Monday, October 23, 2017

compost corner.

This whole "31 days of 'orrah" has meant that a lot of folk are starting to think this is a serious film blog.

No really.

Someone even emailed me to say that they thought my use of childish captions was vaguely 'postmodern'.

Well, I'll soon fix that.

Born of Earth (2008).
Dir: Tommy Brunswick.
Cast: Daniel Baldwin, Brad Dourif, James Russo, Randall Godwin, Jennifer Kincer and Shannon Zeller.

Five years ago, bearded behemoth Danny Kessler (the fat Trump supporting Baldwin, literally oozing alcohol and shame thru' the screen) witnessed the murderous mutilation of his (admittedly fairly plain) wife and kidnapping of his unpleasant looking and chronically overacting children by a group of rubbery (why thank you!) shite-covered, nappie wearing underground beasts who then disappeared into his rose bush.

The local authorities, assuming that the poor bloke had lost it, blamed the killings on a rampant weasel family, leaving a distraught Kessler to leave town to try and rebuild his life.

Nothing like a happy opening is there?

"I bet you a tenner I can make this table move without using mah hands!"

Since all the killings - and alongside his gin-soaked hobo lifestyle - Kessler has been researching the whole monster killing/wean kidnapping phenomena and has recently discovered that eminent Doctor of stuff, Professor Terry Niceman (Godwin from the Jeff Daniels hit Escanaba in da Moonlight) has written quite a thick (and therefore very intelligent) book on the subject.

Heading off to meet him at a nearby signing, Kessler is shocked to see how many other people share the same story (tho' why it should be such a surprised when he's spent the last five years reading about it is one mystery the movie doesn't address) and attempts to fight his way thru' the, ooh, dozens of extras queuing patiently to meet the Prof.

But Niceman's burly bouncer has been given the job of turning anyone who looks a wee bit like a nutter away.

Which counts the sweat stained Kessler out then.

Luckily he has something that no other person there has.

And no it's not a Screen Actors Guild card.

It appears that Kessler is the only person ever to have been bitten by one of these beasts and survive.

Well, whoopie fucking doo.

"Quick! to the  Scagmobile!"

Niceman is suitably impressed, closing the signing early and taking Kessler for a coffee and a cream bun to discuss his scars in more detail.

Referring to his notes the professor realizes that these creatures take the children on the same date every year and that in the five years since Kessler's kids were taken the number has been multiplying at a huge rate.

Scribbling some rubbish on a napkin the professor is alarmed to discover that if his calculations are correct the creatures will attempt to abduct every child in America this very evening.

Yup, even the really fat ones.

Making his excuses, Kessler decides to finally face his demons and return to his former hometown in the hope of saving his sister-in-law Kelly (fish lipped and boss eyed Kincer from Unbeatable Harold) and her (by the looks of it) middle aged daughter Haley (the hamster like Zeller, best known for her standout performance in Shoot First and Pray You Live - Because Luck Has Nothing to Do with It).

Christ I've seen some shite.

Finishing his drink and saying something profound to his team, Professor Niceman decides to follow.

"Can mooth shite-in get me pregnant mum?"

Arriving in town just before teat time, Kessler pops in to see his sis-in-law and fill her in (ooeerr) re: his theories whilst Kelly, arms flailing like an epileptic windmill desperately tries to remember her lines.

Obviously all this arm waving is quite off putting for the rest of the cast so in a bid to calm things down our hero hands Kelly a book to read before making her an offer she can't refuse.

And before you asked it's not a bit part in next years Celebrity Rehab but a chance of a free night out at the funfair.

The deal is that if those pesky beasts attack they'll all be safely out of town (and sugared up to the eyeballs on candy floss) but if they don't attack they'll at least have had a nice night out.

Never one to turn down a freebie, Kelly agrees, giving Kessler a couple of hours to go visit the cemetery.

But not before he's stolen some flowers from a neighbours garden to put on his wife's grave.

No doubt he'll keep a few back to put on the remains of his career.

Not everyone is pleased to see our portly pal tho', as we discover when the local sheriff (Russo from Argento's Trauma and Donnie Brasco, looking like a man whose ex wife is after extra cash) interrupts a major business meeting between some cardboard Jehovah's Witnesses and the mayor (Dourif wearing one of Sylvester McCoy's old suits - as well as his wig).

The pair decide it would be best to pick up Kessler and run him out of town.


Well your guess is as good as mine, seeing as it turns out that the mayor is as much in the dark about the creatures as anybody else and his 'shady' business deal is trying to get a swimming pool for his new house on the cheap.

"Laugh now!"

As the plot screeches to a halt to allow sheriff Reeser to drive back and forth (whilst looking troubled), pick up Kessler, then question him, then getting the deputy to drive him out of town, any excitement on screen now revolves around Kessler's niece dating a 'punker guy' and the conversations she has with her mum regarding safe sex, guys in make-up and cannibalistic underground monsters.

But try as they do to build the tension, that prize is taken by Professor Niceman as he and his team try valiantly to find the road that leads into town before they run out of petrol.

Edge of the seat stuff I'm sure you'll agree.

"Jings an' crivens it's tha' Siiiiiiiiibearmon!"

Taken up the city limits in the back of a police car (it's alright for some), after first being shocked unconscious with a Tazer (as opposed to being beaten into submission with a can of Tizer) before being rudely awakened by the patter of tiny clawed feet on the roof of the car.

Oh and the smell of fresh shite.

It seems the creatures have begun to rise from the earth and are looking for food.

And weans.

But on finding neither they settle on chowing down on the deputy, giving our hero enough time to steal his car and drive back to town.

Where all hell is breaking loose.

Well, I say all hell but to be honest all that's happened is that one of the creatures is eating the mayor's new doors whilst a few others are rubbing their arses on Kelly's freshly cleaned windows.

Will this excitement never start?

Brad Dourif, up the casino, Ipswich, 2008....YESCH!

Rushing to the mayor's luxury pad just in time to see him getting rendered limb from limb by a couple of shoddily superimposed tramps, sheriff Reeser has a change of heart (and character) radioing Kessler to apologize for being grumpy before heading over to Kelly's house.

Screeching to a halt on Kelly's newly mowed lawn and right next to Kessler and the prof, our heroic duo get a chance to quickly shoot some stuff before Niceman (being the voice of scientific reason) suggests that they should leave town immediately.

Obviously he's worried that if anything exciting happens the audience may not be able to cope.

Driving into the town centre, our creeped out chums can't believe the sight that greets them, for where there once stood shops, a bookies and an off license now there's only a crappily digitized photo, animated GiF fires hastily added and green-screened, moldy tramps tottering around the bottom of the screen.

A veritable cheaply realized FX hell on (HD) earth.

Insert cock here.

Knowing that effects of this calibre wouldn't convince a dead blind man (or his wooden pawed dog), the group vote to continue their journey in the sewers.

Which are underground.

Which is where the creatures come from.

Go figure.

But not before the prof has his  face bitten off.

Lucky bugger.

Heading into the towns (very clean) sewer system our merry band of ne'er do wells must fight monsters, hackneyed dialogue and the urge to wander off for a piss (no, really) if they hope to make it to the city limits before time (and audience patience) runs out....


My word, where to start?

Well imagine, if you will all the crappier bits of Nightmare City, The Gate and Demons mixed with a smidgen of Jaws and Hollyoaks and an added touch of Tremors for flavouring. Boil until shapeless then sprinkle with a dash of shame and egg white, leaving the whole thing to fester for a month in a tramps pants and you're someway to appreciating the celluloid shite-box that is Born of Earth.

Directed (if that's the word) by horror cinemas very own big bad mama, Tommy (Thomasita) Brunswick and backed with the stiffest actors this side of a porn film, the budget can barely stretch to keeping poor Daniel Baldwin sober and watching the poor sod emote for all his worth, convinced this is his great comeback is probably the most frightening (and uncomfortable) thing on screen.

Kelly's fridge: The best performance in the film.

The rest of the cast just seem to stand around either looking smug (stand up Professor Niceman's assistant) or comatose, the exception being Sir Bradley of Dourif who just stands around being, well Brad Dourif really.

Fuck knows how Brunswick got him onboard but I for one need to see the incriminating evidence for myself because whatever she's got on him must be really bloody juicy.

To be honest she could have caught him shagging her kids but come on lady let the punishment fit the crime because no-one deserves this on their CV.

As for the rest of the poor sods on show here there's much fun to be had trying to figure out just who is really the older (and most human) out of mother/daughter team Jennifer Kincer and Shannon Zeller.

What with Kincer's almost radioactive orange skin, carp-like lips and jerky body movements coupled with Zeller's hugely out of proportioned moonhead, stringy, greying  old lady hair and ruddy almost burn victim complexion, both actresses are far more terrifying than the actual monsters on show in the movies finale.

Ah and what monsters they are.

I have to admit that there's some kind of perverse genius at work from whoever decided to cast skinny homeless children as the creatures, covering them in green emulsion before tying a pair of huge grannie pants to them, shaving their heads and gluing a selection of knock-off Lord of The Rings Orc masks onto their faces.

I've heard of folk being arrested for less.

"If you were a bottle of meths I'd drink you hen!"

To be fair tho' I did experience a kind of dirty pleasure when watching this movie. You know, the kind of feeling you get when you secretly piss in your pants when you're at the theatre or in the cinema when you know no-one will notice and for that I can only be thankful.

 Just please don't make a sequel.

I don't think my bladder (or my laundry bill) could cope.

1 comment:

Traveller28 said...

"po-mo in ma mooth?"

Ack, post modernism is overrated and is just used as an excuse for Hollywood remakes for cocktard millenials who don't understand the genius of Rollin, Mattei and Lewis Coates ;)