body rock.

Just a quickie today as I was all set to review Murder Rock then realised I'd done that a few months back.

Enjoy.

Aerobicide (AKA Killer Workout, 1986).
dir: David A Prior.
Cast: Marcia Karr, David James Campbell, Fritz Matthews, Ted Prior, Teresa Van Der Woude and Teresa Truesdale.

"Just relax, I'm not some crazy killer."

Horse of face and pube of perm 'fashion' model Valerie (Karr from Real Genius, Savage Streets, Maniac Cop and latterly your local chippie) is excited to discover she's been chosen as the cover star of the new issue of Love it! Magazine (or something) to illustrate a story about infanticide or genital warts (don't have the issue to hand, sorry) and, eager to be at her most orange for the photo shoot heads off to the local gym to use the sun bed.

Unfortunately a freak accident means the machine cooks Valerie so they have to go with a I murdered my kids for talking during I'm A Celebrity/Jordan: my tits make my back ache cover instead.

Which is a shame really as the original idea would have probably gotten them some new - non granny based violence obsessed - readers.

Love it!

With the backstory out of the way we (as in the viewer) jump forward several years - and a dozen crimes against fashion - later and find ourselves (via the medium of film, not in reality obviously) in the middle of a funky Hi-Energy workout complete with dodgy 80's synth pop, crack splitting leotards and over ripe bouncy breasts where the sexily strict gym manager - and Crispy Valerie's twin sister - Rhonda (Karr again) runs the classes with a rod of iron, saving the worst of her venom for the sassy  Jaimy (Woude, star of Night Visitor) and local chubster Jimmy (mightily mulleted Matthews from Deadly Prey and The Devil's Rain) because, um, reasons.

No need.

Luckily for the viewer these soap opera shenanigans are quickly put on hold when keep fit enthusiast Rachel (queen of the walk on Truesdale) is stabbed in the showers by a nutter wielding a giant safety pin.

No, really.

Which is annoying for Jaimy whose (sweaty) jockstrap stealing antics are cruelly curtailed when Rachel's bloodied corpse falls out of a locker on top of her.

Enter (not literally mind) the Caramel faced Lieutenant Morgan (blond bruiser Campbell) who's brought in to investigate the murder and add some much needed testosterone to the proceedings.

Knife to see you, to see you, knife.

Whilst Morgan is roughing up the clientèle, Rhonda is surprised to find a strange man named Chuck (Ted - slightly less ugly brother of the director - Prior) ransacking her office.

Tho' not her orifices, obviously.

It appears her business partner has hired Chuck to, um, do stuff.

Oh and to have a vaguely homo-erotic fight with Jimmy in the car park.

Excitedly watching from the sidelines is Jimmy's ex girlfriend (whose name escapes me) who, overcome with lust for Chuck invites him back to her apartment for a quick shag and a biscuit.

As is the norm, the post sex chat quickly comes (tho' not as quick as Chuck) around to her ex, who it appears she dumped because he liked to 'tie girls up and stuff' making him the number one suspect for Rachel's murder.

I know, I can't figure that one out either.

Anyway, Chuck is too interested in watching the ladies ample breasts bob up and down in a slightly hypnotic way to really take anything in tho'.

As was I if I'm honest.

Juliet Bravo!

Luckily I snapped back to reality in time to see the local bad boys spraying death spa all over the gym's walls before being dispatched by the unseen killer.

Why?

Didn't he like the font they used?

Morgan appears to be as much use as a chocolate starfish as more and more supple, toned (dead) bodies turn up forcing him to run around accusing everyone of being the killer whilst Rhonda sticks her chest out and glares at the rest of the cast.

Bizarrely enough the small matter of the killings doesn't seem to have bothered the local fitness freaks at all, seeing as the gym seems busier than ever.

And if that isn't a metaphor for Brexit I don't know what is.

Same shit, different smell.

So, who is the workout obsessed killer?

Will anyone tell Rhonda that her bra is about three sizes too small?

And will Jimmy win back the heart (and not to mention huge breasts) of his ex?

To be honest, there aren't enough hours in the day to care really.

Every need yet no need at the same time.

The horror equivalent of itchy anal warts, Aerobicide takes your basic slasher plot, gets it drunk on cheap lager in a sleazy night club and buys it a kebab before roughly buggering it in the cab on the way home then kicking it out of the backdoor onto a dirty piece of wasteland half naked and bleeding.

Director Prior (he of, oh fuck it I can't be bothered listing the unadulterated shite he's been involved in, just look him up) takes a surprisingly competent cast and forces them to stand around in vomit inducing luminous 80's dance fashions whilst spouting whatever inane sentences just happen to come into their heads.

And my word what heads the cast have.

There are mullets, poodle perms and giant blonde barnets that look like they'd snap if tugged too hard, it's painfully obvious to anyone watching that the ozone hole is all the fault of this movie.

But all that fades when compared to the outfits paraded on screen - day-glo vests, spandex snatch splitters, shiny leotards and leg warmers are the order of the day whilst the electropap score kills any chance of suspense before it can rear it's head.

Bloody abysmal.

And I love it.

Tomorrow, something good.

smash it up.

It's that time of the year again where I put together - with very little effort - as series of ever more banal reviews under the 31 Days of Horror label in a countdown to Halloween which has less to do with championing the horror genre and more to do with me trying to entice more (any?) readers to this pitiful excuse for a blog.

Raiders of the Damned (2007)
Dir: Milko Davis.
Cast: Richard Grieco, Gary Sirchia, Laura Zoe Quist, Elijah Murphy, Thomas Martwick, Laura Clemens, Amanda Scheutzow and J.C. Austin.

"Eye son".

It's the end of the world as we know it (and I feel Ralph Fiennes) and a shedload of nasty nuclear weapons have put paid to most of humanity, save for ex Teen Agent Richard (my illustrious career) Grieco, a handful of straight to video ne'er-do-wells and bizarrely an actress who actually reads this blog*.

No, seriously.

But if that wasn't enough a particularly virulent man-made virus called Agent 9-X has turned a huge number of the survivors into pasty faced zombies.

Isn't that always the way?

Luckily for us 'norms' the zombie hordes are all stuck behind a huge wall in a designated quarantine zone where they can't get up to any mischief.

Or can they?

Grieco: For the ladies.

Well surprisingly everyone - and everything - seems to be coasting along OK in this post weary, apocalyptic world until one day the brainy boffin Dr. Wells (We Do Monsters: Nemesis Von Smith star Murphy) - whilst on a top secret mission to drop bags of soot on the undead - is shot down behind enemy lines by a chino wearing, skull-faced zombie wielding a rocket powered crossbow.

No, seriously.

This is particularly bad news for the rag tag group of survivor at the nearby military base as they desperately need to have a wee chat with Dr. Wells seeing as he's the only scientist with any chance of discovering a cure for this zombie plague.

Plus they'd baked a cake especially for his visit.

But ain't that always the way in these movies?

Anyway back at the proper - zombie based - plot and things have gone from bad to really bad for the good doctor and his lovely assistant Stephanie (Scheutzow...bless you) for no sooner have they stumbled drunkenly from the helicopters wreckage - or at the very least a pretty good cardboard approximation of one - than the pair find themselves face to putrefying face with the evil zombie madman behind the attack, enter (roughly and from behind) Colonel Kevin Crow (Martwick, latterly co-director of the classics Jurassic Thunder, The Jurassic Dead and the terrifying Tsunambee) who drags them back to his secret fortress for tea, biscuits and an explanation of his evil plans.

You see, it seems that the Colonel hasn't let a little thing like death put paid to his military career and he's spent the last several years training the local undead in the art of warfare and beret wearing and now plans to breach the walls of the survivors complex in order to wipe them all out.

But not before he tries his undead seduction techniques on poor old Stephanie tho'.

Cue 10 minutes of rubbery face zombie sex style shenanigans.

You're welcome.

Do you think he ate her whole?

Meanwhile back at human central, mad as a lorry scientist Lewis (the poor man's Lou Diamond Phillips, Grieco) reckons that the infamously wayward rebel marine captain and former comrade of Crow, Dewey Crenshaw (Sirchia, looking for all the world like a camper Barry Bostwick if that's at all possible) is the only man who can rescue Wells and sexy Steph.

The only problem is that he's in prison for 'war crimes' and will only take on the mission if he can choose his own team.

No surprise then that everyone agrees to his terms, so without so much as a change of pants, Crenshaw gathers together a group of his pals (including the oh so cutesome Quist and some other, less attractive folk) to head over the wall, rescue the scientist and his by now, zombie cock obsessed assistant and, just because it'll be convenient whilst they're there, shoot Crow in the face before he shags anyone else.

The incredibly sexy and talented Quist is by
far the best thing in this movie.

Little do they know tho' that Crow is almost ready to march on the remnants of humanity and finish the war once and for all.

And there's the little matter of a spare dimensional portal knocking about (that by the way is the mcguffin he's planning to steal and use to breach the survivors defenses with because obviously a ladder or tunnel would be too easy)  that needs dealing with too.

Oh, and as an aside I should mention that after his stinky shag earlier, Crow is permanently stiff in more ways than one** and is super horny for more hot (by hot I mean breathing) ladies to impregnate with his evil zombie sperm.

No doubt he'll want revenge on Crenshaw too.

Or have sex with him.

So as the film lurches toward its climax he's either gonna be dead busy, or the movie is gonna get really confusing causing the viewer to lose interest and pop Army of Darkness on instead.

"Did you get me a Drifter?"

Mighty Milko Davis, the man responsible the terrifying special effects in the Seduction Cinema classic Dracula's Dirty Daughter, as well as the voice of The Carnivore in that hilarious SciFi comedy Star Warp'd makes his directorial debut with this haphazard riff on Mad Max and Escape from New York via big George Romero's entire zombie back catalogue with a plot so surprisingly packed with ideas and twists that it's like watching about a dozen movies rolled into one.

Pity none of them are that good tho'.

"This is my hand, no this is your hand!"

Saying that, the cast do their best to rise above the mish-mash of concepts on show, especially the fantastic Quist (meow) and the b-movie god that is Grieco, proving once and for all that his alimony bill must be huge.

And it's great to finally see a tasteful zombie sex scene.

It's no Nightmare City, but then again what is? Tho' it is about a thousand times more entertaining than The Walking Dead.

And if that isn't damning with faint praise I don't know what is.

Tomorrow - something better.

I promise.


















































*True story bro, as our American cousins say.

**As in he has an erect penis that he wants to put in a ladies vagina.

get me to the greek.

Imagine this - Laura Gemser in a rude film NOT 'directed' by Joe D'Amato but still playing the role she became famous (sort of) for.

So how does Ilias Mylonakos' vision compare to that of the god-like D'Amato?

You'll have to read on to find out cos I'm not spilling the beans (or owt else) just yet, so let's begin with a quick synopsis.

Surprisingly there is a plot and this time it focuses on revenge and murder as well as 70's breasts and hairy arses so it's all good.



Emanuelle’s Daughter Queen of Sados (AKA Black Emmanouella, Emanuelle the Seductress, Emanuelle's Daughter, Emanuelle: Queen Bitch, Emanuelle: Queen of Sados, 1979).
Dir: Ilias Mylonakos (Yup,THE Ilias Mylonakos you lucky people!)
Cast: Laura Gemser, Pantelis Agelopou, Haris Tryfonas, Gabriele Tinti, Vagelis Vartan, Nadia Neri, Livia Russo and Gordon Mitchell.

...and suffering from leg
cramp by the look of it.

Gladys Emanuelle (dusky beauty and your dads first Nat West, the goddess  that is Ms Gemser) hires a hit-man to kill her abusive (and incredibly kinky) husband, the devil bearded and mightily man-titted Victor who unbeknown to his business partners, Robert and Ilona, has subjected our heroine to years of abuse, weird sexual rituals and rough bum love.

Even on Sundays.

Trying everything from putting bromide in his tea to ringing Judge Rinder, Emanuelle has no other option than to hire the mysterious hitman Mario (Tryfonas AKA Harris Stevens AKA my real dad sporting the biggest - and brightest - pair of polyester flares ever committed to celluloid) to take him out for the agreed price of £37.80 and a quick shag.

Bargain.

"Suckle mah man tits!"

Mario comes thru' and kills the dirty blighter in a plane crash meaning that our olive skinned superbabe inherits not only his successful orange growing empire and high waist trouser collection but also gains custody of his virginal teenage daughter Livia (dirty bird Russo).

Emanuelle finally free from all this death, dodgy deals and sordid sex sees her new found freedom as a great opportunity to not only have some mother/stepdaughter bonding time but also a good excuse to get away from all suspicious coppers skulking about her house, so to this end decides to book the pair on a package holiday to Greece.

What?

Has she not seen Island of Death?

Your mum licking piss off John Nettles yesterday.

Unfortunately - for them that is, for the entertainment of the viewer this man is a godsend-  sleazy sex god Mario is in hot pursuit.

It would appear that the hunky hitman has begun to feel that his big wad (of cash) wasn't in fact big enough.

He wants more.

Much more.

And not just money.

You see, he's taken a shine to young Livia's for one thing.

The filthy rotter.

"Ooh Vic...I've fallen".

Turning up at the depressingly off season holiday camp with some tacky gifts in tow (an arse plug for mum and a bag of sweets for the wean) Mario soon ingratiates himself with the normally shy Livia, much to her stepmum's disgust.

And as Gemser enthusiasts know, if she's disgusted then it must be really bad.

Turns out tho' that the swarthy, handbagged faced lothario is actually enjoying the awkwardness of the whole situation, lifting Livia onto his lap at every opportunity and rubbing coconut oil into her smooth, milky virgin flesh with his big sweaty sausage fingers at a moments notice before finally inviting her swimming at a local secluded beach.

Emanuelle is raging which means that she storms out of the chalet looking for someone to stick it in her.

Obviously.

"Wahey Janet! I'm spunking buckets!" cried Peter Duncan as he announced the Blue Peter appeal total.

Luckily for all involved, whilst at the beach Livia ends up getting chatting with a geeky bowl haired local guy named Aubrey (Vartan), who although blessed with having a face like a wart riddled testicle is at least her own age* which is nice.

Staying out way past her bedtime in order to catch Aubrey's fantastic display of table top disco-dancing (to the Village People's “YMCA” - unfortunately overdubbed with mind numbing bouzouki music on the DVD release) in the nite spot from Bloody Moon, Livia's romantic night comes to an end with her bashful beau walking her home along the sands before stealing a goodnight kiss.

But unbeknown to the young lovers Mario is watching from behind a bush, angrily masturbating as he stares silently at her - admittedly - peachy arse as it jiggles in the moonlight.

But if that wasn't enough, lurking behind a slightly bigger bush further up the beach are Robert and Ilona, trying to uncover the truth behind Victor's death while also planning to get Livia to side with them.

All this because it appears that she's the true heir to her late father's fortune.

And you thought it was all about the shagging.

Anyway, back to the, ahem, plot.

Whilst all this sinister subterfuge is going on, Emanuelle decides the best course of action is to meet up with Robert to clear the air before indulging in a wee bit of bollock tickling (watch him sweat! Touch his warts!) before arguing about orange growing with a stubborn factory foreman (see him growl!) and finally going shopping for pants.

Edible ones of course.

If you sit close enough to the
screen you can smell the yeast.

Feeling a wee bit left out at this point, Mario (in between staring at Livia whilst licking his lips and wearing bri-nylon swimming trucks) has been spending his time shagging every woman with a pulse on the island.

This includes a naked-cooking fetishist he met on the flight out and Emanuelle's wonky faced, cod eyed and bulldog faced 'assistant' Fiona.

Obviously having some taste and a slight grasp of foreplay techniques, he began this sordid little liaison by first forcing her head down a toilet (no doubt in an attempt to straighten it up or at the very least wipe off some of the industrial make-up she was caked in) before cheekily forcing it up her (massive doughnut like) shitter.

And they say chivalry's dead.

Feeling on a roll (and after first wiping his shit encrusted cock on the squinty woman's curtains) Mario heads down to the beach and after a half-hearted attempt to generate some tension with a chase, he finally catches up with Livia and tosses her into a muddy puddle before stripping her naked and violently breaking down the gates to her lady garden and putting it in her.

The swine.

"Nah....still squint".

Will Emanuelle get her revenge on Mario?

Will Livia survive the dirty puddle or ever walk again?

Will our heroines new technique for battery farming oranges prove a success?

Frankly, who cares.

Not me that's for sure.

Font.

With Queen of Sados, director Mylonakos manages the impossible by making a low budget Laura Gemser skin-flick that scarily induces bouts of boredom and apathetic yawns from it's audience as opposed to the normal reaction of involuntarily releasing torrents of cum and tears.

Clumsily acted, plotted and directed it's about as erotic as a swingers party in an old peoples home and twice as leathery, featuring a cast of has beens and never wills including art house lunk Gordon (Fellini's Satyricon) Mitchell and the never seen again (outside Childline ads) Livia Russo.

I mean honestly, you know it's bad when Gemser's real life beau Gabriele (Bava's Lisa And The Devil) Tinti even looks bored when shagging his missis on film.

At least  Haris Tryfonas (and his cock) seem to be enjoying themselves tho'.

But unfortunately unlike Tryfonas and his overworked penis the story is reed thin and the characters seldom rise (snigger) above the lightweight plot, many of them coming and going throughout the movie with no other motivation than to stick something in somebody or get something put in them.

Livia Russo: I guess it's OK now seeing as she's probably old enough to be your mum. Or dead.

Lacklustre, insipid and uninspired, the only things in it's favour is the movies historic importance as one of the first films made to cash in on the success of Bitto Albertini's Black Emanuelle series (a series that grew from strength to strength under the milky eyes of Joe D'Amato and Bruno Mattei, taking in cannibals and horses along the way) and the fact that it's marginally more watchable than Mylonakos' other foray in the series, the frankly mad as pants Divine Emanuelle (AKA Love Camp) with it's free love cult and floating overdubbed Gemser.

Oh yes, and it does give us a chance to admire Haris Tryfonas fantastic collection of 70's fashions, from garishly vomit inducing leisure wear to tiny penis bothering Speedo's.

Still doesn't stop it from being half cocked and rubbish tho'.

A bit like your dad.







































* Which according to various sources was about 14 at the time of shooting which doesn't make the beach front sex scene a wee bit uncomfortable to watch at all, no sir.

horrorday on the buses

With the girls off on holiday this week it's left to me and the boy child to amuse ourselves so seeing as they've gone by coach I thought I'd show him what they can expect by re-watching this beauty.

Yup it's the frankly fangtastic (sorry couldn't resist) La Orgia Nocturna de los Vampiros.

As an aside did you know that for years I'd had to put up with watching a horribly chewed VHS copy of the movie seeing as no-one could be arsed giving it a proper DVD release.

Until about two years ago when whilst out shopping for pants  I found this little beauty lurking on a shelf just behind a copy of Night Train Murders.

And for only 3 quid too.

Bargain.

Trackings dodgy mate!

Well it would have been had, upon watching, it'd not become obvious that Fusion Media Sales had in fact broken into my house and just transferred my copy onto disc.

Via an old sock.

It's even got chews on it.

It's still bloody brilliant tho'.

Even the academic types think so seeing as someone actually delivered a paper on it at a conference a few years back.

I know.

I was there.

And I'd traveled by coach too.

Spooky.

La Orgia Nocturna de los Vampiros (AKA The Vampires Night Orgy. 1973) 
Dir: Leòn Klimovsky.
Cast: Jack Taylor, Dianik Zurakowska, Charo Soriano, Helga Liné, José Guardiola, Manuel de Blas, David Aller, Indio González, Luis Ciges, Antonio Páramo, María Vidal, Sandalio Hernández, Fernando Bilbao, Alfonso de la Vega, Rafael Albaicín, Reg Varney, Fernando E. Romero and Sarita Gil.

”The Countess says you can continue your work, with one arm!”

It's a sunny day in seventies Spain, Stan Butler anxious to get away from Blakey's constant complaining has decided to get a summer job driving a motley band of agency employees to their new jobs at a huge country estate and hopefully pull some dolly birds along the way.

Unfortunately whilst still 110 km from their destination, Stan suffers a massive heart attack and without his buck toothed pal Jack to perform a complicated heart massage procedure dies.

"Ere Jack...I can't feel my fingers!"

Luckily the passengers manage to stop the bus before anyone else is killed, regaining their composure and calling a meeting over what action to take.

Ferret-like gardener Terry Godo (former governor of Santander, Ciges) volunteers to take little Violet Smallgirl (Gil, later to grace our screens in the fantastic Esposa y amante) off the bus (as opposed to up the casino) whilst the rest of the passengers hurriedly carry poor Stan to the back seats before draping a dirty blanket over him.

Oh the indignity of it all.

Whilst all this stiff shuffling is going down Violet heads off to explore the local rocks where she bumps into a bowl haired, snub nosed little boy named Jeremy (star of Profesor Eróticus and director of Dawn of The Dead Romero) who invites her to play with him in the nearby quarry.

Until he gets bored and vanishes into thin air that is.

Some scary titles yesterday.

After much discussion and flailing of arms the passengers decide to head to the nearby village of Tolnio in order to find food and more importantly dispose of Stan seeing as the Brylcreem from his quiff is now dripping down the seats and staining the floors.

On arrival tho' our reluctant travelers realize that the entire place is empty, save for internationally renowned brush salesman Luis (Taylor from Polanski's The Ninth Gate), who instantly takes a liking to the harsh faced yet pleasantly breasted Alma (Scrabble scoring Zurakowska, star of such quality fare as Dracula, the Terror of the Living Dead....yes I know it's bizarre but these folk did indeed go on to have careers).

Helping themselves to the local hotels supply of crisps and booze it's not long before everyone is passed out, either draped across chairs in the bar or sprawled across the beds in one of the rooms.

Brits abroad eh?

Although to be honest they're not Brits they're Spanish.

And in Spain.

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

Let's just forget about it and move on.

Thanks.

Anyway back to the action where lecherous Luis has discovered that not only his is room right next to Alma's but there's a spy hole in the wall giving him (and us) ample opportunity to ogle her frighteningly conical breasts.

Ding dong.

Not everyone of the bus is a sex pest tho', there are a couple of honest-to-goodness alcoholics too, including the pie-eyed plumbers mate Ernesto (former Looney Tunes star Gonzálezis) who is too preoccupied with finding more booze to think about sleeping (or shagging) and wanders off into the village in the hope of finding an off-licence or 24 hour garage.

Imagine his surprise then when instead he finds every resident of the village having a party in the local graveyard.

And if that wasn't enough to tingle your spine imagine his reaction when he discovers that they're all vampires.

Now how's he gonna explain that to my nan?

"Hello there hen....fancy a wee bit o' mooth shite-in?"

Next morning and our heroes are woken by the shock haired local mayor, Boris Van Johnson (Guardiola), who helpfully explains the village's earlier emptiness was due to them all attending the town librarians funeral but not to worry because they're all welcome for as long as they wish to stay and that their bills will all be paid for by the Countess (the utterly gorgeous Liné from the classic Las garras de Lorelei) who lives in a house, a very big house overlooking Tolnio.

No, nothing sinister here at all then.

But for the mayor there are more important things to worry about, like what to feed everyone with seeing as the whole village appears to be devoid of shops.

"Can we fix it? No it's fucked!"

Turns out that he actually has a plan for such an occurrence (can you imagine the town meeting? "First order of the day, what to do if a bus  load of non vampire tourists turn up unannounced")  and soon has the town giant (Drácula contra Frankenstein star and uncle of Frodo, Bilbao) chopping off various bits of townsfolk to serve to the travelers.

Which is kinda sweet if you think about it.

But let's not forget that this is a horror movie not some feel good community caper so to add an air of uncomfortable menace to the proceedings (that doesn't involve Bri-Nylon slacks) who should reappear unannounced - and without having a wash the stinking bastard - why only Ernesto, all grey-faced, poo stained and scabby necked.

Exactly like your dad after his works Christmas party.

And his excuse for staying out all night?

Well according to it he's been busy burying Stan, tho' his pal Marcos Tandy (Paranormal Xperience 3D's de Blas) jokingly reckons from the size of his stomach he's probably eaten him.

If only he knew eh?

Invited to dine with the Countess our merry band enjoy a polite evening of stilted chat, sloppy dubbing and vaguely human shaped meat until the clock chimes midnight when she bids them farewell.

All that is except wannabe actor and stud for hire Cesar (Aller from Krakatoa: East of Java, the film not the place ) who after shoddily reciting a wee bit of Shakespeare gets to shake his own spear in the Countess' bed.

By that I mean they indulged in the sex.

Rather than a post-coital cuddle and a fag tho' the Countess leaps on the poor fella, biting his neck before tossing him out of the window to the awaiting mass of hungry villagers below.

Usually when that's happened to me I just get given a false telephone number.

"Is it in yet?"

As day makes way to night, more and more of the travelers succumb to the villagers vile curse and with Luis no longer content to just crack one off whilst spying on Alma undressing, our peephole pal must find a means of escape for him and his squeeze to be...

Will they fix the car and escape?

Will the hotel ever replenish it's stock of pork scratchings?

Will Luis get his end away or be cursed to a life of furtive masturbation at bus stops?

And what is the secret ingredient of Boris' ‘special drink’?

Well I'm not telling.

Whoever designed this cover, I hope your parents are proud.

From the late, great Leon Klimovsky, the man behind the Paul Naschy starrers The Werewolf Vs. Vampire Woman and Dr. Jekyll Vs. The Werewolf comes this frankly bonkers tale of fangs, fiends and migrant workers that plays out like Carry On Abroad as envisaged by Jean Rollin.

There may not be any actual night orgies and only one true vampire but when a movie features so many close-ups of slobbering gypsy mouths, crooked European teeth and unkempt seventies bush as this you really can't complain.

Well obviously you could but I for one would ignore you.

And so what if the plots been done to death a thousand times before by the likes of 2000 Maniacs and The Grapes Of Death, it's rarely done with so much flair and grace by a cast that scarily decides to play the whole thing totally straight.

And I for one are grateful.

Plus it features Helga Liné in a set of comedy pound shop vampire teeth and a chiffon nightie, take from that what you will.

Hook, Liné and tinker.

A masterpiece of holiday horror from start to finish, like Withnail And I stumbling drunkenly into the plot of I Am Legend, La Orgia Nocturna de los Vampiros should be on the top of every bodies top ten Spanish Vampire films set in towns and featuring trapped bus passengers lists.


Well it is in mine.

For a film that cost tuppence to make  the locations are surprisingly creepy, the luscious ladies are perfect Euro-vamps personified and the script is just the right side of dream-like, never wandering into the 'dubbed into incomprehensibility' badlands that many lo-fi Euroshockers end up in.

Glorious.

Unlike the DVD transfer.

bits n bobs.

Ended up watching this as part of our Friday Night FaceBook along (tho' we watched it on a Sunday for added shits and giggles) and had actually forgotten how utterly fantastic/shite it is.

Well that was worth typing.

Pieces (AKA Mil Gritos Tiene La Noche, 1982).
Dir: Juan Piquer 'Simon'.
Cast: Christopher George, Linda Day George, Frank Braña, Paul L. Smith, Edmund Purdom, Ian Sera, Jack Taylor, Isabelle Luque, Gérard Tichy, Hilda Fuchs, May Heatherly, Alejandro Hernández, Roxana Nieto, Cristina Cottrelli, Leticia Marfil, Silvia Gambino, Carmen Aguado and Paco Alvez.

Now look, professor, I don’t want to wait for the coroner’s opinion, so can you give me yours? Could this killing have been done with a chainsaw like that one over there?

Our story opens in the year 1942 in a house somewhere in sunny Boston where the 10-year-old tank top sporting Timmy (Hernández, who scarily enough actually went on to have some sort of career outside homemade gay porn) is busying himself with a jigsaw puzzle of a nude lady.

A nude lady with a very noticeable 1970s style bush and Farrah-like flicked haircut.

Who knew that Bostonians were such trendsetters?

But obviously this childish fun can't last and when his mum (Heatherly, best know for playing a nurse in Cannibal Apocalypse) walks in and catches him in the act our poor pre-teen chum has no alternative but to bludgeon her (to death) with a handy axe before sawing up her body with a handy hacksaw of the kind we all kept in our bedroom as boys.

Just me then?

Worried when her sister doesn't meet up for bingo night, Timmy's aunt arrives at the house with the police (bizarrely it seems portrayed by the Super Mario Brothers) in tow to discover Timmy cowering in a cupboard and his mums remains scattered and smeared around the room.

Not wanting to get in trouble Timmy blurts out that a "bad boy done it and ran away!" before crying into his aunts dress.

Bless.

Surprisingly for a horror movie, the police believe him and pack the boy off  to live with his aunt whilst arresting the first black guy/Hispanic/illegal for the crime.

The end.

Put it in me!

Not really - which is a pity - instead we jump forward forty years to find a black-clad figure furtively opening an old crisp box containing not only Timmy's mum's blood stain dress (alongside a handy photograph of her wearing it) but also the unfinished (still? really? after 40 years? I mean it's not like it's one of those 2000 piece jobs with a picture of baked beans on it) jigsaw puzzle.

There's little chance to ponder the meaning of such things tho' as we're soon away across town as the camera perversely focuses on Roxana Nieto's - albeit - peachy arse and smooth milky thighs as she lies - oh so naturally - on the grass outside the university busily studying for her quantum mechanics cum brain surgery exam.

Somewhere to park your bike.

Being a loosely plotted exploitation piece more interested in blood and boobs than anything remotely resembling a plot she's swiftly decapitated with a chainsaw by an shadowy figure clad in a large hat and welding goggles who escapes into the bushes with her head just as the hunky Lt. Brick Bracken (George from City of The Living Dead and your mum's dreams) and his partner Sgt. Randy Holden (Braña from The Story of O 2 - as in the sequel to The Story of O not a documentary about the phone company) arrive to investigate a complaint from an old lady about the noise.

And again, just because.

Finding no sign of any witnesses or any clues as to why someone would want to steal a teenagers head the pair head along to see the college's Dean, Axel Foley (Purdom who appeared to be in every low budget movie made between about 1950 and 1989) to see if he has any clue as to why the girl was targeted.

Remembering that she had a fairly pert arse he sends them off to chat with the college's anatomy lecturer, former pop star - and part-time student shagger - the sinister Professor Arthur Brown (genre stalwart Taylor), who upon denying any knowledge - carnal or otherwise - of the girl tries to make it up to them by giving them a guided tour of the campus and a chance to meet the students who will become the various victims of the killer as the story progresses.

Which I must admit is quite useful.

But unbeknown to our cool cop heroes, as all this chat is going down the college groundskeeper, Willie (Smith, from Popeye and Dune) is watching with a mad glint in his eye as he busies himself trimming some bush.

With a chainsaw.

A chainsaw that looks awfully similar to the killer's.

Hmmm.

Sorry - I have my woman's period.

But we can't be spending too much time with sinister chainsaw wielding weirdos as we have to get back to those pesky sex obsessed students, especially the boss-eyed 'Danny' Kendall James (actor and producer Sera, best known for Extra Terrestrial Visitors and Marine Issue - no me neither) who has just received a note from the blonde bombshell - OK bombsite - Jenny (Former Ms Spain 1981 Cottrelli) asking him to meet her in the swimming pool for some of 'the sex'.

Unfortunately the killer comes across the note and arrives first, sticking something far sharper - and bigger - into Jenny before chainsawing her into tiny pieces and stealing her torso.

But not the film Torso which is unfortunate as they may have watched it and learned at least how to light stuff properly if nothing else.

And if that wasn't enough poor Willie, who just happens to be passing by, and - after a really shit slow fight that wouldn't even have passed muster in Blake's 7 - is arrested.

But the real victim in all this is poor Kendall who is fairly upset and not getting laid, so Lt. Brack - being a nice guy - sends him off to see Dr. Kat Jennings (Tichy, look him up yourself if you're that bothered cos I'm not) to talk about stuff and hopefully get an idea of who is responsible for all those bad murders and maybe, just maybe do a wee bit of investigating for them himself.

Which seems a wee bit of an odd way to investigate a crime but what do I know.

To help him in his investigation Kendall is teamed up with undercover cop extraordinaire plus former tennis player Mary Riggs (George, wife of the other George and mother of Boy George) who will be posing as a tennis instructor at the college with Kendall working as her ball boy.

Which is quite lucky as that night she's attacked by a tiny Chinese man as she walks home and it's Kendall who comes to her rescue.

As opposed to over her arse obviously.

Fear not tho' as it wasn't the killer but just the local Kung Fu instructor who is suffering from hallucinations after eating a dodgy chop suey.

No, really.

That's not the only trouble brewing because wouldn't you know it, an evil faced reporter, Sylvia Costa (Luque) has also arrived on campus and is determined to solve the case herself even if it puts everyone else in danger.

"IT'S CCCCHHHHHRRRRIIISSSSTTTMMMAAASSS!"

Luckily for us but not for the females on campus she's really shite at her job so the killer gets ample opportunity to carry on his murder spree, taking out a disco dancing dollybird before stabbing Sylvia to death on a handy (or should that be wobbly?) waterbed that they keep in the basement.

On a roll now (and knowing the film is nearing its climax) the killer strikes again, this time butchering Mary's tennis partner before stealing her legs much to the chagrin of Mary and Kendall who are spending way too much time gazing uncomfortably at each other rather than, ooh I don't know, trying to catch a murderer maybe.

Returning to the police station for tea and biscuits the pair are angry to discover that groundskeeper Willie has been let free mainly due to the fact that he's Innocent so, in order to have something to do, decide to start investigating other faculty staff members after Kendall realises that the killer commits his crimes during break periods and when no-one is looking.

Imagine a particularly shite episode of Columbo then lobotomize it and you'll be halfway to seeing how basic this whodunnit plot is.

Seriously I feel like I'm losing brain functions just writing it all down.

Fair enough.

And wouldn't you know it but after spending literally, oooh minutes,  searching thru' the staff files they discover that the Dean's name isn't really Axel Foley but Timmy Foley, just like the boy who chopped up his mum at the movies beginning.

It couldn't be could it?

There's only one way to find out.

Yup Mary decides to go alone to his apartment that very night to check it/him out.

Without telling anyone obviously.

Will she arrest the Dean and bring him to justice or will she get slapped then drugged whilst he attempts to steal her feet to completed his dead flesh sex doll cum mother replacement?

Will Bracken, Holden, and Kendall arrive in time to save her because as we all know girls are rubbish at crime fighting.

And after everything is all wrapped up will the jigsaw corpse inexplicably come to live and attempt to steal Kendall's testicles?

From Spain's very own (lo-fi) Orson Welles comes quite possibly the most inane, insane and downright shite slasher ever committed to celluloid.

Nonsensical, in every way the film lurches from one ever more unrelated and bizarre set piece to another with no care for logic, plotting or good taste.

 which bizarrely enough is probably the reason why it's so bloody brilliant.

It's almost as if director Juan Piquer Simon - who in case you didn't know also gave us the cheese-string superhero epic Supersonic Man, the Peter Cushing and Terence Stamp travesty Mystery on Monster Island, the ET bothering Extra-Terrestrial Visitors* as well as the oh so slightly homo-erotic Slugs among others -  had a bet going with the producers where they put random characters and situations into a hat and each day he'd pick one and have to put it in the movie for fear of not getting paid.

Or at very least getting the bumps behind the catering truck.

If there was a catering truck that is but I wouldn't be surprised if everyone had to bring their own sandwiches.**

To be honest that's the only reason I can think of as to why so much of it makes absolutely no sense. 

For example, in the establishing shot of the campus, there's a tiny-shorted girl riding a skateboard badly, wobbling about as she rolls down the street to a feel good score. 

Meanwhile further down the road a couple of guys are slowly carrying a huge sheet of glass that the girl crashes into (in glorious slow motion) screaming as she does.

And that's it, we never see or hear about her ever again because hey we've got Roxana Nieto's peachy arse to perv over.

Which if I'm honest is a much better prospect than having to listen to Love Ist OK!!, the 'sexy' song and dance she performed on the Spanish TV equivalent of Summertime Special.***

Yer maw.

And don't get me started on the surprise cameo appearance by stunt man, convicted fraudster and Bruce Lee alike Bruce Le.

Yup the 'star' of Challenge of the Tiger, Bruce, King of Kung Fu, Infra-Man and Return of Bruce appears for no other reason than the film’s producer - exploitation king and low rent Roger Corman - Dick Randall decided that with Kung Fu being quite popular that he should be in it.

Utter genius from start to finish.

































*The bedroom belonging to Tommy (the wee pube-haired boy who befriends the alien) in this movie is actually the very same bedroom set previously used in Pieces.

But cleaned up a fair bit obviously.




**And I bet Edmund Purdom's were egg and cress.




***Oh you actually want to see it?

You're welcome.

bark at the moon.

Revisited possibly the second greatest zombie movie of all time* as part of our weekly FaceBook filmalong last night so thought I'd reanimated the review for those of you who'd never seen it.

And if you are one of those unlucky few, for fucks sake where have you all been?

And by the way if you do (as you should) love this movie as I do, why not express that love by buying one of these fantastic Burial Ground T-shirts available here or even here.

End of plug.

As a curious aside before we begin I thought I'd just add that quite recently during one of our many chats regarding this classic long-time reader Mr Dissolved Paul from The Canada (yes you can) discovered that apparently, (according to this ropey old VHS release anyway), the movie is actually set in Scotland.

Obviously there just happens to be a bunch of Italians and Etruscan Zombie monks kicking about.

But, he goes on to add, if that was the case, I'm pretty sure the most famous line would be "Ma, this rag totally stinks of pish".

Indeed.

Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror (AKA The Nihgts of Terror, Le Notti del Terrore, Die Ruckkehr Der Zombies - 1981)
Dir: Andrea Bianchi.
Cast: Peter Bark, Mariangela Giordano, Karin Well, Anna Valente, Simone Mattioli and Raimondo Barbieri.

"No, don't eat me. I'm your friend!"

Our tale of terror opens in a damp, dark cave - and surprisingly that isn’t a euphemism for Karin Well - where we join Santa's piss stained, fish-bearded and buggery obsessed brother examining some spooky cave drawings.

Obviously excited about this discovery he begins to bang on the walls whilst doing a - fairly erotic in the circumstances - drunk dance which unfortunately for him (but not for us) has awoken the dead that reside in the cave.

Dead that are hungry for human flesh.

And a wee bit of old man arse probably.

"Aye son, mah lottery numbers have

come up! oh no...ahv pished mah sel'."

Thru' the magic of cack handed editing it's suddenly the next morning where a motley band of visitors (three sexy young couples and a pot bellied dwarf  - sorry, small boy, my mistake) have arrived at the house and are looking forward to a weekend break in the country and catching up with their old pal Professor Ayres (the aforementioned bearded Barbieri).

Rocking up at the front door like some nightmare vision in Bri-Nylon our merry band are informed by the (fairly attractive in a kinda pound shop way) maid that the professor is out exploring and may be gone some time so they should make themselves at home.

Which in this case is an excuse for a quick bout of some hot sweaty sex-based shenanigans in the guest bedrooms.

Rushing to their rooms to unpack, undress and start shagging, poor little Michael (the legend that is Peter Bark looking for all the world like the result of an unholy pairing of Kevin Spacey and a warty testicle) is left alone in the downstairs lobby with only his Rubik Cube and Eye-Spy book of European arses for company.

Your mum and dad. Having sex.

In your bed.

After amusing himself for a few minutes playing with the hat stand and creepily chasing the maid, Michael decides to creep in on his mother and her mightily mustachioed lover in order to pick up a few sex tips.

We've all done it.

None too surprisingly the sight of a bowl headed, poppy eyed freak gazing lustfully from behind the sideboard does nothing for her growing passion so she throws a shoe at him screaming "Get out!".

As we will learn later, Michael has a wee thing for his dear mum and doesn't like her hanging around with perm haired, tanned Lothario's, no matter how tight their arses look whilst thrusting up and down on his mummy.

Fair enough.

Insert cock here.

After a morning of gin soaked sexiness and rampant STD's the couples settle down to some top grub whilst discussing the Professor's paper on the magical practices of the ancient Etruscans (ah, you studied that too eh?) before deciding to frolic round the lush gardens.

Michael on the other hand has decided to just sit and stare at his mums breasts.

Saying that tho' if my mums were half as bouncy I'd do the same.

But I digress.

Anyway, just in case you're wondering the frolicking in question mainly consists of sexy photography, breast fondling and general fanny flashing sauciness.

Fun for them maybe, but not for the viewer, unless you find the idea of middle aged Italian couples in nasty 70's fashion dry-humping to a sub Confessions score attractive.

Your maw's takin' the divorce well.

Luckily tho' just when you think the movie is going to descend into a soft core Euro-porn extravaganza, the dead do indeed start to rise from beneath the rosebushes and - remarkably for rotting centuries old Etruscans - manage to cut off any access to the cars, run the really annoying Janet (not the same of from Zombie Lake mind) into a handy bear trap, kill the non mustachioed man with a house brick and trap the shaky, shot to fuck survivors in the house.

And all within about twelve minutes, which isn't bad for a group of shite-covered tramps.

A shite moothed zombie

Etruscan yesterday.

The group are left with a big decision to make....do they:

A. Board up the house, arm themselves, find a safe vantage point (i.e. the attic) and defend it till help comes.

or


B. Argue among themselves, wandering off in a huff occasionally (alone).


Unbelievably Mr. mustache decides it would be best to board the house up! Everyone looks at him, then each other, then back at him (except Michael who's still staring at his mums breasts) and then start arguing.

"Hmmmm....

dirty pillows..."

One of the ladies (who cares which, they're all annoying) strops off and almost instantly gets killed by a knife wielding carnie zombie (unusual but quite nice).

Scarily he's not even the brightest one, I mean these zombies can actually plan attacks, use weapons and climb walls!

This skill is particularly useful when attacking the (still fairly hot) maid whom the undead horde manage to pin thru' an upstairs window and behead with a large scythe, which was unexpected to say the least.

Zombie Flesh Eaters? - Never heard of her.

Whilst all this is going on, Lothario man decides that the best course of action is to let the zombies into the house whilst the survivors hide in the pantry (do houses still have pantries?) sobbing like babies.

Surprisingly all the survivors think this is a great plan, except Michael that is who has an even  better idea.

You see he reckons now would be the best time to try and shag his mum.

Tom Cruise: the high waisted years.

Not knowing anything about shagging mums (well, not my own anyway) I'm quite sure (tho' I could be mistaken) that grabbing her breasts and trying to stick your tongue in her mouth isn't the way to go about it.

Unluckily for Michael this is just the smooth move he uses on her.

Unsurprisingly his mum freaks out a wee bit and throws another shoe at him screaming "Get out!" (it's becoming a habit) and Michael waddles off, only stopping to get bitten by a zombie.

Poor boy.

The survivors are faced with another difficult choice:

A. Run in the direction of the cars and drive away.

or

B. Run past the cars into the woods blindly waving your arms about going "AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!"

Which choice will they make?

Will they drive to safety or encounter a monastery full of black cloaked zombies?

Will Michael return from the grave to be met by his terrified mother or will she try to breast feed him in the most uncomfortable scene ever filmed?

The answer may be yes to the last one by the way.

Rush out and buy Burial Ground (or The Zombie Dead as the cheapo Vipco release calls it) and find out.

A bloody (not shitey) mooth

earlier today.

For all it's faults (including abysmal acting, paper thin characters, inept plotting, joke shop zombies etc.) Burial Ground is possibly one of the most entertaining films ever made, mostly down to Peter Bark's portrayal of the freaky mummy fixated Michael.

I mean whoever thought a 25 year old pot-bellied dwarf in a wig and nipple high trousers would make a convincing 12 year old deserves a medal for the sheer audacity of suggesting it.

He wanders around the film like some scary clockwork Dario Argento doll, either staring at his mums breasts or just staring into camera.

For what seems like hours at a time.

But his moment of triumph comes in the films closing moments; surrounded by the undead and with no means of escape the zombie Michael is welcomed by his open bloused mum to have some "mother's milk..."

Frankly I don't have the words and you won't either when you brave The Nights of Terror.......because you know you want to.

Cinematic gold.























*This is the best obviously.