kaiju a go-go!

 

 

Celebrate the birthday of Godzilla with 60 minutes of Gojira grooves, Kaiju cuts and massive monster mixes.

 

Soul Bossa Nova.

We're finally here at the end of 31 days of horror so thought I'd finish up with this little seen cult classic from 1978.

Hopefully this will persuade a few more people to search this lost gem out as it deserves much more love and acknowledgement than it currently gets.

So without further ado I present....

Halloween (1978).
Dir: John Carpenter.
Cast: Donald Pleasence, Jamie Lee Curtis, Nick Castle, Will Sandin, Charles Cyphers, Nancy Loomis, P. J. Soles, Kyle Richards, Brian Andrews, John Michael Graham and Sandy Johnson.

It's Halloween, everyone's entitled to one good scare.

It's Halloween night 1963 in smalltown Haddonfield, Illinois where Mr and Mrs Myers have left their pretty-lipped 6-year-old son Michael in the care of his older sister Judith whilst they hit the town for an exciting night of apple dunking and bad dancing.

Bored with spending the evening gazing lovingly at himself in the mirror whilst decked in his patented creepy clown costume little Michael decides to go look for his sister in order to have a quick game of Connect 4 before bed but is shocked to find her lying underneath a hunky football stud in the process of putting something in her.

Obviously confused - and a wee bit aroused by all this sweaty thrusting (and who can blame his? As a 10 year old watching this I was bewitched by the button-nosed charms of Sandy Johnson myself) Michael decides that he too would like to stick something in his big sis.

Unfortunately he chooses to use a kitchen knife much to his parents dismay upon their return home.

I mean do you know how much it costs to get cream carpets dry cleaned?

"I've got something to put in you!"

 It's not too surprising then to find that Michael is grounded for a week and loses his TeeVee privileges before being locked up in the world famous (probably) Smith's Grove Sanitarium for mini-mentalists.

Jumping forward 15 years (look it's not One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, no-one is really interested in all that boring psychoanalyst shite and life in a loony bin bollocks - unless you're Rob Zombie that is) and famed head-shrinker, the vaguely Crippin-esque - yet disturbingly cuddly -  Dr Sam Loomis (Pleasence) is heading to the hospital in order to take Michael to a court hearing where he'll be sentenced to life imprisonment on the grounds of being the maddest madman who ever lived.


Seeing as Loomis is a proper psychiatrist with a degree and everything we can't really dispute his findings.


Tho' we can debate whether the skinny fit, beige turtleneck sweater he wears in the TeeVee cut of the movie was really a good look for a man with such pronounced manbreasts for years.

In fact, some of us have already.

Upon arrival at Smith's Grove Loomis is sightly perplexed to see the inmates wandering around the grounds with their arses hanging out and leaps (as much as a portly Englishman can leap) from his car to investigate, discovering too late that the whole thing is a massive ruse perpetrated by Myers in order to affect an escape.

It looks like the by now not so little Michael is heading home to Haddonfield for a wee bit more of that violent stabbing stuff he enjoys so much.

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

Realizing that wandering around town in a polyester gown that ties up the back might not be the best thing for instilling fear in the town's populace (and knowing how cold October gets) Michael - in a blatant attack on the price of car MOT's - kills a local Quick-Fit employee and steals his uniform before driving home to Haddonfield and breaking into one of those pop up Halloween in stores you get in town that sells overpriced rip-off 'Waking Ded' costumes for under a tenner in order to top off his costume with a terrifying mask.

Unfortunately they're all out of horror themed headwear and, with this being 1978 there are no official 'Halloween' movie masks available so Michael must fashion his own from what's available which in this case is a Don Post Bill Shatner mask, probably due to Shatner (or at least Captain Kirk) also being notorious for sticking it in things. 

Oh yes and hating autistic folk to the point of scarily stalking them online.

Which to be honest is a pretty scary thing in itself.

Tho' not as scary as the court case between Don Post Studios and Cinema Secrets regarding the aforementioned mask back in 2000.

But I digress.

Inside, well William Shatner's mind obviously.

As October 31st dawns and deciding he's got time to kill (as opposed to teenagers) before the evenings fun begins Micheal decides to spend his time stalking the woolly tight wearing, bush haired babe that is Laurie Strode (Curtis) who has - in a bizarre twist of fate only seen in movies - just dropped off a key the Myers house for her estate agent dad.

Laurie is soon spooked by a shadowy figure and sure that she's being followed by the (future) star of TJ Hooker but her friends Annie (female perfection made flesh Loomis) and Lynda (Soles) reckon that a lack of boyfriend action has affected her brain causing her to fantasize about America's sexiest TeeVee hunk.

Meanwhile Dr. Loomis, being a clever bloke and having read the script, has anticipated that Michael is heading to Haddonfield and arranges to meet with Annie's dad, who just happens to be the Sheriff (Cyphers), in order to get a surveillance watch put on Michael's old home.


Sheriff Brackett thinks that Loomis is talking out of his arse but promises to keep an eye open for any strange folk hanging about the bins looking suspicious.


Which if nothing else means that the director of the fucking awful Halloween 2, Rick Rosenthal, wont be able to cause any mischief.

As night falls the teens - well all except good girl Laurie - are busy trying to re-arrange their babysitting plans in order to have some of 'the sex'.

Annie, being frankly magnificent has already organized dropping off her charge Lindsey Wallace with Laurie - who is spending the night babysitting a large-headed ginger boy in a spacesuit named Tommy (a character who may or may not be important in the sequels, I really can't remember) - before heading over to pick up her boyfriend Paul for a wee bit of fondling and biting on the sofa.

Unfortunately not long  after dropping Lindsey off poor Annie is strangled before getting her throat cut by Michael who's been hiding in the back of her car.

Bastard.

"French Polishers? You may just be able to save my life!"

While playing - a really boring - game of hide-and-seek with Lindsey, Tommy catches a glimpse of Michael carrying Annie's prone yet still really sexy body into the Wallace house, and, being a bit of a freak himself is convinced that he's just seen "The boogeyman".

Laurie tho' is unconvinced.

Having arranged to meet Annie at the Wallace house (they must have a huge sofa) Lynda and her boyfriend, the big binned Bob arrive to find it empty so - as you would - decide to have a shag in Lindsey's parents bed.

It's Ok, it's not like they're in it at the time.

After a few minutes of self conscious thrusting Bob heads downstairs to get some drinks but Michael has been watching and  impales Bob on the wall with what must be the longest kitchen knife known to man.

Go on, rewatch the scene and tell me that's not a wee bit excessive in length for something primarily used to chop carrots.

Anyway, showing that his years institutionalized haven't damped his sense of humour, Michael dons a bedsheet and Bob's glasses in order to give Lynda a good giggle before killing her too which he does by strangling her with a telephone cord (remember then?) whilst she's chatting to Laurie.

Meanwhile back in the cat and mouse bit of the plot, Loomis has come across (well it's a slow night) the car Michael had stolen, confirming his suspicions that his former patient has indeed returned to Haddonfield.

"Hello life savers? You may just be able to polish the French!"

 

 

 

 

Unsure whether the noises on the phone she heard was Lynda having an orgasm or being murdered (she's had a sheltered life), Laurie heads over to the Wallace house to find out only to find her friends dead. 

 

Which is nice.

 

Suddenly dear old Michael pops out from behind the fridge and slashes at our heroine who understandably legs it back to the Doyle house screaming something about the star of The Devil's Rain trying to kill her.

 

Luckily the door is almost immediately opened by Tommy who, after sitting thru' the Howard Hawks/Christian Nymby version of The Thing From Another World on TeeVee has decided to go talk to this films director about staging a remake.

 

There's no time for that chat now tho' (or to think what might have happened to Carpenter's career had Manos: The Hand of Fate been on instead) as upon entering the house Laurie picks up both Tommy and Lindsey before running upstairs and hiding in a cupboard. 

 

With Michael approaching the house and Loomis in hot pursuit the scene is set for a Samhain showdown like no other.

 

A showdown that will change the course of horror cinema and launch the slasher genre on the world good and proper.

 

What can you say about Halloween that hasn't been said a thousand times before by proper film types who don't rely on cheap laughs like "Shite In Mah Mooth!" to brighten up their reviews?

Shot for a meager $300,000 over a period of four weeks, the original 'psycho stalks a babysitter' idea came from producer Irwin Yablans and financier Moustapha Akkad who, after viewing Assault on Precinct 13 sought out Carpenter to see if he fancied giving it a shot.

Carpenter, having a wee bit of free time jumped at the chance to not only direct but also to write the script (alongside Debra Hill) as well as compose the music, sowing together the majority of the casts costumes, painting and cutting out the autumn leaves (it was shot in spring) and lending Donald Pleasence his dad's coat.

And all for a pay packet of £18.60.

"Do I make you horny?"

Released on October 25, 1978 (probably I need to check) Halloween went on to make over $70 million worldwide and opened the bloodied floodgates for a slew of imitators and launching the careers of not only Carpenter but Jamie Lee Curtis too as well as giving a career renaissance to dear old Donald Pleasence, who on the back of his work with the director went on to become elected the first non-US born President of The United States in 1981.

But that's another story.

Lean, mean and peachy keen Halloween is still the come to film for anyone wanting to see how to make the ultimate suspense movie, from its pitch perfect performances to it's minimalist soundtrack and unflashy yet stylish direction, Carpenter's first foray into horror has never been matched or equaled and for many of us is why we are horror fans today.

Oh yes and have a thing for spiral permed brunettes in men's shirts.

And for that we salute you sir.

botherhood of manos.

 

 

 

 

You'll be pleased to know the nightmare is almost over!

It's the penultimate day of this years 31 Days of Horror spooktacular!

As a fairly interesting aside today's film was going to be Black Candles* as someone had emailed me to see if I'd ever reviewed it, I took a quick look thru' the archives - tho' why they couldn't search for it I've no idea....what is this a library? -  and bizarrely this popped up instead.

Checking it seems that only 3 folk have ever read the review which is sad really.

Or a sign of good taste.

Who knows?

But the thing that clinched it for me was being reminded of the time I got asked to contribute to a comic book sequel.

This never came to fruition (or maybe it did and my work was deemed too shit to include - it happens) so as an added treat I thought I'd share some of the work here.

Enjoy.

Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966)
Dir: Harold P. Warren.
Cast: Tom Neyman, John Reynolds, Diane Mahree, Harold P. Warren, Stephanie Nielson, Sherry Proctor, Robin Redd, Jackey Neyman, Bernie Rosenblum, Joyce Molleur and William Bryan Jennings.

"Manos, God of primal darkness. As thou has decreed so have I done. The hands of fate have doomed this man. Thy will is done".

The somewhat sickening Felcher family; dad Michael (writer, director, actor, spy, salesman and inventor Warren), mum Margaret (Mahree - bless you), Hellish girl child Debbie (Curse of Bigfoot star and only person to be paid for the movie, Neyman) and the family dog, Peppy are heading for a well deserved (if arse-numbingly dubbed) holiday at Butlins in Skegness.

So far so so.

Luck (and let's be honest looks) obviously aren't on their side tho', as not only are they stopped by the police due to a cracked tail-light but also get lost somewhere near the A1 turn off to Smethwick.

Smethwick, twinned with your gran.

Bored, cold and tired, Michael and his family decide to pull over at a the first house they come across to ask directions.

But being Smethwick, there aren't any houses as we know them, just a few broken down sheds and a burnt out Burger king.

Oh and a car on bricks with the words 'GRASS' sprayed down the side in excrement.

Finally, just as their hope of finding any signs of civilization is fading the family reach a rickety old house looked after by a big hatted, bow legged backward arsed butler named Torgo (Reynolds, allegedly wearing a home-made bondage suit to aid his performance), who, as it happens is house-sitting for "The Master" (no not that one) whilst he's away on business.

Togo: He's got something to put in you.

Repulsed yet oh so slightly aroused by the smell of boiled onions permeating thru' Togo's beard, Michael and Margaret ask him for directions to Butlins; Torgo simply (and stiffly) replies that "There's no way out of here....It'll be dark soon...." 

Spooky.

Michael, totally nonplussed by the terrifying Torgo and his trampy beard demands that he and his family be allowed to stay the night and orders Torgo to fetch their belongings from the car.

Being a woman Margaret's concerns go unheard by her husband who's too busy booting Torgo up the arse as he attempts to balance a variety of cases on his hips.

Once inside, the family are disturbed to see that there are not only a distinct lack of carpets but that the walls are crammed full of pound shop voodoo shite with a child’s finger painting of a dark eyed, grey skinned moustachioed man and his anorexic greyhound as a stunning centrepiece.

The man it depicts is The Master.

The dog, well that's just a dog.

I've spunked prettier things.

When an amusingly scratched sound effect of a wolf howling puts the willies up poor Margaret and sends lil' Peppy running outside, macho Michael decides to investigate.

Grabbing a flashlight - tho' a fleshlight would probably be more appropriate for a pile of wank this big - and revolver from his car he wanders around in the dark (making sure not to step off the set obviously) before finding Peppy, by now cunningly played by an old coat lying dead in the desert dust.

Back at the house Torgo is busying (and arousing) himself by rubbing his legs and attempting to stroke Margaret's hair as he admits undying love for her, warning our moaning faced MiLF that she is doomed to become a bride of The Master, tho' Torgo wants her for himself.

 Dirty boy.

Obviously offended at only being able to pull square faced bores and bandy legged bums Margaret threatens to tell Michael about Torgo's frankly ludicrous seduction attempts but our bearded buddy convinces her to stay quiet by promising to protect her from stuff.

Look the script isn't that specific so why should I be?

Luckily for all concerned Michael re-enters the scene at this point with some bad news.

And it's not that the film is almost over.

It seems that on his travels he's discovered that not only is the dog dead but the car has broken down and little Debbie has wandered off.

Good news tho' is that the local Tapas bar still has tables available.

Unfortunately there isn't a phone in the house to ring for a reservation so with great reluctance the family decide to stay the night, if only to find out where Debbie has gone.

 Which is nice.

Tunnel or funnel?

Worry not dear readers, Debbie is only outside playing with the devilish greyhound from the painting.

Let's be honest tho' it's not like anyone would've abducted her anyway seeing as all the local perverts seem to be either working behind the camera or in front of it.

But I digress.

Unlike the director obviously who seems to be under the impression that the film doesn't have enough stilted, dialogue free scenes of badly made up (and in some cases just plain ugly) actors staring at each other for no reason than to highlight the many continuity mistakes on show.

Make it stop.

Or at least get a wee bit interesting.

Please.

What your mum and your auntie get up to at bingo.

Which after what seems like an eternity it actually does with the arrival of The Master himself (Neyman, unfortunate father of the fearful she-child Jackey, actual owner of the featured greyhound and the man who painted the portrait mentioned earlier...so many jobs so little talent) who is first seen sleeping in a barn surrounded by several ex-strippers clad in translucent dresses and oversized girdles.

Without warning Torgo ties Michael to a handy pole as The Master and his many 'wives' suddenly spring to life before indulging in a short (yet downright bizarre) argument over what to do with the Felcher family.

Is it just me or would you assume that a secret polygamous devil cult would already have contingency plans in place for such an event?

Batman: the mooth shite-in years.

Anyway, The Master (still not that one) after a wee pause decides to sacrifice Torgo and his first wife Mavis to the evil God of facial hair (and hands) Manos before taking Margaret and (ye gods no) Debbie as his new wives.

With this decision The Master makes his farewells and heads off for a power shower and a poo, leaving his wives to engage in some impromptu wrestling.

Phwoar! Wahey! etc.

Upon his return and using a potent post poo hypnotic spell The Master stops the fight before ordering his minions (not those ones) to tie Mavis to the pole in order to be sacrificed whilst Torgo awaits his fate from a handy stone bed.

And what a fate it is, as the remaining wives jump on the poor sod and pretend to eat him before The Master, using his mysterious hairy lipped powers severs Torgo's hand before setting fire to it.

Or at least to a crudely made wax replica.

Torgo, hoping to still be around for the planned sequel (seriously) escapes into the darkness, waving his burning stump as he goes whilst The Master laughs uncomfortably as he sinisterly approaches his first wife.

Whilst all this burning, blundering and back stabbing is going down, Michael and family have managed to barricade themselves into the pantry in the hope of either hiding till morning or that The Master might get bored.

But alas, The Master is a, um, past master at hide and seek (and from what I've heard the double entry) and he's soon looming over the family, a tin of peaches in one hand and a corncob in the other confronting Michael.

Being a true American tho' Michael has no time (or concept of) conversation and promptly empties his weapon into The Master's face at point-blank range but alas to no avail.

The screen fades to black.

The viewer loses the will to live.

And bladder control.

Russell Brand, up the casino, Tenby, 1997....Yesch!

Time passes and much, much later two more travelers arrive at the house to be greeted by Michael, clad in Torgo's shit stained suit and 'kiss me quick' hat.

Her turns to camera and says - well someone does and from the dubbing it ain't him - "I take care of the place while the Master is away."

And so it goes.

Let us, dear reader, travel back in time to the mid 60's and to El Paso, Texas, where Hal Warren, manager of the American Founder's Life Insurance Co. came across (tho' not in a sexual way) famed screenwriter Stirling (In the Heat of the Night, The Towering Inferno, The Poseidon Adventure, Shaft in Africa and The Swarm amongst others) Silliphant, who was visiting the town to scout out film locations.

After several meetings (and even more booze), Warren decided that this movie making lark seemed a piece of piss and after a few more drinks reckoned he could do as good a job himself.

Within a week he had a script (The Lodge of Sins), a few boyscouts to be his crew and the local theatre group, alongside and a few 'hand' models to be his cast.

Armed with a third hand 16mm Bell and Howell silent camera, a garden shed, some Hula Hoops and 60 Woodbines a legend was born.

The 16mm Bell & Howell silent camera: Witness to more porn and real life atrocities than your granddad during the war.

Shot within 4 hours, edited in 2 and dubbed over a quiet Bank Holiday weekend, Manos (as it was now known) premiered at the El Paso Odeon on 15 November 1966 to non-stop audience laughter and howls of derision that prompted a shell shocked cast and crew to escape from the cinema via underground tunnels dug during the interval.

A chilling footnote to this is that the cleaning woman who's job it was to bin the Coke cups and burrito packets after the show discovered that the audience had laughed so much that over 13000 gallons of piss had been unwittingly released into the main auditorium causing the cinema to collapse killing 47 people and spraying urine into the local fields, killing farmer Morton J Blithe's prized heard of bullocks as well as his lame son, 12 year old Morton Jnr, who was found drowned in a gully 2 weeks later.

Lying on it's back stinking of piss....and no it's not your mum surprisingly.

But forget the tales of deaths, suicide and heartache for a moment and just concentrate on the movie then ask yourself; Is it really the worst movie ever made or some proto-Lynchian work of subgenius trading on mans darkest fears as witnessed thru' the prism of Barthesian semiotics?

I mean you have to admit that certain aspects of the film invoke both intertextuality and Bertolt Brecht's theories of estrangement to explore the metafictional or parodic aspects of the idea of polygamy (or polygyny as is truer the case here).

Possibly.

Diane Mahree: Barthesian semiotics or terrifying tit wank?

And to all those naysayers, yes the editing is abysmal, the myriad of continuity flaws are an abomination to modern cinema and yes the soundtrack and visuals are so out of synchronization as to lead us to believe that they are being beamed from different parts of the world.

But surely, a friend of mine once asked of Manos; if viewing the film thru' the lens of intertextuality, taking onboard Freud's idea that the repression of fear and desire is the main cause of 'dream work' then the film's seriously tedious pacing, frankly terrifying non acting and  inexplicable inclusion of scenes and characters either disconnected or totally redundant from the actual plot begins to make sense.

Or does it?

Manos: The Hands of Fate: good shit or bad shit?

Who really cares tho' because when you get around to it a shit is still a shit and either way it's still gonna stink your house out.

Which, if I'm honest is fairly profound for this blog.

Be seeing you.






























*I've been informed by my solicitors to add that I did in fact receive a phone call this week from longtime reader Gary Manlove informing me not to bother as it was utter shite.

As is the blog in general.

fog on the rhine.

 

 

Do you remember a few years back when it seemed that every single popular children's character had gone into the public domain at once and almost everyone and their dog were making horror versions of them?

Mickey Mouse, Winnie The Pooh and Popeye all came and went with various degrees of apathy before the world shrugged and moved onto the next thing.

Well among that batch of top quality fayre, 'director' Leigh Scott - the man behind such as the copyright skirting Transmorphers, Flu Bird Horror and The 9/11 Commission Report made a horror version of The Little Mermaid starring hunky, spunky Mike Markoff  as a dreamy archaeologist named Eric Prince (see what they did there?) and ginger princess Lydia Helen as the evil mermaid Aurora Bey.

Which was nice.

 

"Chase me now!"

Tis a pity then that no-one told him at the time  that he'd been beaten to the mark 50 earlier by Blind Dead creator Amando de Ossorio with his classic take on the legend of Lorelei, the frankly fantastic....

 

 

Las garras de Lorelei (AKA L'abbraccio mortale di Lorele, The Loreley's Grasp, The Night the Screaming Stopped. 1974). 

Dir: Amando de Ossorio.
 

Cast: Tony Kendall, Helga Liné, Silvia Tortosa, Ángel Menéndez, Josefina Jartin, Loreta Tovar, José Thelman, Luis Induni, Betsabé Ruiz and Francisco Nieto.

“Send her back into the legendary night from which she has come.”

Welcome to the small town of Cleftplate nestling on the banks of the river Rhine, a town where nylon action slacks and porn mustaches rule supreme and where a green-gilled beast is doing it's best to eat thru' the entire neighbourhood in it's search for fresh hearts, somewhat destroying the fairly easy going nature of the movie with scenes of pretty violent - and somewhat unnecessary - breast tearing.

Which to be honest gives it the edge over Emmerdale.

But not The Archers obviously.

Every night dozens of angry, polyester-clad villagers gather at the local pub to debate who or what is terrorizing the town.

Luckily there's an expert in their midst, the local doctor, one Terry Von Lander (Der Todesrächer von Soho star Menéndez) and according to him the town is being stalked by a mythical beast.

Sounds plausible.
top quality fare

It transpires (I love that word it's second only to ottoman) that many years ago a beautiful lady, named Lorelei who spurned by her lover after he tricked her into a bout of the bum sex, tossed herself off the cliffs and into the murky waters of the Rhine.

As you would.

Well ever since then it is said that she returns every number of years (he's not that specific) in order to feast on human flesh for some convoluted reason.

I must have missed that bit.

Anyway fearing for the safety of the pupils at the local all girls boarding school, the sternly saucy headmistress Elke Ackerman (top tottie Tortosa from Horror Express) hires local he-man and open shirted sex god Sigurd (Italy's very own John Barrowman, Kendall, most famous for his role as PI Jo Louis Walker in the Kommissar X movies) to patrol the grounds in the hope of keeping the pupils safe.

Frankly if I had to choose between a fishy monster or Sigurd's obscenely large bulge I know which I'd probably need more protection from, it's almost as if he has a babies arm down there.

A baby bodybuilders arm.

A baby bodybuilders arm holding an apple.

A really, really big apple.

With one huge weeping eye.

Arriving the following day astride a huge motorbike, Sigurd and his trousers cause quite a stir (and a hell of a lot of dampness) amongst the students as well as a feeling of complete loathing from Elke.

I doth think she protests too much but let's wait and see.

You would, he would, your mum did. Twice.

Patrolling the grounds every night with his massive weapon cocked and ready to fire, our he-man hero alleviates the boredom by leering and winking at the girls whilst they get ready for bed.

And being dolly burds they fahkin' love it.

Obviously.

Unfortunately (or fortunately if you prefer stalking barely legal girls to killing monsters) the beast appears to be more interested in killing the townsfolk.

Which, if I'm honest doesn't seem to bother anyone until the creature murders the local homeless musician cum rent boy Tobias that is.

With no-one left to cuddle up to on those cold winters nights when their wives have locked them out, a mob of the towns most mustachioed men march on the mayor's cottage and demand action.

Back at the school shifty Sigurd is having some trouble of his own after being caught masturbating in the pupil's private pool.

Ms. Elke, still not swayed by his manliness, sends our hero off into the countryside for a swim in a nearby lake in the vain hope of cooling his ardor.

"Ere! Can you smell Mackerel?"

Wandering around like a lost child (albeit a lost child with a massive hard-on), Sigurd comes across (I'm not even going to type it) a ravishing redhead in a green fringed bikini lounging nonchalantly on a rock trying her best not to appear too cold.

Having not seen a female for nearly fifteen minutes Sigurd gives chase but the mysterious woman gracefully glides thru' the rocks, her ample arse gently bouncing hypnotically as she goes before disappearing from sight. 

Bewitched by this ginger siren Sigurd begins to hang around the lake on a daily basis in the hope of seeing her again and luckily (with the movie only being ninety odd minutes) this happens fairly quickly.

But not as quickly as Sigurd's smooth moves seeing as within minutes he manages to get his mysterious Ms. into a saucy clinch on a dirty mattress in a broken down fisherman’s hut.

The romantic devil.

Unfortunately (for him and us tho' I reckon the lady had a narrow escape) just at the point of entry a big bearded man appears and reprimands Sigurd for keeping Lorelei out for so long.

But wait, isn't Lorelei the name of the flesh-feasting beast?

Sigurd thinks for a moment before remembering that one Lorelei is a big green monster whilst the other is a curvaceous sex kitten played by Berlin born Liné, from the equally fantastic La orgía nocturna de los vampiros.

Without another word beardy scoops her up into his muscled, well oiled arms and proceeds to walk straight into the lake.

Sigurd is intrigued to say the least.

"Hey Senorita! How'd you fancy coming in the back o' me car and letting me shite in your mooth?"

Dazed, confused and still aroused Sigurd is wandering aimlessly thru the woods when he discovers a shifty Von Lander skulking in the bushes during what appears to be an impromptu dogging session.

The doctor, however, obviously horrified at the thought of being outed as a sex fiend begins to confuse Sigurd with his utter bollocks theories.

You know the type of thing; much mention of the moons rays, waffle regarding photo-chemical stuff and theories on the molecular structure of things.

And to prove all these theories and how on earth they relate to the monster he invites Sigurd back to his Victorian style knocking shop cum laboratory where he makes a severed human hand grow green and scaly.

He's even created a radioactive steak knife in case he gets close enough to stab the creature.

Or for if he ever has a radioactive steak obviously.

Sigurd is impressed.

Unfortunately before a town meeting can be called Von Lander is violently murdered (is there any other kind?) by Lorelei and his lab burnt to the ground.

Every cloud has a silver lining however (except mushroom clouds, their linings are Strontium 90 based) as this only increases Sigurd's acceptance of the idea that his new squeeze Lorelei could in fact be the same Lorelei that's killing everyone.

Thinking the whole situation over for several seconds he decides that even tho' she can be a wee bit grumpy, Elke is probably better sex material and so heads off to the beach wearing his tiniest shorts and carrying a big bomb.

Ickle finn leg not shown.

Persuading a local fisherman to take him out onto the lake, our horny hero plunges into the waters just below the infamous rocks from where Lorelei originally jumped and soon discovers an ancient underwater cavern festooned with jewels, gold and bikini clad ladies.

Which is nice.

But for once Sigurd is not to be distracted by such things, he's here on a mission, not only to blow the place to Govan and back but to also inform Lorelei that he's breaking up with her due in part to her habit of eating people but mainly cos she stinks of herring.

What a guy.

Jeremy Beadle: The Revenge.

After a few minutes of inconsequential dialogue and slow fighting Sigurd manages to fight off the bikini girls advances and set the charges before swimming to safety and leaving poor Lorelei to die under a collapsing hill.

Or did she?

Back on the mainland Elke is enjoying a midnight walk around the grounds when she hears a rustling in the bushes followed by the faint aroma of fish...

Lorelei is alive and well and out for revenge on Sigurd's 'other woman', jumping out from behind a tree and indulging in a spot of girl on fish wrestling.

Which frankly isn't as exciting as it sounds.

Luckily Sigurd arrives in the nick of time and plunges his radioactive blade into Lorlelei who then, not too surprisingly dies as the lovers gaze into each others eyes.

Aww, how sweet.

Yup, someone was paid for designing this.

Not only taking liberties with the Lorelei myth but kinda taking the piss a wee bit too, Blind Dead creator Amando de Ossorio takes the traditional tale of a beautiful siren who lures sailors to their deaths by enticing them into the rocky cliffs of the River Rhine and crafts it into one of the most terrifying monster movies ever made.

By that I mean one of the most terrifying monster movies ever made by someone named deOssorio and titled Las garras de Lorelei obviously.

Glad that's out of the way.

The real Lorelei yesterday. Well a dramatic (and incredibly hot) statue of her anyway. Here's hoping it's wipe clean.

Although never hitting the heights of The Blind Dead, Las garras de Loreleiis a near perfect blend of tight storytelling, great locations, seventies breasted woman, shoddy (and sometimes overtly misogynistic, unfortunately) gore and frankly bonkers characterization all mixed in with some fantastic Carry On style sauciness and topped off with a career best performance from Tony Kendall's trousers.


A must see for any self respecting fan of fish-based romantic horror or just those who enjoy staring at a (very) well endowed man for an hour and a half.

Perfection.

roy castle.

What would make this whole 31 Days of Horror even more exciting than it's been so far?

I reckon a movie featuring the lady legend that is Barbara Steele.

Or even better a movie featuring two Barbara Steele's.

And one is in a blonde wig!

What's not to love?

Apart from the nonsensical plot obviously. 

Nightmare Castle (AKA The Faceless Monster, 1965).
Dir: Mario Caiano.
Cast: Barbara Steele, Paul Müller, Helga Liné, Marino Masé, Rik Battaglia and Giuseppe Addobbati.

You, I will kill you, you tart, you. You and your filthy friend. But death, my dear, must come to you only after I've torn from your bodies all the suffering and pain a human being can stand, and you don't know yet how long it takes to die of pain!

Full-time mad scientist cum part-time street dancer Dr Stephen Arrowsmith (Surrealist horse-visaged Müller from Vampyros Lesbos)  and the stunningly beautiful - and filthily rich - Lady Muriel (Genre Goddess Steele, no introduction necessary) are trapped in a loveless marriage, their bouts of arguing and sniping punctuated by long, uncomfortable silences and knowing looks from their geriatric (tho' she may just be maid of Plasticine it's hard to tell) maid Solange (the luscious Liné from The Loreley's Grasp).

Reminds me of my childhood.

Without the hot German help obviously.

Ours was Swedish.

And a man as I found out on my 15th birthday.

But I digress.

Obviously then our high-cheeked hottie is very happy to find that her horrid hubbie is going away to Edinburgh for a week long mad scientist conference giving her plenty of time to indulge in copious amounts of 'the sex' with David the hunky gardener (billiards-derived indoor table game and star of Yellow Emanuelle, Battaglia).

Which is nice.

As Stephen heads off to Edinburgh, Muriel excitedly - and quite saucily for the early 60s - slips into her best flowing nightie and makes her way to the greenhouse to await for David to work some of his green-fingered magic on her lady garden.

Well it does look like her bush needs pruning.

Sorry.

Stills don't get more erotic than this.

Unfortunately neither Muriel nor David realize that Stephen suspects their indiscretion and has been secretly hiding behind the bins waiting for a signal from Solange and catching them In flagrante delicto (which I'm assuming is a fancy word for a greenhouse) springs his trap.

In a metaphorical way that is, it's not like he has some huge Heath Robinson contraption rigged up behind the rose bushes tho' given his bizarre torture methods later I wouldn't be surprised.

Chaining the couple up in the basement (ah memories) an angry Arrowsmith proceeds to beat the couple with a riding crop whilst waxing lyrical about the nature of love pain and death for what seems like hours before finally tying Murial to a bed before dripping acid onto her favourite dress.

The scoundrel.

But Muriel is defiant to the last, taunting her husband with the fact that she has left her entire fortune to her insane step-sister Jenny.

If she dies then sinister Stephen is out on his ear and penniless.

Unfortunately (for Muriel and David that is) Stephen doesn't care and happily kills the adulterous couple.

His excuse?

He needs their blood for his anti-aging experiments and his supply of frog plasma has run out.

This is important because he's promised to rejuvenate Solange as a thank you for spying on his wife.

Sounds legit.

Here come the Belgians!

But what about the will I hear you cry/type?

Stephen has it all in hand as within a few days of his wife's death he's gone to the local asylum and taken Jenny's hand in marriage.

Tho' seeing as she too is played by the lovely Babs (in a fetching blonde wig) he'd be a fool not to want the rest as well.

Solange is obviously not happy about this - you see she reckoned that now she's all young and sexy again that she’d have the doctor all to herself.

But Stephen is playing the long game.

As in he has a fairly complicated plan not that he's re-watching the rather insipid Christopher Eccleston Doctor Who episode where Simon Pegg takes his orders from a roof mounted CGI shite.

Mixing up a powerful hallucinogen in his lab (as you do) he instructs Solange to pop it into Jenny’s bedtime brandy, hoping that this little mix will kickstart her mentalism sending her screaming back to the funny farm whilst he laughs all the way to the bank.

Give him his dues as a doctor tho' because the homemade druggy draught appears to have the desired effect, as that night poor Jenny has nightmarish visions that would put William Burroughs (or Micheal Barrymore) to shame as the deafening sound of heart beats echo around the castle walls our maid of mental illness 'wakes' to find herself trapped in a stone sarcophagus only to be 'rescued' by the ghostly figure of Dave the gardener who then proceeds to ravish her with soft kisses.

Just as you think there might be a chance of a quick peek at Bab's slender thigh tho' a scarily stocking faced man with a riding crop appears and begins to beat David around the head.

With the strength of a woman possessed  Jenny attacks this masked menace only to wake suddenly with her hands clamped around Stephen's scrawny bird-like neck. throat.

Quickly slapping some sense into her Stephen heads off to his lab, pleased with the effect of the drug on Jenny.

Tho' in my experience if he'd have wanted to make a woman act like a total fruitcake he'd have been cheaper just buying her a bottle of cooking sherry and 10 Silk Cut before taking her to the local kiddies playpark for the evening.

As a teen this scenario always ended with me tied to a swing whilst my date flicked matches at me.

Which explains a lot.

"No Andy....Brexit means Brexit!"

Discussing the previous nights madness with Solange, Stephen is shocked to discover that the mucky maid - being female so obviously unable to follow simple instructions - actually gave Jenny a totally harmless sugar solution by mistake  so the drippy doc deduces that just being married to him and living in her dead sisters house may be enough to trigger her breakdown.

Jobs a good 'un as they say.

But this is a spooky ghost type mystery and we're only half an hour in so - against all laws of logic and common sense - Stephen for reasons best known to himself and director Mario Caiano and writer Fabio De Agostini (he of the expensive partwork fame) immediately summons the suave science guy Dr. Derek Joyce ( Masé AKA Lawrence Clift whom you may remember as John in Tenebrae), who is not only a dead ringer for Matt LeBlanc of Friends fame but also  Jenny’s old psychiatrist, to the castle in order to observe her condition.

Oh and hopefully strip naked and cover himself in chip fat whilst dancing provocatively.

No?

Just me then.

"Aye son!"

 

But with Stephen being a (mad) man of science and Solange being, well a bit fick the pervy pair totally fail to grasp the fact that  Jenny’s descent into madness may in fact be caused by the ghost of her sister and her lover.

But to be honest if I was in their situation I probably wouldn't see that coming either.

Tho' if I were married to Barbara Steele beating her to death with a poker would be the last thing on my mind.

Before long, Dr. Joyce too is witnessing strange phenomena in this nightmare castle - from blood dripping from the pot that holds Muriel's ashes to the dual heartbeats echoing thru' the walls via badly dubbed laughter echoing down the corridors and strange shadowy figures behind the gooseberry bushes.

Throwing caution - and science - to the wind Joyce is soon convinced that someone or something has supernatural designs on Jenny.

But to what end?

As all these supernatural shenanigans are going down (as the kids say) Stephen and Solange have altered their plans, deciding to kill Joyce as well as Jenny and as our hero prepares for a long hot soak before bed Stephen is busy electrifying the bath.....

Will Joyce save Jenny or will he fry like a massive man-titted haddock?
 
Will Stephen explain how he manage to discover that frog blood can make ladies younger?

And will anyone asked about the double heart family crest that Stephen is so keen to show everyone?

Laugh now.

Mad, bad and dangerous to view (especially in the aforementioned truncated version, writer/director Mario Caiano (AKA Allan Grunewald) has everything required to produce a top-notch Eurohorror - a sexually charged plot festooned with vengeful spirits, a mad scientist attempting to hold back death, an insane hottie in a sheer nightie and a big scary castle.

And all shot in glorious black and white.

Add to this a cast that includes the frankly fantastic Barbara Steele at her otherworldly best ably supported by the camp as pants Paul Müller alongside the gorgeous Helga Liné and topped off with a lush Ennio Morricone score and you should have an instant classic.

But whilst enjoyable enough in its own way Nightmare Castle lacks a certain something in its execution, the direction is flat, the script is nonsensical and the air of kinky menace the film teases us with disappears almost as quick as Helga Liné's comedy 'old lady' make-up.

As a plus point it does feature Barbara Steele stripping down to a magnificent corset before donning a blonde pound shop wig only half as ludicrous as the one Asia Argento sports in The Stendahl Syndrome so it's not a total loss.

Which if I'm honest just about sums up my life in a nutshell.

Be seeing you.

rock the dagmar.

Just realised we've had no halfway decent possession movies in this years 31 Days of Horror.

It'd be a pity to change that tho' wouldn't it?

 

The Devil's Female (AKA Beyond the Darkness, Magdalena: The Devil Inside the Female. 1974) 

Dir: Walter Boos.

Cast: Dagmar Hedrich, Werner Bruhns, Michael Hinz, Peter Martin Urtel, Rudolf Schündler, Karl Walter Diess, Günter Clemens, Elisabeth Volkmann, Eva Kinsky, Petra Peters, Ursula Reit, Helena Rosenkranz, Toni Treutler and Anton Feichtner.

"Is she possessed by the Devil or by sex? Or is it an obsessive compulsion to make lascivious gestures and bestial motions?"

It's Friday night in hip 'n' happening downtown Bavaria and local lady of the night - and part-time Rocky Horror cosplayer - Brenda (Guildenstern's best mate Rosenkranz best known around here for her top turns in the porn as education hits Schulmädchen-Report 7. Teil - Doch das Herz muß dabei sein and Vergiss beim Sex die Liebe nicht - Der neue Schulmädchenreport 13) is heading home after an evening of cheap booze and clumsy reach arounds.

Probably.

After knocking back a fat bloke in a pork-pie hat who offers he £5 for a wee cuddle she's surprised to find an old man, Joseph Winter, crucified on her front gate (and wearing nowt but a huge nappy) as she's struggling to find her keys.

Which is nice.

My mum's taking the divorce well...

Enter - roughly and from behind - the second best cinema cop duo (behind Spitz and Moran obviously) Kommissar Bob Snatch and his trusty assistant Inspektor Jack Flatley (TeeVee stalwart and what happens when you buy Robert Shaw off Wish Diess,better known for his portrayal of Jack Harris the classic Kleine Bank mit schlechten Noten and Clemens from Alle meine Töchter - you're welcome) who discover - after a quick autopsy, the films quite short - that the victim was actually a fairly well known Satanist who's been offed by some other Satanists for, um, reasons.

More importantly to the plot tho' is the fact that he was/is the legal guardian of his granddaughter, the sweet and innocent Magdalena (Hamster cheeked Hedrich from the Brazilian based love story Férias No Sul and fuck all else - unless you count those films your uncle made when he went to visit 'friends' in Germany obviously) who lost both her parents in a terrible accident when she was 5 years old.

Loved by her classmates at the exclusive boarding school she attends - and lusted after by the local hunk in the fashion boutique where she has a Saturday job, Magdalena is a perfect example of a happy - if a wee bit of a mature looking - teenager.

Albeit one that wears smashing blouses.

But all that changes when during the schools Ash Wednesday Disco (no, really) organized by the schools head, the frighteningly eyebrow-less Madame Stolz (Volkmann, best known for  the German absurd comedy series Klimbimand and as the voice of Marge Simpson in the German dub of The Simpsons) and her mousy yet strangely attractive assistant Miss Preis (Kinsky best known for Testament and Ruf der Wälder - no me neither), Magdalena suddenly falls to the ground soaked in sweat and foaming from the mouth whilst the sound of a single buzzing fly echoes annoyingly on the soundtrack as the school's token lesbian couple look on longingly licking their luscious lips.

Due to this being a cut - well totally butchered - version of the film this sexy subplot will never been seen again. 

Which is a pity if I'm honest.

Lesbe friends....homo we won't!

As suddenly as the convulsions/sexy tics started they completely subside leaving Magdalena wondering why she lying on the floor covered in sweat with her nipples protruding thru' her shirt whilst Madame Stolz and Miss Preis consider the fact that getting a bunch of teenagers drunk was maybe a wee bit of a bad idea.

And with that they pack Magdalena off to bed for the night.

It isn't too long tho' before the entire school is awakened by an hysterical, sweat soaked (and underpants-less) Magdalena screaming at the floors whilst trying to kill Madame Stolz pet pooch Enoch before attempting to stab Ms Preis with a butter knifeand finally collapsing (again) in an arse revealing heap on the floor leaving Stolz no alternative but to call her friend Dr. Berger (Actual actor-type Urtel best known for Bürgerkrieg in Russland - as in a TV movie version not the actual Russian Revolution, a German version of Othello and To Commit a Murder).

Berger isn't too concerned tho' and explains that "Sweaty arse revealing psychotic episodes can happen to almost anyone!" before giving her a sedative and heading back home to enjoy a shifty wank whilst dreaming of the poor girls glistening bum crack.

The next morning an oblivious Magdalena has no recollection of her freaky frolics the previous evening so is fairly surprised when Madame Stolz explains what has happened.

Oh and finally tells her the news about her granddad at the same time obviously.

Two birds and all that.

With Berger in tow, Magdalena prepares to leave for her granddad's funeral but at last minute she shouts "Fuck off!" to everyone and bounds over the school wall disappearing into the trees only to surface later that night when she accepts a lift from a long-haired lout who, when she falls asleep, drives off into the woods and attempts to rape her. 

This culminates in the guy getting his wanking arm broken in several places whilst Magdalena is later found by the police and taken back to school where the evil spirit within her takes the form of a black cat and starts throwing old boxes, furniture and wine bottles around in the attic whilst Magdalena writhes about naked in her sleep. 

The noise of her arse skidding across the bedroom carpet alerts Ms Preis that something is wrong so, whilst Madame Stolz tries to catch the cat vandal, she goes to comfort Magdalena only to be confronted by the Satanic schoolie bouncing on the bed shouting "I wanna fuck you dirty whores! Put it in me! Put it in me!"

Which is nice.

Luckily Dr Berger is hanging about in the lobby so he quickly gives her another sedative in the hope that this time it'll work.

Ms Preis tho' has other ideas and calls on the friendly neighbourhood priest Father Jess Conrad (Suspiria's Prof. Milius himself, Schündler adding some much needed cult film cred to the proceedings) to have a wee chat with Magdalena regarding her bizarre behaviour.

Luckily he's known her since she sang in the church choir as a little girl so is more than happy to help and to this end invites Magdalena, Ms Preis and Madame Stolz to the church for tea and biscuits.

But not of the soggy variety obviously.

Well not yet.

Things don't go quite to plan tho' as no sooner has Magdalena stepped out of the taxi when she starts accusing Conrad of being a dirty nun fucker whilst demanding that she takes communion "not in my mouth but in my pussy."

Interestingly Conrad at no point denies fucking nuns but does draw the line at the communion suggestion which goes to show that he's a man of integrity that can be trusted.

And to prove this he locks Magdalena up in his office and gets on with his churchy business giving her ample time to piss on his sofa, tear a Bible in two, same thru' a door and head over to the cemetery in order to have a chat with her dead - and buried - granddad.

As is now the norm when she finally regains her senses Magdalena has no recollection of what's just happened and with the movie lurching drunkenly toward its climax Preis, Stolz and Berger have no alternative than to turn to the modern day science of Electroencephalography (or EEG as we laymen call it).

Conrad begrudgingly agrees but only if he can join in and wave a Bible about occasionally. 

Oh and fuck a - dirty - nun.

Probably.

Nice and kneesy does it....

I reckon that I should point out that between all the swearing and sweaty snatch shots the film keeps cutting back to Kommissar Snatch and Inspektor Flatley questioning a fuzzy haired tramp caught at the scene of the crime but this subplot is a wee bit shit so I wasn't really paying that much attention.

Saying that tho' these bits are worth it just for Helena Rosenkranz's fantastic fashions.

Oh and the bit where Mrs. Baumer's hunky son Brian gives chase to the tramp.

Comedy gold. 

 

The lights are on.

With this in mind (as in the science stuff not the tramp chasing obviously) Magdalena is taken to see the famed brain boffin Professor Peter Falk (German dubbing legend and voice of Sherlock Hemlock in the German version of Sesame Street, Bruhns) who alongside his studly young assistant Dr. Stone (Hinz - Uncle Quentin himself from the 70s TeeVee version of Enid Blyton's The Famous Five) promise to find out why she's so mental and hopefully cure her so she can meet a nice man and get married.

Cue loads of footage of Magdalena with a colander on her head intercut with eye gouging scenes of Magdalena and Stone riding horses, bicycling in the countryside and playing ping pong as the pair gaze longingly at each other.

Because there's absolutely nothing unethical about a 30 something doctor lusting over a 17 year old mental school girl is there?

Luckily the director thought that all this lovey-dovey shite and keep fit stuff would be likely to induce a coma in anyone (left) watching so occasionally he has Magdalena go shopping with Falk's nurse Shirley (Peters) and a random old woman who lives in the house with them (Treutler).

Everything seems to be going well with Magdalena keeping her clothes on and not swearing at anybody but all that changes when late one night the evil spirit returns, forcing Magdalena to sneak out to the local pub, strip naked and seduce a groom to be and his best man (a great cameo from Chas and Dave, possibly) before forcing them to fight to the death for a chance to shag her before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

OK in a really choppy dissolve.

Tickler.

 

Next up it's the turn of Dr. Stone to feel the spirits wrath as Magdalena begins to rub his cock thru' his action slacks whilst promising to let him touch her thigh before shouting rape whenever he even looks at her and finally announcing that she will only have sex with him if he kills Professor Falk. 

And with that proclamation she slinks off to her room and strips naked so as to make it easier for the spirit to shag her up the bum....

 

What your mum really gets up to on Bingo Night.

Will Stone fall completely under Magdalena's spell and kill his boss?

Will the crucifixion sub-plot ever make any sense?

Will science or religion prevail?

Will the movie pull out all the stops for an amazing and terrifying Exorcist style climax or will Magdalena - after a stern talking to - just cough up a toy snake that Stone gingerly steps on?

Go on, guess.

I love it when people display their kids artwork.

What can you say about smut peddler extraordinaire Walter Boos frankly threadbare excursion into the supernatural other than it's exactly the wrong kind of movie you want to be caught watching in a hotel room alone?

Seriously, the thought of someone breaking in and finding me viewing this abomination was way more terrifying than the thought of being murdered in my bed as at least that way I wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of facing my loved ones later.

It is bloody enjoyable tho'.

With its whore-baiting, hat wearing, nappy crucifying opening the movie hits the ground running and whilst Karl Walter Diess being dubbed by trailer voice-over legend Richardson Green (or was it Donald Leroy LaFontaine? I can't be arsed checking) not so much breaks the fourth wall rather it beats it into submission before pissing on its shoes, the film as a whole ticks all the right exploitation boxes.

Violent murder?

Check.

Inadvisable attempts at portraying youth culture?

Check.

Saucy virgin heroine in clothes a size too small?

Check.

Gratuitous lesbian teasings?

Check.

Overweight, mustachioed Germans?

You get the idea.

It's just a pity then that around the 35 minute mark the whole film grinds to a halt as you realise that other than the thrill of hearing Dagmar Hedrich swear whilst flashing her well kept fanny (and occasionally her - admittedly peachy - arse) at everyone the film has literally fuck all else to offer.

But scarily enough that's part of its charm.

 

Font.

You know it's shit, you assume that the cast and crew know it's shit but fair play to 'em they carried on regardless so the least you can do is give them and hour and 14 minutes of your time.

Especially if the alternative is binging the entire sorry series of Smoggie Queens on BBC 3 whilst knocking back a fifth glass of Pinot noir and third bag of prawn cocktail Skips.

So damning with faint praise then?

Well it is what I do best.