skulking around.

Day 27 of the 31 days of horror and I've run out of witty things to say.

That'll explain why this review is so short then.

No doubt you'll be grateful for small mercies.

Normal 'mooth-shite in' will be resumed tomorrow.

Army of The Dead (2008).
Dir: Joseph Conti.
Cast: Ross Kelly, Stephanie Marchese, Miguel Martinez, Mike Hatfield, Audrey Anderson, Vic Browder, Jocelyn Tucker and some skeletons.

The year is 1590 and a (very) small group of conquistadors lost on their way back from bingo have found themselves wandering aimlessly thru' a never ending series of plaster caves in the vague hope of finding a taxi rank.

Unfortunately they only have a couple of quid left so it's quite fortuitous when the conquistador leader Chaz finds a pile of gold coins in the corner.

Unfortunately it turns out that these are scary cursed gold coins that cause the stars in the sky turn black and the moon to turn blood red.

Which is nice.

If that wasn't enough to cause a spike in viewer incontinence then the appearance of a group of GCI-ed skeletons wielding children's toy swords and screaming for blood may be responsible for a few loose stools at a later date.

"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAANNGGEERRSSS!!!!"

Meanwhile in the present day, the movies square jawed hero ex_England player and rapper, John Barnes (The Stink of Flesh's Kelly, a kind of low rent Chris Pine but with the hint of a man haunted by past indiscretions) and his foxy wife Amy (kissy lipped and tustle haired Marchesi) are celebrating John's birthday with a weekend of off-road fun in some pimped up VW’s.

Also along for the ride is his instantly forgettable pal (we'll call him Jeff), his drunken ex-girlfriend Jenny (Anderson but not the one from The X Files), another couple I'd actually forgotten about till I watched the credits and his old university professor Gordon Vasquez (Martinez from Klown Kamp Massacre and your Mum's bed).

Undead skeletons on the rampage? Well don't expect this guy, the movie's too cheap even for him.

But wouldn't you know it, the professor has an altogether more sinister agenda, one that  involves the cursed gold, a couple of incompetent mercenaries and a variety of ill-fitting combat trousers.

Suffice to say that as soon as he finds the coins the skeletons once again rise and start committing acts of bloodied and bony mayhem.

Who saw that coming?

"OK everyone.....LOOK AT THE DOG!"

But it's not only the professor, his beard and his gung ho hired hands that are in the skeletons sights seeing as John and his pals seem to think that a wee bit of Aztec gold might come in handy down the line...

Insert cock here.

With a budget less than the amount it takes to get your sister drunk and with a price tag of a quid from your friendly neighbourhood Poundland, how could you possibly slag off Joseph Conti's CGI shite fest?

Well for a start the acting ranges from serviceable to sodden, there's way too much time taken up with footage of steroid-strapped VW's cruising around the desert, it features one of the most abysmal beards ever to grace the screen and there's a distinct lack of nudity.

But we're here for the skeletons right?

And surprisingly they're not too shady, fairly scary and almost indestructible.

Their only weakness?

A giant Tesla coil.

Ahem, quite.

Well what did you expect for a pound?

Jason and The Argonauts?

nicked cave.

Day 26 of the infamous Arena 31 days of horror 'celebration' and today we're visiting the....

Cave of The Living Dead (AKA Night of The Vampires. 1964).
Dir: Ákos Ráthonyi.
Cast: Adrian Hoven, Erika Remberg, Carl Möhner, Wolfgang Preiss, Vida Juvan and Karin Field.

Beyond the black mouth of the cursed cave lurked the unfleshed...

Somewhere in the seedy side of downtown Europe, full-time slick haired sex God and part-time trench coat wearing copper Frank Dorin (German superstar Hoven AKA Wilhelm Arpad Peter Hofkirchner of Berlin Alexanderplatz fame) is enjoying a rare night off from fighting crime by getting rat-arsed in his local bar.

But his perfect evening of letching over a variety of mini-skirted totty, refusing to answer the phone and staring at the waitresses ample chest is cut short by the arrival of a couple of felt hatted Interpol types, the like of which is usually only found hanging around school gates or bins.

It seems that Chief Constable Shirley has a case so baffling that only Dorin can solve it.

Obviously PC Plumb is busy.

It appears that there have been a series of bizarre killings in a remote village where six women - all aged between 18 and 22 - have died in as many months with no sign of foul play or rudeness.

If this wasn't mysterious enough tho' it seems that for an hour during each of the killings the entire villages electricity supply cuts off.

The authorities needless to say are baffled.

Dorin tho', is intrigued.

And not a little aroused.

"I'm shagging your weans!"

Shirley (for no discernible reason) thinks the events may be linked to the famous grotto near the village, so Frank armed with a state of the art (for 1940) infra-red viewer and official looking "I'm a detective" papers to impress the local police with , heads off to investigate.

Meanwhile at the village inn, the portly and pervy innkeeper Stefan Dennis is desperately trying to persuade local inbred dairymaid  Maria (So Much Naked Tenderness and Circus of Horrors star Remberg) to let him put it in her.

With his chubby little sausage fingers pawing her lithe young body (whilst his even chubbier penis strains to be unleashed) Stefan accidentally breaks the chain holding the crucifix round her neck causing her to come to her senses and trot off to bed alone leaving a by now ferociously aroused Stefan to take solace in his glass of home-made wine and the sweet caress of mother fist and her five beautiful daughters.

A situation that readers of this blog probably find themselves in every Saturday night.

Erika Remberg: Your granddad did. Twice.

Arriving at the outskirts of the village Frank is disturbed to find the radio and engine suddenly cut out in his car and when he gets out to investigate, his torch also stops working.

That'll be the pre-murder blackout then.

Frank is approached from behind and quickly pulls out his weapon threatening to fire it's load in the strangers face but soon offers to point it elsewhere when he realizes that his assailant is a beautiful woman.

Karin (Field from Lo strangolatore di Vienna AKA The Mad Butcher) - for that is her name - explains that she's out for her nightly walk after a hard day assisting the famous Professor of sciencey stuff, Terry von Adelsberg ( War and Remembrance's Field Marshal von Brauchitsch himself, Preiss) up at the local haunted castle.

Which is fair enough I guess.

"Pull my finger!"

Being the friendly type she offers to show Frank the way to the inn where, at that very moment what looks like a modern shadow dance is taking place outside Maria's window.

You may have noticed that there's a fair bit going on here.

It's like about six different movies crammed into one, I mean I've written all this stuff down whilst I was watching and I'm still confused.

Anyway back to the plot where Frank after finally arriving at the inn, almost immediately strikes up conversation with fellow skirt-chaser Stefan, who regales our shiny-haired stud with spooky tales of the grotto which, according to local legend is haunted by vampires and, more importantly, which of the local girls are clean of yeast infections.

Leaving the men to their sex chat Karin heads back to the castle, followed from a distance by the local sex offender and deaf tramp Thomas (Schrenk, best known to readers of this blog as Hauptwachtmeister Schulz in the 08/15 saga probably), who is luckily - for Karin - frightened away by the sight of the castle's butler John (Dr. No's Quarrel himself, Kitzmiller), who kindly waits for Karin every night to make sure she's home safe.

Well it's that or he's waiting for the night that Thomas actually catches her, either way it works for me.

Thomas meanwhile, annoyed at having nothing to violate, makes do with stealing Frank's infra red viewer and pajamas from the abandoned car.

Beware The ghost of Jimmy Savile!"

Awoken by a frantic knocking at the door and an uncomfortable stiff patch in his underwear, Frank is surprised to see the police burst in with their shiny smooth pistols in hand.

Obviously upset at not being invited to the macho meeting and in an attempt to claw back his position as coolest muthafucka in the room, Frank knocks the gun from a constable’s hand before whipping out his own much larger weapon and finally forcing them to read his official papers.

What a guy.

It appears that Maria has died of heart failure exactly like the other girls, which would be fair enough if it weren't for the two big teeth marks on her neck but the local doctor (Sink the Bismarck! star Möhner) dismisses them as superficial scratches caused by a small rodent or dog.

Frank is not convince and, at Stefan’s behest, heads off to visit the village's resident witch, Nanny (Juvan, famous for he stand-out role of Lajhovka in the 1952 classic Svet na kajzarju) at her usual hang out behind the bins. 

Lighting a fire and being careful not to stand on her own nipples, Nanny recounts the terrifying tale of the local vampires as images of cut-price dancing girls flicker in the flames.

According to our toothless chum the local populace, annoyed at getting bitten in the night, trapped the bloodsuckers in the grotto over 200 years ago using a gypsy curse but, as is the way with anything purchased from a pikey it didn't go completely to plan meaning that the vicious vamps can still leave the cave if they get bored, need shopping etc.

Luckily tho' they can only do this at the stroke of midnight and for only for 59 minutes.

And with that she pops a cross round Frank's neck and gives him a small vial of herbs that, if rubbed over a fresh vampire bite, can restore a victim to humanity.

This may come in useful later.

"Have you tried lying on it first? Then you can pretend it's your mum doing it!"

Heading back to the inn Frank comes across - again, not in that way -  John out walking his dog who politely invites him back for tea and crumpets.

Our cool copper realizing that he's not investigated this bit of the plot yet happily accepts the offer and the pair (plus dog) make their way up the twisty turny road to the castle and maybe even a glimpse into the professor's secret experiments.

Or, if Frank is really lucky, a glimpse at Karin's milky white thighs.

We live in hope.

Chatting stiltedly with the Prof. (who as it happens doesn't like mirrors or garlic...suspicious eh?) Frank discovers that the old boy actually owns the property and moved back to town 6 months previously for a quieter place to do his research.

Research, he stresses that has no involvement whatsoever with vampires, blood or the grotto.

Especially not the grotto.

No sir.

And with this Frank decides to check out the grotto.

"I'll admit that setting fire to your cock is a pretty good trick but what do you do for an encore?"

On route John steps out of the shadows and offers to go with him (tho' how he got so far ahead when there was washing up to do is a mystery never explained) so the intrepid pair head ever closer to their destination.

Back at the castle and by some bizarre psychic power (or convenient plot contrivance) the Professor realizes that John has accompanied Frank and therefore put himself in mortal danger.

I mean who else but the manservant is going to polish off the Prof. on those cold winter mornings?

Well since your sister got that Saturday job anyway.

Entering a cupboard off the dinning room and carrying a cheaply made Voodoo doll Prof von Adelsberg attempts to communicate with his butler.

Or is that Stan Butler from On The Buses?

Who knows because we're back at the grotto being treated to so oh so funny comedy dialogue involving John wondering aloud if the vampires "like the black folk with their black blood....cos the villagers sure don't Meessa Dorin!" before saving Frank from a falling stalactite.

 Frank smiles and replies "I don't know John but I sure don't mind your black skin!"

This scene plays out in such a bizarre and uncomfortable way, mainly due to the fact that you can't decide whether the writer/dubber is trying to bring a wee bit of cultural  diversity to the movie, or if our up until now heterosexual hero has turned gay by the sight of John rippling muscled form.

But frankly who wouldn't?

He's probably the best (and not to say cleanest) ride in the town.

Taking of rides, on the way back to the castle Frank decides to go and look in on Maria’s body, figuring that if she's not too putrid he could at least try to vent his sexual frustrations on her.

Or possibly in her.

Looking down at her pale sallow skin he suddenly comes to the conclusion that victims of heart attacks don't usually look like they've been drained of blood and hurriedly rushes off to find the doctor.

As he leaves the room tho' Maria begins to slowly breathe before opening her eyes and smiling revealing sharp pointy fangs.

"Look Maria! Quit moving your head or you gonna end up with your hair full of muck...again!"

But when he returns with the doctor in order to take a blood sample, Maria has vanished.
Frank decides that now is the time to discuss the case with another professional, but seeing as neither Bodie - due to being dead - or the one with the girls hair is available has to settle on the doctor.

I mean come on it's not like they can afford to pay the cast they have let alone hire even more folk.

Calmly explaining about the Professors experiments, the vampires and all that other spooky stuff that's been happening in the village and after a slight pause to rub his chin, he patiently awaits the doctor opinion.

Which is that it's all bollocks and there is in fact a mental  murderer running about.

A murderer whose M.O. is to steal the bodies before they can be used to gather evidence.

Laugh now!

With no-one left to turn to except Nanny and with an underlying feeling that the Professor maybe lying about the not being a vampire, Frank asks the old dear for some bloodsucker slaying tips.

Nanny explains that a stake through the heart or three strikes to the chest with a  mallet (?) will destroy a vampire but you must kill the leader in order to kill his minions.

Scribbling all this onto the back of a fag packet our courageous copper heads back to the castle to stop the vampire menace once and for all.

Or something.

To be honest I'm not quite sure.

Coming across like the back street birthed bastard offspring of Twin Peaks and Balamory directed by a Parkinson's riddled, wooden spoon-handed 4 year old, Cave of The Living Dead is at once a work of sheer unhinged genius and utter shite.

Everything is mishandled, from the sexy jazz score to the misjudged sexual humour whilst the erstwhile Adrian Hoven appears to be channeling Carry On star Jim Dale in his portrayal of the allegedly super suave, super cool Frank Dorin, eventually coming across as more of a low rent fanny obsessed Frank Spencer than a wise cracking womanizing detective.

But if I was feeling kind I could point out that this might be in some small part due to the cack handed dubbing and poorly translated dialogue.

Then you turn the sound down and watch Hoven's fantastic comedy eyebrow acting in the opening scenes as he subtly tries to get a girls attention.

He'd be more subtle if he just got his cock out and slapped it on the table.

"Hey...do you say mouse-shite-in?"

That said there is something reassuringly oddball about the whole proceedings and it does feature the yumsome Karin Field, looking for all the world like a bustier, more Aryan Noomi Rapace and despite throwing in enough (obvious) red herrings to fill the EU fishing quota for about 6 years - especially when the villain's identity is obvious from the start - it still merrily jogs along at it's own club footed pace, oblivious to any criticism along the way.

 Which is kinda sweet.

No atmosphere, no tension and no mercy but just like your best friends old, saggy breasted drunken auntie it seduces you into staying the course.

And although you hate yourself for admitting it, it's not that bad a ride.

And under the right circumstances you'd do it again.

You filthy, filthy people.

boys will be boys.

What would 31 days of horror be without at least one movie featuring William Shatner?

Don't answer that.

The Devil’s Rain (1975).
Dir: Robert Fuest.
Cast: William Shatner, Tom Skerritt, Ernest Borgnine, Joan Prather, Eddie Albert, Ida Lupino, Keenan Wynn, John Travolta and Anton LaVey.

"Corbis, you want the Devil's Rain, I want Tom & Julie Preston. I do not underestimate your powers, nor do I overestimate them".

Ladies and gentlemen let me introduce to you the Preston's.

They make look like an ordinary family (albeit one obsessed with lumberjack shirts) but behind their normal facade lies a dark secret.

And it's not that one of them was lead singer with The Ordinary Boys and married minor celebrity cum-bucket Chantelle Houghton for 15 minutes either.

Oh no, it's much worse than that.

Some ordinary boys yesterday.

You see the poor family have been cursed for all eternity by the potato faced Satanic high priest John Corbis (the legendary Borgnine).

Yup, it seems that generations ago the Preston family were members of Corbis' Satanic church but after deciding that virgin killing and goat shagging wasn't for them, they stole his magic book and sold him out to the Christians.

Since then a never ageing Corbis has vowed revenge.

Which kinda makes you wonder what he's been up to the last hundred odd years seeing as he only lives about ten minutes away.

Perhaps he's been redecorating his church?

"I wish I knew how to quit you Bill."

Luckily for the film viewing public Corbis has chosen this very night to begin his plan of action, firstly he jinxes Samuel Preston's first solo single "Dressed To Kill" so that it fails to chart before kidnapping Dad Preston for a wee bit of terrible torture, finally letting Dad escape in order to warn his wife and young(er) son about the true extent of Corbis' wrath.

"Give Corbis the book" gurgles bubbly Dad "Or all will suffer!"

And then, as if to hammer home the point he proceeds to melt into a pile of wax before his families very eyes.

That's not all tho' as for a final trick Corbis kidnaps dear old Mum.

"Shite in mah mooooooooooooooth!"

Finally having enough of Corbis' constant curses (which actually would make a great teevee show, Channel 5 take note) and with no-one to cook him dinner, the aforementioned son Mark (Shatner, nuff said) takes the book to Corbis in the hope of defeating him.

Well c'mon, it is Shatner.

After what seems like eight hours of desert driving scenes the pair eventually meet up in a ghost town in the desert, and in a scene of such homo-erotic power as the world has ever seen, Corbis cheekily offers Preston a drink of hand pumped water from his old water spout.

Phwoar.

Shatner takes a huge gulp then spits it out, proclaiming the water to be too salty or something.

Corbin gives a cheeky grin and replies, "Sweet way to end a thirst, though." before pulling out his massive horse cock and challenging The Shat to a sword fight in the directors mouth.

Probably.

Nope sorry, I must have fallen asleep and imagined that cos what actually happens isn't half as interesting; Preston talks about God, Corbis talks about the Devil and finally Preston challenges Corbis to a battle of faith whilst waving a gun about.

Ho hum.

"Now you stop thinking about shooting dat bad man and just think about shooting onto my tits instead!"

Being a polite kinda Satanist, Corbis invites Preston to join him for morning worship which if I'm honest Preston seems to be enjoying until that is his mum turns up with a face like a bag of spuds and big black holes where her eyes should be.

It's at this point that poor old Preston starts shouting Holy stuff whilst shooting the place up like a disgruntled, beer-bellied post-election Trump supporter.

Look, you know it's going to happen.

Corbis follows our hero outside asking, "Is that your faith?" before turning Preston's ginormous gold Godly medallion into a snake.

Shitting himself at such a long slimy thing being so close to his mouth, Preston throws it away before being promptly captured by a gang of hooded hoodlums.

"If you're scared now just wait til the fucking starts!" whispers Corbis.

I imagine.

"And remember guys for the best results this one's for her arse and the others for her fanny....now get fiddling!"

Meanwhile in a big city, Preston's scientist older brother, Tom (Skerritt channelling early seventies George Harrison) and his insectoid wife Julie (Big Bad Mama's Prather) have just received word that Mark has gone missing and decide - with top psychotherapist Dr. Sam Richards (Albert) in tow - to go look for him.

And then some excitingly scary stuff happens possibly.

I say possibly cos I fell asleep only to be rudely awakened by the booming sound of thunder on the soundtrack, falling off the sofa to be confronted by the image of Ernest Borgnine transforming into a silver wigged goat whilst a topless, sweat covered former starship captain, his man-breasts undulating softly in the wind, wriggles suggestively on an inverted cross.

I've not been right since.

William Shatner's cum face yesterday (go on, ask your mum).

Meanwhile Tom, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, is watching all this from behind an old piano only to be discovered by one of the Satanists who've sneaked off for a pee.

Legging it towards the church (which surprisingly isn’t being used for the ceremony - perhaps the new paint isn't dry yet) Tom meets up with (an until now useless) Richards (no idea where he's been, probably looking to punch fuck out of his agent for agreeing to him appearing in this shite) and begins to rummage thru' Corbis' dusty drawers.

Beside the ancient issues of Razzle, fluff covered mints, a crusty sock and old VHS copies of McHale's Navy our terrific twosome come across a porcelain chamber alleged to contain the souls of Corbis' followers and the secret of his powers.

And the name of this pot?

The Devil's Rain.

Clever eh?

"Laugh now".

There's no time for celebration tho' as crazy Corbis and his sinister Satanists have tracked Tom and Sam back to the church, threatening all manner of vile torturers if they don't hand over the paranormal pot.

Luckily Richards, being a man of science, reckons all these goat headed goings on are utter bollocks and quite calmly smashes the pot causes all of Corbis' followers to melt in the ensuing rain storm.

Thank fuck the Devil never set up base in Glasgow, the poor bastard would never have been able to leave the house.

"I can see your house from here Peter!"

As Sam and Tom beat a hasty retreat thru' sticky remains of Corbis' followers, our moustachioed hero notices his wife standing in the distance (I think she might have been captured at some point) ands runs to embrace her.

As the pair hold each other we (the audience, well the ones still awake) realize that Tom is in reality hugging Corbis.

Yup, the evil fella has swapped bodies with Julie, whose soul he has trapped within a new improved paranormal pot.

On a downside it does mean that until his strength has returned, Ernest Borgnine is going to get roughly shagged by Tom Skerritt on a daily basis.

Hang on, did I say downside?

Best remembered for totally destroying the film career of ace director Fuest (the man who gave us  The Abominable Dr. Phibes, Dr. Phibes Rises Again and The Final Programme), The Devil's Rain suffered from such a critical mauling that Fuest was immediately placed on the top of the FBI's most wanted list and his family imprisoned.

The story doesn't end there tho', for after years of living in exile on the isle of Shetland (eking out a pittance making dire teevee fodder) he was ordered to direct the soft core stinker Aphrodite (1982), a movie that's only memorable feature was it's lead actress, Valérie Kaprisky's massive bush.*

Kaprisky: hairy minge.

It's not all bad tho' as not only do we do get to see a pre-Trek comeback Bill Shatner topless but also get to experience the joy of watching a young John Travolta being seduced by an evil cult from which he can't escape.

Something that wouldn't happen in real life obviously.

But with it's (probably) unintentional homo-erotic subplot, scenes of Mexican extras covered in chip fat in an attempt to make them look melty, a constantly angry Tom Skerritt (remember he chose to do this yet almost knocked back Alien)  and the sight of a shirtless Captain Kirk being tongued by an almost mummified Ida Lupino, The Devil's Rain has something for everyone.

If that person is criminally insane with no self worth obviously.
























*Due to the fact she was an avid - and award winning amateur gardener in her spare time.

mum's the word.

It's day 24 of 31 days of horror and I've suddenly realized that I've not covered any babysitters in peril yet.

Actually I've not covered any babysitters in anything for years.

Tho' I've always said I'd make an exception for Nancy Loomis in Halloween.

Or just Nancy Loomis in general if I'm honest.

 

Loomis....no reason other than she's absolutely lovely.

Babysitter Wanted (2008).

Dir: Jonas Barnes and Michael Manasseri.
Cast: Sarah Thompson, Matt Dallas, Bill Moseley, Bruce Thomas, Nana Visitor, Monty Bane and Kai Caster.

Hungry!

The sensibly shoed and incredibly cute Christian college newbie Angie Albright (Thompson from teevee's Angel) is leaving home - and her God bothering mum - for the first time ever in order to study art history at the community college in the next town.

Excitedly setting off on her long car journey to freedom she's soon hit by a wave of disappointment when upon arriving at her new digs she discovers that her roommate is a short-skirted stoner, the floor is covered in a scary mix of egg, sweat and semen stains and that someone has sold her bed.

Oh and less importantly local girls have been going missing.

But at least she still has the Lord.

And a really peachy arse if I'm totally honest so it's not all bad.

She might be sleeping now but just wait till the communion starts.

After a long hard chat to Jesus, our holy heroine decides to get a job to pay for a new bed and lo and behold there just happens to be a babysitting position advertised on the college notice board.

What are the chances eh?

Unfortunately tho' Angie can't get to excited seeing as it appears that she's being stalked around campus by a tall woolly hatted man in scruffy work boots with an uncanny (and frankly unnerving) ability to make art history slide show pictures appear on his face at random.

Which if nothing else should secure him a spot on the Britain's Got Talent finals.

Or at the very least in your mums bed.

Tho' just being male with a pulse should do that.

At least that's what your Uncle Ted said.

Laugh now!

Luckily she's got a new friend to chat to about it, the cool Catholic hunk Rick (Kyle XY star and former 80's super soap Dallas) whom she keeps bumping into around campus.

When he's not skulking around confessional boxes that is.

After a quick phone call and a couple of Hail Mary's Angie drives out to meet the couple in need of a sitter; the farm-working and plaid loving Stanton's (Birds of Prey's Batman himself Thomas and Dead Zone regular, one-time Ms. USA and former Bond Dalton) along with their girlie haired cowboy obsessed son, the monosyllabic Sam (pretty lipped Caster last seen in Children of the Corn: Genesis, tho' that isn't really his fault).

Chatting to Mrs Stanton whilst enjoying a glass of homemade lemonade, Angie weighs up the pros and cons of the job (Pros: it pays well, cons: Sam's a freak and the house is in the middle of nowhere) before deciding to take it.

I mean what's the worse thing that could happen?

"You're my favourite Deputy....of love!"

On returning to her room Angie's mood is dampened a little when she finds someone has helpfully stuck pictures of the missing local girls to her dorm door leaving her no choice but to whine at Rick (who just happened to be passing) for a bit before heading to see the local sheriff (genre god Moseley in a scene stealing cameo) who assures her that everything is fine.

But if by some strange quirk of fate a mad mentalist does try to kill her he suggests that she should call him.

Which is nice.

The Amanda Knox bikestand was sure to be a big hit this coming Christmas.

The babysitting day soon comes around and wouldn't you know it Angie's car has broken down but never fear as Jack of all trades Rick is here to save the day, not only offering to spend his Saturday night fiddling with her tubes and pumping her engine but also promising to take her over to the Stanton's house too.

Obviously this does mean that if there is someone stalking our gospel lovin' gal and he does strike tonight that she's stuck in the middle of nowhere alone.

Well alone apart from sinister Sam who just happens to be the freakiest movie child this side of Tommy in Manhattan Baby.

I mean not content with wandering silently round the house like some mini Woody sex doll the little sod insists on eating only raw meat.

Without a fork.

How common.

"Hey kids! Let's round up a posse and have ourselves a spit roast!"

Everything is going smoothly (well for about 10 minutes, the movie's not that long, it only feels it) until Angie begins to hear noises from upstairs and banging at the front door.

Luckily the suspense is soon broken by Sam who wakes up mumbling "I'm hungry" before helping himself to some of the aforementioned meaty bits left in a bowl by the door before promptly running away leaving an oh so slightly panicking Angie torn between trying to find him, cleaning up the blood from the kitchen floor and avoiding the big bald fucker with the knife who's suddenly appeared from nowhere and is currently skulking about the porch.

Kids eh?

So who is the mysterious stalker?

Will Rick fix Angie's car?

And what has Sam been asked to "keep under his hat?"

From the former personal assistant to Neal H. Moritz on such hits as Fast & The Furious, SWAT and 2 Fast 2 Furious via a breakthru performance as the scary Irish Henchman in Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle, writer/director Jonas Barnes and fresh-faced actor turned director Michael Manasseri comes this charming if lightweight addition to the babysitter botherer genre.

And frankly it's not too shady at all.

Suffering somewhat from being released around the same time as Ti West's modern day classic The House of The Devil, Babysitter Wanted, after a fairly serious pre-credit murder plays out the rest of the plot with a slightly more tongue in cheek feel, more Tales of The Unexpected than Hammer House of Horror with it's heady mix of horror clichés and instantly recognizable ciphers, all lovingly crafted into an obvious homage to a genre the pair obviously love.

Either that or I'm getting to a point where I've watched so much shite this month that as soon as something non offensive and halfway decent comes along I'm that relieved that I try to marry it.

Only time, and my analyst truly knows the answer to that.

How I met your mother.

Yes I know bits of it made no sense and it's about 20 minutes too long but it's heart was in the right place.

Plus it boasts a really good cast, led by the yummily librarian-like Sarah Thompson; all big eyes and tight sweaters whilst both Bruce Thomas and Kristen Dalton are equally as lovable as the friendly farm folk in need of a sitter for scary Sam.

Thompson: luscious librarian love.

Which brings me to Kai Caster, who with the face of an angel, the lips of a Parisian whore and the haircut of '80's horror legend Giovanni Frezza is destined to go far.

Even further if his folks keep their food bins at the bottom of the yard unlocked.

It's inoffensive, it's harmless and it features Bill Moseley in a rare 'nice guy' role and a bowl haired wee boy chewing lumps of flesh like his life depended on it.

You could do worse.

tall in the saddle.

2016 has been an utter cunt of a year so far....now we've had Steve Dillon taken from us.

Fucking gutted.

river deep, mountain eye (son).

Just got in after a terrific night seeing the genius that is John Carpenter live in good olde Edinburgh town and remembered I'm still doing that whole 31 days of horror nonsense.

Nothing like a huge comedown is there?

So it's 3 in the morning and I've decided to do the first movie that comes to hand, luckily it's not too long so I can go to my bed soon.

The Trollenberg Terror (AKA The Crawling Eye, Creature from Another World, The Creeping Eye, The Flying Eye. 1958).
Dir: Quentin Lawrence.
Cast: Forrest Tucker, Laurence Payne, Jennifer Jayne, Janet Munro, Warren Mitchell, Frederick Schiller, Andrew Faulds, Stuart Saunders

"Cute little things, aren't they?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna throw a bomb at that one. 

You watch on the screen, see what happens".

Enjoying a week of mountain climbing, tea-bagging and forced buggery before heading back to university, three studenty types, clad in children's hats and a collection of second hand overcoats are attempting to scale the north face of Mount Trollenberg in Switzerland (or more realistically a painted and polystyrene effigy of it hastily constructed on the backlot at the world famous Eros Studios, Darlington).

Everything is going swimmingly (or climbingly if you like) until the slick-haired  Toby Deadsoon - the lead climber who's decided to forge ahead onto the next ledge - gives out a terrible shriek before going limper than his nearest colleges wrist and toppling of the mountain.


Realizing that he has the hotel room keys one of his companions attempts to drag him back up the cliff-face but soon recoils in horror when he notices that the poor sods head has been torn straight off.

Blimey.

A painting of a mountain yesterday.

Meanwhile world famous mind reading cabaret stars The Pilgrim Sisters are halfway to Geneva and the start of a much needed holiday.

Obviously bored with watching the same bit of grainy footage go past the window time and again, older sister Sarah (the sternly teacher-like Jayne from Doctor Terror's House of Horrors) decides to cheer herself up by flirting outrageously with their fellow passenger, American 'investigator of the strange', the demi-waved sex god  Alan Brooks (the 'original' Ghostbusters Jake Kong himself, Tucker).

Sexy younger sister Anne (yummy Munro, Disney's very own Katie O'Gill and the girl who fueled my teenage sweaty girl fantasies in The Day The Earth Caught Fire)), jealous of her sibling getting all the attention faints on Brooks' lap as they pass Trollenberg Mountain before starting to drunkenly rant about the recent deaths that occurred there and how she must visit.

Creepy.

Tho' not as creepy as the sight of an old mans visible erection forcing itself against his trousers as a girl young enough to be his granddaughter lies prone on his lap.

Luckily Alan is heading to that very place to meet up with his old pal Professor Chris Crevett (Mitchell with an abysmal comedy foreigner voice) and offers to get them cheap rooms at the local (only?) hotel.

What a kind gent.

Well it's either that or he fancies a wee bit of young fluff.

You decide.

"You're 14? So am I! Now get your webcam on and your clothes off!"

Heading to the hotel to change into a sexier sports jacket before meeting the professor,  Big Al is introduced to a fellow guest, the proto-Marc Almond (in a good way) Philip Truscott (Doctor Who's Payne) who attempts to ingratiate himself with Brooks by following him into his room and fondling his baggage before sneaking off to make a phone call to his boss in order to get every last bit of info on our hero (that's Brooks by the way in case you hadn't figured it out).

Must be an English thing.

Discovering his room has no drinks cabinet (or a porn channel), Alan makes a trip to the hotel bar to get a quick drink and to check out the competition, breathing a sigh of relief when he realizes that besides himself and Truscott the only other guests are a fat geologist named Dewhurst (the sweaty pedo-like Saunders) and his overtly fey climbing partner Brett (Faulds).

This unlikely pair are about to climb Trollenberg to see if unsettled geological plates are to blame for the numerous accidents on the mountain.

Or so they claim but I'm sure that by the way they keep looking at each other Dewhurst just fancies a wee bit of rough.

But then again don't we all occasionally?

Heid in mah sack!

Brooks, hoping to show the Pilgrim sisters he's a modern guy who's comfortable with his sexuality joins the pair in the cable-car on his way to visit Crevett's high tech (if MDF and cardboard were state of the art) - and top secret - Observatory.

I have to interrupt this frankly magnificent synopsis now to point out that never before in my years of watching sinematic shite have I ever witnessed such a blatant disregard for security than here, I mean for a special and secret project the white coated scientists on show must be the most unobservant people ever.

Characters, whether they be normal humans, possessed killers or even giant eyeballs wander in and out of this top secret facility without so much as a raised eyebrow or a hello.

Sorry, rant over.

Now back to the plot. 

Crevett, overly excited about finally having something to do that doesn't include pushing chunky buttons whilst chewing on a pencil is more than happy to fill Alan in (ooeer) on all the recent gory happenings.

Which is great for the viewer cos it means we can finally get the story moving.

It seems that despite the frightening amount of accidents that take place on the mountain that there are never any bodies found and, if that wasn't enough there's a spooky radioactive cloud that sits menacingly on Trollenberg's south side.

Brooks looks stunned (or he may have just passed a kidney stone) remarking how similar the situation is to something that occurred in the Andes three years earlier that he blamed on aliens attempting to rarefy mist.

As you would.

Unfortunately by the time he'd reported it to the UN's special alien defense league these extraterrestrial visitors had gone home, leaving Brooks looking like a bit of a tit.

So you can see why he's a wee bit nervous about calling them up again without at least a smidgen of evidence.

Fuck the alien-influenced plot tho' what this movie needs is more scenes of folk drinking in a hotel bar.

"Is it really meant to bend in the middle like that?"

And that's just what we get as Brooks invites Crevett back to the hotel for drinks and a chance to check out the talent.

But it's not all drinking for drinkings sake as everyone is soon celebrating the fact that the sisters have offered to put on a private show in the bar.

Don't get your hopes up too much tho' because as a deflated Brooks discovers it's of their mind reading act and not a free for all bukaki bash.

The event starts off with a bang as Anne correctly recognizes Truscott's Fleshlight and Crevett's false teeth before taking a sinister turn when she starts describing events happening to Dewhurst and Brett on the mountain.

And it's not sex based shenanigans either.

It seems that whilst Dewhurst is sleeping off his big meaty feast from earlier, Brett has taken the (sinister) urge to go walkabout in the mysterious fog that's descended from the south of the mountain but before it gets any juicier Anne faints.

Again.

Alan quickly calls the climbers hut to find out what's really going on and a sleepy Dewhurst answers.

Checking the bottom bunk (and his own bottom) he confirms that Brett has indeed gone missing and opens the door to see if he can spot him, Alan can only stand and listen as hideous screams fill the room before the phone goes dead ruining the happy atmosphere that the sisters had tried so hard to bring to the hotel.

Ungrateful cloud-based bastards.

A rescue party is hastily put together from various crew members hanging around on set and with a mix of good luck, stock footage and back-screen projection they soon spot Brett skulking around on a plateau.

Meanwhile Alan and the main cast members have arrived at the climbers hut to find Dewhurst's headless corpse stuck under the bed.

Back at the hotel Anne is shouting at anyone who'll listen (her sister) that they should all stay away from the hut and under no circumstances should the y fiddle with Brett's leathery sack.

Whilst all this excitement is (finally) happening the first rescuer has reached the plateau only to find that Brett has vanished leaving only his rucksack. Slowly opening it he is shocked to find that it contains Dewhurst's big jowly severed head.

He has no time to scream tho' as without warning Brett appears from nowhere and sticks an icepick in him before beating the second rescuer to death with the aforementioned decapitated head.

"Put it in me!"

After a school playground like scuffle Brett is overpowered and dragged back down the mountain and into the hotel lobby where he instantly lunges at Anne.

But not in an "I've got something to put in you!" way.

Alan, determined to get the first shot at the young girl beats Brett with a heavy ashtray before tying him up and locking him in the cellar.

It's all gone very Evil Dead hasn't it?

Just considerably cheaper.

And frightfully British.

Alan and Crevett are now even more astounded by the similarities to the Andes case now, remembering how a man killed an old woman who had similar powers to Anne.

Tho' her breasts weren't as pert.

She might look worried now but just wait till the tentacle fucking starts.

Realizing that the film is three quarters of the way thru', Brett kills his guard with a spoon and escapes from the cellar to make another attempt on Anne's life as outside the scary cloud begins to move slowly toward the village.

Now it's Truscott's time to shine as he bravely shoots Brett in the back from upstairs (who says chivalries dead?) giving Alan enough time to round-up the villagers and take them all up the observatory (matron!) which is heavily fortified and has hot and cold running water.

And a freeview box.

Sorted.

Waiting for the cable car to safety, Alan notices a distinct lack of tension onscreen which is luckily alleviated when a small child runs back to the hotel to fetch her ball, giving good old Al a chance to look heroic (and get a quick feel of the wee lassies arse) and the audience it's full glimpse of the monster in all it's big bulbous and veiny Japs eyed glory, it's slinky tentacles slowly curling and probing at the child's knee socks.

The beast is no match for Alan's chopper tho' and the pair escape to the cable car.

"Stop! Maddie Time!"

As the bouncy beasts begin to advance from all sides and various possessed people try to off Anne, ours heroes suddenly realize that they have less than an hour to stop the creatures invasion of Switzerland.

Well a bit of Switzerland.

Ok, a small(ish) Swiss hotel and mountain.

We all have to start somewhere.

Armed with only a few homemade petrol bombs (no idea that there was an Irishman in the group) and with an air-strike imminent, tensions aren't exactly running too high if I'm honest but the thought of some late fifties tentacle on totty action is enough to keep me watching.....

"I wouldn't want one of them swimming up my arse....TOO LATE!"

Originating as a six part 1956 television serial of the same name, director/producer (and bizarrely part-time physicist, holding patents for improvements in both nuclear reactor control rod and television imaging technology) Quentin Lawrence had a dream to bring writer Peter (The Adventures of Robin Hood, Armchair Theatre, Phoenix Nights) Key's mountain-based monster mash to the big screen where, free of the constraints of censorship, low budgets and good taste their true vision could finally be realized.

Either that or they only had one decent idea between them.

With a script by Hammer legend Jimmy Sangster (who's written everything from Dracula, Prince of Darkness to BJ and The Bear), re-using the cheaper members of the original cast and adding an American lead for those pesky overseas audiences, this cut price thriller seems to have taken on a life of it's own and, unlike it's featured monsters and closest relatives (hands up if you remember Stranger from Venus anyone?) refuses to die, turning up everywhere from Stephen King's 'It' to having The Misfits write a song about it (Crawling Eye on their seminal 1999 album Famous Monsters, fact fans).

"Do you think it's too late for Penicillin?"

"Eye son!"

So what does this penny pinching, studio bound oddity have that others of it's ilk don't?

Apart from perky Janet Munro and the bloke that played Dastari in 'The Two Doctors?' that is?


I mean the plot's not that original, the sets are smaller than a very small cupboard and the whole thing is cheaper than your sister so it must be something pretty damned special that enables this silly little film to tap into those primeval feelings of fear hidden deep within mankind's psyche.

Either that or it's the fact that the monsters are really fucking scary.

And that we actually get to see a couple of headless corpses which for 1958 is pretty unusual.

Except for viewers in 'The States' obviously who were deemed too sensitive to be exposed to an uncut version of the movie.

Even the title had to be changed for our frightened Yankee cousins.

Bless.

Honestly if you've never seen this you need to do so now but don't forget that afterwards you may never look at a circumcised penis leering over you at the foot of the bed the same way again.

Uncle Pete take note.

that thing you do.

By the time you read this I'll be off to see the great god John Carpenter* so I'm doing day 22 of 31 days of horror in advance.

And I really couldn't let my loyal readership down by missing a day could I?

And it's in tribute to the man himself that I've decided to revisit todays movie, the straight to DeeVeeDee delicacy that is Harbinger Down.

Unless you live in the UK where they retitled it Inanimate.

As opposed to just calling it Spooky Shite in the Snow and have done with it.

I mean what do you expect when the man famous for making the 'Predalien' and trying to attach hoover pipes to the back of the monster suit in Alien 3 = much to the affront of David Fincher - decides to direct a threepenny remake of The Thing which promises absolutely no CGI effects.

Well maybe a few.
Well, what could possibly go wrong?

Harbinger Down (AKA Inanimate. 2015).
Dir: Alec Gillis.
Cast: Lance Henriksen, Camille Balsamo, Matt Winston, Reid Collums, Milla Bjorn, Winston James Francis, Mike Estime, Edwin Bravo and Giovonnie Samuels.

It's June 25th, 1982 around 8.30-ish in the morning (you can tell by the lighting) and a (non-CG, honest) Soviet spacecraft is racing toward the Earth’s atmosphere in a vain attempt to return home in time for the first screening of John Carpenter's The Thing.

Yup, always good to start your film with a nice in-joke to keep the interweb geeks happy.

Obviously the unnamed astronaut has already seen that movie's pre-credits teaser tho' seeing as he's thrown caution - and originality - to the wind by trying to copy that spacecraft's trajectory in a kind of airborne tribute not seen since the heady days of the Red Arrows.

It'll come as no surprise then when the poor sod crashes into a barren, icy landscape.

Lance Henriksen wonders where it all went wrong.

Jumping forward 33 years later and the much maligned on release movie is now considered one of, if not THE best monster movies of all time and John Carpenter's finest work.

As much as I love it tho' I did recently come across what I think is the reason for its lack of success at the box office.

The films title which is frankly nonsensical.

John Carpenter's The Thing?

No he's not.

Plus there are no characters that go by that name - or anything similar - in the whole film.

Audiences were probably put off by thinking that the title gave away who the monster was so didn't bother going to see it, those that did where probably confused looking for this mysterious John Carpenter character during the movie and missed all the good bits.

With hindsight perhaps a better title would have been 'Director John Carpenter wants to remake the title sequence from the Howard Hawks/Christian Nymby original film but has taken his inspiration from the original short story about a shape-shifting alien'. 

Tho' that would have left less space for the artwork.

But I digress.

Anyway, it's still 33 years later - from the films opening, not from the last time I typed 33 years later because that would now be 66 years....or 99 if you count the 33 years in the explanation....hang on I've typed it again - and woolly hatted college student Sadie (Balsamo from TeeVee's Murder in the First), her big haired buddy Ronelle (The Suite Life of Zack And Cody's Samuels) and their creepy professor Stephen Merkin (John from Cincinnati's Barry Cunningham himself, Winston) are all set for a nice cruise aboard the  crabbing vessel Harbinger in order to stick some GPS trackers to a group of beluga whales.

As you do.

The best thing about the trip is that it's absolutely free, thanks in part to the ship being owned by Sadie's granddad, the salty seadog Captain Steffi Graff (Henriksen), which means that professor Merkin can blow the allocated travel budget on giant sized bottles of Just For Men, tubes of Pringles and cherry fragrant lube.

Probably.

Camille Balsamo desperately searches for an original idea...or halfway decent special effect.

 
After the obligatory meet the crew bit - yup all the cliches are here and accounted for including the sexy Kurt Russell wannabe Bowman (Collums), grumpy man mountain Big G (Francis), wise-cracking black dude Dock (Estime) and saucily secretive Soviet sexpot Svet (Bjorn, Ingrid Bolsø Berdal was busy - or has a mediocrum of taste, obviously) - the whale watching fun begins.

Luckily the film is quite short so it's not long before the Harbinger crew have dragged the crashed Russian spacecraft from out of the icy depths and on board the ship.

Originally mistaking it for a Ferguson Videostar VHS machine due to it's size and abundance of big buttons they elect to store it in the hold and thaw it out in the hope that it will still work, therefore enabling them to sell it on Ebay and all retire as rich men.

Except Svet who'd be a rich woman obviously.

If you concentrate you can still hear the CLUNK.

Upon further investigation its true nature is revealed, along with a freeze-dried cosmonaut and a box of worms.

Worms that for some reason or another have been genetically altered to assimilate DNA and and kill stuff.

As to why this is never made clear but most likely because it looks cool.

Or it was at least meant to.

Once thawed the wacky worms mutate into a massive day-glo monster hell bent on devouring both the students and the Harbinger’s crew, messily absorbing them into an ever-growing nightmare of latex, KY Jelly and headache inducing lighting effects.


With only a few flame thrower-like liquid nitrogen guns for defense, Sadie, Captain Graff and the rest of the crew must band together before the creature can complete it's plan of total domination of the worlds crabbing industry.

Or something.


Let's be honest do you really care?

Really truly?

"Put it in me!"

Way back in 2010, the Academy Award-winning character effects studio Amalgamated Dynamics (look them up, they've done loads of stuff including Starship Troopers, Death Becomes Her and AVP) or ADI as they are much more sexily known, were hired to create the practical monster effects for the abysmal 2011 'prequel' to The Thing.

Yup, we're back to that movie again.

Unfortunately much to ADI's annoyance and to general viewer apathy, the studio decided to replace all their practical effects work with an incredibly shoddy amount of cheap CGI of the kind not seen since the days of the Playstation 2 for no other reason than that's how Hollywood works.

Given the choice between swallowing it down (I'm assuming that they still got paid) or burning down the Universal backlot, Alec Gillis and his pals sensibly decided on a third option.

They would use crowdfunding platform Kickstarter to raise money for their own monster movie which they would make using only practical creature effects created through the use of animatronics, prosthetic makeup, stop motion and miniatures.

The beauty of this idea was twofold, firstly there was already a huge audience clambering for a return to the 'real' effects based films of yesteryear plus - and most importantly if it turned out shit then ADI wouldn't be out of pocket.

Cynical?

Me?

Frighteningly realistic effects from the 2011 version of The Thing.

Well their hearts might have been in the right place but unfortunately Gillis appears to have left his directing skills down the back of the sofa.

A sofa that was then covered in petrol and set light to.

And to make matters worse all the original ideas for the screenplay were in a folder behind the cushions when he did it.

Alongside a post-it note with the names of a halfway decent cinematographer, an editor with two good eyes and a competent lighting guy.

On a brighter note he at least had Lance Henriksen's number stored in his phone.

As well as all those dodgy photos of him shagging a goat that he was going to use to blackmail him with.

Because to be honest I can't imagine any other reason for him wanting to appear in this.

I mean he can't be that skint surely?

Shite in mah mooth? Shite fucking everywhere more like.

It's to Henriksen's credit tho' that he, alongside the rest of the cast manage to breathe any life at all into the paper thin characters on show but even then it's an uphill struggle thanks to a piss-poor script that desperately attempts to recall the heady days of 80's body horror but ultimately just leaves you longing for a re-watch of George P. Cosmatos' Leviathan instead.

And not just the scene where Amanda Pays has a shower in her undies.

Kudos especially to Milla Bjorn, who fights valiantly against one of the most ludicrous character arcs I've ever had the misfortune to sit thru' and to poor old Reid Collums who thanks to being forced to wear a stick on beard whilst carrying around a toy fire extinguisher looks for all the world like a small boy cosplaying Kurt Russell as Macready.

At least if they'd written the whole thing as a self-aware black comedy none of this would have mattered.

But they didn't and it does.

Amanda Pays...no explanation needed.

Neither good enough nor bad enough to be truly enjoyable, Harbinger Down seems happy enough to settle for just being average and when you stop and think about the talent involved it's a crying shame.

I bet John Carpenter live is fucking brilliant tho.







































*Unless you're reading this at any other day except Saturday 22nd October 2016 obviously.