Saturday, September 26, 2020

lollywood babylon.

Actually been a wee bit busy doing some of the wee drawings for pennies this week (well one) so I thought I'd share a few frankly fantastic film posters from  Pakistan - the city of Lahore to be precise.


I'll stop know in case you begin to mistake this for a well researched and educational film blog.

Wednesday, September 23, 2020

dead sexy.

Rewatched the rather splendid (if not a wee bit kinky) Nightmare Castle t'other night, for those who've never seen it it's gloriously gory tale of sex, blood and Barbara Steele featuring Paul Müller as a dodgy doctor doing weird things with his new wife whilst his dead former spouse wanders around breaking stuff.

Obviously I had to follow it almost immediately with The Horrible Dr. Hichcock, another Barbara Steele shocker that spookily has the very same plot that was made a scant two years earlier.

The only difference is this time it's in colour and with the added bonus of a wee bout of necrophilia.

What's not to love?*

The Horrible Dr. Hichcock (1963).
Dir: Riccardo Freda.
Cast: Barbara Steele, Robert Flemyng, Silvano Tranquilli, Maria Teresa Vianello, Harriet Medin and Al Christianson.

His secret was a coffin named DESIRE!

Ginger prince and owner of the biggest sideburns this side of Noddy Holder, Bernard Hichcock (Flemyng, best known for The Blood Beast Terror and dating your nan) is a successful Victorian doctor and pioneer of an experimental new anesthetic for use during surgeries.

The new technique is a roaring success and the doctor alongside his swarthy assistant Dr. Kurt Lowe (Tranquilli from The Legend of Blood Castle) quickly celebrate their medical breakthru' before Hichcock heads home to his spooky mansion, where his wife Margaret (Vianello from The Giants of Thessaly and not much else) is throwing a piano party that very evening.


Arriving home to the dulcet sounds of Margaret’s piano plinking, Hichcock spies a quick glance at his wife's admittedly breathtaking cleavage and almost immediately sneaks off to his bedroom where he instructs their maid Martha (Blood and Black Lace's Medin) to send the guests home and to inform his wife that he's "off to bed".

Heading into the drawing room, Martha gives Margaret the kind of saucily knowing look only found in 1960's European cinema causing her to immediately stop playing and send her guests home.

Margaret then excitedly makes her way to sumptuously silk lined chamber and lays down on an exotic canopied bed, awaiting her husband who soon turns up waving a massive syringe about.

Filling it with a special potion he injects Margaret, waiting until she falls unconscious before jumping onto the bed and giving her an injection of a totally different kind.

And by that I mean he pops his erect penis into her smooth vagina.


"You may feel a little prick".

This seems to be a regular occurrence in the Hichcock household as the following night they're at it again, only this time - for some unknown reason - Hichcock decides to up anesthetic dosage causing Margaret to start convulsing (which in itself is fairly sexy reminding me as it did of Helen Daniels stroke in Neighbours) before dropping dead.

Sinking deep into depression - and wracked with sexual frustration probably - Hichcock orders Margaret to be laid to rest in his laboratory (which he's conveniently converted into a tomb - thank fuck for Habitat) before leaving his mansion in order to 'find himself'.

Twelve years pass before Hichcock returns to his old homestead, bringing with him his exotic new wife Cynthia (Steele), a onetime patient of his that he met whilst moonlighting at a sanitarium just outside West Bromwich.

Cynthia's nervous demeanor and latent mentalism isn't helped by the decrepit state they find the mansion in upon their arrival  (the spooky storm blowing outside doesn't help much either) add to this Martha's thinly veiled hostility and the revelation that the maid’s psychotic sister is living in the house too and it's no surprise that poor Cynthia ends up all a jitter.

Bizarrely enough tho', the thing that tips Hichcock's new bride over the edge and into shaky hand land is the full-size portrait of Margaret (and her cat Jezebel)  that still hangs over the fireplace.

 Deciding it best not to make a fuss tho' Cynthia tries to ignore it and instead concentrate on a spot of redecorating whilst her hubbie goes back to work at the hospital much to the joy of young Dr. Lowe, who was sure he'd be relegated to walk on status and therefore not get to share any screentime with Ms. Steele.

A mooth you'd never tire of shite-in in.

Surprisingly everything seems to be going swimmingly until that is Cynthia begins to have the uncomfortable feeling that someone is creeping around the mansion at night.

Asking Martha if she's allowed her scary sibling to roam around after dark Cynthia is unnerved to discover that she has been sent to an asylum - meaning that either our heroine is going loopy or that someone is indeed stalking her.

Her husband thinks it’s just her mentalism returning but Lowe (having a wee soft spot for the precious porcelain doll that is Barbara Steele but then again, who doesn't?) thinks she's telling the truth.

With the movie at the halfway point at not much having happened (save some nice shots of ghostly boots tiptoeing around the staircase) Cynthia decides to do some investigating of her own.

Her hubbie doesn't really notice - or care - tho' seeing as he's way to busy trying not to shag any corpses of freshly deceased young girls in the hospital morgue.

Yup seems the lack of necrophiliac-based nookie is driving him to distraction.

No childish captions just feminine perfection.

It's not long before Cynthia discovers comes across Martha looking after what she assumes is her sister in an annex just of the old laboratory and confronts her husband with the news.

Imagine her surprise then (but not ours as it's kinda obvious) when he reveals that Martha doesn't have a sister.

Yup, the woman that she’s been caring for is none other than Margaret herself, dazed, confused but very much alive.

You see the overdose that Hichcock administered wasn’t lethal, merely putting her into a deep coma for a few weeks and Martha, whilst hoovering one afternoon whilst the doctor was away discovered her clawing at her coffin lid covered in shite and egg.

Which is nice.

Strangely enough Martha has decided to keep this a secret a secret from the doctor, only confessing the truth when he happens across her one night whilst skulking around the garden one night whilst looking for badgers.

Aroused by Margaret's new corpse-like look, Hichcock follows the only sensible course of action open to him so decides to trap Cynthia in an airtight coffin before draining her blood and injecting it into Margaret.

No, me neither.

Will his vile plan succeed?

Or will Dr. Lowe arrive just in time to save the day?

And will we come across yet another movie in the next few months with this very same plot?

From director Riccardo Freda (the man behind the 1948 version of Les Misérables fact fans) comes a deliciously deadly drama of dodgy deviants, dastardly doctors and damsels in distress which mixes nightmarish gothica, necrophilia and natty lighting with the ultimate scream queen in the perfect form of Barbara Steele.

With a script by Eurohorror stalwart Ernesto Gastaldi - who wrote everything from The Long Hair Of Death to Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion via Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key and 2019: After the Fall of New York, see how many you've seen - the film attempts to marry Mario  Bava inspired visuals with the "explained supernatural" storytelling style of the 18th century author Ann Radcliffe in a highly enjoyable -  if a rather silly - way.

This is due in part to the myriad of production problems that beset the film, giving director Freda no choice but to cut many of the scenes that offered any explanation (or logic) to the doctors actions leaving us with visually stylish movie with fag packet motivation and nonsensical reasons for what we see on screen.

Which frankly adds to the general bizarreness of the proceedings no end.


With a top notch cast (is Barbara Steele ever anything other than perfect?) and a vivid over the top style and delivery usually reserved for Christmas pantomimes The Horrible Dr. Hichcock is a gem of a movie that not only deserves to be seen but demands a big budget remake with Eva Green and Richard E Grant.

The campaign to make it happen begins here.


































*Your sister obviously.

Tuesday, September 22, 2020

roy castle.

Not one but 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.


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.

"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.


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.

Saturday, September 19, 2020

(egg) box frenzy

Rewatched - and re-reviewed - this a while back for the first issue of Crypt of Cult magazine (still available to buy over at Amazon, it makes a brilliant  read) and soon realised that it doesn't ever get the love it deserves.

A wee bit like your sister really.

Plus it's kinda scarily pertinent right now seeing as it has infections and exploding eggs in it.

Well it has infections, not seen any exploding eggs in Aldi recently.

Tho' I did come across these in Morrisons...

So where do you start with such a review?

Of the film I mean not discussing the casual racism.

With a brief resume of the directors career methinks.

(I'm actually getting paid by the word for this one).

From writing for the famous Italian movie magazine Galaxy and co-authoring Four Flies on Grey Velvet to directing such classics as Lou Ferrigno's big screen debut Hercules, Argento contemporary cum shopkeeper Cozzi's career trajectory has been nothing if not interesting.

Obviously you'll have to check out a film book/blog that cares about annoying things like facts and interesting content if you want to know more.

Tho' seeing as you're in lockdown right now there are three films in particular stand out from his resume that you should watch ASAP - the frankly indescribable Caroline Munro starring Argento/Three Mothers sequel/tribute The Black Cat, the Caroline Munro (again, does he have dodgy pics of her stashed away?)/David Hasslehoff space fantasy Starcrash and the bloody magnificent...

Contamination (AKA Alien Contamination, Contamination: Alien on Earth, Toxic Spawn. 1980)
Dir: Luigi Cozzi (AKA Lewis Coates).
Cast: Ian McCulloch, Louise Marleau, Marino Mase, Carlo De Mejo, your mum  and a big green jelly.

Opening as most 80's Italian horror movies do - with grainy aerial shots of New York cut to a totally inappropriate synth score (this time supplied by Italy's finest prog rock legends Goblin) - Contamination begins with a mysterious 'ghost ship' approaching the harbour.

Not the one from Zombie Flesh Eaters tho', that was last weekend.

New York's finest, Lieutenant Tony Aris (played by the fantastically tanned Marino Mase) calls on the bizarrely out of (lip) synch Dr. Turner to explore the ship with him and a group of faceless (literally, they're all wearing bio-hazard masks) cops, who after wandering around in the dark for ten minutes come across the bloodied remains of the crew.

Turner is shocked, it appears that everyone on board either:

A. was replaced by shoddily cut up shop window dummies covered in cow intestines and jam.
B. exploded.

"Shite in mah....oh."

After depositing their lunch over one of the corpses (as you do) our intrepid band carefully creep into the ships hold, only to discover boxes upon boxes marked 'café' and a big green glowing egg under a pipe.

If that wasn't enough to make even the bravest man fill his trousers a strange and otherworldly noise, akin to a rusty tuba being played by an asthmatic beagle is spookily echoing around the hold.

Poking the egg with a pencil, Turner is shocked to see it burst open, showering him and all the team (save Lieutenant Aris) with what looks like a mix of PVA glue, green poster paint and KY jelly that has the fairly unusual effect of making all the non speaking extras stomachs explode leaving Aris looking slightly bewildered and the audience ready for 90 minutes of pure terror.


"How'd you like your eggs love?"

Aris is whisked away to a top secret military base run by the, um, 'lovely' Colonel Stella Holmes (Marleau), who after stripping him naked, giving him an old blanket and locking him in a big fish tank explains that she runs a special operations unit (Section 5) specifically set up to combat the menace of scary eggs and would he like to join?

You would....and your Granddad probably did. Twice.

Aris jumps at the chance and, clad in a pair of Quick Fit overalls, accompanies Colonel Holmes and co. to a warehouse 'downtown' where they find what looks like a cut-price version of jive talking Italian 'B' god Bobby Rhodes guarding hundreds of the so-called killer eggs.

As the soldiers advance replica-Rhodes bursts one of the eggs causing him and his buddies stomachs to explode leaving the surviving eggs free to be destroyed by flame thrower equipped soldiers.

I have to be honest and admit that I'm really at a loss to explain the logic behind his plan.

"He did WHAT in his cup?"

If nothing else tho' it does allow Holmes to take a couple of them away to examine giving her time to deduce that these eggs could only have come from Mars and that they were brought back by astronauts on the last mission there.

You see, it appears that one of the crew, 'Mutha' Hubbard (played to angry ginger haired Scottish perfection by Italian horror veteran McCulloch) had been ranting about finding a cavern full of big green tuba playing eggs on the red planet but his usually jolly and humorous co-pilot cum ex-UKIP councilor Neil Hamilton, had calmly (some would say too calmly - as if possessed) told everyone Hubbard was a mentalist.

Rather than find a way of checking his story Colonel Holmes had him locked up.

Now there's only one thing she can do.

Yup, go round to his house, slag off his sexual prowess, apologize for calling him mad and ask him to join a secret mission to South America to investigate the company exporting the eggs.

McCulloch sighs, swigs some more Heineken and slaps the colonel round the head before agreeing to join her.

Well, he is out of booze and it's carnival season down there.

Cue stock footage of a radio-controlled plane, mixed with shots of holiday makers, children in big hats smoking cigars, Aris in a pair of obscenely tight trousers and white socks and we're off to the hotel.

But our heroes are being watched.

Hamilton didn't die in a mysterious plane crash (I forgot to mention that sorry) but is in fact running the alien egg export company and his got something big, throbbing and slimy just for Colonel Holmes.....

Your Gran's cum face. Possibly.

It's a race against time to rescue the by now showering Stella - c'mon she's fairly fit for an old bird - and save the world.

Will they discover the secret of Hamilton's link to the eggs?

Will Aris get his leg over with Holmes or will his quickfire one liners fail to ignite her passions?

Why has Hubbard stolen a plane without telling anyone (to find more Heineken apparently)?

And will they survive an audience with the pant wetting terror that is 'the alien cyclops'?

With his career catapulted into the stratosphere (sort of) with the success of Starcrash, director Luigi Cozzi decided that his follow up would also be a sci-fi epic and turned his dreamy eyes to Ridley Scott's film Alien for inspiration.

Luckily for him (and us) his producers agreed.

But how could anyone attempt to match the cinematic perfection that was - and still is - the Scott classic?

It's with this solution that Cozzi cemented himself as a true genius of modern cinema.

Forgoing the tight editing, oppressive cinematography and top-notch casting of his inspiration Cozzi decided to take the opposite route and with it's Shoddily shot, inanely plotted action scenes and a cast that appears to be sleep walking (yes my friends even Ian McCulloch), Contamination not so much pays homage to Alien than breaks into its house, strips Ridley's classic naked, bundles it in a cupboard and sticks its toothbrush up its arse before getting it's dog pissed and putting lipstick on it.

Under blue moon I saw you
So soon you'll take me
Up in your arms
Too late to beg you or cancel it
Though I know it must be the killing time
Unwillingly mine...Fuck me it's a massive egg!

Unfortunately audiences mistook this brave almost Cinéma vérité style for genuine cackhandedness and stayed away in droves whereas in the UK the films stark realism was mistaken for a documentary leading the film to end up banned as one of the notorious 'video nasties' that your granddad keeps harping on about.

That's right, you could be prosecuted for owning this back in the day.

But luckily not for making it.

Eventually the truth was discovered during the infamous Wikileaks saga and the film was rushed onto DVD to terrify a new generation.

And talking to that generation directly I'd just like to say can YOU find a more enjoyable egg based, exploding chest filled Eurohorror than this one?

I think not.

Monday, September 14, 2020

forbidden fruit basket.

OK, who else had aliens on their 2020 bingo card?


With news that Venus may be teeming with extraterrestrial life (or at the very least a virus that may reanimate the dead) we decided to have a bit of a spooky space night to celebrate, maybe with one of the good Alien films.

This caused no end of problems tho' seeing as my better half loves Aliens, wrongly thinking it's the best one whereas I'm one of those truly insightful folk that know for a fact that Alien3 is by far the superior movie.

After much fisticuffs, burning stuff and shouting we agreed to compromise and settled on...

Forbidden World (AKA Mutant, Subject 20. 1982)
Dir: Allan Holzman.
Cast: Jesse Vint, Dawn Dunlap, June Chadwick, Linden Chiles, Fox Harris, Don Olivera, Raymond Oliver and Scott Paulin.

"Let's go bag ourselves a Dingwhopper!"

Studly space hunk and beige clad gun for hire Mike Colby (rodent faced teevee stalwart Vint) is woken from hyper-sleep by his bucket headed, muffle moothed robot sidekick SAM-104 (voiced by FX man Olivera and played by a child in a cheap Stormtrooper Halloween outfit) to the news that a squadron of cut-throat space pirates are trying to blow them up to the score from 2001.

Not noticing that the monitors are in fact just replaying scenes from Battle Beyond The Stars our hunky hero presses some flashing buttons making random things explode whilst his plastic pal mumbles incomprehensibly.

But there's no rest for the wicked - or the just really incompetent - for no sooner have the space raiders been defeated than an emergency call comes thru' from a genetic research station located on the distant desert world of Xarbia and run by the permanently angry Dr. Gordon Hauser (Chiles, yet another teevee veteran) who in turn is aided and abetted by the one lunged chain smoker Dr. Cal Timbergen (Harris from Repo Man) and posh totty Dr. Barbara Glaser (Chadwick from 'V' with a visible pantie line that almost bursts forth from the screen, God help anyone watching this on a wall mounted plasma, tho' the chances of them getting foreign matter on the screen during the sexy bits will drop sharply).

There are a few other folk but none of them are really that interesting.

Except that is for the cute as a button and scarily shelf arsed Tracy Baxter (played to Formica perfection by the pudgy cheeked and often naked star of Barbarian Queen and Les Ombres De L'été plus former tyre manufacturer Dunlap).

Two puppies fighting in a binbag yesterday.

Arriving at the base and immediately catching the (boss) eye of the sex starved Baxter, Colby is introduced to everyone before being taken up the laboratory (steady) by Dr. Hauser to stare at a room full of dead rabbits and what looks like a big stringy shit in a Perspex box.

Colby, not too sure how to react and being slightly pissed off that he hasn't shot or shagged anyone for at least twenty minutes just looks at it in a quizzical manner.

Oh yes, and occasionally frowns.

But as Dr. Glaser breathlessly explains, this is no common or garden shit but an experimental life form that they've (snappily) named "Subject 20".

Well, it was either that or Lindsey.

"Fuck me! It's Fred Titmuss!"

It appears that the clever old science types have created a brand new synthetic DNA strain - or Proto B as it's more commonly known - in order to rid the galaxy of all famine, unfortunately tho' they accidentally impregnated one of their co-workers with it (during what I can only assume was a really drunken Christmas party) causing it to eat her whole (tho' I think they said it spat that bit out) and kill all the bunnies onboard before covering itself in bright pink feces and falling asleep in a fishtank.

As you would.

Colby decides the best course of action would be to shoot "Subject 20", have sex with Barbara (and/or Tracy), have a quick bite to eat and leave.

Surprisingly the scientists disagree (except for the food bit and probably the sex too) and persuade Colby to retire to the mess for a bag of Johnny Onion Rings and a Pot Noodle before taking any action.

Whilst the rest of the group head off for some tuck, young Ricky lab tech is left in charge of cleaning up the dead rabbits and told, in no uncertain terms not to poke the giant pooh or get any of it in his eyes.

Or his mooth.

"Shite in mah mooth!"

It'll come as no surprise then when Ricky, bored with scraping animal intestines of a bench with a toothbrush, decides to see what happens if he sticks his head in the shit-case and give it a wee tickle.

Much screaming (and much, much more mooth and shite interfacing) ensues.

Rushing into the lab to see what all the shouting's about (and spilling curry sauce down his shirt in the process, which makes a change from the stains left by shame I guess) Dr. Hauser gets even angrier than normal when he discovers that the creature has escaped into the air-vent.

However he soon cheers up when he realizes that Ricky isn't really dead but is being kept alive by the bit of "Subject 20" that fell on him, meaning that when he recovers Hauser can give him a damn good thrashing for ignoring the rules.

Poking Ricky with a stick whilst trying not to let her pendulous breasts droop into the slimy hole that was his face, Barbara makes a horrifying discovery of her own. It seems that the mucky mutant is actually absorbing Ricky and mutating him into another creature.


"I wouldn't want that swimming up my arse".

With everyone upset and the food having gone cold Dr. Hauser suggests (in a rare show of humanity) that everyone should have an early night and worry about the mess in the morning, Barbara has other ideas tho' and persuades Colby to indulge in a game of hide the (undoubtedly moldy) hot dog with this choice piece of chat up dialogue:

Bubbly Babs: "I hear you're the biggest trouble shooter in this part of the galaxy".
Cool-cat Colby: "That's what they tell me".
Bubbly Babs: "Well how'd you like to see some........trouble?"

Bizarrely this movie was cruelly overlooked at the 1982 Oscars, losing out on best Original Screenplay to Chariots of Fire.

Like has anyone ever heard of that let alone seen it?

Anyway, back to the plot and whilst Colby and Babs are getting down and getting dirty, the stations head of security (Late Review's Paulin) sweatily sits back and enjoys the show.

Luckily for us (and the station's cleaners) he's disturbed mid-stroke by a strange grunting noise coming from the cargo bay.

Like all good security types he decides to investigate.


As you can probably guess, it's not long till his dying screams are heard throughout the base causing everyone to wake up in a startled manner but more importantly causing Colby to shoot off early, covering Bab's knees with space spunk.

How will he explain that to his Nan?

"Laugh now!"

The next morning Colby puts his fantastic monster catching plan into operation.

This involves him skulking around the base in a very suspicious manner whilst pointing his gun at stuff.

Well they did say he was the best of the best.

By some strange coincidence he just happens across Tracy whilst she's enjoying a naked steam bath and it's not long before she's persuaded him to get naked too.

How the fuck does he manage it?

Unfortunately for Colby (but fortunate for those of us not turned on by old man cock) just as he's about to stick it in Tracy the monstrous mutant drops out of an air-vent and waves it's flaccid, KY Jelly encrusted tentacles in a vaguely camp manner.

Tracy's ear bursting screams bring the rest of the crew (including a really angry and by now ready to explode with sexual frustration Barbara) running in just in time to see the beast scuttle away into a nearby airlock before bobbing away across the planets surface.

Realizing he's not going to get a proper shag till the thing is dead, Colby suggests that the men folk head outside to hunt it down whilst the ladies make a nice strong cuppa or something.

How your girlfriend manages to pay for all those expensive birthday gifts she gets you.

Decked out in sci-fi head scarves, a couple of second hand gimp masks and some Wellington boots our luckless band (and Sam the robot) wander aimlessly around the studio backlot before coming across what looks like a giant paper mache testicle hanging from a rock.

Sam - being jealous of not having man-parts - shoots it Whilst Dr. Hauser screams something about having much to learn from it and how we should all be friends and stuff.

Before he gets too annoyingly preachy the beast turns up and bites his face before darting back into the airlock with his still twitching body.

Heading back inside (and thus filling the movies meager running time with lots of corridor shots) Colby and co. are just about to explain what's happened when Hauser reappears, all melty faced and dripping shit for every orifice.

As is the way in these situations, he falls on poor Tracy getting her all slimy and sticky meaning that she needs to take a bizarro sonic shower straight away.

Oh yes, and she needs Barbara to join her so she can make sure all the slime is washed off.

No. Need.

It's during this completely non gratuitous and important scene that Barbara realizes that she has the solution to the monster problem.

And no, it's not have slimy tentacle sex with it unfortunately but instead the pair of them decide to don arse revealing bathrobes, head on down to the lab that it's hiding in and have a friendly chat with it.

What could possibly go wrong?

Within minutes Babs is bent over a computer desperately trying to communicate with the beast whilst hoping (in vain) that the cameraman can't see what she had for lunch.

Deciding to ask "What do you want?" the creature pauses for a moment to think of an intelligent answer before replying (in the movies most erotic scene) by shoving one of it's tentacles right up Barbara's arse and out of her mouth.

Tracy runs away screaming, her breasts bouncing like a couple of playful beagles in a bag as she goes.

With only Colby, cough-pot Timbergen, Tracy, her aforementioned breasts and ample arse left alive the chances of anyone surviving to the films end looks bleak.

But Timbergen has a secret weapon and the only thing that can possibly kill a beast capable of instantly adapting to the DNA of its victims.

Other than a nuclear bomb or a big fire obviously.

Yes, you guessed it, he's going to feed it his cancerous stomach tumour.

The only problem being that it's still inside him and Colby is the only person not shot too much to fuck to cut it out.

But as Colby prepares for the operation, the beast slithers ever closer....

With everyone from Luigi Cozzi (the egg-tastic Contamination), Norman Warren (Inseminoid) and Harry Bromley Knight (Xtro) picking over the corpse of Sir Ridley of Scott's big budget seminal sci-fi shlocker Alien, it was only a matter of time before king of the B's Lord Roger Corman got in on the act, first with the James Cameron designed Galaxy Of Terror and then (using the same sets, costumes, etc.) with Forbidden World.

Galaxy of Terror: Slimier monsters, faker breasts.

Directed by the former (and latter) editor Allan Holzman - best known for his work on Crazy Mama and Battle Beyond The Stars - after winning a bet with big Rog that he could shoot and edit enough rough footage in a day to make a coherent scene (that actually ends up as the films opening), Forbidden World may be cheesier than a tramps feet and cheaper than your girlfriend but it possesses a trashy heart (and neck of pure brass) that raises it above much of the competition.

The fact that it features some of the lamest excuses for nudity ever and a monster that the seventies Doctor Who production team would knock back as being too cheap doesn't do it any harm either.*

"Put it in me!"

Shamelessly ripping off everything from Star Wars to 2001 via Silent Running along the way, Forbidden World proudly wears it's influences on it's sleeve, almost boasting how it had (metaphorically) bummed Alien for a fiver then stolen its shoes, in equal parts enjoyable, laughable and as entertaining as watching your Dad drunkenly fall down the stairs whilst pissing himself.

Plus it has the audacity to cast big headed, baby doll Dawn Dunlap as a scientist and expect us not to laugh.

With balls of solid steel and a budget of less than a fiver Forbidden World delivers more scares, shocks, bare arses and laugh now moments than any other film with the same title plus it has slightly more natural breasts than the frighteningly pneumatic pair on show in Galaxy of Terror and for that we should all be grateful.











*Saying that tho' Chibbers and co. would probably sell their weans for aliens as good as this one, Orphan 55 I'm looking at you.

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 95).

Princess Viktoria Luise Adelheid Mathilde Charlotte of Prussia, the only daughter and the last child of German Emperor Wilhelm II and Augusta Victoria of Schleswig-Holstein and great-granddaughter of Queen Victoria.
 Her 1913 wedding to Prince Ernest Augustus of Hanover was the largest gathering of reigning monarchs in Germany since German unification in 1871, and one of the last great social events of European royalty before the First World War began fourteen months later. 
See? Who says this blog isn't educational?