warlock homes.

Bizarrely getting ready for a weekend of quality horror films by watching a few quality horror films.

 I really have no social life do I?

Anyway today's story opens in an - amateurishly lit - school corridor with sound recording that appears to have been done in - and on - an eggbox where an unnamed girl (Zerrienis...bless you) is wandering around in a tiny skirt whilst clutching the worlds brightest candle before being brutally slain by a weirdy beardy with an axe.


And cue spooky music cos it's time for.....


Warlock Moon (1973).
Dir: William Herbert.
Cast:  Laurie Walters, Joe Spano, Edna MacAfee, Harry Bauer, Joan Zerrien, Charles Raino, Ray K. Goman, Steve Solinsky and Richard Vielle.

"It's an old family recipe. I call it hunter's stew. It'd spoil all the fun if I told you how I made it."

Cutesy college student Jenny Macallister (The 'Slim, pretty, and appealing' Walters - well that's how IMDB describes her - who once appeared in a bathtub with Don Johnson in “The Harrad Experiment”, they were both naked fact fans) is wandering the campus minding her own business after spending a busy morning studying deviance's such as homosexuality and cannibalism when she's approached by an bowl-haircutted wannabe newshound wearing a creepy mask and a flasher mac named John (Spano from top TV tec trailblazer Hill Street Blues looking for all the world like John Amplas with a Greggs fetish).

By the way I mean he's named John, not the coat.

Following her around campus - in a totally non-freaky way obviously - whilst regaling her with amusing jokes in a variety of comedy accents is enough to wear her down enough to accept a picnic date with him and the pair are soon driving off thru' the countryside ready for a slap up feast of egg sandwiches, fizzy pop and pickled onion Monster Munch.

He's a smooth operator and no mistaking.

"Do you wanna come sit in me motor so I can bite you?"

After a lovely afternoon snacking n' chatting and being stuffed to the gills and drunk on fun the pair decide to call it a day and head home but a wrong turn leads them to an eerie old rundown spa.

As in a health club cum holiday camp, not the supermarket.

Which is actually spelled differently.

Anyway being a horror movie they decide to explore it.

As they wander thru' the dilapidated buildings they soon come across (in a non-sexual way obviously) an old woman by the name of Agnes Abercrombi (creator of that anti-virus software and star of Dirty Mary Crazy Larry, MacAfee) who still lives in the abandoned spa.

Sounds legit.

Not you.

 

Being a total and utter not at all sinister old lady, she invites the young couple to stay for tea and biscuits but as soon as Jenny takes a sip she begins to feel unwell and has to lie down, leaving John and Agnes to take the tour of the building alone whilst the poor girl lounges on the sofa, grabbing her tummy and farting.

Which if I'm honest sounds like a normal night in.

As the pair rummage around in the old ladies rooms Jenny amuses herself by cheekily rifling thru' Agnes' drawers where she discovers a shed load - well drawer load - of medical paraphernalia including syringes and vials of 'special' medicine.

Which is nice.

As she continues raking thru' a strangers possessions (and a stranger that's been dead nice to her seeing as she was caught wandering around her house, how's that for grateful?) Jenny is suddenly shocked - well as suddenly shocked as a very thin person can be -  to see the ghostly apparition of a woman in a wedding dress float passed the window below.

"Would you like to put it in me?"

Say what you want about the overall quality of this movie (yup, it's crap) but they're not skimping on the plot points.

Despite all the weirdness going down, John manages to persuade her to return the next week as his editor thinks an interview with dear old Agnes might be of some enjoyment to the readers.

Or at the very least some - tasteful - snatch shots.

Say what you want about John's fright-fright and piggy eyes, his persuasive pulling powers are second to none so I reckon he could convince her.
 
Arriving before him (hey he let the lady come first, what a guy) Jenny decides to go and find Agnes but is surprised that there's no sign old woman or of any of her belongings.

Even the faint smell of piss and gin has gone.

Suddenly an old man with a shotgun pops out from behind a tree and introduces himself, he's local postman cum part-time hunter Bernard Sexington (Bauer, I can't be arsed checking if he was in owt else sorry) who - in a stunning infodump -  informs Jenny that the resort was closed down in the 1930s in tragic circumstances.

It seems that the owners had decided to host a ball for their newly married daughter but she went missing just before the party.

Presuming that she was away having 'the sex; with her new hubbie the guests started the party without her and proceeded to enjoy the slap up nosh served by the (female) chef.

It was only much later (well around the cheese board) that everyone realised that the chef was in fact a mentalist who had killed the bride and used her body as part of the main course.

Obviously they didn't eat her whole as they spat that bit out.

I thank you.

Noticing how upset the story makes Jenny he decides to tell her it's all bollocks, bids his farewells and leaves.

Only to be killed by a mad axeman a few minutes later safe in the knowledge that his job of filling in the backstory of the spa is done.

"Blood in mah mooth!"

 Jenny misses all of this tho' as she's finally found John and Agnes who has reappeared alongside all her stuff.

 Confused by this and after John convinces her that she's imagining things Jenny meekly sits down for a cup of Mrs. Abercrombi's tea,  only to start feeling a wee bit woozy again almost immediately after.

Hmmmmm.

As John and Agnes retire to the garden to conduct the interview Jenny suddenly hears the spooky voice of the ghostly bride calling to her, she follows and is led  to a room with a creepy sacrificial altar laid out in its centre.

You know, just like the one in your Auntie Jean's basement.

That's not all tho' for as she's examining it closer who should appear but the scary bearded bloke form earlier, swinging his mighty chopper around with gay abandon as he tries to stick it in poor Jenny.

Much chasing ensues and what sounds like the noise of a tortured cat is played on the soundtrack before Jenny - being a mere girl - faints.

Inside Prince Andrew's mind.

 Mrs. Abercrombi and John soon find her tho' (well it is nearly the end of the film) and are shocked to hear that there's a mad bloke running around killing folk but when they go to investigate there's no sign of anyone else around.

Jenny tho' is convinced but both Agnes and John put it down to her feeling unwell, insisting that the best thing for her is to stay overnight in Mrs Abercrombi's house.

But first it's time for dinner.

And another cup of her sweet smelling tea......

From writer/director/producer William Herbert comes this little seen lo-fi classic of creepy cults and cannibalism that belays it's pound shop roots with some (slightly over the) toptastic performances and a general air of menace not usually found in what would normally be the bottom half of a drive-in double bill.

And whilst it is admittedly  a wee bit shaky at times with sound quality verging  on the indecipherable the performances from the leads pull it back from the brink and make it such a joy to watch with some great (semi) improvised stuff that's as hypnotic as it is bizarre.

Take for instance the scene where John - in an attempt to woo Jenny - performs a one-man horror movie of the mind where he plays both monster and hero, defeating himself before planting a kiss on Jenny's lips and then, without warning flips again as he menacingly stalks Jenny armed with nothing but a big stick and a scary stare.

On paper this sounds ludicrous whereas on screen it's electrifying.

Your Nan's cum face (trust me I know).

Also worth the admission price is Edna MacAfee's almost Warholian non-performance as Agnes Abercrombi.

All pursed lips and pinched cheeks it's almost as if they just plucked a mad bag lady off the streets and let her loose.

Similar in ideas - if not in execution - to it's - slightly - more famous contemporary 'Folks At Red Wolf Inn' (release a year earlier), Warlock Moon straddles that fine line 'tween B movie drive-in fodder like Blood Feast and the oncoming storm of cinema-verite violence ushered in by the likes of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and it's influence can be seen everywhere from the Ti West Classic House of The Devil to most of Rob Zombies output.

Which is a shame but there you go.

Well worth a looksie.

just because....

Jill Bryson from Strawberry Switchblade.

hand shandy.

Had an email saying that my countdown to The Rise of Skywalker reviews were tenuous at least and really badly written at best so they wondered if I'd just stop.

Which was nice.

As an aside they also asked if I'd ever reviewed Black Candles* so thought I'd take a look thru' the archives - tho' why they couldn't search for it I've no idea....what is this a library?

So did a quick search and bizarrely this popped up instead.

Checking it seems that only 3 folk have ever read it which is sad really.

Or a sign of good taste.

Who knows?


Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966)
Dir: Harold P. Warren.
Cast: Tom Neyman, John Reynolds, Diane Mahree, Harold P. Warren, Stephanie Nielson, Sherry Proctor, Robin Redd, Jackey Neyman, Bernie Rosenblum, Joyce Molleur and William Bryan Jennings.

"Manos, God of primal darkness. As thou has decreed so have I done. The hands of fate have doomed this man. Thy will is done".

The somewhat sickening Felcher family; dad Michael (writer, director, actor, spy, salesman and inventor Warren), mum Margaret (Mahree - bless you), Hellish girl child Debbie (Curse of Bigfoot star and only person to be paid for the movie, Neyman) and the family dog, Peppy are heading for a well deserved (if arse-numbingly dubbed) holiday at Butlins in Skegness.

So far so so.

Luck (and let's be honest looks) obviously aren't on their side tho', as not only are they stopped by the police due to a cracked tail-light but also get lost somewhere near the A1 turn off to Smethwick.

Smethwick, twinned with your gran.

Bored, cold and tired, Michael and his family decide to pull over at a the first house they come across to ask directions.

But being Smethwick, there aren't any houses as we know them, just a few broken down sheds and a burnt out Burger king.

Oh and a car on bricks with the words 'GRASS' sprayed down the side in excrement.

Finally, just as their hope of finding any signs of civilization is fading the family reach a rickety old house looked after by a big hatted, bow legged backward arsed butler named Torgo (Reynolds, allegedly wearing a home-made bondage suit to aid his performance), who, as it happens is house-sitting for "The Master" (no not that one) whilst he's away on business.

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

Repulsed yet oh so slightly aroused by the smell of boiled onions permeating thru' Togo's beard, Michael and Margaret ask him for directions to Butlins; Torgo simply (and stiffly) replies that "There's no way out of here....It'll be dark soon...." 

Spooky.

Michael, totally nonplussed by the terrifying Torgo and his trampy beard demands that he and his family be allowed to stay the night and orders Torgo to fetch their belongings from the car.

Being a woman Margaret's concerns go unheard by her husband who's too busy booting Torgo up the arse as he attempts to balance a variety of cases on his hips.

Once inside, the family are disturbed to see that there are not only a distinct lack of carpets but that the walls are crammed full of pound shop voodoo shite with a child’s finger painting of a dark eyed, grey skinned moustachioed man and his anorexic greyhound as a stunning centrepiece.

The man it depicts is The Master.

The dog, well that's just a dog.

I've spunked prettier things.

When an amusingly scratched sound effect of a wolf howling puts the willies up poor Margaret and sends lil' Peppy running outside, macho Michael decides to investigate.

Grabbing a flashlight - tho' a fleshlight would probably be more appropriate for a pile of wank this big - and revolver from his car he wanders around in the dark (making sure not to step off the set obviously) before finding Peppy, by now cunningly played by an old coat lying dead in the desert dust.

Back at the house Torgo is busying (and arousing) himself by rubbing his legs and attempting to stroke Margaret's hair as he admits undying love for her, warning our moaning faced MiLF that she is doomed to become a bride of The Master, tho' Torgo wants her for himself.

 Dirty boy.

Obviously offended at only being able to pull square faced bores and bandy legged bums Margaret threatens to tell Michael about Torgo's frankly ludicrous seduction attempts but our bearded buddy convinces her to stay quiet by promising to protect her from stuff.

Look the script isn't that specific so why should I be?

Luckily for all concerned Michael re-enters the scene at this point with some bad news.

And it's not that the film is almost over.

It seems that on his travels he's discovered that not only is the dog dead but the car has broken down and little Debbie has wandered off.

Good news tho' is that the local Tapas bar still has tables available.

Unfortunately there isn't a phone in the house to ring for a reservation so with great reluctance the family decide to stay the night, if only to find out where Debbie has gone.

 Which is nice.

Tunnel or funnel?

Worry not dear readers, Debbie is only outside playing with the devilish greyhound from the painting.

Let's be honest tho' it's not like anyone would've abducted her anyway seeing as she has a face that would make a horse sick, I mean any pervy pedo that could maintain anything remotely like an erection around her would deserve a medal.

But I digress.

Unlike the director obviously who seems to be under the impression that the film doesn't have enough stilted, dialogue free scenes of badly made up (and in some cases just plain ugly) actors staring at each other for no reason than to highlight the many continuity mistakes on show.

Make it stop.

Or at least get a wee bit interesting.

Please.

Debbie: Not even With Jonathan King's.

Which after what seems like an eternity it actually does with the arrival of The Master himself (Neyman, unfortunate father of the fearful she-child Jackey, actual owner of the featured greyhound and the man who painted the portrait mentioned earlier...so many jobs so little talent) who is first seen sleeping in a barn surrounded by several ex-strippers clad in translucent dresses and oversized girdles.

Without warning Torgo ties Michael to a handy pole as The Master and his many 'wives' suddenly spring to life before indulging in a short (yet downright bizarre) argument over what to do with the Felcher family.

Is it just me or would you assume that a secret polygamous devil cult would already have contingency plans in place for such an event?

Batman: the mooth shite-in years.

Anyway, The Master (still not that one) after a wee pause decides to sacrifice Torgo and his first wife Mavis to the evil God of facial hair (and hands) Manos before taking Margaret and (ye gods no) Debbie as his new wives.

With this decision The Master makes his farewells and heads off for a power shower and a poo, leaving his wives to engage in some impromptu wrestling.

Phwoar! Wahey! etc.

Upon his return and using a potent post poo hypnotic spell The Master stops the fight before ordering his minions (not those ones) to tie Mavis to the pole in order to be sacrificed whilst Torgo awaits his fate from a handy stone bed.

And what a fate it is, as the remaining wives jump on the poor sod and pretend to eat him before The Master, using his mysterious hairy lipped powers severs Torgo's hand before setting fire to it.

Or at least to a crudely made wax replica.

Torgo, hoping to still be around for the planned sequel (seriously) escapes into the darkness, waving his burning stump as he goes whilst The Master laughs uncomfortably as he sinisterly approaches his first wife.

Whilst all this burning, blundering and back stabbing is going down, Michael and family have managed to barricade themselves into the pantry in the hope of either hiding till morning or that The Master might get bored.

But alas, The Master is a, um, past master at hide and seek (and from what I've heard the double entry) and he's soon looming over the family, a tin of peaches in one hand and a corncob in the other confronting Michael.

Being a true American tho' Michael has no time (or concept of) conversation and promptly empties his weapon into The Master's face at point-blank range but alas to no avail.

The screen fades to black.

The viewer loses the will to live.

And bladder control.

Jamiroquai, up the casino, Tenby, 1997....Yesch!

Time passes and much, much later two more travelers arrive at the house to be greeted by Michael, clad in Torgo's shit stained suit and 'kiss me quick' hat.

Her turns to camera and says - well someone does and from the dubbing it ain't him - "I take care of the place while the Master is away."

And so it goes.

Let us, dear reader, travel back in time to the mid 60's and to El Paso, Texas, where Hal Warren, manager of the American Founder's Life Insurance Co. came across (tho' not in a sexual way) famed screenwriter Stirling (In the Heat of the Night, The Towering Inferno, The Poseidon Adventure, Shaft in Africa and The Swarm amongst others) Silliphant, who was visiting the town to scout out film locations.

After several meetings (and even more booze), Warren decided that this movie making lark seemed a piece of piss and after a few more drinks reckoned he could do as good a job himself.

Within a week he had a script (The Lodge of Sins), a few boyscouts to be his crew and the local theatre group, alongside and a few 'hand' models to be his cast.

Armed with a third hand 16mm Bell and Howell silent camera, a garden shed, some Hula Hoops and 60 Woodbines a legend was born.

The 16mm Bell & Howell silent camera: Witness to more porn and real life atrocities than your granddad during the war.

Shot within 4 hours, edited in 2 and dubbed over a quiet Bank Holiday weekend, Manos (as it was now known) premièred at the El Paso Odeon on 15 November 1966 to non-stop audience laughter and howls of derision that prompted a shell shocked cast and crew to escape from the cinema via underground tunnels dug during the interval.

A chilling footnote to this is that the cleaning woman who's job it was to bin the Coke cups and burito packets after the show discovered that the audience had laughed so much that over 13000 gallons of piss had been unwittingly released into the main auditorium causing the cinema to collapse killing 47 people and spraying urine into the local fields, killing farmer Morton J Blithe's prized heard of bullocks as well as his lame son, 12 year old Morton Jnr, who was found drowned in a gully 2 weeks later.

Lying on it's back stinking of piss....and no it's not your mum surprisingly.

But forget the tales of deaths, suicide and heartache for a moment and just concentrate on the movie then ask yourself; Is it really the worst movie ever made or some proto-Lynchian work of subgenius trading on mans darkest fears as witnessed thru' the prism of Barthesian semiotics?

I mean you have to admit that certain aspects of the film invoke both intertextuality and Bertolt Brecht's theories of estrangement to explore the metafictional or parodic aspects of the idea of polygamy (or polygyny as is truer the case here).

Possibly.

Diane Mahree: Barthesian semiotics or terrifying tit wank?

And to all those naysayers, yes the editing is abysmal, the myriad of continuity flaws are an abomination to modern cinema and yes the soundtrack and visuals are so out of synchronization as to lead us to believe that they are being beamed from different parts of the world.

But surely, a friend of mine once asked of Manos; if viewing the film thru' the lens of intertextuality, taking onboard Freud's idea that the repression of fear and desire is the main cause of 'dream work' then the film's seriously tedious pacing, frankly terrifying non acting and  inexplicable inclusion of scenes and characters either disconnected or totally redundant from the actual plot begins to make sense.

Or does it?

Manos: The Hands of Fate: good shit or bad shit?

Who really cares tho' because when you get around to it a shit is still a shit and either way it's still gonna stink your house out.

Which, if I'm honest is fairly profound for this blog.

Be seeing you.






























*I've been informed by my solicitors to add that I did in fact receive a phone call this week from longtime reader Dissolved Paul informing me not to bother as it was utter shite.

As is the blog in general.

lost and found.

Found on a street in Glasgow, this cruelly discarded Aquaman sticker.

Look at the state of it, Jason Momoa will be spinning in his grave.

Minor superhero sticker abuse.

Together we can stamp it out.

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 84).

Jan Smithers AKA Bailey Quarters in WKRP in Cincinnati.

Ask your dad.

perry combover.

Too much sex and violence around here lately and not enough spaceships.

Well that was short and sweet.

Enjoy.

Mission Stardust (AKA …4 ..3 ..2 ..1 …Morte, Perry Rhodan – SOS aus dem Weltall. 1967).
Dir: Primo Zeglio.
Cast: Lang Jeffries, Essy Persson, Luis Dávila, John Karelson, Stefano Sibaldi, Janos Bartha, Gianni Rizzo, Pinkas Braun and Dakar.

"Your eyes are very quick... just like your hands!"

A group of top space-type blokes - the square-jawed Major Perry Rhodan ( Vengeance of the Gladiator, Mexican Slayride and La rivolta degli schiavi 'star' Jeffries - imagine a slightly more rapey but definitely less Autistic hating William Shatner), box-faced Captain Mike Bull (Dávila from Espionage in Tangiers), ball-bonced badboy Captain 'French' Flipper (Martín best known - possibly - for A Fistful of Dollars) and the not worthy of a first name Dr. Manoli (Mmm Bop singer Hansen) are heading to the moon aboard the top secret starship Stardust (which strangely enough appears to be disguised as a huge metallic cock and balls) on an even more top secret (topper secret?) mission. 

And the reason for the secrecy - but not the phallic stuff obviously?

Well it seems that scientists have discovered  deposits of a metal with an atomic density even greater than cobalt or lithium below the surface.

No me neither.

"Are we there yet?"

Unfortunately the evil - yet cuddly dog owning -  billionaire industrialist Alan 'Von' Arkin (Braun, best known around here for his slightly un-PC performance as Fing-Su in Der Fluch der gelben Schlange) has already discovered the facts regarding the mission and is busy plotting something or other.

To be honest I wasn't really paying attention.

Anyway back to the action where our heroes are having a wee bit of bother with their spaceship controls as they prepare for landing, that's not the only problem tho' as suddenly all communication with Earth is lost too.

Being rough, tough spacers tho' the crew somehow manage a safe landing,  Mike and Perry head off to explore in a huge white wheeled dildo whilst the doctor and Flipper stay behind to try and fix the rocket.

Well that bit of peril was over fairly quickly wasn't it?

Perry and Mike happily bounce across the moon's barren surface unaware that danger (or at least a wee bit of oddness) is lurking over the horizon - firstly the moon buggies aerial melts soon followed by the vehicle controls and when the pair step out of the vehicle to look for damage it suddenly disappears in a bright light (and dodgy dissolve)  before their very eyes.

To be honest tho' Perry seems pretty nonplussed by this and the pair continue on foot soon coming across a huge gold space-fairing testicle* parked in a nearby crater and guarded by a group of bucket headed robots.

If you're wondering how you fan tell that they're robots well the fact that they keep removing their helmets to reveal a pair of comedy chattering teeth and some googly eyes attached to a shoebox.

"We can't repel testicles of this magnitude!"

Upon seeing our heroic duo one of the robots zaps their sidearms into oblivion before leading the pair into an elevator that takes them up to the spaceships interior - and not the lingerie department obviously - where Perry and Mike are introduced to the clap riddled alien scientist Terry  'Falcon' Crest (Italian film stalwart Karlsen) and the shapely blonde bombshell Captain Thora (Actress cum visual artist cum haunter of my dreams Persson) who appears to be wearing seashells as a bra.

Well she is from outer space so who am I to judge?

No need yet every need at the same time....Why am I so confused?

As Thora stands around looking angry (or is it erotic? - angrily erotic? - bored? to be honest I could tell as I was way too busy trying to figure out what kind of shells she was sporting) Crest explains how they traveled from the highly advanced planet Baldpate to find another race to procreate with in order to save their race from extinction.

Unfortunately during a particularly intense game of space Ludo they crashed on the moon and are now stuck and with that the old bloke coughs a wee bit and stumbles into a chair because he's very poorly.

Which seems fair enough.

Obviously Perry offers to help (with the fixing of the ship and the whole repopulating the planet thing) so Crest uses his spooky alien technology to bring the Stardust closer as to allow Dr. Manoli to examine him and after a wee cough and drop explains that Crest has a special kind of leukemia that can only be treated by the world famous blood doctor Frank Haggard at his institute in Mombasa.

This is in no way a convoluted plot.

Honest.

But first Thora has to change her outfit so invites Perry into her quarters to watch her get undressed before complaining that his gropey sausage fingers prove he's a savage and therefore unworthy of sticking his engorged member in her space ladygarden.

Do you think she may change her mind before the films climax?

"Look at the dog!"

Anyway taking a reconnaissance ship (which to be honest is the same model just filmed far away) the gang head to Africa to find the doctor and hopefully score some cheap crack along the way as the film veers drunkenly from hip 'n' groovy space adventure to a cut-price Eurospy caper.

It's like Moonraker in reverse but with tighter trousers.

On the way to Earth tho' Perry realizes that the spacesuits don't have any pockets so none of them have any cash to buy postcards etc upon arrival but luckily as it turns out the aliens use diamonds as we would use paperclips so Thora hands a big bag full of them over to our heroes.

Result.

Obviously flying a fairly big gold bollock into African airspace attracts the attention of not just local comedy general Roon (Bartha) and his Dad's Army style goons but also of Arkin too who is still not bothering to explain his plan other than it will involve him taking over the world to anyone around him.

And that includes Fulci stalwart Dakar which is a nice surprise.

With Thora, who despite herself is beginning to fall for Perry, remaining onboard to oversee the mission Perry and Mike head off to fetch Haggard but as is the way in adventure films of this ilk the journey is anything but easy as the pair have to deal with a variety of evil used car salesmen and scary turbaned types trying to sell them young (or "Very young!" as he proclaims) girls.**

Most importantly tho' is the fact that Mike hasn't had a fag for three days so is getting grumpy.

No really.

Helmet.

With Arkin closing in and a traitor in their midst it's a race against time to find Haggard and save Crest's life before Arkin does that thing that we're still not sure about.

And to be honest it's not that fast a race as Crest seems pretty OK actually, I mean it's not like he's been given hours to live or anything.

But let's not worry too much about that as there's just enough time for some zero gravity fist fights, cardboard tank battles and sexy nurses with machine gun action as we quite leisurely head toward the movies climax which may also feature our heroes storm Arkin's island headquarters (offscreen obviously) whilst dressed as Devo.

From the man who brought us Slave Queen of Babylon, Capitan Fantasma and a dozen more films no-one has ever seen comes this frankly fantastic (if a wee bit threadbare) Italian/West German co-production based on the best-selling Perry Rhodan book series that was so beloved by my granddad - and for that reason alone there's a shedload of love for this movie.

Plus the fact that Essy Persson is utterly amazing and an obvious influence on Sofia Boutella's Jayla in Star Trek Beyond.

They even look and sound similar.

Simon Pegg we have questions.

Even thinking about it would be enough to finish you off.

 Based, in part, on the first book in the series 'Enterprise Stardust', Primo Zeglio's version (adapted by K.H. Vogelmann alongside Sergio Donati and Zeglio himself) jettisons much of author K. H. Scheer's cold war paranoia and replaces it with a standard runaround Bond style romp and shiny suits in a mish-mash of Modesty Blaise and Diabolik with a dash of Barbarella style psychedelia chucked in for good measure that is unfortunately neither as hip 'n' happening or knowingly camp as any of them with Zeglio seemingly unsure of how to shoot sci-fi he instead just points the camera at stuff and hopes for the best which means the film at least picks up pace when it crash lands back to an Earth setting.

And it's on Earth that the film - and director - seems more comfortable as it mines the James Bond series for inspiration with the dog-loving, tuxedo clad baddie Arkin acting as a surrogate Blofeld and Rhodan getting involved with various traitors, crime bosses and gun-toting sexy nurses in gas masks and tiny skirts.

Which is nice.

Plus there are gadgets galore courtesy of Thora who, despite being a cold-hearted alien who sees humans as primitives you just know will eventually fall for Rhodans charms.

Which just goes to show how talented model-cum-erotic actress-cum-artist Essy Persson actually is seeing as Lang Jeffries is about as charismatic as a house brick.

Which on a positive note means there's hope for us all.

Peow!

Interestingly (well to anyone who reads this blog) the films 'stunning' special effects were directed by the late great Antonio (Cannibal Apocalypse) Margheriti in what can only be seen as one of his lean periods tho' fans of cardboard and dustbins won't be disappointed.

Plus the score from the groove-tastic Marcello Giombini & Antón García Abril - especially the theme as sung by frequent Ennio Morricone collaborator Edda Dell'Orso - is a blinder.

Screw the haters Mission Stardust is well worth a look.


























































*Or is it a giant gold bust of Star Wars favourite Admiral Ackbar's head?

Either way it could be a trap.

**By the way and as an aside, from the soundtrack, the extras outfits and general look of the place I'm pretty sure no-one involved in the movie has ever been to Mombasa but has seen someones Egyptian holiday snaps.