people you fancy but shouldn't (part 85).

Seeing as it's Eurovision weekend it has to be this years Danish entry, Leonora.

Honestly you cannae beat braces and big trousers.

buio vista sociopath club.

Taking a break from mixing visuals for a Prince tribute night alongside creating frankly magnificent mash-ups for Simply Thrilled by revisiting one of my fave romantic comedies.

Enjoy.

Buio Omega: Beyond the Darkness (AKA Blue Holocaust , The Final Darkness. 1979).
Dir: Joe D'Amato.
Cast: Kieren Canter, Cinzia Monreale, Franca Stoppi, Anna Cardini, Lucia D'Elia and Sam Modesto.

"All right little boy, no one will touch your baby doll".

Welcome one and all to the sad, mad and thoroughly bad world of the slightly intense and incredibly lonely freak boy Frank Willer (Eroticoblues flaxen haired Canter) who  since the recent and not to mention mysterious death of his beautiful partner Anna (the lovely Monreale from The Beyond who bizarrely enough owns a piece of my artwork - small world) spends most of his days skulking around his huge villa with only his frightening taste in late seventies fashions, a pair of patent leather Kickers and his Mrs. Doyle-like, potato headed and onion odoured housekeeper Iris (stern faced Stoppi, star of Emanuelle fuga dall'inferno, The Other Hell and the underrated Bestiality among other things to gruesome too mention here) for company.

Being too rich (and too wet) to work Frank spends most of his - non whining - time either attempting to perfect his hobby (which is taxidermy, this may become important later) or suckling on Iris's left breast as she strokes his hair and calls him "Her little Frank".

Just like your mum does when you go to visit.

Stoppi: A mooth made for shite-in in.

If you think that's a wee bit strange - or even a little arousing - I wont judge - just wait till Anna's funeral, when just before the ceremony Frankie boy sneaks into the funeral home and quietly injects her corpse with an embalming liquid, either because he's having the service on the cheap or that he has other plans for his dead missis.

Which do you think?

Unbeknown to Frank, Mr. Kale (flash in the pan/cum in my pants Modesto) the friendly neighbourhood funeral director sees the whole thing.

Gah.

Obviously not wanting to spoil the funeral he keeps quiet and heads off home for a drink or three which allows Frank to sneak (he does a lot off that during the film) back that very night and exhume Anna's still fresh, yet slightly stiff body, bundle it into the back of his Ford Transit and head home.

But you know what they say about best laid plans and all that, 'cos the journey is a disaster of Last of The Summer Wine comedic proportions with Frank first having to endure a flat tire followed by a run in with the police before finally coming across an obscenely permed and squint eyed 'cock-er-nee' (the dubbing director must have been either very drunk or very bored) food obsessed hitchhiker named Jan (D'Elia) who won't take no for answer.

Or by the state of her that bag of chips away from her mouth.

Falling asleep in the van after one too many pasties, Jan is oblivious when Frank  drags Anna's corpse into the basement and then slicing her open from boob to bush to remove her vitals before finally sucking her brain thru' a tube up her nose.

Which is fairly lucky really because no doubt that greedy bitch Jan would've probably tried to scoff it all.

His luck can't last tho' and just as he's popping Anna's glass eyes into her exquisite skull Jan stumbles into the basement - obviously drawn by the smell of fresh offal - to find Frank covered in blood, sweat, shit and shame whilst bending over the corpse.

Jan screams but as she turns to run the friction of her thighs rubbing together causes a bucket of intestines to fall on her, giving Frank enough time to beat her to death with a rolled up copy of Stuffed Bird Monthly.

Which is better than she deserved if I'm honest.

Which I am.

Always.

Eamon Holmes and Kate Garraway's Strictly Come Dancing routine failed to impress a stern-faced D'Arcy Bussell yesterday. Or was that today?

Iris, no doubt at a loose end after polishing off the china (and Frank) is soon on the scene to help tidy up the mess before helping Frank to carry Anne to the bedroom, dressing her in a lovely nylon nightie and painting her finger and toe nails a luscious deep red colour.

Which actually improves her look no end, complementing as it does her massive blotchy chin.

As a new day dawns Frank sets about his daily routine as if nothing untoward had happened.

Which is probably a good thing seeing as her has an urgent appointment with  Mr. Kale who wants his baboon stuffing.

But Kale has other things on his mind.

And it's not discovering the secret of how baboons manage to keep their arses so red and peachy.

You see it seems that word has gotten out that someone stole Anna's corpse and Kale suspects Frank of the crime and in a sneaky plan that Columbo would be proud of arranges for a mutual friend to discuss the project whilst he sneaks into Frank's basement.

Alas Kale doesn't come across any corpses - he's probably still spent from doing that at work on slow days -  but does find a necklace belonging to Anna.
Spookily it was the one she was buried in.

Tho' Kale ignores this fact and goes home.

No doubt to search T'internet for ape porn.

He must have really loved that baboon.

Boiled onions!

We've no time for monkey sex tho' (which is unusual for D'Amato) because Frank still has a body to get rid of.

Waiting till nightfall (and till his loyal housekeeper has done the dishes) he gets Iris to pop Jan's body in the bathtub - don't worry, it's a bloody big bath - and cover it in acid before pulping the remaining lumpy bits with a hammer.

The sight of Iris taking such pleasure from her work (well it's either that or the smell from her breath) is enough to make Frank vomit but luckily Iris is more than willing to 'take him in hand' and make it all better.

Which in case you found that too subtle means she gives him a handjob whilst pulling a face like your nan when she wins at bingo.

Cardini: your dad did. Twice.

The next day Frank understandably decides to go driving to help clear his head.

And hopefully get rid of the memory - and smell - of Iris' beefy fingers.

It's not long tho' (it is a fairly short movie) before his mind is completely cleared of all things murder and old lady sex related thanks to the sight of an ample arsed, poodle haired jogger sitting at the side of the road suggestively rubbing her swollen ankle and Frank, being the gentlemanly type immediately offers to take her up the villa for a thorough bandaging.

The woman (Cardini coming across like a slightly saucier version of top 70's teevee star Susan Stranks and one of the few actresses to get a 4 out of 5 'nice feet' rating on Wikifeet) obviously attracted to Bri-Nylon leisure wear, accepts his offer.

No sooner have they arrived at Frank's pad than the pair of them are kissing, cuddling and engaging in general fondling on the sofa and Frank, happy to be finally pulling someone fairly attractive (as opposed to dead old or just dead) drags his new lady friend off to the bedroom for a quick shag.

You remember the bedroom don't you?

You know the one where he keeps his dead wife.

Everything is going swimmingly till Frank decides, just at the moment of entry, pulls down the bedsheets revealing Anna's corpse.

The juicy jogger turns her head and upon seeing this completely different kind of stiffie leering over her begins to scream.

Frank has no choice but to kill her.

And stupidly before he's even climaxed.

Luckily Iris is on hand to (eventually) clean up both messes.

"Sssssh! You'll wake me mam!" - That's you losing your virginity that is.

Obviously jealous at the thought of Frank shagging someone his own age (and someone who's breathing) Iris decides that the best course of action would be to get rid of Anna's body and persuade Frank to marry her, promising him a lifetime of vinegary hand-jobs and leek soup.

Frank not too surprisingly isn't too keen on getting rid of Anna but scarily agrees to marry Iris (the sick fuck) and even offers to make her the mistress of the estate.

If it were me I'd rather carry on shagging the corpse.

Any corpse.

Even your nan's.

Again.

Desperate to keep her hands (and black toothed mouth) on Franks manhood she begrudgingly agrees, promising to look after both Frank and his 'baby doll'.

I've already done a 'mooth shite' caption.....damn.

After excitedly buying a new dress and washing her bun Iris invites her family over to dinner in order to celebrate her engagement to Frank but things get off to a sticky start when the groom to be storms off in a huff, locking himself in his bedroom with Anna, professing his undying love for her whilst gently stroking her golden hair.

Which is kinda sweet if I'm honest.

Annoyed at her fiancés no show, Iris storms upstairs in an attempt to finally persuade Frank to get rid of Anna causing our hero to finally see the error of his ways.

By that I mean agreeing to shag a pensioner, not sharing a bed with a corpse obviously.

As the argument becomes more heated Frank realises that punching Iris in the face whilst calling her a dirty old whore isn't really going to help matters and the pair decide to call it a day.

Well Frank decides to call it a day, Iris on the other hand has gone totally fruitloops and she's decided to call it a strawberry.

Whilst all this shouty stuff's been going on, Mr. Kale (remember him?) has been keeping his beedy eye (as opposed to the weeping squint one) on Frank and all the creepy goings on at the villa.

Between perving over primates obviously.

But just when Frank (and the audience) don't think the situation can get any worse (or convoluted), who should turn up but Anna's never before mentioned twin sister Elena (Monreale again) in order to pay her respects to Frank.

She was obviously too busy getting her nails done to attend the funeral.

In reality she's only turned up to give the director an excuse to send everyone off the deep end and into the murky waters of mentalism in preparation for a blood soaked climax.

So will Frank come to his senses and end up marrying Elena?

Will Iris ever wash?

And more importantly will Kale ever get his hands on that stuffed baboon?

Answers to the usual email address.

The late 70’s to mid 80’s was a prolific time for the European horror genre and is seen by many as the career high point for such directors as Lucio Fulci, Dario Argento, Luigi Cozzi and Umberto Lenzi, their work constantly pushing back the boundaries of cinema with increasingly bizarre plots and simply lashings of gore in such masterpieces as Zombie Flesh Eaters, Tenebrae, Contamination*, The Beyond and Cannibal Ferox.

But the genres most underrated (and under appreciated) director must be the late great Aristide Massaccesi  (AKA Joe D'Amato, the man I share my birthday with).

Best known as a soft core porn director, he also contributed to the Euro-horror genre with such ‘classics’ as Anthropophagus: The Beast (starring Mia’s one eyed, ex cab driver sister Tisa Farrow) before wowing audiences worldwide with his fantastic forays into goreporn Erotic Nights of The Living Dead, Emmanuelle and The Last Cannibals (both starring dusky eyed beauty Laura Gemser) and  the subtly titled Porno Holocaust.

But perhaps his most accessible (and definitely least sordid) work is the wonderful Buio Omega: Beyond The Darkness.

With it's genius examples of Eurocentric 'panto acting, surrealist dubbing coupled with scenes of uncompromising violence and cheap gore the film stands up as D'Amato's most accomplished movie.

For one thing it has a vague semblance of a plot (usually his movies go: opening titles, shagging, murder, shagging, talky bit, shagging, misplaced 70's synth score, murder, end credits), a particularly strong lead performance from Kieren Canter (the only one he ever gave if I'm honest), a fantastically evocative score from Goblin, adequate - tho' barely - special effects and some even genuinely creepy moments.

Tho' it must be said that the best of these are when Iris attempts sexiness.

Gah indeed.

But just imagine tho' how much greater still it could've been in the hands of a more capable director (the bloke who directed Lord of Salem perhaps or Eli Roth?)**.

I'm sure there's a really bizarre alternate film universe where this is seen as a definitive Eurohorror classic, a kind of Italian Psycho or Peeping Tom. 

As it stands we have a sometimes tense, slightly vile but entertaining movie with a heart as black as Iris' tightly curled pubes. 

And for once D'Amato resisted using actors with porn mustaches, frightful chest wigs and a bad case of genital warts, for which we can all be thankful.































*OK maybe not Contamination. 


**For my American readers this is what we call irony.

croc-o-shite.

Just won a copy of this from the rather nice Mr Nasty Pasty on Twitter so thought I'd re-watch it as it's one of my fave Tobe Hooper movies.

Don't worry - I'll actually do some work at some point.

Especially if one of you actually hire me.

Eaten Alive (AKA Death Trap, Starlight Slaughter, Horror Hotel, Horror Hotel Massacre. 1977).
Dir: Tobe Hooper.

Cast: Neville Brand, Marilyn Burns, Carolyn Jones, Stuart Whitman, Janus Blythe, Betty Cole, Kyle Richards, Roberta Collins, William Finley, Mel Ferrer and Crystin Sinclaire.

"My name's Buck and I'm rarin' to fuck!"

Welcome to the small US town of Tossburgh (near Texas I'm assuming from the fashions and accents), it might not be much to look at but it has everything a weary traveler will need.

On main street there's the world famous Bad Place Brothel run by Miss Hattie (Morticia Addams herself, Carolyn Jones looking for all the world like a half melted Truman Capote waxwork), a bar cum diner that appears to have only one song on the jukebox and a, um, police station run by Mark Forrest from Invaders of The Lost Gold.

On one of his rare, sober days obviously.

If you need somewhere to relax after a hard days boozing and shagging then the town boasts a fantastic place to stay that's just a few minutes away, the terrific Starlight Motel, located in an incredibly secluded wood just outside town.

Let's be honest tho', the reason it's so secluded is that it's actually in a studio, miles away from any live action shots.

Oh  and it's lit like something from Crossroads.

Run by the enigmatically bowl haired ex-soldier Leslie Judd (Neville Brand, star of Stalag 17 and father of Russell and Jo), the establishment boasts hot and cold running mentalism, flock wallpaper, an old sofa on the porch and a mini petting zoo consisting of a giant crocodile.
Just the place to take the kids.

Or it would be if Judd could go longer than ten minutes without offing somebody.

"Where's me washboard?"

Anyway, on with the plot where good ol' boy Buck Buckley (Sir Robert of Englund) is just about to get his end away with a pink babydoll nightied, bubble permed prostitute by the name of Clara (Death Race 2000's  Collins) on one of his frequent visits to the aforementioned Bad Place Brothel.

So far so seventies fashioned.

It's the poor gals first time tho' and Buck doesn't make it any better by roughly rolling her over and trying to do her up the arse, which as we all know is most definitely second date stuff.

Terrified and helpless Clara begs Buck to stop but our pervy pal is adamant that he wants his full hours worth of fun and tells her as much whilst trying to stick it in her.

Which would probably be a lot easier if he wasn't wearing his trousers and her a big pair of black granny pants.

But hey, that must be how they do things in the south.

Attracting the attention of Miss Hattie, Clara announces that she no longer wants to be a whore, most definitely doesn't fancy a wee bit of anal violation and wishes to return home.

Being a caring, sharing kinda boss, Hattie offers Buck a fantastic two for one deal before kicking poor Clara out into the street.

Jon Pertwee's initial costume choice was quickly vetoed by the producer.

With only some stamps, twenty pence and a hairy mint in her purse poor Clara trudges up the street in the hope of finding somewhere to stay.

Cut to a dimly lit backlot and our failed floozy is soon outside the Starlight Motel and it's oddball owner.

All's going swimmingly (well as swimmingly as a conversation between a bewigged block of wood and a man so over the top he's in orbit can go) until Judd realizes where Carla used to work.

Baring his yellowing teeth he picks the poor girl up off the floor and squeezes her arse before bludgeoning her to death with a scythe and feeding her whole to his croc.

And you thought they spat that bit out.

No sooner has Judd cleaned up the mess that was Clara's bowel than more guests arrive.

Albeit ones driving very slowly for fear of knocking down the cardboard trees.

Please welcome Mr. and Mrs. Des Functional, their daughter Angie and pet dog.

Liza Minelli-wigged Mrs. Functional (Marilyn Burns from TCM) desperately tries to hold on to an air of normality whilst her poppy eyed, crow faced hubbie Des (Finley from Phantom of The Paradise) minces around like a drunk Slinky whilst barking at the dog, much to the amusement (oh alright, total apathetic blankness) of wee Angie (latter day babe Richards).

Don't fret tho' cos it's not long before dad's dead, the dogs been eaten, mom's stripped down to her little white undies and tied to her bed, her mouth duct taped up and poor little Angie is trapped under the house whilst Judd menacingly waves his chopper at her.

Cliff Richard, up the casino, last week.

Judd's underage carnage will have to wait tho' as who should turn up next?

Only Clara's dad, the grumpy Mr. Harvey Wood (no shame Ferrer) and his terrifyingly plain younger daughter Libby (Sinclaire).

Father Harvey, obviously annoyed at how his career has gone after divorcing Audrey Hepburn starts shouting at Judd regarding the motel's wallpaper but before it can escalate into a bit of full on topless old man wrestling Libby calms the situation down.

Unfortunately.

Shuffling back to his car in order to get his luggage (which surprisingly isn't kept in the huge leathery bags under his eyes) Harvey comes across Sheriff Martin (movie icon and walking brewery Whitman) who kindly offers to help in their quest to find Clara.

Insert cock here. Again.

 

Harvey decides to rest up in the motel whilst Libby heads into town with Martin for a slap up meal and heartfelt chinwag at the local bar, giving her a chance to experience Buck's chat up skills and marvel at the frankly perfectly pert arse belonging to his date, the luscious lolita Lynette (the yumsome Blythe from The Hills Have Eyes and one of my first major movie crushes).

This sight is, by far the best reason to watch the movie.

You'd have to. Twice. Maybe three times on a Friday.

Unfortunately with no-one to stop them arguing it's only a matter of time before Judd and Harvey are back at each others throats, Harvey using a clenched fist and Judd his trusty scythe.

Unsurprisingly it's not too long before Harvey's bloodied corpse is chucked into the lake.

Bloody hell, that crocodile's gonna burst at this rate.

with Libby heading back to the motel for a snooze, Buck and Lynette heading over for 'the sex', poor Angie still stuck under the floorboards and mum desperate for a wee it can only be a matter of time before someone (anyone? Please?) discovers how far Judd is willing to go to keep his pet happy.

But who will survive?

And what will be left of them?

Or their careers.

Tramp in mah big green mooth!

With a director and writer hot off the back of an all-time cult classic and an ensemble cast to die for, Eaten Alive should be one of the all time greats of the horror genre.

Unfortunately Hooper didn't so much as drop the ball than not actually have a ball to begin with.

Or any idea of what the fuck to do with the ball if it actually existed.

Unlike the hyper real Texas Chainsaw, which made it's lack of budget, non-actors and home-made sets a unique feature of the film, Eaten Alive seems strangely studio bound looking for all the world like it was shot for peanuts in the late sixties by a particularly ham-fisted Herschell Gordon Lewis wannabe; the plotting is nonsensical, the editing obviously done by a hook-handed child leaving long
















pauses













in the middle of scenes and the scratched, outdated film stock (obviously found in a bin) and lack of continuity between studio and location work gives the impression of two different movies shoddily spliced together.

Unfortunately for us neither of them look any good.

Blythe: Nice, milky thighs you could ski down.

But it's not all bad.

I mean, with a cast as great as this how could it be?

Plus it does feature a tiny monkey.

And William Finley (sporting the greasiest barnet ever committed to celluloid) barking like a dog in a vane attempt to get noticed by David Lynch and rescued from this madness.

Plus Janus Blythe's oft mentioned perfectly sculptured arse and silky smooth thighs.

And it's strangely hypnotic, like a particularly gruesome car crash drawing you in until you find it impossible to turn away, desperate to find out what Hooper will throw at the screen next.

Nowhere near as great as his Classic Lifeforce but still worth a look.

Especially if you suffer from sadomasochistic tendencies.

Or are a twelve year old boy.

Possibly.

wee burnie.

Released 38 years ago today, it seems as good an excuse as any to revisit.....

The Burning (1981).
Dir: Tony Maylam.
Cast: Brian Matthews, Lou David, Leah Ayres, Brian Backer, Larry Joshua, Jason Alexander, Ned Eisenberg, Carrick Glenn, Carolyn Houlihan, Fisher Stevens, Shelley Bruce, Sarah Chodoff, Bonnie Deroski, Holly Hunter and J.R. McKechnie.

 Don't worry. Tonight's the night that we scare the shit out of Cropsy. Because when he wakes up, when he see it, he's gonna have a heart attack.

It's a normal sunny day at the amusingly monikered Camp Blackfoot (named no doubt in honour of one of top 70's TV comedian Dick Emery's most popular characters); the jocks are baiting the nerds, the camp counsellors are busying themselves having the sex and the kids are getting ready for a jolly old sing-song and a Weiner roast round the fire.

Unfortunately the Weiner that ends up getting roasted belongs to the camps resident caretaker Terry "Cropsy" Cropston as during the night a group of mischievous bad boys sneak into his cabin and place a worm covered skull - wearing candles for eyes - next to his bed with the sole intention of getting the poor bloke to wet himself.

As is the way in '80's horror movies tho' everything goes tits up and Cropsy gets so frightened that he knocks the skull onto his bed setting his eggy bedsheets and - 100 % polyester - Farrah Fawcett nightshirt aflame.

Leaping from his bed the unfortunate fella accidentally knocks over a nearby gas cannister causing the whole cabin to be engulfed by a raging fireball and leaving Cropsy with no alternative but to stumble out of his by now charred abode - in glorious slo-mo obviously I mean that asbestos suit isn't going to pay for itself - and crash headlong into a river.

I don't know who was the more burned, Crospy wearing it or the guy that paid 250 quid for it on Ebay.

Jump forward five years and Cropsy - or Crispy as he should probably be now known - is released from hospital, decked out in a rather fetching flasher mac, big ass sunglasses and fedora to hide his melted visage the first thing he does, which is what anyone in his circumstances would do if I'm honest, is head out to murder a prostitute.

Albiet one that almost chocked at the sight (but not on) his well cooked spring roll looking penis.

So I suppose that that's OK then. 

No caption necessary.

Realising that he's found his true vocation in life our burned-up buddy decides to head off to the nearest summer camp (in this case the far less amusing Camp Stonewater) and armed with a nifty new pair of garden shears extract revenge on any teenagers that cross his path.

Hiding behind a convenient bush it's not long before he comes across the tomboyish Tiger (ex-Annie star Bruce) who is busy searching for a lost baseball in the undergrowth.

Luckily for Tiger her androgynous nature confuses Cropsy and unsure whether to stab or shag her (as if the two were mutually exclusive) hesitates long enough for her to escape.

Tunnel or funnel?

Back at the camp it's business as usual as we're introduced to the teen cast that will be our victims for the next 90 minutes starting with the showering sexy senior Sally (Girls Nite Out star Glenn) who gets to show off her ample arse as the pube-haired friendless geek Alfred (Backer, best known as A. Bartlett Congdon in Santa Barbara) tries to put the willies up her before running away.

Sally's screams - alongside the light glistening on her ample breasts - bring Michelle (St. Elsewhere's Ayres), Karen (former Miss Ohio, Houlihan), Todd (Matthews AKA David Laurent from Santa Barbara, the TV show where all ex-horror stars go to die) and Eddy (Law & Order: Special Victims Unit's Eisenberg) running to the rescue and slap bang into poor Alfred.

Todd, being a nice guy, feeling sorry for Alfred takes the lonely teen in hand (but not alas in the mouth) and has a brotherly chat with him regarding the rights and wrongs of spying on naked teens, even going so far as stopping Sally's boyfriend Paul Michael Glazer (jobbing thesp Joshua) from giving him a kicking.

If only someone had done this for me as a teen things would have turned out so much different.

And probably less messy.

They might look happy now but just wait till the stabbing starts.

Later that night, whilst attempting to get to sleep after a visit from the mysterious Mother Fist and her five alluring daughters, Alfred spots Cropsy crouching in the bushes outside his window, obviously enjoying a post show fag but with Alfred being a pervy loner freak and everything, no-one believes him.

Well would you?

A new day dawns and the kids are all excited by the prospect of a canoe trip 'up river', especially Karen who's decided that a boat ride is just the excuse she needs to finally have some of the sex with Eddy.

Cue 10 minutes of soft focus paddling and holiday report style shots of the sun shimmering on the water as a groovy Rick Wakeman score plays in the background.

Which is quite relaxing if I'm honest.

The director obviously realises tho' that all this well directed caring about the characters stuff is getting in the way of why we're all here so as soon as the merry band settle down for snacks, Karen and Eddy head to the rivers edge for a wee bout of skinny dipping.

Unfortunately - it's probably something to do with the temperature of the water - Karen changes her mind after seeing Eddy's wrinkly and somewhat shrivelled penis and quickly heads back to shore where she discovers that all of her clothes have been strewn about in the woods.

I say all of her clothes but I actually mean just the ones she was wearing, obviously whoever did it hadn't gone to her house, raided her wardrobe then driven/hitch-hiked back and just thrown them everywhere, that would be silly. 

But all this chat is immaterial frankly for as Karen bends down to retrieve her undies Cropsy appears from nowhere and slits her throat.

Paddle in mah pond!

Things go from bad to very annoying via slight inconvenience the next morning when Michelle discovers that not only is Karen missing but that the canoes have been cut adrift and have floated off up the lake.

Luckily Todd, being the handy sensible type organises the group into two parties; one group, including Eddy and Woodstock (Short Circuit star Stevens) who  alongside the bespectacled Marnie and the instantly forgettable Barbara will build a makeshift (tho' not Makepeace and no sign of Dempsey) raft and to go and retrieve the canoes whilst the others stay behind and gather wood.

For what reason is never explained tho' building a Wicker Man probably isn't it.

Alfred meanwhile decides to go exploring.

It's not too long before Eddy and co. spot one of the missing canoes and quickly paddle toward it only to have Cropsy jump out from under a dog blanket and kill them all to death with his shiny shears.

Which was a wee bit unexpected if I'm honest, I mean how lucky was it that they came across that canoe first?

What would have happened if they'd found the others and decided that that was enough?

Or just walked back to camp?

He could've ended up lying there all summer.

He'd probably still be there now.

Back at base camp Michelle is still worrying about Karen.

"Excuse me, I have my womans period".

As night approaches Glazer decides to make his move on Sally but in the ensuing excitement and at the first hint of nipple he cums in his shorts before storming off in a huff under the pretence of 'starting a fire'.

Been there, done that, still own the (eggy) t-shirt.

Whilst he's away concentrating  on a totally different kind of wood Cropsy steps out from behind a tree and sticks his shears into Sally instead.

Weighed down with kindling and all set for a second attempt Glazer returns to the scene and immediately makes amorous advances on his by now stone cold and uncomfortably stiff missis only to find - in a joke that would make Jeremy Beadle - proud that Cropsy is hiding underneath her corpse.

Fearing getting covered in juicy jock jism, Cropsy jumps up and pins Glazer to a tree.

And can you guess who was watching the whole sordid scene unfold from the bushes in the hope of seeing a hint of snatch?

Yup, it's Alfred.

Running back to camp he quickly rouses  Todd (but not in that way) and tells him what just happened.

Minus the bit where Glazer came in his pants obviously, I mean the guys a freak but he's not heartless.

Todd, upset at being woken from a particularly sexy dream thinks Alfred is lying and sternly tells his to fuck off but our geeky pal is so convincing that Todd eventually offers to go with him and take a look, thinking if nothing else he too might get a glimpse or two of fanny before the night's out.

The only gash that Todd gets to see tho' is the one in Glazer's throat and that's only for a second before Cropsy bonks him on the head and gives chase to Alfred in a scene of Benny Hill proportions as our crispy killer desperately attempts to catch Alfred and Todd (now armed with a handy axe) tries in vain to just catch up.

"Blood in mah mooth!"

Back at camp the rest of the teens are excited to see the raft heading back towards them.

So excited in fact that they mistake the pile of bodies scattered clumsily aboard it as their buddies sleeping.

So you can imagine Michelle's surprise as she approaches it only to discover that it is, in fact full of dead bodies.

And a few of them are still intact.

Amidst the panic and out of the trees appears Todd who, obviously bored with trying to save Alfred has decided to go save the cool kids instead.

Rounding everyone up he gets Michelle to head back to the camp and contact the authorities before realising that the film is nearly over and that, if he save Alfred, he'll be the hero.

Thinking this over for a few seconds he heads back into the woods.

Meanwhile, Cropsy is busying himself pinning Alfred to the wall with his shears in the hope of getting picked to decorate the Chelsea Flower Show entrance hall later in the year.

Coming across a deserted mine opening and noticing the faint odour of frightened virgin (which next to tears and petrol must be the sexiest smell imaginable) Todd sneaks in only to get hit by a rusty mine car which, as luck would have it sends him crashing thru' a convenient cardboard wall and straight into Cropsy's lair where the scene is set for a battle to the death.

"Boiled onions!"

Will Michelle contact the cops and rescue the campers?

Will Todd save Alfred?

Will Cropsy appear to die only to return for one last 'shocking' scene?

Will Rick Wakeman ever stage a musical version of the movie?

From the director of Genesis in concert (no, really), first time film producers Bob and Harvey Weinstein and starring the then unknown Jason Alexander and Fisher Stevens (plus a very young Holly Hunter), The Burning should, by rights be utter shite. 

It's a pleasant surprise then just how great a movie it actually is.

Leaving aside it's sturdy - if hardly original - premise, The Burning has a lot going for it; the direction, from the multi-talented (if a wee bit sport obsessed) Tony Maylam, is terrifyingly taunt and surprisingly classy and the cast (not just the ones who actually went on to have careers) are uniformly great, even those in the more throwaway roles give performances that put most of their contemporary slasher buddies to shame.

A special mention goes out to the frankly wonderful Shelley Bruce as Tiger who's pudding bowl haircut and boyish hips did more to confuse a generation of teenage boys than an entire army of Boy George's could.

Which is actually compliment so please no death threats.

Plus name another film that can boast of having an executive in charge of production with a name like Corky Burger working on it?

Cropsy had won the pools but suddenly realised that he'd burnt his coupon.

Add to the mix a stunning score by Britain's favourite Wizard Sir Rick of Wakeman and some startlingly gruesome effects from a top of his game Tom Savini and you know you have something special.

Unfortunately cinema goers at the time didn't realise it and stayed away in droves.

Unlike our crazy oriental cousins who managed to make it the biggest overseas hit of the year in Japan.

There's a lesson to be learned there but I'm fucked if I know what it is. 

 

she-it.

The weans are on holiday (again) so we're stuck with their choice in movies.

Luckily they have taste.

She (1982)
Dir: Avi Nesher.
Cast: Sandahl Bergman, David Goss, Elena Wiedermann, Gregory Snegoff, David Traylor, Gordon Mitchell, Quin Kessler, David Brandon, Andrew McLeay, Harrison Muller Jr and some camp tramps.

"What's a bomb?"

It is the 23rd year after 'the cancellation', of what I'm not too sure but most likely of the cheaper than your mum animated TV show that opens the movie with it's crayon and crepe paper history of the apocalypse.

Hopefully.

But nuclear annihilation isn't the scariest thing on screen, oh no. 

That'll be the fact that it's only taken 23 years for the sad remnants of humanity to return to dressing up like pound shop new romantics, fighting with swords, flamethrowers and chainsaws instead of guns and riding around on ponies like a collection of underfed rag and bone men.

The only thing that hasn't change is the bizarre obsession with minor celebrities.

In this case it's Arnie's ferret faced Conan sidekick, dancer cum actress Sandahl (daughter of famed Space:1999 scientist Victor) Bergman who, until someone more famous comes along is currently worshiped as a living God.

Which is nice.

Meanwhile the common folk spend their days wandering around the local market in the hope of picking up cheap meat off-cuts, dodgy phonecards and pirate DVD's.

Not really so different there then.

It's in one such market that we meet the duo who will act as our heroes for the next 90 minutes (tho' it will seem much, much longer), a Chuckle Brothers for the 21st century, blond bombshell Tom (Goss, last seen working as a production assistant on that hit show The Bachelorette) and his pube haired (almost) comedy sidekick Dick (Muller Jr. from The Final Executioner) who, within minutes of arriving on the scene are viciously assaulted by a small group of hooligans clad in the contents of a child’s dressing up box.

Albeit a child with a swastika obsession. 

That'll be me aged 6 then.

"To me!" "To you!"

Within a matter of minutes they've beaten our dynamic dunces senseless, stolen all the Yorkies from the sweet shop and kidnapped Tom’s sister - wait for it - Hari (Wiedermann, Wiedermann does whatever a Wieder can).

Anyone else would probably be distraught but good old Tom is frankly unaffected by the whole thing and decides, along with Dick to go and pick up a prostitute to drown his sorrows.

By drown his sorrows I obviously mean to have the sex with.

Unfortunately being an evil whore she drugs the duo, chaining Dick up in the shed before delivering Tom to the immortal 'She' (that'll be Bergman then) to use him as she sees fit.

"Are you looking at mah bra?"

Because of (or despite his) lack of manbreast, She dispenses with her usual shag and stab routine deciding instead to submit Tom to the ominously named Path of Blood, a tiny obstacle course built in a child’s sandpit that consists of a series of sharp wooden stakes thru which Tom will be led blindfolded whilst being kicked and fondled by a dozen Granny panted Suzi Quatro lookalikes before being abandoned to die in the wasteland.

Which seems a little extreme but what do I know?

Luckily, for the movie if not for us, the next morning he’s rescued by a token British homosexualist and part time science man named Stony Tark (McLeay) who whisks Tom away to his secret laboratory where he can be told various plot points that may, or may not come in useful later.

You know, important stuff like the fact that his sisters has been grabbed by the Norks (no sniggering) and that the only person that knows the how to get their hands on those pesky Norks (no seriously) is She herself.

And with this Tark promptly disappears from the film, never to be seen again and leaving Tom with no alternative than to rescue his buddy Dick from the hands of the evil hooker and kidnap She in the hope that she'll show them where those infamous Norks hang out.

Seriously you couldn't make this shit up.

Tho' scarily somebody (I'm looking at you Avi Nesher) did just that.

Anyway, making his way back to the village - and wearing a child's army helmet as a disguise - Tom punches out the prostitute (isn’t that extra?) and rescues Dick from a life of pig based humiliation before settling down to plan their next move over a nice cup of tea and a biscuit.

You know the convention was going downhill when drunken ex-weathergirl Ulrika jonsson tried to violate Clash of the Titans star Bubo with a chocolate dildo.

Meanwhile it's the time of the month where She has to endures the gruesome sounding Trial of Blood This involves She dressing up in her best bed-sheet and fighting a variety of wind up robots, Roman Centurions and a Frankenstein monster secreted in huge wooden crates in a cave haphazardly filled with barrels, televisions and old washing machines.

Or as we call it in the UK, West Bromwich.

After a slight and uninspired slow fight the bloodied and battered She ventures deeper underground where she meets an old lady who urges our heroine to strip naked and enjoy a long hot bath in the healing waters of a conveniently placed spring.

As She gently caresses her breasts and ample thighs the old woman mysteriously intones...

“You have passed through the cycle again, Goddess. But the prophecy still stands. A man will come to claim your heart. For him you will break your vow. Through him, you will be destroyed.” 

At this point I really think I should point out that although this scene sounds as tho' it could be really important at some point further in the movie it is, bizarrely never referred to again.

Yup that's right.

At no point does She fall in love or end up destroyed. A wee bit muddy yes but that's about it.

Got that?

Great, now let's move on and catch up with Tom and Dick who succeed in kidnapping She from her bedchamber before riding off into the local play park with a bunch of butch Amazonian warriors, led by She's best pal Shanda (the mighty Kessler, in truth the only real reason for watching) in hot-tish pursuit.

...Inside Dave Lee Travis' mind...

After what seems like hours of galloping and lame wise-cracks inter-cut with random shots of muscly thighed women on horseback our trippy trio come across (you know the drill) a band of mutants wrapped in dirty bandages and all clad in big nappies called the Nukes who, after a wee bit of polite conversation decide to execute the threesome in a handy trash compactor.

Luckily Shanda soon turns up and using a mix of pantomime swordplay and unbridled sex appeal defeats the Nukes before any harm can befall Tom, She or Dick (which in his case in a crying shame).

With She untied and looking as leathery as ever and Tom and Dick surrounded by angry Amazons you'd be forgiven for thinking the quest to save Hari (remember her?) would be over but, oh no, She takes pity on Tom and Dick and helpfully points them in the general direction of Nork Valley before letting them on their way.

Unbeknownst to our plucky pals She has decided - along with sexy Shanda - to follow the  follow the pair from a distant so as to see what wild and wacky adventures they may have.

Shanda: Five fingers, never touched the sides.

Wandering deep into the woodland that conveniently sits opposite the park Tom and Dick discover an idyllic country house occupied by a group of handsome (in an 80's Italian way) young men and big haired women draped around a swimming pool in togas and reciting bad poetry to each other.

Their leader (Italian genre stalwart and ex-Caligula Brandon) upon noticing the newcomers charmingly invites them to join the group for dinner.

And maybe a side order of the sex.

Our heroes, obviously forgetting what happened last time someone offered them a shag excitedly accept the offer and spend the evening stuffing their grubby faces with turkey sandwiches and crisps, dancing badly to cheesy 50's ballads whilst wearing ill fitting tuxedo's.

Just a normal night in Blackpool really.

Your mum and sister at my house last week.

Drunk on Happy Shopper Vino and stuffed full of cake Tom and Dick collapse in a stupor hoping to sleep off the nights excesses but wouldn't you know it, the party revelers are really a tribe of flesh eating werewolves intent on scoffing ours heroes whole.

Although I've heard that they spit that bit out.

Just as all seems lost who should turn up but She and Shanda, annoyed at missing a free meal and ready to kick some hairy arse meaning our fantastic foursome live to ride another day.

Or at the very least get captured by someone else about 10 minutes later.

Probably.

With thank you's (and a few lustful glances 'tween Dick and Shanda) exchanged they soon arrive at a quaint old town, seemingly untouched for years save for all the walls, doors, windows and very slow dogs being covered in some fairly well designed (for a child) retro-communist style posters emblazoned with the word Godan and what looks like a picture of a young Eli Roth complete with glowing green eyes.

"£6.50??!!?? I can almost hire a whore for that much!"

They don't have much time to discuss the merits of feltpen vs. crayon tho' (or even Roth's more recent acting roles) as She and her pals are suddenly captured (surprise!) by a group of elderly monks who take them before the great god Godan (Robotech voice artist Snegoff) himself.

Realizing that Godan is a wee bit of a mentalist, used to getting his own way, full of self importance and with little respect for anything other than his own needs (hang on...are you sure that this isn't Eli Roth?) Tom and Dick quickly pretend to be disciples and are soon re-enacting the rape scene from Aftershock whilst setting fire to each others trousers, totally ignoring the fact that She and Shanda have been dragged off to the dungeon in order to have their sweaty, leather-clad bodies whipped and poked for Godan's amusement.

"Put it in me!"

After enduring, oooh minutes of torture (and chaffing) Godan decides that the best way to interrogate She would be to have her taken to his room and sex the information out of her (what this information is I've still no idea).

Unfortunately (for him) this is the last straw as far as his dedicated priestess Sylvia is concerned, seeing as she's been waiting on him hand and foot for years without even a hint of a penis going her way and she reacts in the way that most women would when spurned by someone who has absolutely no interest in them.

Yup, she buries a large axe into his chest.

Obviously poor Godan wasn't expecting this but manages to summon the last of his supernatural eye powers to strangle Sylvia with a handy curtain cord.

And what pray tell do She, Tom and Dick do during all this?

That's right, they just stand around ineffectually whilst trying to remember if they had anyone else with them.

Or in Bergman's case desperately trying to remember Arnies phone number in the hope that he can pay for her ticket back to the U.S.

Finally remembering that Shanda is still tied up downstairs (as in to a rack in the dungeon, not having trouble with her ovaries), our motley crew quickly untie her and head of deeper into the woods leaving a small group of old men with nothing else to do but stare at each other and wonder where their next meal is coming from now that their leader is dead.

Well, it's good to know that American foreign policy survived the apocalypse even if fashion sense and basic storytelling didn't.

Sandahl farted in the Jacuzzi and it was an eggy one.

With She and Tom enjoying the countryside and Shanda and Dick involved in some playful flirting no-one notices the slightly foul smelling gas emanating from a nearby bush until it's too late. Our heroes are soon overcome by the smell of egg, gravy and shame as a gas mask-clad hulking figure gleefully watches the scene unfold from a safe distance.

Waking with a terrible headache and his trousers on backwards Tom frantically searches for the others soon finding Shanda unconscious on a nearby rock, beads of sweat collecting in her mighty cleavage and glistening like tiny diamonds.

Possibly.

Aroused and ready for action the pair call on their comrades but to no avail.

It's as tho' they've vanished into thin (but still stinky) air.

But we know the truth don't we?

Yes, they've been kidnapped (I know who'd believe it?) again but this time it's by a bearded transvestite giant and a pale-faced old man on his way to a Scarlet Pimpernel party who've decided to put She and Dick in huge plastic bags in order to experiment on them in their greenhouse cum private love nest.

I think.

Not that Tom is too bothered tho' seeing as he's decided to head along to Norksville on his own.

Selfish sod.

On further examination, the Amanda Knox bedspread that Noel Edmond’s purchased from Ebay turned out to be a fake.

Not wanting to dwell on it for too long suffice to say that yet another oh so daring and improbable escape (this time involving a gas fire and a rope) ensues that reunites our remaining heroes outside a burning shed.

But not for long because although the land of the Norks is within sight Shanda, obviously bored of the by now frankly ludicrous script and missing the feeling of a big powerful animal between her thighs volunteers to head back home (alongside the trannie for reasons best known to herself) to get reinforcements or something leaving She and Dick to go it alone.

The Jimmy Savile/Kurt Russell cloning experiment was more successful than even William Roache could imagine.

 By this time Tom has reached the Nork fortress, all he has to do now is cross the bridge that leads over a dangerous minefield and knock on the front door.

Easy eh?

Well it would be if the bridge weren't guarded by the mighty Xenon (America's top comic Traylor), a frighteningly jumpsuited genetic mix of Michael Barrymore, Snake Plissken, Des Lynam and a caffeine addicted paedophile. 

And that's before he opens his mouth.

His secret weapon?

Following whoever attempts to cross the bridge whilst doing bad impressions of  Groucho Marx, the Cowardly Lion and James Cagney.

Despicable.

Tom being a man of few words and even less patience reacts in the only way he knows, yes attacks him with a sword, chopping off his arms and legs.

Which would be fine if the severed parts didn't grow into more versions of Xenon.

Before long there's a whole army of irritating impressions following the poor sod to Norksville.

"Hey big fella how'd you fancy a wee bit of mooth shite-in?"

 Scratching his head with the swords blunt end Tom has no idea what to do next, so it's lucky for him that She and Dick soon arrive, cutting thru' the creepy comedians and tossing them into the minefield before they can regenerate.

And with that problem out of the way all that's left to do is sneak into the Nork city, win Lord Norks trust and rescue Hari.

But how are they supposed to enter the city unmolested?

Just then She notices a poster flapping in the wind.

It appears that Lord Nork is having a competition to find the best fighter in the world and the winner gets to meet him and his new priestess Hari.

And guess what?

The competition starts today!

Ladies and gentlemen....Destiny's Child!

 

It's three against an army as Tom, Dick and She prepare to battle the odds and rescue Hari from a fate worse than death.

Or at the very least from having to marry a man who insists on dressing in tinfoil with a lampshade for a hat to stop him getting infected by radiation.

Tho' compared to actually sitting thru' this shite that seems like a more humane option.

From the undoubtedly twisted (re: drug addled possibly) mind of "one of Israel's all-time greatest filmmakers" (he's won awards and everything) via the pen of  H. Rider Haggard (creator of Allan Quatermain and arguably the whole 'lost world' genre), She is a 90 minute threadbare freak show of half arsed awfulness that plays out like a series of rambling comedy sketches written for a rejected  Benny Hill Mad Max parody by Barry Cryer after being forced to ingest meth and children's tears whilst listening To Rick Wakeman's The Burning score on a warped cassette.

And that's just the pre-credit sequence.

With it's swastika clad villains, sexy Jewish girls kicking arse and it's lead characters habit of just strolling in and taking land that doesn't belong to her the movie is obviously some kind of Mossad sponsored mind control project aimed at doing something to somebody (I'm sorry but conspiracy type stuff just isn't my strong point) add to this the fact that America co-funded the movie only adds to the theory.

I mean come on, if any other country had produced a toxic shite of this magnitude Uncle Sam would have declared war on them within minutes.

 Sandahl Bergman: Cheaper than your mum, dirtier than your gran and considerably older than both of them.

After completing the movie, director Avi Nesher was flown out of Italy under cover of night back to Israel to continue his career as a 'serious' film maker, a career that bizarrely continues today, his last film The Wonders, his third with actor Adir Miller opened to critical and financial success becoming one of the biggest hits of 2013.

True it was shot entirely in Hebrew and only shown in Israel but it still made more money than the last movie I worked on so who am I to judge?

Director Nesher is sneaked out of Italy after death threats from livid Ursula Andress fans.

Of the rest of the cast only a few survived a massive cull by secret service agents in the months after the film was released. It appeared that someone didn't want the movies secrets made public.

Luckily Bergman used the influence of her friend the former governor of California Arnold Schwarzenegger (with whom she shared the actors first ever love scene) to defy the many attempts on her life whilst co-star David Traylor wasn't so lucky.

Nice flat tummy, face of fuckness.

After a booby trapped canned laughter machine exploded during a sold out show at the Detroit comedy store showering the actor with sharpened giggles Traylor was left paralysed.

It was only thanks to a mysterious benefactor (said to be one of the films composers Justin Hayward) that Traylor was inducted into the top secret and highly experimental Robo-comic programme, emerging some years later as Mr. ZED the Robot Comedian whose first appearance in the UK was strangely enough alongside Jim Davidson, who it was once rumoured had once worked undercover in Palestine for MI6.

A rarely seen pic of a post movie, pre surgery Traylor, here being looked after by comedian cum scientist Kelly Monteith.

But all that is for the history books and whilst today we may have peace in the middle east unrest and terrorism have raised the ugly heads elsewhere in the world. So who knows? perhaps it's time for the erstwhile Mr. Nesher to revisit 'She Who Must Be Obeyed' to give hope to a new generation.

Plus I'm sure Elizabeth Berkley would be grateful of the work right now.