isvand i blodet!

 

I love Tommy Wirkola and I love Stig Frode Henriksen so obviously I adore this.

As an (interesting) aside you may notice a distinct lack of childish innuendo and offensive language in this review, which is because it was originally written for DEAD FUNNY: THE RISE OF THE ZOM-COM which is still available on Amazon and would make a great Christmas gift.

 

Dead Snow (2009).
Dir: Tommy Wirkola.
Cast: Vegar Hoel, Stig Frode Henriksen, Charlotte Frogner, Lasse Valdal, Evy Kasseth Røsten, Jeppe Laursen, Jenny Skavlan, Ane Dahl Torp
Bjørn Sundquist and Ørjan Gamst.

Hello, 9-1-1? We've been attacked by what look like German zombies from the Second World War! And we set our cabin on fire by accident!

It's a calm moonlit Norwegian night in the snow covered woods somewhere in deepest darkest Øksfjord, the only sound being Edvard Grieg's Hall Of The Mountain King playing menacingly in the background.

This (fairly) sinister scene is abruptly broken by the noise of a terrified girl crashing thru' the trees as she attempts to escape from an unseen assailant.

Stopping to get her bearings (and catch her breath) she suddenly attacked and overcome by a group of grey-coated ghouls who proceed to eat her whole.

Tho' I always assumed that they would spit that bit out.

Less Eva Green more Eva Grue.

Cut to a rocking Country and Western tune (who knew Norway had such things?) as we follow two cars full of the oldest (medical) students this side of the Fenn St Gang - queasy Martin (Hoel), his dreadlocked girlfriend Hanna (Pound Shop Eve Green Frogner), snack loving horror fan Erlend (Laursen), identikit chicks Liv and Chris (Hamster-cheeked Røsten and the button nosed Skavlan) and Roy (comedy god Henriksen) as they head off to enjoy an Easter break of sex, snacks and song in a secluded cabin in the woods.

What could possibly go wrong?

Arriving at the cabin they meet up with their pal, the lion-haired, snow-mobile driving Vegard (Valdal) who has been patiently awaiting not only their arrival but that of his girlfriend - and the cabin's owner - Sara (Torp) who has decided to ski to the cabin from West Bromwich or something seeing as she's a sporty type.

As you do.

As is the way when students get together the pals settle down for an evening of booze and banter (I assume this is quite realistic seeing as I've never been invited away for the weekend on account of not having any friends. Ever) until that is a mysterious tramp arrives in order (it seems) to tell them the dark history of the region and start the plot good and proper.

You see, it seems that during World War II, a crack squad of Einsatzgruppe bad boys led by the evil Colonel Barry Herzog rocked up in the local area and spent the next few years abusing and torturing the local populace until, near the end of the war, the villagers decided to extract their revenge.


With Germany's defeat immanent the nasty Nazi's grabbed whatever loot they could and legged it into the woods, the torch bearing townies in hot pursuit.

Bloodshed, burnings and bad man beatings ensued as most of Herzog's squad were butchered.

However Herzog (being a lucky bloke) alongside a few of his troops managed to eluded capture/bumming and escaped into the mountains with the stash of loot where it was assumed that they all froze to death.

Or did they?

And with that (and a quick beer and fag) the tramp leaves to continue whatever snow-based business he was doing beforehand.

Which appears to be setting up camp somewhere in the mountains in order to be attacked - and eaten - by zombies therefore adding to the sense of impending doom.

Russell T Davies examining all the fucks we give about Doctor Who's cancellation.

As a new day dawns, Vegard - getting more and more concerned heads off on his snowmobile to look for Sara and soon comes across (no, not in that way, minds like sewers you lot) the dismembered tramp/concerned, creepy local guy.

Continuing his search Vegard clumsily falls into a hole landing in a cave knocking himself unconscious.

Yup, I know, I know you think his almost lion-like main of luxurious hair would have cushioned the blow.

As the day wears on and the friends get more and more tipsy, Erlend - looking for cakes discovers an old wooden box filled with jewelry coins and golden trinkets hidden under the floorboards and excitedly begins to rummage thru' it.

The greedy sod probably thinks the coins are chocolate.

Lache Jetzt!

Celebrating their find with even more booze (and pocketing a few of the coins for good measure) it's not long before Erlend's bladder gets the better of him and he heads off to the outside toilet for a wee followed by some furtive bog-based sex with a tipsy Chris before returning to the party leaving Chris to have a poo in peace.

And you say romance is dead.

With the plot points fully covered and the threat explained (plus we're at the halfway point) it'll come as no surprise to tell you that that the things in the woods are, in fact, the undead remains of Herzog's squad - out for revenge on anyone brave or silly enough to try to steal their gold.

Imagine a really right wing (and considerably better dressed) version of the Lucky Charms cereal leprechaun and you're halfway there.

And just in case you hadn't managed to work all that out yet we cut back to Vergard who, upon awakening finds himself in a candlelit cave chock full of gold, guns and Nazi memorabilia - as well as his girlfriends severed head.

Which is unexpected (to him) but to me, if I'm honest, is scarily reminiscent of my granddad's spare bedroom.

Oh how I miss the holidays of my youth.

"Fuck me Jamie....a wasp!"

Stalked (and slashed) on the shitter by the sinister soldiers, Chris is the first to die as the undead Nazi horde lay siege to the cabin, quickly killing Erlend (who it has to be said is the biggest target) as he and his friends attempt to secure the building using a collection of Ikea shelves and empty beer cans.

Meanwhile Vegard has been discovered and is currently busying himself poking zombies in the eyes with a penknife as the evil creatures edge him closer and closer to a cliff face.

It never rains.

Bitten on the neck by one of the zombie he stumbles back over the cliff edge but is saved when he grabs on to an unraveled undead intestine he'd managed to cut out of its owner earlier.

And no, I didn't see that coming.

Climbing back up the sticky stomach rope he quickly stitches his neck up before attaching a handy machine gun to his snowmobile and heads back to help his friends who, by this point have decided it'd probably be best to split up so to this aim Martin and Roy attempt to distract the zombies whilst Hanna and Liv run for the cars and look for help.

Hmmm...I can't this this plan failing in any way.

As the boys bang pots and pans whilst singing loudly the girls head out into the snowy covered woods but are soon attacked leaving Liv unconscious and Hanna stuck under a mini-avalanche with just a zombie for company.

All this snow-based kerfuffle wakes Liv from her slumber just in time to see a group of zombies messily pulling out her intestines and realising that her chances of ever getting a decent pair of dungarees to fit again uses her last vestige of strength to pull the pin from a grenade on one of the undead's belt causing a massive explosion that gives Hanna the boost she needs to drop kick her undead assailant.

Whilst all this has been going down Martin and Roy have managed to set fire to the cabin with shoddily made Molotov cocktails leaving them no choice but to lock themselves in the tool shed, which as it happens is a pretty smart move seeing as it's choc full of chainsaws, hammers and the like.

Groovy.

Undead Nazi in mah mooth!

As Vegard joins them the scene is set for a final battle against Herzog and his undead platoon but as they attack Martin begins to realise the real reason behind the onslaught....

The second film from the dream team of Tommy Wirkola and Stig Frode Henriksen (who later went on to give us the sublime Hellfjord) Dead Snow comes across like a horror retelling of Withnail And I ("We set our cabin on fire by accident!") and is one of those rare horror comedies that plays everything absolutely straight and is all the better for it.

True it may not be the most original plot in the world but it more than makes up for it with sheer chutzpah and an infectious sense of fun that puts most (if not all) big budget horror comedies to shame.

Perfectly pitched and tautly directed Dead Snow is scary and silly in equal measures and probably the most entertaining thing to come out of Norway since Vicky Vette.

Tho' much as I love him I can't imagine too many folk paying to see Stig doing a saucy webcam show.

family ties.

 

La notte dei diavoli (AKA Night of the Devils, 1972)
Dir: Giorgio Ferroni.
Cast: Gianni Garko, Agostina Belli, Roberto Maldera, Bill Vanders, Cinzia De Carolis, Maria Monti, Teresa Gimpera and Umberto Raho.

Our story begins in a damp European wood (probably just around the corner from where Annik Borel is writhing around naked) where we're introduced to the tragic traveling wood salesman, Lesley Manhorn (played by the mightily mustached Maldera) who is passing his time wandering thru' the undergrowth clad only in a dirty sweater and torn Action Slacks.

Discovered by a concerned shepherd our poorly pal is quickly carted off to the local mental hospital, tho' probably not to be stripped naked and tied to a bed.

Instead he's viciously prodded and poked by the concerned (or constipated, I couldn't tell) Dr. Tosi (Enter The Devil's Raho) as his terrifying tale unfolds through the medium of dance (oh go on then, flashbacks), leaving him - and us - horrified to discover that he's become embroiled in yet another remake of the (one halfway decent) Leo Tolstoy novel, The Family of the Vourdalak.

But this time not one directed by Mario Bava or starring Boris Karloff.

Or even by Adrien Beau in 2023.

Which is a shame but lets not be too hasty.

"You ain't seen me, right?"

It transpires that during his trip home from a particularly successful building conference Lesley, after drinking far to much of the local brew and taking a wrong turn managed to wrap his car around a tree leaving him stranded in the Yugoslavian countryside.

The whole situation is a wee bit like being stuck in Dudley in the West Midlands but with less chance of getting your arse felt by a tramp.
 

Or catching crabs from a beer glass.

Luckily (for the viewer obviously otherwise it'd be a really crap horror movie) he finds shelter for the night in the home of the Ciuvelak family, headed by grumpy patriarch Gary (Vanders).

All seems well, until day turns to night that is, when our hero (if you can class someone who self MDF and hardboard for a living a hero) is kept awake by strange noises emanating from the woods.

Questioning his host the next morning he's told not to worry as it's just a bloodthirsty witch that lives in the trees.

Which is nice if a little unexpected.

I was expecting rats.

A typical Scottish witch of the type that legend says used to hide in the bushes on Glasgow Green waiting to attack men with terrifying haberdashery. Seriously it's true. Look it up.

It seems that the witch killed Gary's brother a while back before deciding that it'd be a wee bit more fun for everyone to resurrect him as an exotically monikered Vourdalak, a mythological Russian vampire with a penchant for time keeping, fact fans.

Anyway back to the plot where Les seems to be taking all this gypsy gossip in his stride, which might be because he's fallen head over heels in love with Gary's ravishingly redheaded daughter Sdenka (button nosed beauty Belli), either that or the constant bowls of oxtail soup and bread are beyond compare.

Agostina Belli: Your grandad did. Twice.

Either way he doesn't even bat an eyelid when Gary decides to don a big furry hat and heads out into the woods to confront the witch once and for all.

Number one son Terry (Garko) tho' is prepared for the worst, fearing that his poor dad will get vamped and return home the next day at precisely 6 o'clock and wreak havoc on the household.

See?

Told you there was time keeping involved, I don't make this shit up you know.

Well, not all of it.

Beware! He's going to put his big chopper in you!

Suffice to say that Gary does indeed return at the allotted time the next day looking a wee bit greener than normal (which he blames on trapped wind) but insisting that he has in fact killed the witch and isn't a vampire.

The family (being a bit fick) believe him.

It won't come as too much of a surprise when I say that he's lying thru' his pointy teeth, leading to 60 minutes of death, depravity and dodgy trousers. 

Oh and future human/hamster hybrid Cinzia De Carolis sitting on a log giggling whilst ripping her mums throat out.

And her blouse to shreds obviously.

"I'm sorry, I have my woman's period."

Criminally under-rated and hardly seen by anyone outside the directors immediate family, Giorgio (AKA Calvin Jackson Padget) Ferroni's penultimate picture is a slow burning supernatural shocker that's a joy to watch from it's starch slacked start to it's devilish denouement. 

Whilst it never reaches the giddy heights of the directors earlier Mill of the Stone Women it's well worth the effort to track down, if only to compare how three totally different film makers (t'others being the aforementioned Mario Bava with his classic Black Sabbath and the - also aforementioned - Adrien Beau with his 2023 version Le Vourdalak) approach the same source material.

"Shite in my gorgeous Italian mooth you wood loving bastard!"

Whereas Bava's vision is all clinging atmospherics, subtle lighting and and knowing nods from Karloff and Beau opts for a fairy tale fantasy feel, Ferroni decides to go straight for the jugular from the start, the film’s opening minutes featuring as they do a barrage of blood, bush and boobs before quickly settling down into a more sombre state as the story begins good and proper.

With a pitch perfect cast playing the whole scenario as straight as Chuck Norris,
Ferroni is free to let his camera camp up the proceedings as it treats both gore and nudity with glee abandon.

And it's this freewheeling style, aided by Giorgio Gaslini's sinister score that enables the film to flip from gothic chiller to frantic chase movie almost without warning as it builds to it's climax.

Plus Agostina Belli really pulls off those early 70s, Eastern European fashions.

"Is it in yet?"

Tis a pity then that such a great movie is lumbered with such a generically piss-poor title, which probably hasn't helped it's availability* (or reputation) over the years, which is almost as much a shame as the fact that Ferroni made so few horror movies.

That and the fact that his best known work, Le baccanti (AKA Bondage Gladiator Sexy) is rubbish.

Well that's a bit of a downer to end on isn't it?
































*Tho' saying that it's actually been released on Blu-Ray in 'The States' - which would be good if I could actually play US Blu's.....oh well maybe a fan will buy me a new player.

Or not.

sausage fingers.

Got a huge pile (ooeer) of brand spanking new movies to watch for 31 days of horror so have spent days (well hours) pouring over what to watch first.

Unfortunately my autie-ness and fear of all things new kicked in so to calm myself down I ended up picking this old favourite.

Enjoy.

The Wax Mask (AKA M.D.C. - Maschera di cera, Gaston Leroux's The Wax Mask. 1997).
Dir: Sergio Stivaletti.
Cast: Robert Hossien, Romina Mondello, Riccardo Serventi Longhi, Daniele Auber, Umberto Balli, Gianni Franco and Gabriella Giorgelli.

It's the romantic city of Paris in the year 1900 and a portly, middle aged couple have just been bludgeoned to death in their beds by a cloaked, top-hatted fella with a groovy metal hand.

There are limbs and various bodily parts everywhere and the sheets are ruined leaving the local police at a loss as to who or what could have done such a thing.

After a few minutes heated discussion they all agree that it definitely wasn't the wee girl they found hiding under the bed.

Pretty good job they weren't Police Scotland tho' seeing as they'd have probably charged her with a hate crime for mentioning his metal hand then confiscated her teddy bear as a weapon before throwing the poor sod in a river.

Needle in mah neck!

Anyway our story quickly jumps (via the groovy world of dissolves) from blood stained sheets to semen stained slappers as it's now twelve years later and the action has moved from gay Paris to ia brothel in Rome where the besuited and bookish boys are enjoying the company of the prettiest (and cleanest looking) whores since Jeune & Jolie.

Or since watching Channel 5's Milkshake this morning obviously.

Anyway, between the shagging of ladies and the drinking of tea the conversation turns to a brand new wax museum that's soon to open across town, no-one has seen it yet but rumour has it that the place is frankly terrifying with the scariest waxworks ever (yes, even scarier than this one) and it's not long before the weaselly whore-shagger and gambling addict Marcel McBeardo has accepted a £5 bet to spend the night in the place.

Waved (as opposed to wracked) off by his favourite and particularly bouncy blonde prostitute (imagine a rouge lipped, corseted and even more council estate Baby Spice and you're partway there) he heads inside to find a quiet place to sleep between the spooky wax figures.

Baby Spice: What you really, really want. Allegedly.

Wandering between the exhibits he comes across a door leading to a basement room and being a nosy bugger heads down to investigate.

Bad move seeing as the basement is full of bottled babies, body parts and jars labeled 'bad things'.

Oh and a spooky hooded man busy working away on something not nice.

The sight is so horrific that poor Marcel can't help poohing himself a little bit, the smell of which attracts the attentions of the aforementioned hooded man who gives chase, easily catching the by now whiffy fella and killing him.

To death.

"Is that a leaky biro in your pocket
or have you cum in your pants?"

When Marcel doesn't turn up for work the following Monday the police soon begin an Investigation into his disappearance, quickly discovering that he was last seen approaching the waxwork where upon a closer inspection they soon find Marcel's shite stained body curled up in a corner just behind the Harry and Megan tableaux.

Due to the smell the coroner decides that he died of fear.

Enter Boris Volkoff (well as played by the very old yet still very sexy Hossein - you'd not think twice), the owner of the waxwork who, of course knows nothing about the aforementioned death.

Aye right.

And with the set up out of the way it's time to meet our heroine for the next 90 minutes in the petite form of the young, fresh faced wannabe fashion designer Sonia Lafont (button nosed pixie perfection Mondello) who has just applied for a job making costumes at the wax museum.

Unfortunately Alex (Balli from the cult Bobby Rhodes starrer Tre), Volkoff's lanky, pretty lipped and pudding bowled assistant despises her hairstyle and eels she'd be rubbish at sowing but Boris on the other (non metal) hand, finds young Sonia 'fascinating' and hires her on the spot.
Bless.
This is the first bit of good fortune Sonia has had in years seeing as her parents were butchered by a madman and that she's had to spend the last twelve years living with her vastly overweight and blind auntie Francesca (cinema legend and ex-model for the Sadistik photo-comic Giorgelli) .

But wait!

Does this mean that she's the wee girl from the start of the film?

And more importantly is it still OK to fancy her?*

Mondello: Fag.

Leaving the waxwork museum with a spring in her step and a heaving bosom Sonia is startled by the young news pup Andrea Conversi (Longhi, star of I tre volti del terrore and some other stuff) sneakily taking photo's of her.

After first wanting to slap him, Andrea's smooth movies and easy good looks soon have her, if not eating out of his hand at least sucking his fingers on a promise of a McDonalds and a movie.

Result.

But seeing as we're in an Italian horror movie it's no surprise that whilst all this mushy (and fairly sticky) stuff is going down, the mad bloke with the cloak, top hat and metal hand is skulking about the local parks buying a wee urchin's candy floss before sticking a huge syringe into his neck, stripping him down to his undies and filling him with warm sickly liquids.

Which reminds me, how is your uncle Peter doing?

Too late Ted Cruz discovered he'd
left his special wanking hand on the shelf.

Whilst all these murders are going on, Andrea comes to the conclusion that they may be related in some way to the wax museum.

Sonia tho' is too busy to care seeing as she's being romantically pursued by Boris (who gives her a really classy pearl necklace) as well as wondering if the metal hand murders could be in any way related to her parents deaths.

Hmmmmm......a hard one that.

Meanwhile Baby Spice has been kidnapped, stripped to a pair of (leather) undies and injected with stuff before being placed in a display featuring Jack The Ripper.

As a whore.

Oh the irony.

"Laugh now!"

Andrea with his patented sweet talking and even sweeter cock (possibly), manages to 'talk' Sonia into letting him into the wax museum after hours to take pictures of the exhibits before heading off for tea at Aunt Francesca's house.

The conversation turns to Sonia's childhood and Francesca tells the sad story of Sonia's mother, Gayle who was unhappily married to a weird bloke named Boris who did bad things with candles.

Finding solace in the arms of a nice (non mental) man named Victor, Gayle began a torrid affair but as is the way in these things, Boris caught them red handed (and sore arsed).

Being slightly upset at finding his wife spreadeagled across the bed like a common strumpet Boris leapt at Victor and some serious bitch-slapping ensued culminating with Boris falling arse over tit into a huge vat of boiling hot wax that just happened to be bubbling away in the living room.

Ouch.

The patented Melania Trump mooth shite-in chair,
only £19.99 from Paliwank industries.

Andrea begins to suspect that Sonia's dad maybe the same Boris that now runs the wax museum and heads back to over there, leaving Sonia just enough time to get herself kidnapped and threatened with being fed to some hungry pigs.

Rescued by Boris before any hot pig on pretty lady action can take place (booo!) Sonia is taken to the museum (rather than being taken up the casino which is what Boris would rather do, you can tell by the look in his eyes), dragged down to the secret laboratory and stripped and forced into another pair of leather undies (I hope they're clean) ready for embalming.

Mondello: Any excuse.

But don't fear (oh go on then, fear a wee bit) because the ultimate crime solving force of Andrea and the blind Francesca are hot on Boris' trail and determined to rescue our sweaty and trussed up like a turkey heroine.

Will they find Sonia before her dad fills her with his special liquid?

Will there be any more unnecessary close-ups of her glistening breasts?

And will a giant, steam powered Terminator style robot turn up for no reason?

Co-written by the late, great Lucio Fulci and the hardly ever late but still great Dario Argento with effects genius Sergio Stivaletti behind the camera how could a movie like Wax Mask fail to entertain?

Throwing caution, logic and budgetary constraints to the wind (but keeping hold of those handy red filters), Stivaletti has crafted a stylishly saucy slice of pure cinematic gold that's as cheesy as it is chilling, tho' whether the cheesiness is intentional is up for debate.

I for one don't care when a movie is as enjoyable as this.

Often cruelly slated by 'proper' fans of the genre, there's lots to love about Wax Mask if you're willing to let yourself go with the flow, not least the wonderful production values, the vivid deep colours, the lush score and lastly but by no means least, the yummy Romina Mondello strapped to a steampunk style operating table wearing nowt but some leather briefs and a layer of shimmering sweat.

Even the cack handed dubbing (the worst I've ever heard) courtesy of distributors Film 2000 can't detract from the movie's overall greatest, if anything it adds another unique dimension to the proceedings, as if the dialogue was being presented thru' some kind of bio-mechanical drunken trumpet.

And there aren't many films you can say that about.

Apart from the bizarro sound mix used on the Warner two disc release of the Peter Cushing Dalek movies back in the early nineties.

At once a celebration of the best (and worse) excesses of Italian horror cinema, Wax Mask deserves to be re-evaluated and smothered with the love, attention and sticky kisses it so richly deserves.

Do it now.

*Yes and yes.

mattei son.

Reviewed the first film last October so thought I'd do the second one this year.

Enjoy.

Zombies: the Beginning (AKA Zombi: La creazione. 2007).
Dir: Bruno Mattei (as Vincent Dawn).
Cast: Yvette Yzon, Gerald Acho, Alvin Anson, Dyane Craystan, Jim Gaines, Paul Holme, B.B. Johnson, James Gregory Paolleli and Mike Vergel.

Discovered floating on a makeshift raft somewhere off the coast of Saltcoats, the lone survivor of the good ship Dark Star, Sharon ( Yzon, back for more) is taken to a local hospital by a group of hunky yet spookily dubbed medics where, unlike the previous films ending, she doesn't die and return as a zombie but just has bad dreams about rising from the dead instead.

What a cheat!

If that wasn't bad enough, the insurance company seem hell bent on blaming her for the loss of the ship/death of the crew rather than believe her tale of marauding zombies, creepy Conquistadors and flamenco dancing demons inhabiting an island that can't be found on any nautical map.

I mean, who'd make that shit up?

"I never done it!": Yzon, Shot to fuck but
still fitter than your mum.

Whilst the fat cats tut loudly Sharon is forced to swear at an old woman and knock a glass of water over before stomping off in a huff to live in a monastery.

As one would if you'd been pulled up at work accused of killing your workmates.

And writing off the delivery van.

No, it's not a pearl necklace nor did I give it to here.

Skip forward a year and Shazza is still in the monastery, sleeping on the floor, having flashbacks to the last movie (on a plus side tho' the monks outfit and slicked back hair makes her look hotly exotic), fetching water and other stuff that monks do when, out of the blue (well, out of a car but you know what I mean) one Mr. Barker (Holme), representative of an important pharmaceutical company The Tyler Company (that is no way related to The Umbrella Corporation or even the Trojan Tunnel Company) turns up to see her.

Seems that six months earlier his company sent a scientific team to the very same island to capture a few undead specimens to transport to a secret lab to experiment on.

All contact with the team has been lost so Barker wants Sharon to head up a rescue mission, consisting of a squad of tough marines, one of which looks like a down at heel, heroin addled stripper (yes, I'm talking about you Craystan), the aforementioned Barker and a geeky scientist to the island to discover what's happened.

Hang on, this plot sounds very familiar.

"I can see your house from here Yvonne!"

Arriving at the secret island research centre (in reality a couple of lean to sheds and a disused tennis court) via a model submarine filmed against a fish tank our happy go lucky marines head towards some stock footage of a gas works in the vain hope of unraveling the mystery of the disappearing scientists.

Hint: zombies may be involved.

Setting up camp in a disused lab the team are horrified (well I think the reaction is horror, it may be mild apathy) to discover row upon row of strange, coffin-like glass containers housing all manner of bizarre, genetically altered humans (oh, and a few Tiny Tears dolls painted green) and a wall of steel cages containing a dozen or so very dead (and very naked) Filipino extras.

Suddenly and without warning (well, if you discount the slightly scary music building to a crescendo and monsters eye view of the scene) a hideously deformed, split stomached woman lunges out of the shadows towards a terrified Barker.

Luckily studly marine Taylor (Anson) is on hand to shoot her in the face whilst grimacing badly.

Deciding that it'd probably be a good idea if they had a wee look around and secured the area (rather than all vying to get into shot whilst trying to look the most scared), tough guy Thompson (loud voiced Acho...bless you) leads the squad into what looks like a post rave warehouse to look for any survivors.

After what seems like an eternity of Thompson shouting orders whilst lard arse Private Ludman (Vergel) quotes entire pages of Hudson's dialogue from Aliens the eventual gloom and deathly silence is abruptly broken by the 'ping ping' of the teams motion detectors.

Someone (or something) is approaching...

Could it be a vile mutant thing?

An undead horde?

A giant chicken perhaps?

no.

It's a naked dwarf, covered from head to (tiny) toes in green house paint wearing a pair of joke shop Austin Powers-esque teeth and a paper mache headpiece with a ping pong ball eye stuck to the top.

Dribbling.

Taking a minute to compose themselves (and no doubt a filming break to dry their eyes), our macho mob do what any self respecting person would (no, they don't pick the wee fella up and give him a hug).

They torch the freaky fucker with a flamethrower.

...Iggle Piggle's not in bed....

Legging it back to the lab like a pack of terrified Brownies escaping from a tent with a spider in it, Ludman spends the next ten minutes complaining that 'We're not equipped for this shit!' (what? how can you not be equipped for setting fire to dwarfs?) and trying to convince a by now almost sonic booming Thompson that they should all go home.

Just when it looks like they may just pack up and call it a night (which had me worried cos it means I'd have to pick another movie to watch and I've only got Black Sun- The Nanking Massacre, a compilation of Doctor Who fan films and Bloody Beast within reach at this point), the stripper points out that she's found the location of the missing members of the scientific crew. It seems that each one has a special tattoo that works a bit like a car alarm or something which means that the mission is back on (much to Ludman's delight).

Everyone gets suited and booted for a quick trip to the bases underground power core to grab the scientists and head home in time for tea.

"Rrrrrrrraaaaaauuughhhhhhhh Rrrrroooowwww!"

Leaving Barker, Shazza, specky Brit science guy and man in charge Lt. Gorman (well, this movies equivalent) behind to watch the teams progress on teevee the squad sneak across the car park, behind the bins and into the (wooden doored) power station.

Moving deeper and deeper into the complex they come across a vast (well, I say vast, it's about the size of a small kitchen) storeroom filled with plastic wrapped bodies suspended from hooks, slime oozing from the walls and an unnatural and thoroughly evil eggy smell emanating from a large vent in the wall.

And if that wasn't enough, on a large table in front of them lies a frighteningly pregnant woman with oozing excema and really bad dentures.

Kramer (still shit faced on cheap crack), being the lady of the group, goes over to comfort this poor wreck, who can only mumble "kill me" before her stomach erupts in a shower of grue revealing a melted doll covered in syrup.

Cue the flame thrower (well they have paid thru' the nose to hire it).

Exotic sweaty girls with machine guns....
what all cinema should be about.

Whilst all this is happening, Private Soontodie nervously peers thru' the hole (probably looking for biscuits) just as a horde of unwashed homeless extras crawl out, moaning and shuffling like a band of Glasgow neds on a Saturday night out.

The soldiers panic and start firing off indiscriminately before legging it back to the school bus (sorry, armoured personnel carrier) parked outside.

Shazza, stuck behind a teevee monitor watching a bunch of highly trained fighting machines running screaming thru' dingy corridors whilst piss stained tramps try to bite their arses, decides it's time to act (no, I'll resist the temptation to comment), grabbing a big gun and charging to the rescue whilst Barker stands around stroking his beard and Gorman repeatedly takes off his hat and rubs his head in a kind of 'what the fuck have I agreed to be in?' manner.

"It's Cccccccchhhhhrrrrriiiissstttmmmaaassss!!!!!!"

After an explosive shoot out and subsequent rescue that would make a gang of five year olds playing soldiers proud the survivors regroup in a nearby kiddies playhouse to plan their next move.

And it's not looking good for our heroes.

The submarines not due back for a fortnight, they're almost out of ammo and it looks like there's a traitor in their midst.

Kramer as it turns out, is the teams electronics expert (everything else I can accept but this is a leap too far) and volunteers to go out and fix the antennae array (from the state of her I wouldn't trust her to fix her own make-up) whilst the others sit about and sweat.

Everything seems to be going to plan until Barker tries to kill Sharon (yup, he's a bad guy, trying to sneak zombies back to the mainland to help cure cancer or something), Kramer gets ripped in half by a gorilla (no, really) and the undead break thru' the cardboard lab doors hungry for flesh (and by the way they look at Taylor a wee bit of tanned manass too).

Inside Peter Tatchell 's mind.

The retreat is short and bloody leaving only Taylor and Sharon alive and stuck in the back of a van surrounded by the undead (and unwashed).

But it's not all doom and gloom, luckily Kramer's sacrifice (oh, OK, stupidity in not seeing a bloody great gorilla) wasn't in vain, she managed to send an SOS to the sub and it'll be on site in an hour or so.

Giving Sharon just enough time to head into the bowels of the base to confront the real horror behind the zombie menace....

Mattei had a hard job ahead of him if he was going to match the all round shoddiness and ineptitude of Island of The Living Dead when he decided to film this nail biting sequel - luckily he managed to not only match it but in some ways even surpass the unbelievable levels of incompetence achieved previously.

The plot (and much of the dialogue) is borrowed wholesale from Aliens - as well as the director's own Shocking Dark - with the climax of the Luigi Cozzi classic Contamination thrown in for good measure, all held together by the largest collection of non actors ever assembled in one room, every one of the bravely and with surprising straightness, uttering the most clichéd and banal dialogue ever committed to celluloid.

And frankly it's a joy to behold.

Yvonne contemplates the stuffed crust.

Throughout the rot there are shots that echo the greatness of Bava and Argento, reminding you of Mattei's early career as a film editor and whilst none of his films ever live up to there basic premise, his unwavering belief in and love for horror cinema coupled with his willingness to embrace new technologies and ideas enabling him to carry on working well after most of his contemporaries had thrown in the hat.

Never anything less than totally entertaining, Mattei's gore soaked swansong is the perfect end to an illustrious career in zombie cinema.

cotten eyed joe.

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