half nelson.

I've always loved the movie from when I first read about it in House of Horror magazine way back in 1977.

Actually I was really jealous tho' when as a boy my bezzie mate (who will remain nameless as he'll no doubt end up getting fan mail for being so cool) went to see this in America whilst on his holidays.

Obviously the bit when the Melting Man chased the hot rod (which was exactly the same one that he'd just bought) that he excitedly acted out on the wall of the Alder Coppice First School playground ended up being cut from the UK release.*
 

Not Hogwarts.

 

The Incredible Melting Man (1977).
Dir: William Sachs.
Cast: Alex Rebar, Burr DeBenning, Myron Healey, Barack Obama, Michael Alldredge, Ann Sweeny, Rainbeaux Smith, Don Walters, Bonnie Inch, Dorothy Love, Edwin Max, Jonathan Demme (yes, that one) and the lovely Janus Blythe.

"Don't shoot! I'm Ted Nelson!"

Space: Not only the final frontier but it seems the final resting place for those movies that can only afford National Geographic style stock footage for their opening shots and in this case it's a blurry, scratched film of the sun hastily edited 'tween shots of three tinfoil-covered guys strapped into a portaloo pretending that they're orbiting Saturn.

Whilst peering out of the window and trying not to knock any of the broken egg timers cunningly disguised as scientific instruments off the MDF unit masquerading as a control console an eerie light envelopes the cockpit instantly killing two of the astronauts (to death) and seriously injuring the third.

Well it singes his porn mustache.

Back on Earth the survivor -  Colonel Steve West (Rebar from the classic Sex, Pain and Murder, Episode Two: Castration Elation and an episode of Murder, She Wrote) awakens from his slumber to find his face wrapped with toilet roll and his body covered in a snazzy pair of Bri-Nylon pajamas just like the ones your dad wears.

Even down to the stubborn brown stain on the arse and the crusty eggy bits on the crotch.

His physician, the suavely sexy Dr. Lou Loring (A young pre-Prez Barack Obama using the stage name Lisle Wilson) is at a loss to explain how West survived the journey back to Earth or why he's been given such nasty sleepwear but when it comes to the bandaged face he informs West that to cheer him up the hospital staff has styled and dyed his 'tache tho' it's best not to remove them just yet as the colour is still to set.

Sounds legit.

There's not a liberal America and a conservative America - there's the United States of America....and a melting man who lives there!"

 

After Loring leaves (he's probably off to fake a birth certificate), West leaps from his bed and excitedly tears off the dressing in order to admire his (now) funky facial fuzz.

Imagine his horror then when he gazes into the mirror to be confronted not by a cooly coiffured mustache but by the flesh on his face - and hands - melting away like a caramac bar left on a radiator.

Slightly riled by this turn of events West begins to smash up his room only stopping when a portly nurse (Inch from the directors classic Vietnam tale There Is No 13) arrives to take his temperature.

Having a thermometer shoved up his arse is the final straw for our spaced-out pal and West suddenly turns violent, chasing the nurse - in bouncy breasted slo-mo - down a corridor before chowing down on her ample thighs and escaping into the nearby woods.

"Shite in mah mooth!"

 Only being experienced in dealing with bunions and broken bones Loring calls on his scientist pal - and friend of West - Dr. Theodore "Ted" Nelson (Trash TeeVee stalwart DeBenning) for help.

Arriving at the scene in a snazzy tracksuit and armed with a handy Geiger counter, the pair soon come across (well she was fairly hot for a fat bird) the nurse's radiation wracked body and after much stroking of chins (as well as wiping their cocks on the remains of her uniform) the pair surmise that West must some how be melting due to the radioactive properties of Saturn and needs to consume human flesh to slow the process.

Which is a pretty good deduction from just looking at a chubby chicks gash.

As in the bite mark obviously.

Wanting to keep the operation low key (which is lucky seeing as the production doesn't seem to be able to afford a couple of lab coats let alone a troop of marines) Nelson contacts General Michael 'Scratch' Perry (Healey - best known as Arch Quinton in 'V'), an air force bigwig who was involved in the Saturn mission but now spends his time scoffing sandwiches at his desk.

With fuck all else to do other than slowly eat his way into oblivion Perry offers to help the search and flies out to meet Nelson.

"It's CCCCCHHHHHRRRIIISSSTTTMMMAAASSSS!!!"

Whilst we're waiting for our heroes to get their arses into gear West is busying himself causing all manner of trouble for the local populace, firstly beheading a local fisherman before turning his attentions to a group of buck-toothed pre-teens playing hide and seek.

Unfortunately the kids escape unharmed.

Realizing that the film is lacking some skin (obviously the fact that it's also lacking any good actors and a halfway decent plot isn't that important) we're suddenly introduced to the 'lovely' - if a wee bit undernourished wannabe fashion model Mavis (Ex-member of The Runaways and B movie babe Cheryl "Rainbeaux" Smith) and her sleazy photographer pal Clive (legendary porn producer/ director Walters) who is desperate to get Mavis to flash her boobs for his camera.

Anyone here aware of Smith's career wont be too surprised to find that this happens quite quickly but as she - feebly - attempts to fight of Clive's creepy advances our bony elbowed blonde trips over the fisherman's severed hand denying them (and us) any chance of some harshly lit loving.

We should be thankful for small mercies.

Steffi Graf, up the casino, Blackpool, 1985.....YESCH!

Armed with his handy Geiger counter - and a brass neck - whilst dressed in a fetching scoop-necked polyester jumper Nelson wanders the woods aimlessly pointing his high tech device at things in the hope of persuading himself that the paycheck is worth the effort but his intellectual musings are cut short when he finds West's ear stuck to a tree branch.

Meanwhile back at the other plot we're entertained by a 15 minute segment featuring FX god Rick Baker's fake fisherman head (I'm assuming it's fake) floating down a stream before falling down a waterfall and bursting like a melon whilst a crappy Bontempi score jauntily plays in the background.

With the film almost at the halfway point the director realizes that he has to get things moving so Perry finally arrives at the main plot, accompanying Nelson to the crime scene where the fisherman's body was found.

Hoping to avoid telling anyone about the mad, melty maniac stomping about the woods our dynamic duo desperately try to convince the peachy arsed Sheriff Blake Severn (Alldredge from everything you've ever seen including The Entity, Scarface and Iron Eagle. See how many others you can find.) that it was wolves what done it but he suspects that Nelson is lying.

Torn between telling the truth or continuing with his frankly shite lies Nelson heads home to berate his pregnant, straw haired wife Judy (M.A.S.H's Nurse Carrie Donovan herself Sweeny - no me neither) for not buying any cream crackers.

No really.

His hopes of a nice cheeseboard feast dashed Nelson's evening goes from bad to worse when Judy informs him that her whorish mother Helen (Love from Caged Heat and your Granddad's darkest dreams) and her 'boyfriend' Harold (Max who once guest starred on the radio drama Nightbeat with Frank Lovejoy fact fans) are coming over for dinner and the promise of a foursome.

Luckily on their way the pair are cruelly murdered by West.

Which may sound a wee bit harsh but anything that puts paid to their frankly arse destroying 'comedy' car antics is a blessing.

The Ronko Wankotron 2000 proved a hit with Jessica Tandy.

Off out looking for whores to murder Blake soon discovers the couples abandoned car and half-chewed bodies, quickly calling Nelson to come and identify them.

Poking about in Helen's innards Nelson quickly surmises that West is somehow getting stronger the more his body melts.

"Then he is surely an incredible melting man" Blake doesn't exclaim.

Back at Nelson's house, Judy has gone to bed leaving an - ever - peckish Perry to raid the fridge giving the director ample opportunity to share a horrendous amount of close-ups of the fat faced fucker greasily stuffing his face with chicken wings and pork sausages as congealed lumps of fat and gristle collect in the corners of his toilet-like mouth.

Beautiful.
His gluttonous gastronomic gobblings are cut short tho' when West turns up unexpectedly and brutally slays Perry before stealing a bag of frozen peas and disappearing into the night.
Realizing that (an incredible melting) man cannot live on frozen peas alone, West breaks into the nearby home of newlyweds Terry and June  (director Demme and owner of the world's peachiest arse and smoothest of smooth thighs Blythe from The Hills Have Eyes and Eaten Alive) in the hope of finding some potatoes and maybe a small portion of fish.

Or a little bit of chicken in a box.

"Put it in me!"

Unfortunately West's search for scran is disturbed by the couple returning home and our space-fairing freak responds in the only way he knows how - by bludgeoning Terry to death this a tube of Pringles before menacing poor June thru' a broken kitchen door.

June is made of sterner stuff than her hubbie tho' and viciously slices West's arm off with a kitchen knife before sliding sexily around he goo covered lino and phoning Blake for help.

Thank you Ms Blythe for bringing some much needed eroticism to the proceedings.

Following the ever stronger radioactive trail left by West the pair soon arrive at the local power plant to find West on the roof trying to build a makeshift hammock out of the electrical cables.

All that killing must be hard work.

Nelson and Blake soon realize that if West harnesses the plant's electrical power he will become invincible.

Will our heroes defeat the sticky space slasher?

And will the director cut back to Janus Blythe who by this point is (hopefully) taking a long, lingering shower to clean all that fake blood and goo from her smooth, lily white skin?

 

From William Sachs - more famous for playing Manuel in Fawlty Towers (probably) and the man who gave us Galaxina and Spooky House (but not alas the man who gave your mum the clap - that was your uncle George) - comes a movie that takes all the best bits of  The Night of the Living Dead, First Man into Space and The Quatermass Xperiment (amongst others) and mixes them into a threadbare 50's throwback thriller of inane dialogue, poverty row production values, one note performances and a tone that veers wildly from exploitation shocker to TeeVee sitcom farce like a drunken man trying to find his way home after a particularly heavy session.

And that's just how it makes the audience feel.  

Bizarrely enough Sachs original screenplay was written as a parody of a typical sci-fi horror shocker but producer Samuel W. Gelfman - allegedly - cut most of the comedic elements before adding more scenes of gore and gruesomeness (thanks to a young Rick Baker) during editing claiming that a 'straight horror film' would make more cash.

On viewing you have to ask that if this is the movie with the comedy completely removed then what the fuck did they deem to funny to keep?

I mean the whole endeavor comes across like some sub-Crackerjack version of Torchwood.

Which actually means exactly like a normal episode if you think about it. 

If only Saddam had thought to wave the white flag rather than snort it maybe ISIS wouldn't exist.

The scariest thing about it tho' was the fact that the film actually became a massive commercial hit - thanks mainly to Baker's aforementioned makeup effects tho' critics unanimously derided it for being utter shite.

To a modern cinema-going audience this may seem true but let's be honest here - given the choice I'd rather spend 90 minutes in the company of creepy Colonel Steve than with the angsty as fuck Camille Sullivan in Shelby Oaks or whatever else pashes for cutting edge horror these days.

The perfect Friday night film and screaming out for a midnight showing alongside Contamination.

Which may sound like damning with faint praise but heyho.

So any brave cinema's up for it?

Answers to the normal email address.














































*Tho' there's a chance he may have been lying - tho' not as much as Andrew Colley who told us all he'd seen Return of The Jedi in America and that during the film's climax Darth Vader gained robot wings and chased Luke around the still under construction Death Star interior whilst it was revealed that Boba Fett was Han Solo's evil twin brother.

chilly con carnies.

 

Remembering when this beauty came out on DVD from the Arrow films years ago and my vain attempts to blag a copy for review purposes were all for nowt.

As was my attempt to get some new (any) readers.

Anyway, noticed that this review had been looked at a grand total of about 8 times in 8 years so thought I'd rejig and repost it seeing as it appears no-one is actually reading the whole 31 days of horror thing anyway.

And if you are reading it no-one has told me.

Anyway enjoy.

Malatesta's Carnival of Blood (1973).
Dir: Christopher Speeth
Cast: Herve Villechaize, Bill Preston, Daniel Dietrich, William Preston, Lenny Baker, Paul Hostetler, Betsy Henn, Jerome Dempsey, Chris Thomas, Karen Salmansohn and Janine Carazo.

You'll Shriek With Horror! ... As You Watch His Victims Take a Diabolical Roller-Coaster Ride to Bloody Death! - Brexit in a nutshell.

Somewhere and sometime in the evilly dressed early seventies, teen bombsite - sorry bombshell - Vena Norris (Carazo, looking like a chubby Suzi Quatro - which isn't necessarily a bad thing - in her only film role) is busy having her fortune told by the cross-dressing Jewish gypsy Sonia (1977 Tony Award winner Baker in a character combination that's more than likely to get me and this blog cancelled these days) at his stall in the famous Malatesta Carnival (of blood obviously)  whilst her parents, Frank (An Innocent Love's Hostetler, looking for all the world like an even more down at heel - but pre-death obviously - Tobe Hooper) and Noreen (Henn), are being shown around the site by the Mr Barry Blood (teevee stalwart and ex partner of Makepeace, Dempsey), sideshow owner and part-time recluse cum Malatesta’s enigmatic business manager.

"You're my wife now!"

It appears that the Norris family are opening a shooting gallery at the carnival and Vena is naughtily wasting time chatting to mind-bending transvestites rather than doing what she's been asked to - which is be set up the stall - but when she finally decides to get to work wouldn't you know it she gets distracted again, this time by the guy who runs the tunnel of love, a studly young buck named Kit (writer of the fantastic P. Diddy Presents the Bad Boys of Comedy Thomas) who slinks over to 'get to know' our pretty heroine.

Easy tiger.

His smooth moves are rudely interrupted tho' when the Ferris Wheel running Davis clan, complete with harsh faced obnoxious daughter 'Toby' (Salmansohn, latter day Hollywood story consultant and best selling self-help book author) turn up to say hello.

In between Toby's ear piercing whining regarding rubber chickens that is.

Hoping to placate Toby and get rid of mom and dad for a few minutes Kit offers them a free ride on the tunnel of love.

A ride from which none of them return.

In fact all Kit finds are Pa Davis’ shattered and blood stained spectacles.

A lovely firm tummy and milky white thighs you could ski down...and that's just the fella.

That night in the Norris family trailer, Ma and Pa are busy entertaining Mr Blood, whom we discover, was once told by 'doctors' that due to his unusual metabolism he had less than six months to live but thanks to a special diet he's managed not only to defy the Doc's expectations but learn how to look good in a cape.

By good I mean really fucking sinister obviously.

Even later - it's all go isn't it? - Kit and Vena meet up near 'The Ghouls Eye' (which I'm assuming is a ride and not a reference to the carnival cleaners unfortunate ocular problem) for a chat and stuff whilst elsewhere in the deserted carnival two checked shirt wearing drunk types (let's call them Pete and Pete) are stumbling around the empty stalls looking for a ride on the roller-coaster.

Each to their own I guess.

Luckily the ride just happens to be open and Pete jumps at the chance for a shot, unfortunately half way round he's decapitated by some hidden cheese wire  causing the other Pete to start screaming like a baby.

Annoyed at all the noise Mr Blood orders the aforementioned bog eyed cleaner, Sticker (Oldie Olson from Late Night with Conan O'Brien, Preston) to stab him to death with his pointy rubbish collecting stick before carrying the body off to a secret blood siphoning facility hidden beneath the carnival where a number of ashen faced freaks gorge themselves on Pete's still warm flesh.

"Eye son!"

It's round about this point that Vena and Kit begin to suspect that there may be something slightly odd happening at the carnival.

Cue a heady mix of surreal dream sequences, top quality chases and extended scenes of a possibly bra-less Vena jogging thru' a park in slow motion.

Oh yes and a gun obsessed dwarf named Bobo (the late, great Villechaize) spouting all manner of sinister bollocks whilst the grey faced flesh eaters sit about enjoying grainy copies of the best of Universals silent back catalogue.

No, really.

John Carpenter, up the casino, New York, 1997.....YESCH!!

 

 

 

However just when you think you got your head round the whole reality/fantasy/drug induced dream stuff you realise that Vena has indeed been out running all night and yes, she actually isn't wearing a bra but don't worry because just as the movies already stretched view of realism looks like it's going to snap like so much cheap knicker elastic the grey faced flesh eating tramps suddenly attack the Norris' trailer leaving big panted dad to fight them off with a spud gun.

Two puppies fighting in a sack yesterday.

 

Returning to the carnival and oblivious to all that's going on around her Vena is fairly surprised to find poor Kit impaled on a large  paper mache clown causing her to scream apathetically and run off into the carnival catacombs with Sticker in wobbly pursuit.

Meanwhile back at the trailer, Pa Norris has not only vowed revenge on somebody but also decided that the best means of escape would be to blow up the trailer and run away in the confusion.

His wife however isn't convinced.

Cue offscreen explosion and a prolonged chase around the various stalls as more and more of the strange underground cannibal spew forth into the park....

MMMMOOOOOOSSSSHHHHHHIIIIII!!!!

Will the Norris family survive the oncoming cannibal apocalypse?

What hideous plans do Blood and Malatesta have for the perky Vena?

And where will her boyfriend Johnny stay when he arrives the next morning now that the Norris' camper van has burnt down?

Fantastically plotted, linear and expensive are just a few of the words you wouldn't use to describe Christopher Speeth's little seen horror oddity, lost in his spare room for decades and only let loose on an unsuspecting public decades later.

But then that might not be a bad thing when you realise that you'll end up describing it as one of the surrealist and most terrifying movies of all time.

And that's just Bill Preston.

Malatesta's Carnival of Blood is quite possibly one of (if not the) greatest horror movies to come out of the 70's, playing out like a big screen version of the worst acid trip you've ever experienced, it's dream logic and total lack of regard for the rules of cinema (and good taste) will leave you boggle eyed and shaking like a baby on a window ledge with it's heady mix of cannibals, vampires, inflatable sets and little people but the icing on an already sickly sweet cake are the performances from the leads.

Taking the concept of 'non-acting' to new heights, everyone on screen appears to be playing to an unseen audience, almost unaware of the other actors around them.

Genius Mr Speeth, true genius.

Groundbreaking and unique, this is the kind of film this blog lives for.

And so should you.

Beg, borrow, steal or even sell your entire dvd collection to pay* for a copy because you need this.

Badly.

And I need a cold shower.

Gah.












































*Not brand new obviously just go to the big CEX in Renfield Street, they have it in for 2 quid.

burqa and hair (raising).

Day 29 of 31 days of horror and it's a look back at a classic.

Yes, occasionally I do watch good films.

It's a pity then that no fucker ever pays attention when I rave about them.

But not this time.

You've had 18 (!) years to catch up with this so if you haven't seen it already I'm giving you till then end of the week.

Go on, buy it now.

You'll thank me in the morning.

Zibahkhana (AKA Slaughterhouse, Hell's Ground. 2007)
Dir: Omar Ali Khan.
Cast: Kunwar Ali Roshan, Rooshanie Ejaz, Rubya Chaudhry, Haider Raza, Osman Khalid Butt, Najma Malik, Sultan Billa, Salim Meraj and Rehan.

You are on the road to Hell, my children.
On the road to Hell!

Newsflash!

Pakistan's biggest dance festival is about to start and wouldn't you know it, it's gonna be taking place on a school night!

Isn't it always the way?

But if you think that's going to stop our motley band of Islamabad based teens having a wild night of music, mental dancing and muddy boots then you've got another thing coming.

Living, breathing Bratz doll Roxy (big haired bad girl Chaudhry) has it all planned, her buddies are going to sneak away in a colourful van and tell their respective parents that they're studying at each others houses.

What could possibly go wrong?

Accompanying her to the groove-some (as opposed to gruesome) fest are drugged up horror geek Vicky (Roshan), binman's son Simon (the Pakistani Daniel Radcliffe Raza) and the sweetly sexy to a point of almost being librarian-esque (as only good girls can be) Ayesha (Ejaz) alongside designated driver and token older guy OJ (Butt).

So, who's your cash on surviving to the final reel then?

Ejaz: scrumptious.

After a few coffees (and an encounter with some scarily saucy transvestite hookers) our merry band head off toward their dance-tastic destination, stopping only to visit Deewana's world famous tea shop.

What do you mean you've never heard of it?

A sign of spooky things to come occurs when Vicky is convinced that the Bruce Willis vested Deewana is actually the cult actor and star of the utterly fantastic The Living Corpse (AKA Dracula in Pakistan) Rehan, although the creepily hairy backed tea legend angrily denies this.

You see he's more interested in why such good Muslim kids aren't preparing for evening prayer.

Freaked out by all this talk of praying and curses our heroes grab some tea and buns before making their excuses and leaving.

"Spice Girls number one for Christmas? MONSTA!"

Could things get any worse?

Well after all that tea and cake poor Vicky seems to have developed a dodgy tummy and begs his buds to pull over so he can go vomit in a lake (as one would) but even before he's managed to wipe away the shame from the corners of his mouth he's attacked and bitten by a crazed, green skinned tramp.

Who also steals his stash.

Thieving undead bastard.

Simon, being the heroic type, offers to go search for the drugs (and the scary knee biting pikey) whilst Vicky sits huddled in a corner sweating and rubbing his leg in the hope of getting some female attention.

Bless.

Who's sari now?

Don't get too concerned tho' because Simon soon returns with the drugs (and in one piece) and, after a wee bit of shall we shan't we? the gang decide it's probably for the best if they just carry on toward the festival and hope one of the first aiders has a plaster and a junior aspirin for Vicky victim when they get there.

This is actually surprisingly sensible and everything would have turned out fine if OJ hadn't taken a wrong turn when hurriedly leaving Deewana's tea shop.

Wouldn't you know it the gang end up lost.

In the woods.

Surrounded by the living dead.

There's only one course of action left to our heroes and that's to sit in the van and scream like wee girls as the zombies excitedly devour the contents of an abattoir bin next to the road.

Luckily OJ remembers that they're in a van not a shed, and drives away before the zombies can attack, or at the very least scratch the paintwork.

What a guy.

After driving what seems for hours and needing something to break the monotony of Vicky's vomiting and the girls screaming, the - by this point not so - merry band pull over at a big tent in the middle of nowhere in the hope of getting directions to the festival and maybe a few bottles of Lucozade to keep them going.

Have they never seen Bio-Zombie?

Obviously not, nor the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre by the looks of things seeing as they happily offer a lift to a mad as a bag of spanners bearded type named Bill Baley (Meraj, being scarily more like Bill Moseley than Moseley himself) who, after squatting on the floor of the van and demanding water starts shouting "I will drink the blood from your veins!" before pulling a severed head out of his man-bag.

Reacting with a mix of utter pant wetting terror and a wee bit of mild embarrassment the group scream at the horrible hobo for a while before kicking him out the van and running him down like a dog.

Which is a little extreme methinks.

"Laugh now!"

Waiting till the screaming has died down Ayesha suggests that maybe, just maybe they should give the festival a miss a head home.

Roxy (who it must be said has spent about three days troweling on her make-up in preparation for the event) is adamant that the show must go on, only changing her mind when she accidentally sits on the severed head left on the seat by the late lamented Baley.

It seems obvious to me that he only left it there because it too wanted to attend the music fest but had no body to go with.

Sorry.

Like a whippet up a particularly greasy drainpipe Roxy jumps out of the van and legs it into the woods whilst everyone else starts screaming again.

The screaming continues for about ten minutes, with everyone in the van desperately trying to be considerably louder than their pals.

Unfortunately when the screaming finally stops and the merry band almost collapse thru' lack of oxygen no-one has the faintest idea where Roxy has gone.

Ayesha and Simon, being the clean living heroic types give chase.

OJ volunteers to sit in the van with a considerably greener and more zombie-like by the minute Vicky in case they need to make a quick getaway.

What a guy!

"Oooh....who fancies a wee
bit a mooth shite-in?"

Stumbling blindly thru' the woods, our dynamic duo come across a ramshackle house and, hoping to get help bang on the doors whilst, yes, screaming.

After a few minutes of banging and screaming (and reckoning that their day can't get any worse) Simon and Ayesha slowly enter the house hoping to find a nice old lady with a phone that they can use.

It comes as no surprise to us (but a bloody big shock to the two friends) when stomping out of the kitchen comes a giant, burqa-wearing beast of a bloke brandishing a huge spiked ball on a chain.

A wee bit of a chase ensues culminating with poor Simon getting spiked in the face.

And yes, before you say anything I am aware (as is Ayesha, who seems to find this the most shocking thing so far) that men don't usually wear burqa's.

But I for one wouldn't say anything to him about it.

Meow. Twice.

Meanwhile Roxy, all messy hair, smudged make-up and tearful of cheek (but still nowhere near as hot as Ayesha - which I really shouldn't dwell on seeing as Ms. Ejaz reads this blog) has been found by a sweet old lady who lives in a tent just up the road from all the carnage.

And not only that but this old dear has tea and toast!

As a minus point tho' she does have her dead hubbies corpse in a cupboard and pictures of her two sons plastered around the walls.

One of whom seems to enjoy wearing a burqa....

No, it couldn't be...

Could it?

Taller than Freddie, sexier than Jason and
far easier to dress as than either one of them.
Raise your glass for the Burqa Baby!

From the deranged mind of Islamabad Ice cream shop magnate Omar Khan comes what is quite possibly the best lo-fi horror movie of the past 20 years if not the most fun ninety minutes I've spent with a teen killing mentalist for quite some time.

The surprising thing is that, on paper Hell's Ground should be little more than a run of the mill Texas Chainsaw rip off but it's kudos to Khan and his team that it's so much more than that, being at once an incredibly funny pastiche and an honest to goodness homage to the stalk and slash genre he obviously loves so much.

And just when you think it can't get any better cult movie king Rehan turns up.

From the pre-credit sequence onwards you know you're viewing something extra special and it's this love and understanding of the genres conventions that soaks (bloodily) thru' every single frame and every performance on show, the cast are uniformly fantastic, with special mention to the classically creepy Salim Meraj.

Honestly his performance is so convincing you can actually smell the urine and stale sweat thru' the teevee - God help you if you're watching in Blu-Ray.

And I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that the elfin Rooshanie Ejaz could quite possibly have stolen Bruce Campbell's crown (and heart) as the ultimate horror hero had she not retired from movies and gone on to be a science type bigwig.

If nothing else she looks much sexier than the big chinned one when drenched in blood.

Sorry Bruce.

Frankly essential viewing and an essential costume come Halloween.

Still no word of a sequel mind, even tho' I sent the film makers a top notch script featuring Burqa Baby battling an army of ancient Jinns.

Typical.

golden oldie.

 

Day 21 of 31 days of horror and we're off to France (which is in Europe, near London for our American readers) for probably one of the greatest old folk featuring films ever.

Apologies for the shortness of the review but I've got stuff to do today.

Plus I really need the toilet.

So without further ado, laydees and gents I give you....

La Nuit de la Mort (AKA Night of Death! 1980).
Dir: Raphaël Delpard
Cast: Isabelle Goguey, Charlotte de Turckheim, Betty Beckers, Michel Debrane and Ernest Menzer.

 “What could go on in a place like this?”

Luscious librarian type Martine (the copper topped, slinky hipped Euro-tottie Goguey, last seen in Paradigma) has just gotten a new job at a local old folks home, the not at all creepily named Deadlock House caring for - and occasionally cuddling - the elderly residents.

Arriving a day early, much to the chagrin of the home's director - the frighteningly efficient Hélène (the magnificent Beckers, all French fancy and no knickers, probably) - Martine is quickly introduced to the carer she's replacing, the leggy blonde Nicole (de Turckheim) who is understandably peeved that she's getting replaced without being consulted as well as to the hulking, wooden of legged and bowl of haired handyman Jules (Debrane) before being sent off to the attic to unpack her bags.

In the meantime it seems that bossy bitch Hélène has warmed to the thought of having Martine there a day or so early because it means she can put her to work without having to pay her.

Well, that's the French for you....and they wonder why Britain chose Brexit. 

Martine slowly parted Hélène's beefy curtains...

Joining Nicole on her rounds, our ginger princess is finally introduced to the residents, of which every single one appears to be an egg and cress sandwich short of a picnic basket.

Whilst all this lady-based cuddling and cuppa business is going on poor Jules just stands in the background lusting quietly after Nicole whilst rubbing his thighs and trying to hide the smell of warm milk emanating from his crotch area.

Yup, most definitely French.

Apparently taking a shine to her new employee and impressed with her work, Hélène offers Martine the night off to spend with her boyfriend before starting the job good and proper, which is nice because the rules say that she wont be allowed out for at least twenty eight days after her contract starts.

But that later that very night, whilst Martine is doing the dirty in the back of her beau's Fiat Uno, Nicole is dragged from her bed in the middle of night by the ancient, turkey necked residents who, after stripping her naked tie her down to a picnic table and gut her before finally eating her whole.

Tho' they may have spat that bit out.

Aye Son!

With grass in her hair, egg in her pants and mud on her knees, Martine returns to the house the next morning and is surprised to find Nicole (and her collection of seventies cocktail dresses) gone, the result of a blazing argument over Nicole being prettier than her according to Director Hélène.

Thinking nothing of it, our red headed raver gets on with her chores, closely watched by jittery Jules in-between his daily burnings of mysterious bags of ladies clothes and whipping the residents.

As the days go by Jules it seems is becoming more and more obsessed with marrying our heroine (just as he was with Nicole), the old folk have taken to forcing Martine to drink what looks like fresh vomit at meal times and she's found the burnt remains of Nicole's suitcase behind the bins.

Suffice to say Martine (although not the brightest tool in the box) is by now beginning to suspect that there's more to Nicole's disappearance - and the batty old folk - than meets the eye and decides in her best Nancy Drew fashion (tho' not fashions which is a shame) to investigate.

""Can you smell petrol?"

As the clues keep a coming and the kooky crinklies get more crazy, Martine begins to understand the true meaning behind the bizarre lunch ritual that the potty pensioners partake in on a daily basis and discovers just why they're all so concerned about her weight.

And if that wasn't enough, there's also the little problem of the town's resident murdering mentalist, nicknamed The Golden Needle Killer for Martine to deal with,  as well as the most important thing in her life; deciding what film to go and see at the cinema with the local milkman on her next day off.

"It's CCCCCHHHRRRRIIISSSTTTMMMAAASSS!!!!"

Coming across like a bizarre French adaptation of an unmade Pete Walker script, writer/director (and sometime actor) Raphaël Delpard's little seen La Nuit de la Mort is one of the creepiest, blackest (in both humour and atmosphere) films to come out of the early eighties and a surprising departure from what's normally associated with the French horror genre.

Imagine The House of Whipcord spliced together with bits of Rosemary's Baby and populated by an entire cast of Ruth Gordon's and your halfway to understanding the sheer genius of this movie, played just the right side of camp by all involved and directed in a pleasant, surprising non fussy style by Monsieur
Delpard.

Whilst there may be no real surprises in the plot, it's the sheer creepiness of both the characters and overall atmosphere of the movie that makes it so great.

Your dad's custard cousins yesterday.

And what characters!

From the brilliant Betty Beckers as the delightfully evil Hélène to the flame headed floosie that is Isabelle Goguey via Michel Debrane's jizz-stained Jules and the entire cadre of oldies everyone is perfectly presented in such a playfully perverse manner that you can't help but become involved in the whole sordid story.

For once a film that is totally and non-ironically highly recommended.

chicken run.

Seeing as I've read recently that somebody has bought the rights to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in an attempt to reboot/reinvigorate the franchise (sorry can't remember who and I can't be arsed checking...do you think this is a real film blog or something?) I reckoned it'd be good to revisit this classic.

To be honest I was gonna give the Netflix version another go but that's too shite even for this blog.

 

Anyway enjoy. 

 

 

To be honest "Laugh Now" is way too obvious a caption.

 

 

 

 

Leatherface (2017).
Dir: Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo.
Cast:  Stephen Dorff, Vanessa Grasse, Sam Strike, Lili Taylor, Finn Jones, James Bloor, Jessica Madsen, Sam Coleman and Julian Kosto.

Surely it should say the origin of Leatherface seeing as the origin of TCM is actually the film? Just saying.

Deep in the heart of Texas (played quite convincingly - surprisingly enough - by a small Bulgarian town) on the Sawyer homestead, mucky-faced mentalist matriarch Verna Sawyer (Lili - "The school fees are how much?" - Taylor) is busy organizing a birthday party for her youngest son/nephew/brother Jedidiah.

And what is the little tyke getting for his birthday?

Well the chance to slaughter a local hick they found wandering around the farm who it seems was attempting to steal a pig.

Presenting Jedidiah with a chainsaw the family cheer on the boy as he slowly (well he only has tiny legs) approaches the prone pig puller.

Being a sweet caring child tho' Jedidiah refuses, preferring to finish his cake leaving grandpa to finish the job with his trusty hammer.

Teeth.

Jump forward to 1955 where sweet young things Betty Hartman (the Converse-clad, button nosed pixie like Grasse) and Ted - hey fanboys here's a reference for you - Hardesty (Kosto) are happily driving down a country road when they come across (not in that way even tho' he's on all fours with his peachy arse sticking in the air) little Jedidiah clad only in a pair of soiled undies and a cow head.

No really.

Betty, being a nice girl (and obvious victim fodder, no one that cute could possibly survive that long in a horror movie) follows the wee fella to a dilapidated old barn where the rest of the Sawyer family are in hiding ready to drop a tractor engine on her head.

Unfortunately for them her father is not only the mad as a bag of spanners local Sheriff but also played by the frankly marvelous Stephen ("She's bleeding me dry with this divorce settlement!") Dorff who reacts by angrily shouting at everyone before taking little Jedidiah into custody and carting him off to the Gorman House Youth Reform School for 'his own safety'.

It's like a slightly more violent episode of The Archers really.

"Milk it."

With the backstory out of the way it's time to start the movie good and proper as we (quantum) leap ten years into the future where the recently-hired nurse Elizabeth White (It Came From The Desert star Grasse) is spending her first day at work bonding with the patients.

As opposed to abusing them ala One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest because no cliché works quite like an old cliché.

And just to show how nice she really is she stands up for the misunderstood and incredibly broody Jackson (Strike) when he steps in to stop the hulking monosyllabic Bud (ex Doctor Who companion Coleman) getting into trouble for fighting with the buck-toothed badboy Ike (Bloor who scarily looks like a living breathing human/Daffy Duck hybrid and so by default is the scariest thing in the film).

Grasse modeling the incredibly authentic 1960s nurses uniform she wears in the film...or is it in your dads bed?

Things are about to take a turn for the worse tho' as no sooner has our heroine calmed everyone down when Verna turns up with an injunction to allow her to see her son.

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on if you want to watch a horror movie or a courtroom drama) the creepy head of the hospital Doctor Shanga Lang (Adamson who's been in loads of stuff including your auntie and your mum. Twice) tells her to fuck off adding that she couldn't see him even if they wanted her to seeing as they've changed Jedidiah's name to something else because it wouldn't fit on the name labels in his vest and what do you know the file with his new name has fallen down the back of the sofa.

Taking matters into her own (very delicate) hands the mentalist mum inadvertently causes a riot whilst searching for her boy allowing Ike and his burned boobed girlfriend Clarice (mother of Reservoir Dogs star Micheal, Jessica Madsen) to kidnap Elizabeth - along with Bud and Jackson - and steal a car in an attempt to flee to Mexico.

Moonhead.

As the group travel between rest stop diners and deserted caravans via various murder sprees, country roads and bloodbaths, Sheriff Hartman discovers that one of the group is actually Jedidiah so alongside his Deputy Nancy Sorells (Former Game of Thrones homosexualist, nephew of Doctor Who companion Jo Grant and Iron Fist himself Jones) heads off in hot pursuit.

Realizing that they've hit the halfway point with nary a hint of sleazy sex-based shenanigans our merry band of bonkers buddies take refuge in a rundown mobile home, abandoned save for the hanging putrefying corpse of its former owner, which not only supplies us with a cheap jump scare but gives Ike an excuse to whoop and giggles a lot whilst Clarice strips naked to reveal what a good job the make up department have done on her burn scars (and also show off the frankly magnificent fake nipples she's sporting) before the pair - unsurprisingly - engage in a necrophiliac threeway in an attempt to remind us just how down right bad they really are but only manages to make the viewer pine for the wonderful Beatrice Manowski in Nekromantik.

Tho' to be honest I never really need an excuse to do that.

Beatrice Manowski: Don't try this at home, again.

As the gruesome twosome sleep off their sexy hi-jinks Elizabeth makes a break for the woods only to be very quickly grabbed by a by now awake Ike who, after making some lewd suggestions decides to pick on Bud instead.

This not only saves Elizabeth from a brutal bumming but riles Bud up enough to stomp on Ike's head before falling asleep on his corpse.

Which is nice.

The next morning, Clarice notices that Ike is missing (she's observant like that) and heads off to find him leaving Jackson and Elizabeth to find Bud and wake him up before quickly running away.

Which is what I would love to do at this point if I'm honest, I mean I'm only sticking around to see if Lili Taylor turns up again - I've not been the same since I saw her in I Shot Andy Warhol well I'm only flesh and blood plus 'tween her and Dorff it's like a veritable reunion.

Taylor: Swift kick to the head.

It's not long tho' before crusty Clarice is apprehended by an ever more angry Hartman who in a fit of pique shoots her in the head as Bud, Jackson and Elizabeth watch from their hiding place inside a dead cow.

No.

Really.

Crawling out of the poor beasts arse our plucky trio make their way toward the highway where Elizabeth attempts to get the attention of a passing policeman who - as they are known to do in The States - responds by shooting Bud in the head.

This sends an understandably jittery Jackson into a violent rage culminating in him shutting the poor policeman's head in the car door whilst pinching his nipples before stealing the by now very messy motor and flooring it.

But Hartman is in hot pursuit.

www.nofuckingneed.com/yourmumsbestgoingoutclothes

In a chase scene the like of which hasn't been seen since the episode of Father Ted with the milk float, Hartman soon catches up with the daring duo, opening fire on the car and shooting Jackson in the mouth (which lets be honest is better than him shite-ing in it) causing a rather nasty crash.

And a wee bit of chafing.

As time passes and the screen fades thru black Elizabeth suddenly wakes to find herself handcuffed to the backdoor of Hartman's car.

We've all been there.

The silence is broken by Sorells on the radio (as in the police radio - he's not crooning a song on pick of the pops or anything) and Elizabeth manages to grab the mic with her feet and call for help but unbeknown to our heroine Sorells is in the pay of Verna, heading out to her homestead to  reveal her - and Hartman's - whereabouts.

It appears that Jackson is, in fact, Jedidiah and the crazy copper has him trussed up in the same barn his daughter was killed in.

Pausing only to feed Sorells to some pigs she gathers her family and heads over to the barn for a final confrontation with Hartman.

FOLD ME? - must not be just the plot that's paper thin then.

With Elizabeth trussed up like a Christmas turkey (albeit a turkey with wonderfully milky white thighs you could ski down) and an injured Jackson lying in a pool of his own piss moaning like your mum at the works end of year do Hartman stands legs akimbo with a shotgun in his hand goading the family to attack.

Which they do and with there being five of them they soon overpower the Sheriff and take him back to their house for tea, crumpets and a wee bit of chainsaw chopping courtesy of the by now shot to fuck - and flappy faced - Jackson/ Jedidiah.

In the confusion Elizabeth breaks free of her bonds and legs it into the woods, Jedidiah and co. in hot pursuit.

You can see where this is going can't you?

"Put it in me!"

Tripping over a discarded bear-trap Elizabeth is soon at the mercy of the by now deranged Jedidiah, his face held together with a makeshift muzzle constructed from an old thong and an eggcup as he slowly approaches his prone pal his chainsaw wobbling in the air menacingly.

OK I'll be honest he looks a wee bit of a cock but at least he's trying.

"Hello...are yu the blind man?"

Will Elizabeth be able to appeal to her one-time friends softer side or will she inadvertently insult his mum causing him to behead her in a fit of pique?

And if this does happen will he fashion Elizabeth's face into a leathery mask and take to wearing it (and shitly applied lipstick) around the house?

Go on, guess.

The prequel to the Tremaine 'Trey Songz' Neverson starring sequel cum reboot that no-one ever asked for (Ok maybe one person did and yes I'm looking at you nan) Leatherface is a futile attempt to breathe new life into a horror franchise that's last halfway decent entry was released way back in 1986.

Ignoring the brilliant Part 2 (probably) as well as Parts 3 and 4 - and the various reboots and rejigs since - Leatherface takes us back to the birth of a horror icon (again) in the vain hope that someone (anyone?) is interested, ticking all the deep south clichés along the way before exploding into an ill-advised mess of wobbly mantits, bad teeth, cheap gore and a twist so obvious you'll be surprised that they didn't just add another twist on the end to make up for it.

Or at least an apology.

Directors Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo (who obviously shot their horror wad when writing and directing the frankly marvelous Livide and the not too shady Inside) do their best with the limited budget available and whilst Bugaria does a passable impression of Texas and the cast try to add some sparkle to the hackneyed dialogue it's an uphill struggle that's neither shlocky enough or gruesome enough to be truly memorable.

Or even remotely enjoyable for any reason other than to marvel at the depths Lili Taylor and Stephen Dorff's careers have sunk to.

A friend of mine in it's defense said that "It's the best TCM movie not directed by Tobe Hooper."

Which sums it up perfectly.

 Avoid.

Unless you get turned on by fake rubbery nipples and bad teeth.

bad moon rising.

Thought I'd better have at least one certified classic in this years 31 Days of Horror and you can do much worse than this beauty.

Enjoy.

 

 

Messiah of Evil (AKA Dead People, 1973).

Dir: Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz.

Cast:  Michael Greer, Marianna Hill, Joy Bang, Anitra Ford, Royal Dano, Elisha Cook Jr., Charles Dierkop, Bennie Robinson and Walter Hill.

"They're coming here. They're waiting at the edge of the city. They're peering around buildings at night, and they're waiting. They waiting for you! And they'll take you one by one and no-one will hear you scream. No-one will hear you SCREAM!"

Our tale of terror opens with Walter Hill - director of The Warriors (no, really) sweatily running thru the narrow backstreets of Anytown USA in the dead of night, pursued by an unseen assailant before reaching a deserted corner and collapsing in a heap.

He probably had a vision from the future of the critical reaction he'd get for Geronimo: An American Legend which, to be fair would floor anyone.

Suddenly the gate of a nearby yard opens and a young horse-faced girl pops out and takes Walter's hand leading him into the yard and to the swimming pool where he splashes his face in an attempt to calm himself.

As he turns to thank the girl she pulls out a cut-throat razor and - yes - cuts his throat. 

Ouch.

"Howdy neigh-bour!"

And with that we jump (cinematically not literally mind) to the local insane asylum, where we find Arletty (Hill from Blood Beach, The Baby and High Plains Drifter among other classics), a young woman who was found wandering the highway after she'd gone missing searching for her estranged father.

And so begins our story good and proper (via wibbly wobbly flashback effects) with Arletty traveling to the beach-side town of Point Dune before stopping for directions at a local gas station where broken nosed attendant Bob (Dierkop from Star Trek) nervously fills her tank (ooeerr) before warning her away.

As she drives off a blood red pick up arrives, driven by a scary albino bloke (Robinson, father of Anne) and filled with corpses.

It'll come as no surprise to find that Bob soon joins them.

Arriving in town Arletty soon settlles in to her dad's frankly fantastically decorated beachfront house - filled as it is with wall to wall murals of people, streets scenes and even a painting of an escalator with the whole thing set off with a floating bed (on chains) in the middle of the main room.

Seriously the house is literally a character in it's own right, kudos to art director (and brother-in-law of David Lynch) Jack Fisk, he of Phantom of The Paradise, Mulholland Drive and Playstation 2: The Third Place fame (among others) - probably one of the most incredible production designers ever AND he's married to Sissy Spacek.

No I'm not jealous at all.

Anyway, back to the film where, after speaking with a local (blind) art dealer and her camp/creepy son, Arletty is told that a visiting art collector and suave man about town named Thom (Greer from The Gay Deceivers and the Don Johnson starrer The Magic Garden of Stanley Sweetheart) has also been inquiring into the whereabouts of her father in order to not only buy some of his work but learn more about the towns dark past and legends.

Seems legit.

And with that she heads to the local motel to pay him a visit, where she finds Thom sprawled across a bed with his two female 'companions', Toni and Laura (Unwell favourite, star of Night of The Cobra Woman and Peggy Lee Brennan alike Bang alongside Invasion of The Bee Girls star Ford) who are busying themselves drinking and smoking as the local homeless man Charlie (screen stalwart Cook Jr. who) recounts the horrible history of Point Dune.

 

Those parties your mum and dad used to have when they sent you to bed early.

Overpowered by the combine stench of Thom's aftershave and Charlie's piss-stained trousers Arletty makes her excuses and leaves only to be cornered by Charlie in the stairwell where he informs her that her father is still alive, but that he has changed and that that if she loves him, she must kill him and burn his body. 

Which is nice.

And with that Arletty goes to do a wee bit of shopping leaving poor Charlie to be butchered (to death) offscreen.

 

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

 

Returning to her dads house later that afternoon and with a huge baguette under her arm Arletty is surprised to find not just Thom but also his lady friends laid out on the sofa and scoffing all her biscuits.

This odd turn of events gives Thom ample opportunity to attempt to persuade Arletty to let him have a fiddle in her pants which in turn gives Laura a reason to jealously storm out of the house and hitch a ride into town with Mr albino eventually ending up in an empty supermarket where she's stalked around the shelves before being overpowered by and eaten by the townsfolk in the fabric conditioner section.

"Are you local?"

Back at the house Thom and Arletty are busy reading her dads diaries for more information on the blood moon, whilst Toni sits about complaining smoking and flashing her arse at anyone who cares to notice.

But all this bum baiting and book reading is cut short when the local police turn up to inform Arletty that her dads body has been found on the beach, crushed under the collapsed remains of a childrens climbing frame.

 

Joy Bang: Arse.

 

Aretty is not convinced tho' as her dad had well manicured hands and the corpse has big fat sausage fingers and with that her and Thom decide to search for him down the back of the sofa whilst Toni decides to go into town to watch a movie.

In this case the 1974 western Gone with the West.

Sitting alone in the cinema Toni fails to notice as the townfolk - all bleeding from one eye - slowly and silently take their seats around her, waiting for the film to end before circling her and eating her whole.*

 

As night falls the blood moon rises and the remaining town's residents transform into flesh hungry ghouls, Arletty and Thom listen intently to a recording of Charlie retelling the story of a literal Messiah of Evil who visited the town a century before - a former minister and a Donner Party survivor who arrived to proclaim a new religion as the moon turned blood red and the townsfolk began hungering for human flesh before walking into the ocean vowing to return this very night to lead his flock to freedom.

And with that Thom realises that Toni is missing and heads out to save her, soon finding himself dodging cannibalistic townies and riot police as the whole town is quickly engulfed by carnage and bri-nylon slacked ghouls.  

 A wee bit like Dudley town centre on a Saturday night.

Back at the house Arletty is (finally) visited by her father, who begs her to leave and warn the world about Point Dune's curse before attempting to kill her as his cannibalistic urges take control.

Arletty responds by stabbings him with a pair of rusty garden shears before setting fire to him just as Thom returns. 

But it appears to be too late for Arletty, as she's already bleeding from her eye,  complaining about being unable to feel pain or the cold and puking up worms but Thom is convinced he can save her so the pair head out toward the coast in the hope of evading the townsfolk and finding help.... 

 

Most famous for appearing on a marquee in the Woody Allen film Annie Hall, Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz's classic Messiah of Evil is, alongside Carnival of Souls, one of the greatest low budget horror shockers of all time.

Mixing the haunting feel of Edgar Allan Poe with the cosmic horrors of HP Lovecraft and undead vibes of George A Romero the pair deliver a film that is as surreal and disturbing as it is scarily unsettling.

Even some of the 'non'-performances from certain members of the cast seem to suit the whole wild endeavor and the set design, lighting and art direction rival Mario Bava at his best at times.

Seriously it's that good.

Supermarket Sweep.

Playing out like some drug induced fever dream, the films lack of logic and reason only adds to it's impact and its influence can be found in everything from Twin Peaks to The League of Gentlemen with its 'special stuff' obsessed face bleeding towns folk and stilted almost stage performances and the aforementioned cinema scene, alongside Laura's stalking thru' the supermarket are two of the most effective and unnerving scenes in horror history.

What more can I say?

If you've not seen it, go watch it now and thank me later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*No they don't spit that bit out.