a little less conversation....

Been a bit of a resurgence in the cult of Weng Weng recently (OK, one person I follow on Twitter mentioned it last week) so thought I'd give his first big screen outing a rewatch.

Bizarrely this was the first ever review posted here from a time where I assumed people would actually read my stuff.

But they didn't.

Ah youth.

Anyway without further ado - and now with added words.....

For Your Height Only (AKA For Y'ur Height Only. 1981).
Dir: Eddie Nicart (yes THAT Eddie Nicart).
Cast: Weng Weng, Yehlen Catral, Carmi Martin, Tony Ferrer, Mike Cohen, Anna Marie Gutierrez, Beth Sandoval and your Auntie Jean.

"How did that midget find out about our operation? That little Weng could put us out of business!"

Whilst visiting the Philippines (no doubt for the cheap crack and whores....no, sorry for a 'science conference') the brilliant - well he did invent the terrifying 'N' bomb - and bearded Professor Bertie 'Van' Kohler (Warriors of The Apocalypse's Cohen) is kidnapped by an evil group of pimp shirted bad men and held to ransom by the notorious Mr. Giant.

So far so usual foreign holiday.

As we all know from watching 'the films' at times of crisis the world can usually call on one man to help and in this case it's the Philippines top secret super spy.

His name?

Weng Weng, or as he's better known 'Agent 00' - a martial arts expert, weapons specialist, randy romancer, smart dressed lady killer and all-around honest to goodness superhero wrapped in a tiny package topped off with a Dario Argento moptop.

Can U dig it?

Harry and Meghan in happier times.

Arriving at Spy HQ, Agent 00 (Weng Weng) receives his orders and his top gadgets - including a poison detecting ring, a radio controlled flying straw hat with a razor sharp brim, a tiny machine gun, a miniature jetpack and a fountain pen which  is pointed out helpfully "It isn't any good if you need to write with it, but we can't have everything." - from 'The Boss' (not Bruce Springsteen, but a jovial, chubby pervy old uncle figure played by Ferrer from the classic Legs Katawan Babae) before setting out to rescue the missing professor and foil Mr. Giant's no doubt evil plans by infiltrating his gang.

And how does he do this?

By stripping off his shirt and wiggling his HUGE erect nipples in front of a sexy lady whilst muttering the immortal chat up line: “Hey, do you want to do it?” of course.

Tho' this might just be crass dubbing.

You can take the piss all you like, that's one more girl than you've ever touched.

As far as the plot goes that's about it seeing as the majority of the movie is just a fantastic mish mash of hair raising stunts (usually involving Weng jumping off buildings using an umbrella or handkerchief as a parachute or jumping over small molehills on a mini motorbike) and Weng dancing to hot disco hits to impress a gaggle of Filipino ladies (including sexy superstar Carmi Martin) intercut with random scenes of our pint sized hero chasing polyester panted (and shiny shirted) bad guys with his flying hat.

For about an hour.

Don't fret tho' because just when you think your brain (or you underpant elastic) can't possibly take any more high octane action (or any more hot loving), Weng finally makes his way to the villains hide out, eliminating most of his henchmen thru' a mix of hot lead and hot punches to the happy sacks before confronting Mr. Giant himself.

And guess what?

He isn't actually a giant at all, you see HE'S A MIDGET TOO!!!!!

Oh.

My.

Sides.

Whoever designed this cover I'd like to shake them by the hand and look them in the eye....before I hurl them of the tallest building I can find.

And with that out of the way, here's the science part.

By the late 70s and early 80s, the era of the sub-Bondian lo-fi double feature fillers was coming to an end.

Spies were old news and whilst the Roger Moore led Bond franchise was still alive (just), everyone else was just using the rudimentary cinematic coathanger upon which to drape the trappings of the genre of the moment, whether that be kung fu (the secret lair and undercover shenanigans of Enter the Dragon) or the soft-core capers in stuff like Licensed to Love and Kill (which at least has a great cast, I mean where else could you find the likes of Nick Tate, Deep Roy and Gareth Hunt in one place?), so it's no surprise that at some point someone would make an espionage exploitation epic featuring a midget lead.

I mean we knew disability wasn't untouchable as far as box office bucks go seeing as we'd already experience the faintly uncomfortable Mr. No Legs (AKA Gun Fighter) and the multi-media sensation that was/is Jay J. Armes but to be honest I'm just shocked it took so long and wasn't a semi-serious endeavor (or hit US teevee show) starring Hervé Villechaize, who was at that point a world-wide celeb thanks to Fantasy Island and had also faced off against Roger Moore in The Man With The Golden Gun.

Tho' there's still time for that to happen, I mean Peter Dinklage isn't that busy at the moment.

Unfortunately (as far as taste goes) the Filipino film industry - aided and abetted by American film producer Dick (of Dr. Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks and Pieces fame) Randall - got there first, casting the little known actor and martial artist Ernesto de la Cruz as the lead and with that the cult of Weng Weng was born with  de la Cruz going on to portray the suave super spy in two further films - The Impossible Kid and Da Best in The West.

If you've not seen them,  The Impossible Kid sees Weng Weng transferred to the Manila branch of Interpol (seeing as he's worn out all the ladies in Govan) and sent in pursuit of the notorious Mr X, a super villain whose head is covered by a giant white sports sock whilst Da Best in The West has Weng and sexy sidekick Gordon investigating the murder of Santa Monica’s mayor.

This movie has one of the greatest climaxes of all time, featuring as it does Weng armed with a Gatling gun mowing down hundreds of Mexican bandits whilst a tribe of dwarf tribesmen launch a counter attack with bows and arrows.

A wee bit like the end of Return of The Jedi but with less arse-banditary.

And wide brimmed hats obviously.

The first attempt at a Ninth Doctor action figure was abandoned after causing mass panic among under tens.

But sometimes truth can be stranger than fiction and there's no greater evidence of this than the fact that due to the  success of For Y’ur Height Only (and the rest), de la Cruz was made an honorary Philippine Secret Agent (and  be presented a custom-made .25 caliber pistol by then Vice Chief of Staff General Fidel V. Ramos) as well as being awarded a special citation for services to the Filipino film industry by the then-first lady (and famous shoe fetishist) Imelda Marcos.

Bizarrely and according to legend the pair got so drunk at the party afterwards that they ended up performing a karaoke duet of My Way in front of a throng of adoring fans.*

There's really not anything else I can add to that is there?**

Good day.

* An unauthorized recording of their performance was later released on bootleg cassette and sold 200,000 copies of which I own six.





**Well apart from the fact that in 1992, at the relatively young age of 34, Weng Weng died of heart attack, a common cause of death among those with dwarfism but I didn't want to end on a downer.

Which I now have.

Sorry.

stryke it lucky.

Noticed that the pound shop Oswald Moseley, ferret-faced uber-racist and part-time hand model that is Nigel Farage has been trending on Twitter again.

Unfortunately it's not because he's dead but because it looks like our roly poly prankster cum (bucket) Prime Minister Boris Johnson has promised him a peerage for um reasons.

The scariest thing tho' was at no point during the conversation was it mentioned that BoJo and Nige actually have more in common that just being elitist tosspots who only think of lining their own pockets no matter what the cost to anyone else because you see they also scarily enough both have the same favourite film.

No seriously.

I once phoned in Farage's radio show to ask him about it.*

Johnson: A mooth made for shite-in in.

Obviously this shouldn't come as too much of a surprise when you realise that Zombie 4 is actually about immigration and foreign types and the like but under the guise of being an Italian zombie film.

Clever eh?

Oh plus it features Jeff Stryker and as we all know BoJo never says no to a wee bit of man-cock.

You can ask Carrie Symonds about that.

Anyway on with the review.

Zombie Flesh Eaters 3 (AKA Zombie 4: After Death. 1988)
Dir: Claudio Fragasso.
Cast: Jeff Stryker, Candice Daly, Don Wilson, Massimo Vanni, Nick Nicholson, Adrienne Joseph, Jim Gaines, your mom and some tramps.

But not Jeremy Corbyn obviously.

Or immigrants.

Touchin' our bane will feel our rain on the gain. It's a nightlife, whoa! Runnin' hard if you want it or not! It's a wild life, whoa! You can't stop. You must go on! I'm living after death! Living after death! I'm living after death! Living... Living... LIVING AFTER DEATH!

Somewhere on a remote South Pacific island (or more likely in the kiddies play park behind the directors house), a scientific research team have been working on a cellular regenerative thingy in the hope of finding a cure for ingrowing toenails and bad breath.

In an attempt to get the local (glam rock frocked) natives onside, top science bloke Dr. Godfrey Soontodie has offered to use this frankly bollocks scientific discovery to help cure the voodoo witch doctor's daughter of her terrifying bunions.

As is always the case in these situations the wee girl unfortunately dies.

It's off screen tho' so it's not that upsetting.

"Get your clothes off and your lips puckered....these babies aren't gonna suckle themselves!"

Not too surprisingly the witch doctor takes offense to this news and decides to put the famous 'curse of the dead' on the island, its visitors and inhabitants.

Which is understandable if not a wee bit annoying for the rest of the tribe.

With a wave of his mighty (and very beefy) arms and a flash of homemade fireworks (but not alas a flash of old man thigh) literally all hell breaks loose.

Well it would if hell consisted of an old lady in an ill fitting Halloween mask and a pair of Austin Powers teeth seemingly faking an orgasm whilst dancing like Ian Curtis (post suicide) on crack.

It's your nan at Christmas basically.

Laugh and indeed now!

It's not too much of a spoiler to say that the dead rise and kill everyone.

Well everyone that is except the lead scientists blonde moppet daughter, Jenny who survives the carnage thanks to a magic amulet given to her by her mother.

Well it's either actually magic or so cheap and nasty as to repel any self respecting zombie that sees it.

You can decide.

Flash forward 15 years later and a rescue team, led by the hunky Chuck (porn idol Stryker in a rare 'straight' role - ask your dad) is finally dispatched to discover why no-one has been returning their calls.

Well they took their time didn't they?

Also on the island (by some strange quirk of fate) is a by now all grown up Jenny (the late, great Daly from The Young and the Restless and Hell Hunters) accompanied by the slightly less attractive Louise (Joseph, mother of Birds of a Feather's Leslie), rentalunk Rod (Nicholson) and a couple of dirty mouthed gypsies.

Our Nige seen here reenacting his favourite scene from the movie. No, I didn't realize that it featured a bit where a bigoted halfwit almost gets garotted by a biplane either. Must have been cut in the UK.

Sod all this character stuff tho' we want to know what Team Chuck is up to.

Well, whilst wandering around in a polystyrene cave left over from Michele Soavi's 'The Sect' (no really) our hero comes across the mysterious Book of the Dead.

Which is a change from my boyhood years watching him coming across a variety of buff arses whilst pulling a face not too dissimilar to the one your grandad pulled when he had that stroke.

But enough of the homemade erotica you want to know how Chuck knows that it's the real Book of the Dead and not a shoddy knock-off one from down the market.

Well it does have the words BOOK OF THE DEAD printed on the cover in big bold letters so I guess that clinches it.

You can see why Mrs Unwell doesn't trust me to buy stuff off Ebay can't you?

"Shite in mah tramp bearded mooth!"

Anyway back to the plot (for want of a better word) where Chuck, in a vain attempt to prove he can read unaided - but alas proving that he's never seen a horror movie - begins to shout random passages from the book (intercut with him shouting "Yeah baby! You're so fuckin' tight!" and pulling his cum face - well in my dreams it is) not realizing that the words, when read aloud are capable of bringing the dead back to life.

This'll be the same living dead that have actually been wandering around aimlessly for the past decade and a half from when that witch doctor read the same book, remember?

The writer obviously doesn't.

Some immigrants stealing our jobs and benefits yesterday.

Within minutes our heroes (well the folk on screen) are running for their very lives as hordes (I say hordes but I mean dozens) of foul looking refugees and illegal Eastern European immigrants (possibly) begin to rise slowly from their shallow graves intent on tasting the legendary Jeff Stryker's ample meat.

Or something.

Meanwhile in the grassy bit behind the bike sheds, jumpy Jenny and co. have problems of their own (discounting the obvious ones like lack of acting ability and bad breath) when a lone, maggot covered tramp (obviously symbolizing Remainers) falls on them from behind a tree covering a hapless member of her party in sick.

Running away screaming they soon stumble across the deserted medical research facility (in reality the directors local scout hut) once run by Jenny's folks where they're soon joined (c'mon, the running times not that long) by Chuck who has managed to escape the scary flesh eaters by leaving his team to die whilst he sneaked away sobbing like a baby.

What a guy.

Bobby Davro, up the casino, Penrith 1985.....YESCH!

Luckily for the survivors this peaceful medical centre is chock full of weapons  giving the male cast members ample opportunity to pose in a topless sweaty manner whilst firing a variety of semi-automatic weaponry indiscriminately at various unpaid extras who are then expected to fall off roofs and be set on fire in the vain hope of securing a work permit or at least a new pair of shoes for their kids.

Ain't capitalism grand?

But the humans are fighting a losing battle as one by one they are overcome by the advancing dead.

Deciding the blow up the centre in an attempt to convince the zombies it's Bonfire night and thus giving the humans a chance to escape (plus they reckon it might add a wee bit of much needed excitement to the movie), sole survivors Jenny and Chuck make a break for the woods only to find themselves back in the very cave where the spooky witch doctor started the undead plague to begin with.

With the zombie army closing in and Chuck down to firing blanks, Jenny clutches the magic amulet, praying for a miracle.

Well it's either that or she's cursing her agent.**

Casual.

Will our toothsome twosome escape?

Will the UK rise up and actually take back control?

Will the zombie hordes attack Jenny and eat her whole?

Or will they spit that bit out?

Or will Chuck die whilst something slight and fairly incomprehensible happens to Jenny?

Go on, guess.

Not photoshopped.

Best known for it's frightening amount of alternate titles (After Death being the most common and Zombi 4 being the easiest to spell) as well as being shot on sets constructed for Michael Soavi's 'The Sect' and filmed entirely using camera's and equipment 'borrowed' from the set of Bruno Mattei's 'Strike Commando 2' (which was filming nearby), Claudio Fagrasso's -AKA Clyde Anderson - Zombie Flesh-Eaters 3/4 is the near pinnacle of bad movie making made flesh, a cinematic black hole so dire that not even light can escape from it's spiny celluloid fingers.

Imagine the most dangerous and sordid unsafe sex act you could ever indulge in with the most foul, STD ridden, crab-panted person - or animal - you can, then imagine that as you're about to cum (against your better judgement) you look down and realize that this pock marked, toothless crone you've payed £5 to probably catch sex death from is, in fact, your Gran.

You know...the dead one.

This is the effect After Death can have on a normal cinema goer.

But saying that, imagine how amusing it would be if you saw this happen to a friend.

And you just happened to have a camera handy.

So I guess you pays your money you takes your chance.

Funnel or tunnel?

Wise men say that you can't choose who (or what) you fall in love with tho' and like the three legged dog you should put down but decide to nail to a skateboard, After Death stays with you long after the DVD has been ejected, just like Hepatitis C or the feeling of shame you get after watching your parents home made porn.

Obviously just before realizing halfway thru' that you're actually the star, propped up on top of the wardrobe, drugged up to the eyeballs and wearing a dress.

But if like me you're one of the special few that actually enjoys Fragrasso's work - especially his top notch collaborations with Bruno ('Zombie Creeping Flesh' and 'Rats : Night of Terror') Mattei  - then jump in and enjoy.

I know I did.

But to be honest I really think that I should get out more.

And by that I mean out of the house not out of Europe obviously.

We wouldn't have stuff like this film if that were the case.

*And bizarre as it seems it's also Catherine Blaiklock's favourite film too.

You see it was actually her love of this movie that got her to team up with  Farage to form the Brexit Party in the first place.

**Tho' obviously not as much as she was after she left The Young and the Restless, when after being unable to find work ended up OD-ing in a rundown Los Angeles apartment on December 14, 2004, which kinda put the dampers on my 35th birthday I can tell you.

snake eyes.

Ended up watching this whilst trying to finish up some work t'other night.

It was late, I was tired and just couldn't be arsed turning it off.

So it's my own fault obviously.

Welcome to the continuing saga of 31 days of horror.

Brennan: Not you.

Tho' as a plus point it does feature a stand out performance from Joy Bang who looks a wee bit like top teen crush Peggy Lee Brennan from Message from Space.

In a certain light.

And if you squint.

Night of The Cobra Woman (1972).
Dir: Andrew Meyer.
Cast: Joy Bang, Marlene Clark, Roger Garrett, Vic Diaz, Rosemarie Gil, Vic Silayan and Slash Marks.

“I don’t know about you chicks running around cockfights but take off your dress.”

Welcome to a World War II torn Philippines (where life is cheap but film stock - and people willing to get their tits out for coppers - is cheaper) where army nurse Lena Aruza (Ex missis Billy Dee Williams Clark) and her equally nursey pal Francisca (Gil, currently starring as Doña Carmen Cortes in the hit teevee show Ngayon at Kailanman) have decided to take a break from saving soldiers to explore the local caves.

As you do.

Well Lena is exploring the caves as poor Francisca is scared of the dark so decides to sit on a rock and watch out for any evil Japanese types who may be skulking about.

Unfortunately as she's sitting adjusting her hat who should sneak out of the shadows but cult Filipino film star and professional bad guy Vic Diaz who grabs the poor girl before roughly putting it in her before shooting her in the tummy.

Ouch.

The gunshot startles a sleeping cobra in the cave who in turn bites Lena's (ample) arse but rather than kill her the venom imbues her with magical powers which she then uses to save her pal.

Sounds legit.

"I can see your house from here Peter!"

There's no time to think about any of that tho' as we're suddenly transported thru' time (via the medium of fim, not in reality obviously) to the 'modern day' where the toothsome student and UNICEF researcher Joanna (Bang - the reason we are here) is busy helping her kindly college professor Jeff Tezon (Silayan, creator of those little toy animal families that cost a fortune to collect) create (non-Autism causing) vaccines for snakebites.

Anyway it seems that during the course of her studies she'd heard about a reclusive old woman who owns an ultra-rare kind of snake (you can spot it by the shoddily marker penned diamond on its neck) that may have a venom that can cure stuff - or something - so decides to go visit her.

Arriving at the old ladies house she's greeted by an aged - well dipped in PVA glue) Francisca and told that as Lena (for the old snake lady is she) is meditating she can’t be disturbed so she should come back later.

Undeterred she decides to have a nosy around the garden where she's startled by a fat man in a set of comedy teeth and a too tight T-shirt dribbling and gurning from in a tree.

Turns out that this is Francisca's son Lope (Diaz again), who unlike his dad is only interested in the flower on her hat.

Terrified at the thought of his sweaty sausage fingers anywhere near her Joanna beats a hasty retreat back to the car and heads home to prepare to meet her boyfriend, the scarily skinny Stan Duff (One time Laverne & Shirley guest star Garrett) who is flying in from America to visit her that very evening.

And by prepare I mean have a crafty wank whilst gazing at his photograph obviously.

You have to admit that if nothing else she has a packed day.

It's just a pity that none of it is very exciting to watch.

Not even the furtive fiddling.

Bunnet.

Anyway, arriving at the airport just as Duff is picking up his luggage the pair have a girly hug n' kiss before firstly kidnapping an eagle that's sitting on a wall minding its own business and then offering a fellow American - Sergeant Angelus Merkle (Marks in his only film role outside the CCTV ones of him exposing himself in a kiddies playpark) - a lift into town seeing as his GI pals haven't turned up to get him.

Obviously worn out with all this action (and bird stealing) the pair head back to Joanna's room for some cuddling and stuff. and all whilst she wears really ill-fitting - yet oddly arousing - underwear.

The next day after Joanna has headed off to work Duff finds himself at a loose end so to amuse himself and maybe help his girlfriend out he decides to visit Lena himself in the hope of getting the information/venom/whatever the fuck it is/ that Joanna seeks so to this end puts on his best denim shirt and drives off to the village.

"Are you the farmer?"

As he's about to ring the doorbell tho' poor Duff is bitten by a deadly cobra and falls unconscious to the floor, luckily Lena appears just back from the local Aldi and sucks the venom out of him before putting him to bed to recover.

Worried about where her man has gotten to Joanna heads up to Lena's house and soon bumps into Francisca who, quite nonchalantly goes on to explain that Lena is an evil cobra woman cum deity whose psycho-sexual powers drain any man who sleeps with her and that Duff may be next on the list after Lope who is in fact Francisca's son.

Surprisingly Joanna takes all this information on face value and offers to steal some of the snake venom Lena's keeps in her drinks cabinet so that they can do something with it.

Maybe.

I honestly don't know.

She returns the next day with the eagle in tow (because eagles are the only creatures that can kill a cobra) and rings the bell only to be told - by Lena - that Duff's very tired after the biting and is still asleep but she should come back later.

Somehow (I wasn't paying attention) Joanna manages to steal the venom and leg it out of the house eager to meet up with Francisca but as the pair chat the evil cobra (who may or may not be a supernatural being) leaps on the poor woman and bites her.

To death.

Cue an exciting - if not entirely ethical real-life snake on bird fight as the eagle kills the cobra whilst Joanna heads off to work to study the vial of venom.

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

With her pet cobra killed Lena has no choice but to seduce Duff and make him her sex slave and draining his life force, you see it turns out that fucking random blokes till they whither and die is the only thing that stops her turning into a snake herself.

I think.

Unfortunately she needs to get the venom back from Joanna as that's the only thing that will restore Duff and make him fanciable again.

Probably.

Honestly I really don't know as I was more interested in catching a glimpse of Joy Bang in her pants again.

Look I'm only flesh and blood.

So to this end Lena hatches a plan where Duff will head over to the lab to steal back the venom whilst she wanders around the local market picking up random guys to have sex with, peeling her ever growing snakeskin off as she goes.

Just like you'd peel glue off your fingers in school.

"Raff row!"

And so begins a race against time - and tedium - as Lena's psychopathic sexcapades continue and more and more local studs (as well as Sergeant Merkle, who it turns out is a wee bit rapey so no loss) fall prey to the evil cobra woman.....

Will Joanna find a cure?

Will Dr Tezon ever get to smoke a full fag?

Will anything remotely interesting actually happen?

Only one way to find out cos I'm not telling.

From the late, great (well OK late) actor/writer/producer/director Andrew Meyer comes a film hat's probably most famous for being the first Roger Corman produced Filipino fright flick.

And even he's uncredited.

Let that sink in for a second.

Scary eh?

Doubled up for its US release with the Mel Welles’ classic Lady Frankenstein, Night of The Cobra Woman feels like a strange hybrid of 30s monster movie and 50s sci-fi with added breasts and big pants hastily bunged together with a plot that's as nonsensical as it is convoluted.

And all that with a running time that's under 90 minutes.

I fang you.

It's not all bad tho' - only mostly - Marlene Clark gives it her all as the lizardy Lena whilst Joy Bang is her usual infinitely watchable self, Roger Garrett's performance on the other hand is so inconsequential and forgettable that they may have well as cast a scarecrow and had done with it.

His screen presence or lack of it may be due to the fact that he contracted a bizarre poultry infection whilst filming so I'll try not to be too harsh.

Nah fuck it he's shit.

But for every shite scene or eggbox effect there's a moment of true genius, like when Lena kills a topless farmer as a local guitarist jams in the background - nodding to the director as he waits for his cue to leave or when Lena upon attempting to seduce a street trader seductively lips her lips at his exposed arse crack.

Actually that's about it really.

But to be honest I can slag it off too much seeing as Andrew Meyer's first film - at the age of 23 - 'Match Girl' featured Andy Warhol in a starring role which is a fuck of a lot more than I achieved at that age.

Plus it does have a rather bookish heroine in glasses and big granny pants which is always a selling point.

Just me then?

howl bennett.

Things are getting hairy at the halfway point (sort of) of the 31 Days of Horror countdown.

Or is that count up?

Monsterwolf (2010).

Dir: Todor Chapkanov.

Cast: Leonor Varela, Robert Picardo, Marc Macaulay, Steve Reevis, Jason London, Jon Eyez, Griff Furst, Ricky Wayne, Nicole Barré, Amber Bartlett, Grant James, Dominick LaBanca, Chris J. Fanguy, Antonino Paone and Ritchie Montgomery.

"Jury duty is a civic duty".

Evil multinational oil company Badman Co. are busy digging huge random holes somewhere in the American backwoods - as oil companies do - when, after attempting to move an abandoned outside toilet with about 40 sticks of dynamite uncover what can only be described as a Stargate for dwarfs with a spooky blue flame hovering above it.

Ignoring the well known fact that such a phenomena could indicate the presence of natural gas and potentially blow everyone to fuck our fearless band of roughnecks continue blowing stuff up causing the flame to snuff it and a huge CGI wolf to appear in it's place, eating all the oil workers.

Grrrr!

"Teeth in mah mooth!"

Meanwhile back in town the nasty, balding executive in charge of Badman Oil Ned Stark (Star Trek: Voyager and Gremlins 2's Picardo) is busy going door-to-door in an effort to convince the local townsfolk to sell him their houses so that he can dig them up too.

Whilst a few citizens are concerned most our won over by Stark's secret weapon.

No, not a gold and red armoured suit but his newly acquired lawyer Maria (Varela from Blade 2 and Dallas sporting some very nice tattoos), a local gal turned big city hotshot.

You see in an act of cunning the likes of which the world hasn't seen since Blackadder's Baldrick breathed his last, Stark reckons that the locals are more likely to listen to 'one of their own' - and the sheriffs daughter to boot - when it comes to his business proposition.

Unfortunately for him, Maria begins to get more and more disillusioned with her boss' evil ways (you know the type of stuff, shouting at the local shopkeepers, calling everyone 'hicks', wearing brown shoes with a black suit etc.) and starts getting ever closer to her jury duty dodging ex-boyfriend Yale Locke (Jason London) who has noticed that when anybody actually sells out to Stark they're almost immediately eaten by a big hairy wild dog.

Or could it be a supernatural type monster wolf?

Or even a, gulp, Monsterwolf (one word)?

Well the police, led by the roguishly mustached Sheriff Lennie Bennett (Feast 2's Macaulay) reckon it has to be a wild animal of some kind but after it attempts to eat Maria, gets squashed by a truck and then scoffs the drunken driver locked in a prison cell the authorities aren't too sure, leading our heroes (alongside comedy sidekick Cannock Chase played by actor/director Furst) to visit the local native American and cliche ridden mystic Chief Turner (full time rent an ethnic Reevis) for if not help then some cheap drugs.

Guns don't kill people, skin tight nipple revealing vest tops do. Possibly.

With Turner waxing lyrical about loopy lupine legends, native American history and his plans to defiantly oppose Stark, our oil intoxicated bad man has only one course of action left him.

Yup you guessed it, he hires a band of professional mercenaries led by part-time Idris Elba alike and full time sex beast Coughlin (Eyez) to kill everyone who opposes Stark's plans.

Starting with Chief Turner.

And the difference between this and a fox?....about 6 pints.

As the mean arsed mercenaries draw ever closer, Turner explains to our heroes (via a fantastic animated flashback sequence worthy of Yo Gabba Gabba) that killing the wolf requires a tribal sacrifice.

A life for a life if you will.

And with Maria being the only other member of the tribe left (turns out she's adopted, I mean what are the odds?) her chances of making it thru' to the final reel alive are beginning to look about as slim as the movies characterizations.

Will eco-bollocks flower power save the day?

Will the mercenaries shoot everyone before returning to Manilla for some undisclosed reason?

Will Maria and Locke get to enjoy an 'R' rated sex scene where they at least get to remove their trousers?

Will Stark win the hearts and minds of the locals and eventually revenge the sacking of Winterfell?

And will Maria survive her fight to the death with our furry fanged fiend?

Or will the big bad wolf eat her whole?

I'm just asking because they usually spit that bit out.

From jobbing music vid' guy to straight to DVD hack for hire (in the nicest way of course) Todor Chapkanov - he who gave us Thor: Hammer of the Gods, Miami Magma and the snakes vs. cowboy classic Copperhead - comes probably the best Robert Picardo starring monster Wolf vs. oil exec' movies ever made.

True the plot's so old it's positively creaking and the movies cliché count goes so far off the scale it begins to bleep like the Chernobyl reactor about the 20 minute mark but it's at least watchable and, more importantly enjoyable too.

Unlike a lot of high budget fayre we've been subjected to recently.

The Meg anyone?

The pace is bright and breezy, the main characters likeable, the black-hatted villain hissable and while some of the CGI appears to have been rendered on an Amiga this only adds to the movies retro charm.

That and it's abject silliness.

Plus you name another movie where a cartoon wolf mysteriously (and without reason) turns into a giant lightning bolt in order to blow up the bad guys helicopter whilst a former Star Trek regular looks on in terror.

Buy it now, or at least tune into the Horror Channel until it turns up.

I mean they only have about 6 movies at the moment so it wont be too long a wait.

  

davie says: warbeck, hide yourself.

They've re-released Apocalypse Now! (again) and I'm sick of hearing how it's the greatest war movie ever made...

But it's not.

This is.

L’Ultimo cacciatore (AKA The Last Hunter, Hunter of the Apocalypse. 1980).
Dir. Antonio Margheriti
Cast: David Warbeck, Tisa Farrow, Tony King, Sir Bobby of Rhodes, John Steiner, some Chinamen and Margit Evelyn Newton.

The time: 1973, the place: a wee drinking club somewhere in downtown Saigon where the suave and sweaty Colonel Morris Minor (horror god and almost Bond, the late great Dame David Warbeck) has decided to spend his day off.

Enjoying warm booze and watching a bored Vietnamese whore trying to dance in an erotic manner (and failing miserably, poor cow) our heroes lazy day is rudely interrupted by his young male 'friend' Steve's sudden emotional breakdown.

Don't you hate it when that happens?

Steve, it seems, is rapidly approaching the tearful wank based Pot Noodle stage due in part to his missis leaving him but mainly because the scarily skinny prostitute lying across his bare chest is obsessed with stroking his hairy man breasts.

We've all been there.

After resigning himself to the fact that it's gonna be his job to clean up all the sweat, egg, semen and blood stains later whilst poor Steve dribbles in a ditch, you can imagine Morris' surprise when his forlorn pal suddenly sobers up and shoots some random GI in the face before offing himself.

And if that wasn't enough to ruin our heroes Saturday night somebody then decides to firebomb the club.

War it seems, is indeed hell.

Luckily for us (and for the film in general) Morris quickly legs it before the whole place goes up in cheap gin and piss soaked flames, watching in horror (or with mild apathy, I couldn't really tell) as everyone else is burnt to death.

Warbeck: You would
(tho' he'd probably not give you a choice).

There's no time for tears tho' because the top brass are sending Morris behind enemy lines.

As opposed to forcing him into the enemies mouth.

And his mission?

Jump out of what looks like the BBC outside broadcast helicopter into a small duck pond and meet up with the hard as nails 'Bastard Squad'.

This crack commando team, led by the badass Sgt. George Washington (king, from Cannibal Apocalypse and The Atlantis Interceptors) and his pal Carlos Santana (the legendary Rhodes) have orders to quietly traipse thru' the directors garden in order to 'silence' (they may mean blow up) a radio tower broadcasting evil propaganda messages telling the American soldiers to go home.

And it seems that they need Morris to join them as he once worked for Radio 2 as a continuity announcer or something.

So far so Heart of Darkness.

Throwing himself out of the plane and narrowly avoiding a rubber snake (or was that a real snake and a rubber Warbeck?) upon landing, Morris manages to find Washington and company without a hitch only to discover that they're dragging top lady reporter Jane Foster (Farrow, the slightly sleazier - not to say considerably more ginger sister of Mia) around with them for no other reason than that she must have been shooting another film nearby at the same time.

Which is fair enough I guess but does make you keep wondering when the zombies are going to attack.

Farrow: harsh.

Taking time to go the scenic route (and fill out the movie's length) our motley crew come across a small village populated by tiny, machine gun wielding Vietnamese woman with a nice line in exploding babies to shoot at.

Unfortunately Washington is wounded in the ensuing firefight meaning our heroes have to retreat into the jungle or face getting beaten by girls.

Cue twenty odd minutes of rotting corpses falling from trees, Tisa Farrow's sweaty nipples becoming more and more visible thru' her vest top and various members of the team getting pinned to trees by big spiky booby traps.

But alas still no zombies.

Or even cannibals for that matter.

But this lack of flesh eater action is the least of Warbeck's worries, seeing as the base camp (well base cave really) he has to report to on the final leg of his mission seems to be run by the scary bloke from Sparks (skinny legged Argento regular Steiner) and that all the soldiers under his command are off their tits on drugs.

To show how stoned they actually are  - and how the horrors of war can warp a man -  the entire camp start rubbing themselves up and wolf whistling when Tisa Farrow turns up.

I'd just like to point out that I'm in no way saying she's not attractive but she's standing next to a wet David Warbeck clad only in a vest and too tight combats.

And that's enough to turn anyones head.

Luckily for Tisa, Major Sparks - despite being camp as pants and having little thin rubber legs - is actually a rather nice man and at the first sign of any Donald Trump style behavior from his troops send those responsible pole vaulting behind enemy lines to fetch him a coconut or two.

"Look! a telescope with a mouse in it!"

But this jolly japery can't last forever and it's not too long before the oft-mentioned 'Charlie' (a character we never learn the true identity of) attack the cave system, kidnap Tisa and machine gun everyone inside.

Except for Morris and his buddies obviously.

Escaping to the local boating pond, Carlos is cruelly killed whilst stealing a junk (as opposed to firing it everywhere) whilst Washington clumsily trips over a corpse and snaps his leg in half, giving him and Morris a wee chance to discuss the futility of war and stuff.

After a series of meaningful glances Morris jumps overboard (either to continue his mission or because he can't stand anymore of the incredibly stilted and frighteningly clichéd dialogue), leaving Washington at the mercy of the Viet Cong machine gun nests serendipitously hidden around the next bend.

Which is a bit of a bastardy thing to do if you think about it.

"Aya! Mah BCG!"

With a look of grim determination (or constipation, it's hard to tell) Morris continues further into the jungle, alone and armed with only a kids spud gun and a sweat mottled pair of man breasts, determined to complete his mission before heading home for tea and crumpets.

Nice as this idea is it soon all goes tits up when he's captured by the ever present Charlie and dumped shoe-less in a rat infested water cage with only a man with a melted cheese face for company.

Can anyone help our hero?

Well Tisa's sitting sipping rice tea in a holiday chalet overlooking the prison (and the rent) so hopefully she'll get up off her fat arse and finally add something to the plot....

But will she be able to waddle down to rescue Morris before the rats begin to nibble on his man bits?

"Hey Tisa, is that your
brother in law shagging your niece?"

Genre busting genius Antonio (Bed of a Thousand Pleasures, Cannibal Apocalypse, Yor, the Hunter from the Future and Code Name: Wild Geese amongst others) Margheriti's The Last Hunter has everything Apocalypse Now! should have had (including a considerably shorter running time) and much more.

Except zombies unfortunately but you can't have everything.

It's pedigree is second to none featuring as it does star turns from Fulci faves David Warbeck and Tisa Farrow aided and abetted by a top cast of Italian icons including Bobby (Demoni) Rhodes, John (Tenebrae) Steiner and Margit Evelyn (Zombie Creeping Flesh) Newton.

Behind the scenes it has cult composer Franco (everything from Black Demons to music featured on the Death Proof and Ren and Stimpy show soundtracks) Micalizzi's sexy synth sounds and craftily crude special effects from the Philipino Savini himself Apollonio Abadesa.

"Fuck me! a wasp!"

And although Margheriti's entire career seems to have consisted of making cheap knock offs of bigger, more famous movies the director didn't seem to mind, giving his all and making the most of the motley assortment of the clichéd characters and situations in evidence.

From the hard bitten soldiers to the snatches of inappropriate nudity via scenes of extreme violence, Margheriti also manages to fill the movie with just enough cod "war is hell" speeches to almost convince you that you're actually watching something worthwhile and meaningful as opposed to just sitting eagerly awaiting the next over the top death scene or the chance of a quick look at Tisa Farrow's (admittedly) rather shapely breasts.

And if that doesn't get you salivating then I don't know what will.

Quite possibly THE greatest Vietnam based war movie starring David Warbeck ever made.

And you can't get higher praise than that.

cod only knows.

Yes I know I'm meant to be doing the whole 'films set in 2019' thing - oh yes and some work too - but just realised that this classic turns 40 this year so reckoned it's as good a time as ever to give it a rewatch.

L'Isola Degli Uomini Pesce (AKA The Island of the Fishmen, Screamers, Something Waits in the Dark, 1979).
Dir: Sergio Martino (and the enigmatic Miller Drake).
Starring: Barbara Bach, Richard Johnson, Bobby Rhodes, Claudio Cassinelli,  Joseph Cotton and depending on what version you watch maybe even Cameron Mitchell, Mel Ferrer, Tom J. Delaney, and Olympic sprinter Eunice Bolt.

Be Warned: You will actually see a man turned inside-out. Only you wont unless you're watching the trailer for the Corman recut.

It's a Johnny Depp free Caribbean Sea sometime in 1891 (tho' it's more like 1981 by the cut of the trousers) and we join our story as a bobbity boat approaches a mysterious fog enshrouded island that looks uncannily like Bronson Caves in Griffith Park in Los Angeles from a distance.

That can't be right tho' seeing as this is a cheap n' cheerful lo-fi Italian monster flick.

Oh right, this must be the bits Roger Corman did to beef up the running time/quality for a more sophisticated audience.

Anyway back to the plot where aboard the aforementioned steamer is the bubble-pipe blowing salty sea dog Captain Blacken Decker (professional scenery chewer Mitchell) who's been hired to bring failed gambler - both onscreen and off - Daniel Radcliffe (Mel 'my illustrious career' Ferrer) and his 'beautiful' wife Samantha (Bolt) to search the island for a fabulous buried treasure fabled to lie in the spookily monikered Cave of the Dead.

Which is nice.

Wandering into the dark opening Daniel and Samantha soon stumble across some shite-encrusted pound shop skeletons clutching a big bag of chocolate coins and excitedly head back to the boat.

Which makes you think that if the treasure was so easy to find why has no-one else bothered getting it before now?

Well that might have something to do with the killer fishmen (hidden in the shadows to make it easier to match them to the original costumes later) that are currently ripping the heads off the crew before getting to work on our three guest stars.

It might only be a cameo for Ferrer but don't worry too much, Nightmare City awaits.

"Is it in yet?"

A new day dawns on different film stock (and in a totally different location, we're now in the Philippines, where permits are cheap) as we start the film good and proper - and as the original director intended -  with ships doctor Kemp De Ross (the late, great Claudio Cassinelli) and some criminal types drifting ashore on the same island (honest) after the prison ship they were traveling on ended up  sinking during a typhoon.

Waking on a pleasant Club 18-30 style beach De Ross is unnerved by the discovery of the dead body of one the prisoners, I've no idea why tho'...seeing as he's just been thru' a typhoon and a boat smashing but hey perhaps he has a fear of damp corduroy who knows? anyway he soon comes to his senses and heads off to look for survivors.

From the shipwreck that is not episodes of the hit 70s Terry Nation show.

Tho' Ian McCulloch turning up probably wouldn't do this movie any harm.

Almost immediately he runs across a small group of drip drying criminals who've decided to pass the time shouting 'I'm going to kill/bugger/eat/pick on you!' at the only other surviving authority figure whilst shaking their fists in a fairly comical manner hoping among hope that the dubbing director does them justice.

No chance really but they can but dream.

Luckily for the viewer the palatable air of community drama group tension is soon dissipated when slimy French crim Francois (probably one of the paparazzi responsible for Princess Di's crash) is ripped to pieces by a large half man/half Cod with big stick on finger nails.

Laugh now!

The convicts react as anyone would in this situation and run screaming and shouting into the trees and straight into an ancient tribal burial ground full of empty graves.

By this point I was sure that they run aground on the worlds most clichéd - and cheapest -  haunted house attraction.

All that's missing is a few rubber snakes draped on the branches.

Jose (a nice criminal), in what is probably the films best scene starts shouting about how the whole thing "reeks of that voodoo shit....reckon that the island is full o' zombies getting ready to eat our asses!"

Which if it did happen would make this an altogether different and probably much more entertaining film.

Maybe a wee bit like this one.

Unfortunately no zombies (ass eating or otherwise) show up but a rubber snake - which is indeed hanging of a tree -  does but any slithery shenanigans are cut short by the shooting skills of the 70's breasted, fluffy haired Amanda (The Spy Who Loved Me, The Humanoid and Caveman star Bach) who then - either quite enigmatically or quite woodenly) wanders off into the undergrowth.

My head is in a spin
My feet don't touch the ground
Because you're near to me
My head goes round and round
My knees are skakin' baby
My heart it beats like a drum

It feels like
It feels like I'm in love....with a huge cod.

Being deprived of any female contact for months our motley crew follow thru' the 'jungle' (OK it's a garden centre but at least they're trying) to a big house - a very big house in the country possibly - guarded by fierce looking natives.

Well I say fierce natives but the cruel reality is it's guarded by some obviously uncomfortable extras - probably the local jobseekers group) hastily facepainted and forced into tiny leather pants and a collection of feathery festooned hats.

It's a living I guess.

Turns out that the house belongs to a rich bad man named Edmund Rackham (Zombie Flesh Eaters star Johnson) who purchased the island on Ebay and is busy working alongside bubbly Babs, her kindly scientist dad (B-movie stalwart and father of Ferne, Cotton) and the chicken killing Voodoo priestess cum maid Shakira (the slinky-hipped pop princess herself  in her first film role) on some project or other that will upon completion benefit the whole of humanity.

Or at least his wallet.

You know my hips don't lie. ... Oh I know I am on tonight my hips don't lie. your fingers smell of salt and vinegar chipstiks.

Invited to lunch De Ross (and by default us) soon learns that the island is in fact all that remains of Atlantis - and no I didn't see that coming - and Rackham is planning to steal all of the fabled Atlantean gold in order to fund a worldwide chain of hat shops catering for the larger headed man.

It appears that as a child Rackham was cruelly taunted at school for having an overly large brow meaning that his school cap didn't fit so he had to wear a discarded pair of his fathers pants instead.

Trust me I know what that can do to a child.

Realizing that this might be too big a job for just the four of them - and the fact that the treasure is lying within a temple two thousand feet below the surface - Rackham has decided to employ the local fish men - on zero hour contracts obviously - as a labour force.

Obviously he's never visited The Cave of the Dead, that place is full of the stuff.

Maybe he's been too busy to take a stroll along the beach?

Or maybe, just maybe the continuity between the original film and Corman's footage is just shit?

Answers to the normal address.

But Rackham has a secret.

It seems that the drug addicted fish folk working for him are not, as De Ross thought, the survivors of a long forgotten race but something much more sinister....

Well I say sinister but let's be honest how sinister can a man in an oversided mackerel mask actually be?

Same shit, different smell.

Best known for his Giallo work (oh yes and the star studded spleen sucker  Mountain of The Cannibal God) director Sergio Martino, for his first foray into sci-fi pays tribute to H G Wells (specifically his novel The Island Of Dr. Moreau)  and luckily for us it's way more entertaining than the big budget Moreau movie starring Burt Lancaster that was released two years previously.

Which sounds like damning with faint praise but heyho.

And at least with Martino's vision we're spared the sight of Richard Basehart dolled up like an albino Care Bear and Michael York in an ill fitting set of Austin Powers style teeth.

In its favour tho' it does have Barbara Carrera pretending to be a slinky cat whereas Martino is stuck with Barbara Bach attempting to emulate (and failing) a large piece of plywood.

And bizarrely enough both Johnson and Lancaster appear to be wearing the same costumes - and fake facial hair - perhaps there was a sale on?

So swings and roundabouts really.

Barbara Carrera: hairy back and arse.

But back to The Island of the Fishmen (or Screamers or is it Something Waits in the Dark? Fucked if I know) where whatever the film lacks in budget (or good sense) it more than makes up for in pizazz, the monster suits aren't too shoddy - in a sort of community panto way that is, the island location is stunning and the sets look fairly sturdy whilst the cast (Bach excepted) seem to be taking it seriously enough.

Which is nice.

Martino regular Cassinelli is his usual reliable self and makes a likable hero whilst 'B' movie stalwarts Richard Johnson and Joseph Cotton battle to see who can soar the highest without the use of drugs or wings, chewing the scenery like giant Godzilla's and filling the screen with menacing ticks, large hats and mad eyed stares.

It's like watching a Euro-horror face off between an evil Chuckle Brothers.

Just slightly sexier obviously.

"I can see your house from here Peter"

Talking of sexiness it's at this point that Roger Corman steps into the picture - not literally mind but take a moment to imagine the great man himself turning up halway thru' and fighting an army of fishmen, cinema gold I'm sure you'll agree - when his New World Pictures acquired distribution rights to the film.

Thinking the original cut lacked a certain something (gore and an appearance by cinema slut Cameron Mitchell), Corman hired his teaboy Miller Drake to write and direct a new opening for the film alongside some new gore FX from
his paperboy at the time Chris Walas.

Enjoying his experiences so much Walas gave up delivering newspapers and took up special make-up effects full time, going on to work on such movies as Gremlins, Return of The Jedi and, um, The Fly II.

Which just goes to show that nobodies perfect.

He was also charged with beefing up the half man/ half cod reveal near the films climax which saw the originals frankly terrifying Giger-esque paper mache  monstrosity replaced with a far more subtle - and slimier - Creature From The Black Lagoon tribute.

It was upon seeing these changes at a Halloween showing given by John Landis that gave George Lucas the idea for the Star Wars special editions and so he began to retool and reimagine his movies in the hope of achieving the same stunning realism that Walas did all those years ago.

And for only 30 quid.

And so in the summer of 1980 and with its title changed to Something Waits in the Dark the film was finally unleashed on the American public.

Unfortunately no-one bothered to go see it.

Probably in part to having the worst fucking poster design this side of Rick Melton's deranged, tit-fueled scribblings.

Oh and that wibbly-wobbly blood font didn't help.

Undeterred (and not wanting to waste any cash) Corman called his gardener 'Jungle' Jim Wynorski and asked him what he would do to make the movie a hit.

After a brief pause Wynorski suggested replacing the fishmen with a collection of flesh-eating conifers (he'd just bought a job lot and had them lying about in his shed), retitling the film Screamers and adding a scene where a man gets turned inside-out.

This latter part was due to him suffering from organophobia (a fear of internal organs) an affliction he'd suffered from since he was a child and meant that he always wore paper suits in public.

Unable to afford treatment on a gardeners salary Wynorski decided that by featuring such a scene in the movie he could face his fear and hopefully cure himself.

And by default others too.

The thought of being able to help sufferers of such a terrible condition was too great an opportunity for Corman to pass up (as was the chance of some cheap trees for his garden but that's another story) but there was a major problem.

The film had already been booked for a re-release the following week so there was only time to change the title card before it shipped to the cinemas.

Undeterred Corman allowed Wynorski to shoot the inside out man specifically for the trailer thinking that even if folk didn't go to see the actual movie - either because their phobia may stop them or just that they thought it looked shite - the fact that it would be in the preview might even reach and maybe even cure more people.

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRANGERS!

The title changed seemed to do the trick and within a month of its release in June 1981, it became the biggest ever box office hit to be named Screamers and starring Barbara Bach ever released.

A record it still holds to this day.

And what of Jim Wynorski?

Luckily the film not only cured his organophobia but cemented his love of directing with him going on to direct such classics as Sharkansas Women's Prison Massacre, The Hills Have Thighs, Busty Cops 2 and Vampirella.

And for that we should be eternally grateful to Lord Roger.

Actually they don't....the girl standing in front of the hills does. Plus if you want to be precise about it that's a mountain range.

As a curious aside back in 1995 (ask your mum) Sergio Martino returned to his magnum opus and directed a straight to TeeVee pseudo-sequel entitled The Fishmen and Their Queen featuring the Romanian-born Italian actress, singer, model and politician Ramona Badescu (as the Queen obviously).

Under the sea and inside my mooth.

Taking it's cues (and a shit-load of footage) from his 1983 hit 2019: After the Fall of New York, the 'plot' (what there is of it) follows the adventures of a couple of grubby teens as they escape from a post apocalyptic New York in the hope of finding a better life.

Tho' what life could be better than living the Italian movie dream is beyond me.

After a few so-so adventures that unfortunately don't feature either of them selling their arses for food they happen across an old tramp named Jeff  Socrates (Alien 2: On Earth's Mr Raymond himself Donald Hodson) who offers to take them to the island from the first movie because rumour has it that it's the only place on earth untouched by the nuclear fallout released during World War III.

Tho' by the state of the fishfolks massive green heads you'd be hard pushed to tell.

As you can probably guess it was utter shite, 

Tho' Badescu does wear a pretty crown in it, coming across like a council estate MiLF version of Ariel from The Little Mermaid.
 
Which is nice but probably not reason enough to bother searching for it.

My that's a bit of a sad way to end isn't it?

Sorry.