double trouble.

Shite movie, vaguely amusing back story.

Prepare yourself dear reader for the truth behind... 

Dracula vs. Frankenstein (1971).
Dir: Al Adamson.
Cast: Anthony Eisley, Regina Carrol, Russ Tamblyn, Jim Davis, Angelo Rossitto, Greydon Clark, Anne Morrell, Forrest J Ackerman, John Bloom, Lon Chaney, Jnr, J. Carrol Naish and Zandor Vorkov.

“She used to have fantasies about being a freak…
Two heads, an eye missing, elongated spine.
Anything that was grotesque turned her on.”

Somewhere in California - the Oakmoor Cemetery to be precise - world famous lord of the undead Count Dracula (disguised by the look of things as an almost AIDS thin pedo with pubes for hair and played to almost cardboard perfection by 'Zandor Vorkov' AKA Roger Engel) is busy unearthing the remains of Doctor Frankenstein's monster.

What? You mean to tell me you skipped the part of the book where the creatures remains are secreted to the US to be experimented on?

Surprised to see a black satin clad sex offender digging around in the middle of the night the cemeteries lone security guard (the directors dad) comes to investigate, getting his neck nibbled for his trouble.

Pay attention at this part, as it's the only vaguely vampiric thing Dracula will partake in during the whole movie.

Meanwhile under Brighton pier a fairly foxy girl is nervously feeling her way thru' a fog of what can only be cigarette smoke before being suddenly - and unconvincingly -  attacked by an axe-wielding, alcoholic Lon Chaney, Jr. (who distressingly looks close to death).

The axe cuts short her scream.

And cuts off her head.

We cut too but fear not, for it's only a cinematic phrase meaning the action (well, I say action) is moving to somewhere else.

And that somewhere else is glorious Las Vegas, where glamorous grannie Judith Fontain (director Adamson's wife, the late Carrol, star of Satan's Sadists and official pin-up girl of raunchy rockers The Sleepfarmers) is performing her groovy nite-club act to a packed audience via the wonders of stock footage (well, takes up a couple of minutes running time) before retiring to her dressing room to let the air out of her breasts and check her fan mail.

Alongside the final demands, STD test results and court summonses is a letter from one Sergeant Martin Martin (Dallas star Davis) of the Californian Police Missings Persons Bureau (yup, that's the name on the envelope), informing Judith that her wee sister Jodie has gone missing.

Dracula, up the casino, 1973.....Yesch!

Judith, being a concerned sister and desperate to get the plot moving rushes to California (I'm assuming it's just down the road) in order to help with the police investigation much to the chagrin of the permanently scowling Sgt. Martin.

"Hey lady, the world is a dark place," Martin informs her as he switches off his desk lamp in order to batter the point home "If you have any wool I suggest you get knitting!" he suggests usefully before heading off to beat up some students.

Left to her own devices, our heroine wanders innocently into the dangerous hippie neighbourhood where her sister was last seen.

Entering the famous Hippie Hilton (500 McLaughlin Dr. Santa Cruz, CA 95064-1084, families welcome) Judith tries to ingratiate herself into the whole hippie thing by asking for a coffee whilst showing pictures of her sis to all and sundry but this only succeeds in getting her mistaken for a cop, leaving the owner no alternative but to spike her drink with LSD.

Smart.

Cue much hair tugging, indiscriminate crash zooms and Judith writhing on a platform whilst wearing a white fishnet body stocking to a frantic bongo beat.

Far out.

Luckily she's rescued by nice guy hipster Clive Strange (hard working Clark, best known - to me anyway - for Without Warning) and his mousy girlfriend Samantha (Morrell, you may remember her as the floating harem girl in John Goldfarb, Please Come Home! or maybe not).

Lon Fancies a wee mooth shite-in....are you man enough for the challenge?

Meanwhile at the local chamber of horrors conveniently located on the end of the pier next to the bingo hall, the wheelchair-bound scientist and former member of NWA Dr. Drea (Naish, desperate to pay his medical bills) is busy attempting to perfect a special formula that will enable mankind to live forever and have perfectly coiffured  hair even after a heavy night out.

Unfortunately he can only make this formula by beheading people then bringing them back to life before finally lobotomizing them.

But if it means I only ever have to style my quiff once a month then I'm game.

Aided by urine stained imbecile Groton (that'll be Lon then, poor sod) and professional little person Grazbo (Rossitto famous for everything from Freaks to Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome via Galaxina), who've been promised physical and mental superiority once the formula is perfected, this dynamic duo find suitable candidates for experimentation via Grazbo's job at the box office, leaving Groton to chop them up.

"Laugh now!"

After one particularly heavy night of lobotomy-based fun, Dr. Drea is surprised when a strange man steps out of the shadows and demands to talk to him.

Examining the strangers ring (snigger) Drea identifies the visitor as Count Dracula, and Dracula not to be outdone, identifies Drea as the last of the Frankenstein family.

With Drea realizing that his Colonel Sanders disguise is fooling no-one and Drac just relieved that he's finally met someone who doesn't piss themselves laughing whilst looking at him they pair settle down for an excruciatingly bad chat that although meant to fill in an important bit of back story just careers off on bizarre tangents.

None of this is helped by the fact that Dracula appears to have been dubbed by someone standing in a well.

"Ahm sorry hen....ave pished mahsel again!"

Anyway, from what I can gather (after rewatching the movie a few times) is that  Drea was adopted (which is why he's not known as Frankenstein and more importantly why he's considerably less hip than other Def Jam stalwarts) and that his work in monster construction was discredited by three evil doctors, one of which caused the accident that crippled him.

This man whom we shall call simply Dr. Bill Beaumont (because that's his name) added insult to injury by stealing the Frankenstein monster and burying it in the graveyard from the films opening.

Luckily for all concerned the infamous Zornov Comet is rapidly approaching the Earth, heralding the beginning of the monster's second life cycle.

Look I'm just typing what was said.

Meanwhile junked up Judith suddenly wakes up in the bed of aged hippie Mike Howard (Eisely from Knots Landing), a local middle-aged guy who looks after the disenfranchised yoof in the area whilst dressed like a teenage rent boy.

Nope, nothing sinister about that at all.

Taking a shine to Judith (he's obviously bored with failing to score at the school gates so he's decided on someone nearer his own - old - age) the pair begin to discuss Jodie's disappearance, eventually coming to the conclusion that, being disabled Dr. Drea is behind it.

Cue hours of wandering around aimlessly back and forth to the house of horrors exhibit intercut with dozens of unnecessary appearances  by a chubby, pube bearded Russ Tamblyn playing an evil rapist biker named Rico.

Truly the man has no shame.

Or a fucking huge rehab bill.

Heath Ledger farted....and it was an eggy one.

Skipping forward a few chapters (look I'm only human) and finally Judith and Mike (after admitting their love for each other and having a wee kiss and cuddle) have decided to take one last look at Drea's horror show.

Only to make it more interesting they've turned up in the middle of the night.

Wandering around in the 'dark', they pair of wannabe investigators completely fail to see or hear Rico and his pals trying to rape Samantha and also miss Groton's subsequent slaughter of the bad boy bikers but, and give credit where it's due, Mike does manage to hear Groton quietly pull a chain that opens a trapdoor to Drea's lab.

Trying to find the source of the noise, the pair also manage to miss the three hacked to pieces bodies at their feet but do spot a teeny tiny locket belonging to Samantha buried in the sand.

I'll be honest, even I've stopped caring at this point.

"Fiona! Where's mah lunch?"

Drea, lying in wait behind a shady model of a giant monkey catches the pair as they sneak around the exhibits and manages to lure our loved up losers into the dank, dark basement below his lair.

If you could take a minute now to consider the layout of Drea's Chamber of Horrors.

If you've been paying attention you'll remember that it's built on a pier over the beach to give Groton easy access to the sands to kill women.

So how (and more importantly where) does the stone clad gothic basement fit in?

I have to be honest and say that at the time I totally accepted this without question showing the true extent of the films almost supernatural mind numbing powers.


It was only the following day that I realized that the whole thing was complete and utter shame trousered shite from start to finish.

Anyway, Drea explains the plot, Judith finds her naked sister in a big jam jar and Mike, being an all American hero type picks a fight with the dwarf, causing Groton's pet cat to fall down the trapdoor.

I kid you not, cinema hardly ever gets as exciting as this baby.

Tosser.

Much infant school slapping and grimacing ensues culminating with wee Grazbo falling onto an axe giving Judith time to escape to the roof.

Of a factory.

Not a pier.

Mike however is trapped behind some boxes as an ever more excited Drea take potshots at his arse with an air pistol before giving chase in what must be modern cinemas slowest wheelchair versus middle aged man race ever.

All looks lost until Mike in a rare flash of intelligence, hides behind the monkey exhibit and shouts "BOO!" as Drea wheels by causing the scientist to shit himself, the runny consistency of which makes Drea slide off his seat and onto a prop  guillotine exhibit, which decapitates him.

Back on the roof Groton, pulling his best sex face, is closing in on Judith but just as all seems lost who should turn up but Sgt. Martin and Clive Strange back from discovering the three bodies under the pier.

Strange spots Judith running across the roof and Martin, desperate to shoot someone, opens fire on Groton.

"Put it in me!"

Running to the roof to comfort Judith, Mark seems to have forgotten one tiny thing.

The title of the film.

For waiting in the shadows Dracula is plotting a terrible revenge on those who have thwarted his plans.

A revenge that will at some point involve him bitch slapping a potato-faced monster whilst Judith's breasts look on in terror....

"I fang you!"

Where to start when it comes to the late king of exploitation Al Adamson and his work?

Director, producer, actor and writer Adamson directed an impressive (in quantity if not quality) thirty movies between 1961 and 1983 before retiring from films and getting involved in real estate.

Tho' probably not beach-front piers with stone basements.

Back to his movies tho' and whilst Dracula vs. Frankenstein is nowhere near one of his better efforts it does have the most comically convoluted stories behind it's journey to the big screen.

Beginning production in 1968 as The Blood Seekers with much the same plot and cast Adamson was reported as being unhappy with the finished product, feeling it lack a certain something and consequently shelved the entire movie, putting all his efforts into the other seven (!) he had in production at the same time.

Jump forward a few years and Al's producer pal Sam Sherman, is panicking into a bottle of Rum.

It appears that he foolishly signed a contract to deliver a brand new full colour Frankenstein film to the drive-in theatre crowd and, after spending the cash on crisps and fizzy pop has only days in which to find one before he gets his legs broken.

In an attempt to cheer his pal up, Adamson took Sherman to the cinema where the pair found themselves watching Paul Naschy's debut film La Marca del Hombre Lobo (AKA The Mark of The Wolfman) alongside Holiday on The Buses.

It was at this point Sherman hatched a cunning plan.

He would buy the rights to the movie and change the title to The Something of Frankenstein therefore filling his obligation and make a few bob on the side.

Unfortunately tho' Holiday on The Buses was too expensive (Hammer wanted £18.60 for the worldwide rights) to purchase so instead he ended up with Naschy's movie which he quickly retitled Frankenstein's Bloody Terror (despite it not featuring Frankenstein) before releasing it onto an unsuspecting audience.

The plan worked and to celebrate Sherman took Adamson out for a baked potato and a pint of cider and it was during this meal, as Adamson looked down on the cheese melting across his lumpy spud that the director realised what was missing from the Blood Seekers footage.

A monster with a potato for a face.

With a cry of "Eureka!" Adamson jumped from his seat causing the man sitting behind to accidentally spray tomato sauce of his wife's heaving bosom.

Noticing the red liquid dripping seductively down her swan-like (if a little too hairy) neck the film making duo looked at each other before both shouting:

"Dracula!"

And thus a legend was born.

"Wahey Blakey! I'm spunking tenners!"

But who had the gravitas to play such an iconic roll?

And who was brave enough to bring the Count kicking and screaming into the 1970's?

Sherman wanted genre veteran John Carradine, thinking that the actor would bring a noble gravitas to a portrayal of an older, more desperate Dracula, out of time and thrust into the modern world for one last attempt at immortality.

But Adamson had other ideas, he wanted someone young and sexy but more importantly he wanted someone with a beard.

A beard fashioned from pubic hair.

With this in mind he called upon his stockbroker Robert 'pubey' Engel who accepted the part on the spot.

Funnel or tunnel?

Renamed Zandor Vorkov (a partial anagram of Talentless tosser), his voicebox replaced with that of a bass-heavy transistor radio slightly off-tuned to medium wave and his skin bleached with ammonia, Engel's was ready to begin shooting.

All that was left to do now was to find and purchase a really big potato and find someone willing to put it on their head.

This job fell to the massive, slack jawed 7 foot, 4 inch bulkily hulky John Bloom. Known as Johnny 'Horsecock' Bloom to his friends, the actor had already appeared in such greats as The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant and Up Your Alley before Adamson came a calling and he too had unique ideas as to how the infamous monster should be portrayed.


As a club-footed tramp obviously.

And how did it all turn out?

Well I would usually say see for yourselves but frankly I'm not that much of an unfeeling bastard.

If you have already seen it there are groups out there to help you adjust back into normal life life.

And if not?

Just memorize this review and kid on that you saw it.

It's for the best.

lady gah gah!

A wee break from all that Spanish stuff I've been posting - what can I say? I get easily distracted.

Purchased this yonks ago as part of a 4 film DVD release alongside Grotesque, The Velvet Vampire and Time Walker.

That'll teach me to shop whilst drunk.

Anyway the lovely folk at Nucleus Films are releasing a fully restored, cleaned up and uncut version of it this year so thought I'd give the old one a final watch before I bin it in favour of theirs*.

Fickle? Me?



Lady Frankenstein (AKA Madame Frankenstein / Daughter of Frankenstein / La Figlia di Frankenstein. 1971).
Dir: Mel Welles.
Cast: Rosalba Neri, Joseph Cotten, Paul Müller, Peter Whiteman, Herbert Fux, Mickey Hargitay, Marino Masé AND Renate Kasché.

"I've been up all night with my husband. He's resting now."

Somewhere in deepest, darkest Europe sometime in the 1870s (or it could be the 1970s by the look of the sideburns) a terrifying trio of ghoulish grave robbers led by the evil Kenny Lynch (the brilliantly monikered Herbert Fux) are busy delivering a dead body (obviously) to Baron Brian Frankenstein (a scarily pissed up Cotten wearing so much foundation that he's beginning to resemble an Issac Asimov trilogy) and his camply pube haired assistant Dr. Marshall Cavendish (Famed rice maker, star of Nightmare Castle and father of Robert, Müller) for the purpose of their nefarious experiments.

So far so clichéd.

Yet still very, very comfy.

Does he now?

But it's not all re-animated corpses and pulsating pop bottle tho' as it seems that the good doctors daughter Tania (council estate Rachel Weiss, Neri) is coming to stay after recently graduating from scientist school.

Greeted upon her arrival by the visually stunning yet mentally impaired handyman cum Poundshop Udo Kier Thomas (Contamination's Lt. Tony Aris himself Masé) whose job it is to look after the ickle aminals that the Baron uses for his transplant experiments, Tania heads to her room to get changed into a new more exotic outfit.

Something she will do between every scene.

Seriously hair continuity alone must have been a nightmare.

Anyway, it transpires that all this animal husbandry is, in fact, a cover for the real experiments and Tania soon reveals to her dad that she has always know about his plan to create a creature entirely from dead bodies and is eager to help.

The Baron begrudgingly agrees before heading off to a hanging to celebrate.

It seems a sexy man is to be executed for crimes against fashion and Frankenstein can't wait to get his hands on his body.

Meanwhile local police Captain, Harris Tweed (Jayne Mansfield's ex and father of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit star Mariska, Hargitay - see? who says this blog isn't in depth?), is paying a visit to Lynch's house in order to warn him that he knows he's a bad man and just in case we hadn't realised this ourselves the director helpfully shows him drunkenly pawing a prostitute as he defiantly tells Harris to sod off.

The overwhelming smell of chives was just too much for Leslie Dixon.

Back at the main plot and the locals are busy cheering and jeering as the prisoner is transported to the gallows and not wanting to be accused of being lax at his job Harris arrives in order to hassle Lynch (again) about the amount of empty graves in the cemetery as well as to ogle Tania whilst imagining ski-ing down her milky white cleavage.

Or was it the other way round?

As night draws in Lynch and co. successfully steal the bad mans body and sneak it over to the Baron who alongside Marshall  manages to pop its brain into an already constructed body - and thanks to a handy electrical storm - re-animate it.

Unfortunately the lightning causes the bandages to catch fire leaving the poor sod with boss-eyes and a head that looks like a half-chewed caramel penis (Whiteman in what was unfortunately his only film role outside those super 8's he made with your gran).

"Shite in mah mooth ya undead bastard!"

As Marshall heads off to the cellar to fetch some booze to celebrate the creature stiffly rises from the operating table and grabs the Baron and hugs him to death (no really) before stomping off into the woods as Tania watches in horror from behind the laundry basket.

The next day Tania and Marshall decide - for some reason that escapes me -  to contact Captain Harris to say that a robber broke into the house and killed the Baron before stealing his prize pottery pig collection.

Maybe they're gonna put an insurance claim in?

Using his detective powers Harris deduces that from Marshall's description the police should be looking for a seven foot giant in a ladies blouse and with a head like a novelty condom.

Which say what you like about this movie that at least gives it the edge over The Bill.

As this is a classic of European cinema it's not too long before the screen is filled with a wee bit of tasteful (female) nudity as the creature comes across (not in a gooey off-white mess way obviously) a fairly unattractive couple having sex by a river.

Squashing the mans head the beast nimbly picks up the lady before tossing her into the water only to be found later by two fishermen who the creature then proceeds to kill.

Which is nice.

Remember when your girlfriend said she was going camping with her pals?

As the bodies keep piling up Harris is left no alternative but to shout at everyone whilst angrily stomping about in a nice cape as all the characters we've come to know and love (Lynch and his grave robbing pals) and some we've never met before (a farmer and his - way too young - wife) are all butchered by the bald-headed beast.

Back at the castle there's something else stirring as Tania goads Marshall into admitting that he loves her and would like to have some of 'the sex' with her.

Being a typical attractive lady she responds by saying that she'd allow him to put it in her if he had better hair and was about 20 years younger (tell me about it, it's almost like the director was copying parts of my life) but not to worry as she's found a solution.

You see it seems that Tania thinks Thomas is a bit of alright so persuades Marshall to help her kill the handyman so she can them place his brain in the Thomas' young studly body.

Sounds legit.

Marshall agrees so Tania seduces Thomas before suffocating him at the moment of climax.

Which if I'm honest isn't that bad a way to go.

Everything is going swimmingly until Thomas' sister Julia (Kasché whom you may remember as Zenzi in Kurt Nachmann's 1970 classic Naughty Knickers) arrives looking for him.

Tania says that he's gone on holiday to recover from the Barons death but Julia doesn't trust her so heads over to see Harris and after a good bitching session both decide that Tania is guilty.

Of what tho' neither are sure but it looks like Harris may be in with the chance of a shag so to hell with evidence.
 

Your mums cum face....trust me I know and so does your uncle peter.

Working from her fathers research and some hastily scribble lipstick notes written on the back of an old tampon packet and with time against her, Tania somehow manages to successfully transplants Marshall's brain into Thomas' body with little or no trouble at all and as a bonus Marshall now possesses super strength and the ability to speak with both his own and Thomas' voice, which will probably come in handy when Harris turns up in a minute to ask him about the robbery and if in fact it was committed by a monster him and the Baron had made in the basement.

Your mum and dads wedding photo.

Meanwhile (it's always meanwhile) the creature/beast/oh go on then Frankenstein's monster has finally arrived in town and is busying himself smashing everyones plant pots much to the towns-folks chagrin leaving them with only one option....

Torch Frankenstein's castle!

Which seeing as they have absolutely fuck all evidence that anything has happened there.

If anything the whole (over) reaction is based on nothing more than Julia saying she doesn't like Tania because she wears too much make-up.

Chasing the creature to the castle it is confronted by an axe-wielding  Marshall/Thomas/Thomshall and the pair engage in an almost homoerotically charged fight that culminates with the creature getting its arm chopped off and Tania stabbing the pair of them with a sword.

Dollar have let themselves go....

Marshall/Thomas/Thomshall although seeming a wee bit peeved at this decides to forgive Tania for sticking something in him and the pair strip naked and indulge in a sweaty bout of sexy stuff as the castle burns around them.

As Harris vainly tries to get the villagers to leave the burning castle Julia notices the glistening spunk encrusted form of her brother entwined around Tania like a bright pink fleshy snake violently thrusting his manroot into her freshly trimmed lady garden as an inferno rages around them, shouting his name she watches in horror (and it must be said slight arousal - or was that me?) as Marshall/Thomas/Thomshall slowly and methodically chokes Tania as the pair are engulfed by the flames.....

Although released in 1971, clinical psychologist, radio DJ, actor, writer and film director Mel Welles' Lady Frankenstein harks back to a simpler age coming across as a throwback to Roger Corman's 60s Poe output gleefully mixed with all the nudity and horror you'd expect from a Hammer film via the look of the best (and sometimes worst) Eurotrash classics of the time.

And that's no bad thing.

Whilst the plot - save for the slightly ahead of its time theme of female empowerment that was most likely accidental - is no great shakes and the make-up and effects border on the poundshop side of Halloween it's the performances that make the movie with Rosalba Neri** (credited here as Sara Bay) epitomizing everything we've come to know and love with regards to EuroHorror starlets.

Dusky, raven haired and with a touch of saucy sadomasochistic menace she dominates every scene (and every wardrobe change) in the movie and is worth the price of admission alone, the only person that comes close to matching her is the great Paul Müller, all crap-hair and poppy eyes coming across for all the world like a slightly fey, crack addled ferret/man hybrid made flesh.

Rosalba Neri- You would, I would, your granddad did. Twice.

  

 To be honest tho' it's a good job that the pair are so good as everyone else involved appears to be either drunk or sleeping - or in Joseph Cotten's case both - whilst rent-a-lunk Mickey Hargitay bravely stumbles about as if he's in a community centre production of Columbo where the entire cast has been dressed in market stall Elvis hand-me-downs whilst the sensational Herbert Fux makes us wonder why he didn't become a movie mega star or at the very least got to appear in panto, it takes a brave man to pull of skin-tight beige leggings and still look tough.

And if all that's not enough to convince you name another film where the supporting cast are so flimsy that you begin to notice the actors headwear?

Seriously at about the 30 minutes mark I realised that quite a few of the cast were sharing a green trilby, go watch it - it's true.

We then played a game of counting how many times and on how many different heads it appeared.

You try it too and write in with your results, there's a prize for the winner.

"I can see your house from here Peter!"

Despite - or because - of all that Lady Frankenstein is still a fantastically entertaining movie, at once a work of erotic genius with an added taste of nightmarish medical drama draped in comfy gothic trappings that are juxtaposed by an air of overall shoddiness that somehow adds to its charm and went some way to explaining why it became the biggest money-making female-based Frankenstein movie released in 1971.

Pre-order that BluRay now.





















*Plus I'm hoping they used my artwork for it, cos it's rather good even if I say so myself.






**If you're interested in seeing more of her work may I recommend Ottavio Alessi's 1969 erotic thriller Top Sensation that not only features Ms Neri playing a bikini-clad nympho but also stars Edwige Fenech as a pervy prostitute.

You can thank me later.

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, Dana Shum 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!"