilst Fred Williamson, so obviously on autopilot whilst awaiting his delivery of malt beer and cigars, is still better than any number of similarly disinterested actors not named Fred Williamson tho' if I'm honest it's scary to see chisel jawed sex pest Al Cliver slowly morph into a puffy cheeked hamster during the duration of a movie.

Eleonora Brigliadori today,
just because I can.

Three years before Arnie became The Running Man, Jared Martin was The Biking Bully and Fulci was showing the world the future as would be.

Genius? Prophet? Mad man or just lucky?

Or a mix of all four?

YOU decide!

golden shot.

No I haven't forgotten you all just been busy working*, sleeping and doing bizarre real-life stuff like writing about Autism.

Anyway I picked this beauty up as part of a Sonny Chiba box set (packaged alongside The Bullet Train and GI Samurai) from our local charity shop the other day for a bargainous £3 as I'd realised that I didn't actually have a copy.

Well I did once but that was on VHS.

And it was about 25 years ago.

Honestly that story sounded much more interesting in my head.

Sonny Chiba up a tree....kay eye cee kay eye en gee a man in the throat. Sorry, that caption is really, really shit.

Golgo 13: Assignment Kowloon (AKA Golgo 13, ゴルゴ13 九竜の首 Gorugo Sātīn Kûron no kubi, 1977).
Dir: Yukio Noda.
Cast: Sonny Chiba, Callan Leung, Etsuko Shihomi, Chi-Chung Lee, Jerry Ito, Lai Dut and loads of other folk that you can find online if you're really bothered, I mean I bet you don't even read this bit - you go straight to see if there's any nude pics.

Somewhere off the coast of Miami, sharp-suited drug lord Barry Badman has hired the infamous Action Man haired assassin Golgo 13 (Chiba...nuff said) to 'take out' one of the mob who's been discovered stealing cash and chocolate biscuits from the drug gang clubhouse.

Offering our (anti) hero $150,000 and a family sized packet of Hobnobs in return for killing 'The Kingpin'.

But not this one obviously.

Without further ado Golgo heads off to Hong Kong but not before shooting a couple of the drug bosses henchmen in the head - and off a balcony - for a laugh.

Actually come to think of it that would technically class as further ado really wouldn't it?

Anyway it's in Hong Kong where we (the audience) meet the character who will be cast as Golgo's nemesis for the next 90 odd minutes, the dashing detective Robert 'Smithy' Smith (not his real name) - played to sweaty perfection by Callan Leung - a straight down the line cop obsessed with taking down the Kingpin himself.

We know this as there's a helpful montage showing him roughing up a variety of small time drug dealers and raiding exotic dance clubs.

Which is nice work if you can get it.

Shit....(Far) East 17 have let themselves go.

It's at one such dance club that we finally get to meet the notorious Kingpin as well as give the cameraman a chance to have a wee cheeky lingering look at the laydees who work there.

Which tonight includes a cutsey tomboy chucking knifes at some poor extra in a glittery bra tied to a plank of wood.

And who says that Hong Kong wasn't more cuultured under British rule?

Surprisingly it turns out that the knife thrower is actually an undercover cop named Larry Lam (the fantastic Etsuko Shihomi from Sister Street Fighter) who after months of working at the club - as well as at the local holiday camp judging the nobbly knees contest - has managed to plant a listening device in the Kingpins office where she (over)hears him discussing the arrival of the latest shipment of drugs.

Following him to an old rubber factory she sneaks in to find a fully functioning cocaine lab (or is it a secret lemonade factory? - I can never tell) and quickly leaves to radio for help, unfortunately she's shot and roughly grabbed by the bad boys who decided to use her as a novelty wall ornament, hanging her - as is their want - to a wall before flicking fags, salted peanuts and lit matches at her smooth tummy.

Bastards.

"He did what in his cup?"

Luckily some kids playing near the rubber factory come across her discarded radio and inform the police who rush to the scene guns a-blazing and flairs a-flapping.

Except those wearing snazzy 'colonial' police shorts and long socks - of which there are a frightening amount - obviously.

Unfortunately poor Lam is killed in the crossfire and the building explodes leaving Smith red faced and bare arsed, the Kingpin off the hook and me confused as to the flammability of rubber.

With this explosive action sequence out of the way it's back to the main plot where we discover that the Kingpin is working alongside an evil diplomat named Ronan Polanski from the Peranian Republic in order to smuggle nasty drugs into Hong Kong via his diplomatic bags.

And most probably up his still peachy arse.

Polanski (Ito) it seems is even more of a rotter than the Kingpin, for not only is he dealing the drugs but he's also shagging the Kingpin's missus whilst planning to sell out absolutely everyone to the witch-hunting FBI in exchange for protection, a new identity and a big TeeVee.

What a complete bastard.

Somewhere to park your bike at least.

With both action sequence delivered and all the important plot points explained it's time to get back to Golgo 13, who on arrival in Hong Kong checks into a swanky hotel under the fan-pleasing moniker of  "Duke Togo" before building his super sniper rifle which he had mailed to him in a series of  wooden crate marked "drilling supplies" like some nightmarish DeAgostini partwork.

Unlike DeAgostini tho' all the packages come at once (just like your mum and sister - or so your uncle Jim says) (who knew it was that easy?) so he hasn't got to wait around for 2 years spending hundreds of pounds only to find a bit missing.

Even the office comes flat-packed.

With his unpacking done and with time to kill (as opposed to bad guys) Golgo/Duke heads out to the Kingpin's nightclub to gather information, sitting in a darkened corner booth and mysteriously whilst checking out the local talent and having a few drinks obviously.

It's whilst he's there that our hero comes across (not in that way which I'll admit is surprising for a Japanese movie) Polanski's moppet daughter who takes a shine to Golgo and refers to him as 'The Dragon Man'.

Which is nice.

Maybe he'll see some good in Polanski later or spare his life for his daughter?

Nah, the film-makers will probably forget all about this caring side to him and have Golgo shoot Polanski in the face whilst his daughter sits on his lap during a daring helicopter escape at the films climax.

Who knows?

It's not all product placement whiskey drinking, stroking weans on the head and long lingering looks at Mrs Kingpin tho, as on the way back to his hotel Golgo happens across a disgruntled prostitute in the middle of an argument with her pimp who she shoots dead.

Hang on is this Hong Kong or Dudley?

Taking pity on the poor woman, our hero holds her tightly as the police arrive and tells them that they were having a wee cuddle in the alley when a bad man ran by and shot the pimp, luckily the police (including Smith) believe Golgo and head off in pursuit.

The night's excitement isn't over yet tho' for as Golgo is walking the woman back to her boat eight of the pimps pals appear from nowhere with the intention of giving our hero a bloody good kicking.

Have they not seen The Street Fighter?

Obviously not as Golgo almost immediately kills five of them (and that's just by staring at them harshly) before putting two others in hospital and administering a severe kicking to the others arse.

Suffice to say it's all over in a flash and he's soon waving the woman (whom we'll call Brenda) off before heading back to his hotel to clean the shit off his shoes.

Eye son.

Golgo wakes bright and early the next morn as he prepares for 'the hit' (remember? the reason he's actually in Hong Kong), taking up position overlooking the swimming pool where the Kingpin is getting an award for something or other but mere seconds before he squeezes the trigger, someone else shoots the Kingpin dead.

Annoyed at the thought of someone stealing his thunder Golgo heads off to see his old mentor One-Eyed Ralph Jenkins**, an ex-assassin who now runs a fish and chip shop in Sham Shui Po.

Jenkins warns Golgo to be careful as Assassinating is a young mans game and there will always be someone vying for your job.

A wee bit like blogging then.

But without copious amounts of sexy Oriental babes throwing themselves at you obviously.

Obsessed with discovering the identity of the killer (tho' fuck knows why I mean he'll still get paid) Golgo heads back to the bar to pump Mrs Kingpin for information.

And by that I mean have sex with.

Turns out that the whole thing was planned by Polanski and that Mrs Kingpin had hoped that Golgo would turn up so she could kill him too.

But our hero is on to the whole scheme and no sooner has he shot his muck over her ample arse he's fired an altogether more lethal load on her face.

And by lethal load I mean bullets.

Well one bullet.

But by face I do actually mean her face.

So that's OK then.

Put it in me!

Aware that Golgo is on his trail, Polanski hightails it to Japan to meet  the FBI with Golgo in hot(tish) pursuit.

And by that I mean actually on the same plane, which gives him ample opportunity to continue 'bonding' with Polanski's poppet princess.

By some bizarre stroke of luck 'Smithy' Smith is also on the plane, partly to visit his cute as a button sister Angela - who's studying in Kyoto - but mainly to follow Golgo and Polanski for some reason.

Maybe he fancies a threesome?

I know I would.

Anyway upon landing Golgo sneakily follows Polanski around all the tourist spots before recording his entire FBI-based conversation on a sexy Sony HandyCam camcorder he just happened to have in his pocket.

Whilst all this surveillance stuff is going down Smithy has been busy chatting to the local police in the hope of finding any dirt on either Polanski or Golgo (apart from all the killings obviously) but due to the formers diplomatic immunity and Golgo's sexy hair he discovers that he can't arrest either of them.

Not even a wee bit.

I blame Brexit myself.

Down but not out Smithy decides to follow Golgo anyway but not before having lunch with his sis and taking a trip on the bullet train, which nicely ties in with director Junya Satō's The Bullet Train ((新幹線大爆破, Shinkansen Daibakuha) which also features in this boxset and is said to be the inspiration for Speed.

The film that is not the drug.

Phew glad that's cleared up.

"Slate and Vera Lynn?"

After all this touristy stuff Smithy soon locates Golgo at his hotel and tries perform a citizens arrest only to be informed that he has no jurisdiction in Japan and that anyway Golgo could take him with one hand tie behind his back.

And another up an Emu's arse.

It's not too surprising then that fisticuffs ensue that leave Smithy looking a wee bit disheveled and Golgo free to continue following Polanski - who is, as we speak, flying back to Hong Kong where he quickly informs the police that Duke/Golgo are one in the same.

"Pull my finger!"

With the police desperately hunting Golgo thru' Kowloon's market district, our hero jumps from bus roof to telegraph pole in order to evade them and lose his pistol before they catch him (it appears that it was illegal for notorious hitmen to carry guns in 70s Hong Kong....who knew?) so it's pretty lucky when he bumps into Brenda (you remember the prostitute he saved earlier) who grabs his weapon and quickly hides it up her arse just as Smithy and co. grab him by the boondocks.

Roughly taken up the station and tied to a chair Golgo is given the full bad cop/badder cop shiny lampface treatment before the cops realise that they have fuck all on him and may get into trouble for basically duffing up a tourist.

And with this they let him go.

Heading back to his hotel to prepare for the hit (well you have to admit for a film about a crack assassin there's been precious little assassinating - cracked or otherwise) Golgo notices an abandoned construction site and being a fan of Liebherr Tower Cranes goes in to investigate.

Unfortunately a gang of Polanski's hired thugs are lying in wait (or to be more precise sitting in a digger) and attack him.

Golgo, being hard as nails, easily beats the bad men to a pulp (not even their high-viz jackets and safety goggles can save them) but as he's impaling their ringleader on a splintered chairleg he's shot in the leg ruining the cut of his immaculate white suit.

Needing medical attention but unable to go to a hospital (again for reasons), Golgo collapses in the mud only to be found by Brenda who carries him back to her houseboat, tends his wounds and has 'the sex' with him.

Stitched up, sexed up and refreshed after a few days of sweaty water-based passion Golgo quietly leaves the love nest to prepare for the showdown with Polanski, leaving Brenda a necklace (but thankfully not a pearl one) as a thank you.

"Peow!"

Ever increasingly worried that it's nearly the end of the film and Golgo hasn't made an attempt on his life yet, Polanski heads off to a highly fortified island off the Chinese coast where the FBI have set up a safe house that's not only monitored by dozens of cardboard box-like closed-circuit TV cameras but protected by a squad of hired goons with big guns.


Smithy deciding that sailing out to the island with a gung-ho war party is less likely to cause a diplomatic incident than just, you know giving all the evidence he's amassed on Polanski to his superiors and taking it from their storms the beach with all guns blazing whilst Polanski orders his FBI handler to take a motorboat to the mainland in the hope that the police - thinking it's the dirty diplomat will follow him.

Sounds legit.

Who am I to argue tho' as this seems to do the trick because no sooner have Smithy and co. caught up with the boat than a helicopter appears overhead to pick up Polanski and his daughter.

But where is Golgo? I hear you cry.

Well by this point, our hero has swum onto the beach and free-climbed up the side of a sheer cliff face, where he now waits, swinging from an assassins hammock tenderly stroking massive weapon.

As the helicopter flies overhead taking Polanski to freedom Golgo takes aim and fires, hitting Polanski right between the eyes, his daughter watching in horror as his limp, lifeless body crashes into the water, his notebook detailing all the dodgy drug deals in Hong Kong lying in the water ready to be collected by Smithy.

All kinds of everything remind me of you.

As Golgo goes to the airport to fly home the obsessed copper is waiting for him to give him a goodbye punch in the face and a stern "Don't come back!" talking to.

Which is a wee bit shit seeing as if it wasn't for him Polanski would still be dealing drugs to 'ver kids' and Smithy would never have smashed the dealers ring (ooeerr) but that's the police for you.

Photoshop.

The great-granddad of every John Woo/Chow Yun Fat movie ever made (especially The Killer), Yukio (Zero Woman Red Handcuffs, Yakuza Deka and he Soul of Bruce Lee - AKA Soul of Chiba - amongst others) Noda's Manga adaptation of Takao Saito's manga classic Golgo 13:  is a low budget, batshittly baffling no-brainer that happily coasts by on the charisma of it's lead actor and an outrageous sense of fun.

The second attempt to bring the classic comic book character to the screen (after the little seen - outside Japan that is - 1973 Ken Takakura starrer) forgoes the gritty Yakuza-style realism of the first movie, replacing it (alongside half-decent direction and plot) instead with lots of long, lingering shots of action legend Chiba frowning whilst polishing a big gun.

Which frankly is enough for me to elevate this film to classic status.

"You ain't seen me right?" - Beyond our Ken.

Luckily for everyone else there are a couple of other good performances on show too, including a top turn from Callan Leung who'd already carved out a career playing determined police types and the fantastic Etsuko Shihomi as undercover cop Lam.

A member of Chiba's famous Japan Action Club (a training school set up by the actor for aspiring martial arts film actors and stunt performers), Shihomi was one of Chiba's most successful students, going on to appear in four Sister Streetfighter movies as well as the adventure classic Shogun's Ninja again alongside Chiba as well as future Hollywood star Hiroyuki Sanada.

With so much talent on show it's a pity then that a better director couldn't be found.

I mean Noda is workman-like and Chiba obviously enjoyed working with him (they did make Soul Of Chiba and Yakuza Deka together too) but a film of this size and scale needs a more bombastic eye and sense of style as without the natural charisma and genuine big screen appeal of its star Golgo 13 would be just another run of the mill country-hopping crime caper.

It's still a top piece of entertainment tho'.

*On illustrations for a great new book on the fantastic femmes of film 'Velvet Glove, Iron Fist - available July.....buy it please as I need new shoes.

**I may have made some of these names up after realising I'd forgotten to make a note of the characters. Sorry.

gobble my neighbours.

31 days of horror day 10.....

Well that was short and to the point.

A wee bit like.....

Turkey Shoot (AKA Blood Camp Thatcher, Escape 2000. 1982).
Dir: Brian Trenchard-Smith.
Cast: Steve Railsback, Olivia Hussey, Michael Craig, Lynda Stoner, Gus Mercurio, Michael Craig, Roger Ward, Carmen Duncan, John Ley, Michael Petrovitch, Carmen Duncan, Bill Young, Dave Hill and Noel Ferrier.

'Disobedience is treason, treason is a crime, crime will be punished!'

Welcome to the whacked out, black clad and oh so slightly fascistic future world of 1995.

If it weren't the past obviously.

Just try not to think about it too much.

As I was saying welcome to a fascistic world where even having a quick peek at a police officer's squinty teeth can lead to a kicking and a stay in one of the state's creepy correction centres and a world where mild mannered antique toting tottie Chris Walters (the virgin Mary herself, Hussey) has found herself arrested for the heinous crime of having a criminal run into her shop to avoid a beating of a tomb-toothed copper.

Drugged, mugged and thrown into the back of a converted ice-cream van alongside the notorious pirate deejay 'pumping' Paul Anders (the legendary Railsback) and balloon breasted rent-a-whore Rita Daniels (Prisoner Cell Block H's Stoner), Chris soon finds herself transported to the infamous Camp Thatcher, a former Butlins holiday camp cum detention den specially built to re-educate societies deviant population.

Who seem to consist mainly of gingers by the look of those imprisoned there.

Ladies and gentlemen! Live tonite at Saltcoats Butlins....it's Bardot.

In charge of this hellish camp of cruelty is the notorious silver fox Charles Thatcher (teevee stalwart, Robert Kilroy-Silk impersonator and Doctor Who's 'Tonker' Travers himself Craig) aided and abetted by the arse obsessed man-vole Red (Cap' Daulton from Flipper himself; the late, great Mercurio) and the bald-pated, psychotic man mountain (with a nice line of Freddie Mercury moustaches) Chief Guard John Ritter (Australian acting royalty Ward).

Thatcher, it seems relies on all this heavy handed help in order to maintain his unbroken eight year run as the undisputed winner of the crazy camp commandant bastard competition (sponsored by Asda no less) and to this aim has devised a series of vaguely amusing 'Total Wipeout' style games that run alongside the daily beatings, rapes and shootings to keep the inmates entertained.

What a lovely chap.

"Can we fuck him up the arse with a tractor?" Asked Bob. "Yes we can!"

After thrilling his new captives with a special game of football featuring a small boy, two plastic bottles of petrol and a match and following Chris almost getting gang raped in the shower block, Thatcher invites our hero, the constantly crying Chris, slutty Rita, the camps bespectacled rent-a-nutter Dodge (Ley from BMX Bandits) and a politically motivated tall man named Griff up to his office for a friendly chat.

It appears that Thatcher has a proposal for the captive criminals (and surprisingly it doesn't involve screwing over the miners for once) and over cocktails and sausage rolls, excitedly explains it to all and sundry.

Turns out that he's really keen on organizing a special event for the visiting roly poly Secretary for Lard, Mallory Towers (the gravity defying Ferrier) and his recently arrived pals; the bearded mentalist Tito Jackson (Mike Raven wannabe Petrovitch) and the pigeon chested yet loveably loopy lesbian Jennifer (Duncan, best known for A Country Practice), so decides to up his ante (oooh missis), planning as he is a little game of cat and mouse for their entertainment.

By this I actually mean that he's about to blatantly crib from the Richard Connell short story "The Most Dangerous Game" obviously.

First filmed as The Hounds of Zaroff starring the milky thighed and fantastically breasted Fay Wray alongside a gin soaked Joel McCrea back in 1932, the novels well thumbed plot regarding a rich hunter chasing hunks and totty for cash has been remade almost every other year since under the guise of everything from Game of Death to The Running Man via The Beast Must Die.

Saying that tho' it is a very good plot.

Faye Wray: You would...and so would your granddad.

Anyway, back to this plot (which is still quite entertaining) and with our 'turkeys' given a three hour head start (and with a get out of jail free card if they survive till sundown), it's time to see what specialist death dealing devices our hunters have brought along to make things more interesting.

Whilst Mallory has a big, fuck off dart gun capable of stunning his victims into submission so that he can have 'the sex' with them (he'll be hunting Chris then) and Jennifer has a horse, a multi-function crossbow and a massive big black leather strap-on (hopefully she'll be wanting Anders if we're lucky....nope it's Rita. Damn), it's Tito that wins tonight's prize for greatest (and most amusing) hunting human kit pulling up as he does in a bright orange Bob the Builder tractor.

And (for no apparent reason) with a top hatted werewolf played by Slade's Dave Hill (possibly) and named Alf in tow.

When asked where he acquired such a companion Tito nonchalantly replies "The circus" and drives away.

No, really.

"Aright me chap where's me Cuppa Soup?"

It's bullets vs. brains in a jungle-based, testosterone fueled fight for survival and there can be only one winner.

Well, possibly two.

Or perhaps Anders might be lucky and free all the prisoners at some point so there could even be loads of winners in a kind of lottery survival syndicate.

 I didn't really think that last bit thru' did I?

In a blatant attempt to cash in on the early eighties violent dystopia genre,  Trenchard-Smith (director of the Nicole Kidman classic BMX Bandits and the fantastic Leprechaun 4: In Space) alongside writers Jon George and  Neill D. Hicks originally planned to mix the streetwise sensibilities of Mad Max with the literary goodness of 1984 and the human drama of Papillon.

Unfortunately for them (but not us) a major investor pulled out at the last minute (taking $700,000 of the film's $3,200,000 budget with them) causing half the script to be binned.

But only the boring character stuff and a helicopter chase so that's OK.

Adding tension to an already fraught shoot was perennial bridesmaid Railsback's intensely serious (and intensely annoying to the rest of the cast) acting style, a supporting cast made up entirely of the cream of Australian teevee's light entertainment and soap division and a female lead that refused to gut a fish and, after agreeing to a nude scene, would eventually only show her (albeit ample) arse on camera.

It's only after the fact that you begin to realize how lucky they were that the finished film turned out as downright enjoyable  - and watchable - as it is.

Arrow in mah mooth!

If anything Turkey Shoot is all the better for it's numerous back stage struggles, mutating as it does from a fairly serious social commentary style movie into an over the top camp as pants gore fest via an emotionally vacuous romance that ends up making the whole endeavor as wildly schizophrenic as Railsback's performance is comfortingly staid.

Posh and Becks: the pikey years.

Possibly the greatest thing to ever come out of Australia (definitely the greatest movie anyway), Turkey Shoot should be legally enforced viewing for anyone who's ever expressed an interest in film or film-making and refusal should be punishable by death.

Or at least a quick goosing from Alf the werewolf.

As our criminalist colony cousins would say "Fair dinkum mate!"

slayer-rific.

With everyone getting all hyped for the series finale of Game of Thrones I thought I'd revisit the pinnacle of sword and sorcery film making plus I thought it was about time I introduced the kids to it.

Which probably means I'll get a call from social work tomorrow.

Oh well.

Hawk The Slayer (1980).
Dir: Terry Marcel.
Cast: John Terry, Jack Palance, Bernard Bresslaw, Morgan Sheppard, Annette Crosbie, Shane Bryant, Ray Charleson, Peter O'Farrell, Patricia Quinn and Catriona MacColl.

I am no messenger. But I will give you a message. The message of DEATH!

It is a time of darkness (around 3:30 in the afternoon by the look of the sky) when evil walks the land.

Witches wander the woods whilst common folk sit on tree stumps wearing tights and tidy beards and every bad man possesses a shiny helmet.

One such chrome hatted horror is the wicked Steve Voltan (Jack Palance in a performance so over the top he's almost in orbit) who, after a huge argument with his dad (probably over not paying his board or being out too late), kills the old fella before doing a runner.

It's like the Jeremy Kyle show but with more tooled leather.

Enter from stage left the luxurious locked nice son Hawk (John - not the footballer - Terry) who's just turned up to see if his dad needs any shopping done.

Cradling his dying father in his arms (but luckily not in his mooth) our hero listens intently (tho' from Terry's acting he could have constipation) as the old man mutters on about the kids of today having no respect and the price of bread before finally bestowing the mysterious 'Mind Sword' on his son.

A magical weapon with bizarre powers represented by a kids torch stuck to the hilt.

As dad breathes his last Hawk turns to camera and vows to avenge his death.

But not before he gets his hair blow dried and his eyebrows done obviously.

"Don't touch the hair."

Meanwhile Voltan's evil ways have eclipsed the entire kingdom; his followers appear to have stolen all the buildings and replaced them with paintings, night time has been outlawed and replaced with a nicotine filter and the whole country has been reduced to the wooded bit next to the play park behind the directors house, just ever so slightly redressed between scenes in an attempt to confuse the locals.

Luckily there's at least one real building left in the land, a convent run by Victor Meldrew's missis and a last shining beacon of hope in an otherwise dark world.

And currently limping bravely towards this beacon  is the bearded and bashed Ranulf (genre stalwart Sheppard), sole survivor of one of Voltan's massacres.

Arriving at the front door he's quickly ushered into the dining hall and inbetween mouthfuls of egg and cress sandwiches and crisps helpfully informs the nuns  - and by default the viewers - of just how evil Voltan is.

It appears that the evil one attacked Ranulf's village without reason or warning, hacking the women and children to pieces and digging up the adventure playground before twisting the swings around so high that no-one could use them and sitting on the slide.

I shudder as to what he did to the men folk tho' as their fate is never mentioned.

Maybe he sent them to work in his secret licorice mines?

Hel-met.

Luckily for Ranulf he's a bloody good runner  - who seems not too bothered to lose his family, perhaps they weren't speaking?-  and managed to escape before things got too bloody.

Tho' he does appear to have left most of his hand behind and what's left of it is beyond saving,  so the nuns wrap a scarf around it and send him to bed.

On the other - only?- hand his beard and crooked teeth are perfectly fine so it's not all bad.

It's not all saucy young nuns and snacks tho' as before long Voltan appears at the convent intent on bad deeds, first he roughly takes Annette Crosbie to his lair (dirty boy), before demanding 'all the gold!' as a ransom.
 
Understandably pissed off at all these naughty shenanigans Ranulf, blaming Voltan for cutting short his promising career as a professional knitter decides to challenge him to a duel but unfortunately falls for the villains taunts of "I can fight you with one arm behind my back" (probably) which results in our bearded pal getting a damn good kicking.

"You should really see a doctor about that son."

Left battered, bruised and surrounded by crying nuns, Ranulf quickly rides off - he's getting good at this legging it lark - to the Abbey for a meeting with the High Abbot (unfortunately not Russ), who after much chin stroking sends Ranulf off to search for one who can help defeat Voltan.

A man named Hawk.....The Slayer.

Obviously everyone else was busy.


Ranulf quickly leaves to begin his quest to find Hawk but is almost immediately  accosted by some gypsies and after refusing to buy some pegs is locked up in a cage.

Come on, how unlucky is this guy?

Help is at hand tho' when Hawk just happens to come riding past - with his sexy blind sorceress companion (the raunchy redhead that fuelled so many teen fantasies thanks to Rocky Horror, Patricia Quinn) that he rescued from being burnt as a witch a few scenes earlier - and kills the dirty criminals using his 'Mind Sword'.

Which it turns out is exactly like a normal sword apart from the fact that it can float into its owners hand as if carried - just out of shot - by a member of the crew.

Spock: The Pikey years.

After listening to Ranulf's tale of woe, Hawk decides to help rescue Ms. Crosbie  and begins to round up his posse from 'the mystic hood' as they probably said in the olden days to kick Voltan's arse.

Contrary to what you might be thinking this isn't as heroic and selfless as it sounds seeing as he was on his way to kill Voltan anyway, it just means that now he'll be getting some readies for doing it so it's not long (well the film has a fairly short running time) before our hero has got his merry band (The Slayerettes?)  together.

"'Ere Sid! This is a real carry on!"

This (slightly) super six consists of Hawk himself, Ranulf, the aforementioned sexy sorceress, a seriously short mallet wielding 'giant' named Gort (Carry On star Bresslaw), an elf dressed in a knitted tracksuit Cameron Crow (Charleson, famous for playing the Bishop in London's first multi-racial production of Jean Genet's 'The Balcony' fact fans) and Alec Baldin (professional short-arse O'Farrell) an overly tall dwarf with a bullwhip, pointy shoes and a fish fetish.

Voltan must be shitting himself.

"Trout in mah mooth!"

Heading back to the convent, our heroes soon get to work protecting the nuns, eating sandwiches and trying to work out how to get enough gold to lure Voltan into a trap.

You see, they've figure out that it'd be impossible to literally get 'all the gold' seeing as no-one is quite sure where it's all kept but reckon that some - mixed inn with some chocolate coins and old Ferrero Rocher packets would probably be better than none.

I mean Voltan only has one good eye so it's not like he'll be looking too closely.


After much deliberation and deciding that whoring out the nuns for pennies would be a bad idea, our heroes decide the easiest way to get the gold is to head out into the woods and relieve Tony Trafficker, the local news agent cum slave trader of his stash.

Oh yeah and free his slaves too obviously.

Surprisingly this all goes without a hitch and our merry band are soon back at the convent celebrating with crisps and lashings of ginger beer.

There's always one miserable git who manages to sour any celebration tho' and in this case it's Hawk himself.

Seems he's beginning to have second thoughts about trusting Voltan to keep his side of the bargain.

Seeing as he's already killed their dad and - in a soft focus flashback sequence - Hawk's wife Eliane (the legend that is Catriona MacColl) you can kinds see where he's coming from.


Pissed up on Buckfast and spoiling for a fight our heroes grab their weapons and head out to Voltan's castle in order to rescue Annette (and no doubt keep the gold for themselves) and hopefully persuade Voltan to change his ways and therefore avoid any unnecessary bloodshed.

Or any prohibitively expensive action sequences obviously.

It'll come as no surprise when I say that this plan fails abysmally and the dirty half dozen end up retreating back to the abbey with bruised ego's and slightly ruddy arses.

From having them kicked that is.

Minds like sewers you lot.

It's not all bad tho' as during the botched rescue, Hawk did manage to run his nephew Drogo thru' with a sword.

Which is nice.

"Buns you say?!?"

Obviously this doesn't go down too well with  Voltan, who on hearing the news of the death of his son goes completely mental and after throwing a dinner service at his trusty servant decides to attack the abbey, kill everybody in it and just take 'all the gold' for himself.

Which if you think about it is much more in keeping with his evil image.

With the help of a well-meaning (yet ultimately misguided) nun he breaks into the abbey whilst everyone is sleeping/hungover and captures our motley crew, tying them up in the basement ready for a wee bit of torture porn.

And he's going to start by introducing his brother Hawk to a red hot poker.

All looks lost but can the sorceress use her magical powers plus her seemingly unending supply of glowing ping-pong balls and silly string to rescue our heroes from evil?

Five go mad on meth.

Before I go any further can I just say I fucking love this movie and nothing - or no-one - will ever change my mind.

It's sad but true that Terry (co-writer and producer of Norman J. Warren's Prey- see? this blog's not just chucked together randomly) Marcel's vastly underrated British entry into the early 80's sword and sorcery genre is often ridiculed for it's poor effects, lack of budget, pseudo-disco score and the varying quality of the performances but if you can look past that lot you'll find a gem as bright as the one in the 'Mind Sword' just under the surface.

Well maybe not that bright otherwise you'd probably go blind but you get the point.

OK I'll admit that the cast are, on the whole as stilted and wooden as the trees surrounding them, but this almost high arch delivery evokes a less sophisticated age.

Take John Terry's performance as Hawk, who's to say that medieval noblemen didn't speak in broad Yankee accents and I've never read anything in history books to say that they had to move their upper bodies whilst talking.

Who knows, it might be that seeing as the 80's was the height of the toy tie-in, Terry might just be the greatest actor of them all, choosing to play Hawk as a living, breathing full size Palitoy action figure.

Now how's that for post modernism?

Luckily the late, great Jack Palance appears to be compensating for everyone else's lack of energy, spitting and snarling every single syllable like some huge brutish bull terrier with it's balls being slowly squeezed by a fresh smelling Emma Thompson whilst Air's Sexy Boy plays in the background and all the time whilst wearing a swing bin on his head.

C'mon, what's not to love?

"Touch my ring!"

Of the other cast members Ray Charleson's portrayal of Crow the Elf, whilst seemingly spookily mysterious to me as a child now just comes across like a whispering pikey peadophile bedecked in his mums best PJ's, which I admit says more about me than him whilst Bernard Bresslaw is basically having a dry run for the same character in Krull a few years later.

Only in that they could afford to give him some built-up shoes and a mask.

Tho' in all honesty it doesn't make it any less a bind to sit thru', at least with Hawk the cast look like they're at least enjoying themselves, unlike Krull where half the budget seems to have gone on inserting poles up the casts arses.

Talking of arses, Patricia Quinn is as sexy/scary (tick as applicable) as she was in The Rocky Horror Picture Show and The Hammer House of Horror episode Witching Time (the first full frontal nudity I ever saw) even tho' she's forced to wear a headband with an eye chalked on it and an old sleeping bag but let's be honest here, can you imagine any other actress managing to pull that off and still look sultry?

Thought not.

Patricia Quinn: You would (and your dad probably did. Twice).

Of the rest of the cast, the fantastic Morgan Sheppard is all hangdog looks, world weary sighs and muscular thighs (well maybe not the last bit) whilst O'Farrell gives it his all, which seeing as he's stuck wearing a pair of child's black ballet tights, winkle-pickers and a hoodie with a plastic mackerel in the pocket is pretty damn good if I'm honest.

Talking of plastic joke shop toys, any film that makes no apologies for using silly string, glowing ping-pong balls, pound shop spiders and hula hoops stolen from the set of Superman II as a serious replacement for a lack of effects budget deserves all the praise you can muster.

I mean you have to at least admire the crews balls for even thinking about attempting a movie of this scale on a budget that wouldn't even begin to cover the cost of Lena Headey's tattoo camouflaging cream on Game of Thrones.

Headey: No reason.

And what of the high energy synth score by ex Six-Five Special and Oh Boy musical director Harry Robertson I hear you ask?

Well it's nothing short of genius, giving Claudio Simonetti a run for his money and perfectly evocative of a spooky age of sorcery, swords and magic.

Albiet one where holiday resort discos are all the rage obviously.

Just give it a listen now and see if you're not transported back to a time of mucky maidens and medieval mayhem.

Or at the very least overtaken by the urge to give your evil sibling a damn good hiding.

Had there been any justice in the world someone would have penned lyrics to this and given us another Eurovision hit thereby ushering in an age of Hawk-based fashions and films.

Instead we got Prima Donna: Love Enough For Two and the cementing of Thatcherism.

Bastards.


But then again, I may be just a sad, sad fan boy who needs to get out more.

bin raidin'.

The laydees are away to see Wonder Woman leaving the Cassman and myself free to have an enjoyable boys afternoon watching...

The Raiders Of Atlantis (AKA Atlantis Interceptors, Atlantis Inferno, I predatori di Atlantide. 1983)
Dir: Ruggero Deodato.
Cast: Christopher Connelly, Gioia Scola, Tony King, George Hilton, Ivan Rassimov, Mike Miller, Bruce Baron, Michele Soavi, Giancarlo Prati, Maurizio Fardo, Mike Monty, John Vasallo, Lewis A. Cianelli, James Demby and Audrey Perkins.

"This don't look like no advanced civilization
to me - just a bunch of trees!"

Rough and tumble, pastel clad heroes for hire Mike Smith (mottle skinned Connelly from Manhattan Baby) and Geoff 'Mohammed' Washington (King AKA Malik Farrakhan from Cannibal Apocalypse and BJ and the Bear), make ends meet by chloroforming then kidnapping old men on the orders of the US government for $50,000 a shot.

Which is nice work if you can get it.

Having delivered an old fella to a mysterious colonel whilst wisecracking about Vietnam and Washington's conversion to Islam, the pair decide to set sail to the Caribbean for a well deserved holiday.

By some strange coincidence, a secret Navy project is getting under way in the same bit of ocean and the tiny faced (and frighteningly insectoid) science type, Dr. Cathy Rollins (Desirable Teacher's Scola) has been (forcibly) drafted in to help decipher an ancient, skull embossed plaque discovered on the ocean floor.

The projects head, the bespectacled and knee length shorted Professor Peter Saunders (Hilton from such classics The Case of the Bloody Iris and Holy God, Here Comes the Passatore!) explains that they came across it (not literally) whilst trying to raise a Russian sub that had sunk a few months earlier.

Being an expert on pre-Columbian dialects of almost Daddy Pig proportions, Rollins has absolutely no trouble in translating the strange markings on the plaque and announces that it tells the whereabouts of the fabled lost city of Atlantis.

"Bbbbbbzzzzzzzzzz!"

Meanwhile in a mysterious Caribbean isle hotel room, a spooky man in his granddad's suit slowly opens a wall safe and removes a joke shop plastic skull mask from it, gazing lovingly at it before popping it onto his tiny head.

I'm just relieved that he didn't force it up his arse.

Talking of tiny heads - and anal insertions, it's action stations all the way back on the government submarine stealing base as Rollin's takes a break from transcribing ancient inscriptions (and a sell out spoken word tour) to peer at a grainy black and white monitor showing superimposed images of a child's bath toy slowly rising to the surface of a fishtank.

Suddenly the whole place goes haywire as indoor firework style sparks shower the set and the light fuses blow.

As the crew run around like small girls being chased by a wasp it's left to the director of Delamore Dellamorte to lead everyone to the lifeboats.

But what's happening back on that island with the skull-faced man I hear you cry?

Well so far nothing seeing as we've cut to a garishly clad couple, Arthur and Maude who, upon leaving their house are shocked and frightened by the amount of grainy stock footage of thunderstorms in the distance.

Maude is understandably upset and wants to go back into the house but as she turns to enter the porch plastic skull face turns up (surrounded by a motley assortment of leather clad and mohawk headed pikeys) and shoots her in the throat before parking his bike up Arthur's arse .

Finally some bum-based action.

The Theresa May sex mask: Available now!

Mike and Washington, alongside their oiled Filipino cabin boy Manuel (Vasallo in his only credited screen appearance - shame) are having problems of their own trying to guide the boat thru' giant waves whilst dodging the huge domed city that's appeared out of the ocean in front of them.

The trio are surprisingly nonchalant about the whole thing which is quite refreshing for this type of movie, well at least they are until the outboard motor explodes and the last crate of beer falls overboard.

Luckily the films fades to black before it can get too exciting (or expensive) and next thing we know it's the following morning.

Phew.

The sea is calm and Washington and Manuel seem to have forgotten about their earlier ordeal and are busying themselves rescuing the survivors (including Italian cinema's sexiest man, Sir Ivan of Rassimov in the pivotal role of daredevil pilot Bill Cook) from the base whilst Mike makes googly eyes at Cathy.

Who it appears seems young enough to be his daughter but let's not dwell on that.

Mercifully for the viewer this uncomfortable display of old man lust is cut short when Manuel suddenly becomes a mentalist and grabs Cathy by her scrawny throat, threatening to kill anyone who gets in his way.

It appears that Manuel has received a psychic message telling him that 'Cathy is needed'.

It mustn't be that important tho' seeing as he's happy enough to jump overboard without her.

"To me!" "To you!"

With everyone just standing about staring at each other trying to figure what just happened, nobody notices that the boat has run aground on a deserted beach until Cathy decides to go skinny dippy, jumps overboard and grazes her knee on a discarded Irn Bru bottle.

Mike being the oldest (by about seventy years) takes charge and decides that they should head inland and try to find a phone.

Or at least find the guy who runs the donkey rides across the sand.

Approaching the nearest town our intrepid (or is that tepid?) band are shocked to find the whole place in ruins with buildings ablaze, cars overturned and corpses hanging from every telegraph pole.

Mike mistakenly thinks that they've arrived in Manchester and whilst desperately trying to score some skag of an illiterate inbred on a street corner bumps into his old pal Manuel, still nutty as squirrel shit and here to warn them to get Cathy back to the boat before 'they' arrive to take her.

Driving Ms. Daisy: the S & M years.

But it's a warning too late as the infamous 'they' (plastic skull face and his merry band of homo-erotic bikers) arrive and start shooting at things whilst showing their oiled nipples to all and sundry forcing Mike and co. to take shelter in a church.

All that is except the resident ginger man who runs towards the leather clad gang shouting “They’re human! They’ll listen to reason!” before being shot in the face and nailed to a tree.

Which is fair enough I reckon.

Waiting till nightfall and the badboy bikers going home to bed, Mike and Bill lead the survivors to the (relative) safety of a nearby warehouse packed with cases of rifles, unlimited ammunition and a big box of napalm.

Which is pretty damn lucky if you ask me.

On a less interesting note the warehouse is also hiding place to a balding camp man in a tuxedo (Fardo from The Bronx Warriors 2 and Demons 6), his fairly unattractive daughter and his very unattractive wife.

Don't worry tho', they'll be dead soon.

It's not long before the barking bikers return to torment and taunt Mike and his pals whilst handily standing still on top of walls within easy shooting distance.

“We have returned!” shouts plastic before sending his men into the warehouse to snatch Cathy, leaving Mike no alternative but to give chase.

What a guy.

Running around the backlot, his turkey neck glistening with sweat Mike chances upon a hefty German man (Mike Miller, not this one I assume) in a fetching headband who goes by the name of Klaus.

Being a typical German he's been wandering around for days spoiling for the chance to fight someone.

Or at the very least find somewhere to place his towel.

Not too surprisingly he jumps at the chance to join Mike's quest.

Returning to the warehouse and reading thru' Cathy's notebook (in the hope of finding some nude pictures of her obviously) Mike discovers that Atlantis sank as a consequence of a big civil war culminating in the use of a nuclear bomb, ergo the radiation leaking from the downed Soviet sub is what must have caused the island to rise again.

Obvious really.

There's a downside to all this domed city and psychic nonsense tho' as it seems that the radiation has caused all the surviving Atlanteans to become forgetful which is why they need Cathy as it seems only she knows how to raise  Atlantis for good.

And yes, I know it's all bollocks, I've just had to type it.

Cathy:
Hidden knowledge, shite sofa.

But Mike, being brave and desperate for a shag has a rescue plan which involves commandeering a bus to travel to the local airport and steal a helicopter to fly to Atlantis, kill everyone there and leave with Cathy over his shoulder.

Yup, works for me.

After an exciting bus journey and a few more killings they do indeed steal a helicopter and fly toward the bubblicious Atlantis where, upon landing they kill a few more leather-clad Atlantean types whilst Professor Saunders (yes, he's still alive and wearing shorts) decides that neutralising the radiation from the submarine may indeed cause Atlantis to sink again, saving everyone from being over-run by plastic skull wearing mentalists on motorbikes.

Or something.

A transparent breast yesterday.

Whilst all this killing and science is going on Cathy has had time to dress up in a seventies disco-whore outfit and have a conversation with some old men projected onto a wall.

Her lack of any visible acting ability makes me think that she's either drunk or under hypnosis seeing as she's not only readily agreed to help the Atlantean's take over the world but seems to believe all the frankly techno-bollocks chat that's being banded about.

Saying that tho' her legs to look particularly nice in those glittery tights so it's not all bad.

But time (and the viewers patience) is running out.

"Shite in mah Atlantean mooth!"

Will Mike be able to rescue Cathy in time to take her out for the promised spinach supper?

Will the Professor be able to turn off the nuclear radiation?

Or will the plastic skull man take over the world?

Go on, guess.

What film are we talking about?

The controversy courting king of the cannibals Ruggero Deodato's little seen action epic Raiders of Atlantis is a majestically mental mix of gruesome gore, mystical mumbo jumbo and post-apocalyptic thrills, riffing Indiana jones and the Hong Kong classic Fantasy Mission Force along the way before mixing the entire thing to a tepid disco beat courtesy of the fantastic Guido De Angelis and Maurizio De Angelis under the alias Oliver Onions.

I'll give you a second to take all that in and then ask....

What's not to like?

Gioia Scola: Asked your dad.

For better or worse, Deodato will probably only be remembered (by all but the most devoted film enthusiasts) for his infamous mockumentary shocker Cannibal Holocaust (and possibly House on the Edge of the Park but for all the wrong reasons) which is a shame really, as his most enjoyable (and accessible) works are the ones that no-one seems to have seen.

And if they have they rarely seem to talk about them.

From the sexy swashbuckling Lucretia love starring comic book adaptation Zenabel to the sublime crime thriller Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man (AKA The Terminators) via the lo-fi Airport: 79 rip off Concorde Affaire '79 (AKA Concorde Inferno '79), Deodato is a director whose genuine love of cinema (and more importantly an appreciation of the sheer enjoyment that films can give) shines thru' even the most threadbare and nonsensical plots.

And much like the great man's drug busting actioner Cut And Run, The Raiders Of Atlantis might be total bollocks but you can't deny that it's utterly enjoyable.

And you can't say fairer than that can you?