savage garden.

Day 7 of the much loved 31 Days of Horror.*

Are you ready?

Then let's begin.

Savaged (2013)

Dir: Michael S. Ojeda.

Cast:  Amanda Adrienne, Tom Ardavany, Ronnie Gene Blevins, Rodney Rowland, Ernie Charles and your dad and his friend from football.

Probably.

Horse faced deaf chick Zoe (Adrienne) has decided to drive cross country in order to go live with her instantly forgettable boyfriend.

Which would be nice if this were a romantic comedy starring Tom Hanks but unfortunately it isn't, in fact it's more like the results of an unholy back alley bumfest between The Crow and I Spit On Your Grave that's been delivered by an alcoholic, hook handed doctor.

And not in a good way.

Anyway back to 'the plot' where her journey is rudely interrupted by a family of horribly cliched inbred bad boy brothers, led by the laughably fey Trey (Grange Hill's Rowland) who decide to kidnap and brutally (is there any other way?) rape our equestrian heroine.

Mr. A. Badboy threatens to shoot an entirely different kind of load to the one your mum is used to over a woman's face yesterday.

Once they're finished with her (but not before wiping their rancid cocks on the curtains and by that I mean had a sandwich), the randy rednecks shoot her in the head, bury her in a field and leave her for dead.

Something we can all identify with doing I'm sure.

Luckily a passing Native American graveyard attendant cum witch doctor named Fred West (Ardavany, the bloke that animates Wallace and Grommit I think) digs her up and re-animates her with his mystical powers.

As you would in this situation.

Wouldn't you know it tho', the resurrection ceremony goes a wee bit wrong and the vengeful spirit of an Apache Chief  (who just happens to have been killed by an ancestor of one of the rascally rapists) hitches a ride back with Zoe in a makeshift attempt to extract his revenge and reclaim his skull, which the boys are currently using as a novelty ashtray.

"Shite in mah previously violently violated mooth ya inbred bastards!"

Realizing his mistake, West explains the whole dead/not dead/possessed/revenge situation to a surprisingly understanding Zoe (either that or she can't make out what he's saying) going on to explain that although she looks alive that her flesh is actually decaying at a normal rate so any revenge taking had better be quick.

Which begs the question why bother resurrecting her in the first place?

Apart from for a laugh obviously.

Cue forty odd minutes of disembowelment, sundry stabbings and a scalping as the gang scratch their heads and try to figure out what's going on.

Unlike the poor audience who are busy scratching their arses and wondering what they've done to deserve such shite.

As the film limps bow-leggedly toward its climax the remaining gang members decide to kidnap Zoe's boyfriend, who spent the last few days (and most of his savings) on photocopying loads of 'have you seen me?' pictures and pinning them up around town.

Which would have been a good idea had he not mistakenly been sticking up pictures of Mr. Ed instead.

They might be smiling now but just wait till the mooth shite-in starts.

Barricaded inside a deserted shed and armed to the teeth with all manner of high velocity assault weapons (and a kids catapult) our bad band sit in and wait for Zoe to return.

And return she does Zoe carrying with her the Chief's favourite (and fairly impressive it has to be said) tomahawk as well as his not as impressive knife as unintentional laughs and gratuitous shots of Adrienne's painfully skinny knees abound as she/he seeks attempts to finish her mentalist maiden massacre whilst hiding from her concerned boyfriend and before one or both of her legs drop off.

No, really.

Seriously I'm not making this shite up.

"Aye hen!"

Imagine a feminist version of the crow written by an overly serious 14 year old boy who'd never seen a film before and you're halfway there, tedious, hilarious and arse numbingly bad in equal measures and with a star so thin that when she turns sideways she appears to drop thru' the sprocket holes in the film.

Savaged is either so cleverly post modern, featuring as it does the juxtaposition of the defiling of the Native American with that of the modern woman as to make it way too intelligent for the likes of me or just utter unadulterated shite with more unintentional laughs than a Comic Relief report on starving kids.

Either way it's entertaining enough and has a climax that'll haunt you forever.

Just not in the way the director was intending.

Or was he?


Perhaps we'll never know.

And frankly I for one don't care.

The end.











































*Tomorrow I will watch something good, I promise.

time and relative dimension in sound.

Today's the day! Celebrate Jodie Whittaker's Doctor Who Premiere with a masterful mix of Cyber samples, Bok beats and Terrifying Terileptil tunes.

Listen here.

sin excess.

Day 6(66) of the whole 31 Days of Horror thing and it's about time to make our acquaintance with....

The Devil Inside (2011).
Dir: William Brent Bell.
Cast: Suzan Crowley, Fernanda Andrade, Evan Helmuth, Ionut Grama, Simon Quarterman, Bonnie Morgan and the Devil, who is inside allegedly.

The Vatican did not endorse this film because it's pure evil. It probably talks about the devil and it's evil ways as he was a good person. Boycott this movie. If you see it you are doomed. - Some sad man on IMDB.

It's October 30, 1989 and fright eyed, shock haired Maria Rossi (Grange Hill's Ms. Soames herself, Crowley) has just murdered the two Catholic priests and obligatory Nun that were attempting to perform an exorcism on her.

Which is a shame if I'm honest seeing as they were only trying to help, I mean it's not like they fucked her kids or anything.

With hindsight this would probably have made the film a wee bit more realistic ans well as a lot more entertaining but I digress.

The Catholic Church are (is?) obviously none too pleased with these events so quickly spirit Maria away to a Vatican approved psychiatric hospital (where the staff all have American accents bizarrely, it's almost like they're not even trying) somewhere in Rome.

"We'll have nun of that!"

Jump forward twenty years and Maria's daughter Isabella (Confessions of a Teen Idol producer Andrade channeling Summer Glau after spending 18 months living on a council estate), alongside the frighteningly ferret like Michael (anagramical actor and Return of the Living Dead: Rave to the Grave extra Ionut Grama) is hard at work making a documentary about exorcisms in the hope of understanding a little more about her mentalist mothers case.

As you can probably guess this involves a trip to Rome to visit the special Vatican sanctioned school of exorcism.

It's whilst attending a lecture there that our heroine comes across a couple of groovy priests, Dominic Keating alike Ben (Holby City's Quarterman) and the ball headed David (MechWarrior 4: Vengeance voice actor and junior Frank Black, Helmuth) who it transpires have both been performing illegal exorcisms for people in need.

Which is kinda lucky.

And would you believe it but the dog collared duo are actually booked to perform an exorcism - on the terrifyingly twisted (both physically and mentally) Rosalita D'Evilsplaygrounde (contortionist Morgan, best known for being a hot redhead and playing the lead beast in JT Petty's magnificent The Burrowers) -  that very afternoon so offer to take Isabella along to watch.

Isabella, obviously excited at the thought of seeing a young teen girl tied to a bed and covered in piss and shit in someone's basement immediately says yes and heads to the car.

Morgan: Spiced.

The Catholic crew, having already determined that it's a case of real possession rather than bad period pains or something are all set to get Holy on her arse and as Michael sets up his camera we're treated to ten minutes of saucy, cock based remarks, a wee bit of wall climbing and finally some bloodied piss before the devilish dame spookily shouts out for Isabella, despite having no knowledge of her.

Creepy.

Eventually tho' our heroes manage to expel the demon before returning home to celebrate with a Cuppasoup and a communion wafer.

Yum.

"The power of Christ compels you to shite in man mooth!"

Deciding that she can't put it off any longer Isabella finally goes to visit her Momma Maria in the asylum, where she finds that not only can her mum speak in a variety of comedy accents that would put Bobby Davro to shame but has also become proficient at painting religious iconography over the walls in her own shite.

Which is certain to break the ice at parties.

But that's not all, for it appears that she can also read minds, telling Isabella off for having a secret abortion before letting rip an ear-shattering scream.

Returning to her hotel and no doubt hoping to see her mother in the same S and M style situation as Rosalita, Isabella asks David and Ben if they'd like to try their powers on an old lady for a change and Ben, obviously being up for a bit of saucy MiLF action (he looks the type) agrees.

But as the Papal posse prepares to perform the exorcism David begins to have second thoughts, worrying about losing his job and - more importantly - if he really should have eaten that last doughnut.

Well it's too late for weighty worry now seeing as it's almost exorcism time.

"Yes it was me....I did indeed eat all the pies".

Heading back to the hospital our Godly gang hardly have time to get their holy water bottles open when Maria starts accusing Ben of bad things and harping on about Isabella's dead baby before breaking free of bonds and, with one punch sending Ben flying across the room before twisting David's nipple.

It's not too surprising then when the hospital staff run in and chuck this 30 something Scooby gang out on their ear.

Bruised, beaten but back home safe Ben carefully analyses the video and audio files they recorded that night in the hope of having enough evidence to convince the Church that an exorcism is needed whilst poor David sits in his room dribbling and crying like a depressed bouncy castle.

Playing the audio files over and over (whilst no doubt looking at nun porn), Ben notices that when Maria was shouting "I know what you did" at her daughter that there are, in fact four different voices speaking in unison.

Ergo, . four different demons.

Which is a surprise to say the least seeing as the budget barely stretches to doing one convincingly.

Davro: Terrifying things.

The next morning David, in an attempt to cheer himself up, offers to is to perform a baptism at his local church and Michael, desperate to make some extra cash, tags along to record it.

The service starts without incident or too many dodgy short skirts and fake tans and everything seems to be going swimmingly until that is David starts muttering some Biblical shite and tries to drown the baby in the holy water.

The parents, after making sure that Michael has got the footage on tape - well that is £200 on You've Been Framed -  save the baby as dangerous Dave passes out in the pews.

The should count themselves lucky tho' that he didn't do what any normal priest would do and try fucking it instead.

Buying a second hand sex doll off Ebay had it's drawbacks.

Returning home after a hard days praying Ben finds David sitting in his room covered in blood and egg with his eyes rolled back into his bulbous head.

Not noticing any difference he begins to make supper only to be interrupted when the local police turn up to arrest our portly pal.

In the ensuing struggle David somehow acquires an officer's gun and decides to hold himself hostage by popping the barrel firmly in his kissy lipped mouth leaving Ben to try and calm him down in the vain hope of preventing a mess on the new wallpaper.

With all this kerfuffle going on David starts crying and reciting The Lord's Prayer before giggling like a loon and shooting himself.

And if that wasn't enough, Isabella starts to spew blood before fainting.

"I love you....could it be magic?"

Taking her to the hospital (but not alas up the casino) Ben is suddenly hit by the realization that Maria's demons are jumping ship and possessing anyone they come into contact with, David first and now Isabella, his fears confirmed when dozens of hospital staff run into Isabella's room screaming something about a bendy mentalist stabbing a nurse.

In the confusion Ben and Michael drag Isabella into the hallway and dose her full of sleepy drugs in order to take her to see a proper exorcist.

Oh right, so now Ben admits he's only an amateur.

Leaving with Isabella dumped in the back of a car, Ben comforts her while Michael sweatily drives but Isabella awakes, taunting Ben about all the horrible things he's done before attempting to strangle Michael.

Ben attempts to beat her off (saucy) but not before Isabella has (laughingly) breathed all over Michael causing him to lose control of the car.

Oh yeah and become possessed.

Will our heroes make it to the church on time?

Will Isabella possess the world?

Or will the screen suddenly turn black as car crash sound effects are played before a caption appears saying 'Find out what happened next at www.therossifiles.com ?

There's no way a director would ever pull something as shite as that would there?

Well you have to hand it to director William Brent Bell, you've got to have balls as big as Bristol to even consider releasing something as horrendously bad as this on the viewing public without fear of a kicking.

And to release a movie without an ending and expect folk to not be a little pissed off at having to find out what happens online is either the height of arrogance or the first sign of mental illness.

But then what do you expect from the guy who made Stay Alive, that 2006 Frankie Muniz starring shitefest that mixed video games and Elizabeth Bathory into one big steaming pile of PG rated cinematic slop?

The acting is almost non existent, the direction is cack handed at best and the plot for what there is of it, is as thin as lead 'actress' Fernanda Andrade's almost anorexic legs.

Need I go on?

Probably not but I should at least mention the fantastically crap photoshopping in the flashback photo scenes, they couldn't have been any worse if they'd given a pair of blunt scissors and Prit-stik to a hook handed child and just let him go crazy.

Sod that they should have let him write and direct the thing as well.

I mean it couldn't be any worse.

Avoid like your uncles cock.

sex and violins.

Pop music, the fashion, killings and a helluva lot of permed hair today in our 31 Days of Horror choice.

Damn that almost sounded semi-professional.

Paganini Horror (AKA The Killing Violin, 1989).
Dir: Luigi Cozzi.
Cast: Jasmine Main, Maria Cristina Mastrangeli, Pascal Persiano, Donald Pleasence, Pietro Genuardi, Giada Cozzi, Elena Pompei and Dame Daria of Nicolodi.

Somewhere on one of the many canals in Venice (or it might be the dirty old stream behind the producers house, who knows) a fright haired, scarily Victorian styled child (the directors daughter, Giada Cozzi) is heading home aboard a row boat cum taxi after a hard day of violin lessons and working part-time as a Railway Children lookie-likey.

Arriving at her palatial abode she happily bolts upstairs to see her mum (who is currently having a soak in what can only be described as a cheap Parisian brothel themed bathroom), stopping only to grab what looks like a glam rock Skeletor doll from her bedroom before skipping into the aforementioned bathroom (it must have cost a bomb to decorate so they have to get their moneys worth) and chucking a hair-dryer into the bath.

Ouch.

Frighteningly I can imagine one of my beautiful twin podlings doing exactly this but I'm not saying which one.

"where's the soap?"

Jumping forward God knows how many years (around seventy odd by the state of the wee girl and her mum I'd wager) and top poodle haired popstrel Kate (Main AKA Jasmine Maimone, the harsh faced star of Demoni and The Black Cat) and her 'rawk' band are busy recording a new single whilst not wearing trousers (less Jem and The Holograms more Jim and The Whorishgrans) and whilst these crazy chicks (and studly drummer Daniel) seem to be enjoying murdering what sounds like a Karaoke cover of You Give Love A Bad Name their monkey browed manager Lavinia (star of the Italian hit Breakdance, Mastrangeli) however is suitably unimpressed.

Basically she thinks it's shit.

Which, if I'm honest it is.

She reckons that to become the top of the pops the band needs something new, something unexpected and maybe a wee bit dangerous and Daniel (Persiano from Demoni 2 and Voices from Beyond) thinks he may have just the thing.

Less Donald where's yer troosers
more Donald where's yer dignity.

Taking a boat to a deserted industrial estate and armed only with a ladies satchel full of dollar bills and a nipple revealing silk shirt he meets up with the mysterious and suavely hatted Mr. Ralph Pickett (Pleasence, one step closer to death and Fatal Frames, poor sod).

Swapping the money for a (fake) leather briefcase (just like the one your geography teacher had) with the spooky lock combination of 666. Daniel excitedly opens the case, revealing a hither to unseen piece of music written by 19th century Italian violinist, violist, guitarist, composer and owner of the most luxurious sideburns in Christendom , Mr. Niccolò Paganini*.

"Baby baby baby!"

Well, it seems this particular piece of music was written specifically for Old Nick himself and is said to have unearthly, nay evil powers tho' Lavinia is more concerned about any copyright/royalty issues.
Daniel puts everyone at ease by Tippexing out Paganini's name and putting his own on there instead (in joined up writing and everything) meaning Kate and co. are free to pick some spooky outfits to wear on stage whilst Lavinia is so impressed that she even hires world famous horror film director (and star of 'V') Mark Singer (Genuardi from Cemetery Man and Gates of Hell) to shoot a 'music video' for it at Paganini's old villa.

The villa by the way is now owned by the strangely attractive - in a senior librarian kinda way - Sylvia (the gloriously gorgeous Nicolodi, who needs no introduction), who is more than happy to welcome a band of talentless half naked, no talent sluts into her home for a few days (for a shed load of cash obviously).

Anyway, we've yet to hear the group play this great song (now entitled Paganini Horror) so let's cut to Kate wandering around the mansion in a white wedding dress like some clap ridden council estate Madonna wannabe whilst Daniel (decked out in a frill fronted shirt and velvet suit that not even Jon Pertwee would be seen dead in topped of with a huge felt fedora, a gold painted poppy eyed skeleton mask and brandishing a gold violin) as Paginini chases her about for a bit before stabbing her in the stomach.
Director boy Mark can hardly contain himself as he shouts "Cut!" whilst Lavinia jumps up and down on the spot like a gin soaked chimp, rubbing her hands together with glee at the thought of all that lovely money she's going to make.

Sylvia on the other hand just stands in the corner holding a tray of tea and biscuits looking incredibly saucy, tapping her feet and nodding her head in time to the music.

Which frankly is enough excitement for any red blooded male.

"Boiled onions!"

Obviously needing to pad the movies meager running time Kate and her pals perform the song again, only this time wearing boob tubes, braces, tiny black skirts and a selection of cocktail waitress outfits (yes even Daniel), luckily Kate's insistence on staring straight into camera, all wild eyed and puckered lipped helps stop the men watching from having any impure thoughts of any kind.

Which makes a nice change.

Anyway all this sexiness is way too much for foxy, firm of tummy bassist Rita (Ravegnini; imagine a youngish, cheaper Joan Collins stinking of gin and holding her shoes at a bus stop and you're halfway there) who, throwing continuity to the wind decides to change out of her electric blue bunny girl outfit into something a wee bit more sensible for the final scenes of the video.

However unknown to her the real demonic violinist (wearing an exact copy of Daniels frankly shoddy Paganini outfit) is hiding behind the coat rail in her dressing room.

Thinking it's Daniel up for a bit of a laugh, Rita lightheartedly tells him to stop looking at her (fairly firm I must admit) breasts and get back to work, totally missing the fact that the violin he's holding has a huge blade attached to its bottom that's pointing straight at her toned flat stomach.

With one graceful move our golden pal plunges the blade into poor old Rita ending any dreams she had of playing bass in a Robert Palmer video (or getting paid) in an instant.

Uncomfortably shuffling and attempting to make small talk whilst waiting for Rita to return, Lavinia makes an incredible leap of logic and deduces that she has, in fact fucked off home after tiring of the whole rock 'n' roll lifestyle and orders Mark to replace he with a shop window dummy in a joke shop wig with a guitar round it's neck.

"No-one will notice" she says.

And on that bombshell Daniel excuses himself and heads off to the toilet where he comes across Rita, resplendent in a soaking, nipple revealing tissue paper dress with wild frizzy hair, lurching around like a (very attractive I'll admit) piss stained tramp.

Holding in his wee, Daniel decides to follow her thru' the cobwebbed corridors at the back of the house and into a small (and unfortunately empty) wine cellar where he's promptly stabbed to death by the violently vicious violinist.

Jade Goody: The Return.

Trapped in the mansion and with a killer on the loose, Kate, Lavinia, Mark and Sylvia can only pray that they'll survive till morning (or at least till Sylvia remembers where she's put the front door key).

Or is there more to the killings than meet the eye?

"Shite in mah mooth!"

From the mind of Italy's third (or is that fourth?) best director named Luigi comes this fantastic tale of music and mentalism topped off with an arse clenchingly bad Eurotrash score, the kind of non-acting usually reserved for prison productions of Chaucer and enough cheese to keep Domino's Pizza in business till the end of time.

Yes dear reader, the film is really that good.

Famous for directing (and writing) some of Italy's most enjoyable movies (oh, and Demons 6), including such classics as the Caroline Munro sci-fi epic Starcrash, the alien egg based thriller Contamination, the Italian re-edit of Toho's Godzilla (or Cozilla as it's widely known) and a couple of Lou (Hulk) Ferrigno Hercules adventures, Paganini Horror is the pinnacle of the great man's work and a perfect example of lo-fi high entertainment at its greatest.

Like all of Cozzi's work the plot may be nonsensical and the production values cheaper than your mum but it doesn't matter as his genuine love for the horror genre oozes like the movies bright red fake blood thru' every frame and the enthusiasm he has for the material infects the actors much like a zombie outbreak.

Everyone involved seems to be having a great time and the audience can't help but be swept along for the ride.

And surely that's what good cinema is all about?

"Put it in me!"

Speaking of the cast, Donald Pleasence seems to be having a ball (probably not a leathery one) in his cameo as the sinister Mr. Pickett, all twinkly eyes and dodgy accents whilst the goddess that is Daria Nicolodi is at once sinister, sexy and motherly in a role that would fade into obscurity had it been played by a lesser actress, she even manages to look good in an outfit that even Lady GaGa wouldn’t be seen dead in.

The woman is a legend and should be worshiped frankly.

Even the worst members of the cast are great; Jasmine Main's manic eyed performance seems to consist mainly of teeth, a bubble perm and the ability to screech whilst not looking good in a skimpy outfit (which must take real talent judging by the outfits) but it's pitch perfect for a film where everyone else appears to be just wandering around in a badly dubbed haze of harsh red and blue lighting waiting to be offed by what looks like a giant child's home made puppet monstrosity made flesh.

Which is no bad thing.

Some cinema somewhere should be brave enough to organise a Cozzi weekender so that the great man's work can be foisted on an unsuspecting public brainwashed by crap commercial horror fare and lowest common denominator action pants.

The fuckers wouldn't know what hit them.

The campaign begins here people.

Let the world's first Cozzi-Con become a reality.





























*As you're probably already aware Paganini, got into a bit of bother whilst lying on his deathbed, as he was convinced that he just had a mild dose of the Flu, so decided not to call his local priest with regards to giving him his last rights.

Which would have been OK had he not popped his clogs within minutes of this decision.

In true News of The World fashion, the gossip columnists of the time took this as a sign that the poor guy had sold his soul to Satan.

This is of course total bollocks.

But when has fact ever gotten in the way of a good story?

crocoshite.

Day 4 of the whole 31 Days of Horror shtick and it's time to pop on our swimsuits and chance an encounter with the...
Killer Crocodile (1989).
Dir: Fabrizio De Angelis (as Larry Ludman).
Cast: Sherrie Rose, Van Johnson, Ennio Girolami, John Harper, Richard Anthony Crenna, Ann Douglas, Julian Hampton, Bill Wohrman and a huge crocodile.

In what looks like a garden pond somewhere in the deep south (it's the trousers), a couple of pissed stained and hideously dubbed old men are sitting in a kiddies boat discussing the current state of the river and lack of fish therein.

As the camera slowly glides, well judders, in towards our old chums as they continue their ad-libbed rant a big wooden bright green emulsioned crocodile jumps out of the bushes behind them whilst making a roaring sound, it's mouth stiffly opening and closing like an old barn door.


Cue the Jaws theme (well as near as dammit without getting sued) as we're treated to a croc's eye view of a filth ridden pond whilst, on the not too distant shore a man with a guitar and a bowl haired lady get out of a car.

Exciting stuff.

Obviously intrigued as to what's going on the crocodile silently watches as guitar man starts to pluck his funky stuff, much to the chagrin of his girlfriend whose expression seems to fluctuate between slightly bored, annoyed and comatose.

"I can see your house from here Peter".

Finishing his romantic serenade, Mr. Music reveals his true intentions; he means to have the sex with the lady.

Unfortunately (for him) she prefers to frolic about in what looks like a sewage overflow rather than let him put it in her.

Them the breaks I suppose.

Within seconds of entering the water tho' our small-hipped heroine is attacked by the so called 'killer' crocodile and dragged off to her death.

"MONSTA!"

Meanwhile somewhere in the Philippines a group of instantly forgettable mature students are searching the local waterways for evidence of illegal chemical dumping.

Sexy bespectacled Mark (Hampton AKA Pietro Genuardi from Paganini Horror and Dellamorte Dellamore) is busy taking random photos (hoping no doubt to get a few upskirt shots) whilst Kevin (Crenna son of the late great Richard) and his pal Bob (Harper) are busying themselves hitting the water with a stick.

It wouldn't be an Italian horror movie without some attractive ladies but obviously the budget wouldn't stretch so here we have the permanently scowling Pamela (Rose), the 'handsome'  Jennifer (Douglas, looking like someone's mum)  and buck-toothed local beauty Cynthia (possibly).

There is also a small dog which none too surprising is more charismatic than the rest of the cast combined.

"My dog's got no knob". "How does it make love?" "It's a bitch".

Although Cynthia is convinced that their expedition is fruitless it's not long before our tree-hugging chums come across a huge pile of rusted beer barrels oozing shaving foam.

On their sides reads "TOXIC WASTE, PROPERTY OF MR. B. ADMAN'S CHEMICAL COMPANY".

Bob, wearing his best decorating overalls and a gimp mask swims over to the barrels in order to take a radiation reading, which is pretty smart seeing as he's actually holding a Karl Zeiss light meter, and what do you know, it goes off the scale.

Heading back to the boat he declares that things are worse than he initially thought and the industrial waste they've just discovered is the worst kind imaginable, it's so toxic that it could possibly make crocodiles grow to giant sizes.

Realizing that the expedition is ill equipped to handle a clean up job of this magnitude (fuck it, they'd be hard put to organize a kiddies boat party), Kevin decides that they should camp out overnight then approach the local authorities the next morn.

Being characterless lemmings the others just nod in agreement.

"Must kill water with stick!"

With night fast approaching our intrepid crew set up camp at the edge of the local play park (near the duckpond) and spend the rest of the evening trying to decided who is the most tired/least attractive/next to die etc. whilst our doggy pal, bored with such human pursuits and desperate for a shite merrily runs off into the trees.

A few minutes later the groups monotonous conversation is interrupted by a huge yelp.

Being a dirty foreigner (compared to the others of course) and being the only non-named actor in the cast it's obviously Cynthia's job to go look for the furry lil devil, calling out as she wanders through the bushes, eventually arriving at where the boat is docked.

It's a bloody big park.

Kneeling at the waters edge she finds the dog's bloodied collar but before she has time to even scream the crocodile jumps out of the water and eats her whole.

Which is weird because they usually spit that bit out.*

Sade, up the casino, Brighton, 1987....YESCH!

The next morning as the crew begin to tidy away their camping equipment they begin to wonder as to the whereabouts of Cynthia but only for a few minutes because in no time at all their sailing off to town to report the pollution.

They're not all bad tho' as they do make a few half arsed attempts to call out her name as they leisurely chug down stream.

Arriving in town the group jump into a dilapidated old truck in search of the police station whilst a mysterious man in a hat watches from behind a bush.

Bizarrely enough our cool crew discover that not only does the town have no law enforcement at all but also that the fish market doubles as a morgue (but only on Tuesdays), anything legal is dealt with by a sprightly old ginger gentleman called the judge (former Hollywood heart-throb Van Johnson, obviously over his head in unpaid rent boys) and points them in the right direction.

Basically they're told to follow the smell of gin, piss and lavender.

Beware children, this Van is not full of sweets.

Unfortunately the judge is a bit of a bastard, togged up in his thin cotton finery and nipple revealing shirt and wastes no time in telling the plucky conservationists to fuck off before he puts them in jail for some reason or another.

After a half-hearted bitch fest where Pamela accuses the judge of being in bed with the man from the chemical factory (not literally mind, tho' I wouldn't put it past him, I mean Bill Wohrman is a fairly hunky piece o' meat) our teens head back to the boat deciding, like a cut-price junked up Scooby gang to search for Cynthia themselves.

As they leave the man in question, Jeff Sexington Foley (the aforementioned Wohrman) forces himself thru' the judges backdoor and demands that the meddling kids be dealt with. The judge however just sighs and cryptically tells Foley that he will have to stop "dumping his stuff in the swamp".

Is it just me or is this movie going all homo-erotic?

Insert cock here.

Back on the boat the group are busy using all their skills to find their friend which, I admit appears to involve splashing the water with a big stick whilst occasionally shouting her name.

The tedium is soon broken when the boat runs aground on a big rock, which at least gives them another reason to use the stick and Pamela an excuse to strip to her bra and pants.

Seriously tho' that's not as promising as it sounds.

Seductively swimming around the boat in an attempt to dislodge it Pamela pulls a big branch away from the hull and is fairly shocked when a half chewed Cynthia pops up.

Dragging her aboard (and searching her pockets for loose change) our heroes reckon she's been attacked by a massive (maybe chemically mutated) crocodile and head back to town to confront the judge.

Put it in me!

This would probably be a good idea if the local doctor wasn't in the judges pocket too because even tho' he kinda admits it looks a wee bit like a crocodile attack he's all too happy to side with the evil Foley, who suggests that the group murder their guide for some strange reason he hasn't thought of yet.

Just as the hanging (to the left) judge is about to have them arrested (by whom we are never told) the legend that is Sir Ennio of Girolami enters the room.

He will be playing the role of Joe, the huge hatted, hairy chested rough n' tough big game hunter for the rest of the movie and it's a pleasure to have him aboard.

Joe knows his stuff and after examining Cynthia's wounds announces that they're looking for a crocodile that's least 20 feet long that answers to the name of Terry.

More importantly tho' Joe offers to find it, kill it and skin it.

But not necessarily in that order. 

Bruce Forsyth picks a ring.

Back at the group's boat, Jennifer and Kevin convince the others (over a few beers) that they owe it to Cynthia to find the crocodile responsible and, um, make sure no-one kills it so that they can prove that Foley is dumping his muck in the river.

But for this they're going to need Joe's help.

As is the way in these situations our heroes decide that it'd be best to get Joe drunk before broaching the subject so, wallets in hand head over to the local bar cum bingo hall, not noticing the crocodile slowly swimming it's way to the dock behind them.

"shite (actor) in mah mooth!"

As Kevin, Pamela, Joe and the gang sit and enjoy a Babycham or three whilst discussing the best way to catch a crocodile a small raggedy girl sits happily playing with a Cabbage Patch kid on the dock (her family can't be that poor then) as a couple of local bad boys aimlessly toss a ball about before deciding it'd be much better fun to knock the doll into the water.

Cue the almost Jaws theme and ten minutes of kiddie based terror as the crocodile attempts to eat the screaming child as she clings onto the rapidly sinking dock for dear life, the towns folk standing around nonchalantly on the shoreline as if watching a football match.

How fucking unpopular must this kid be?


Luckily at least one of the townsfolk seems to care (it's either her dad or the local pedo) as one guy runs towards the dock to help but rather than just pull the girl up he climbs down into the water (next to the crocodile) and attempts (badly) to push her up.

Or at least get a good glimpse of her undies before she dies.

Not too surprisingly he slides into the crocodiles massive mouth and gets eaten, alongside a second rescuer who clumsily puts his foot in a hole right above the still hungry crocodile and (you'll never guess) gets eaten too.

It's like the Darwin Awards gone mad.

By this time our heroes have turned up at the dock to see what all the shouting was about and within seconds have jumped into action, Kev and Bob jump into the water and begin beating the crocodile with a big plank whilst Joe shoots randomly at anything that moves.

Mark on the other hand is busy taking photo's in the hope of at least getting 50 quid from You've Been Framed.

Oh no, the little girl slides into the water but luckily Bob manages to grab her hair and throw her to safety whilst Joe continues to shoot things from his boat.

By this time the crocodile has decided that he's had enough of this eating extras lark and swims off into the middle distance as Joe waves his fist at it between shooting at stuff.

The scene is now set for a battle like no other (alright a battle like the end of Jaws, Orca Killer Whale et al.) as Joe prepares to kill the crocodile and Mark and co. prepare to save it....

I predict blood, sweat and eggy stains.

From the fevered mind of ex-postman cum producer and director Fabrizio De Angelis comes probably the greatest Van Johnson starring killer crocodile movie ever made.

I would have said Ennio Girolami starring but as we all know, he's also in the sequel, directed by SFX god Giannetto De Rossi.

But we're leaping ahead of ourselves, what of the original (and best) of the pair?

"Not the face love!"

Well what can you say about a movie that epitomizes everything that is so right (and so, so wrong) with low budget '80's Euro' horror cinema?

Shoddy camera work, sunburned actors, stilted almost surrealist dubbing, ludicrously fashionable haircuts and a lack of respect for the laws of storytelling that would make Baron Munchhausen balk crash headlong into an almost 'fuck you' disregard for budgetary constraints as it proudly displays it's star attraction, a 20 foot long balsa wood crocodile for all to see.

And for that I can only salute all involved.


The perfect bedmate for Enzo G. Castellari's The Last Shark, this film needs to be seen (and revered) by today's teen horror fans as a shining example of what can be achieved for 30 quid and a cheap awayday ticket to the seaside.

Jon Turteltaub please take note.



*Can we take a moment to celebrate that particular jokes 976th appearance on this blog. Thank you.

(pre) video tasties.

In those heady days before VHS - between 1961 and 1966 to be precise - those groovy Italians created the next best thing for rthose of us wanting to relive our favourite horror movies; the fantastic foto magazine Malìa.

Each issue retold a movies story in crisp B & W photo form over 60 pages and the series itself covered a remarkable array of horror films from across the globe taking in Italy, Mexico, Spain, dear old Blighty and the USA.

Enjoy!