edwige and the angry bint.

Day 5 of 31 Days of Horror and it's time for a wee bit of Edwige Fenech.

You can tell how much effort I'm putting in to this years intros can't you?

Strip Nude For Your Killer (1975)
Dir: Andrea Bianchi.
Cast: Edwige Fenech, Nino Castelnuovo, Franco Diogene, Femi Benussi, Claudio Pellegrini, Erna Schürer, Giuliana Cecchini (AKA Amanda) and various voluptuous Italian women.

"You don't need to strangle me."

"Sorry."

Large of breast and curvy of hip Brenda, a young, vivacious 'model', has accidentally become pregnant by a mysterious lover (not me) and panicking over how she'll ever fit into her snazzy fashions again decides to visit a reputable (is there such a thing?) back street abortionist (again, not me) to sort out her little problem.


Unfortunately (for her tho' not the plot) she dies of heart failure during the botched procedure. 

Being a conscientious kinda bloke the abortionist rings his pal Carlo (Scrabble winning Castelnuovo) to give him a hand taking her lifeless body back to her house before popping it in the bath tub with a bottle of gin and a coathanger in the hope of covering up his little mistake.

You don't get service like that on the NHS. 

"I cannae see the car keys hen but I've found the transit van!"

Unbeknown to Alan (the abortionist) he's being tailed by a mysterious, shiny helmeted, black clad motor-biking mentalist who, on following him back to his swish apartment, re-arranges his video tapes, knocks all his paintings slightly squint before finally cutting out his still beating heart.


Gah indeed.

When we next see creepy Carlo he's lusting over the harsh faced, tombstone toothed (but still hotter than your mum), bikini-clad beauty that is Lucia Cerrazini (ample arsed genre goddess Benussi) at his exclusive health club and almost immediately sidles over to her and asks if he can see her breasts.

She's obviously reticent until he admits to working as a fashion photographer and being smoother than a babies arse this is all it takes to get Lucia to strip off in a sauna enabling our leering Lothario to take loads of almost gynecological pics of her ample charms before eventuallysticking it in her.

By that I mean put his penis in her vagina.

As in they have 'the sex'.

  

Anyway, back to the plot good 'n' proper where it transpires that Carlo works for the infamous Albatross modeling agency, an organization well known for having the prettiest models around and run with terrifying Teutonic efficiency by the sapphic sexpot Giselle (Cecchini from the classic Il compromesso... erotico) and her sweatily man breasted, cake loving and frighteningly sausage fingered husband Maurizo (The Stendhal Syndrome's Diogene).

You'll not be surprised to find that this is the very same agency that dead Brenda worked for.

Luckily for Lucia, Carlo's in fact an honest sex obsessed pervert and, true to his word is soon dragging her along to the aforementioned Albatross Studios to meet the bosses and work on her 'portfolio'.

Gisella especially is so impressed with Lucia's natural poise and photogenic properties that she has no option but to hire her on the spot.

And then have sex with her.

This never happens on Britain's Next Top Model.

Or at least it didn't when it was actually a thing.

Ask yer mum - or your gay uncle.

 

With all this sinful bed hopping going on it doesn't take long for everyone to completely forget about poor Brenda's death as our creepy camera guys and curvy cuties carrying on with their day to day routines of swimsuit modeling, sexiness and vomiting.

Until one morning that is when Mario, the pink cravatted, camp as pants photographer (Death Walks at Midnight's Pellegrini) is found murdered, clad only in a G string and furry slippers.

Or is that my dad every Sunday morning since my mum left him?

It's hard to tell sometimes.

Next in line for the chop is poor Lucia, stripped nude not for her killer but for some rumpy pumpy with Gisella, the killer taunts her with the sound of running water before they put something in her too.

Only this time it's a big sharp knife, not a penis or leathery dildo.

Whilst all these killings are going on Carlo, never one to miss the chance of a wee bit of the sex, has hooked up with sexy, doe eyed art director Magda (the legendary Fenech, think a sleazier foul mouthed Audrey Hepburn and you're halfway there) splitting his time between fondling her frankly fantastic breasts and arguing with Gisella over what to tell the police.

Could either of them be the killer?

I mean, Carlo seems to be very friendly with all the victims and Gisella is a lesbian (remember when we knew what they were?) which must mean she's Godless with no morals.

But to be honest do you really care when Edwige Fenech is stripping naked at the drop of a hat?

Fenech: Older than your gran but twice as dirty.

Oblivious to all this murder and back-biting, man-breasted Maurizio is still trying to get his end away with one (well any of them really) of the models, focusing his attentions on the strangely vole like Doris (blonde bombsite Schürer, famous for her appearances on the cover of many a Killink novel cover during the 60's and 70's) who proves the old adage that love is blind (and in this case lacking a sense of smell) because she actually says yes to his advances.

But her night of meat fingered fun is scuppered when the poor fella bursts into tears at the thought of doing it with a real live lady, preferring to spend the night clad only in a huge nappy with his faithful blow-up doll instead.

Unfortunately Maurizio's night of latex loving is cut short when the killer pops in and cuts his throat.

Which is a mercy killing quite frankly.

With (nude) bodies starting to pile up everywhere and Milan running out of models (plus the local cake shop losing it's best customer) you'd think that the local police would at least suspect a link to the Albatross Studios.

Wouldn't you?

But oh no, they're more confused than the viewer as to what's going on, the chief inspector still reeling from the fact that Mario was a, gulp, homosexual.

What enlightened times the seventies were eh?

 

"Look everyone I've found Maddie!"

With time (and cast members) running out it's left to Magda and the by now infinitely punchable Carlo to attempt to solve the case and unmask (or is that unhelmet?) the killer....

Directed by the genius behind the Peter Bark starring zombie classic Burial Ground, Lord Andrea of Bianchi, Strip Nude for Your Killer doesn't so much as steal from the best than break into their houses and spunks in their underwear drawers before legging it with all the credit cards and loose change.

But not before it's shoved their toothbrushes up it's arse.

Bianchi (again) has managed the impossible, making a film that is at once so squalid and sleazy that even the bathwater on screen is dirty but at the same time making it a joy to behold.

And that's even before you add Edwige Fenech to the equation.

From What Have They Done To Solange? to Scooby Doo Where are You? via Blood and Black Lace, nothing or no-one is safe from Bianchi's sweaty palmed mix of sleaze, nudity, sensationalist lesbianism, big pants, vibrant wallpaper, naked handstands and blood stained bedding.

Plus it's one of the few movies that delivers exactly what it says on the box.

Which can't be all that bad.

hat trick.

Day 4 of the whole 31 Days of Horror fiasco and I'm reposting this from earlier this year as no fucker has read it yet.

You're welcome.

Beyond Terror (AKA Further Than Fear, Terrorgang, Más allá del terror. 1980).
Dir: Tomás Aznar.
Cast: Francisco Sánchez Grajera, Raquel Ramírez, Emilio Siegrist, Antonio Jabalera, Alexia Loreto, David Forrest and Andrée Van de Woestyne.

 

Their Nightmare Was Further than Fear... It was BEYOND TERROR !

 

Welcome to late 70s Spain, where men were men, women had bowl haircuts and overlarge Action slacks and every teenager seems to be a member of a drug-fueled bike gang. 

Albeit a biker gang that's slightly less scary than The Living Dead from Psychomania.

But each to their own.

So with all that pesky background in place it's time to meet one of those gang members - the pixie haired psycho Lola (One hit wonder Ramírez) who, obviously driven mad by her falling out with brother Charlie, spends her days picking up random old blokes with the promise of 'the sex' before taking them into a deserted field then stabbing them (to death) and finally stealing their wallets.

Which is nice.

Your dad's taking the divorce well.

With money to spend and and a few hours to spare Lola decides to meet up with patented bad boy Chema (Grajera - star of La Celestina and La patria del rata but you knew that) alongside her freaky (other) brother Nico (Bajo en nicotina's Siegrist) and some other guy whose name escapes me, tho' it's probably not that important as he'll be dead soon.*

Anyway after spending all their cash on hash and coming down with a huge dose of the munchies the merry band decide to hold up the local (upmarket) kebab shop but just as they're about to leave with the food (and the contents of the till) the police turn up and a pitched gun battle ensues resulting in the death of nameless guy and two of the police.

Covered in blood, sweat and kebab sauce and with their options quickly dwindling Chema decides to kidnap the two remaining (living) customers, Jorge (Jabalera - Manolo from TeeVees Las Viudas) and Linda (Loreto, who once met Paul Naschy) and steal their car in order to safely escape.

Hel - met.

With Jorge forced to drive at gunpoint, Chema wastes no time in trying to get into Linda's (big, beige) underwear, blatantly touching her bum as a slightly annoyed Jorge looks on helplessly.

Linda doesn't really mind the attention tho' as it turns out that she and Jorge don't actually like each other and she's only having an affair with him because her (very rich) husband is so boring and that she was planning to leave both him and Jorge, you see she's cleared out her hubbie's bank account (and Peppa Pig money box) and has stashed over a million quid in crisp new tenners in her handbag to help her start a new life.

Probably in Walsall.

Dollar are looking a wee bit rough.

This announcement comes as a wee bit of a surprise to everyone in the car, especially Jorge who angrily lunges at Linda, causing the car to crash into a big tree leaving our merry band no alternative other than to traipse thru' the woods in the hope of finding a house with a car, or at least a few occupants to terrorize.

Being a fairly short movie it's not too long before they come across a dilapidated farmhouse belonging to the elderly Dama (Van de Woestyne) that she shares with her grandson Andras (Forrest) and her pet pooch Simon (himself). 

Being bad boys tho' they rudely turn down the old ladies offer of tea and biscuits and instead push the old woman to the ground, kill the dog and lock Andras in a wardrobe before torching the place and stealing Dama's car. 

Oh yes and shitting in the sugar bowl.

Whilst all this carnage is going on Jorge and Linda just stand around looking uncomfortable proving themselves just as despicable as Chema, Nico and Lola.

Tho' in Lola's case not as cute obviously.

And with that they drive off into the night, Andras' screams still echoing in the darkness.

¡Cómete en mi boca española asesina, bastardos!

Unfortunately the creepy crims hadn't realised that Dama was one of Spain's top Satanist-types and even now, with her last breath is calling upon the powers of Hell to extract revenge upon the group.

A revenge that begins with a spooky supernatural spirit taking control of their car and forcing it to drive to an abandoned castle (via the terrifying medium of speeded-up film) before breaking shorting the sparkplugs (or something I'm no mechanic) and forcing them to spend the night there...a night where they will each face their darkest fears and most horrifying visions.

But first there's enough time for some chat about wealth, Chema and Linda to give each other puppy eyes much to Jorge's annoyance and for Nico to have a crafty wank in the drawing room whilst mocking the churches obsession with 'spunk trumpets' or something.

To be fair I was out having a fag at this point so was having to read the subtitles thru the window. 

Lola at this point is just sitting on a rock looking bored seeing as the script seems to have fuck all for her to do other than to look vacant.

As i return to the coziness of my living room it seems that Jorge has the same idea as I just did, as he wanders off for a sly ciggie too leaving Linda and Chema to find a quiet tomb to sit on in the cellar as they discuss their feelings.

Well Chema basically says "I fancy you a fair bit" whilst Linda says "I fancy you too, let's take my big bag of money and run away!" before having a wee bit of 'the sex' in brightly lit, pimple showing detail.

Fair enough.

"Boiled onions!"

At the point of climax (Linda's not mine) who happens to walk in but poor old Jorge, who upon finding his girlfriend spreadeagled on a mausoleum with a leather-clad youth thrusting 'tween her milky smooth thighs stomps off in a huff and attempts to steal the car (and the cash) only to get trapped inside with his kipper tie wrapped around the handbrake as the vehicle bursts into flames.

As Chema comforts Linda - much to Lola's chagrin - no one notices the ghostly presence of the dead boy and his dog (from earlier, remember?) watching from the hilltop.

Spooky biscuits.

Chema, taking charge decides that they should all rest up for the night and decide a plan of action in the morning and on that note heads off hand in hand with Linda leaving Lola to storm off in a massive strop.

You see it appears that she's secretly had a crush on Chema for years and only became a badgirl in the hope he'd notice her so upon realising that he loves another she decides to find her brother for some moral support.

When she does find him tho' he's angrily wanking in the kitchen.

Again.

It seems that he too had the hots for Chema.

Or maybe Linda, I'm not sure at this point.

All I do know is that in a scene of sibling support, Lola decides to help her brother out and hopefully cheer him up by giving him a crafty gobble in front of the antique fireplace. 

Not being Spanish I've no idea if this is usual family behavior or not. 

Answers to the usual address.

 

Chema tries to find the puncture on his patented Gwyneth Paltrow love doll.

Unable to sleep Linda decides to go for a midnight wander only to be confronted by the crispy ghost of Jorge who tuts disapprovingly at the fact that she's showing a wee bit too much thigh..

This upsets Linda so much that she runs away and hides in the crypt where (very) surprisingly the mummified corpses on display come alive and start touching her in a fairly inappropriate manner.

Not that she seems to mind tho', I mean this is the most animated she's been for the entire film if I'm honest.

Unfortunately the film cuts back to Nico before things get too interesting/pervy.

Oh well.

Maybe she's born with it, maybe it's Maybelline.

It seems that Nico is also having trouble sleeping (all that wanking appears to have given him a bad bout of cramp in his thigh) so he's decided to go for a walk to stretch his legs.

Wandering aimlessly around the nearby woods he's surprised (there's a lot of this going on) when Simon the dead dog turns up and drops a stick at his feet.

Just before tearing Nico's throat out.

Ouch.

The noise of all this corpse humping and throat ripping  wakes Lola who decides to look for Chema for help/a shag but soon comes across him hanging from a tree, turning to run she stumbles over her brothers dead body and in a fit of panic makes her way into the crypt to hide only to see Linda's cobwebbed body surrounded by corpses in a corner.

What your mum really gets up to on bingo night.

Drowning in death and with the musty smell of boiled cabbage in the air Lola panics and attempts to leave the crypt only to be confronted by the spirit of the old woman she and her friends murdered earlier.

And it is time for her final revenge....

Will Lola explain that she's really a victim of her socialization process and escape?

Or will she too be creepily cuddled by the corpse army?

Or will the old lady intensely stare at her for a bit and make her head explode?

Go on, guess.

Titles.

From 'director' Tomás Aznar (who gave us the classics Playboy en paro and El libro de buen amor - no, me neither) and the man behind the threadbare thriller Pieces, Juan Piquer Simón, comes a film so shoddy that even Simón hid behind an alias he was so embarrassed.

Now you just think about that for a minute.

I'll wait.

Surprisingly for all its faults (and they are legion) it's actually fairly watchable tho' partly due to it's unlikely - and slightly drunken - fusing of A Clockwork Orange and The Blind Dead (with the underwear and sauciness of Burial Ground thrown in for good measure) but mainly because Raquel Ramírez looks so darn cute in her Greek fisherman's hat, woolly scarf and sensible winter coat.

Which I think says way more about me than the film if I'm honest.

Sensible.

Plus, if you're a fan of Euro-horror of the 70s/80s it actually has an incredibly comfy feel to it, like meeting up with an old pal in the pub before realizing that you usually ignore him because after 3 pints he shits on the bar for a laugh.

It's all there, violence, sexiness, saucy 70s undies and dialogue so stilted you could rest your shopping against it with no worries of the bag spilling over.

Occasionally something unusual happens (seduction by mummified corpses I'm looking at you) but then the director has no idea what to do with it so hastily moves on to something else.

A bit like your mum and that myriad of 'uncles' you had as a kid.

And if nothing else tho' you can enjoy the blatant rip off of Frank Frazetta's artwork for the cover of Vampirella Issue 11 for the poster art.

An illustration so good that even the makers of The Witch Who Came from the Sea nicked it too.

 

See how many more you can find.**

To be honest, if you're reading this blog you'll love it, if you haven't already seen it that is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* Just found out his name is Jess and he's played by Martin Kordas.

**Don't write in, it's just for fun.

yellow peril.

Day 3 of that 31 days of 'the horror' thing.....

Beast Of The Yellow Night (1971).
Dir: Eddie Romero.
Cast: John Ashley, Vic Diaz, Mary Charlotte Wilcox, Eddie Garcia, Leopoldo Salcedo and Ken Metcalfe.

Well it's 1940 something (the red text is really bleeding) and we're straight into action with the Filipino army who appear to be on some kind of camping trip in the play park behind director Romero's house.

After a few uncomfortable minutes featuring some top quality comedy accents and distorted dialogue Romero, giving up any hope of explaining the plot, cuts to good old John Ashley in a tattered combat suit wearing a pube beard and trademark quiff but carrying a good 100 lbs more than normal.

Surely his career hasn't sunken so low that he's been forced to eat shrubs in a park?

Phew! don't worry, he's just 'in character' as US deserter and patented bad bastard Joseph Langdon, on the run (and no doubt the rum) from, um somebody after selling out his country to work for the Japanese.

As what we will never know.

"Is it Giro day?"

Dying of starvation and desperate for a slash, Langdon is offered eternal life in exchange for his soul by The Devil (corpulent campster and father of Cameron,  Diaz) who just happens to be passing by on the way back from the Aldi with a bag of human body parts.

Lucky eh?

One flesh feast and a Hey Nonny Nonny later and we learn that Langdon’s mind now travels from body to body, inciting the “inert evil” that lies within each person.

No, sorry it all sounds a wee bit vague to me.

Anyway we're now in modern day (well 1971) Manila where Langdon has just been buried but as the old saying goes wicked folk never get any sleep and our argumentative anti-hero has soon jumped into the body of rich American businessman Philip Rogers, face fucked by some heavy machinery and believed dead by the local doctor.

You can imagine his surprise then when Rogers sits up and removes the bandages revealing not the face of a man with mince for eyes but the handsome chiseled features of Ashley.

Put it this way, his sexy wife Julia (Wilcox whose nipples you may remember from her sexy shower scene in The Psychic Killer and being Playboy playmate of the month in October 1974) isn't complaining.

Unlike his ball headed brother Earl (the frighteningly Formica Metcalfe, best remembered as the fantastic gazelle man in The Twilight People) who seems a little annoyed - or is that constipated - at the thought of his big bro coming back to rule the roost.

"Three kiddy kidneys and an old mans cock for a fiver! Sorted!"

Anyway, apart from being the embodiment of ageless evil itself and being able to live forever in any body, Langdon/Rogers/Ashley also has the power to peer into even the blackest of souls, literally smelling the most impure of intentions and making people act on them.

Which is nice if a little obscure a super power to have, tho' saying that, the ability to make anyone act in this movie would be a Godsend right now.

So with his new found wealth and power he goes about calling board meetings, shagging his wife and, um, trying to get her to run away with his brother before shagging her again.

This may not make any sense cinematically but it does give the director an excuse to indulge in some frankly hyper-erotic shots of Wilcox's arse superimposed over random scenes of Ashley squeezing her left tit.

And all to a sexy rhumba beat.

"Shite in mah mooth or suckle mah man tits.....you decide!"

Well, we're halfway in and still with no clear idea as to why anything is happening but none of this will soon matter as one night, whilst walking off a particularly heavy Vindaloo, Langdon turns into a werewolf.

No, seriously.

It seems that the pesky Devil has cursed the poor bugger with some form of trapped wind induced Lycanthropy.

A messy trail of mutilated bodies and squished internal organs follows with a bloody shirted (which does make the pattern a wee bit easier on the eye) and battered Langdon awakening in a blind man's shed.

Luckily tho' his Englebert Humperdick quiff is still perfect.

Laugh now!

More murders (and sexy stuff) follow leaving ace detectives Jeff Santos and Barry Campo (Salcedo and Garcia) to track down this monstrous mutilator.

Which, if I'm honest isn't that difficult seeing as there's only one 6ft, high haired American with a line in such tasteless shirts wandering around Manila.

But will our police pals managed to arrest Langdon before he's able to initiate the Devil's evil plan to do stuff?

Will Julia ever change out of that hellish powder blue babydoll nightie?

And will Earl's head continue expanding until it exerts it's own gravitational force and drags the rest of the cast kicking and screaming toward it?

Regular readers of the Arena will no doubt already know of my love for Eddie Romero’s Filipino frighteners, his cinema cohort, the 50's teen star turned horror hero John Ashley and their frankly magnificent 'Blood Island' trilogy, produced alongside Sam Sherman.

But all good things must come to an end and it was with Beast Of The Yellow Night; originally envisaged as a fourth Blood Island film that Sherman and Romero parted company.

Sherman went on to produce the Grant Williams starrer Brain Of Blood (directed by the legendary Al Adamson) whilst Romero took his film to Roger Corman and his recently created New World Pictures.

"Is it in yet?"

Much more talky and, for such a simple plot, much more confusing than the duo's earlier work, it still successful enough for the duo to continue working with King Corman for the rest of the early 70's bringing us such classics as The Woman Hunt and Savage Sisters alongside the aforementioned Twilight People and the Patrick (Sinbad) Wayne fantasy fest Beyond Atlantis before the entire Filipino fright film industry collapsed on it's arse.

No, it's not for sale.

Which is a sad note to end on really.

I'll try better tomorrow.

beast wars.

It's the annual 31 Days of Horror thang and this year the theme seems to be hairy beasts.

Let's see how long that continues.

Anthropophagous: The Beast (AKA The Grim Reaper, The Savage Island 1980)
Dir: Joe D'Amato
Starring: Tisa Farrow, Serena Grandi, Margaret Donnelly, Mark Bodin and Sir George Eastman.

Our tale of 'terror' opens on a grey and overcast Greek beach where a pair of unattractive German tourists are relaxing on vacation.

Whilst the girl (in a horrible 70's style bikini that leaves either way too little or far too much to the imagination - I can't decide) swims out into the choppy and obviously freezing - as in it's overcast, what other reason would there be? - waters, her boyfriend lies sprawled out on a towel (probably not his) listening to his unfeasibly large 'Walkman' and posing in his tiny Speedo's.

Nice.

Within seconds tho', someone (or something) pulls her down beneath the surface amid an enormous cloud of blood.

Unaware of his girlfriends murder the young man carries on frugging away to whatever it is German tourists listen to only to be rudely interrupted by a hatchet in the face.

Gruesome.

"Aya! my BCG!"

With a shower of scratches and amateurish dissolves the movie flashes forward a month or so (trust me, it feels longer) where we come across (we wish) the delightful American broad abroad Julie (a bored looking Farrow) eavesdropping on a group of badly dressed, big haired holidaymakers talking about a boat tour of the Aegean they're organizing.

This motley crew consists of hunky medical student Alan/Andy (depending on the dub), his sister (or maybe his ex girlfriend, again depending on the dub but to be honest  I don't really care) Carol - a new age tarot reading nutter, Italian stud muffin for hire (is there any other type?) Danny' Mister 'no character traits' Arnold alongside his pregnant wife Maggie plus the boat owner and open necked shirt man Stephis.

Julie being brash and American rudely interupts the chat to ask if they could take her over to one of the nearby islands.

Which surprisingly isn't a casino-based euphemism.

You see she’s supposed to be visiting some friends there, but she’s running a wee bit late and managing to miss the last boat (what? no water taxi's? or phones?) is stuck.

The group think "The sister of Mia Farrow and star of Zombie Flesh Eaters on our boat? Coolio!" and invite her along.

Farrow: floppy fringed and bored senseless. I/you still would tho'.

As they sail away, kooky Carol foresees disaster for Julie in her tarot cards.

You see, the mystic ones future reading came out as an unintelligible load of old bollocks, which means (to us in the tarot know) that Julie has no future!

The others, however, just think she's barmy and chuck the cards overboard.

But if we take a look at her career we can see that it's actually spot on.

Arriving at the island Maggie 'trips' and twists her ankle so decides to stay on board with sweaty Stephis while the others explore but with this being a Joe D'Amato movie nothing is that sedate and it's not long before a mysterious figure kills the open necked shirted one, kidnaps a screaming (and probably really dangerously hormonal) Maggie and sets the boat adrift.

Meantime, as the others explore the deserted island, Carol thinks she sees a figure at a window, but when they go to look no one can be found.

With all the horror tropes suggesting badness ahead - broken windows, a sign saying 'go away' and a score that sounds like a drunk ex-squaddie bumming a cat - the preening posse soon stumble upon a horribly mutilated body proving Carol's carping on about creepiness was absolutely correct.

Not too surprisingly, everyone decides it's time to go.

Laugh now.

With darkness quickly descending and a storm brewing on the horizon they take refuge in Julie's friends' deserted house (remember the folk she was going to visit? - cos the director hasn't until now) where the friends decide on a course of action....snuggle up together quietly till morning or split up and explore with only a match to light their way.

Julie and Andy decide to take the exploring option.

It all actually goes quite well under the circumstances up until (in one of the films only genuine jump moments) a sweaty blind girl jumps on Andy screaming "I can smell him… I'm the only one who knows when he's coming. And I'm never wrong. He smells of blood…"

Which doesn't say much for the killers choice of aftershave.

Julie recognizes the girl as her friends daughter Ariette, so the threesome decide to head back to the house together.

Aw sweet.

She's lucky....at least she can only hear the bloody film.

Unfortunately Ariette's ramblings send Carole over the edge (probably because there's only room for one mad woman in the house) and she runs away sobbing like a big girls blouse.

As Julie follows in hot pursuit, Ariette senses the presence of (or just smells) the killer in the house.

Our not so merry band soon realize that the infamous Andy Anthropopagous (AKA The Beast) is loose and he's feeling a wee bit mental.

Will anyone survive to tell the tale?

And will anyone watching stay awake long enough to care?

Can't decide what's more terrifying...
the neck wound or the hair.

Anthropophagous: the Beast is famous for three main reasons; it's genre God Joe D'Amato's first foray into 'straight horror' (after his 'gore porn' hits like Erotic Nights of The Living Dead), it has one of the best titles ever and was banned as a 'video nasty' during the 80's in the UK.

But more on that later.

D'Amato regular (and the movie's co-writer), the great George Eastman stars, alongside his colossal mantits as 'the beast' of the title, a shambling monosyllabic Max Wall gone to seed with a taste for human flesh, all trampy mullet, tight trousers, yellowy scalp and unbuttoned shirts.

It's so well realized that you can literally smell the piss and nob cheese thru' the screen.

Eastman: sorted for gin and piss.

Like all of D'Amato's movies there are some moments of quality, the suspenseful chase through the woods, where Julie's face is illuminated by brief flashes of lightning showcases the directors (usually unnoticed) skill as a cinematographer to the sequence exploring the beast's shabby almost pathetic lair via the disturbing flashback explaining the beast's origins – shipwrecked with his family, he accidentally kills his wife whilst trying to calm her down after suggesting the eat the body of their dead son to survive - but these little touches of greatness do nothing to help save the rest of the film from being a shoddily made, boredom fest of a movie.

And the movie's most notorious scene - and it's reason for appearing on the DPP banned list?

Well that comes late in the film where, after killing Arnold, the beast proceeds to tear the fetus from a still screaming Maggie's belly and then eat it.

This caused uproar amongst MP's and journalist's alike in 1984, when (incredible as it may seem) many were convinced they were witnessing an actual snuff movie.

I will admit it took me over 20 years to finally view this scene, not I hasten to add because I was concerned by the graphic image of infanticide I would undoubtedly see, but because the rest of the film leading up to that bit is so arse numbingly boring I'd given up way before it actually happened.

Most of it is either shot in the dark or on what looks like out of date off-cuts of cheap market stall film stock, the cast's acting style is almost totally non existent (you know it's a lost cause when even Tisa Farrow is in a film for the money) and when the most terrifying thing in a film is an actresses almost obscenely hairy armpits (take a bow Ariette! I know you're blind but you could of at least had a feel under there...it's like a forest) you know you're in big trouble.

"Did you get me a Drifter?"

Anyway, I digress.

Back to eating babies and the infamy surrounding this scene (which is still missing from the UK cut of this film), when you finally summon up the courage to view it you can plainly see that Eastman is chowing down on a (dead) baby rabbit wrapped in bacon rashers.

How can anyone get a baby and a rabbit confused?

And confused enough to take it to court on obscenity charges?

I mean:

Fluffy bunny wabbit (sans bacon).

Small child
(also sans bacon).

If you make it that far tho' you're rewarded with a classic final scene where Eastman is stabbed in the stomach with a pickaxe and, not letting a cannibal trick go by, proceeds to scoop up his intestines and shove them back into the wound.

When this fails he decides it's easier to just eat them.

See? told you it was a quality movie.

Tisa Farrow is shocked to discover
no-one eats a baby in her DVD copy.

Luckily Anthropophagous: the Beast is available in the UK for those brave souls that fancy it.

You're cheapest option is to search your local pound shop (no, really) as it's available on a double disc (but renamed The Grim Reaper) with Mario Bava's Daria Nicolodi starrer Shock (called Beyond The Door II on the packaging).

Unfortunately this version (and surprisingly the last US release) is missing the fetus eating scene and, it must be said most of the plot.

Thankfully tho' our German cousins* (God bless 'em!) released a fully uncut version and it's in the original 1.85:1 aspect ratio too.

As a downside it looks like it's been transfered from an old nth generation video copy meaning large amounts of the movie appear to be filmed in utter blackness.....

Well you win some you lose some.

































*Bizarrely enough 'the Germans' appear to have something of an unhealthy obsession with this movie which came to a head in 1999 when Violent Shit director Andreas Schnaas remade the film as Anthropophagous 2000.

Utter pants from start to finish (tho' the bikini worn by the girl at the start is an improvement) it's lead actress* Cornelia de Pablos retired to take up painting soon after its completion.

Unfortunately if her work online is anything to go by she shouldn't have bothered.

*Unlike Tisa Farrow who went on to pose for Playboy, nude on a Merry-Go-Round horse wrapped in streamers.

See you tomorrow.

shafted.

It's the first day of the oh so exciting 31 days of horror thing I put myself - and anyone who reads this pitiful excuse for a blog - thru' every year and this time around I'm starting with the big guns.

Well one big gun and the late great Michael Gambon in way of a tribute.

What more do you need?

The Beast Must Die! (1974).
Dir: Paul Annett.
Cast: Calvin Lockhart, Marlene Clark, Charles Gray, Michael Gambon, Ciaran Madden, Tom Chadbon, Anton Diffring and Peter Cushing.

“This film is a detective story — In which you are the detective. The question is not ‘Who is the murderer?’ — But ‘Who is the werewolf?’ After all the clues have been shown — You will get a chance to give your answer. Watch for the werewolf break.”

Welcome to the world of multi-millionaire, big game hunter, international playboy and pound shop John Shaft Tom Newcliffe (a very shouty Lockhart) who, it seems, likes nothing better than to spend his weekends clad in shiny black plastic suits and being chased around his country estate by a load of heavily armed muscly white guys in helicopters and Land-Rovers whilst sweating profusely as a camp Polish bloke named Pavel (Brit-cinema rentaNazi Diffring) captures it all on videotape.

Look if that's what he enjoys then who am I to judge?

There’s a legitimate reason for all this wannabe race-baiting tho' (other than to give the film an intriguing - if in this day and age slightly disturbing - credit sequence obviously) as Tom is actually busy testing his estates newly installed high-tech security system.

And why is that? I hear you ask.

Well it seems that he's invited a group of folk to spend the weekend with him - and his wife Caroline (Clark from Night of The Cobra Woman, Ganja & Hess, Slaughter and Billy Dee Williams marital bed) - to not only indulge in a wee bit of drinking, chatting and dining but also to find out which one of them is a werewolf.

Oh yes and then kill them.

No seriously.

You see, according to Tom in all his big game hunting adventures this is the one animal he's never hunted.

Which begs the question as to which ones he has.

Vampires?, sea monsters? the Yeti? Katy Hopkins?

We need to know.

"I wouldn't one one of them swimming up my arse!"

And who is this motley band of would be werewolves?

Well there's distinguished diplomat Sir Arthur Bennington (genre stalwart and lifelong bachelor Gray), problematic pianist Jan Gilmore and his ex-protege cum wife Davina (the legend that is Dame Michael of Gambon and Madden who I'm sure was in some other stuff) alongside the hairy handed artist and part-time cannibal Paul Foote (Doctor Who's Duggan himself Chadbon) and the eminent lycanthropy expert Prof. Dolph Lundgren (Cushing).

It seems that at some point or another each of the five has been somewhere where a bad murder has been committed.

By a werewolf.

Probably.

And with the whys and wherefores out of the way our merry band of might be murderers settle down to an insult filled dinner followed by a vaguely threatening game of pass the silver candlestick before retiring grumpily to bed as Pavel records their every move.

Imagine a really angry edition of Big Brother but with more Bri-Nylon.

"And for my next trick I will levitate this table without using my hands!"

Being quite a short film with a really bare-bones plot it's not long until the werewolf (played by a tie-dyed sheepdog) shows itself giving Tom ample opportunity to sweatily run around the woods - clad in a shiny plastic coat no less - randomly pointing a gun a trees whilst Pavel shouts random directions at him.

Little do the pair know tho' that the beast (who remember must die) is sneakily making its way to Pavel's office in order to kill him.

This turn of events understandably makes Tom even more obsessed with killing the creature much to his wife's chagrin and that night after dinner he forces the group to grab the candlestick (again) whilst waving a pot of Wolfs-bane around like a demented Morrissey tribute act.

Unfortunately none of this works because - as Prof. Lundgren helpfully points out, if the werewolf is fairly new to the whole transforming game they'll be able to hold on to their humanity a bit better than an old werewolf.

Or your dad after a drink.

Jacket.

It's during this plant-based outburst that Tom notices that Paul doesn't seem to be taking the situation as seriously as he should so our hero decides that this must be because he's a werewolf and not the fact that the whole premise is fucking ludicrous so to this end he decides to target the poor bloke with a barrage of insults and dirty looks.

Because sarcasm kills werewolves obviously.

And with that Paul heads of to bed, being careful to show his hairy back and arse to camera as he gets undressed.

Well it's another night and another full moon which means that we're about to experience some top quality day for night footage as Tom - this time in the BBC weather helicopter - flies around the English countryside randomly shooting at shadows before coming to land outside his greenhouse where it's been reported that a large dog is digging up the roses.

Bursting in all guns blazing Tom is surprised to find that the reported dog is, in fact, his actual pet dog, taken out for a nighttime poo by his Caroline.

The guffaws soon turn to screams tho' as out of nowhere (well from behind a bush) the werewolf appears, first killing the helicopter pilot before savaging Tom's pet pooch.

And with that they all skulk back to the house only to find poor Arthur Bennington dead in his bed and Paul missing.

Hmmmm.

Don't worry too much tho' he soon turns up saying he missed the drama as he was having a massive poo.

Which is fair enough.

Tim Martin farted....and it smells of yeast.

With the surviving guests all in one place and the movie hurtling drunkenly toward it's conclusion there's only one thing for it.

No not a brilliantly choreographed action sequence but a totally unexpected appearance from a childs version of the Countdown clock to herald the 'Werewolf Break' - a chance for viewers to weigh up the evidence given so far (which is a bit rich as let's be honest, there hasn't actually been any) and guess who the beast - that must die obviously - is.

And with that out of the way it's back to the film good and proper, where after a swift drink Tom pulls out a box of silver bullets (no idea where from as his trousers are really tight) and orders each of the guests - and his wife - to pop one in their mouth.

You can imagine his surprise then when the only person affected by the silver is his wife Caroline who almost immediately starts to sprout hair and fangs.

As the group look on in horror (OK mild disbelief) the crew quickly replace her with a dog who - on cue - leaps at Tom leaving him no choice other than shoot her/it (pronouns are important according to the kids) in the face.

This turn of events leaves Tom understandably confused so it's left to good old Lundgren to explain that Caroline must have gotten infected whilst taking care of her dog's wounds after the werewolf attack in the greenhouse, noting that she had a cut on her hand from earlier that evening.

Seems legit.

With dawn fast approaching and the remaining guests accounted for it's a race against time for Tom to find the beast and kill it.....

Because the beast must die.

Obviously.

A rare break from the portmanteau horror genre from the mighty Amicus, The Beast Must Die mixes sub-Avengers plotting with a very British take on Blaxploitation all hastily wrapped in the plot of "The Most Dangerous Game" (which was first filmed in 1932 so by this point was starting to creak a wee bit) and handed to a director whose claim to fame seemed to be bringing a variety of TV shows in under budget and on time which all in all may be seen as a recipe for if not disaster then at least a bit of a turgid mess.

Scarily tho' despite all of this (or maybe because of it) The Beast Must Die is actually pretty enjoyable for something that is to all intents and purposes utter cringe-inducing shite and mainly that's due to the talent on screen.

I mean anyone that can convincingly look terrified as the directors sheep dog dyed black and wearing a comedy ruff  prances about with its tongue out deserves at least a little respect.

And yes I'm looking at you Tom Chadbon.

"Sausages"

Saying that tho' everyone else is pretty impressive too, it's just a pity that after getting together a cast that includes the likes of Charles Gray, Michael Gambon, Anton Diffring and Peter Cushing the writer/director decided to do fuck all with them except have them sitting around drinking wine in a collection of really horrible trousers.

And all while our heroic 'lead' Calvin Lockhart stands around shouting dressed in an approximation (if your nan was involved in the costumes) of what Shaft would wear had he been born in West Bromwich.

Talking of Shaft, if you've ever wondered what that classic movie would sound like if scored by a Tubby Hayes tribute band more used to working on 70s fag adverts then you're in luck.



No disrespect to Douglas Gamley - who scored shedloads of Amicus productions with great success, I mean his score for From Beyond the Grave is bloody phenomenal - but in this case it just sounds like it's trying way too hard, a wee bit like a musical version of your uncle Peter trying to pull that bridesmaid at your cousins wedding.

"Quick! Here comes Uncle Peter!"

Damning with faint praise I reckon the best thing you can say about The Beast Must Die is somewhere in that there's a really great grindhouse style actioner in there desperate to get out.

A wee bit like the beast itself.