saxon violence.

Nightmare Beach (AKA Welcome To Spring Break, 1988).
Dir: Umberto Lenzi (or maybe Harry Kirkpatrick).
Cast: Nicolas de Toth, Sarah Buxton, Rawley Valverde, Lance Le Gault, Michael Parks, John Saxon, Ben Stotes, Kristy Lachance, Gregg Todd Davis, Yamilet Hidalgo, John Baldwin, Luis Valderrama, Fred Buck, Debra Gallagher, Turk Harley, Christina Kier and Tony Bolano.

"welcome to spring break, the annual migration of the idiot".

Welcome to the B-movie Blackpool that is Manatee Beach, Florida where badboy biker Roger 'Diablo' Whittaker (Bad Boys and 2 Fast 2 Furious 'star'  Bolano) is about to be electrocuted for the murder of the local teen Betty Tilsley.

In attendance are the towns patent bastard of a police chief Jeff Strycher (John 'my illustrious career' Saxon), town coroner and part-time alcoholic Dr. Willet (Twin Peaks Jean Renault himself Parks) and the - Very - Reverend Ralph Bates (TV stalwart Le Gault) alongside the murdered girl’s big sister, Gail (Buxton, best know as Slutty Kay in Little Children probably).

As he's dragged kicking and screaming toward 'Old Sparky' Diablo pleads that he didn’t commit the (bad) murder and that it was actually Strycher that did it and ran away but alas no-one seems to care and the switch is pulled as the greasy biker boy is executed.

But not before he promises to return from the grave and exact his revenge.


Yup, seems legit.

"Are you looking at my bra?"

But who really cares about such trivial matters when it's time for the town to transform into a hotbed of sex, booze and bubble perms for the annual Spring Break celebrations?

Not any sane scriptwriter that's for sure.

And it's at the local hotel where we first meet our hero for the next 90 minutes -  college football star Skip Tinkle (latter day film editor De Toth, who comes across like a slightly less charismatic Jai Courtney if that were possible) and his pal Ronnie Spector (Valverde, best known as Santa Barbara bad lad Amado Gonzalez) who are all set for a week of having the sex with a variety of ladies.

Unfortunately Skip is too upset to think about girls as he missed a penalty or something during his last football game meaning that everyone keeps telling him that he cost them money and that he's a bit shit.

Which if I'm honest is way more character background than we usually get so we should really be grateful.

So as Ronnie does his best (R rated) Slater from Saved By The Bell impression, Skip sits dejected in the local bar where he catches the eye of Gail, who's happy to finally meet someone who doesn't try to grab her (albeit peachy) arse whilst asking for booze.

Yup he's a proper gent.

Gail: Tuesday.

Feeling pretty pleased with himself for giving Skip such a great backstory, writer James Justice (or is it 'director' Harry Kirkpatrick under a different name?) throws caution - and logic - to the wind by introducing all manner of other backstories and sub plots including a rat-like pickpocket who’s fleecing all the students and a fright-permed practical joker who's attempts at humour involve everything from pretending to be dead in a pool to swimming around in a home-made shark suit (no, really) alongside the Reverend’s flat-faced daughter Rachael (Gallagher) who would rather get pissed and have 'the sex' with anyone who smiles in her general direction than go to church and don't forget the 'lovely' Kimberley (Kier in her only film role outside the ones her uncle made when she was a kid) who’s on a mission to find fat old (rich) men to fuck for money (this surprisingly seems to work really well) as well as the sleazy hotel clerk (resplendent with the cliched thinning hair, John Waters style mustache and loud, ill-fitting shirt, just in case you hadn't figured it out) who, when not mopping his sweaty brow spends his days spying on Kimberley and her conquests thru' a peephole in a cupboard wall.

Seriously it's like a crack-fueled episode of Crossroads just without the stench of cabbage.

Or if you prefer the reboot Freema Agyeman in a bath.

"I love jumping in muddy puddles!"

Anyway back at the actual plot, Diablo's old bike gang - the scarily monikered the Demons are pretty certain that Strycher was responsible for framing their leader and getting him executed so their new big boss man, the enigmatic Tony Dawg (Valderrama, who was actually in some other stuff but to be honest I can't be bothered typing what) decides to take revenge on not just the police but everyone in town beginning with Skip and Ronnie who they angrily accuse of parking in their spot.

No, really.

Luckily Strycher turns up saving us the embarrassment  of what would have been a really badly executed fight scene and everyone goes about their business.

Talking of executing and business, the Demons aren’t the only mad bastards on two wheels in town (and I'm not counting the pair of BMX experts that turn up and do a few stunts in the background at one point) as there's also a leather-clad mentalist on the loose whose motorcycle has a home-made electrocution device built into it and he's prowling the streets frying anyone he comes across much like they do with Mars Bars in Edinburgh.

No amusing caption, just total and utter devotion....she will be mine.

But enough random killings for now as we have to check in with Ronnie and Skip.

No change with our football fouling fella tho' as he's still sipping on a warm beer and making doe-eyes at Gail, which leaves Mr sex Machine Ronnie at a lose end.

Which I'm surprised he doesn't have already from the way his pal keeps looking at him.

Anyway deciding to go out on the ton alone, Ronnie soon comes across (not in that way tho' I'm sure she'd be used to it by now)  Diablo’s ex-girlfriend, Trina (Hidalgo, best known for playing a whore in the Eric Roberts actioner The Specialist) who invites him back to the gangs pad for a wee bit of raunchy rudeness.

Wouldn't you guess it tho' it's actually a trap and before he can even consider unsheathing his huge manhood  the rest of the gang beat the shit out of him before stealing his football medallion and leaving the poor guy battered and bleeding in a car park.

We've all been there.

But no sooner have the Demons up and left than the evil electricutor (yes I know that's not a real word but it should be) appears and kills our beaten up buddy.

To death.

Germs.

Waking up alone and with his trousers still on the right way Skip soon realises that Ronnie is missing and heads off to ask Gail if she’s seen him.

Well obviously she's seen him but I think he actually means recently.

As in the night before obviously as she's only just met them so technically she's only seen him recently.

Unless they were at school together or something and no-one has mentioned it.

But I digress.

Offering to help Skip locate his missing pal the pairs first stop is the local A and E ward where a very tipsy Dr. Willet tells them that he hasn't seen anyone of late before clumsily crashing into a cupboard and phoning Strycher to warn him that those meddling kids are investigating stuff.

Or something.

You see, unbeknown to our young friends, Mayor Loomis (Caddyshack's Buck) alongside Strycher and Willet have actually buried Ronnie’s body in the local builders yard in the hope that no-one discovers that there's a serial killer in town.

Jimbo the spawn of Beelzebub.

As he wanders the streets looking for his friend Skip bumps into Trina and quickly notices that she's wearing Ronnie’s medal and, when questioned admits that the gang beat him up a wee bit but that he was still alive when they left him.

Oh and that Diablo didn't kill Gail's sister and that someone else - maybe a town official - did it.

As Skip and Gayle investigate further even more crispy, battered bodies begin to turn up and it appears that no-one is safe from the bonkers biker.....

Poster.

When even Umberto (Nightmare City) Lenzi refuses to admit to directing a movie you just know you're in for a treat and Nightmare Beach definitely delivers something.

Just probably not what the producers were expecting.

Taking its killer biker cues from such classics as What Have They Done To Your Daughters? and Strip Nude For Your Killer, Nightmare Beach adds a smidgen of Jaws for good measure - as well as bizarrely a bit of Assault on Precinct 13 - before getting screamingly drunk and just throwing the results at the screen, sticking a Claudio Simonetti score on it (alongside some sub-Bangles shite pop obviously) and hoping something sticks.

True none of it makes any sense and the plot is even more schizophrenic than Peter Sutcliffe at Butlins but it's definitely enjoyable in it's own peculiar way.

And if only to watch the look of utter despair on John Saxon's - gravy-tanned - face as he spits reams of inane dialogue whilst thinking "Surely a new swimming pool can't cost this much?" before realising that this time round at least he hasn't had to perform cunnilingus on a hamster for spare change.

John we salute you.

And feel your pain.

Cinzia De Carolis: Less barely legal more barely human.

As for the rest of the cast, Michael Parks is all big bins and stutters as the doctor with a secret whilst Lance LeGault is so over the top as to become airbourne, ranting and raving about whores and sin whilst little bits of spit collect in the corner of his mouth.

Which is lucky as apart from Rawley Valverde - who let's be honest is actually letting his outfits act for him - the rest of the cast are stiffer than Jimmy Savile in an orphanage with Sarah Buxton's unblinking and flatly monotone portrayal of Gayle especially unnerving.

For fear of accusations of sexism I have to say that Nicolas De Toth fares no better, spending the entire film stumbling around open mouthed speaking his liners like a stroke victim who's only just rediscovered his voice.

But scariest of all is the frankly fantastic Yamilet Hidalgo, who appears to have drunkenly walked on set on the way home from a fairly debauched birthday party and just joined in after mistaking the whole thing as real.

Which is odd as not only does her voice seem to be badly dubbed but her whole body movement does too.

If you've ever had the urge to electrocute a baby dear but were too scared in case you got into trouble then fear not as watching her performance here amounts to the same thing.

Albeit just not quite as sexy.

Yamilet Hidalgo: Dirtier than your mum.

But what I hear you cry of these strange rumours regarding Umberto Lenzi not actually directing it?

Well according to the great man himself, he reckoned that he was originally hired to direct it but fell out with the producers over 'something'* but stayed on set as a courtesy in order to advice screenwriter James Justice who'd ended up with the job as everyone else had gone for a tea break.

I for one kinda believe him seeing as the finished product - which by no stretch of the imagination is in any way well made - is far from being as cack-handed as many other of Lenzi's efforts.

Plus the situation couldn't have been as bad as he made out seeing as the pair re-teamed the week after shooting was complete to make the 'classic' mutant monkey/slasher mash-up Primal Rage for the same producers.

They even invited Sarah Buxton back.

Poor cow.






























































*Lenzi's off-screen battles with various producers were as legendary as his latent misogyny and if you're in any doubt as to either just watch any documentaries regarding the making of Nightmare City where he rants uncontrollably about   his battles to complete his vision, from producer Luis Mendez refusing to let him cast a 'name' actor in the lead role of Dean Miller (Lenzi favoured either Franco Nero or Fabio Testi whereas Mendez insisted on a Mexican lead to appeal to the movies co-funders who eventually cast alleged lush and professional hairy woodsman Stiglitz) to what appears to be an imaginary 'female executive' forcing him to tone down the films many gore scenes and shadowy government types threatening violence as the script veered too close to the truth - honestly the stories are almost as entertaining as the movie.

 Almost.

chains of love.

Away whoring myself at Glasgow Horror Con this weekend so excuse the short and sweet 31 Days of Horror posts.....I'm typing any old shite and planning scheduling it to post whilst I'm away.

Like you care.

Demoni 3 (AKA Black Demons, Black Zombies. 1991)
Dir: Umberto Lenzi.
Cast: Sonia Curtis, Keith Van Hoven, Joe Balogh, Philip Murray, Juliana Teixeira, Maria Alves and some other folk I really can't be arsed listing.

"I see his bag, but I don't see Dick."

Fancying a cheap holiday (and even cheaper drugs, probably), the sexily square headed Jessica (Curtis from Days of Our Lives), her 'hunky' beau Kevin (Van Hoven who's been in everything from House of Clocks to Operation Delta Force via your mum) and her tagalong brother Dick (Balogh...bless you) decide Rio de Janeiro is the place to be seen and book themselves onto the first flight they can find in the hope of experiencing sun, sand and sex with transsexual crack whores in glittery bikinis.

Or was that just me?

Derek Griffiths helps out with the magical mouse
theatre's musical version of The Wicker Man.

Anyway being the friendly and approachable man about town that he is and within minutes of arriving, Dick somehow manages to wrangle himself an invite to a genuine Macumba ceremony from a dusky, bingo winged bucktoothed bouncy mamma (or is it Martin Laurence?) with a great line in pound shop jewellery and lips that could suck an orange thru' a tennis racquet.

Reckoning that an evening of chicken slaughtering, luscious laydees dancing topless and sweaty men playing the bongos would be preferable to sitting in between his sis and Kev in the pictures whilst hiding his cock in the bottom of the popcorn to give them a fright (again) Dick jumps at the chance, secretly taking his tape recorder to get a keepsake of the whole kerr-azee night.

Imagine the sexy bit in Angel Heart but with Lisa Bonet replaced by your Auntie Jean in blackface and your halfway there.

But who am I to judge as Dick seemed to enjoy himself and obviously made a good impression seeing as on his way back to the hotel the grizzled grannie gives him a strange (re: tacky as fuck) amulet to remember her by.

Oh, and a curse.

Swings and roundabouts really.

Aye hen.

Getting on with their holiday, our terrific trio hire a jeep and take a few days to explore the wonderful Brazilian countryside taking snapshots of undernourished weans, toothless old men and women carrying baskets on their heads (as you do), but this frankly time filling exercise is (thankfully) cut short when their jeep breaks down.

Luckily a well to do couple, Jose and Sonia just happen to be passing and offer to let the holiday makers stay at their villa.

I'm assuming it's theirs but I was out having a fag at this point so they may have just broken in....but really, who cares?

Dick however has begun to act a wee bit mental and wanders off on his own to check out the local graveyard - I say graveyard whereas in reality it's a vegetable patch with six cardboard gravestones in it - where the bodies of a group of murdered slaves lie awaiting the chance for revenge on  dem dere nasty white folks.

For a laugh Dick decides to play his recording of the Macumba ritual which, not too surprisingly awakens them from their slumber.

Who'd have guessed?

"Do you need any scissors sharpening?"

Back at the villa Kev and Jessica have been making small talk with the maid Maria (the late, great Alves), who as well as being a mean cook and cleaner is also the local towns official practitioner of Voodoo.

Which is lucky when she realizes what a dick Dick's been and offers to do all she can to protect everyone from advancing zombie horde.....

Dick.

Whilst never scaling the dizzying heights of Lenzi's masterpiece Nightmare City, Black Demons is a fairly enjoyable way to pass ninety minutes (if drunk) and, surprisingly actually has a couple of good things going for it despite the mad as a lorry Lenzi's unique (ahem) directorial style (nothing changed there then) coupled with a terrifying cast of non actors doing their damnedest to sabotage the proceedings at every opportunity.

I mean it's not often you get to see a hero so wooden that he's acted off screen by six dead black guys with ping pong balls for eyes.

And for that reason alone Black Demons is worth the price of a rental.

Curtis: May field. may not.

It's not total shite tho' as the film has one saving grace in the form of Sonia Curtis, who bravely attempts to bring at least a semblance of life to a movie that was dead before it got passed the scripting stage.
To add insult to injury Lenzi seemed to have a real axe to grind (tho' not literally fortunately) with poor Ms. Curtis, referring to her in interviews as both a mediocre actress, as well as describing her as short and unattractive.

Which is rich coming from the guy who kept Hugo Stiglitz in work (and in booze) for the majority of the eighties.

Saying that tho' he's dead now so it really doesn't matter.

 

Witherspoon? no, with a chisel.

But never fear because if like me you began to find yourself strangely drawn to this pink jumpered wonder during the duration of the movie then it's time to rejoice because surprisingly she didn't give up acting, she even made a film fairly recently when she 'played' Vera Johnson in Mark Savage's 120/80: Stressed To Kill alongside Bill Oberst Jr, Marshall Hilton and Arman Assante.
.
And if that's not enough then fear not because she's been working constantly since Black Demons with roles as diverse as that of Sondra De Salvo in Boston Strangler: The Untold Story and the tight trousered Deputy Deborah Goodrich in Relentless Justice.

Now doesn't that give you a tingly feeling inside?

super gran.

Whilst re-watching Bloody Beast for 31 days of horror recently I was reminded of a strange fact regarding my dear departed Gran.

You see, she had this quirk when it came to watching films. She'd quite happily sit thru' any number of rapes, tortures and mutilations but got really upset if (and I quote) 'a wee boy died'.

A Gran watching Sadomaster yesterday
(not mine tho', she's dead).

I remember the day when her and my Gramps had hired House By The Cemetery and Cannibal Ferox from the local 'Washvac' video shop (no longer with us I'm afraid) and settled down for a quiet Saturday afternoons film viewing.

Umberto Lenzi's trash extravaganza of breast skewering, eyeball popping, cock cutting and skull crushing went by without a hitch but as soon as mulleted moppet Giovanni Frezza appeared onscreen chatting to Silvia Collatina (aaahhh....young love!) in that Fulci masterpiece of the macabre House By The Cemetery, my Gran turned it off, commenting on how sick the director must be to cast a child in a horror film.

Do my formative years make more sense now?

Anyway, enough inane chat, time for some killings.


Cannibal Ferox (AKA Make Them Die Slowly, Woman from Deep River, 1981).
Dir: Umberto Lenzi.
Cast: Giovanni Lombardo Radice, Lorraine De Selle, Danilo Mattei, Zora Kerova, Walter Lucchini, Fiamma Maglione, Robert Kerman, John Bartha and Venantino Venantini.

Banned in 31 countries, and that's
just for using that godawful font.

Opening with the obligatory New York skyline shots (to convince the viewer that they're watching an American movie), the action soon moves to the shoddily decorated (I'm a furnishing snob, so sue me) flat of sleazy doper Mike Logan (thin haired, Italian exploitation god Radice) where his rat-like buddy Johnny, hankering for a score (as they say) has inadvertently disturbed a couple of mob heavies trashing the place looking for the hundred grand our dealer pal has stolen from them.

When Johnny junkie can’t tell them where Mike (or their cash) is, they be-suited brutes toss him out of a window.

Ouch.

Giovanni Lombardo Radice: He's got something to put in you.

Meanwhile in the Amazon, 'pretty' grad student Gloria Davis (raven haired French star of Woman's Prison Massacre, S.S. Extermination Love Camp and Return of the Saint, De Selle), her brother Rudy (the weasel faced, Milo Ventimiglia-alike Mattei) and their token blonde slut pal Pat (the petite and pert breasted yet harsh faced, almost milk bar Kerova) are driving around aimlessly (in a Jeep if details like that are important) hoping to find evidence to support Gloria’s idea that cannibalism is, in reality just a myth perpetrated to justify the exploitation of primitive cultures.

She's studying anthropology by the way and this is for her graduation thesis, it's not like she's just decided to do this for a drunken bet ALA Dave Gorman.

Tho' come to think of it that would make a great Edinburgh Fringe show if you're reading Dave.

Some emoting from the cast yesterday.

Our studious pals decide to take a break from all this anthropological jazz at the Turamazonas resort, partly to find directions to the hidden village of Manioca but mainly because Gloria is sick of shitting in a bucket.

Classy burd that she is, Pat has nasty sex with a fat, sweaty policeman in order to use his shower (from the state of her she really should be bathing in bleach tho'. Or piss) before all three head off to catch a barge so as to reach their destination.

Which in Pats case should be the nearest VD clinic.

Pat: licking piss of John Nettles.

To make the journey go a bit quicker Gloria harps on at great length about the theory behind her PHD dissertation to anyone who'll listen, but luckily doesn't stray to far from being a typical girl by screaming at insects vomiting when a local eats a butterfly for good luck.

And that's about as pleasant as the trip gets as literally within minutes of reaching dry land the heroic trio mount the kerb trying to dodge a pissed up, jay walking iguana before driving into a big puddle and finally blowing up the jeep's engine.

Rudy reckons it's time to break out the whiskey and get pissed but Gloria, being the sensible (shoed) one bullies her brother into carrying all their luggage in the direction of the nearest village.

Pat decides to stand around trying to look sultry but unfortunately just looks like a Bulldog licking piss off a nettle.

"Tin o'beans 20 pence mah friend?"

Making their way thru' undergrowth our merry band begin to notice the lush trees around them are filled with half naked natives, silently watching their every move.

Which is all well and good but distinctly lacking in the animal murder stakes.

Don't worry tho' because after making camp for the night their restless sleep is disturbed by an anaconda snacking on their pet tapir.

Finally we're in proper Italian cannibal territory. meaning with all the exploitation boxes now ticked the group can continue their journey into the jungle.

And it's not long before they stumble across a pair of (very) dead natives pinned to a tree via a crazy death trap.

This sight is even enough to cool even Pat's horny mood.

Tupac Tapir: victim of a long running feud
with The Notorious Mr. Big (snake).

As the pals stand around emoting two sweaty white guys stumble out of the undergrowth and fall at Rudy's feet (you can tell this pisses Pat off). The less sweaty one explains that they've just escaped from some hungry cannibals and that they should all run away as quickly as possible.

Which they do before suddenly stopping in a clearing by a river’s edge (a real one, not the movie) where one of the men introduces himself as Mike Logan (see how it's all tying together?...it's good that) who alongside his buddy Joe (Lucchini) have been out looking for cocaine and stuff.

No doubt all the shops in New York were shut so they've had to get a bus out to the Amazon....ain't that always the way?

Heath Ledger: the post Oscar years.

According to Mike's story, they were wandering about minding their own business when a bunch of naked, blue skinned men jumped out, ate their guide (as in tour guide, not the small girl type, tho' that would be worth seeing) and chased them off into the trees.

Pat, obviously upset by poor Mike's tale decides it'd help if she has 'the sex' with him (and if he gives her some cocaine as a thank you then even better) whilst the others cover their heads with pillows to block out the noise.

Next morning everyone awakes to discover that Gloria has wandered off (probably sick of spending every night gazing at Pat's lilly white arse bouncing up and down on a variety of rancid cocks) so they split up (great idea) to look for her.

Mike and Pat stroll off hand in hand together whilst a concerned (or is it bored? I really can't tell) Rudy and limping Joe head off further into the jungle.

It's not long before the brave boys enter the village of Manioca (you remember? the place they were going to visit....that it appears they didn't have an address for. Students eh?), deserted save for a few old geezers, a couple of corpses and, nailed to a tree, what remains of Mike and Joe's guide.

Despite Joe begging Rudy to leave, Gloria's bowl headed bro' is intent on having a wee look around, hoping to find a souvenir shop that sells sticks of rock and the like.

Wait for it............






"Eye son!"
(You're welcome).

Mike and Pat on the other hand are busy enjoying stock footage of a leopard killing a monkey before coming across Gloria alive and well but stuck at the bottom of a muddy hole with just a piglet for company.

Tho' you'd be hard pressed to tell the difference.

Mike pulls Gloria out of the hole but reckoning that this good deed goes against his anti-establishment image almost immediately jumps in himself and tortures the poor wee pig to death.

Bastard.

Rudy boy: A mooth made for shite-in in.

This act of wanton cruelty is the final straw for poor Gloria who starts stomping her feet and shouting that they should all go home before they get eaten.

Unfortunately tho', by the time she's managed to convince everyone that this would be for the best, Joe starts to feel really poorly, looking at everyone with his big puppy dog eyes he pleads with the group to stay till he's better.

Much to Gloria's chagrin they all agree.

At least Mike and Pat are happy about the whole situation, seeing as this gives them even more time to get stoned, get naked and get dirty (as you youngsters say) in the bushes as well as indulging in a bit of post shagging torture of a local native girl who happens upon then during one particularly nasty sex session.

Unluckily (for them) Her brother sees everything and heads off to tell his dad.

You can tell the tribe are angry by this news (or that the director wanted to spice up the film a bit) because that night they butcher and eat a giant tortoise (in full technicolor and in loving close up).

Yup, I reckon what this film needs at this point is a few more senseless animal killings.

cheers Mr. Lenzi.

"Didn't you kill my brother?"

Back at the village (the Indios one, not the one in The Prisoner) Joe wakes from his jungle illness just long enough to tell Rudy and Gloria the shocking truth about him and Mike.

And it's not that they're lovers.

Or even real wielders.

It seems the pair fled to South America with the cash they'd nicked in the movies opening, hoping to set themselves up as emerald prospectors (as you would).

But standing around up to their arses in cold water waggling a tea strainer for hours on end and only finding bits of beak and stone had begun to take it's strain on their relationship so the duo decided it'd be easier to just torture the whereabouts of the emeralds out of the local villagers instead.

Realizing that the reason the village is so quiet is that anybody that can carry a spear is out searching for this evil pair gives Gloria the impetus she needs to start running as quick as her little chicken legs will let her back to the boat drop off.

Pat and Mike are already one step ahead tho', having already legged it into the bushes taking all the cash, equipment and crisps with them.

After first having sex of course.

A non cursed (and non rotten)
papaya yesterday.

At this point (and because he no longer serves any purpose to the 'plot') Joe dies, leaving Rudy and Gloria to watch in horror as the returning tribes people tear him limb from limb and eat him for lunch before (wait for it) placing the curse of the rotting papaya onto the siblings.

Is there no end to this movies brutality?

At least now she doesn't have to
watch the end of this sick filth.

Tripping over a twig whilst trying to escape, Pat is pounced on by a gang of natives and dragged back to the village alongside a slightly peeved Mike.

The tribe sing and dance (badly) as Rudy, Pat and Gloria are popped into an Ikea style bamboo cage and lowered into a leech infested pond while Mike is tied to a big tree.

Not being one to stand on ceremony, big chief Brian Indios yanks down Mike’s high fashion denim flares and cuts his cock off with a bit of jagged stone before waving it about for all to see.

Then he eats it.

But not in a gay way obviously.

Not wanting to be accused of being savages the witch doctor cauterizes Mikes wound and then the entire group is led away further up river.

Mike checks out the Ryan Seacrest skullfuck hat.

Rudy, suddenly deciding he's an action hero, tries to escape but only manages to fall into a pool of piranhas before being shot with a poison dart.

Really, I don't know why he even bothered.

The surviving trio are dropped into a stinky pit whilst the natives once again eat a live animal for our viewing (dis) pleasure, this time at least it's not as cute as a tortoise.

At least he died in the name of high art, unlike Vic Morrow,
but at least John Landis didn't try
to hide his corpse by eating it.

Whilst all this scoffing of the poor Caiman (not Nick I hasten to add) and dancing is going on Mike (always the optimist) manages to claw his way out of the hole.

Killing a couple of natives for good measure, Mike heads for freedom, leaving Pat and Gloria at the of tribe but he’s quickly recaptured (well we are nearing the films climax) and tortured for his all round badness and crimes against piglets.

Firstly they lop off his (by now redundant) wanking hand before shoving him under a table with the top of his shiny balding bonce sticking thru' a hole in the top.

You can see where we're heading can't you?

Gloria and Pat can only look on in horror (well to be honest they could look away or cry but they choose to watch) as the main fella cuts off the top of Mikes head and scoops out his brain with a big wooden spoon for his pals to eat.

And before you ask yes this is indeed where Steven Spielberg got the idea for the monkey brains scene in Temple of Doom, luckily for 80s kids everywhere he must have popped out to the toilet afterwards and missed the bit where the tribe decide to pull Pat from the pit, tear her top off (and let's be honest it probably stinks of shite, blood, semen and egg by this point) and stick a pair of huge hooks thru' her breasts before leaving her hanging like a big bed sheet to die in the centre of the village.

Tho' I can't decide if this happening to Willie Scott would be more or less disturbing that the bit at the start when she sings.

Anyway whilst all this is going on a plane is flying overhead, it seems that Mike's girlfriend from back home has been worried about him and has launched a rescue mission.

Anything goes.....except forced arse banditary obviously.

Later that night whilst the tribe are sleeping off their big feast, a young Indio boy takes pity on Gloria (either that or he fancies a bit of rough), cuts her free and leads her out into the jungle. You know her escape couldn't be that easy tho' as some time later he too is killed and Gloria is left abandoned and alone in this green inferno.

Could be worse tho' she could be stuck in the fucking abysmal Eli Roth one.

Not funny but true....I found this note inside the ex-rental copy of the movie I bought.

Time passes (and the viewer starts looking at his watch hoping the film's nearly finished because he needs a wee) and the camera pans to a couple of American trappers enjoying a leisurely sail down the river.

Suddenly they hear what sounds like a woman screaming in the trees so decide to investigate.

Following the noise they find a slightly mad Gloria, crawling around half-naked in the grass, her hair greasier than normal and covered in angry boils.

Returning to civilization and spending months recovering in hospital, Gloria finally gets a bit of good news when she receives her doctorate for the (finally completed) thesis Cannibalism: End of a Myth.

See?

it at least had a happy ending.

Don't be fooled by this poster,
Zora Kerova's breasts are not this pert.

Cannibal Ferox (or Cannibal Xerox as it was amusingly called during the British video nasty era) is another in a long line of Lenzi's midly entertaining rip-offs of (then) current movie fads and whilst never as enjoyable as the utterly fantastic Nightmare City, as downright shite as Black Demons or as arse numbingly earnest as Man from Deep River, there are still a few (soiled) goodies on offer to enjoy if you look hard enough.

Famous for two things (surprisingly not the acting or direction) - eighties Italian horror whipping boy Radice's castration scene and the bit with the breast hooks, Lenzi uses the cod civilisation vs. stone age argument as an excuse for wall to wall violence and general nastiness, somehow believing himself that's he's producing some great work of art whereas anyone who's viewed the interview with the great man on the aforementioned Nightmare City disc will have to agree that he was completely off his rocker.

And how we loved him for it.

Lenzi: Fruit loops.

Good or bad?

Sleazy or super?

Who can really say?

All I know is it has pride of place on my shelf, right inbetween Anthropopagous: The Beast and Land of Death.

Which I think sums it up really.

potato!

Woke up this morning to the news that I've got to redraw a few panels of a strip I'm working on....oh and that director Umberto Lenzi had died.

And what better way to celebrate than by dedicating todays 31 days of horror to what his possibly his greatest film.

It was then I realized that I'd lent out my copy of Gatti rossi in un labirinto di vetro so it'll have to be this instead*.
Enjoy.

Nightmare City (AKA City of the Walking Dead, La Invasión De Los Zombies Atómicos, 1980).
Dir: Umberto Lenzi.
Cast: Hugo Stiglitz, Laura Trotter, Francisco Rabal, Mel Ferrer, some bouncy breasts and a few other body parts usually attached to people.

In a nameless city somewhere in 'Europe' (tho' from the state of the haircuts and trousers it looks like the West Midlands circa 1985) a terrible nuclear accident has sent the populace reeling into panic.

Bouffanted and bearded ace reporter Dean Miller (Stiglitz from Alcoholics Anonymous and that film where the boat capsizes and they eat the dog) is assigned to interview eminent scientist Otto Hagenbach (bless you) who just happens to be flying in from the accident site that very morning.

Lucky eh?

But when the plane arrives it contains not only the grey haired boffin but a cargo hold full of scum-faced tramps dressed in their grandad's old suits.

Sorry, I mean bloodthirsty, potato faced 'atomic zombies'.

'Atomic zombies' intent on murder!!

And a fair bit of tittie touching if the rest of the film is anything to go by.

"You chase me now!"

Whilst all this scary shite is going down (as you kids say) Mrs. Miller (Trotter from Only Fools and Horses) is busy making her rounds at the local hospital.

Don't worry, she works there. It's not like she's skulking about chasing ambulances.

But things are a mite strange there too as she realizes when visiting a young patient named Phil.

When our bubble haired heroine, trying to pass the time, innocently asks him "Well, how are you feeling today?"

His frankly worrying reply is "I feel like somebody who's waiting for the hatchet guy to chop off his head, doctor."

Which is nice, if delivered a little stiffly.

To make matters spookier, another patient, this time a broken legged football loving wee boy, has been having nightmares about bad men cutting his leg off.

Could this be related?

Mel (not Kim).

Well there's no time to worry about such trivialities as meanwhile at a top secret army base, military top brass Major Holmes (Rabal, all rugged with a silver quiff and a sexy sculptress girlfriend young enough to be his granddaughters fetus) and General Murchinson (Mel "I was married to Audrey Hepburn and the alimony bill is forcing me to appear in utter shite for the remainder of my career" Ferrer) are discussing the breaking emergency.

Please join us for a fantastic piece of choice dialogue as the body of one of the attackers is being examined :

Murchison (obviously reading from cue cards): Your autopsy categorically excludes an extraterrestrial being. It's molecular structure clearly establishes him as a member of the human race. A paradox when you consider what they've been doing....

Donohue (a 'scientist'): The examination of the various tissue samples that we have taken from the body reveal a high level of radioactivity, far superior to the level normally tolerated by the human organism. In addition we have found more or less recent hyper-tissue regeneration.

Murchison (bored now): Can you make that a little simpler Colonel? Some of your colleagues may not have the same technical or theoretical background...

(what? a technical background in talking bollocks? does that exist?)

Donohue (he's making it up now): In other words this individual and others like him have been subjected to strong doses of atomic radiation which increase their physical capacities beyond the norm.

Holmes (in a way only a man of a certain age can): How far beyond the norm?

Donohue (he's on a roll!): It's impossible to say. But it is a fact that these cells, subjected to almost every treatment we know, have proven to be almost indestructible.

Holmes: In short it's a kind of superman…?

Donohue (very excitedly): Much more than that… the victims of these creatures are contaminated even if they only suffer minor injuries.....

Murchison (losing the will to live): Then they can reproduce themselves… say indefinitely?

Donohue (jumping up and down waving his hands like a loon): That more or less… is correct!

I'm not saying the dialogue is bad but my computer kept crashing in an attempt to stop me typing it.

Look at it....really LOOK AT IT, it's so banal that if you concentrate hard enough the words actually appear to melt into mush before seeping into your eyes and attempting to rot your brain.

And the whole fucking film is written in this 'style'.

It's like the celluloid equivalent of a prison buggery.

Minus the biting obviously.

People died for this.

Possibly.

Anyway, still with us?

Good because after this fantastically written exchange Murchison elects to put plan 'H' into effect (no idea what's wrong with A thru' G), giving his men the unforgettable order to "Aim for the brain".

The race is now on to save humanity.

And enough cash to get Stiglitz some cheap wine after shooting finishes.

Mr. Potato Head need love!

Can Dean persuade the station heads (and their bodies too) to cancel the pop hits and bouncy tits TV show 'Dance Party' and broadcast his warning to the city and still have time to rescue his wife?

Will Sheila the sculptor survive in the coal bunker?

Will Mrs. Miller (not the cult recording star, the doctor remember?) ever stop waxing philosophically about the situation or will Dean just slap her (and slap her and slap her) until she starts crying in the horrific realization that she's surround by a cast and crew of highly disturbed sociopaths and alcoholics whose only concerns are keeping their star sober and filling the screen with as many inopportune breast shots as possible?

But most importantly will the once great Mel Ferrer have to spend his twilight years in the hell that is the Italian 'B' movie industry?

"Touch my hairy face!"

Director Umberto Lenzi's warning against the dangers of science gone mad was (according to the great man himself) based on 'true events'.

That's right! Lenzi reckons this really happened and is actually proud of this film, hailing it his 'masterpiece' comparing it's plot to that of Jonathan Demme's Philadelphia for it's portrayal of the effects disease has on the populace.

The joke was on us, we thought we were watching a cheap and cheerful zombie movie, when Lenzi has actually produced an amazingly existential docudrama that could change lives and save our planet.

His off screen battles to complete his vision are well documented, from producer Luis Mendez refusing to let him cast a 'name' actor in the lead role of Dean Miller (Lenzi favoured either Franco Nero or Fabio Testi whereas Mendez insisted on a Mexican lead to appeal to the movies co-funders who eventually cast alleged lush and professional hairy woodsman Stiglitz) to what appears to be an imaginary 'female executive' forcing him to tone down the films many gore scenes.

"Oi Umberto! NO!"

Unfortunately (for Lenzi), by his usual cinematic standards the finished film is in fact utter shite.

But for us it's one of the greatest pieces of art ever produced.

Just ask Robert Rodriguez, he allegedly based his Planet Terror on this movie and we know how great that is.

From the moment the film begins echoes of Waiting for Godot reverberate around the whole production as the imagination of the director crashes headlong into the crushing reality of the films budget with Hagenbach's arrival  celebrated by covering the screen with a crimson hue only a cheap blood substitute can supply and characters just hang around, unable to do anything but await their final indignant ends.

The rampaging 'atomic zombies' are a triumph of crap over cash, looking for all the world as if their heads have been covered in PVA glue and then dipped in a bowl of potato peelings mixed with a liberal amount of dried shite and burrowing below the surface like some sleeping beast Lenzi's latent misogynism regularly bursts forth onto the screen as female character after female character are forced to trip over, whimper and lose their tops before being killed in a variety of increasingly sexualized scenes.

Fair play to the writers tho' who even when faced with the plot screaming to a halt halfway thru' bravely carry on by having Stiglitz and Trotter run aimlessly around the countryside with no other purpose than to occasionally bump into a group of infected killers then run away again.

But not before Trotter has been given (another) bloody good slap obviously.

It's like a horror version of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead but with more arse shots.

Trotter (a doctor don't forget) persuades the hairy one that a church is the best place to hide because the virus/plague/whatever won't enter the house of God.....Much to her (but not the audiences) surprise the church is full of spud-faced loons out for blood.

 

Mulder and Scully: the pikey years.

Exciting subplots include General Merchinson trying to get his daughter to the (relative) safety of the base whilst she'd rather go camping with her fella and the silver fox that is Major Holmes attempting to save his (almost pre-teen) girlfriend.

If I'm honest then the sight of the mahogany tanned and leathery faced Francisco Rabal running his tongue over the chest of someone young enough to be his (grand) daughter is probably the most unsettling and nightmarish thing in the whole movie meaning this image (and the sight of him in a scoop-necked too tight green 'army' t-shirt proudly displaying his curvy man-breasts) will stay with you long after the film has ended.

A leathery man yesterday.

And oh boy what an ending.

After everyone else seems to have died, the Millers escaped to a seemingly deserted fairground.

Suddenly they are surrounded by the infected....Dean and Anna head for safety atop a rollercoaster (?) the bad men in hot pursuit.

A helicopter appears on the horizon lowering a ladder the pair climb to safety, only for Mrs. Miller to lose her grip (on the ladder, not reality) and plummet to her death in a kind of floppy way only a shoddily made dummy can.

Dean screams and suddenly.....

Like I'd spoil it for you.

You'll just haveta go out and buy it.

And I know you want to even if you don't you filthy whores.




































*As an aside a shorter (and considerably less childish) version of this review will be appearing in the official Weekend of The Dead convention programme this year alongside a few more quality zombie classics featured in The Undeck of which copies are still available here.

If you're attending feel free to say "Hi!" or even buy me a pint - I'm not too proud to say no.

radio daze.

Day 28 of 31 days of horror and in tribute to the podlings school Halloween party I reckoned it was time to feature some creepy kids.

OK, just one creepy kid.

And she's really not that creepy.

And only in it for about 10 minutes max.

To be honest I've not really thought this thru', I might have well said todays film features a house cos I live in one.

Ghost House (AKA La Cassa 3. 1988).
Dir: Umberto Lenzi.
Cast: Lara Wendel, Greg Scott, Mary Sellers, Ron Houck, Martin Jay, Kate Silver, Alain Smith, Kristen Fougerousse, Susan Muller and Donald O'Brian.

Who are you? What do you want? For God's sake... somebody help me... help... aarghh!

Somewhere just outside sunny Boston the pigtailed, pug nosed and prepubescent princess Henrietta Baker (Fougerousse, bless you) is celebrating her birthday by pounding her pussy to death in the cellar.

Which got my attention and, it seems the attention of her God fearing father Sam (former Interzone dwarf Smith) who fires off a few Jesus based insults at her before turning off the lights and locking her down there.

Luckily she has a (quite possibly demoniacally possessed) clown puppet for company.

Back upstairs Sam continues to rant religiously whilst his hard done to (and harsh faced) wife (Muller whom you may recall as the voice of Muriel in Cenerentola '80) just nods her head and frowns.

Michaela Strachan realizes too late that Jimmy Savile's van is not full of sweets.

Suddenly things take a change for the bizarre, firstly the dining room light bulb starts to warp before exploding, poor old Sam has an axe put thru' his skull whilst the mirror explodes leaving Mum (who if I'm honest was no great looker to begin with) with her face full of broken glass.

Don't worry tho' as help is on hand to ease her pain when an unseen assailant kindly cuts her throat.

Meanwhile in the cellar Henrietta sits hugging her clown.

"Aye hen!"

Jumping forward in time (with a wheezing, groaning sound) 20 years and the frighteningly plainly dressed Martha (Wendel best known as the sexy teen in the tiny skirt from Tenebrae and who scarily seems to turn up quite a lot on this blog) is on the phone to her boyfriend Paul (Star Wars video game voice Scott), a ham radio enthusiast cum computer programmer desperately trying to organize what time she should head round for dinner.

Exciting stuff I'm sure you'll agree.

But Paul has other things on his mind as it appears that the previous night he picked up a strange message on his radio, a mysterious voice shouting 

"Who are you? What do you want? For God's sake somebody help me!....."

followed by an ear piercing scream.

Luckily the same message is broadcast again that night allowing Paul to record it, giving him ample opportunity to discover where the broadcast came from, which by some strange quirk of fate (or storytelling) is the old Baker house from the films opening.

How weird is that?

William Roach's fancy dress outfit was a big hit at the local school Christmas party.

After picking up (and dropping off) a jive talking, satin jacketed hitch-hiker our daring duo arrive at the house to find not only a bow-legged loon named Valkos (Doctor Butcher himself, O'Brien) tending to the weeds (in between threatening folk with a spade obviously) but a radio set up in the attic.

Spooky.

It appears that this radio belongs to fellow broadcaster Jim (singer cum producer Jay, who's worked with everyone from Take That to Cockney Rebel) who along with his pals, the brassy biker chick Susan (Stage Fright and Eleven Days, Eleven Nights vixen Sellers), ginger prince Mark (Ex-cartoon chihuahua Houck from the Christopher Cazenove sitcom Ticket To Ride) and his troubled teen sister Tina (Silver, a kinda sexier, sleazier Hilary Swank with a fine line in stone wash denim) are enjoying a weekend camping out the grounds of the house.

I say camping but they're all living in a van about the size of my house parked on the front lawn, kids eh?

Kate Silver, a chin made for chiseling and a mooth made for shite-in. In.

 After explaining the whole situation Paul is confused to discover that although it sounds like Jim on the message he couldn't have sent it, seeing as he hasn't as yet set up the antennae.

 Oeerr missis.

After a few minutes collectively rubbing their chins the group comes up with a plan to try to figure out the strange radio message and, no doubt seal their fate.

Is it just me who thinks that things are going to go very bad?

Well let's see what Paul's plan involves shall we?

He decides that himself,  Susan and Martha should drive a couple of miles up the road (?) and listen for the signal from there whilst Jim, Mark and Tina split up and wander around the house in the dark.

"Guess what? I'm 15 and love Linkin Park too...now get your webcam on and your top off!"

It doesn't come as too much of a surprise when the message turns out to be some scary premonition from the future, a future where poor old Jim is downed by a ghostly fan blade, Mark is menaced by a horny looking Doberman and an already shot to fuck Tina is chased by an axe wielding Valkos.

Luckily the dog (being short sighted) mistakes a table leg for Mark giving him time to escape thru' an upstairs window and chase Valkos into the bushes just as Paul and company return.

Phew.

After following Valkos to his shed, the mental muckraker manages to overpower Mark and pin him to the wall with a pitchfork but as he goes in for the kill (or a sneaky kiss...who knows?) Paul bursts in and renders Valkos unconscious with one well placed punch to the kidneys.

And with this everyone heads back to the house to find out where Jim has gotten to, giving the gruesome gardener ample time to escape into the trees.

"Put it in me!"

Searching the house Martha finds herself in Henrietta's bedroom where after rummaging thru' an old toy box she comes across (not in that way, tho' it'd be worth a shot) the creepy clown doll from the movie's opening.

As if by magic (or wires) the room bursts into life as the clown attempts to strangle our heroine and various toys buzz around the room in a fairly slipshod manner reminiscent of a school production of Poltergeist.

Or what the actual film would have been like if Tobe Hooper had really directed it.

Paul - being the films hero - hears his girlfriends screams and arrives in time to save her from a deadly death by clown whilst the others are lucky enough to be the ones to find Jim's still warm (and oozing) corpse.

With all this death and the like going on it's not long before our motley crew decide to call the police, who turn up and tell the kids off for trespassing before blaming Jim's death on poor old Valkos who it transpires is a former mentalist who was given the groundskeeper job upon leaving the local asylum.

Well, if you skip the opening sequence and forget about the haunted radio signal and demonic clown it kind of makes sense in a Scooby Doo way I suppose.

Emu's revenge on Rod Hull was not a pleasant sight.

Bidding their farewells and heading back to Boston, Paul remains unconvinced with the police's explanation of events so sets out (much to Martha's chagrin) to discover the house's horrible history  and the relevance of the creepy clown whilst back at the house Mark, Susan and Tina are having troubles of their own.

Nightfall is approaching, the van wont start and Tina needs a poo.

Unfortunately the only working toilet is in the (ghost) house.

As Paul and Martha race back to the house with vital information regarding the haunting, Mark and his buddies find themselves trapped whilst somewhere in the bushes a vicious Valkos is determined to kill anyone who has appeared on screen for no other reason that it'd be a laugh.

Expect bloodshed and bad hair.

Released in Italy as La Casa 3 to cash in on the success of the first two Evil Dead movies (La Casa and La Casa 2 respectively), exploitation god Joe D'Amato (uncredited as producer) and director Umberto Lenzi's threadbare classic Ghost House is one of those rare movies that is as incredibly creepy as it is
entirely terrible at the same time.

Which is an amazing feat.

Coming across like a Spielberg-less Poltergeist, rewritten for a teevee budget by the producers of Scooby Doo, the movie has everything you'd expect from the lower end of late 80's Italian horror cinema; wobbly lightbulbs, ghostly girls, hideous wallpaper and seas of man-melting yogurt violently juxtaposed with a fantastically frenetic synth score, an overuse of stone wash denim and acting that veers wildly between awake (Kate Silver) and the front window of a taxidermist shop (Lara Wendel and the rest) via booze sodden madness (Donald O’Brien and his haunted leg).

A special mention must go to  Willy M. Moon whose performance as the practical joke playing backpacker Pepe is a joy to behold and worthy of his own movie.

But what makes this performance really stand out is the fact that his character has no reason to be there at all, he adds nothing to the plot apart from a fine taste in red shiny jackets and joke skeleton arms.

It's like Fat Albert turning up halfway thru' The Exorcist to perform a 10 minute stand up routine.

Actually come to think of it that would make it a much better movie.

"And I'm spent!"

Worth a look to see the house from Fulci's classic The House by the Cemetery lit badly if nothing else, Ghost House wears it's heart and it's influences proudly on it's sleeve, pity then that it's a huge pink floppy wizards sleeve belonging to that 60 something prostitute that lives on the estate you keep hearing about.

And like her it's well worth a quick visit.