Sunday, December 5, 2021

what the world needs now....

 Is more Jane Asher.


Thursday, December 2, 2021

blue is the warmest colour.

Someone I know (as in a real person, not one of the pretend 'friends' that lives in my head) watched this today so reckoned it'd be a fine time to reshare this review seeing as - surprise surprise - no one has actually read it.

Blue Sunshine (1977 - or maybe even 78 no one seems sure).
Dir: Jeff Lieberman.
Cast: Zalman King, Deborah Winters, Robert Walden, Bill Cameron, Ann Cooper, Mark Goddard, Brion James, Adriana Shaw and Charles Siebert.

There's a bald maniac in there, and he's going bat shit!

You know it's the 70's when your movie for the evening opens with a grainy shot of a massive full moon whilst and synthesized kazoo soundtrack blares in the background before finally settling on a hideously flock wallpapered corridor resplendent with brown, bell-bottomed extras.

But it's not all flares and flammable fabrics as we're soon introduced to a diddy doctor named David Bloom (Walden) who's spending his evening eying up cancer stricken old ladies with a look of either mild concern or just plain confusion.

Don't worry tho' because before we can get bored with all this caring stuff we're suddenly taken to a gorgeous n' groovy 'pad' (ask your granddad) where Lego haired homebody Wendy (Cooper, a kinda council estate version of Adrienne Barbeau) is uncomfortably reading a bedtime story to a couple of children.

I'm assuming that they're hers and that she hasn't just kidnapped them but with low budget 70's horror you can never be sure, as it happens she's babysitting for her neighbour in order to take her mind off her impeding divorce from local congressman Ed Flemming (Lost In Space star Goddard).

I'm sorry, I appear to have inadvertently popped a daytime soap in my player in place of a cult 70's classic...

Your mums cum me I know.

Not too surprisingly she's feeling quite tender as well as prone to upsetting headaches so as you can probably imagine that when halfway thru' the kiddies bedtime story (it's Rapunzel by the way) the small girl child tugs on her hair pulling a handful out that Wendy gets a wee bit upset.

Meanwhile across town the big-binned wife of potato-faced beat cop (sounds groovy) John O'Malley (Cameron, father of the former British PM) Barbara (Shaw who's probably been in other stuff but I can't be arsed checking) is busy crying/flirting on her neighbours shoulder in regard to her hubbie working late/never being home/loving his parrot more then her etc - plus the fact that since hs hair has been falling out in clumps that she doesn't fancy him much - typical marriage then really.

Suddenly John returns home and just stares blankly at his wife and pal for a few seconds more than necessary.


Jumping around even more than your mum on speed we're suddenly at a hip n' happening party where the bush-barnetted beefcake Jerry Zipkin (latter day erotic thriller god and former Jesus, King) is getting down with his lady love Alicia (Winters) whilst Blade Runner star Brion James squats on the arm of a chair pretending to be a budgie.

No, really.

Savile: The Return.
But that, believe it or not is the most embarrassing thing to happen at the party.

That'll be when check-jacketed pube-haired Frannie Packet (Crystal, brother of Billy) decides to impress the group with an impromptu Tom Jones impression whilst fondling the buttocks of one of his pals girlfriends.

Which is nice.

Playful scuffling ensues with culminates in the aforementioned lady accidentally pulling of Frannie's wig which not only reveals his massive shiny head but causes his eyes to bulge like massive eggs.

Eggs with pupils drawn on them obviously.

He legs it out of the front door with his (bloke) buddies - and Jerry's girlfriend, well she is the female lead - in hot pursuit, the ladies staying in the warm and get pissed which really sums up how they must feel about the whole thing if I'm honest.

As Jerry and Alicia start rifling thru the bins for any sign of their follically challenged chum and the other buddies drive around in circles Frannie sneaks back into the party and starts drooling over the dinner table, much to the ladies disgust.
Which wouldn't actually be so much of a social faux pas if he didn't then batter one of them to death with a mop handle before throwing one into the open fire and finally punching the last girl standing in the face.

Capt. Jack Sparrow: The Bri-Nylon years.
Hearing the screams Jerry hurries back to the party only to come across (not in that way) a blood spattered Frannie legging it into the darkness.
Being our hero for the evening Jerry gives chase and in a fight scene that would do Blakes Seven proud pushes Frannie under an oncoming truck.
Pity that the trucks occupants are very happy with losing their no claims bonus and decide to shoot our hero as he tries to explain what's happened.
Americans eh?
Thinking fuck this for a game of darts, Jerry jumps in a car and drives away desperately trying to think how he's going to explain the whole sorry situation to his gran.
Nutted but still sucking.
Back at the house party cum bloodbath the police are already busy questioning Alicia whilst across town Jerry makes his way to see his old pal Dr Bloom for a sticking plaster and cold coffee enema for his gunshot wound.

That stuff earlier wasn't just filler.

Meeting up with Alicia the next day Jerry is shocked to see a newspaper headline (or he may have just been admiring the pretty lips of the old man reading it) regarding a recent spate of killings involving - wait for it - a bald man.
But not just any bald man.
You see it looks like  John O'Malley may have gone crazy and murdered his family.
And his neighbour.
And his neighbours dog.

Could the headaches and hair loss be related?
Go on, guess.

Leslie Dixon: Still fears the chives.

As is the way with such tales Jerry decides to take it on himself to prove his innocence at to this end breaks into the  O'Malley house to search for clues.

Oh yes and to also have an almost proto-Will Graham flashback/vision of the crime being committed as the ex-cops pet budgie squawks the words 'Blue Sunshine' from a nearby wardrobe.

If that wasn't freaky enough it seems that  O'Malley was something of an amateur photographer and has photos of many of the main cast pinned on his wall, the words 'Blue Sunshine' written below each of them.

Heading back to Dr Blooms office (look the running time isn't that long) Jerry discovers that ten years previously, when they were all students at the local tech they'd all bought doses of acid (named....wait for it....'Blue Sunshine') from Bloom himself.

Luckily (for him) he was a good guy and never tried the stuff himself.

His bald spot is fortunately quite natural.

It's now left to Jerry (and Alicia) to find the other ex-dopeheads and warm them of their condition before it's too late, which in Wendy's case is probably about now seeing as she's quite literally just flipped her wig and started chasing the kids around the house with a bread knife.

Tho' this might just be a 70's parenting thing who knows?

"Put it in me!"

 It's not all slapheaded stabbing tho' as there's still the matter of convincing sleazy senator Flemming that he's somehow in danger too (possibly) so Alicia using her feminine charms (either that or she hypnotizes him with her massive glasses) to persuade his ex-quarterback (whatever that means) college pal turned  bodyguard to meet her 'for drinks' at a political rally cum puppet show cum disco at the local mall.

Which sounds brilliant even if all these killings weren't going on.

Unfortunately Mr Beef had also indulged in a wee bit o' Blue in the past and that coupled with the pint of Babycham he orders caused him to lose his mind (and his hair) and go batshit crazy to a grooving disco score as polyester clad cool people dive for cover.

Will Jerry be able to convince everyone that bad drugs - and not he - did the bad killings or will there be (mass) murder on the dance floor?

 Will Flemming manage to hold onto his election?

And will the talented talking budgie turn up to save the day?

From genius Jeff Lieberman, the man behind Squirm, Just Before Dawn and the frankly fantastic Satan's Little Helper comes this psychedelic slice of 70's pill popping paranoia that plays out like an episode of Columbo as scripted by Larry Cohen.

Albeit when he was a wee bit busy and could only manage a rough first draft.

Solidly directed, tightly edited and played with just the right amount of stoic conviction from it's cast, Blue Sunshine may unravel a wee bit toward the climax but the plots sheer delicious deliriousness more than makes up for any hiccups along the way

Sophie Ellis Bextor: Stolen groove (and clothes) not shown.

Plus it has the added bonus of being genuinely creepy in parts thanks in no small way to Charles Gross' sinisterly scary score and the casts really big eyes.

Even the featured song Disco Blue by the fantastically named Humane Society For The Preservation Of Good Music is a winner.

And talking of music any film that's good enough for Steve Severin  and Robert Smith to name their collaborative album after is good enough for me.

And by default you too.

Good day.

Thursday, November 25, 2021

bin raidin'.

Released on this very day in 1983, Ruggero Deodato's disco-tastic dystopian epic doesn't get a quarter of the love it deserves so I'm rewatching it right NOW and then reposting this review to see if I can change that.

Which is fair enough.

I mean I don't need to explain myself to you, you're not my dad.

The Raiders Of Atlantis (AKA Atlantis Interceptors, Atlantis Inferno, I predatori di Atlantide. 1983)
Dir: Ruggero Deodato.
Cast: Christopher Connelly, Gioia Scola, Tony King, George Hilton, Ivan Rassimov, Mike Miller, Bruce Baron, Michele Soavi, Giancarlo Prati, Maurizio Fardo, Mike Monty, John Vasallo, Lewis A. Cianelli, James Demby and Audrey Perkins.

"This don't look like no advanced civilization
to me - just a bunch of trees!"

Rough and tumble, pastel clad heroes for hire Mike Smith (mottle skinned Connelly from Manhattan Baby) and Geoff 'Mohammad' Washington (King AKA Malik Farrakhan from Cannibal Apocalypse and BJ and the Bear), make ends meet by chloroforming then kidnapping old men on the orders of the US government for $50,000 a shot.

Which is nice work if you can get it.

Having delivered an old fella to a mysterious colonel whilst wisecracking about Vietnam and Washington's conversion to Islam, the pair decide to set sail to the Caribbean for a well deserved holiday.

By some strange coincidence, a secret Navy project is getting under way in the same bit of ocean and the tiny faced, 80s council estate Ashley Judd-alike science type, Dr. Cathy Rollins (Desirable Teacher and Until Death 'star' Scola of whom, it must be said, I had a huge crush on in my teens to a point where I actually wrote her a fan letter*) has been - forcibly - drafted in to help decipher an ancient, skull embossed plaque discovered on the ocean floor.

The projects head, the bespectacled and knee length shorted Professor Peter Saunders (Hilton from such classics The Case of the Bloody Iris and Holy God, Here Comes the Passatore!) explains that they came across it (not literally) whilst trying to raise a Russian sub that had sunk a few months earlier.

Being an expert on pre-Columbian dialects of almost Daddy Pig proportions, Rollins has absolutely no trouble in translating the strange markings on the plaque and announces that it tells the whereabouts of the fabled lost city of Atlantis.


Meanwhile in a mysterious Caribbean isle hotel room, a spooky man in his granddad's suit slowly opens a wall safe and removes a joke shop plastic skull mask from it, gazing lovingly at it before popping it onto his tiny head.

I'm just relieved that he didn't force it up his arse.

Talking of tiny heads - and anal insertions, it's action stations all the way back on the government submarine stealing base as Rollin's takes a break from transcribing ancient inscriptions (and a sell out spoken word tour) to peer at a grainy black and white monitor showing superimposed images of a child's bath toy slowly rising to the surface of a fish tank.

Suddenly the whole place goes haywire as indoor firework style sparks shower the set and the light fuses blow.

As the crew run around like small girls being chased by a wasp it's left to the director of Delamore Dellamorte to lead everyone to the lifeboats.

But what's happening back on that island with the skull-faced man I hear you cry?

Well so far nothing seeing as we've cut to a garishly clad couple, Arthur and Maude who, upon leaving their house are shocked and frightened by the amount of grainy stock footage of thunderstorms in the distance.

Maude is understandably upset and wants to go back into the house but as she turns to enter the porch plastic skull face turns up (surrounded by a motley assortment of leather clad and mohawk headed pikeys) and shoots her in the throat before parking his bike up Arthur's arse .

Finally some bum-based action.

Boris Johnson reveals his true form.

Mike and Washington, alongside their oiled Filipino cabin boy Manuel (Vasallo in his only credited screen appearance - shame) are having problems of their own trying to guide the boat thru' giant waves whilst dodging the huge domed city that's appeared out of the ocean in front of them.

The trio are surprisingly nonchalant about the whole thing which is quite refreshing for this type of movie, well at least they are until the outboard motor explodes and the last crate of beer falls overboard.

Luckily the films fades to black before it can get too exciting (or expensive) and next thing we know it's the following morning.


The sea is calm and Washington and Manuel seem to have forgotten about their earlier ordeal and are busying themselves rescuing the survivors (including Italian cinema's sexiest man, Sir Ivan of Rassimov in the pivotal role of daredevil pilot Bill Cook) from the base whilst Mike makes googly eyes at Cathy.

Who it appears seems young enough to be his daughter but let's not dwell on that.

Mercifully for the viewer this uncomfortable display of old man lust is cut short when Manuel suddenly becomes a mentalist and grabs Cathy by her scrawny throat, threatening to kill anyone who gets in his way.

It appears that Manuel has received a psychic message telling him that 'Cathy is needed'.

It mustn't be that important tho' seeing as he's happy enough to jump overboard without her.

"To me!" "To you!"

With everyone just standing about staring at each other trying to figure what just happened, nobody notices that the boat has run aground on a deserted beach until Cathy decides to go skinny dippy, jumps overboard and grazes her knee on a discarded Irn Bru bottle.

Mike being the oldest (by about seventy years) takes charge and decides that they should head inland and try to find a phone.

Or at least find the guy who runs the donkey rides across the sand.

Approaching the nearest town our intrepid (or is that tepid?) band are shocked to find the whole place in ruins with buildings ablaze, cars overturned and corpses hanging from every telegraph pole.

Mike mistakenly thinks that they've arrived in Manchester and whilst desperately trying to score some skag of an illiterate inbred on a street corner bumps into his old pal Manuel, still nutty as squirrel shit and here to warn them to get Cathy back to the boat before 'they' arrive to take her.

Top Gear's gone a bit shit.

But it's a warning too late as the infamous 'they' (plastic skull face and his merry band of homo-erotic bikers) arrive and start shooting at things whilst showing their oiled nipples to all and sundry forcing Mike and co. to take shelter in a church.

All that is except the resident ginger man who runs towards the leather clad gang shouting “They’re human! They’ll listen to reason!” before being shot in the face and nailed to a tree.

Which is fair enough I reckon.

Waiting till nightfall and the bad boy bikers going home to bed, Mike and Bill lead the survivors to the (relative) safety of a nearby warehouse packed with cases of rifles, unlimited ammunition and a big box of napalm.

Which is pretty damn lucky if you ask me.

On a less interesting note the warehouse is also hiding place to a balding camp man in a tuxedo (Fardo from The Bronx Warriors 2 and Demons 6 which I must admit sounds like the best football result ever), his fairly unattractive daughter and his very unattractive wife.

Don't worry tho', they'll be dead soon.

It's not long before the barking bikers return to torment and taunt Mike and his pals whilst handily standing still on top of walls within easy shooting distance.

“We have returned!” shouts plastic before sending his men into the warehouse to snatch Cathy, leaving Mike no alternative but to give chase.

What a guy.

Running around the backlot, his turkey neck glistening with sweat Mike chances upon a hefty German man (Mike Miller, not this one I assume) in a fetching headband who goes by the name of Klaus.

Being a typical German he's been wandering around for days spoiling for the chance to fight someone.

Or at the very least find somewhere to place his towel.

Not too surprisingly he jumps at the chance to join Mike's quest.

Returning to the warehouse and reading thru' Cathy's notebook (in the hope of finding some nude pictures of her obviously) Mike discovers that Atlantis sank as a consequence of a big civil war culminating in the use of a nuclear bomb, ergo the radiation leaking from the downed Soviet sub is what must have caused the island to rise again.

Obvious really.

There's a downside to all this domed city and psychic nonsense tho' as it seems that the radiation has caused all the surviving Atlanteans to become forgetful which is why they need Cathy as it seems only she knows how to raise  Atlantis for good.

And yes, I know it's all bollocks, I've just had to type it.

Scola: Nice shoes, shit sofa.

But Mike, being brave and desperate for a shag has a rescue plan which involves commandeering a bus to travel to the local airport and steal a helicopter to fly to Atlantis, kill everyone there and leave with Cathy over his shoulder.

Yup, works for me.

After an exciting bus journey and a few more killings they do indeed steal a helicopter and fly toward the bubblicious Atlantis where, upon landing they kill a few more leather-clad Atlantean types whilst Professor Saunders (yes, he's still alive and wearing shorts) decides that neutralizing the radiation from the submarine may indeed cause Atlantis to sink again, saving everyone from being over-run by plastic skull wearing mentalists on motorbikes.

Or something.


Whilst all this killing and science is going on Cathy has had time to dress up in a seventies disco-whore outfit and have a conversation with some old men projected onto a wall.

Her lack of any visible acting ability makes me think that she's either drunk or under hypnosis seeing as she's not only readily agreed to help the Atlantean's take over the world but seems to believe all the frankly techno-bollocks chat that's being banded about.

Saying that tho' her legs to look particularly nice in those glittery tights so it's not all bad.

But time (and the viewers patience) is running out.

"Shite in mah Atlantean mooth!"

Will Mike be able to rescue Cathy in time to take her out for the promised spinach supper?

Will the Professor be able to turn off the nuclear radiation?

Or will the plastic skull man take over the world?

Go on, guess.

What film are we talking about?

The controversy courting king of the cannibals Ruggero Deodato's little seen action epic Raiders of Atlantis is a majestically mental mix of gruesome gore, mystical mumbo jumbo and post-apocalyptic thrills, riffing Indiana jones and the Hong Kong classic Fantasy Mission Force along the way before mixing the entire thing to a tepid disco beat courtesy of the fantastic Guido De Angelis and Maurizio De Angelis under the alias Oliver Onions.

I'll give you a second to take all that in and then ask....

What's not to like?

Gioia Scola: Ask your dad.

For better or worse, Deodato will probably only be remembered (by all but the most devoted film enthusiasts) for his infamous mockumentary shocker Cannibal Holocaust (and possibly House on the Edge of the Park but for all the wrong reasons) which is a shame really, as his most enjoyable (and accessible) works are the ones that no-one seems to have seen.

And if they have they rarely seem to talk about them.

From the sexy swashbuckling Lucretia love starring comic book adaptation Zenabel to the sublime crime thriller Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man (AKA The Terminators) via the lo-fi Airport: 79 rip off Concorde Affaire '79 (AKA Concorde Inferno '79), Deodato is a director whose genuine love of cinema (and more importantly an appreciation of the sheer enjoyment that films can give) shines thru' even the most threadbare and nonsensical plots.

And much like the great man's drug busting actioner Cut And Run, The Raiders Of Atlantis might be total bollocks but you can't deny that it's utterly enjoyable.

And you can't say fairer than that can you?

Scola: Any excuse.

*She never replied.

Monday, November 22, 2021

time and relative dimensions in sound.

 Over 3 hours of masterful mixes, Mondasian music, Cyber sounds and Bok beats celebrating 58 years of all things Doctor Who!



Tuesday, November 16, 2021

scared stiff.

Noticed the distinct lack of films on the blog of late and thought I'd remedy that by actually watching one for a change as opposed to just posting my rather lackluster music mixes (not my description by the way) so last night I decided to rewatch the classic Buster Crabbe starrer The Alien Dead, partly because I'm a sucker for Fred Olen Ray but mostly because I've always loved the cover still from The Evil Dead publicity shoot and try to watch all the films that have ever used it.*

Unfortunately I didn't have my glasses on so I accidentally picked this up instead and by the time I'd popped the cassette in (yup, I can be old school as the kids say sometimes) and sat down I really couldn't be arsed getting up and going thru' the whole thing again.

That'll teach me.

Alien Zone (AKA House of The Dead, Zone of the Dead, Last Stop on 13th St. 1978).
Dir: Sharron Miller.
Cast: John Ericson, Ivor Francis, Judith Novgrod, Bernard Fox, Charles Aidman, Burr DeBenning and Richard Gates.

“After they’re dead, I get them. That’s my work.”

Welcome to Stillwater Minnesota on a wet Wednesday night where successful plumber Jeff Talmudge (Ex-Playgirl Man of the Month and creator of the Sony mobile phone, Ericson) is busy laying pipe of a totally different kind before attending the plumbers convention held in the local town hall.

No really.

Finishing up his romantic liaison with a quick wipe of his cock on the curtains he hails a cab back to his hotel only to be dropped off on the wrong street leaving him lost, confused and soaking wet.

Wandering around in the rain he soon comes across the white haired weirdo Mr Vic Sinister (Francis, who just happens to be - or was - Jonathan 'Star Trek' Frakes' father-in-law) who invites him into his house to dry off.

As they sit chatting about plumbing and stuff Mr Sinister informs Talmudge that he's the local mortician and - if he fancies it - is willing to show him a couple of dead bodies and tell him how they died.

Which I'm sure is a wee bit unethical.

Tho' I'm not a mortician so wouldn't really know for sure so if any are reading please write in a tell me.

Anyway it turns out that he's not just any old mortician but the mortician who gets to hand pick the most interesting cases so each one of the four deaths he's about to talk about are sure to be belters.

With nothing better to do Talmudge follows Mr Sinister to the morgue.....

Your mum's cum me I know, your uncle Peter told me.

Opening the casket closest to hand Vic begins his macabre tales with the life (but mainly death) of the harsh-faced harridan Miss Sibiler (Bare Knuckles star Novgrod) an angry, control freak type teacher with a risk assessment obsession (probably) who harbors a deep hatred for children.**

You can tell this because as she's heading to her car after doing a wee bit of shopping she stops to shout "I hate you children!" at some kids in the street before driving away.

Arriving home she resigns herself to a frozen meal for one and some copyright free music on the radio but as she busies herself preparing for an evening alone with a half-frozen chicken and a bottle of cheap Aldi gin she begins to hear noises around her apartment.

It soon becomes clear that someone or something is attempting to mess with her little pin-like head so she decides - as you do -  to take a shower giving the director ample opportunity to do something a wee bit creepy Ala Psycho but alas all we get is a cardboard cut out shadow and a close-up of hideous shower cap.

Realising that this is an anthology (or portmanteau if you prefer) film poor Sibiler screams like a girl (obviously) and runs downstairs to find her house full of children clad  in hellish 70s bri-nylon fashions and a collection of poundshop Halloween masks.

For those of you about to say that this all sounds a bit shit hold on, because the director has an ace up their sleeve for as the children slowly remove their masks it's revealed that they're all wearing fake teeth.

And dribbling.

"come in the back of me car and let me bite you!" - The fucking state of this, honestly.

Cue 5 minutes of bizarro disco lighting and Top of The Pops style FX as Sibiler retreats into a corner looking slightly worried before we're back with Vic and Jeff, the mortician explaining that no-one really knows who bit the poor woman to death.

So he's actually just making this shit up then?

Before Talmudge can comment we're onto corpse number 2 which belongs to (as in it's actually his body, he hasn't bought it on Ebay or something) the infamous murderer Alan Growski (70s TV stalwart and star of The Incredible Melting Man DeBenning).

"Is it in yet?"

Played for sinister (PG friendly) laughs the murders are intercut with footage of Growski being lead away by the police whilst being asked if he really did kill them, which is kinda redundant if you think about it.

Realising that this tale is utter toffee we're soon back with Mr Vic who says that after him feeling famous for doing all the bad murders the authorities refused to film him in the electric chair.

So I guess that's the twist then.


Shuffling uncomfortably and checking his watch Talmudge looks on as the morose mortician approaches (yet another) coffin whilst beginning the story of top 'tec Malcolm Toliver (Aidman who was once nominated for Primetime Emmy Award for Outstanding Original Music And Lyrics, fact fans) who has recently been voted America's Best Criminologist (Ever!) by - um - American Criminologist Magazine.

Or was it Titbits?

Anyway whilst solving a gay love tryst hanging (as you do) who should turn up but the famed Inspector Andy McDowell (Dr. Bombay from Bewitched and Colonel Crittendon in Hogan's Heroes himself, Fox) who just happens to have been voted Britain's Best Criminologist (Ever!) thanks to Simon Cowell, David Walliams and the lovely Alesha Dixon, beating a tap-dancing dog and a comedy giant ex-policeman with rickets who used to shout "Moldy bread!" when arresting criminals.

Their rivalry is well known and the pair enjoy (well someone has to) a few moments verbal sparring - as opposed to a sword fight in a ladies mouth - as they give the reasons as to why they will end up crowned The World's Greatest Detective.

I always assumed that was The Batman but heyho.

Dixon: So far out of my league there's no point even thinking about it (or so my other half says).

Whilst out for a meal one night to celebrate the solving of the hanging case (it was a Mexican what done it....bad people, knife, knife, knife  etc.) the pair are intrigued when a note arrives for the Toliver saying (well obviously it doesn't really 'say' it as letters can't speak, this is just a turn of phrase) that someone he knows well will be murdered in three days so with McDowell in tow it's a race against time - and tedium - to solve the case.

Well I say solve the case but let's be honest it's pretty obvious who's behind it isn't it?

Lucky for us then that the performances on show are so good.***

Hannibal: The Pikey Years.

As the evening continues and the audience begins to slip into a coma we're introduced Mr Vic approaches the penultimate casket and begins to recount the tale of hard-nosed businessman Dirk Cantwell (Gates who according to a quick look at Wikipedia is either an American former Olympic sailor in the Star class who competed in the 1972 Summer Olympics together with Alan Holt or an American former political consultant and lobbyist who has pleaded guilty to conspiracy against the United States and making false statements - he may be someone else entirely but I really can't be arsed checking****) who lives for profit and hates everything else.

After being rude to his secretary and knocking back the chance of a night out with his workmates at the famous Nobby's Burger Joint (They serve 23 kinds of burgers) he heads out to lunch (alone) and after slagging off a shopkeeper for not selling chewing gum he proves his 100% patent bastardness by telling a homeless man to "Get a job!"

What a rotter.

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

As he walks down the street he notices that the local Primark is having a sale so pops in on the off chance that he can buy some cheap shorts for his holidays but imagine his surprise when upon entering he finds the place deserted.

And the doors locked preventing him from leaving.

Exploring the shop in the hope of at least finding a pair of Jesus sandals going cheap Cantwell stumbles on a discarded coathanger and falls down a liftshaft where he's attacked by a wall of nails.

As is the way of these things.

Trapped in the rubbish filled hole and fed nothing but booze by an unseen assailant hours seem to turn to days and days into weeks (or that maybe just how I felt watching) when, out of the blue, he’s finally released.

Stumbling into the sunlight he grabs a passerby for help but the guy just yells at him to "Get a job!"

See what they did there?


Obviously bored to tears by all this sub-Twilight Zone bollocks Talmudge makes his excuses to leave but not before Mr Vic points mysteriously to an empty coffin and announces that this one is waiting for an adulterer.

As you do.

Running from the mortuary Talmudge looks up to see that it is - in fact - the hotel (whit?) and scared shitless he legs it into an alley only to bump into the husband of the woman he was having 'the sex' with at the films beginning who shoots him dead.

And would you believe that when the ambulance turns up it's driven by Mr Vic himself?

Scary biscuits.

Just not that one.

Dubbed "Stillwater's own monster hit!" by someone who didn't get out much, writer David (Dark Honeymoon, Fatal Instinct, The Boogens - yup everyone a winner) O'Malley's horror opus began it's life as a TV script entitled "Five Faces" and then to "Five Faces of Terror" before producers realised that the film actually feature more than five faces.

I counted at least 18. 

Upon release it was entitled "Alien Zone" by the distributor to cash in on the scifi trend of the time before ultimately changing again to "House of the Dead." for it's VHS debut.

And why am I telling you this?

Because the whole title thing is by far the most interesting - and exciting - thing about the whole sorry affair.

Director Sharron (Cagney & Lacey, Homefront, The Trials of Rosie O'Neill) Miller may have gone on to carve out a prolific directing career on TV - being as she was the first woman to win the Directors Guild Award for directing a dramatic (non-documentary) film for the Afterschool Special, "The Woman Who Willed a Miracle" in 1983 fact fans - but there's none of that skill on show here as the camera just points at the actors as the slowly go thru their paces.

I'm not saying the film is slow but a 3 hour video tape actually ran out before even 10 minutes of the film had played out.

And my children who are 17 and 15 respectively had all gotten married and had kids by the time it had finished.

No, really.

"Mask on mah face!"

It's not all mind numbing tedium tho' as the clothes are quite funny and the Burr DeBenning segment is kinda kooky enough to hold your interest.

Plus the first lady he kills is doing enough 'acting' for the rest of the cast.

Trust me, she deserves if not a film of her own then at least the bumps in the playground.

Plus I'm pretty sure that Ryan Spindell, director of the really rather fabulous The Mortuary Collection is a fan, seeing as that movie has practically the same basic plot.

To be fair tho' Spindell actually does something brilliant with it.


Harmless enough I guess but then again you can say that about anything till someone loses an eye.

*Which to be honest is two.

 **I think I know who this may be based on but for legal reasons I really can't say.

***For any Americans reading (Americans? reading? ha!) this is what we 'Britfags' call sarcasm.

****I've just found out that he's actually neither of those people and was in fact once married to Veronica Cartwright.

teevee times.

 Had an excited chat on our Radcliffe and Maconie group t'other day regarding TeeVee themes of our youth which culminated in me staying up all night to mix this.


Saturday, November 6, 2021

stranger sounds.

Can't believe that it's 38 years today since Will Byers went missing.....Remember the day with 60 (very) odd minutes of strange sounds from the upside down: