it's raining men.

People say that I cover way too much horror and sleaze on this blog and not enough films featuring large white pants.

Luckily in this age of comic adaptations it just happens to be one of those too so hopefully this'll get some kids reading in a mistaken view that this is the one-stop shop for all things Marvel/DC related.

Although as this is based on the 'adult' manga of the same name that may not be a good thing.

Enjoy.

Otenki-oneesan (AKA Weather Woman 1996).
Dir: Tomoaki Hosoyama.
Cast: Kei Mizutani, Takashi Sumida, Yasuyo Shiroshima, Kunihiko Ida, Ren Osugi, Saori Taira.

Given the films title you may not be too shocked when I tell you that it is indeed the story of a female weather broadcaster, in this case it's stand in teevee weather girl Kieko Nakadai (she-ferret Kei Mizutani) who, during her first forecast, accidentally flashes her pants to the nation.
I often wished Carol Kirkwood would do the same.

You could house an entire refugee family quite comfortably in those.

Not too surprisingly ratings soar and Kieko becomes a media darling, not just in Japan but worldwide and instead of replacing regular weather girl Michiko (Teevee starlet Saori Taira) for one night, Keiko is given a permanent slot in which to flash her pants, forecast snow and the like to an adoring nation.

Why can't all films have plots this simple?

Or pant-centric?

Harsh.

Poor Michiko is relegated to hosting the hit reality TV show ‘Hentai-san, hajimemashite’ (Hello, Mr Pervert!).

Obviously angry and annoyed (tho' it's hard to tell from her acting plus I kept getting distracted by her shoulderpads) at losing the best job on teevee Michiko plots her revenge.

In between presenting stories about old men fondling strangers arses and guys in love with horses that is.

Just imagine This Morning but with smoother thighs.

Luckily for her the studio owners daughter, a French educated weather expert named Shimamori (Yasuyo Shiroshima, ultra-cute star of the fantastic BeeBop High School) also has plans to oust our heroine (who is in fact her old school rival) and, after humiliating Kieko during a live broadcast, takes over the weather slot hoping to be crowned national 'Weather Woman'.

Just. Too. Cute.

Deciding to fight back Kieko enlists the help of fellow employee and professional stalker Yamagushi (none trick pony Takashi Sumida) a creepy geek with a crush on Kieko.

Why? You may ask.

As in why does she need his help not as to why he fancies her obviously.

Well, it appears that Yamagushi owns the fabled 'Heavenly Whip' which, when used on Kieko, will grant her the power to control the worlds weather (no, I'm not making this up) enabling her to defeat Shimamori.

"Gordon's alive!"

After an extremely long (and slightly uncomfortable) scene of Kieko bound and whipped by her sweaty stalker she finally gains control over the elements and is reborn as the all powerful Weather Witch, heading over to the studio to battle Shimamori for the ultimate prize.....

Who will triumph?

And more importantly what will they be wearing?

Fair enough.

Director Tomoaki Hosoyama's first (and last) stab at mainstream success, after his 'Pinku' classic (and plea for sexual tolerance) Lesbian Colony (1987) certainly knows how to grab the audiences attention, opening the film, as he does, with Kei Mizutani masturbating furiously atop a building, which kinda gives it the edge over Suicide Squad in the comics to film stakes.

Never one to miss a trick he shows her at it again about twenty minutes in (tho' he does change the scenery by setting this saucy scene in the station toilets) and intercuts all this fiddling with an almost obscene amount of pantie flashing (I lost count after thirty), which I'll be the first to admit does detract from Kei Mizutani's nightmarish incisors and ghoulishly grotesque  pin-head.

Kirkwood, you would, I would. Twice.

What makes this movie truly bizarre tho' (as if the 'plot' wasn't enough) is that alongside the copious amounts of sexiness and fetish fantasies are serious commentaries on Japanese business culture and interpersonal relationships (no really) coupled with off the wall moments of untranslatable 'comedy' and satirical jibes at the state of television, making it slightly more schizophrenic than Norman Bates but better looking in a dress, obviously.

Comic lady.

Real lady.

Vibrant, colourful, vaguely amusing, slightly smutty yet never boring, Weather Woman is the perfect movie to entertain grannie with (or anyone with a thing for rat faced, grumpy women, uncle Jeff perhaps?) on those rainy afternoons and sits proudly at the top spot of the weather-based, underwear obsessed witchcraft movie genre.

Check the shoes.

It's just a pity that Tomoaki Hosoyama went and ruined it all with the totally unnecessary sex based (and shoulder showing) low in laughs sequel Weather Woman Returns but hey ho at least it's not New Female Teacher - Leotards of Temptation - now that is shite.

Don't worry the usual films about bad murders and the like will be back soon.

soggy biscuits.

Well kinda run out of SciFi stuff to review in preparation for Rogue One and by default blown any chances of upping my readership into double figures.

But hey, who needs readers?

It would entail having to review stuff that people actually want to see as well as probably upping the abusive email amount tenfold.

So anyway came across this whilst dusting and remembered that it's become a kinda unofficial Christmas movie around here, no idea why tho'.

Might be because the girl on the cover looks like a novelty bauble.

Entrails of A Virgin (AKA Guts of A Virgin, Shojo no harawata. 1986)
Dir: Kazuo ‘Gaira’ Komizu.
Cast: Saeko Kizuki, Naomi Hagio, Megumi Kawashima, Osamu Tsuruoka, Kazuhiko Goda, Osamu Tsuruoka and Hideki Takahashi.

"それはまだでていますか？"

Welcome to mid-eighties Japan, where all the young women dress like Purdey from The New Avengers and all the guys have her haircut.

Did the local shop have a run on bowls or something?

Anyway off in the mountains just outside Kurashiki, young Rita (Kizuki, of Women in Heat Behind Bars fame) and her gal pals Kazza (Pinku no kaaten and Chokugeki! Ryôjoku-shi star Hagio) and Dave
(frighteningly pointy chinned Kawashima in her only role) are busy working on a photo-shoot for top fashion and lifestyle magazine Spunkmonkey alongside famed photographer cum human hamster Ken (Tsuruoka - best known for Monzetsu!) and his assistants Alan (Katô, star of Katte ni shiyagare hey! Brother) and Gordon (Takahashi from the Sôsa keiji Chikamatsu Shigemichi movie series).

Bloody Hell that was a lot of words.

Less over the rainbow, more under it and just behind the bins.

Beginning with your average cheesy grins and shoddy swimsuit shots the whole thing soon degenerates into a sea of wet breasts, straining groins and bullet nippled naughtiness as each girl tries her best to convey the adult nature of the film.

Pity then the whole thing is backed by a cock bothering sub-standard light n' breezy jazz score.

I mean it's like trying to masturbate in a lift.

Probably.

Content with giving the (male) audience members something to fiddle over for ten minutes the merry band decide to pack up and head home in their decidedly Lego-like camper van backed by even more inappropriate cheesy listening music.

And it's these sinisterly shite sounds coupled with the male casts heady mix of untouched erections, egg stained shirts and sweat that - probably - causes a mysterious fog to rise making driving any further than the local - and deserted - community centre impossible.

Luckily tho' it's is well stocked with booze and food.

Alongside massive boxes of shaving foam and condoms.

What are the chances eh?

Look if you want to wank over someone with the body of a 12 year old boy just get over it and find yourself an actual 12 year old boy.

Settling down for an evening of piss-weak drink, various spicy snacks and the hope of some sordid yet crisply shot arse banditry, our gleeful group gleefully get the party started, unaware that they're being stalked from the bushes by a muck encrusted someone - or something - that's less than human.

A something with a penis the size of a large baby.

A large baby with a really pronounced spine.

And a massive head.

"Paging Mr. Herman..."

Back at the community centre (did we ever really leave?) things are hotting up with Alan and Kazza indulging in a bout of underpant wrestling whilst a very sweaty Ken decides to try out his smooth seduction techniques on Rita.

For anyone that's interested in trying these techniques for themselves next time you're out they involve violently licking your (preferably huge) sausage fingers and forcing them up a ladies skirt.

Whilst  dribbling.

Surprisingly Rita actually seems impressed.

I obviously hang about the wrong type of places.

What your girlfriend gets up to on her 'college' night.

Meanwhile in the bushes, the beast man watches intently.

As the party starts to wind down and our loved up losers start to go their separate ways  (for more sex obviously) the big bollocked brute strikes, murdering the group one by one.

For the men it's beheadings and impailings but for the women it's death by demonic dong.

Who will survive unscathed?

"Put it in me!"

Good old Kazuo Komizu, not content with nicknaming himself after a 1960's flesh eating movie monster and writing the screenplays to literally dozens of top drawer erotic thrillers (everything from Female Market to Go! Go! to the criminally under-rated Second Time Virgin), he decided -  whilst midway thru' his second decade as a writer - to re-invent himself as Japan's answer to Joe D'amato creating as he did a brand new genre that consisted of (very) short movies containing nothing but arse, tits, sexual violence.

Pure, unadulterated exploitational sleaze for the bedroom bound, masturbation obsessed masses.

And for that at least we should be grateful.

I think.

Jeremy Beadles final wish.

It's scary to think that back in the dim and distant 80's that you could be arrested,  stoned and then hung for even thinking about this movie because when viewed today it's all rather quaint with it's rough as road surfacing actresses, gore effects that look like they were conceived by a hook-handed child, comedic non-acting from the men - all nail biting and worried frowns - topped off with the most unattractive cum faces since you accidentally came across you mum and dad at it on the sofa that New Year when you were a small boy.

Obviously tho' neither of them were masturbating with a severed arm.

Cheerfully cheap and nasty (a wee bit like your wee sister) and with the greatest comedy cock this side of Boogie Nights I mean honestly, what's not to love?

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 65).

She's the regal redhead of rebellion and everyone's favourite Force following filly, Genevieve O'Reilly as Mon Mothma in Star Wars Episode III Revenge Of The Sith and Star Wars Rogue One.

rouge one.

A posh 'n' pouty Brit-chick leads a ragtag group of mismatched space warriors against an evil galactic Empire complete with planet devastating super weapon?

Oh Felicity, you fill me with electricity...

 Sounds familiar.

Starcrash (AKA The Adventures of Stella Star, Female Space Invaders, Scontri stellari oltre la terza dimensione, Star Battle Encounters 1979)
Dir: Luigi Cozzi.
Cast: The lovely Caroline Munro, David Hasselhoff, Dame Christopher Plummer, Judd Hamilton, Joe Spinell, Robert Tessier, Nadia Cassini and Mr. Marjoe Gortner.

"By sunset I'll be the new emperor. And I'll be the master of the whole universe!"

Somewhere in the Crayola hued reaches of deepest space and sometime in the far flung, leather-clad future a huge space cruiser constructed entirely from primary coloured Lego bricks is searching for the evil Count Zarth An's (the legendary Spinell) secret base. 

The search is going well, perhaps too well or just as the crew pinpoint Zarths lair the ship is attacked by a giant red lava lamp that strikes with such ferocity that the captain can only manage to launch three (yogurt pot)  lifeboats before the it's totally destroyed.


Yikes.

Meanwhile just up the road (take a left on Warp Drive and straight thru' the roundabout), sexy space smuggler Stella Star (every man's fantasy Munro) and her gerbil faced navigator Akton ('B'-movie god and once the world's youngest ordained preacher, Gortner) are in the middle of an exciting space chase, being, as they are, pursued across the cosmos by Space Police's finest, officer Jeff Thor (shiny pated teevee and film stalwart Tessier) and the cock headed robot Elle (ex Mr. Munro and moustachioed movie producer Hamilton).

Their crime?

A trumped up charge of copyright infringement. 

"Thor? I'm in thucking agony!"

Leaping in and out of hyperspace like bed hopping lemmings, Stella is about to evade Thor for good when she picks up a distress signal emanating from one of the escape pods from the previous scene and being an all round good egg, Stella decides to sexily (and seductively) spacewalk across to the pod to check for survivors.

From the battle that is, not the 1970's Terry Nation scripted, Ian McCulloch starring TeeVee show.

Aboard is a lone astronaut, his mind irreversibly damaged by the pound shop lava lamp/lens flare thingy and his body left limp and lifeless.

And covered in a thin layer of egg and sweat.

Just as our heroes are deciding whether to leave him be or nick his wallet Thor's top gun fighter squad surround their ship leaving luscious Stella trapped.

Roughly grabbed by the filth our pneumatic nymph is taken into custody.

Oh no....it's the Ninkey Nonk!"

Left for hours in a stinky cell without fresh running water, clean bedding or even a knock-off  freeview box, Stella is finally led to the mysterious 'space court' (which appears to be run by the monster from the 1956 version of Invaders from Mars) and quickly charged with smuggling, dangerous driving and the use of a body double in the Hammer hit Captain Kronos Vampire Hunter.

The latter a crime so great (seeing as it meant that many young boys in the early 80's where tricked into firing their virgin load over some unknown actress rather than Munro herself) that the only sentence that could possibly come close is life imprisonment in the Chuckle Brothers Lemonade mines, wearing nothing but a skimpy black leather bikini whilst carrying glowing radium rods to power the nuclear furnace whilst sweating 

A lot.

Tell me again why this movie is popular among 14 yr old boys?

 

Within minutes of arriving at her new home Stella quickly becomes bored with lugging all those highly dangerous radioactive isotopes about whilst provocatively showing her ample cleavage so decides to incite a prison riot and escape.

Everything goes according to plan (shit explodes, Stella jiggles a wee bit, leather-clad extras fall over - you know the drill) but just as she's about to steal a prison ship and rocket to freedom would you believe that a gigantic gold winged dildo lands directly in front of her.

A dildo piloted by the glam-rock robed Emperor of all space himself (Plummer, caked in eyeliner, pissed as an old Jake, stinking of shame and obviously desperate to pay off his ex-wife, poor sod) the exalted Lord Toby Groom.

But why is the galaxies most powerful man bumming around in a huge sex toy stalking a fetish geared British actress you may ask.

Well, it appears that Emperor Groom's only son, Simon was serving aboard the Lego space cruiser when it went down and he is willing to grant Stella and her pal a pardon for their smuggling racket (and for blowing up the prison killing God knows how many guards) if they can find and safely return him to his oh so worried dad.

The only thing he insists on is that Thor and Elle accompany them on their mission.

Will Stella accept? 

Hell yeah!

Spot the ball.

Using a data extract from the recovered space pod - and the saliva of the by now dribbly vegetable like survivor - Stella (within minutes I mean c'mon it's a fairly short movie) discovers the crash site of not only the two remaining space pods but also the lost spaceship itself. 

Result.

First stop.....planet of the bareback riding Amazon women!

Or more accurately the beach of the bareback riding Amazon women.

Oh well at least it wasn't a quarry.

Upon arrival Stella and co. are greeted by a group of benign female warriors who escort our merry band to the Amazon Palace for tea and biscuits with their queen, the clap riddled yet still strangely attractive Corelia Frostrup (a fantastic performance from the dirty as fuck and curvy of arsed pop princess Cassini, best known for that sensational Euro-hit A chi la do stasera).

Everything is going swimmingly until about halfway thru' the second packet of custard creams when a tipsy Corelia realizes that she's encountered the erstwhile Elle before.

Yup he once gave her a full body cavity search after pulling her over for speeding.


The dirty domed pervert.

Been a woman and obviously not prone to overreacting, our quaint queen pal decides to simply shoot Elle in the face before taking Stella prisoner.

Cue twelve tissues worth of slo-mo girl on girl karate action set to a lush John Barry score.

Boiled onions.

Stella fights - and jiggles - valiantly but is soon overpowered by the gorgeous group of sweaty, leather clad Amazons who drag our hot heroine over to the hideous 'mind bending machine' for a quick bout of brain draining disco torture.

After a few minutes of brightly lit grimacing and shapely leg wobbling Stella is rescued by a fully recovered Elle who appears from behind the fridge, subduing the angryAmazons with his penile like fingers and cock shaped head before grabbing Stella and making a break for freedom.

Huzzah!

After a halfhearted runaround across the golden sands of Tenby's major tourist beach, Stella and Elle are fairly shocked (and maybe a tiny bit surprised) to come across a giant she-robot (with huge shiny metal breasts and massive silver rivets for nipples) blocking their escape.

Luckily this allows them to take part in a high speed chase scene that would do Benny Hill proud before being rescued by Akton who, in a fantastic show of his impeccable navigating skills defeats the She-Bot.

Okay, he crashes into it and knocks it over.

Happy now?

Put it in me!

Thinking that the mission can't get any worse (or the movie any more comical) our heroes press on to planet number two, the chillily named Frozonian, a barren world covered by ice, snow and more ice. 

Drawing the short straw -  again - Stella and Elle venture out into the cold, polystyrene filled landscape and within minutes have stumbled across a couple of deep frozen bodies and a burnt out Fiat Uno.

Whilst all this is going on, Thor -  deciding to add a wee bit of much needed jeopardy to the movie has become a badman - violently bashing Akton on the head he then takes control of the ship. 

And your mums heart.

His cunning plan is to leave the dynamic duo on the planet's frozen surface and join forces with Count Zarth An.

To be honest we should of guessed Thor would turn out to be a traitor seeing that in the entire cast of fairly attractive actors, he's the only pug-faced, green skinned baldy amongst them.

Luckily for Stella, Elle also has a cunning plan (it's always worrying when the cock-headed robot is the brainiest member of the cast) and persuades Stella to lie on top of him in the snow as he uses his 'circuits' to keep her warm.

Would this ever work on a lady in real life? 

Write in and let me know.

Snow in mah mooth.

Whilst all this backstabbing and skulduggery is going on Thor seems to have forgotten about Akton, who awakes in the nick of time to zap Thor before opening the doors allowing a very stiff Elle and an even stiffer Stella back on board. 

As if that wasn't enough, it's only due to Akton's hitherto unmentioned 'special  skills'  that they're able to fully revive Stella without any - noticeable -damage. 

You see, Akton knew this would happen all along because he can see into the future!


Who knew?

Well he did obviously.

Scarily for a bubble permed second fiddle smuggler Akton has shit loads of useful (almost super) powers like this that only ever appear when the script calls for them.

I mean he can fire sine waves from his fingers, deflect death rays, thaw out bikini clad space chicks and wield a light saber.

You almost get the feeling that a movie about him and the novelty cockbot having amusing adventures would possibly have made more cash at the box office and that poor Stella was only added at the last minute to keep the dads (and teen boys) happy.

Tho' if Mr. Cozzi is reading this I do have a script in the works about that very subject and let's be honest, it can't be any worse than the ill-conceived  Starcrash sequel Escape from Galaxy 3.

Christopher Plummer: Camper than Jesus.

Anyway, back to the plot.

With Thor banged up in a cell our terrific trio carry on with the mission and head towards the mysterious 'planet number three', know in space circles as 'the most dangerous planet in the universe' and home of the previously (un)seen lens flare/lava lamp/shoddy effects beasts, which - unsurprisingly - violently attacks the ship in what we hope will be a nerve shredding action scene like no other. 

Unfortunately tho' it isn't seeing as the crew appear to just hide behind Akton's hair for protection whilst he quickly flies thru' the monsters and lands right next to the remaining pod.

Elle and Stella head out to investigate (again) and surprise, surprise are attacked by the indigenous population, which this time is a hairy arsed group of gypsy-like cavemen determined to use Stella for 'entertainment' purposes.

As is the way by now, Elle is once again disabled (by the cavemen obviously not in a car sticker way) as Stella is dragged away by her hair.

Space tramp bum fun ahoy.

Or not.

You see just as the cavemen are about to have their wicked way with Stella, who should turn up but Prince Simon himself.

And played by the melted cheese chested Lord David of Hasselhoff no less.

Appearing from nowhere he starts shooting the hairy badmen with 'laser beams' from his glittery 'energy mask' (it's all techno-bollocks so try not to think to hard) before being joined by Akton and his (nothing like the ones in Star Wars) lightsaber.

The hunky heroes make short work of the weirdy beardies and Simon, obviously hyped up on all this killing decides to destroy Zarth An's lava lamp monster making machine too.

But just as he prepares to strike, the evil Count (boo! hiss!) finally arrives, flanked by a squad of leather clad, gimp masked Italians and two sword fighting, bin headed stop-motion robots.

Five fingers never touched the sides.

Zarth explains that the whole rescue mission was a cunning plan to lure the Emperor to his secret base and blow him up.

Forever! 

The swine.

As with all good villains, after explaining his entire plan, Zarth leaves the two robots to guard the prisoners whilst he prepares for battle.

Do you think our heroes can escape and warn Captain Von Trapp?

Noticing that Prince Simon's hair is much curlier and more bouffant than his own and therefore easier to hide in, Akton decides to give his pals a chance to escape by challenging the robots to a duel, unfortunately he's badly matted onto the scene giving the stop-motion metal men an unfair advantage which ends up with Akton getting stabbed up the shitter and left for dead.

Hmmm....he obviously didn't see that coming.

Or did he?

Stella and Simon, making no attempt to aid their pal quickly escape in Zarth's space taxi but are too late to stop him beginning the countdown to destroy the planet.

Things are looking grim for our heroes as the clock ticks away.


But not as grim as it does for the audience.

Just as the countdown approaches zero (as is always the way) the Emperor appears from nowhere and decides to use his 'ray for stopping time', a handy little device that allows everyone to escape before the planet explodes.

Surely this would have been useful earlier?

I mean he could have stopped time as soon as Zarth's base was found.

Or maybe launch a ship and given him a kicking.

Or even stopped time as soon as he discovered his son's ship crashed.

At the very least you think he'd of used it when he was doing his Emperor exams.

Visiting his local Debenhams lingerie department perhaps?

The possibilities are endless.

 
Assuming that everyone died when the planet went boom, Zarth gets back to the everyday task of running his evil legion, busying himself by planning his next dastardly move.

Imagine his reaction then when from out of the blue a squadron of Imperial fighters appear in the heavens and proceed to drop big golden dildo shaped torpedoes thru' the massive bay windows of Zarth's base before spewing forth a gaggle of laser wielding soldiers dressed head to toe in Bacofoil.


Fair play to Spinell for managing to look convincingly angry during this scene, if it were me I'd be on the floor pissing myself.

You can tell that we're rapidly approaching the movies climax as a massive sparkler and smoke bomb battle ensues between the gold boiler suited good guys and the rubberized fetish geared bad men as brightly coloured toy spaceships from the early learning centre zoom about outside shooting at each other in a battle to the death.

It comes as a wee bit of a shock to the Emperor (and to us) then when his crack troops are utterly defeated.

Arse.

Pausing for a few seconds in an attempt to showcase his considerably acting talents - whilst mourningy the loss of his favourite dance troupe, the Emperor comes up with an audacious plan. 

He proposes to use the 'Starcrash'.

Not you.

As impressive and complicated as this sounds, it actually just involves crashing some huge spaceship into the Count's space fortress.

Stella is the obvious choice for the mission.....but will it work?


And let's be honest here do we really care?

 

Made two years after the release of Star Wars, Shlock Meister supreme Luigi Cozzi's 'homage' makes up for all it's short comings (of which there are many) by having the fantastic idea of putting British movie Goddess Caroline Munro in a leather bikini with matching thigh boots and covering her in baby oil. 

This in itself is more than enough for 93 minutes of entertainment, everything else is a bonus.

And what of everything else? 

The model effects are fabulously inept, plus seeing as all the space ships appear to be made totally from the sprues from model kits (you know, the bits of plastic the parts come attached to) you and your friends can play spot the Airfix kit whilst admiring the dayglo painted backgrounds.

Space: 1999 Eagles, big truck wheels, X-Wings.....they're all here shoddily glued together to take part in a variety of disco coloured clunkily edited space battles just for you.

Paddington.

As for the acting on show, Marjoe Gortner is all amusing facial ticks and a hairstyle that gives him the look of an unholy cross between Syd Little and a large pubic bush (albeit one with tiny rodent like teeth), Christopher Plummer looks junked to the eyeballs and frankly horrified, clad as he is in silver foil, thigh boots and light blue eyeliner whilst big screen bad guy Joe Spinell sweats like Donald Trump in a girls dormitory whilst shouting the word "FOREVER!" at the end of every line.

And the human car crash that is the Hoff?

Less chubby, self important and considerably less pissed than normal, his mouth is constantly agape like a whoring goldfish ready to accommodate the next eager punter you can actually see him thinking "Fuck you Harrison Ford! this is how you do space acting!" and imagining a world of Starcrash sequels and Simon action figures.

It says a lot for him that the two stop motion robots have much more charisma - and a better range - than he does.

Tho' the giant lady robot's huge metal breasts are nothing compared to his ever expanding man ones.

As a bizarre aside, for years Starcrash was only available - in it's full 93 minute version - on home video in France which meant that to acquire it I had to have sex with a hairy pitted French girl named Mireille.


Twice.



Come to think of it I really should have waited.


Or at least gotten a pen pal.

china in your han.

Getting excited about the upcoming release of Rogue One here (what can I say? I'm a guy of a certain age) so in way of celebration I present various panels from the fantastic Chinese comic book adaptation of Star Wars originally published in Guangdong.

Enjoy.

Head over here for the full strip and to marvel at the amazing Nick Stember who's attempting to translate the whole thing and for more on the history  of lianhuanhua, check out the quite marvelous Maggie Green. 

Who says this blog isn't educational?

don't cry for me argentina.

So, when does trash transcend its boundaries to become art? and can 'art' become so misplaced that it becomes mere trash?

More importantly, are the two interchangeable?

Fucked if I know, I was only asking because between bonkers Brexit and terrifying Trump the world seems to be slowly but surely collapsing in on itself in an ever growing malaise of rancid racism and jingoistic flag waving like an ecstasy-fueled last night of the proms conducted by the putrefying corpse of Hunter S Thompson's dog.

Well done world.

 So to alleviate the feelings of dark despair I thought I'd give this gem a rewatch....


Sadomaster (2005).

Dir: Germán Magariños and Fernando Giangiacomo

Cast: Ezequiel Hansen, Leandro De la Torre, Francisco Pérez Laguna, Mariano Salas and Fernando Giangiacomo.

Asses and Nazi's.....pity there's
no dwarf action too.

The time: Now!

The place: Sunny Argentina!

Which it has to be said is being destroyed from within by a particularly nasty bout of ultra-violence.

And rickets.

Nasty Nazi gangs are roaming the streets, setting fire to tramps, pooing behind bins and molesting (leathery) old ladies and only senator Mauricio Beccar Varela (Laguna...like it matters) is man enough to tackle this onslaught of badness by implementing a zero tolerance of naughtiness campaign.

Right on.

Unfortunately for the people of Argentina Varela leads a double life, by day he's a man of the people - kinda like a slightly less swarthy South American Nigel Farage - but as the sun sets he reveals his true self.

Yup he is, in fact actually the evil ring leader of the Nazi gang responsible for the violence.

Hang on, that's basically just Nigel Farage isn't it?

"Are you my mummy?"

As the weeks go by the violence gets ever worse and after a particularly nasty night which starts with a defenseless Rabbi is beaten to death by a group of One Direction wannabes and culminates with a leather clad pervert urinating on babies it looks like the city is doomed.

What will it take for someone to take a stand against these rotters?

Surprisingly the answer to that question is actually quite simple.

All it takes is the brutal, drawn out torture - and rape obviously - of a chubby, topless man with learning difficulties.

All in glorious close-up.

Lucky, lucky us.

The mutilated body is later discovered by a pissed up homeless man walking down the street who, feeling peckish proceeds to help himself to the poor victims spleen.

They're full of vitamin C apparently.

Not a still from the film
(to be honest there are precious few I can show)
but a photo of some Pikey kids dogging school
(possibly to actually go dogging - who knows? )
and giving the vickies to the camera.

But as our stinky chum cheekily chews his makeshift lunch a spooky pentagram appears flashing onscreen and the ghost of the dead chubby (as in dead and chubby, tho' he is actually dead chubby too) man appears from nowhere screaming “Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!”

Reckoning that becoming a black clad vigilante is probably a better career choice that rummaging thru' the bins, the homeless guy fashions himself a homemade gimp outfit and christens himself the Sadomaster before beginning a brutal series of revenge attacks against the gangs and the corrupt politicians.

Just like Bernie Sanders didn't.

A still from the aborted The Famous
Five/Frank Castle team-up.

Our hero - knowing he lacks a certain something in the hero stakes decides to make up for his stinky fish breath, stringy beard, lack of super powers and the fact that he rides a really crap moped by being not only hard as nails but mad as a lorry with it.

It's not too surprising them to find out that the Sadomaster soon has the evil Nazi's on the run.

But things are probably going to get a lot worse (acting and plotwise) before they get better...

I say probably because by this point I gave up and went to bed.

I mean there comes a point when you have to ask yourself is it really worth sitting up late at night feverishly scribbling notes on a film only myself - and possibly Keith Vaz - will ever see as a fat, sweaty Argentinian non-actor grinning like a loon has a huge rubber cock forced into his mouth in the background?

The final decision was made for me tho' when I caught sight of that old friend Porno Holocaust hiding under a pile of recently purchased Poundland DVD's on my desk.

I mean who wants to watch such mindless and inept shaky cam rubbish as Sadomaster when you know that only a few feet away Mark Shanon's warty scrotum is awaiting your attention in all it's remastered wide screen glory?

Even tho' I only watched it again a few weeks back.

Yes, Sadomaster is that bad.

Your nan on the phone yesterday.

Costing less than a McDonalds happy meal (and managing to be far less appetizing) this lo-fi revenge flick from the aptly titled Gorevision Films is the kind of movie that the self proclaimed art crowd will muse over for years to come whilst your connoisseur of cult films (and no doubt all you fine readers here) will (hopefully) see it for the tragically un-hip Mad Foxes rip-off that it really is.

Without that films charm, wit and big-bushed bath bonking obviously.

Gore, breasts, mouth-rape, evil Nazi's
and political commentary....

...or Mark Shannon's warty balls...
YOU decide!

Unfortunately Sadomaster was a big enough hit in Argentina to allow Magariños and Giangiacomo to continue making 'the films', following up this classic with the little seen Un Cazador de Zombis.

Which scarily is even worse than this.

Tho' at least it has someone famous in it.

OK it has a cameo from Troma's Lloyd Kaufman.

And then?

Yup.....they made Sadomaster 2.

As well as such titles as - I kid you not - Poltergays 5: los lobos desnudos de las, They Call Him One Eye Faggot and the hilariously sounding Scanners: Dopplegayners.

Oh.

My.

Sides.

Yet it's me that gets the death threats.

Be seeing you.