thought of the day.

mind your language.

Since lockdown myself and the boychild have been amusing ourselves by taking daily walks up the woods and along the canal.

No idea why this film came to mind during yesterdays walk tho'.....

Risky to write NHS on this lock, if any Tories see it they'll probably try and sell it. Bastards.

Invaders of The Lost Gold (AKA Horror Safari, Safari of No Return, Greed 1982).
Dir: Alan Birkinshaw.
Cast: Stuart Whitman, Edmund Purdom, Woody Strode, Laura Gemser, Harold Sakata, David De Martyn and Glynis Barber.

Mmmmmm.....starburst effect.

The year is 1945 and somewhere deep within the lush, verdant jungles of the Philippines a crack squad of (really sweaty) Japanese soldiers and their native minions are carrying huge wooden crates of gold to the coast where it will be shipped back to Japan to help the war effort.

All is going to plan until the (frighteningly bare arsed) local cannibal tribe decide it would be a good laugh to jump out of the bushes and start firing arrows at the unfortunate soldiers before beheading them and dancing about with the said heads on poles.

Which is nice.

The Chuckle Brothers have let themselves go.

After an out of focus minor skirmish the Japanese that still have their heads attached run away and hide the gold under a pile of leaves in a nearby cave before beating a hasty retreat back to the Holiday Inn or wherever they've been staying during the films production.

Before leaving tho' they make a vow to one day return together to retrieve the booty.

Without warning we suddenly jump forward in time 36 years to join weaselly Englishman Rex Larsen ('B' movie ne'er was Purdom) as he cruises the mean streets of Tokyo looking for the three surviving soldiers to 'persuade' them to take him to the caves so he can get his stinky little mitts on the gold.

Things aren't going that well for poor Rex tho' as a mix of bad manners (and bad luck) means that he accidentally killed the first soldier he came across (oops) and the second one he spoke to committed Hari Kari.

Must be his aftershave.

Or his rotten fish breath.

Mark attempts his party stopping Fatty Arbuckle impression.

Luckily the surviving squaddie, Mr. Jeff Tobachi is always looking for ways to fund his pie habit and offers to lead a team to the cave for a very generous 30% and all the cakes he can eat.

All that's left now is to get Brit Toff Douglas Jefferson (De Martyn in his only big screen role. Shame) to put up the cash for the expedition and pick a motley band of adventurers to head out into the jungle to retrieve the gold.

Rex is very annoyed to hear that Jefferson is insisting on using piss stained mercenary Mark Forrest (one time star and full time alcoholic Troy Tempest lookalike Stuart Whitman) to lead the team, it appears Rex and Mark have a history (but not of the sexy kind) and the thought of having to share a tent with him has left Rex all riled.

Yes, the film is really this fucking grim.

Cut to grainy (well grainier than the rest of the film) footage of sexy bar signs and slinky hipped oriental girls dancing badly. In between the baying sailors and bespectacled tourists is our hero Mark slumped over a bottle of finest J & B and dribbling like a baby.

It's right about now that we meet Cal (Strode), Mr. Jefferson's right hand man, who's been sent to find Forrest and offer him a deal.

Pausing only to admire the dancers stomach muscles his enjoyable night out is spoiled by one of the group of sailors standing in front of him turning round and uttering the immortal (and possibly fairly offensive line) "Check out the big black bastard here!".

Some gammons social distancing yesterday.

Ignoring the barrage of - not so - thinly veiled insults as he bops along to the glorious disco sounds Cal finally loses his cool when one of the sailors admits to 'not liking niggers' causing the until now calm Cal to become a frenzied fight machine intent on kicking the absolute shite out of anything and anyone near him.

This is enough to sober up Mark who decides to join in.

Waking in the cells all snuggled up the next morning Mark and Cal have a quick chat about jungle trips before bidding their farewells and going their separate ways.

Mark however is interrupted a few hours later still drunk and mid shandy by Jefferson clutching a wad of cash.

Before Mark gets the wrong idea Jefferson explains that the money is to secure his services as team leader for the expedition.

Mark hiccups and drops off to sleep in a warm bed of his own urine.

"Mooooooooooooooon!"

 Jefferson has only one option left open to him and that's to send his beautiful young daughter Janice (Glynis - Dempsey and Makepiece - Barber in a shocking wig) to seduce Mark into coming.

On the jungle trip obviously.

"To me!" "To you!"

Well this seems to do the trick as next thing we known he's standing on the bow of a boat in all his safari shirted, open necked, man breasted glory as a team of stereotypical natives carry tins of peaches and condensed milk on board.

One of the party appears to have there own (evil) agenda tho' and if that wasn't enough, Mark's ex girlfriend the sultry Maria (purring pussycat Gemser) and her chubbie hubbie are acting (if that's not too strong a word) as guides for the team.

With this mix of ex minxes, jolly Japs, evil Englishmen and alcoholic Americans what could possibly go wrong?

Sing Lofty.

They've only just finished setting up base camp before the horrible (and 'accidental') deaths begin.

First up Maria's fat hubby is killed by a snake (after first embarrassingly having a tent collapse on top of him) then a nameless man is killed in slow motion by a photo of a crocodile (or five photo's of a crocodile in a jammed, second hand Viewmaster, tho' it may have been an alligator the picture was so scratchy it was hard to tell) and Rex disappears (whilst shaving no less).

Mark, between bouts of drinking and sticking it in Janice decides that the merry gang should stick together in case anyone else suffers a mysterious accident which is Maria's cue to go skinny dipping (she's already disappointed us by not having a big sexy lesbian shagfest - as she does in every other one of her movies - with Glynis so this is the next best thing).

"Not my wanking hand!"

After a good (and I do mean good) ten minutes of Lovely Laura frolicking about in the water the soundtrack goes all sinister whilst the picture went all grainy and slow-mo.

I actually thought my player, having finally had enough of all the shite I force it to play had become sentient and decided to end it all.

Worriedly fiddling with the front of the player whilst randomly hitting buttons on the remote control I was brought back to reality by Ms. Gemser's shrill screams as an unseen horror appeared to do bad things to her under the water.

Or something.

Anyway the next thing we know she's lying face down in a puddle, her arse shivering in the cold air as Cal shoots at something strange in the trees.

Yup, after 30 minutes screen time and nary a minge-munching in sight Gemser is out of the picture.

I know the lovely Glynis is still around but honestly what are the chances of her wanking off a monkey at the directors request?

Gemser: Ask your (grand) dad.

Now everything has gone to Hell in a handbasket (I still have no idea what that means), Mr. Tobachi is sweatily blaming Cal, Mark is feverishly searching for a bottle of scotch to dull the pain of the script and Cal is playing guitar as Janice and her dad stand around looking like right tits in their pith helmets.

But the quest for the gold must continue tho' as there's still 25 minutes left on the running time (not to mention that seeing as there are less folk now it means the survivors will get more cash) but will any of them make it out alive?

Will Cal fall off a rope bridge and fall to his death in a 'bottomless' 15 feet deep cravas?

Will Jefferson end up skewered like a big leathery posh kebab?

Will Tobachi ever have a full tummy and will the cannibals re-appear to protect their sacred land?

You'll have to see Invaders of The Lost Gold to find out.

Tho' the answer is rather upsettingly no to the last one by the way.

Same shit, different smell.

Invaders of the Lost Gold is one of those unique movies that transcends it's simple, cack handed film making roots to become something so much more.

You actually begin to feel sorry for the cast and crew as the film plays out it's threadbare plot, taking the obvious pain and hurt in their eyes as your own, every disappointed glance and hungover action begins to affect you on a personal level, almost as if you been the victim of some cruel crime from which you suffer waking nightmares and flashbacks.

 

"Put it in me!....oh wait somebody already did".

After a gung ho opening that offers us guns, gold and gory cannibal action the film jumps forward in time and grinds to a halt never regaining its momentum as it's unfortunate cast are forced to deliver clichéd line after clichéd line whilst wandering around the directors garden in the vain hope we'll think they're in the jungle.

Minutes of valuable screen time is used showing the cast erecting brightly coloured garden party marquees on freshly cut grass whilst chatting inanely about about the green jungle hell and the dangers therein when (as viewers will testify) the only danger facing anyone is the very real possibility of Stuart Whitman collapsing from too much drink, his puffy red eyes and hideously sun burnt neck reminding one of the old tramp you always find sprawled out in the local kiddies play park on hot summer days.

Arse.

True, there are some scenes of genuine horror in the movie but they're inadvertently the ones where the geriatric and bloated Whitman is giving it full on tongue action with the fresh faced Glynis Barber.

You can almost hear the strain of his trousers as he gets more excited than he has for years (or at least since his last drink) and this image if nothing else will haunt me till the day I die.

Add to that the fact that this was made the same year as Raiders of The Lost Ark and you can be guaranteed a chill down your spine just thinking about it, I mean what was director Alan Birkinshaw on?

Rod Steiger, up the casino, Clackton, 1982.....YESCH.

Whatever it was he must have continued taking them seeing as he followed up this classic with the terrifying straight to video hell that is The Best of Gilbert and Sullivan (featuring one time Master Peter Pratt) and the star studded An Orchestral Tribute to the Beatles (?) before 'modernizing' a couple of Edgar Allen Poe and Agatha Christie stories and redeeming himself with three episodes of the fantastic Gerry Anderson 'cops in space' show Space Precinct.

His last known whereabouts was directing the German Teevee series Die Unbestechliche in 1997.

He's been missing ever since.

It's just a pity this film isn't.

But saying that, if you follow this blog chances are you'll love it.

I know I did.

joe le taxi.

Dario Argento and women in taxis....an ongoing project.

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 93).

Christel Bodenstein, most famous for her portrayal of
the haughty princess in The Singing Ringing Tree.

summer suitcase.

A wee mix of some jaunty pop tunes to keep you going during lockdown.
Now don't say I'm not good to you.

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 92).

First Deputy Director and de facto leader of the Propaganda and Agitation Department of the Workers' Party of Korea, the wonderfully evil librarian-like Kim Yo-jong.

apocalypse sow.

With the Resident Evil 2 Remake released to critical acclaim - well my mate Paul was excited* - across PS4, Xbox One and PC in January 2019 and Resident Evil 8 coming soon(ish) I reckoned it'd be a good time to re-review some of the top quality motion pictures based on that illustrious video game saga.

Plus they've got viruses and stuff in them so they kinda suit the mood.

Have to admit tho' I did pull this one randomly from the boxset (it was a gift honest) so no idea which one this is but I think it's the second - slightly less shitey one.



Resident Evil: Apocalypse (2004)
Dir: Alexander Witt
Cast: Milla Jovovich, Sienna Guillory, Oded Fehr, Iain Glenn, Sandrine Holt, Thomas Kretschmann, Sophie Vavasseur, Razaaq Adoti, Jared Harris, and Mike Epps.

L.J.: [a Zombie walks in front of his car] GTA, Motherfucker!
[he runs over the Zombie, which flips over his car]
L.J.: Yeah! Ten points!

Welcome to Raccoon City, a normal American suburban paradise indistinguishable from any other but for the large amounts of piss stained tramps wandering about trying to bite folk.

Oh yes, and the fact that it looks a wee bit like Canada and also that the bird from The Fifth Element has taken to wandering about the streets wearing a tea-towel as a dress.

So actually nothing like a normal American suburban paradise then?

Well apart from the tramps obviously.

Anyway, while the stinky hobo's are quickly taking over and the towns residents (who surprisingly aren't evil) are desperately trying to leave - or at the very least are desperate to appear in a better film - the local law enforcement (and part time jazz dance crew by the looks of them) are fighting a losing battle to maintain order - and interest - against an overwhelming number of undead gypsies and the directors almost obscene obsession with crash zooming in on ladies underwear as they climb stairs to avoid a nibbling.

If this wasn't enough to put a downer on everyone's week, the evil multinational in charge of the town, the Umbrella corporation has decided to erect large gates at every exit and has taken to machine gunning anyone who gets too close.

Which is a mercy killing really.

Valentine: She loves you not.

The local (and I do mean local) news anchor Terri Morales (turnip nosed, topless star of Rapa Nui and latter day Mr Robot cast member Holt) is bravely (and sweatily) reporting from the front lines.

What she doesn't realize is that Umbrella are blocking the broadcast, effectively cutting Raccoon City off from the outside world.

The swines.

You see, it seems that not only do they own the local secret labs, the pound shop and the bakery but also the news channels too.

Imagine an even more patently bastard Trump empire but with sexier suits and less grating accents.

Oh yes and an ability to say 'China' properly.

Tho' you think she'd have noticed the big, fuck off Umbrella logo on the side of the cameras before now.

Back in town at the local police station, a squad of Raccoon Cities finest are doing their best not to get bitten by stinky zombie prostitutes whilst not spilling their coffees and filing traffic reports but to no avail.

Enter (oh go on, if I must) barely dressed, gun toting tottie Jill Valentine (Guillory from Love Actually and Fortitude), a no nonsense cop, kicked off the force for doing things her way.

Is there any cliche this film wont dig up and parade kicking and screaming in front of us like so gin soaked arthritic relative?

Taking time out from telling everyone to leave whilst walking around with her arse wiggling in the style of a ten year old cross-dressing Chinese boy, Jill shoots an undead hooker in the face and grabs a Snickers bar before heading off to meet up with her better looking (and far better dressed) cop buddy Carlos (the chip pan haired Fehr from, ahem, The Mummy Returns).

Which begs the question as to why she didn't just go and meet up with him in the first place rather than going to the station just to walk straight thru' and leave.

Oh yes, it was so we could all enjoy the long tracking shot of her backside.

My bloody Valentine.

Anyway some more (inconsequential but very loud) shit happens and the pair end up hiding out in a church alongside Terri the reporter and rent an ethnic sidekick Wells (Adoti from Doom - the guy must like his video games, well it's either that or he's got a huge drugs habit to fund) where our fearsome foursome come across a fat vicar and his zombie sister before being attacked by some inconsequential CGI turd-monsters with big tongues.

Slobbering slimy mouth monsters and skimpily dressed heroines?

This is where the movie could get interesting.

But no, given the choice between some girl on monster tentacle sex or having the writers wife smash thru' the window on a motorbike the director goes for the latter.

Yup, it's genetically engineered skinny bird Alice (the monkey faced, boy hipped and high Scrabble scoring Jovovich), fresh from lying strapped to a bed and flashing her smooth milky white thighs and a wee bit of bush (just enough to give the small boys watching something to do with their free hand) at the end of the first movie and ready to kick zombie bum.

Oh, and show her pants a lot.

Jovovich: Water sports.

Meanwhile back at the plot, the evil (yet sexily uniformed) Major Jeff Cain (Kretschmann, that nasty rapist from The Stendhal Syndrome) is busy arguing with the crippled (both physically - I mean he is ginger - and emotionally) genius behind Umbrella's slightly dodgy bio-weapons experiments Dr. Ashford (Harris, who is obviously getting ready to appear in Chernobyl - the miniseries not the actual place that is).

It seems that in the confusion they forgot to evacuate the good doctor's daughter before shutting down the city, mistakenly crashing the car she was in into a wall instead.

Arse.

Well Milla knew exactly who to fuck to get into the picture but who does she have to fuck to get out of it?

Wheeling off in a strop (well in a wheelchair but you know what I mean), Ashford (but alas not Simpson) secretly contacts our merry band of zombie hunters - who've now picked up a wise cracking pimp named LJ ('played' if that's the right word by a shameless Epps) and offers them a safe route out of the city.

But only if they rescue his daughter first....

Seriously, this doesn't deserve art this good.

Jumping the directors ship for the abominable sequel to the lackluster (nah, I'm being polite - that should read utterly shite) Resident Evil, baby faced movie mangler Paul W.S. Anderson handed over the reigns to Alexander Witt.

Lucky fella.

As you may remember, Anderson is the 'genius' behind the brash and ballsy violent violation of Forbidden Planet that was Event Horizon, the fist fuck of a film called Alien Vs. Predator as well as the not too bad (if I'm honest) Mortal Kombat and the Kurt Russell straight to video Blade Runner-baiting abortion Soldier.**

Sorry if I'm bringing back bad memories here but people need reminding of these facts.

"Laugh now!"

So you can only imagine how much of an utter shite-fest this movie is seeing as Anderson quickly booted Witt from the director's chair for the next installment.

Tho' let's be honest, how do you make a totally unwanted and unnecessary sequel to a film that couldn't even be arsed being anything like the video game it was based on in any way halfway decent or indeed watchable?

Give credit where it's due tho', I mean Witt's DP CV is/was certainly impressive (in a mainstream kinda way) and for years previous to this travesty he'd been working alongside Sir Ridley of Scott which you'd think would be pretty good on the job training.

At the very least the film should look nice, not like it was shot thru' a gauze of watered down shite.

Saying that it was 16 years and about 400 sequals ago so some fucker must have liked it.

Which is even scarier a thought when you realise that the next one - the beige hell that was Resident Evil: Extinction - was directed by the uber-permed one-hit wonder Russell (Razorback) Mulcahy.
For those lucky enough to never have seen it, it's less a horror thrill-ride and more a virtual reality trip thru' Simon LeBon's 80s boil wash.

On a brighter note, Alexander Witt's career now seems to consist of making short films for Land Rover which must pay quite well seeing as his last major movie - the Nic Cage starer Red Squad - seems to have vanished into the ether.

Imagine that, a Nic Cage movie too shit to release?

Now if only RE:A was as scary.

"You ain't seen me....right?"

Who stole Milla's leg?

Complete and utter tosh, which has scarily given me a real urge to revisit the rest now.

Is there any hope for me?


















































*So excited in fact that he did a 'mod' of main character Claire Redfield so you can play the entire game with her just wearing her underwear.

Look:

**Scary but true - Soldier which was written by David Peoples, who co-wrote the script for Blade Runner is considered to be an unofficial sequel/prequel to it,

Not only does the film subtlety reference the stories of Philip K. Dick but it also features a Spinner from Blade Runner amongst the background wreckage on the planet.

And if that wasn't enough, Kurt Russell’s character is shown to have fought in the battles referenced in Roy Batty’s (Rutger Hauer) famous monologue - the Shoulder of Orion and Tannhäuser Gate - leading to some film fans to assume that they are, in fact, one in the same character.