new york stories.

Just found out that the great beast himself and towering hero of Italian cinema Luigi Montefiori AKA George Eastman has died.

 

 

So as way of a tribute I present a (re)review of a couple of his greatest hits.

Why not see how many more you can find scattered around the blog?

Remember there's no prizes tho' it's just for fun! 

The New Barbarians (AKA Warriors of The Wasteland, Metropolis 2000. 1982).
Dir: Enzo G. Castellari.
Cast: Timothy Brent (AKA Giancarlo Prete), Fred Williamson, George Eastman, Anna Kanakis, Thomas Moore (AKA Ennio Girolami), Giovanni Frezza, Massimo Vanni, Venantino Venantini, Iris Peynado, Andrea Coppola, Vito Fornari and Zora Kerova.

At the beginning of the 21st century, the nuclear
holocaust had come to pass and civilisation vanished.
It was a time of chaos and violence,
until one day there appeared…The New Barbarians!

Our adventure (by that I mean the film) opens in what appears to be a child's bedroom, a scale model of New York (built entirely from discarded boxes and yogurt pots for a school project) sits proudly on the shelf.

Suddenly someone drops a discarded cigarette on the model and it bursts into flames.

Oh no, it was getting judged for a prize tomorrow!

Hang on my mistake, I think it was meant to be the actual New York City being nuked.

Well it's an easy one to make.

As Claudio Simonetti channels Stewart Copeland's 'Equaliser' theme we jump forward nine years to 2019 where the world has become one huge quarry and groups of barely human survivors wander around in charity shop cardigans and a variety of hats whilst supping soup from tiny metal take away dishes.

Indeed, I've seen the future and it's really similar to Glasgow city centre on a Saturday.

Littering the wasteland are rotten corpses in breast revealing anti-radiation suits, tatty bits of heating ducts and car doors to show viewers that civilization has indeed fallen.

Anyway enough pointless scene setting, we want action and action we get when a gang of scary haired road warrior types clad in white padded PVC and riding about on dirt bikes and customized kiddies dodgem cars attack the survivors encampment killing everyone in sight.

Lion-O Blair.

Welcome The Templars dear viewer, a camp as pants gang of angry gays with jokeshop wigs led by the badger haired, bearded Bible tearing bad man named 'The One' (Eastman-the reason we are here).

And the Templars mission?

Rough sodomy and maximum violence in retaliation for the nuclear war that ended civilization.

Yup that makes perfect sense.

Gayest of these gay marauders is One's right (and probably his wanking) hand man Steve Mako (AKA Dick Shagnasty vividly portrayed by Massimo Vanni from Zombie 4: After Death and Strike Commando 2) a peacock headed loon who drives around in a Bacofoil covered 2CV with a huge cannon sticking out of the front and a side mounted wall fan capable of cutting the heads off passers by.

All of course painted silver.

He's thinking of you naked
and trussed up like a turkey.

Into the devastation and fields of burning pikey corpses drives our hero, the perfectly permed Scorpion (the late great Brent, star of the classic Black Belly of the Tarantula as well as dross like Caligula II: Messalina Messalina, The Last Shark and Fashion Crimes), dressed head to toe in beige corduroy (with huge fur trimmed shoulder pads obviously) and his scrawny man chest on view for all the world to see cuts a mighty fine dash as he cruises the apocalypse in his jet black muscle car, complete with a silver painted skull on the radiator, huge silver tubes leading into the bonnet and what looks like a massive transparent plastic tit glued to the roof.

He must be hard as fuck (or have a neck of pure brass) to be see dead in such an automotive abomination.

Tongs ya bas? No it's a perm.

Realizing that he's missed the battle, Scorpion relieves his pent up anger by viciously slaughtering a bunch of lisping mummies he finds aimlessly limping about like stroke sufferers before taking his car to be repaired by my wee boy, sorry I mean Giovanni Frezza.

No really, the Frezza-Meister turns up in a fantastic surprise cameo as a mechanic cum sling shot champion (remember this it may become important later) turning an already so-so movie into a not bad one.

I bet he can heal the sick and walk on water too the cool bastard.

With his tires changed and his furry dice cleaned Scorpion heads back onto the open road (in reality a deserted airstrip just outside Rome) where he catches the Templars (sounds painful) chasing a half naked, boss eyed young woman named Alma (former Ms. Italy and ex missis Claudio Simonetti, Kanakis) after spearing her hubbie in the cock and blowing their transit van up.

Scorpion steps (well, drives) in to save this damsel in distress, much to the chagrin of Mako and his leather clad lover Brian (Coppola from Amazonia: The Catherine Miles Story) who vows revenge on the pube topped one for this and a variety of past misdemeanors.

It turns out that Scorpion actually used to be an elder of the arse bothering Templars but left the order due to not having outrageous enough a barnet (oh and not liking cock obviously) and it's for this reason (and the fact that he hates Mako even more than he hates fanny) that the lion-maned, tidy bearded Barry Shadow (Girolami from Tenebrae, Bronx Warriors and Escape From The Bronx) feels obliged to let him go.

"Keep your eyes on the prize hen,
well one of them at least".

Scorpion, being a perfect gentleman, offers the girl a ride in his car (with a promise of more later) she breathlessly accepts and the pair drive off into the sunset, unaware that they are being followed by a really annoyed Mako.

The Templar that is not the species of Shark tho' to be honest that would also be worth seeing.

After a romantic evening shagging in a giant, green Marks and Spencer's freezer bag, Scorpion spends what seems to be the next three days driving very slowly around the same bit of quarry whilst telling Alma the story of his life ("I used to be a bad buggerer of boys but now I prefer quim and helping people.") Scorpion notices the small group of kiddies electric cars blocking his way.

"Is it in yet?"

Mako and his bro's have decided (against the will of The One) to kick (then shag obviously) Scorpions firm, muscular arse and our hero soon finds himself in the middle of a firefight whilst dodging Mako's killer fan contraption.

Luckily for Scorpion (and for the viewer) his old buddie, the sexy black, bowman Nadir (the man, the legend that is and always will be Fred 'The Hammer' Williamson) has been watching from a distance and soon wades into battle armed with his high-tech exploding arrows, porn god mustache and almost supernatural ability to impregnate women thru' a teevee screen.

The pair make short work of mentalist Mako and his goons, with Mako himself ending up chewing on one of his own cars wheels whilst a distraught Brian looks on, tears, blood, egg yolk and semen stinging his eyes.

Scorpion sends him back to Templar HQ with a clip round the ear and his boyfriends mangled corpse in a binbag.

This isn't gonna end well is it?

 Your dad's taking the divorce well.

By this point, The One seems to having a really bad day, not only are his men going out to commit acts of bum violence behind his back but Shadow has been really stroppy since he found out that Scorpion was back on the scene so, to cheer himself up he sets fire to Mako's half naked corpse before stringing Brian up and shooting him.
By this point it's pretty obvious that only one thing can placate One's violent temper.

And that's the pert arse of the Scorpion.

Traveling thru' the (same bit of) deserted wasteland our heroic trio soon come across a band of raggedy survivors led by Father Moses (Venantini from City of the Living Dead) in search of the promised land and Alma, tired of shagging an old man in a kiddies play-tent and missing having access to make-up and hair straighteners decides she wants to join them.

Scorpion reacts with an air of faint indifference whilst Nadir kills time by shagging the pants off a foxy disco-garbed priestess named Vinya (the cute as a button Peynado from Ator the Iron Warrior and my dreams as a teen).

Twice.

After telling Nadir that he's a wild eyed loner heading for the gates of oblivion, our heroes go their separate ways (Nadir into the sunset and Scorpion off to the gents) and leave the Christian folk eating soup and singing hymns unaware that The Templars have discovered this merry band too and are racing at top speed to tell The One.

And things go from bad to worse when One and his posse catch up with Scorpion and run him off the road, trashing his car, messing up his hair and leaving his corduroy jacket in tatters before dragging him back to their camp to string him up so that One can bugger him senseless.

Ouch.

 "Put it in me!"

Spread-eagled and bent double, Scorpion braces himself for a severe forced entry when Shadow interrupts proceedings to tell One about the religious folk he's come across down the road and that it'd probably be best to attack them now before they drive off.

Given the choice between manass and murder One chooses the latter, leaving Scorpion strung up like a turkey whilst the Templar army heads off to battle.

Scorpion can only hang there, his bright red, raw buttocks swaying softly in the breeze as One disappears into the distance, not noticing the sexy hipped black dude crouching in the hills with a sleek steel bow pointed at his captives....

Will Nadir be able to rescue Scorpion in time to prevent the massacre?

Will One ever get his man sandwich?

And will the wee boy design some manbreast revealing see-thru armour for Scorpion to wear in the final battle?

 

 

 

It's important to point out that to truly appreciate Enzo Castellari's mad, mental (and oh so slightly homo-erotic) tribute to Mad Max, this film should only be viewed in a totally sober state in order to be truly appreciated, with it's Casio-tastic Claudio Simonetti score, costumes converted from leatherette sofas, sets built from the contents of the neighbourhood bins and a group of actors no doubt found hanging around those said bins dear old Enzo, obviously still drunk from the success of The Bronx Warriors (or the hotel mini-bar) threw caution, budgetary constraints and common sense to the wind giving us possibly the most realistic view of a post apocalypse world ever committed to celluloid.

Not full of sweets.

And the glue that binds the movie together?

 

That'll be the late great George Eastman, clad in a leatherette sofa cover and with platinum highlights and with a beard bushier than a 70s porn star he doesn't so much as chew the scenery as swallows it whole, only rivaled in the onscreen sexy man stakes by the total stud muffin that is Fred Williamson.

With a trademark sexy swagger and buns of pure diamond, The Hammer doesn't just steal every scene he's in but more likely wines and dines them before making love to them all night long.

And then making them breakfast.

So relax, remove your outer clothing, raise a glass to Mr Eastman and prepare to dive deep in to the warm, wacky and oh so wet world that only a mind like Enzo G. Castellari's (or as we see below, Sergio Martino) can conjure.

 

 2019: After The Fall of New York (AKA 2019 - Dopo la caduta di New York 1983)
Dir: Sergio Martino.
Cast: Michael Sopkiv, Anna Kanakis, George Eastman, Roman Geer, Vincent Scalondro, Edmond Purdom, Valentine Monnier and Louis Ecclesia.

In the future world of 2019 (which is now the past, spooky eh?) the Scrabble worrying Eurac alliance, a new power bloc consisting of top mock rock bands Europe, Asia and Africa but scarily not Toto or Foreigner, having finally had its fill of endless Friends reruns, Taylor Swift and Honey Boo Boo has decided to teach the good ol' US of A a lesson in humility by nuking the fuck out of the entire country and setting up a new government in the ruins of New York City.

And all before the opening titles.

The remaining New Yorkers, after being banned from wearing plaid shirts and shouting 'Bagels!' at passersby now spend their days being used and abused as part of a diabolically inhumane programme of, um, diabolical and (yup) inhumane experiments to solve the problem of sterility among the surviving females.

Every evil empire has to have a hobby tho', so in their spare time the Eurac soldiers gallop around on horseback bedecked in Disney Land style armour killing the piss reeking, mutant squatters who still run free in the city.

Which is nice.

And also where we join the movies plot good and proper as a gaggle of these mucky mutants, armed with the kind of 'high tech' weaponry you always get in these movies (sticks, clubs, maces, golf clubs) are facing off with a squad of the aforementioned black clad Eurac cavalry.

The cavalry orders are simple; make these stinky so and so's have a shower or kill them all.

The honking hordes answer is simple.

Fight for your right to be dirty!

Obviously chaos and property damage ensues.

 

Four men with big shiny helmets yesterday.

Meanwhile in sunny Nevada, our hero, the greasy locked layabout Arthur Parsifal (80's action god Sopkiv) is enjoying a nice, relaxing cross country death race.

The prize?

A foxy female sex slave (pneumatic 80's 'pop' star Sabrina).

Obviously Parsifal wins the race but to show what a nice man he is (well it's either that or he's particularly concerned about his sexual hygiene) decides to let Sabrina go.

Little does our hero know that he's being secretly spied on by a couple of Confederate soldiers (they're the good guys by the way) from way up in the hills.

Well I say hills but it's really a middle sized pile of sand used by the quarry workers to hide behind when they sneak off for a fag.

It appears that the soldier boys have been hanging about in the vain hope that the former popstrel poppet will give an impromptu performance of her hit 'Boys Boys Boys' whilst jiggling about like an epileptic trifle in an ill fitting bikini because frankly I can't think of any other reason to spend your days knee deep in soggy mud wearing an outfit that Jimmy Savile would knock back for being too perv-like.

So it comes as a wee bit of a surprise when they suddenly stun the poor bloke before manhandling him onto a jet and flying to Alaska.

"Can you smell petrol?"

 
It seems that some non-gypsy inbreds also survived the attack on America and are in dire need of a man of Parsifal's talents to undertake a most special mission.

The last fertile woman in the country has been located in New York and it's his job to rescue her.

If Parsifal succeeds the surviving members of America's (flea) free government intend to pop her aboard a spaceship bound for Alpha Centauri, alongside a carefully selected crew of stud muffins, where on arrival they'll proceed to fuck like bunnies in an attempt to repopulate the human race.

Which is nice work if you can get it.

"Mah wee boy painted this".

Seeing as it's such a dangerous mission and more importantly that Parsifal will need folk to talk to in order to keep the viewers interested, the limp fringed one is to be accompanied on his journey by top childrens entertainers Goeff Ratchet and Lesley Bronx (Geer and Scalondro who've probably been in loads of stuff and are dead famous but frankly I can't be arsed checking).

Our heroic band gain entry into the city with little trouble (and very quickly seeing as they started the morning in Alaska) but as usually happens in these films quickly get into a painfully slow paced fight.

The bad men are no match for our heroes tho', especially after Ratchet unleashes his deadly metal balls (he's really an android.....yesch!) and bonks the baddies into submission.

Retreating to the sewers the trio soon encounter a crazy mob of filthy rat hating folk led by the madly monikered Rat Eating King (The Wolverine's Yamanouchi) and accompanied by the sultry Giara (Monnier from Devil Fish) who looks the filthiest of them all but in a totally different way.

Not used to having guests and wanting to show our heroes a good time the merry band decided to engage in the age old tradition of poking rats with sticks whilst a groovy samba beat plays in the background whilst a community centre modern dance group throw shapes in the corner.

So far so dick shrinkingly awful but don't despair because just when you're about to end it all (or at the very least turn this shite off) the rat people pull a dwarf (Ecclesia in his only screen role outside your mum's secret video tapes) out from behind some rocks and start poking him instead.

Britain's Got Talent hang your head in shame.

"Stop trying to climb mah beanstalk!"

Just as they're about to administer the infamous death poke tho' good guy Parsifal steps in (by steps in I mean he starts fighting them) because if anyone is going to stick something in a little person it should be him frankly.

Unfortunately, our heroic trio are overwhelmed by the rat tribe and taken prisoner.

Waking up in a cupboard Parsifal learns that the rat baiting is less a search for food but more the prelude to some sexy shenanigans.

You see, whoever pokes the most rodents gets to have sex with the lady of their choice and seeing as all the women (and all the men) - except Giara - are covered in weeping sores it's a safe bet to say she gets picked all the time.

Lucky girl.

Parsifal, upset at not automatically getting the girl and obviously upset at missing his chance with Sabrina earlier, just sits and sulks as Giara is taken into a side room for some hot rat based bum bothering but as luck (and decency) would have it the evil Euracs pick that very moment to attack the rodent hunting tribe.

Ratchet legs it up a tunnel, but Bronx and Parsifal grabbed by the gendarmes and taken before the slinkily sinister Eurac leader Ms. Ania (former Ms. Italy Anna Kanakis looking for all the world like a sexier, council estate version of Danni Minogue) who instantly knows that there's something amiss with Parsifal and his bud.

The fact that they both look like they work out, don't stink of piss and aren't covered in vile weeping sores alone is enough to arouse Ania's suspicions, add to this her reaction to a glimpse of Parsifal's tight buns when he swaggers into her office and it comes as no surprise that she quickly orders him to be stripped to the waist for a thorough 'interrogation'.

Lucky sod.

The old guy from The Full Monty, Ms. Italia
1977, Fred West and a young Rutger Hauer yesterday.

Luckily Parsifal's quick thinking convinces Ania that Giara is the real threat and that the should really capture her instead.

Being female and obviously threatened by the thought of a rival to Parsifal's affections she completely falls for his ruse.

The angry Eurac commander given the job of interrogating Bronx fairs a little worse, forgetting as he does to disable Bronx's claw (you know, wrapping it in parcel tape or tying a big elastic band around it, basic common sense really).

The poor bloke gets no further than asking his favourite ice cream flavour before Bronx has gouged the commander's eyes out in painfully fake close-up.

Don't worry tho' they get replaced by robot ones in the following scene.

(Here it comes)...."Aye son!"

 
Luckily Ratchet and Shorty (that's the dwarf if you didn't guess) jump out from behind a filing cabinet in order to rescue our heroes and an exciting (well I say exciting) chase ensues thru' the crumbling tunnels beneath the city.

Losing their pursuers our merry band arrive at Shorty's home; a large cave beneath the old UN building where an entire army of dwarves  lie in wait for a hero to lead them.

Can this movie get any better?

Unfortunately, before you can get too excited imgining a sweaty dwarf Vs. leather clad horseman battle, the Eurac stormtroopers turn up and kill them all with a 'sonic cannon' meaning it's back to the slightly less exciting pastime of aimless tunnel wandering for our clueless chums.

Shit....Dollar have let themselves go.

Don't fret tho' because a film with such a short running time wont spend too long dwelling on inconsequential padding plus the opening credits promised an appearance from the mightily man-breasted 'B' movie behemoth that is George Eastman, so it comes as no surprise when he turns up leading a posse of mutant monkey men.

What is a surprise tho' is their choice of attire, clad as they are in brightly coloured silk and gaudy, pound shop  jewelery, which for an alleged race of hard as nails simian soldiers is a brave choice.

Eastman especially looks camper than Dylan Mulvaney in a pink bunny suit sunbathing on a beach of cock.

Not to worry tho' as they know where the fertile woman is hidden and are willing to take Parsifal to her.

It appears that she's kept in a secret cavern (well, obviously secret to everyone but the dwarves and monkeys) just around the corner from where the apemen live and that they've always been willing to hand her over to whoever asked but no-one ever did.

Thinking about it, this entire plot could possibly been sorted so much quicker by a well timed phone call and some flowers.

Entering the cavern (which is much less effort than doing the same to your sister) Parsifal finds not only Lil Ms. Fertile - suspended from the roof in a glass case -  but also the corpse of her kindly scientist dad and a fully restored 1972 Station Wagon.

Something for everyone really.

It appears that Mr. Scientist had spend loads of time thinking about his daughters future as a baby machine (which is nice if a little creepy) and had formulated a plan to get her out of the city via the Lincoln Tunnel using the station Wagon supplied.

He'd even left maps and drawings to aid whoever turned up, which is lucky for our heroes seeing as they look the type that would lose a game of noughts and crosses with a potato.

Depending if they could figure out how to use a pencil first that is.

Unfortunately the Lincoln Tunnel is heavily defended by crack Eurac troops armed with special Station Wagon busting cannons so Parsifal's only chance of success rests on being able to armoured plate the car using whatever comes to hand.

Discarded loo rolls, pizza boxes etc. You know the drill.

Only then will they have any chance of making it out alive and with their precious cargo intact.

I'd jump to her beat but not before I'd done a shite in her mooth.

Leaving Big Ape and Giara to guard the girl Parsifal, Ratchet, and Shorty go searching for junk to stick to the car.


As opposed to sticking their junk in it obviously.

Their run of bad luck (and half-arsed plotting) seems to come to an end when they come across what appears to be a totally undamaged Aldi full to the brim of all our car armouring needs but it doesn't last as no sooner have they found a pound coin for the trolley when a pesky Eurac patrol attacks our heroes.

Just as all seems lost the plucky Shorty leads the bad boys away giving our Parsifal and Ratchet time to drag a couple of trolleys full of tin plate and toffee back to the cavern but at the cost of Shorty's life.

No real loss then.

"I love you....could it be magic?"

Whilst all this is 'going down' as the youngsters say, Big Ape has come across all amorous, he's fully loaded so to speak and is feeling the urge to procreate.

Knocking Giara out cold he slips first into Ms. Fertile's display cabinet and then into Ms. Fertile herself.

Saucy.

When Giara awakes Big Ape is sitting with his pipe and slippers singing to himself and explaining how she must have fainted due to his aftershave or something.

Nothing suspicious there then.

Returning with the tin and stuff, our heroes quickly begin the task of armouring the car for the journey from New York.

But will it be enough?

Will they reach Alaska with the fertile lady intact?

Will Big Ape get it on again?

And will Parsifal realise that Giara is only hanging around because he's the only person in the film who's not had sex with her yet?

Channeling everything from Escape from New York and Mad Max via Fanny Craddock's wardrobe and Simon LeBon's hair, director Sergio Martino's lo-fi sci-fi epic is a rip roaring rollercoaster ride of action, adventure and excitement with the added bonus of dwarf power.

Its special effects put its contemporaries to shame (but only if the contemporaries are Blake's 7, Captain Zep and late 70's Doctor Who obviously), its costumes are enough to make 'Wild Boys' era Duran Duran green with envy (or giddy from laughing take your pick) and the hair bleach budget alone must have been enough to cripple a small country.

But if that wasn't enough to recommend this masterpiece then don't forget that it features the frankly magnificent George Eastman playing a cheeky (and very horny) monkey.

 

To be honest it's exactly what you'd expect from the man behind the classic Mountain of The Cannibal God.

Sopkiw: camel.

Michael Sopkiw's short (but sweet) movie career was kick-started with this movie, unfortunately for him (and us) he failed to make such an impact again and after Monster Shark (1984, where he re-teamed with Monnier) and Cannibal Ferox 2 (1985) he retired from acting, going on to study medicinal plant science and eventually launched Miron Violet Glass, a California-based company which makes special glass bottles that protect plants from the sun.

Not funny but true, sorry.

His portrayal as the oddly monikered Parsifal is a joy to watch coming over like a junior Kurt Russell doing a community centre pantomime version of Beyond Thunderdome with a script by someone to whom English is a third language.

Which, if he's reading is meant as a compliment by the way (he still looks quite handy and could probably give me a bloody good kicking if angered).

Other cast members fared a wee bit better in the acting field; foxy Anna Kanakis became a mainstay of Italian TeeVee and is still working today (not literally mind you, you may be reading this on a bank holiday or late at night) and the late great Edmund Purdom, whose career took him from stage to screen via the dizzying highs and lows of European exploitation hell before finally carving a career as a dubbing/voice artiste in the Italian film industry appears to be still going strong despite dying in 2009.

Of the others I'll be honest, I didn't bother checking, except for Valentine Monnier whom I quickly looked for on Facebook and found this:

Tho' I'm assuming it's not her.

Anyway, I digress.

As is the usual with a Martino movie, the whole thing is less about unimportant factors like budget (or lack of) and (often threadbare) scripts and more about the movie's pacing and offering a variety of set pieces (of varying quality and levels of excitement) to keep the viewer entertained enough to not realise - or care - that the whole thing is actually complete and utter bollocks.

 

Obviously if anyone can prove that radioactive fallout can turn people into  monkey-men I'll take it all back.

And I can't say much fairer than that.

 

Except RIP Mr Eastman and Godspeed!

 

 

rave from the grave.

 Celebrating the birthday of the king of the undead George A Romero with this creepy cacophony of corpse based floor fillers.... 

Stay scared!

 

the king is dead.

 RIP Udo Kier

  14 October 1944 - 23 November 2025.

 

farewell to the master.

 Drew Struzan

 18 March 1947 - 13 October 2025

 

drawn to life.

 RIP Renato Casaro.

 

monarch of the glen.

 Farewell to the fantastic Glen Michael, off to the great cartoon cavalcade in the sky.

 And for those of you who aren't aware of the great mans work, enjoy!

 

cat baloo.

It's time for a holiday with todays 31 Days of Horror pick as we carry on abroad with this 'classic' from 2014.

But will there be any thinly veiled digs at Doctor Who today?

Go on, guess.

 

 

The Pyramid (2014).
Dir: Gregory Levasseur.
Cast:  Ashley Hinshaw, Denis O'Hare, James Buckley, Christa Nicola, Amir K, Faycal Attougui and Philip Shelley.

“This doesn’t look like the Egyptian stuff you find at the British Museum!”

It's August 2013 and those pesky, democracy craving Egyptians are rowdily rioting in Cairo’s Ramses Square, an historic turning point in Middle Eastern politics.

But fuck that cos there are far more important things afoot out in the desert where the American father/daughter archaeology team of Miles (American Horror Story stalwart O’Hare channeling Harry Dean Stanton) and Nora Holden (council estate Blake Lively, Hinshaw) have just uncovered a new (in the sense of it being hidden, it's not like they hired Bob The Builder to construct it for them - tho' that would make a great movie) pyramid.

Buried beneath the harsh desert sands for over five thousand years (possibly), the team are most excited by the fact that it only has three sides.

Which probably cheered the CGI team up no end too.

Unfortunately there's a chance that they'll never get to explore it seeing as the US government, always wary of being involved in other countries political problems when it doesn't concern them, want the pair out of Egypt as soon as possible save Ben Affleck has to be sent in to rescue them.

Plus it's full of a scary green gas that makes people vomit milk.

Which is nice.

"...And here we see one of Madonna's original bra's!"

 

Luckily the team are given 24 hours to complete their investigations by their military liaison, the permanently angry Corporal Terry Shadid (Attougui) so Nora persuades her 'love' interest and the teams techie Zahir (the Kafka-esquely named K) to send his borrowed NASA robot into the pyramid for a wee nosy around.

Which would be a great excuse for some spooky found footage style thrills if it weren't so badly handled.

At this point I was a wee bit worried that the entire film would be made up of footage from the robot intercut with reaction shots of the human cast but alas this fairly unique (if horrifying) prospect is soon dashed when the machine is destroyed by some slight - and unconvincing - CGI, leaving Nora, Miles and Zahir, alongside the terrifyingly eyebrowed news-anchor Sunni (Home And Away's Nicola) and her cheeky-chappie British cameraman Fitzie (The Inbetweeners Buckley, who once appeared in what's no longer the worst episode of Doctor Who ever, cheers Russell) no choice that to pack up shop and head back to the relative safety of America.

The end.

Only joking of course, obviously they throw caution (and logic) to the wind and head forth into the pyramid.

Not even industrial gas masks can hide the stench of this script.

Aware of the films meager running time the group quickly become lost, then after a section of dodgy crazy paving collapses beneath them, trapped in a big hole.

Luckily only token foreign bloke Zahir is injured, pinned to the ground by a huge lump of polystyrene.

Luckier still is the fact that Sunni is not just a top TV type but is, in fact also a trained climber which means that she can climb out of the hole and go for help.

Which as far as logical plans go is pretty good for this movie and it just might of worked had it not been for the pesky cat (a highly trained Egyptian attack cat at that) that destroyed the robot lying in wait to pop out and surprise her, leading to this priceless dialogue exchange:

“There's something up there and it scratched my face! ”

Admit it, it doesn't really chill you to the bone or fill you with dread does it?

After, oooh, minutes of debating they decide to leave Zahir behind and take their chances in a nearby tunnel, only to turn back when they hear the poor sod screaming for help.

They probably shouldn't have bothered seeing as all that's left of the bloke is a jammy smear and a toenail.

There's no time to mourn their fallen comrade tho' as the angry tones of Corporal Shadid are soon echoing around the room which means there must be a way out.

Either that or the director fancies killing off another foreigner before starting on the English speaking cast.

Milk in mah mooth!

Hurrying thru' a narrow tunnel with an army of killer cats in hot pursuit our merry band soon find Shadid, who drags them to the relative safety of yet another chamber before being ignominiously dragged into the tunnel by a thing (or things) unseen/not yet rendered by the films animators.

From this point on it's sand traps and spiked pits ahoy as no Mummy movie cliche is left unburied as our surviving heroes race towards a thrilling (well I say thrilling) climax as the true nature of the pyramid is unveiled.

In part thanks to the mummified remains of a notebook clutching Freemason they just happen to find in a burial chamber.

Obviously he'd been caught painting the sand stone red, white and blue or trying to organise a march thru' the tunnels when he was found by the non- Protestant occupant.

And you'd never guess who that is.

"Woof!"

Why it's none other than Jeff Anubis, famed protector of the dead and god of funerals.

It's like Through The Keyhole on smack.

Anyway back to the plot (what there is of it) where it seems that, oh, years ago (2000–1700 BC at least) Jeff's dad/creator Osiris, on account of not suffering from dog breath beat poor Anubis in the annual most important god of the dead competition and leaving him in second place.

Although this didn't come without it's perks and a fancy job title ("Guardian of the Scales"), Anubis soon got bored tearing out folks hearts to see if they could get into heaven and decided to do other stuff instead.

The film/history books don't mention what so I like to imagine him surfing or opening a chip shop, go on, see what funny situations you can imagine Anubis in.

Be warned tho' none of them will be as amusing as the thought of his best mate Set/Sutekh spending an eternity squatting atop the TARDIS before morphing into a coal covered Chuckle Hound.

Cheers (again) Russell.

"Look at the dog!"

Anyway the Egyptians, being a leather obsessed and frankly untrustworthy lot decided to build a huge pyramid to imprison him in and leave an army of cats inside to stop him escaping.

As you do.

Now if only they'd thought to write this above the entrance none of this would have happened.

The ancient god Anubis, sniffing someones arse yesterday.

Plus Anubis himself wouldn't have to suffer the indignity of being portrayed as a badly rendered CGI stick man wearing a dodgy fur-suit dogs head clad only in a hula skirt.

Don't you know about Anubis? He'll take you up a hill, beat you up and then he'll bum you! And if he doesn't kill you, you kill yourself because of the shame of you getting a boner whilst you was being bummed!

 

So will the rapidly dwindling team manage to escape from the clutch of Anubis?

Can you actually clutch if you have paws?

Does Anubis even have paws?

If the cats are frightened of fire, why not just remove their jackets and make torches?

Why trap Anubis in a Labyrinth when they could have just sealed him in and filled the whole structure with sand and suffocate him?

And most importantly why does every film of this ilk have a shitey mock-rock song over the end credits? 

Pity poor Gregory Levasseur, the writer behind the genuinely brilliant Maniac remake (as well as the not too shoddy Hills Have Eyes reboot and the sexy shocker High Tension), with a pedigree like that behind him you'd reckon he'd have been a wee bit more choosey when it came to picking the script  for his directorial debut.

Writers Nick Simon and Daniel Meersand ransack the tombs of both the Egyptian undead and found footage genres with little knowledge or understanding of either in the vain hope that some of it will stick out in a memorable way.

Unfortunately saddled with dialogue along the lines of “We’re just like food in a bowl right now,” the only place it sticks is in the viewers throat, or in the case of the almost schizophrenic 'is it or isn't it?' found footage style, the audience is left to play the who's filming who? game.

Which if I'm honest does add an element of enjoyment from the film that's sadly missing from the (frankly ludicrously nonsensical) plot.

Charlie says practical effects are best.

 

What scares the movie does attempt are more like old friends than genuine frights being taken as they are from (better) genre movies going back to the 50's and earlier and the sub par CG makes the already vaguely amusing idea of an army of highly trained, god fighting killer cats unintentionally hilarious.

Tho' not as side-splitting as the reveal of Anubis in all his floating about not quite in shot, plasticine faced glory.

Honestly I've seen better CG in an average episode of Numberjacks.

No.

In both cases tho' I have to wonder why they just didn't buy a kiddies dog mask instead I’ll never know but saying that, there is an oh so clever train of thought that says that monster looking this shite are, in fact really clever as we can't and shouldn't judge people and things on their outward appearance.

I mean who's to say that the Egyptian god of the dead wouldn't choose to appear to be made out of kiddies modelling clay and hastily painted in shit?

A better man than me that's for sure.

Nothing special but a fairly harmless way to pass 90 minutes.

Especially this early into 31 days of horror.

But saying that so is shagging your gran and I know which I'd find more satisfying.

mental maggots.

Awoke this morning to the news that The Pope of Pop Cinema himself, Lord Roger of Corman had died so in way of a tribute I thought I'd revisit this classic.

Because he produced it obviously not just for shits and giggles.

Galaxy of Terror (AKA Mindwarp: An Infinity of Terrors, Planet of Horrors. 1981)
Dir: Bruce D. Clark.
Cast: Edward Albert, Erin Moran, Taaffe O'Connell, Robert Englund, Ray Walston, Bernard Behrens, Zalman King, Grace Zabriskie and Sid Haig.

"I live and die by the crystals".

Across the vastness of deep space lies the desolate, storm-lashed (and somewhat soundstage like) planet Morganthus, where the sole survivor of an off screen (and therefore cheap) spaceship crash is fighting a losing battle against an unseen (and therefore very cheap) alien force.

As well as battling the worst home haircut this side of Dario Argento.

And I know which is scarier.

No surprises when I tell you that it's the haircut that wins.

Back at space headquarters (alright then, the portacabin round the back of the studios that Roger Corman uses to store his porn) the jolly crew of the good ship Quest are ordered to mount a rescue mission at the behest of the mysterious 'Planet Master', a strange old man in a second hand suit with a red lightbulb for a head who appears to spend his day playing a table-top version of Pong.

Welcome to the future, eighties style.

Leading the mission is the Planet Master's bezzie mate, the piss-stained and gin soaked soon to be retired Bobby Ilvar (Behrens, the voice of Obi Wan Kenobi in the Star Wars radio series) who, alongside his mismatched team that includes bewigged mentalist Captain Trantor (Twin Peaks hottie Zabriskie), the scarred lone survivor of a previous secret mission; the Tom Selleck alike Cabren (Albert from Power Rangers: Time Force) and the bottle rocket, wooden legged second-in-command Billy Baelon (soft core porn master and former Jesus, King), are charged with locating any survivors as well as looking for some vague and secret stuff whilst they're at it.

I tried not to think too much about the plot seeing as no-one involved seemed to be bothered.

"I can see your house from here Peter".

Also aboard is Cabren's ex squeeze, the harsh-faced psi-sensitive (whatever that means) Alluma (Happy Days' Joanie Cunningham, Moran, who's frankly seen better days - and much better gear before now), chief cook and bottle washer Melvin Kore (My Favourite Martian Walston), and the pube bearded, mightily manbreasted hardman Hilary Quuhod (genre stalwart Haig) - master of the deadly Perspex boomerangs.

There are a few other folk aboard too but frankly it'd be easier all round if you just imagine a couple of pieces of hardboard decked out in sub standard bri-nylon (and nipple revealing) Battlestar Galactica uniforms.

Oh, and Freddy Krueger in an Abraham Lincoln beard.

Engaging warp drive (which is just off Stella Street) The Quest soon arrives at it's destination and the crew begin their search for any survivors.

And the ships supply of chocolate biscuits.

And quite possibly any evidence of an original idea.

Unfortunately they find nothing but a load of leftover sets from Battle Beyond The Stars strewn with litter and a few shop window dummies smeared with jam and hanging from the roof.

Baelon, angered by such a waste of yummy toast topping goodness decides to set fire to everything around him whilst the rest of the crew (including the jittery Johnny Deadsoon) split up and have a wee scout around.

But obviously not in a John Wayne Gacy way.

Tho' that would probably make the whole thing that wee bit more entertaining.

Bored with burning stuff and annoyed by Alluma's constant whining about 'dark energies' Baelon orders everyone back to The Quest for tea and toast, a decision that cheers everyone up except poor Deadsoon, who has to stay behind to find his hat that he's dropped.

Suffice to say that within seconds of the others leaving he's killed by what looks like a big rubber testicle that jumps on his back and squeezes his head till it pops.

"And when I'm anally violated I pull THIS face!"

Realizing one of their number is missing the crew head back across the studio rubbish tip (sorry, alien landscape) to look for him, giving the frighteningly pneumatic Dameia (O'Connell from Caged Fury) an excuse to tell everyone how much she hates maggots and how she'd be loathed to have one swim up her (ample) arse.

Reader take note, this may be important later.

Back on board The Quest everyone sits down for a quick Pot Noodle whilst Dameia and general dogsbody Powell Ranger (Englund with shit facial hair and some ginger pubes glued to his head) perform a fairly shoddy autopsy on their fallen comrade and the body of some bloke they found in a cupboard.

Their findings?

Both men were killed by terror.

A probable galaxy full of it.

A Galaxy (minus the terror) yesterday.

After pudding and a glass of milk our motley band decide to have a better look around the planet, starting with a huge pyramid-like structure they singularly failed to notice earlier (well it was a wee bit foggy) and Ilvar feeling a bit left out splits everyone (with the exception of Trantor who's frankly barking and chef who's busy cooking brine for supper) into two teams.

Their mission: discover stuff.

To make it more exciting Ilvar offers first group to reach the summit the chance of winning a teddy bear.

Buffeted by the harsh winds and spooked by the scary synth sounds Ilvar, Dameia and Cabren are first to clamber up the structure (the others have stopped for a picnic at the bottom), discovering a series of slightly sexual looking holes jutting from the pyramids sides, poor Ilvar, stuck between a moustachioed stud and a strip queen, decides to exert his manliness by abseiling down one of these mysterious openings for a quick poke around.

Unfortunately it's him that gets a poking from a gaggle of rubbery (why thank you!) blood sucking tentacles.

"Laugh now!"

Shrugging their shoulders in a fairly apathetic manner before moving on, Dameia and Cabren have soon met up with a still angry Baelon, a still whiny Alluma and always manboobed Quuhod at the pyramids summit where they find a set of giant plasticine doors that lead deep into the structures bowels.

Leaving Quuhod on guard at the entrance (frankly the stench of all that testosterone and sour man milk must be getting to them by now) the rest of the gang head down toward their destiny.

Which in Erin Moran's case is a lifetime of appearances at a number of supermarket openings, conventions and rehab centres.

Your mums cum face. Trust me, I know.

Back aboard the Quest, Ranger is having a severe case of the sweats and Kore skulks around the kitchen in a mysterious manner whilst Captain Trantor sits in the ships gun turret, dribbling down her jumper and playing space invaders whilst swearing like a pikey on heat.

No change there then.

Bored shitless to a point where he's cleaning his nails with the sacred boomerangs, Quuhod is surprised by a scary "BOO!" noise behind him, causing the poor sod to accidentally chop off his arm.

If that wasn't enough the severed arm takes on a life of its own and proceeds to stab it's previous owner to death with his own weapon.

Which is nice.

Hearing the commotion and upset that her breasts are too large to enable her to squeeze any further into the pyramid, Dameia rushes to Quuhod's aid only to stumble over his by now maggot riddle corpse lying in a pool of blood and piss.

Hang on, did someone say maggots?

"Put it in me!"

As Dameia tiptoes around her dead comrades corpse she (remarkably) fails to notice that one of the maggots has started growing to giant size behind her, only realizing that something's wrong when the beast flops down on top of her like a big inflatable penis and begins to tear her clothes off whilst thrusting and grunting the way that normal maggots don't.

What your girlfriend was up to on
that girls night out last week.

Vainly trying to escape by wriggling her slimy arse and rubbing her gloop covered breasts, Dameia is soon overpowered by the horny horror, breathing her last as the beast pumps her full of it's manky maggot muck.

Be honest, this is way too hypnotic for its own good.

At this point I have to say that as a twelve year old I was under the impression that this was quite possibly the greatest scene ever committed to celluloid but as I got older and more aware of political correctness and the evils of sexism I began to realize that this wasn't the case.

It's far too short for one thing.

And it's way too dark.

(stringy) shite in mah mooth!

This sex based slaying is only the beginning of the horror tho', as within minutes Trantor has accidentally set fire to her face, the cook has gone AWOL, bow-legged Baelon has been bummed by the bin men and poor old Alluma has been squeezed to death by some rampant, slime covered Hoover attachments leaving a by now shot to fuck Ranger and a fairly concerned Cabren the only survivors.

As the perky pair approach the pyramids inner sanctum, they begin to realize that their might be more to the mysterious planet Morganthus than meets the eye and leaves them wondering....

Where the fuck is the chef?

From the minds of writer/director Bruce Clark, little known designer James Cameron and the genius that was Roger Corman, Galaxy Of Terror maybe a cheap and nasty knock off with more aliases than a serial adulterer and be more likely to give you crabs than a sleepless night but it's still capable of entertaining you along the way.

Just like your mum in fact.

You can imagine the whole thing being greenlit on the strength of the poster alone and when Clark turned round to Corman and said "Then this huge maggot shags a naked bird to death" you just know it was a done deal.

But then any movie that features aliens, sex, gore and a former member of the Happy Days cast being squeezed to death by household appliances painted green should automatically be pushed thru' for immediate production, imagine how much better the world would be if this were the case.

As an added bonus it's great to sit back and enjoy self proclaimed "King of The World" James Cameron doing what he does best, that is operating a giant rape maggot as opposed to forcing badly plotted overlong remakes of Ferngully on us.

The scenes final moments when the huge quivering beast grunts and thrust one final time over O'Connell's prone form is at once incredibly arousing and mildly disturbing, you can imagine Cameron, teeth gritted and with a semi in his shorts sweating and cursing as he becomes one with the monster costume, imagining himself fucking every last dollar out of the worldwide cinema audience.

Or is that just me?

O'Connell: you would.

As you can probably tell, I secretly love Galaxy Of Terror in the same way as you always have a soft spot for that plump, middle aged housewife you got in touch with via those sleazy 'contact' magazines you purchased as a bet when you were fourteen.

You remember, the one from Edgebaston that made you a man then gave you tea,d biscuits and a cuddle whilst telling you about her disabled husband?

Galaxy Of Terror, scarier than your dad, sleazier than your little sister and a damn sight more fun drunk than both of them.

You need this.

And the cult movie genre needs more guys like Roger Corman.