spooky scribbles.

Almost finished, just need a video company to use it on The Beyond re-release now.

apocalypse sow.

It's been a long weekend of walkabout ballooning, tidying the scary cupboard, watching that classic Doctor Who story The Keys of Marinus and experiencing the final glut of X Factor auditions which meant that by 11 o'clock Sunday night I was far too knackered (and far too drunk) to switch channels when this beauty turned up on Sci-Fi.

Shockingly I'd managed to avoid it up until then.

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

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

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 everyones 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.

The local (and I do mean local) news anchor Terri Morales (turnip nosed, topless star of Rapa Nui, 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 Rupert Murdoch empire but with sexier suits and less grating accents.

Tho' you think she'd have noticed the big, fuck off 'U' 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 skanky zombie whores 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), a no nonsense, kick arse 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?

Valentine: She loves you not.

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 them 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.

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) our heroic trio 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, 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 should really know better). 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.

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....

Stephen Hawkins arrested for speeding shocker.

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 anal rape 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 abortion Soldier.

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

And scarily he's still allowed to make movies.

On a brighter note, this is (so far) Alexander Witt's only shot at directing a movie and I think you'll agree it takes a special kind of talent to miss the mark so widely.

The scary thing is how?

Witt's DP CV is certainly impressive (in a mainstream kinda way) and for the past 20 years he's 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.

Who stole Milla's leg?

Complete and utter tosh, which has scarily given me a real urge to look out the third film.

Is there any hope for me?

comic relief.

A few more snippets of gory, Eurotrash graphic-ness.

Don't have nightmares.

keychains and snowstorms.

Just back from a busy weekend at Collector-mania whilst laughing at the man trying to sell an uncut copy of the Dutch DVD of Burial Ground for £45.

Big hugs and apologies in advance for the blatant use of the various celebs there to endorse my work.

Enjoy!

banned on the run.

“Unlike other recent torture-themed horror works, such as the Saw and Hostel series, Grotesque features minimal narrative or character development and presents the audience with little more than an unrelenting and escalating scenario of humiliation, brutality and sadism. The chief pleasure on offer seems to be in the spectacle of sadism (including sexual sadism) for its own sake. Rejecting a work outright is a serious matter and the board considered whether the issue could be dealt with through cuts. However, given the unacceptable content featured throughout cutting the work is not a viable option in this case and the work is therefore refused a classification.” - BBFC director David Cooke.


I really have to question the mental well-being of anyone who makes or watches these movies. - Tokyojesusfist, Beyondhollywood website.

Gurotesuku (AKA Grotesque, 2009)
Dir: Kôji Shiraishi.
Cast: Hiroaki Kawatsure, Tsugumi Nagasawa and Shigeo Ôsako.

A young couple (AV star Tsugumi, last seen as the scary lizard arsed lady in Tokyo Gore Police and Hiroaki from OneChanbara and the classic Carved: The Slit-Mouthed Woman) are returning home after a first date when a scary moonfaced mentalist (rubber faced Shigeo from Funuke, Show Me Some Love looking like Takeshi Kitano's more troubled younger brother) wallops the pair over the head with a mallet, chucks them in the back of his van and drives them to his secret lair.

The bemused and battered couple awake to find themselves shackled in a basement and with no forthcoming explanation (as yet) at the mercy of their captor who, dispensing with pleasantries begins to torture, abuse and ultimately mutilate the (up until now) happy couple for the remainder of the films short running time.

"Just a trim madam?"

Luckily the scenes of endless violence, classical music, cream cakes and people wetting themselves are punctuated by flashbacks revealing how the couple met (which is a relief) and before long their crazy captor has opened up to the poor pair and explained why he's being so bad.

It appears that he can only experience sexual stimulation when watching people fight to survive, yup the indomitable human spirit turns him on.

It's a pity then that he's never discovered any Robert Holmes penned Doctor Who stories as he'd probably just have stayed in wanking himself silly as Sir Tom of Baker gives a variety of rousing speeches to various groups of humans under siege rather than kidnapping strangers from underpasses.

"Eye hen!"

With this confession, Mr. demento has a proposition for the couple; if they have enough spirit to make him cum in his pants whilst sticking pins in them or chainsawing various body parts he'll let them go.

If not they'll both die (very slowly and very, very painfully) in his cellar.

"Steven!"

I have no idea where to start when trying to sum up the experience that is Grotesque, whilst certainly not an enjoyable way to spend the evening it is definitely an unforgettable one.

None too surprisingly tho', it's not the characterless 'spectacle of (sexual) sadism' that the BBFC have accused it of being but is in fact, a startling and somewhat moving tale of true, uncorruptable love overcoming adversity and the evils of modern society.

Bandwagon jumping protectors of all we hold dear, alongside various newspapers have gleefully reported stories on how the film revels in a cesspool of misogynistic sexual violence, completely missing the fact that the mad as a lorry Shigeo is determined that neither victim should be favoured, splitting his time equally between both.

Which in this day and age is actually quite polite.

But whilst those who've seen it (and are intelligent enough to see past the violence on show, make a note of this Mr. Cooke and see me after class) can refute the charges of misogyny leveled at the film,they can't deny the fact that Grotesque is possibly the most nihilistic film about love to ever grace the screen, making it's closest relatives, David Lynch's Wild At Heart and Blue Velvet, appear positively anemic in comparison.

To our American cousins, not matter what Fox News
says our National Health Service is nothing like this.

And with a running time of a mere 73 minutes, Grotesque is the last word in cinematic shock, a bizarre and genuinely unnerving film dragged from the so-called 'torture porn' ghetto by it's impressive casting, simple premise and director Kôji Shiraishi's brave decision to make the viewer experience (in unflinching detail) every bit of pain, confusion and humiliation suffered by the unfortunate couple.

Watching for the first time is disorientating, with Shigeo's sick scheme as much of a mystery to us as it is to the people involved but we can only watch in horror, unable to interfere as we slowly become more and more involved in Shigeo's life and the fate of his victims as Shiraishi holds a mirror up to todays news and media's handling of violence in the real world.

Obviously due to Antichrist (bloody hell, I'm obsessed) being released uncut in the UK, the dear old BBFC had to be seen as protecting us from other (less arty) vile movies lest anyone complained about being able to see Charlotte Gainsbourg performing a circumcision on herself in 70mm Dolby surround at the local cineplex and, unfortunately Grotesque just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Ironically just like the movies loved up couple.

But ain't that always the way?

people you fancy but shouldn't (part the 13).

Dot Matrix from Reboot.....

Admit it, you would too.

Feel free to make lewd comments about ugrading her software, plugging her USB port etc.

I know I have.

weans world.

Ah dear old Blighty, land of warm beer, tea, toast and cricket.

And, once upon a time, a place that gave the world some pretty decent horror movies.

Well not any more it seems.

Ladies (I'm assuming at least one reads this) and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for one of the most annoyingly banal (and oh so slightly offensive - but more on that later) films ever made.

I give you....

The Children (2008).
Dir: Tom Shankland.
Cast: Eva Birthistle, Eva Sayer, Jake Hathaway, Jeremy Sheffield, Raffiella Brooks, Stephen Campbell Moore, William Howes, Rachel Shelley and Hannah Tointon.

Where? for lunch?

Smug middle class couple Elaine (square jawed Brit teevee stalwart Birthistle) , her pube bearded rat-like hubbie Jonah (Moore from Ashes To Ashes) and their (fresh out of stage school) children have just arrived at the huge country house owned by Elaine's even more (if that were possible) smug and middle class sister, the spiral permed baggy cardied Chloe (The 'L' Word's Shelley) and her instantly punchable brother-in-law Robbie (chisel of face and flaxen of hair ex Holby City star Sheffield) in order to celebrate New Year together.

But even as they unpack their luggage you can feel the tension in the air between the couples, from Elaine and Jonah obvious resent at not being as annoyingly self centred (or kickable) as Chloe and Robbie, to Elaine's oldest daughter, the Emo-lite Casey (Eve Myles alike Tointon, from the nations favourite Hollyoaks) bitching about having to be there in the first place, slagging off her wee sister Miranda (demon spawn Sayer from Eastenders) and blatantly (and slightly embarrassingly) flirting with 'uncle' Robbie you can tell it's going to be a long weekend.

But surely nothing else could happen to make things any worse could it?

Casey: Niece and easy does it.

Enter Elaine's Autistic son Paulie (Howes) who has no sooner gotten out of the car before he's vomiting melted cheese over the lawn and scaring Chloe's daughter Leah (Brooks) by sitting upright in his bed whilst staring into the middle distance and constantly banging a xylophone.

Because, as we all know that's what Autistic kids do obviously.

I must just point out (jusy in case director Shankland is even now foaming at the mouth as he types a reply) that nowhere in the script is Paulie actually referred to as Autistic, but there's quite a subtle (I'm being ironic) scene when he's brushing his teeth where Chloe asks Elaine if she's "received that article about the MMR jags I sent you?".

The one about AIDS being a gay plague must of gotten lost in the post.

In her defence (well, we all know she'll be dead soon anyway - if we're lucky) Chloe's one of those loud and annoying parents that are far too rich to work and boast about home tutoring their kids, lest they pick up any nasty germs off the commoners. "They're like sponges at this age," she declares, tho' from the looks Robbie has been giving Casey I reckon he's thinking about that phrase in a whole other light.

Dirty old sod.

Elaine, trying to keep everyone happy reckons it's just travel sickness and starts to tank into the wine and fags like nobodies business. The kids are sent to bed and nice uncle Robbie takes Casey into the woods to show her the best place to get a signal om her mobile phone.

Anyone hoping for a wee bit of bare arsed sleazy old man and schoolie goth action at this point will be sorely disappointed seeing as he actually is just showing her the best place to get a signal.

Damn.

"I knew I shouldn't have shampooed
the dog whilst pregnant!"

It comes a no surprise to find that it isn't car-sickness that's affecting Paulie at all but a vomit/airbourne/utter bollocks Autism virus (obviously) that quickly spreads from child to child with alarming speed.

Soon Chloe's kids Leah and Nicky (the freaky Hathaway, who looks for all the world like a dwarf Robin Askwith) are sitting at the dinner table copying Paulie's every move whilst Miranda goes crazy apeshit and slashes Jonah's arm with a bread knife.

Pity it wasn't his throat.

Between the kids screaming, Paulie's xylophone tinkling, Elaine discovering that Casey has a (admittedly tasteful) tattoo of an abortion on her tummy and Jonah whimpering about his sore arm Chloe decides to skip dessert and sends Robbie and the children out to play so she can lord it over her sister.

Keeping his head down, Jonah takes the still nutty Miranda up to her room to calm her with a wee bit of Mandarin (the language not the fruit).

"Cor blimey! if I'm caught with me
trousers down again the boss'll kill me!"

Just as you're about to give up hope of anything remotely interesting happening the killing finally start.

And from there on in it's the same middle class bleating and whining as in the first half of the movie but now with sporadic bursts of violence as the children (hey! that's the films title! clever eh?) embark on an anarchistic Autistic killer rampage....

Will any of the adults survive?

And, if we're honest, does anyone (except the directors mum) really give a fuck?

If anyone in this movie
deserves a mooth shite-in...

Where do you start with a film as painfully awful, criminally lazy and downright annoying as The Children?

Well, you can begin with Shankland's press junket quote about how, although a horror film at heart it deals with 'the sort of problems that affect every family' if you want a laugh.

Yup, most families I know are mainly worried about investing in Chinese medicines whilst smoking hash in their giant greenhouses in the grounds of their huge mansions.

Oh and the ones I do know affected by Autism (well, the intelligent ones) would hit the roof if any started on about the old MMR lie, especially if it were a sibling or someone close.

Reviewers that have mentioned the films use of Autism has pointed out (as I did myself earlier) that it's never expressly stated that Paulie is indeed on the Spectrum and it shouldn't matter if he is or not.

If that's the case then why bother at all? Wouldn't it be better to just have him Neuro Typical rather than a sketchy, Daily Mail caricature of someone with ASD?

Rant over and back to the film in general.

Watch out watch out John Leslie's about!

The biggest problem tho' is beneath the God awful plotting, piss poor acting and choppy editing there appears to be a not too bad idea for a movie desperately trying to claw it's way out. The photography is top notch, making the best of the cold harshness of the winter landscapes and the minimalist score is perfect.

Just a pity the rest of it is so arse clenchingly abysmal, showing once and for all that the glory days of Frightmare, The Wicker Man and their ilk are far behind us. Hopefully one day we'll be able to produce a British horror movie to make us proud once more (cos let's be honest, we can't keep relying on Neil Marshall to keep the torch burning, we'll end up working him to death before he's 50).

But whilst shite like this is getting greenlit I doubt it somehow, I'm surprised that Pete Walker isn't spinning in his grave.

And he's not even dead.

But if he does kick the bucket over the next few months we all know who to blame.