she-it.

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underground barmey.

URBEX: Urban Explorer (AKA Urban Explorers, 2011).
Dir: Andy Fetscher.
Cast: Nathalie Kelley, Nick Eversman, Max Riemelt, Catherine de Lean, Brenda Koo and Klaus Stiglmeier.

Enjoying a weekend break in Berlin with his exotic girlfriend Lucia (Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift's Kelley looking for all the world like a dirtier Vanessa Hudgens), swoonsome Denis (Eversman from, gulp Hellraiser: Revelations but don't hold that against him.) decides it'd be a laugh to go exploring in the tunnels and tracks below the city.

Well it beats a traditional German sausage fest I guess.

Hooking up with the hip, Euro-trousered guide Kris (Riemelt from teevee's Schandmal - Der Tote im Berg) as well as the fairly exotic but not as exotic as Lucia, bowl-haired, button nosed bisexual French hottie Marie (Twice a Woman's de Lean) and the totally exotic - well she is from Korea - Juna (teevee stalwart Koo), our below ground buddies are soon armed with torches and ready for the big adventure.

Our heroes exploring the beauty spots of the West Midlands.

Kris' big selling point for our thrill seeking tourists isn't just the chance to smell the shit and chase the rats around Berlin's sewer system but to explore a once top secret Nazi bunker.

A top secret Nazi bunker resplendent with murals depicting hunky Aryan soldiers, milk maids and other such trouser stirring stuff.

It seems that the aforementioned bunker was recently rediscovered before being hastily resealed by the authorities, just in case groups of mad as lorry Neo-Nazi types decide to go visit.

Pretty sensible really, seeing as you wouldn't want a load of interestingly scarved, blue haired arseholes with no sense of history ruining the tourist spots for everyone else.

Probably.

Beware! The bin men cometh.

Anyway, as they make their way toward the bunker, dodging dog owning drug dealers and slippery eels, Kris is happy to scare the shite out of the group with tales of the spooky ''Odin People"; a group of pagan worshiping genetic super soldiers (better known historically as The Thule Society) bred to take their place amongst the gods as part of a Nazi space programme.

Unfortunately Germany ended up as runners up in World War II so it was decided that the best option would be to bury these Buck Rogers wannabes underground and hope no-one found them.

Truth my friends?

Or bollocks?

"...What does that graffiti say? something like M. Khan is bent..."

Luckily our group arrive intact and spend the next hour admiring the artwork, drinking tea from tin cups and in Marie and Juna's case having a wee bit of the lesbian sexual shenanigans.

Unfortunately this bit is off-screen.

And not even on the DVD as a deleted scene.

Bah.

Anyway with everyone happy and Kris looking forward to getting paid the merry band of explorers head back to the surface.

Marie tho' being one of those annoying photography types can't help but take a pic of Kris as he's crossing a narrow ledge causing him to fall down a hole, badly bruising his coccyx and tearing his new shirt.

Luckily for Kris (and the plot) Lucia is a nurse meaning that she can stay with Denis and look after our wounded chum whilst Juna and Marie can head back to the surface for help.

Oh yeah, and it conveniently splits the group up therefore doubling their (and our) fright factor.

Nice work Mr. Fetscher.

"Can you smell petrol?" Marie farted and it smelled of shame.

With the girls stumbling around blindly in the dark, Lucia is getting concerned for Kris' health.

If they don't get help soon he may die.

But worse of all the mud stain may not come out of his shirt.

Even at 60 degrees.

Suddenly out of the blue (well out of the tunnels but you know what I mean) comes the hulking form of Jeff Armin (Stiglmeier from Werner Herzog's Invincible), a fish bearded, horse toothed, former border control agent who lives in a converted bunker about ten minutes walk away.

Pulling a stretcher from his back pocket he quickly organises getting Kris back to his humble abode where from he promises to ring the police.

What a nice man.

John Bishop's let himself go.

Quickly arriving back at Armin's pad, Kris is put to bed and our loved up duo are offered a hot meal where they get to hear all kinds of amusing anecdotes regarding Armin's career, his 'special' training and the fact that he still believes that the divide between East and West Germany exists.

Oh, and the fact that he's a rampant mentalist who may (or may not) have just fed his guests what could be the remains of a few other urban explorers he just happened across earlier.

There's no time to act tho' as suddenly (and without so much as a laugh now) Armin has drugged Denis and thrown him in a cupboard, leaving  Lucia, alone and caked in mud and sweat to be entertained by our toothsome terror.

Will Denis wake up in time to rescue Lucia from Armin's embarrassingly un-PC after dinner chat?

Will Kris get paid?

and where the fuck are Juna and Marie?

What's this?

Another good movie finding it's way into 31 days of horror?

I remember seeing this on release and expecting something forgettably shite (the box does compare it to Creep* which is a bit like a babysitter comparing herself to Kate McCann) so I was pleasantly surprised to find that the multi-talented Fetscher has delivered an intelligently plotted and unnervingly unpredictable little thriller, tightly scripted and brought to life by a top group of likeable and convincing actors.

No really.

They're all smiles now but just wait till the arse banditary starts.

Avoiding the temptation to go for balls to the wall gore, Herr Fetscher carefully builds a feeling of unease and suspense before releasing any violence in short sharp - and realistic - bursts making the movie less a Hostel wannabe (tho' why anything would want to aspire to that is beyond me) and more of an underground Deliverance.

Sexy European girl with a hot mug of tea? Check! Can life get any better?

As opposed to Underground Ernie obviously.















































*Not this one.

devil may care.

Well it's the first of April today meaning it's been a mad Bank Holiday weekend of clocks in the UK jumping forward an hour whilst simultaneously hurtling back to the 1950s in Scotland with the implementation of our utterly fantastic and in no way sinister and open to abuse Hate Crime law.

Seriously, screw the political implications as just on an abuse of grammar level this blog is fucked.

Saying that tho' maybe if I identify as a serious film blog I should be OK?

Definitely not

Humza Yousaf earlier today.

Anyway, no idea why but I reckoned this film just about summed up the whole sorry, shitshow that is modern society right now.

Enjoy.

 
Devil Story (1985).
Dir: Bernard Launois.
Cast: Véronique Renaud, Marcel Portier, Catherine Day, Nicole Desailly, Pascal Simon and a horse.

Tho' to be honest none of this matters seeing as none of them ever worked again outside the fast food industry.

'Screw that Mummy.... what I want is that goddamn horse!'

They say that you should always start as you mean to go on and the folk in charge here seem to agree seeing as the entire first 10 minutes of the movie seems to be made up of nothing but some poor bloke (Simon in his only film role who, I must add looks absolutely nothing like a certain Green Party minister with the initials PH, no not at all) clad in a comedy tramp mask from the pound shop, his sister's jodhpurs and an old SS jacket bombing around a kids play park pretending to stab people.

Seriously it's like a Saturday afternoon in Birmingham.

Only without the overbearing stench of fish obviously.

Firstly chibbing a man in a tent before stalking his unfortunate companion - who is busy skipping thru' the woods carrying a pile of wood, a pile of wood which it must be said will scarily give the best performance in the whole film - and then slashing her (admittedly harsh) face in a masterstroke of make-up effects which involves her being attacked with her back to the camera before clumsily turning around to reveal bloody make-up that had already been applied.

By a hook handed child.

Who is also legally blind.

Viewers of a nervous disposition (or with any taste) should turn off now tho' as the killing spree has only just begun as in a scene of bizarro fourth wall breaking bonkers who should turn up but the director himself accompanied by what I assume is his mum out for a leisurely drive in the country.

Unfortunately the fun is cut short when the car runs out of petrol meaning that the esteemed Mr Launois has to walk back to the nearest garage whilst grumpily shouting at his poor mother.

With all this ranting and raving going on he spectacularly fails to see wee Paddy Baw-heid crouching behind a roadside statue waiting to pounce.

Just as our dumpy director is walking by Paddy jumps out and starts growling whilst waving his arms about.

With a look of total disinterest Launois calmly asks him the way to the garage.

As you would when confronted by a gurning loon in a Nazi uniform.

You can guess what happens next.

Yup, Paddy stabs the man before stomping off and shooting Mrs Launois in the face.

And if that's not the state of Scottish politics in a nutshell I don't know what is.

"Laugh now!"

Anyway, with all those random killings out of the way - filmed it seems because when reviewing a first edit of the movie Launois realized he had less than an hour's worth of usable footage so got his pals together to shoot a whole new opening sequence - it's into the plot good and proper as we're introduced to some vacuous guy and his - even more vacuous - wife who are currently enjoying a nice drive in the country.

As far as I remember - to be honest by this point I was drunk - neither of them have names tho' I've since found out that Mrs Vacuous  (let's call her Brenda) is portrayed by the toothsome Véronique Renaud who was cast solely on the fact that she supplied her own Cammie knickers for the role.

Take from that what you will.

Unfortunately their enjoyment is cut short - unlike ours which never started - when the car suffers a - strangely invisible - puncture so whilst the by now grumpy man tries to fix it Brenda wanders off into the woods, summoned it seems by a black cat with bizarre psychic powers and the ability to make badly animated lightning appear on screen.

No really.

Toothsome....or French as we say around here.

But that's not all it can do for as it mysteriously makes what looks like slivers of  piss streak across the screen the beast attacks Brenda scratching her hands a wee bit and - being a woman - Brenda starts screaming for her hubbie before blaming him for her predicament.

But as he - uncomfortably - hugs her she gazes at her hands again, realising that the scratches were imaginary.

And with this, the poor put upon hubbie decides to call it a day and find a local hotel where hopefully he can get some peace from his mad missis.

Now sooner has day turned to night when they pull up outside an enormous Gothic castle* that, just to show how foreboding it actually is, is blasting Bach's Toccata in d-minor out of the windows.

Hurrying inside the couple are greeted by the owners - a hunting knife obsessed old fat man cradling a shotgun and his pie-obsessed wife who bizarrely seems to have a tray of booze permanently stuck to her hand.

It's like staying at your nan and granddads as a kid.

But without the late night bedroom visits and forced buggery obviously.

Pants.

As the foursome sit and sip wine the old lady begins to tell a spooky  local legend of days gone by and how during/before/after the equinox (take your pick) shit happens.

And as if by magic and to prove a point a horse suddenly gallops passed.

It seems that years ago a local tinker family used to lure passing ships to their doom with false signal fires on shore before stealing their cargo.

But one night when attempting to scupper a passing English ship (carrying a cargo of antiquities from Egypt (see? We used to trade with the world) a huge earthquake squashed the ship flat into the rocks and the family with it.

Yup, sounds legit.

Anyway it appears that three descendants of the family are still alive and reside in the village but because of their past crimes have been afflicted with a terrible curse.

And no, being French doesn't count as a curse.

Yet.

There's an old woman whom everyone thinks is a witch, her daughter that no-one has ever seen and her son who is described as being an inbred monster with a massive head and a love of cycling (probably).

Can you guess who that is?

"I'm from Dudley!"

Obviously all this talk of terrible deaths and huge heads has an upsetting effect on Brenda who retires to bed only to be kept awake by the constant tip-tapping of hooves from the horse who is still wandering about in the hotel car park leaving her only one option - to head outside in a flimsy nightie and a pair of bright yellow wellies and matching raincoat.

I'll give the film it's due tho' this is quite possibly one of the most erotic things I've ever seen on celluloid.

And that includes your kids birth video.

No sooner has she tiptoed outside tho' when she's roughly pushed aside by the old man who, after years of torment has decided that tonight's the night that he's going to shoot the horse and with a cry of  "I hate that duck!" runs out into the night.

And straight past the horse.

Obviously Brenda decides to go out after him.

Which would probably be OK if not for the fact that it appears she's suddenly shit scared of horses so as soon as she spots our four legged friend she starts to scream before running to her husbands car and driving away.

Leaving her husband stranded alone and asleep in a strange place.

What a lovely lady.

Unfortunately - for her that is, as a viewer I'm just happy something is finally happening tho' it's a pity that the film is so dark you can only guess as to what that is -  the scary horse seems capable of randomly teleporting places and suddenly appears in front of the car forcing our heroine to abandon it and run into the woods in the hope of something - anything - of note happening.

"Chase me now!"

 After interminable shots of the old man swearing whilst taking pot shots at out-takes from the title sequence to Black Beauty intercut with scenes of Brenda stumbling thru' bushes in various states of focus she soon - but not soon enough - bumps into the beast boy and his mum who appear to be pushing an apple cart around whilst tabbing on duty fee fags and discussing his recently dead sibling/her dead daughter.

Which kinda explains why no fucker has seen her of late.

Paying too much attention to the chat and not enough to where she's standing Brenda trips and falls into an open grave where she's soon spotted by the bad boy.

He doesn't kill her tho' as remarkably it turns out that Brenda is the spitting image of his dead sister.

Which isn't too surprising seeing she's also played by Renaud, only this time in a really shit wig.


Entranced by the resemblance he just sits and pokes her with a stick but his mother has other ideas, insisting that Brenda has no right to live if her daughter has died, so orders her son to bury Brenda alive.

Luckily the horse appears and kicks the son in the face giving Brenda ample time to escape and the viewer a chance to go for a piss safe in the knowledge that absolutely fuck all of note is actually going to happen.

Scarily at the very same time the horse is also still taunting the old bloke with the gun.

Ghost horse?

Twins?

Or just shite plotting?

You decide.

"You ain't seen me right?"

Just as the sheer ineptitude of the plotting feels like it's about to crush everything and everyone around it the film takes a bizarre turn as suddenly and without warning a nearby cliff face collapses exposing not only the missing British ship but also a mummy clad in an old body stocking and a gimp mask who totters off toward the graveyard and vomits in the dead sisters (albeit very pretty) mouth and brings her back to life before taking her hand a going for a walk.

And with that the scene is set for a confrontation of epic proportions 'tween a mummy, a spooky horse and an old man with a gun driven mad by the lack of a good nights sleep.

Tho' not between the mummy and mental boy tho' as they're played by the same actor.

Suffice to say that Brenda's night is about to get much worse....

...And one that doesn't involve Cécile Fournier.

Bloody hell that was rough.

Fuck only knows what Bernard Launois was injecting when he decided to make this movie but hopefully it's been totally banned under the UN human rights act by now, tho' it'd be nice to know exactly what he was thinking when he decided to throw away his fairly lucrative bit part career with Eurocine Films to try his hand at directing.

As an 'actor' he'd appeared briefly in 'Pigalle Crossways of Illusions', 'Racket on Pleasure' and the Rosalba Neri shagathon '2 Males for Alexa' but by the Eighties Launois was bitten - tho' more likely mercilessly buggered - by the directing bug, which after a few piss-poor comedies culminated with Devil Story.

Thanks for that Bernard.

Coming across like the painful results of an almost soulless scientific study into the equations of what makes a bad movie, Devil Story is badly shot, underwritten to a point of absurdity and cheaper than your mum with the added bonus of being shot thru' gauze on cracked lenses by a drunk blind man that manages to even  make scenes of a nubile French lass running around in her undies appear underwhelming and unappealing.

Or perhaps that's the point and Launois is in fact a cinematic genius who's actually intentionally fucking with our preconceptions of what constitutes a good film.

"Look over there! That's how many fucks I give!"

Only joshing, it's just shit.

*In reality the famous Palais Bénédictine - a Gothic/renaissance venue built by Benedictine liqueur's founder, Ted Bénédictine and designed by Camille Albert and very pretty it is too.

cigarettes and alcohol.

As I admitted earlier this week, I went out and bought another version of Zombie Lake on Wednesday (because reasons).

What I didn't admit was that I also purchased another copy of this classic too. 

But why I hear you cry.

Because it's quite possibly the second best Nazi zombie movie ever made by the writer (and original director) of Zombie Lake

So without further delay allow me to introduce you to the genius that is Oasis of the Zombies.

Enjoy.

I know I did.

Probably.

La Tumba de los muertos vivientes (AKA Grave of the Living Dead, Oasis of the Zombies, Oasis of the Living Dead, Treasure of the Living Dead, Bloodsucking Nazi Zombies. 1983).
Dir: Jesus Franco (probably, well the majority of it, as A.M. Frank).
Cast: Manuel Gélin, Eduardo Fajardo, Henri Lambert, Myriam Landson, Antonio Mayans, Eric Viellard, Javier Maiza, Albino Graziani, Miguel Aristu, Doris Regina, Caroline Audret, and France Lomay (but not Lina Romay - well not in some versions).

"Quick, get some bottles to make Molotov cocktails with like in school".

Our tale of terror opens with two ample arsed ladies who have taken time out from their holiday to sunny Tripoli to visit a haunted oasis in the middle of the desert.

as one would on any package tour.

At least it's somewhere to park your bike.

It appears that the locals have been filling the girls (settle down) heads with all sorts of scary stories about the oasis and how it's haunted by the restless spirits of murdered Nazi soldiers but the ladies, probably thinking that undead baby killers are less likely to try it on with them at the local disco than the greasy mustachioed natives decide to go take a look for themselves.

It comes as no surprise (to us that is, they seem visibly shocked) when they're dragged beneath the sands to their deaths by mysterious and moldy bread-like hands....

Melania's let herself go....less Be Best more Be Beast.

Cut to rugged, porn 'tached Colonel Kurt Maitzell (Lambert) and his sexy chain smoking, oh so slightly stern and Lego haired wife (Landson, covering for Lina Romay who only appears in the French version*) on vacation in Tripoli to catch up with his oldest military acquaintance and World War II rival, the stiff (upper lipped) Captain Robert Blabert Sr. (Maiza).

Landson: sexily supply teacher-like, yet still
replaced by Lina Romay in some versions.

Fighting on opposite sides during World War II (Maitzell alongside Rommel, Blabert with Monty) Maitzell has a business proposition for his former adversary; it appears that $6,000,000 worth of Nazi gold went missing during a battle in the Libyan desert and there’s every reason to think the gold is still there.

Blabert agrees and goes to fetch his map of the site but just when you think that the movie is going to become a kind of 'Indiana Jones vs. the undead' style adventure (albeit a wee bit cheaper) Maitzell stabs Blabert with a poisoned biro and legs it into the desert with the map.

Destination: The Oasis.

Of The Zombies.

And not Oasis in Birmingham where I used to buy all my clothes in the 80s obviously.

Not you.

Suddenly for fear of the film getting too exciting we're transported - by what looks like someone's holiday Super 8's filmed on a cotton bedsheet - to swinging London where Blabert’s son, also confusingly named Robert (Gélin) has just received a letter regarding not only his dads death but a mention of the missing millions.

This obviously has no baring on him deciding to embark post haste to Tripoli.

While he’s getting his stuff together for the journey, Robert Jr. finds his dad’s wartime diary, complete with the exciting tale of his mission to intercept the Nazi gold.

It's so exciting in fact that it causes the picture to go all wobbly as we experience an incredibly overlong flashback full of glaring continuity errors, too much acting and far too many unnecessary sex scenes.

Unlike the flashback in Zombie Lake which is cinematic gold.

"She's turned the weans against us!"

Important things that we learned from this sequence include the fact that between 1943 and 1983, Robert Snr. didn't age one jot (is he perchance related to Howard Vernon’s Zombie Lake Mayor Hoek?), that Robert Jr. was conceived during the war yet is only in his early twenties and that his mum was as a sheiks daughter (and played by the sultry - and slightly boss eyed - Doris Regina, star of Orgy of the Nymphomaniacs).

Oh yes and his dad was really shit at drawing.

Aye....seems legit.

Impressed with his dads tales of daring-do and random impregnations, Robert manages to persuade his pals the council estate Mark Hamill-alike Ronald (Viellard), lank haired troll Sylvia (Audret), and the pube headed, bespectacled Ahmed (Aristu, whom you may remember from The Night of Sincere Sex, no? suit yourself), to join him in Libya on his hunt for the gold.

So far so plodding.

Things soon hot up tho' when we catch up with Colonel Maitzell and his wife (admit it you'd forgotten about them hadn't you?) who, it appears have arrived at the oasis (alongside some badly dubbed shirtless hired muscle) and have decided to rest for the night and start excavations first thing in the morning.

Whilst the Colonel and his missis sleep (well he sleeps, she just continues to smoke) the muscle men sit around playing cards (but not alas using The UnDeck - copies still available) and thinking of the best way to screw over the Maitzells and keep the gold for themselves.

If you hadn't already guessed they are very, very bad men.

Before they can make a decision as to the best way to rid themselves of the Colonel and his wife (tho' the cigarettes will probably finish her off soon) the dunes suddenly burst alive with the sound of undead Nazis rising from their graves beneath the sand.

Well with the sound of various farmyard animals - alongside what sounds like a squeaky rocking chair - slowed down, which much as I admire this avant garde approach to sound design is actually a bit shit.

"Aye son!"

The Colonel manages to escape the ensuing blood bath but not before he's given a nasty hickie by one of the zombies (and we all know what that means), but being such a hard man he's able to stumble back to Tripoli and into Robert and his pals before dying.

Badly.


Robert seems to find the whole situation a wee bit annoying - tho' not as annoying as his pal Ronald seeing as it's interrupted his attempts to worm his way into the affections (and bri-nylon undies) of the cutely blond, dungaree wearing Erika (professional rude lady Lomay from the classic Pussy Talk 2), assistant to kindly anthropologist cum Dave Lee Travis lookalike Professor Denikan (Two Female Spies with Flowered Panties star Gratziano) and his colleague Steve Soontodie who is that unimportant he doesn't even get a credit on the movie.

Poor sod.

Or very lucky sod depending on how you rate the film.

taking a lighter from his breast pocket, Professor DLT-lite nonchalantly torches The Colonel's body before explaining in great depth that anyone bitten by a zombie will rise from the dead.

Really? well I never.

And probably never will if I continue to spend all my time watching shite like this.

Or at least that's what my mum always said.

It's not Omar Shariff it's Omar the thief....of your heart.

Robert and his pals are suitably nonplussed by all these tales of death - and the fact that the hairy cornflake has just torched a corpse - and reckon that after a good nights kip they can go visit Granddad Sheik, borrow a camel or two then be at the oasis and back with the gold before tea time.

Yeah right.

Not wanting to be stuck in the local town any longer than necessary, Denikan, yummy Erika (after some soft focus hot lovin' with Ronald) and Soontodie decide it'd be best to leave for the desert straight away in order to set up camp and have a cuppa brewing ready for Rob and companies arrival.

And not, I repeat not in order to steal the gold for themselves.

"Is it in yet?"

All that conniving is immaterial tho' as the next day when Robert and co. finally arrive at the oasis they're shocked to find Denikan's party covered in blood and love bites whilst their native guide runs around like a wuss screaming “The living dead! The zombies! The zombies that came out of the sandwich is there!”

Well that's what it sounded like.


Robert assumes this is some kind of sick joke, even going as far as to accuse Denikan of making the whole thing up when the poor guy wakes up shouting the same thing.

The fact that his arse is covered in bite marks is obviously not important.

She's going to have someones eye out.

With our heroes banded together at the oasis, the scene is set for a climactic battle between the living and the dead.

Which would be nice seeing as so far we've only seen the zombies for about 10 minutes in total.

And to be honest I'm not even sure they were actually zombies seeing as they looked (and smelled probably) more like a bunch of homeless folk the director happened across whilst scouting for locations.

But enough of that because the movie is racing (limping?) toward its exciting climax as suddenly the dead begin to rise from the dunes hell bent on eating the would be gold-baggers....

Will Robert and his friends survive the attack?

Will they find the gold?

Will Erika escape or will the zombies eat her whole? (seeing as most of the undead spit that bit out).

Is 'gold-baggers' actually a word?

And how many of my reviews have featured that 'joke' (which was way past it's sell by date when they used it in Carry On Columbus)?

Franco's Oasis of the Zombies can be viewed as a terrifying companion piece to Jean Rollin's classic Zombie Lake, seeing as both films share a similar plot, villains and structure.

Oh yes, and the same script.

Bizarre as it sounds that's actually true and to add even more confusion to the background of the epic Oasis was actually released in dozens of re-edited versions, each one concentrating on a different thread of the plot.

But the strangest thing regarding Oasis of the Zombies is that Franco shot two separate versions of the film simultaneously, one for the French market and one for the Spanish.

Neither of them that good.

"You ain't seen me right?"

As with most (all?) Jess Franco flicks the acting varies from unemotional cardboard to sturdy MDF with most of the females being cast due to arse size and an abundance of bush rather than any thespian ability.

Make-up wise the Nazi zombies are a step up from the green, gloss painted goons of Zombie Lake (which admittedly isn't that difficult) tho' some do look a wee bit too much like necrophiliac sex dolls for my liking.

The Matt Hancock love doll: Insert cock here and fuck him like he fucked the NHS.

Still it's worth a look for any fans of the much maligned Nazi zombie genre or large 1970's European bottoms.

Which means everyone here I guess.

































*But don't quote me on that as it may be a total lie.