cigarettes and alcohol.

As I admitted earlier this week, I went out and bought another version of Zombie Lake on Wednesday (because reasons).

What I didn't admit was that I also purchased another copy of this classic too. 

But why I hear you cry.

Because it's quite possibly the second best Nazi zombie movie ever made by the writer (and original director) of Zombie Lake

So without further delay allow me to introduce you to the genius that is Oasis of the Zombies.

Enjoy.

I know I did.

Probably.

La Tumba de los muertos vivientes (AKA Grave of the Living Dead, Oasis of the Zombies, Oasis of the Living Dead, Treasure of the Living Dead, Bloodsucking Nazi Zombies. 1983).
Dir: Jesus Franco (probably, well the majority of it, as A.M. Frank).
Cast: Manuel Gélin, Eduardo Fajardo, Henri Lambert, Myriam Landson, Antonio Mayans, Eric Viellard, Javier Maiza, Albino Graziani, Miguel Aristu, Doris Regina, Caroline Audret, and France Lomay (but not Lina Romay - well not in some versions).

"Quick, get some bottles to make Molotov cocktails with like in school".

Our tale of terror opens with two ample arsed ladies who have taken time out from their holiday to sunny Tripoli to visit a haunted oasis in the middle of the desert.

as one would on any package tour.

At least it's somewhere to park your bike.

It appears that the locals have been filling the girls (settle down) heads with all sorts of scary stories about the oasis and how it's haunted by the restless spirits of murdered Nazi soldiers but the ladies, probably thinking that undead baby killers are less likely to try it on with them at the local disco than the greasy mustachioed natives decide to go take a look for themselves.

It comes as no surprise (to us that is, they seem visibly shocked) when they're dragged beneath the sands to their deaths by mysterious and moldy bread-like hands....

Melania's let herself go....less Be Best more Be Beast.

Cut to rugged, porn 'tached Colonel Kurt Maitzell (Lambert) and his sexy chain smoking, oh so slightly stern and Lego haired wife (Landson, covering for Lina Romay who only appears in the French version*) on vacation in Tripoli to catch up with his oldest military acquaintance and World War II rival, the stiff (upper lipped) Captain Robert Blabert Sr. (Maiza).

Landson: sexily supply teacher-like, yet still
replaced by Lina Romay in some versions.

Fighting on opposite sides during World War II (Maitzell alongside Rommel, Blabert with Monty) Maitzell has a business proposition for his former adversary; it appears that $6,000,000 worth of Nazi gold went missing during a battle in the Libyan desert and there’s every reason to think the gold is still there.

Blabert agrees and goes to fetch his map of the site but just when you think that the movie is going to become a kind of 'Indiana Jones vs. the undead' style adventure (albeit a wee bit cheaper) Maitzell stabs Blabert with a poisoned biro and legs it into the desert with the map.

Destination: The Oasis.

Of The Zombies.

And not Oasis in Birmingham where I used to buy all my clothes in the 80s obviously.

Not you.

Suddenly for fear of the film getting too exciting we're transported - by what looks like someone's holiday Super 8's filmed on a cotton bedsheet - to swinging London where Blabert’s son, also confusingly named Robert (Gélin) has just received a letter regarding not only his dads death but a mention of the missing millions.

This obviously has no baring on him deciding to embark post haste to Tripoli.

While he’s getting his stuff together for the journey, Robert Jr. finds his dad’s wartime diary, complete with the exciting tale of his mission to intercept the Nazi gold.

It's so exciting in fact that it causes the picture to go all wobbly as we experience an incredibly overlong flashback full of glaring continuity errors, too much acting and far too many unnecessary sex scenes.

Unlike the flashback in Zombie Lake which is cinematic gold.

"She's turned the weans against us!"

Important things that we learned from this sequence include the fact that between 1943 and 1983, Robert Snr. didn't age one jot (is he perchance related to Howard Vernon’s Zombie Lake Mayor Hoek?), that Robert Jr. was conceived during the war yet is only in his early twenties and that his mum was as a sheiks daughter (and played by the sultry - and slightly boss eyed - Doris Regina, star of Orgy of the Nymphomaniacs).

Oh yes and his dad was really shit at drawing.

Aye....seems legit.

Impressed with his dads tales of daring-do and random impregnations, Robert manages to persuade his pals the council estate Mark Hamill-alike Ronald (Viellard), lank haired troll Sylvia (Audret), and the pube headed, bespectacled Ahmed (Aristu, whom you may remember from The Night of Sincere Sex, no? suit yourself), to join him in Libya on his hunt for the gold.

So far so plodding.

Things soon hot up tho' when we catch up with Colonel Maitzell and his wife (admit it you'd forgotten about them hadn't you?) who, it appears have arrived at the oasis (alongside some badly dubbed shirtless hired muscle) and have decided to rest for the night and start excavations first thing in the morning.

Whilst the Colonel and his missis sleep (well he sleeps, she just continues to smoke) the muscle men sit around playing cards (but not alas using The UnDeck - copies still available) and thinking of the best way to screw over the Maitzells and keep the gold for themselves.

If you hadn't already guessed they are very, very bad men.

Before they can make a decision as to the best way to rid themselves of the Colonel and his wife (tho' the cigarettes will probably finish her off soon) the dunes suddenly burst alive with the sound of undead Nazis rising from their graves beneath the sand.

Well with the sound of various farmyard animals - alongside what sounds like a squeaky rocking chair - slowed down, which much as I admire this avant garde approach to sound design is actually a bit shit.

"Aye son!"

The Colonel manages to escape the ensuing blood bath but not before he's given a nasty hickie by one of the zombies (and we all know what that means), but being such a hard man he's able to stumble back to Tripoli and into Robert and his pals before dying.

Badly.


Robert seems to find the whole situation a wee bit annoying - tho' not as annoying as his pal Ronald seeing as it's interrupted his attempts to worm his way into the affections (and bri-nylon undies) of the cutely blond, dungaree wearing Erika (professional rude lady Lomay from the classic Pussy Talk 2), assistant to kindly anthropologist cum Dave Lee Travis lookalike Professor Denikan (Two Female Spies with Flowered Panties star Gratziano) and his colleague Steve Soontodie who is that unimportant he doesn't even get a credit on the movie.

Poor sod.

Or very lucky sod depending on how you rate the film.

taking a lighter from his breast pocket, Professor DLT-lite nonchalantly torches The Colonel's body before explaining in great depth that anyone bitten by a zombie will rise from the dead.

Really? well I never.

And probably never will if I continue to spend all my time watching shite like this.

Or at least that's what my mum always said.

It's not Omar Shariff it's Omar the thief....of your heart.

Robert and his pals are suitably nonplussed by all these tales of death - and the fact that the hairy cornflake has just torched a corpse - and reckon that after a good nights kip they can go visit Granddad Sheik, borrow a camel or two then be at the oasis and back with the gold before tea time.

Yeah right.

Not wanting to be stuck in the local town any longer than necessary, Denikan, yummy Erika (after some soft focus hot lovin' with Ronald) and Soontodie decide it'd be best to leave for the desert straight away in order to set up camp and have a cuppa brewing ready for Rob and companies arrival.

And not, I repeat not in order to steal the gold for themselves.

"Is it in yet?"

All that conniving is immaterial tho' as the next day when Robert and co. finally arrive at the oasis they're shocked to find Denikan's party covered in blood and love bites whilst their native guide runs around like a wuss screaming “The living dead! The zombies! The zombies that came out of the sandwich is there!”

Well that's what it sounded like.


Robert assumes this is some kind of sick joke, even going as far as to accuse Denikan of making the whole thing up when the poor guy wakes up shouting the same thing.

The fact that his arse is covered in bite marks is obviously not important.

She's going to have someones eye out.

With our heroes banded together at the oasis, the scene is set for a climactic battle between the living and the dead.

Which would be nice seeing as so far we've only seen the zombies for about 10 minutes in total.

And to be honest I'm not even sure they were actually zombies seeing as they looked (and smelled probably) more like a bunch of homeless folk the director happened across whilst scouting for locations.

But enough of that because the movie is racing (limping?) toward its exciting climax as suddenly the dead begin to rise from the dunes hell bent on eating the would be gold-baggers....

Will Robert and his friends survive the attack?

Will they find the gold?

Will Erika escape or will the zombies eat her whole? (seeing as most of the undead spit that bit out).

Is 'gold-baggers' actually a word?

And how many of my reviews have featured that 'joke' (which was way past it's sell by date when they used it in Carry On Columbus)?

Franco's Oasis of the Zombies can be viewed as a terrifying companion piece to Jean Rollin's classic Zombie Lake, seeing as both films share a similar plot, villains and structure.

Oh yes, and the same script.

Bizarre as it sounds that's actually true and to add even more confusion to the background of the epic Oasis was actually released in dozens of re-edited versions, each one concentrating on a different thread of the plot.

But the strangest thing regarding Oasis of the Zombies is that Franco shot two separate versions of the film simultaneously, one for the French market and one for the Spanish.

Neither of them that good.

"You ain't seen me right?"

As with most (all?) Jess Franco flicks the acting varies from unemotional cardboard to sturdy MDF with most of the females being cast due to arse size and an abundance of bush rather than any thespian ability.

Make-up wise the Nazi zombies are a step up from the green, gloss painted goons of Zombie Lake (which admittedly isn't that difficult) tho' some do look a wee bit too much like necrophiliac sex dolls for my liking.

The Matt Hancock love doll: Insert cock here and fuck him like he fucked the NHS.

Still it's worth a look for any fans of the much maligned Nazi zombie genre or large 1970's European bottoms.

Which means everyone here I guess.

































*But don't quote me on that as it may be a total lie.

jl eh?

Was rewatching the Snyder 'cut' of Justice League in preparation for The Flash and still can't get my head around this scene:

"What are your super powers again?"

 

"I'm Rich"

 

But I thought his name was Bruce, is Rich his middle name or is it Bruce his middle name and he just prefers it? 

 

Or is Rich his other alter ego? 

 

Was he born Bruce, became the Batman and then realize he was Richard all along. 

His name Rich being his superpower in a kind of an homage to the Superman/Kal-El/Clark trichotomy?

 

Anyone?

 

 

it's not just the water that's dirty....

My all time favourite lake-based zombie movie has just been re-released on shiny DVD (with an even thinner sleeve than last time if that's at all possible) so I really had to go buy (another) copy, especially seeing as it now features the version with the big grey granny pants not seen since the heady days of the big-boxed Betamax 'Modern Films' release.

Which I also own.

I know I should really get out more.

Don't expect me to be too critical of this unsung masterpiece of the macabre tho' cos it's abso-fucking-lutely brilliant.

If you don't believe me then you're a fool.

And that's a fact.

Now that's out of the way let's start as we mean to go on.....with a wee bit of gratuitous nudity.

 Beware! Zombie Lake!

Are you sitting comfortably?

So let us begin...

Zombie(s) Lake (AKA Le Lac Des Morts Vivants, 1981)
Dir: Jean Rollin and/or Jess Franco (as J.A. Lazer)
Cast: Howard Vernon, Annouchka, Rene Douglas, Youri Rad, Nadine Pascal, Gilda Arancio, Pierre-Marie Escourrou, Alain Petit, Pascale Vital, Jean Rollin, some zombies and a lake.

Welcome to 1970's exploitation Europe and an oh-so-slightly scummy lake somewhere in France, the sun is glistening over the discarded condoms, fag boxes and pop cans as an incredibly buxom beauty (Vital from Come Play With Me 2 - like it matters) is frolicking thru' the trees and gaily throwing her clothes behind her.

Stripped naked and enjoying the sun (unless you're watching the 80's UK 'Modern Films' Betamax edition where she's sporting big grey granny pants) she suddenly notices a 'danger' sign near the waters edge.

Tossing it aside she dives into the welcoming waters of the lake.

Little does she realize that it is, in fact, a lake of death.

Or more correctly a lake of zombies.

A 'zombie lake' if you will.

Swimming fun - death (or at the
very least a huge dose of the shits) to follow.

Sexily splashing away to a frankly fantastic Europorn organ soundtrack and making sure to keep her ample breasts in shot at all times, our wet 'n' wild wench doesn't notice the shadowy figures lurking just below the surface.

Well she wouldn't would she, seeing as all those shadowy figure bits have been filmed miles away and weeks later at a disused public swimming baths.

Anyway, back to the action where without warning - unless you count the sudden burst of 'spooky' organ music that is - a green hand grabs for the girls leg and pulls her below the surface to her doom.

Which is quite scary if I'm honest, tho' not as scary as the loud pops and scratches that constitute a smooth transition to the next scene which appears to be made up of someone's holiday Super 8's of a quaint (if not a little seedy) public house somewhere in Normandy.

Most probably the town of Domfront* if I'm not mistaken.

Inside this marvelous example of early 19th century Orne architecture another, totally different buxom lady (she's blonde for one thing) is serving huge jugs (snigger) of beer to the locals who are busy eating snails and gossiping about the sheer amount of young girls who go missing near the local lake.

"She probably met some young stud eh?" remarks Claude (Rad - best known for his fantastic portrayal of 'the barman' in The Panther Squad), the big burly Brian Blessed alike as his drips piss weak French lager down his plaid shirt.

His rat-like companions twirl their mustaches in agreement before deciding to go see the Mayor if she hasn't shown up by closing time.

I mean come on, those tables aren't going to clean themselves.

Domfront: Local.

Morning dawns and the Mayor (who it appears is played by Ren Hoek from The Ren and Stimpy Show....no it's genre god Vernon working to pay off his parking fines) is rudely awakened from his garlic-fueled fantasies by Claude and his chums loudly banging on his door.

It seems that after much frantic searching there's been no sign of the girl except her discarded clothes, so Mayor Ren decides to call in the police from the next village - his town being so small that they don't have any of their own.

Meanwhile, out near the (zombie) lake another busty young woman is busily spending her day pushing a milk churn in a wheelbarrow across a bridge whilst wearing orthopedic shoes.

Which if I'm honest was reason enough to vote remain when we had the chance.

Unfortunately she is so deeply involved in her obviously important job that she totally fails to notice the fact that a shadowy green figure is watching her from the lakeside.

A shadowy figure which is revealed to be a one-eyed zombie in a Nazi uniform.

Well I say Nazi uniform but it's really a pair of moldy Quick-Fit overalls with Swastikas painted on them topped off with a pair of Wellington boots but at least the thought was there.

If not the budget.

The hideous Hun quickly grabs the woman and grapples her to the ground before clumsily exposing her hideous brown bra to the world and finally messily nuzzling her neck.

She screams kicking off her horrendous clogs in the struggle as the zombie dribbles poster paint over her throat in a cacophony of hisses, scratches and pops that suddenly cut to her prone body being laid (but not in that way, tho' I wouldn't put it past the French) on the Mayor's patio by an ever sweatier than earlier Claude.

Check the shoes (and the milk
churn in a wheelbarrow).

"I know how you feel about your daughter," Mayor Ren tells her distraught dad as he shuffles about his daughters corpse desperately trying to cover her big white pants.

Which is nice.

"No son, I ordered semi-skimmed."

As the fumbling father heads off into the bushes for a tearful wank and a garlic frogs leg flavoured Pot Noodle the gathered crowd (all six of them) stand motionless gazing longingly at the Mayor for what seems like an eternity.

Before it gets too uncomfortable tho' there's another cack-handed cut and we're suddenly watching Ren sitting on a bridge, his sinewy wrinkled arms wrapped around two obviously terrified young boys as he slowly drags them ever closer to his quivering, sweat covered lips.

"Is it in yet?"

It turns out that the boys have witnessed something strange near the lake and the Mayor wants all to know all the facts straight from their pretty mouths.

And probably a 'special ' cuddle too.

"Fuck me! It's Jon Pertwee!"

Meanwhile back at the pub ace reporter Janet Ellis (Arancio from Pourvu qu'on ait l'ivresse and your granddad's bed) has arrived in town determined to uncover the mystery of the 'ghostly lake' and heads over to Claude's table to pump him for information.

"You call it the Lake of Ghosts." Announces Janet.

Claude grunts, strokes his droopy mustache and lets loose a very eggy fart before realizing that this would probably make a better title for the film.

So impressed by Janet's use of words - and her hairy back and arse - he quickly offers to take her up the Mayors house.

Which is sadly not a euphemism for field based bare-backing tho' it really should be. 

Once there, Janet wastes no time (OK maybe a minute or so) introducing herself before explaining that she's working on a story regarding the legends of the lake and surrounding area for a local TV show called Zombing About.

Probably.

Ren tells her she's talking bollocks, which she counters by whipping out a huge book detailing the legends of the lake (and other stuff) from her tiny handbag.

"Now I'm intrigued!" a visibly aroused Ren exclaims, rubbing his boney hands together with glee.

His pleasure is soon curtailed when he begins reading thru' the tome tho' deciding that it's too vague to be of any use.

"The book is too out of date to be useful" he cries.

You heard it here first kids, any books not written within the last forty minutes must be obsolete and should therefore be burned. 

Janet, not being an inbred hick, argues that legends and folktales like these are usually based on fact.

"But they are the very stuff of books." Ren cryptically (and nonsensically) replies, before launching into a tale from the heady days of the second world war.....

What your granddad really did during the war.

Thru' the magic of the 'wobbly dissolve' (that's the actual technical term for it, go on check) we're quickly transported back to the 1940's where a crack squad of German soldiers are battling an (unseen) airplane with pellet guns whilst yet another busty blonde (Pascale, who it turns out actually worked again appearing in everything from Ópalo de fuego: Mercaderes del sexo with Lina Romay to Sechs Schwedinnen im Pensionat with professional sauce-pot Brigitte Lahaie) stands screaming at the chaos and bloodshed going on just out of shot.

Noticing how the sunlight glistens on her ample breasts, Klaus, the sexy blond Nazi-boy (is there any other kind?) in charge (Escourrou - bless you) runs thru' the ensuing explosions to save her, grappling her to the ground as a 'huge' (ahem) bomb goes off.

Later that evening she shows her gratitude by having sex with him in a barn to the strains of romantic choral music.

As morning breaks the lovers prepare to go their separate ways - her to explain to her dad why she's having sex with a Nazi, him to slaughter some more Jews, the disabled etc. - she gives him a huge pendant to remember her by.

Which begs the question who knew they had pound shops in 1940's France?

Anyway, after what seems about 3 days worth of footage of the Nazi's fighting in the snow against (invisible) Russians and driving around aimlessly in a badly painted milk float, Aryan boy returns to the village to find that his 'lady friend' is heavily pregnant.

On discovering this fact - and being a blackclad badboy - he kisses her goodbye and leaves almost immediately to rejoin his jackbooted buddies for a bit more killing.

Cue even more shooting at imaginary foes and driving down deserted country lanes to a slightly sinister soundtrack.

Fear not tho' because before too long - probably due to the rocking motion in the back of the van - the crack troops are all desperate for a toilet break and a quick ciggie.

Just like the audience.

But, unlike the said viewer the soldiers joy is cut short by Claude and his buddies who leap out of the trees and shoot them all dead before dumping their bodies in the local lake.

See? it's all coming together now.

"Not the face luv!"

 

In a case of spooky coincidence - or plot contrivance take your pick - blond boy's squeeze dies at exactly the same moment.

Tho' this may have more to do with the fact that she's giving birth to a ball headed baby than some supernatural quirk of fate.

Janet, unable to hide her disappointment at such a shite story makes her farewells and heads back to the pub with only an evening of cheap drink and the chance of Claude pawing at her underwear with his sweaty sausage fingers for comfort.

Which, if I'm honest sounds a pretty good night.

Meanwhile back at the lake a local all-girl volleyball team have decided to stop for a picnic followed by some nude cavorting to a jaunty Hammond organ score.

As groups of women together are known to do.

Giggling, combing each others hair and throwing a ball around (in glorious boob bouncing close-up) they're all blissfully unaware of the evil lurking nearby.

And I'm not talking about Claude.

A nude volleyball team frolicking in a lake earlier today.

As is always the way in these situations there's usually one person for whom jiggling about in the nude is never enough, so a cry of "Let's all go for a swim in this inviting and zombie-free lake!" is soon heard and the ladies cheerfully dive in for more ball based, giggly fun.

But down below the zombies are on the move.

Not too quickly tho' as they appear to be enjoying the underwater shots of the girls swimming, doing star jumps and kicking their legs wide open as much as we are.

I don't have the words.

The zombies soon remember that this is meant to be a horror film tho' and soon enough decide to attack, fondling the ladies soft thighs as they drag them to their doom at the bottom of the lake.

Luckily one of the team has been sitting on the banks painting her nails so manages to run screaming and wobbling towards the village clad only in a big (and I mean BIG) pair of blue pants.

Claude and his posse are enjoying a quiet beer or three (now there's a surprise) when she bursts into the pub screaming before promptly collapses on their table.

Obviously impressed by the service and totally enamored by her choice of underwear Claude orders his pals to take her 'up the stairs' (I don't know if this is a particularly French sexual activity but we never see her again) whilst at the same time top 'tecs Spitz and Moran (played by a shaved ferret and Rollin himself, fact fans) arrive on the scene, stopping by the pub to ask directions to Mayor Ren's residence.

It's all go in this town isn't it?

 
"Waitress! this gammons off!"

Mayor Ren cracks under the good hair/bad hair double act and reveals the full sordid history of the 'Lake of the Damned' and how it's evil has stretched back as far as the middle ages and maybe even earlier.

Tho' probably not as far back as lunchtime tho' because that would be silly.

Spitz and Moran unfortunately think he's talking complete shite and decides to go back to the pub to, um, 'interview' people.

As all this is going down (as the yoof say) our favourite Aryan zombie has taken a break from all the killing and decided to go and visit his now grown up (well 12 year old) daughter Helena (Anouchka - star of White Cannibal Queen and daughter of producer Daniel Lesoeur, which if nothing else meant she knew exactly who to fuck to get out of the movie).

Surprisingly she takes his re-appearance quite well, seeing as he's now a green skinned, undead beast in a (possibly very damp smelling) German uniform.

The lack of surprise is only equaled by the films lack of logic, I mean it's now the 'modern' (well the 1980's) day, so how come she's not in her early 40's?

Ignoring this vexing plot point they exchange knowing glances and he heads back to the lake.

But what of Europe's greatest detective duo?

"Where's mah hoosekeepin'?"

Well Spitz and Moran, now bored with getting pissed and annoying the locals elect to go and investigate the disappearance of the basketball team everyone's talking about, especially upon hearing that they were nude.

Heading out to the lake the dynamic duo soon come across an abandoned camper van and piles of ladies clothes.

"Do you think it's foul play?" asks Moran as he wipes his now flaccid member on a discarded t-shirt.

"It beats me," Spitz replies, "There's no clue to what happened." 

Save the bloodstained shoes and claw marks on the benches obviously.


Shrugging at each other in a manner usually reserved for impatient waiters the pair proceed to rifle thru' the team's discarded handbags no doubt in order to pocket lipsticks, blusher etc. to give to their wives.

But as this blatant abuse of police power continues the zombies are slowly rising from their watery graves and preparing to attack killing the detectives.

But this is only the beginning of their lust for vengeance (and lust for blood and possibly big pants too) as the unstoppable zombie horde starts to shuffle towards the village.....

Your can't imagine the sheer ecstatic pleasure I feel every time a young film fan inadvertently discovers the joy of Jean Rollin/Jess Franco's infamous no-budget zombie 'epic', directed under the frankly fantastic pseudonym 'J.A. Lazer' and starring Rollin regular, the frighteningly ferret like Howard Vernon - what Zombie Lake lacks in budget, plot, effects, editing, coherent storytelling etc. it more than makes up for with lots of long, lingering nude scenes (not found in the original bulky boxed betamax UK Modern Films release) alongside scenes of such mind numbing bizarreness that you'll be flicking back to make sure you really did see them.

And then just flicking away in general.

Seriously it's that good.

Experience the crew forgetting to turn the lights on till halfway through a scene!

Recoil in horror as Nazi zombies in green emulsion stomp about in a swimming pool!

Swoon as grannie-haired Gilda Arancio sits in the pub with a sweating mustached man!

Go open another bag of crisps as the unnecessary love story subplot (complete with soft focus ‘lurve’ scenes) unfolds in bum numbing detail!

Strain your ears trying to decipher the almost Lynchian dialogue and get a headache attempting to figure out how it relates to the action on screen!

Get slightly uncomfortable as you watch the antics of the nude female basketball team unfold to a cheesy 'europorn' score and much more besides!

Your mum and dad drunk at Christmas.

You know you’re onto a winner when you realize that Rollin was in fact using a completely different script to the one his actors had (he admitted as much in a 1981 interview in Starburst Magazine number 48…go find it out, it’s the special Zombie issue fact fans) meaning that for the majority of the films shoot people were just looking at him blankly as he barked out directions at them.

If only  Jennifer Kent had have had the same problem during The Babadook we might have had a halfway decent movie.

Plus when Jess Franco has dropped out of a project due to it being utter shit you know you're in trouble.

That's not me on the cover BTW....Everyone knows that I was the small boy in Suspiria.

Usually at this point I spend ages ripping a film apart and making puerile jokes at the crews expense but in all honesty I can't do it with Zombie(s) Lake because it's so damn wonderful.

No, really.

If it wasn't then why did Jess Franco remake it a few years later as Oasis of The Zombies?

Seriously, same plot, villains and structure.

Oh yes, and the same script.

Essential viewing for fans of Eurotrash horror, anyone who thinks they've already seen the worst movie ever or those who really enjoyed 'Bloody Moon'.

Sheer genius.


























* Domfront is a very pretty hilltown in the south of Normandy full of ancient ramparts and a quaint old town centre with half timbered houses, an historic church and a breathtaking castle.

There is also a popular - and cheap - market on Friday mornings.

More importantly I was once taken advantage of by a 20 year old French exchange student who came from there named Cécile Fournier.

She drank wine not snakebite, swore like a trooper, smoked like a chimney, didn't shave under her arms and smelled of Mint Aero.

But more importantly she was the spitting image of Rena Mandel from Carl Theodor Dreyer’s 1932 film Vampyr. 

Only with an added leather biker jacket.

Come on, what’s not to love?

After a fair bit of sneaky hand holding and the like (she said she felt guilty as I was but a boy) and the like she eventually asked me to move to France with her to live on her family farm but being really young and nervous I declined.
 

But I still have Zombie Lake.

Nuff said.

french letter.

Rewatched this last night because it's quite probably the greatest balsa-wood based Concorde movie ever made.

By the director of Cannibal Holocaust that is.

And if nothing else it's most definitely the cheapest.

Enjoy.
 
Concorde Affaire '79 (AKA Affare Concorde, SOS Concorde. 1979).
Dir: 'Roger' Deodato.....Hmmmm could be a pseudonym.
Cast:  James Franciscus, Mimsy Farmer, Venantino Venantini, Fiamma Maglione,
Edmund Purdom, Mag Fleming, Joseph Cotten, Ottaviano Dell'Acqua, Robert Kerman, Renzo Marignano, Francisco Charles and Van 'Damage' Johnson.

Whilst on an exciting test flight over the director's swimming pool, Air France Concorde 820 (or a hastily constructed cardboard facsimile of it) is mysteriously sabotaged causing it to crash land in the ocean just off the coast of Martinique.

Which for anyone interested is an insular region of France located in the Lesser Antilles in the eastern Caribbean Sea.

And more importantly a really cheap place to shoot a movie.

Ask Joe D'Amato if you don't believe me.

Tho' if you do you'd need the help of a spiritualist seeing as he's been dead for 17 years.

Someone who's not dead tho' is bush haired air hostess Jean Beneyton (the frisky Farmer from such classics as Four Flies On Grey Velvet, The Perfume of the Lady in Black and Autopsy) who, as luck would have it was thrown clear of the plane as it crashed and has been surviving the cruel sea by holding onto a tinfoil covered French loaf.

Rescued by two fishermen (including Dakar from Zombie Flesh Eaters who must have come free with the boat hire) her situation manages to go from bad to worse when a sexy speedboat appears and kills the poor fishing folk before taking Jean hostage.

The swines.

Meanwhile in 'downtown' New York City (every 80's Italian movie has to have at least 20 minutes shot - usually without permits - in The 'Big' Apple in order to convince us all that we're watching a big budget blockbuster) mahogany skinned investigative reporter, Moses Brody (Franciscus from Cat O'Nine Tails, Beneath The Planet Of The Apes and the Betty Ford Clinic) has just received a worried phone call from his horse faced ex-wife Nicole (Maglione, best known as Mr. Desmond's Secretary in Nightmare City), kaftan sporting owner of Kidman's restaurant the best place to eat fresh lobster in the whole of Martinique.

This isn't that important to the plot but I enjoy painting a mental image for the audience.

Especially seeing as the director appears to have forgotten that it should be his job.

Anyway it seems that Nicole has a lead on an important story and needs Moses to fly out to Martinique as soon as.

With a window in his schedule and a whorish girlfriend hinting that she's pregnant (this plot point will never be returned to) Moses packs his patented Action Slacks alongside his favourite nipple revealing polyester shirt and heads off to Martinique.

"Hello French Polishers? You might just be able to save my career!"

Upon arrival tho' Brody is devastated to learn that Nicole has died suddenly from an apparent heart attack.

It says a lot for the local police force and their investigation techniques that Brody is literally taken from the restaurant to the morgue and just shown her dead body, no ID checks or anything like that - it's lucky that the body was his ex-wife I mean it could have been anyone.

Saying that tho' I'm not really that au fait on the customs of the Lesser Antilles (to be honest the only Antilles I care about is Wedge) so maybe it's a tradition that all newly arrived tourists are taken the local morgue to see a corpse.

Answers to the usual email address please.

Brody being, well a lush basically, decides to deal with her death by getting blind drunk.

He's blissfully unaware tho' that he's being followed by a grubby looking gang led by a tussle haired American in obscene sports shorts.

Wandering around the town centre in a daze Brody is suddenly attacked by the aforementioned gang of thugs (they're probably eager for some tight American manass) but is rescued from certain death - and a vicious buggering - by a porn 'tashed local fisherman named George (Super Witch of Love Island's Charles).

Waking up on Charles' trawler with his trousers on backwards Brody discovers that our droopy 'tashed tinker was a good friend of Nicole and that he reckons she was killed because she'd discovered that the missing Concorde had crash landed on a nearby reef.

The pair decide to investigate.

Meanwhile in a broom cupboard somewhere in an office block near the producers house, evil business bloke Raymond Milland (ex circus boss and Italian movie stalwart Cotten) and his business partner Jeff Danker (genre God Purdom) are rubbing their hands together with glee (or it may be the cold) at the thought of being the ones that downed the Concorde.

It appears that Milland runs a company that specializes in producing those little pillows you get on long haul flights but with Concorde being so fast the demand for them will drop bankrupting the company.

To this end the pair have employed the hairy armed Forysthe (Venantini from oh loads of stuff) alongside his previously mentioned tight-bunned assistant John (Dell'Acquam stuntman on everything from Zombi 3 to Quantum of Solace - no seriously) to cover up any evidence involved with the crash.

Even if it involves murder.

Which by this point it does.

Obviously.

Water in mah mooth!

Heading out to sea the next day Brody and George are surprised to see poor old  Jean launch herself off Forysthe's boat and attempt to swim towards them spluttering something about Concorde's and crashes before being dragged back onboard.

Any worries they have concerning her safety are quickly alleviated when one of  Forysthe's crew explains that she's a wee bit mental due to having her womans period.

With a noncommittal shrug our heroic duo continue out to sea.

Arriving at the - alleged -  crash site the pair don scuba gear and dive into the water where they almost instantly come across the downed Concorde (well a paper model of one filmed thru' a fishtank) resting on a coral reef.

Forcing his way into a broken door Brody goes inside the wreck only for the buckled metal opening to slam shut trapping George's (wanking) hand.

It never rains.

Unaware of the potential disaster happening just outside Brody continues to explore the wreck only to find a shark lying (floating?) in wait - seriously is there anything this movie doesn't have? - so decides to head back to the surface to formulate a new plan.

Approaching the exit Brody notices George's predicament so swimmings out thru' a handy hole in the planes fuselage he valiantly attempts to tug George free.

With only oooh an hour or so's worth of oxygen left Brody has the choice of heading to the surface and fetching a crowbar or hastily cutting of George's arm with a rusty penknife.

Guess which plan he plumbs for.

Dragging his stricken comrade to the surface Brody is surprised - tho' not as surprised as George is - when a boatful of henchman fire on the pair hitting George in his face which explodes in a sea of blood.

How's your luck?

Brody is forced to dive below as two scuba-divers give chase.

Imagine Thunderball but re-shot in a council swimming pool by blind, hook-handed children.

You're welcome.

"Excuse me I have my woman's period!"

Brody - being the hero - outwits the pair by hiding in an underwater cave before returning to the surface and and tossing John off (the boat), stealing it them jetting away.

Phew.

Heading to the United States Consul demands an investigation.

Or at least a shifty handjob from the ferret-like ambassador only to be told that they all know about his reputation for making up stories and that he should fuck off.

Which is nice if a little extreme.

Dancing provocatively for the embassy staff Brody manages to persuade them to mount a search for the plane only to find no sign of it upon returning to the site.

True there seems to be the remains of an explosion but the two couldn't be related could they?

Well the local authorities don't seem to care so why should we?

Perry Como impresses Johnny Cash by balancing a childs toy phone on his penis.

Meanwhile back at the subplot, Milland and his men are busy watching a video his grandson has made of a toy airplane sinking in a bath.

No hang on it's actually meant to be a video of the submerged Concorde being blow-up by a group of scuba-divers.

Tho' never having seen a multi-million pound plane explode underwater who am I to say that the footage isn't frighteningly realistic?

But then again I have eyes.

Their fun is short lived tho' as a sweaty subordinate soon arrives to spoil the day with some disturbing news.

Turns out that Jean is being held for a $1 million ransom by some badmen intent on squeezing a few quid out of Milland and Co.

But we all knew that anyway.

Bizarrely enough she's being held by the very same folk that Milland has hired to blow up the Concorde and kill any witnesses so it's not as if he doesn't know who - and where - she's being held so surely he could just get some other folk to kill the guys double-crossing him?

No?

Oh well it's obviously easier to pay the ransom and be seen as a push-over rather than violently deal with Forsythe and his pals therefore meaning that anyone else would think twice about crossing you in future?

Just a thought.

Anyway there's precious little time to think about such trivia as yet another Air France Concorde is preparing to fly from Venezuela to London.

Well actually it's the crew preparing for the journey, it's not some kind of sentient Transformers style robot plane.

Tho' at this point no plot twist would be too far-fetched.

Thinking about it any plot twist would be appreciated.

Or just a half decent plot in general.

Dollar: The porn years.

Later that evening, Brody - clad only in the briefest pair of pants ever seen on the cinema screen - sneaks on board Forsythe's boat where he overhears the crew not only planning to do away with poor Jean but also how they're planning to sabotage the other Concorde.

Scoundrels.

Being the designated hero Brody rescues Jean and the pair steal a speedboat and zoom away toward dry land where they hitch a ride to the embassy building from a local banana seller.

But Forsythe is soon in hot pursuit, determined to kill the dynamic duo before they can alert the authorities of the danger to Concorde.

As in the plane not the market famous for selling knock-off trainers in my home town of Sedgley.

Cos it's obviously not the one in Brierley Hill seeing as that shut in 2013.

The planes on that sigh are heading for an almighty crash.

On board the aforementioned Flight 128, Captain Barry Scott (famed Hollywood television actor, dancer and closet homosexualist Johnson) is shocked to find the plane suddenly losing power, tho' it's more shocking that the production team thought that anyone would be fooled into thinking that the cockpit of Concorde is the size and shape of a small cupboard.

Turns out that just like previously, an evil henchman has sneakily popped vials of acid in the microwavable chicken which when heated leaks out of the ovens and fuses the planes electrical cables.

So there you go.

With the plane losing more and more power and Brody and Jean surrounded by Forsythe and his men things are looking grim for the passengers of Flight 128.

And not even the soon to be star of Cannibal Holocaust Robert Kerman who's just turned up as a frightfully British air traffic controller appears to have any idea how to save them.

Or any idea of what he's doing there if I'm honest, other than as a favour to the director obviously.

Will Brody make it to the consulate before it's too late?

Will Concorde crash into the ocean?

Will I ever learn not to spend my Friday nights watching utter shite?

Made no doubt to cash in on the upcoming Airport '79: The Concorde (the fourth and final installment of the Airport franchise) and shot prior to his mockumentary masterpiece Cannibal Holocaust, Ruggero (or Roger as he's known here) Deodato's The Concorde Affair is a bizarre hodge-podge of sub-Bondian bad guys, package holiday globe-trotting and threadbare effects held together (barely) by the genuine charm of James Franciscus.

Tho' it may be the effect of all the duty-free he consumed during the shoot.

Who knows?

Obviously he wasn't as drunk as screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi was when he started to write the plot tho', it's all over the place - at one point espionage thriller and at another it's a disaster movie before randomly throwing in shark attacks and kidnapping subplots whilst screen legends Edmund Purdom and Joseph Cotten appear every few minutes in scenes that play like a community centre version of Dallas.

Of the other cast members of this brain-melting ball of half-baked confusion and coincidences, the yumsome Mimsy Farmer is criminally underused (and overdressed) as Jean, forced into an oversized mans shirt whilst crying and muttering to herself leaving the aforementioned Franciscus to carry the whole movie, tho' to be honest he just seems to be enjoying the paid holiday.

And you can't really blame him.

On a more bizarre note it's strange yet somehow entertaining to see a star of the golden era of Hollywood - in this case Van Johnson (best known - to me anyway - as The Minstrel in the Batman TeeVee show) reduced to sitting in an office chair sweating at a wooden board with broken clocks stuck to it, vainly attempting to convince us it's an airplane cockpit as ex-porn god and future Cannibal Holocaust star Kerman (dubbed it seems by Damon Albarn) stands about in an horrific shirt swearing at people.

And all to a brilliant Stelvio Cipriani's score.

True it's practically the same score as he used in Tentacles and What Have They Done to Your Daughters? but it's still a good one.

"Is it in yet?"

Veering wildly from genius to madness between - and sometimes in the middle of - scenes Concorde Affaire may be ludicrously loopy, unimaginably insane and cheaper than your mum but still has a kind of feckless charm sadly missing from modern day blockbusters.

Plus it's a damn sight more entertaining than the David Lowell Rich movie it's ripping off.

Sorry, paying homage to.

Plus I'd rather see a nearly naked James Franciscus dodging bullets on a speedboat over George Kennedy’s cum face any day.

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 108).

 Kate Elizabeth Forbes....just because I can so imagine her in a really spooky 70s style occult horror movie as a waif-like heroine taking on Satan single handed...