romay holiday.

With still no fucking idea when we're meant to be moving or where to (Unwell Towers is currently collapsing due to being built on an ancient Etruscan burial ground) we appear to be stuck in a nightmarish loop of boxing and binning whilst the youngest of our brood has taken to removing everything from the boxes as we go before stashing it in a 'safe space'.
 

Anyway I just picked this up from behind his bed and he insisted it was his second favourite film ever (just behind the original King Kong) so guess how I've spent Father's Day?

Enjoy.

Les Amazones du Temple D'or (AKA Golden Temple Amazons, Amazons in the Temple of Gold, 1986).
Dir: Alain Payet (AKA James Gartner - yet credited to good old Jess Franco overseas).
Cast: J. R. Gossart, Analía Ivars, William Berger, Antonio Mayans, Stanley Kapoul, Olivier Mathot, Eva León* and Lina Romay.

“ I'm Rena and I will enjoy playing with you!”

Somewhere in the steaming hot jungles of the Amazon (or more likely the park behind the directors house) the sweaty, mouse like missionary Tom Godly (Bra maker Gossart) is surprised one morning whilst on his way to convert the natives when he comes across - stop it - a secret cave hidden in the mysterious Blue Mountains (no, not the ones from that Laurel and Hardy film) that is filled to bursting with large quantities of gold.

Returning to his jungle pad as fast as his skinny Christian legs can carry him and with his pockets bulging with a dozen or so Ferrero Rocher sized nuggets he excitedly tells his fright haired, tombstone toothed wife Greta (Franco's missis Romay in a scarily non-naked film role) that because they are now rich enough that they can give up this Holy lark and retire to Ibiza.

Cagney And Lacey: The Pikey Years.

What he hasn't realized, however is that the cave is in fact a holy golden temple belonging to the local tribe of topless, gold pants wearing Amazon warriors, feared amongst the locals and ruled with a rod of iron by their scary leader Stan Uruk (Berger from The Winds of War).

Well, it's an easy mistake to make.

These bewigged and busty warrior women, discovering that they've been robbed, follow Tom back home, demanding that he give them back the booty or else.

Tom chooses 'or else' much to the chagrin of their evil leader who being one of those guys that justifies every single one of his frankly bonkers - and often violent -  actions with some kinda religion reason (as is the way of these types), not too surprising kills poor old Tom and Greta in a hail of poison arrows and slow motion yelling, leaving their young daughter Liana (fish lipped Franco regular Ivars) to fend for herself in this hostile tropical hell.

Or Govan as we call it up here.

Luckily a friendly monkey and a local tribe take pity on her and help her out which is sweet in a kinda Disney way.

"Fiona! where's mah lunch?"

Jump forward a few years and the church have finally decided to send a new missionary (who scarily is the spitting image of Father Ted, not as he looks now obviously seeing as he's been dead about 20 years but you know what I mean) to discover what happened to Tom and Linda.

Better late than never I suppose.

Arriving at their dilapidated cabin he's surprised (there's a lot of it in this movie) to find Liana still living there in all her grown up glory, complete with a faintly embarrassing bubble perm and dressed in skimpy animal skins but luckily still resembling a startled haddock.

Despite being nubile and (half) naked, the missionary has no interest in Liana (well, she's not a wee boy) so he decides instead to read her fathers diary aloud, which as luck (or really atrocious plotting) would have it, conveniently explains all about the gold and her parents subsequent murder.

Which really begs the question as to why, after being run thru' with loads of arrows, he decided to write about it rather than raid the medicine drawer for aspirin or at very least a plaster.

"My dad told me about those cults.
People dressing up in black
and saying Our Lord's going to
come back and save us all".
"No, Liana, that's us. That's Catholicism".
"Oh right".

Upon hearing of her parents fate - she must have been busy when it happened, either that or she has the memory, as well as the looks, of a fish - Liana vows to have her revenge upon the evil Amazon women (and scary Stan) and immediately sets off towards the Blue Mountains, accompanied by her faithful pet chimp Rocky (himself) and a funny tribesman named Koukou (Kapoul from the Andrea - Nights of Terror - Bianchi classic Maniac Killer).

It's going to be a long film.

Cue an endless nightmare of stock footage animals, Liana's breasts bouncing in slow motion and random shots of a monkey grinning like a loon for what seems like days.

Which is all well and good if you like that sort of thing but not too exciting if you enjoy interesting characters exchanging meaningful dialogue.

All that may be about to change tho' as our terrific trio come across (not literally, tho' in this case it might have been fun to see) a group of explorers out searching for the Golden Temple.

And one of them is played by Emilio Linder!

Now that makes all the difference.

"Laugh Now!"

Anyway back to the plot where I can safely say without fear of spoiling it for those who've yet to see it but they all get to the cave unharmed (and with nay hair out of place or slips of nipple) and with no sense of jeopardy or danger whatsoever.

Tho' this may be to lull us into a false sense of security (or a coma) seeing as soon as they set foot in the cave our motley band are almost instantly rendered unconscious by Stan's eggy fart gas and imprisoned by the Amazon women ready to be used as slave labour in Uruk's secret gold mines.

Or was that The Chuckle Brothers secret lemonade factory?

Little Mix number one for Christmas....MONSTA!

None of these questions will be answered however as there are  more important things afoot, like overly long and totally random scenes of topless ladies in tiny gold pants sword fighting under the watchful (and lustful) gaze of the bequiffed and eyepatched Rina (the frankly magnificent León, best known around here for her top rendition of the top pop tune Una Mujer on the TeeVee show El Hotel de las Mil y Una Estrellas and a woman whose performance alone raises this film to genius level if I'm honest.).

It seems that Rina is a tad upset at Liana turning up and wants her out of the way just in case there's any chance of Uruk choosing our haddock-faced chum as his successor instead.

Luckily Rina has a cunning plan to rid herself of Liana that involves smearing blood on her (stunning) breasts in extreme close up whilst licking soot off various stoned wannabe starlets.

Which is nice work if you can get it.

Or just deeply tragic when you realise that this is the high point of the film.

Anyway, will our heroes escape?

And does anyone (except the investors) really care?

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

Aaah, you can't beat a wee bit of Jess Franco, the late great pensioner perv of quality Eurotrash, unfortunately tho' in this case he only seemed to be on hand to film the fleeting nude scenes (oh and his missis) which means that the usual Franco trademarks - sexy European girls with massive bushes writhing around on knock-off Ikea sofa beds whilst his other half licks tomato sauce of their thighs are all missing, replaced with director Payet's trademark 'point the camera randomly and hope something interesting happens' technique that he honed on such classics as Hitler's Last Train, Captive Women 5: Mistresses of the 3rd Reich, Confessions très intimes d'une petite fille and French Erection.

Eva León: Ask your granddad.

Luckily for us tho' he left his infamous Nazi porn chic obsessions at home this time, which would be OK if he'd at least attempted to add something (anything) else to the film other than a deep depressing hole that radiates out from the screen and into the pit of your stomach.

But why was Franco involved I hear you cry.

Rumor has it that he was just passing by the studio with his shopping one day and popped his head around the door to say hi.

But I like to think that maybe he was on holiday near the location and just stumbled across them filming.

Which would explain a lot.

Except that is why the whole thing look like a nursery school version of Raiders of The Lost Ark, albeit one with loads of wobbly breasts and some sporadic scenes of mindless violence.

Mumbled dubbing, a tinny synth score, a human/cod hybrid in a fur bikini and overlong slo-mo shots of topless women on horseback all add up to the celluloid equivalent of anal warts, just slightly more embarrassing to admit to having let alone enjoying.

I should start a support group.
































*Not this one:

solar power!

 

 Now that Doctor Who has finally bitten the dust how about rebooting this for Saturday nights?

 

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!

 

 

french letter.

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

By the director of Cannibal Holocaust that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The swines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Answers to the usual email address please.

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

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

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

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

The pair decide to investigate.

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

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

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

Even if it involves murder.

Which by this point it does.

Obviously.

Water in mah mooth!

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

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

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

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

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

It never rains.

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

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

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

Guess which plan he plumbs for.

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

How's your luck?

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

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

You're welcome.

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

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

Phew.

Heading to the United States Consul demands an investigation.

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

Which is nice if a little extreme.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then again I have eyes.

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

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

But we all knew that anyway.

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

No?

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

Just a thought.

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

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

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

Thinking about it any plot twist would be appreciated.

Or just a half decent plot in general.

Dollar: The porn years.

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

Scoundrels.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So there you go.

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

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

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

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

Will Concorde crash into the ocean?

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

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

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

Who knows?

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

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

And you can't really blame him.

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

And all to a brilliant Stelvio Cipriani's score.

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

"Is it in yet?"

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

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

Sorry, paying homage to.

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