beast wars.

Last looked at this way back in 2016 for that whole 31 days of horror thing that no-one ever notices I do and recently discovered that it had only gotten 4 views.

I reckon this was because:

A. It's not horror.

B. It's shite.

Tho' it may be because my blog is utter rubbish.

Nah, can't be that one.

La Bestia nello spazio (AKA Beast in Space, The Beast of Space 1978)
Dir: Alfonso Brescia (AKA Al Bradly....like that makes any difference)
Cast: Sirpa Lane (as Shirpa Lane), Vassili Karis, Lucio Rosato, Venantino Venantini, Marina Hedman and Maria D'Alessandro.

Please note: the costume is not this convincing (and Shirpa's arse isn't that big).

Sometime in the far, far future and somewhere in the inky blackness of space in a place where swimming caps are de rigeur and droopy facial hair is the law what appears to be a Petits Filous pot with a few bendy straws attached gracefully drifts thru' the heavens towards Space Station Gerard.

Well, that's what it sound like on my scratchy 5th generation VHS copy.

Aboard is the Tefal headed, pube haired John Holmes alike Captain Larry Madison (Karis, wearing Gianni Garko's hand-me-downs from the directors other SciFi opus Sette uomini d'oro nello spazio), ready for some much needed rest and recreation.

Slinking into the station bar like a tiger in heat he zero's in on a bubble permed space babe with an out of this world plunging neckline propping up the corner of the bar, with teeth like tombstones he smiles sexily before ordering "A bottle of Uranus".

The plot (?) screeches to a standstill allowing us to marvel at Madison's chat up techniques and gaze in awe at the spacey costumes on show but luckily - after what seems like 17 hours - a bar room brawl breaks out (which I guess gives it the edge on The Next Generation), giving Captain Studly the excuse he needs to drag the space babe off for some interstellar lovin'.


Fuck yeah.

"Is it in yet?"

Obviously fast-forward thru' these sausage-based shenanigans to get to the plot (look I haven't got all day) where it transpires that during a wee bout of post-coital snoozing the nameless perm headed lady begins to have vivid (and very saucy) dreams about a woman in a toga being chased thru' a forest by a hairy monster with a massive erection.

Or it may be a horse seeing as they only show its hooves.

By that I mean the creature, the woman most definitely has feet.

Tho' if any women are reading this that are afflicted with a condition that gives them hoof-like feet please don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine.

But I digress.

It's not too surprising that she awakes screaming with terror and leaps straight into the arms of Madison for comfort who, after a wee bit of concerned face acting and a few back pats, makes his excuses and jogs away to 'space captain headquarters' to report for his next exciting mission.

Inside Theresa May's mind.

Busily discussing space and stuff with his man-breasted colleagues Madison quickly tires of of the endless chats regarding time factor warps and the moons of Uranus so quickly changes the subject by mentioning the Christmas tree a bauble he, um 'found' during the pub fight, excitedly showing it to his pals he's amazed to discover that it is, in fact a piece of Entalium.

Admit it, you never saw that coming.

It appears that this ultra-rare element is crucial to the construction of the space fleets weapons or something, so Madison is ordered to retrieve more from a mysterious planet ASAP as the safety of the universe relies on the missions success.

Tho' surely it'd be easier just to ask the crewman he stole it off if he has any more?

Nah that'd be silly plus we still have 60 odd minutes of sexy space adventure to fill.

Madison accepts the challenge but explains that he's got to return to the bar first to shag, sorry recruit Lt. Sondra Richardson (harsh faced Euro soft core babe Sirpa Lane) an expert in Entalium extraction before raiding the dressing up box in the hope of finding enough bri-nylon romper suits for everyone and blasting off into the unknown.

"Are you looking at my bra?"

Minutes into the journey tho' things start to get a bit strange as Sondra too begins to have saucy dreams about the petrifyingly penised predator.

Could it be linked to the spooky glowing Entalium?

To be honest no one seems to care, so they continue on towards the planet where, upon landing the crew are confronted by its enigmatic alien leader - possibly named Geoff or something, I too was past caring by this point - and his followers.

Ask your mum.

It seems that he's been telepathically sending saucy messages to Sondra in the hope that she'll shag him.

He must be a fan of her early work.

But hopefully not Papaya Of The Caribbean tho' seeing as it really is utter shite.

Understandably curious as to how Geoff would think that transmitting beast-based bonking across time and space would in any way be helpful in attracting the attentions of a passing spacecraft our brave crew members are surprised to find Geoff not guilty.

Being both beefcake-like and brainy, Madison  - alongside Geoff and his horny horde - soon realize that someone or something else on the planet is responsible for the spate of phantom fanny fiddling currently affecting the ships female crew members.

But to what ends?

Peow!

Will the crew escape with the Entalium before they're forced into an alien sex orgy?

Will Sondra end up shagging both the centaur and the alien leader?

Will the alien leader then be revealed as a shite cardboard robot who has taken human form in order to truly understand the human condition of love?


Will any of the shoddily inserted sex scenes actually feature the pervily puffy-lipped MiLF Marina Frajese - the star of Play Hotel - seeing as this is one of the reasons I purchased this.


Look I've been a huge fan of hers since she absolutely nailed the role of the first girl at the audition in the 1978 classic How to Lose a Wife and Find a Lover, so sue me.

But more importantly will there be a pound shop light saber fight?

The answer to the last one is yes by the way.

I wouldn't want one of them swimming up my arse.

Part Italian Star Wars rip-off, part re-make of Walerian Borowczk's erotic masterpiece La Bete, part unedited glimpses into the mind of a madman - La Bestia nello spazio transcends not only genre pigeonholing but all boundaries of good taste and coherent storytelling in one fell swoop.   

Which is pretty good going seeing as up until this point director Alfonso Brescia was best known (feared?) for such threadbare fantasy epics as The Terror of Rome Against the Son of Hercules and The Magnificent Gladiator.

Like most folk at the time tho' he decided to make a - drunken and clumsy sausage fingered - move into the space opera genre after seeing Star Wars (tho' from his work I'd be more inclined to believe it was after seeing Bleep and Booster) bringing us the classics Battaglie negli spazi stellari (Cosmos: War of the Planets) and the cleverly titled sequel War of the Robots as well as giving us the robot invasion movie Star Odyssey.

Always one to save a bit of cash (usually by employing non-actors and getting his kids to write the scripts) Brescia often utilized the same sets and costumes in every one of his space epics, giving an (unintentional) uniformity to his visions of the future that lesser films such as the Star Trek franchise failed to deliver.

Saying that they also failed to deliver scenes of Lt. Uhura rubbing one off whilst watching a couple of horses copulate in a field but heyho.

But whilst his earlier works are (kinda) kid friendly action packed - well I say packed -  romps, La Bestia nello spazio plays out like a kinda cheap (and much dirtier) Italian version of Torchwood.

Albeit a version that's been totally lobotomized rather than just beaten around the head a few times.

Tho' the fucking abysmal Cyberwoman episode comes close.

"...And if you pop this jar of liver in the microwave for a few minutes it'll feel just like fanny!"

Saying that tho' if Torchwood had attempted a Gwen Cooper/alien donkey sex episode (rumour has it that it would have been the opening episode of series 4 before they canned it for Children of Earth) you know for a fact the beast would have been slightly more convincing than the one on show here.

Plus let's be honest, Eve Myles has a much nicer arse than Sirpa Lane.

And not just because Lane's been dead for over 17 years.

Shite in mah....oh that's not shite is it?

Talking of Sirpa Lane (which I must admit is quite often) how does La Bestia nello spazio compare to Walerian Borowczk's aforementioned - and better known - Euro-tic shagfest and is it worthy of comparison?

For those of you who've never experienced the joy of Borowczk's take on Beauty and The Beast (as in the film, your dad drunkenly coming into your room and fondling you under the covers doesn't count)  here's a wee bit of background.

Filmed in 1975 it tells the story of the nutty Esperance family, whose financial stability depends on a marriage between their nuckle dragging son, Mathurin and young English girl Lucy Broadhurst.

Here come the Belgians!

When she arrives arrives at the family home she becomes obsessed with their most (in)famous ancestor, Romilda (Lane in a huge powdered wig and a lacy undies), whose torn corset - bizarrely enough -  has pride of place in the family living room.

This is after all European so we should embrace such things.

With nothing to fill her time (her betrothed is poorly) Lucy comes across - not in that way, at least not yet - Romilda's diary and soon begins to experience feverishly erotic dreams about her sexual encounters with a huge hairy beast in the woods.

Cue much Chuckle Hounds-based buggery and the like.

Now as great as La Bete is (especially if you like seeing ladies in 18th century garb being chased thru' woods by men in crap bear suits with big black rubber cocks attached and let's be frank about this - who doesn't?) no-one in their right mind would think it'd translate into a great (or not even a fair to middling) Science Fiction movie no matter how drunk they were, but it seems that director Brescia wanted to prove us all wrong showing that you can mix soft core porn and Sci-Fi for a family audience.

Which if nothing else you should at least admire the balls of the guy.

If not the hastily painted paper-mache ones on the space beast.

What your girlfriend really gets up to on her girls nights out.

Worth a look if you're an Italian Sci-Fi completist, Shirpa Lane fan or if you have an appreciation of pantomime animal costume sex romps.


And if you tick all three boxes tho' this'll be your favourite movie of all time.

Scarily there will be someone out there that this'll apply to.

God help them.



Next time something good.


I promise.

the late late deadfast show.

Been n the garden today lazing about and imagining what a post-Covid world would look like.....

Warriors of The Year 2072 (AKA Fighting Centurions, Rome, 2072 A.D., The New Gladiators. 1984).
Dir: Lucio Fulci.
Cast: Jared Martin, Fred Williamson, Howard Ross, Eleonora Brigliadori, Cosimo Cinieri, Claudio Cassinelli, Al Cliver, Haruiko Yamanouchi, Penny Brown, Valerie Jones and Donal O'Brien.

"It was math that saved us!"

It's the near future (2072 to be precise but I guess you knew that) and  - after a nuclear war probably - all of planet Earth's major cities have been rebuilt using Lego, egg boxes and toilet rolls, topped off with Christmas tree lights.

The only outlet for the citizens of this new square world order are violent teevee shows (well two of them) broadcast daily to keep the populace subdued and entertained.

Purves: Purveyor of teevee violence and fan of Steven's tailor.

The biggest of these is 'Death Bike', a cross between Junior Kick Start (albeit without Peter Purves) and a Friday night out in the centre of Dudley where a bunch of mad men on motorcycles kick seven shades of shite out of each other until only one is left standing.

Well, sitting actually.

On a bike.

Obviously.

Undefeated world champion of Death Bike is the enigmatically bubble-permed Drake (Martin, pigeon chested star of teevee's Dallas, War of the Worlds and Fantastic Journey) but more of him later.

The other show is called 'Pretend Scares' or something similar and features (from what I can gather from the little amount of it shown) a sweaty woman with hi-tech wires attached to her head watching clips of old Fulci movies and having to pretend that:

A. It's real.

and

B. She's not really scared.

It'll come as no surprise to find that ratings for this have been slipping more than Michael J Fox on an icy path, so the makers of 'Pretend Scares' (after failing to get 'Bastards Hole' past the pilot stage) decided to resurrect the age old idea of the gladiatorial arena.

Huge cotton bud or tiny lady?

This ultra-violent battle of the damned (but not featuring Dave Vanian) will see twelve convicted killers (minus Brandon Flowers and Dave Keuning obviously) slug it out in a modern day Roman Coliseum until only one survives.

To make certain it'll be a sure fire ratings winner, the slimy teevee executive in charge, Bob Cortez (an unusually clean shaven Cassinelli) decides to firstly employ Chris Chibnall as show runner before hiring what looks like Spandau Ballet to murder Drake's hot young wife and then framing him for their subsequent murder.

Really it does make sense when you watch it.

Bigger than Trumps.

Taken in chains to the training area before being given a sexy bracelet (tho' no pearl necklace) that can administer pain, Drake is introduced to his fellow combatants including genre king Al Cliver as the hunky Kirk, The Last Hunter's Yamanouchi and Fred Williamson as the super suave Tommy Abdul.

There are a few other folk but frankly none of them are that memorable.

Under the auspice of evil trainer Frank Raven (Ross from such classics as The New York Ripper, Naked Werewolf Woman and Poppea: A Prostitute in Service of the Emperor) Drake endures, oh, minutes of torture and bench presses before he begins to break the corporations programming.

It seems that he's starting to realise that he didn't kill Tony Hadley and co. after all and that it may a massive conspiracy.

Luckily the janitor of the faculty, an ex-racer named Monk (Doctor Butcher himself, O'Brien), is an old friend of Drakes who had to leave show business after accidentally melting his face in a freak infomercial recording and who now along with his sexy computer boffin sidekick Sarah (the fantastically fringed ultra-MILF Brigliadori from Beyond Kilimanjaro, Across the River of Blood and, um, my dreams) have decided to investigate Drake's story, uncovering as they do a plot by Junior (the sentient computer that runs the station) to do some bad stuff to folk.

Oh yes and take over the world.

Luckily our heroes have a plan.

"OK muthafuckas! Who's
ready for a mooth shite-in?"

Whilst Sarah goes to visit Junior's creator, Monk makes our hero swallow a magic silver Lego brick that enables him to open doors and turn off force-fields by simply pulling his cum face and it's with this special gift our hero plans his escape.

Whilst all this sex face fun is going on, Sarah has gone to visit Professor Towman (Murder Rock's Cinieri, tastefully covered head to toe in gravy and with a red spot daubed on his forehead), the inventor of Junior to see if the computer could really be mental.

He reckons not but gives Sarah a special key to his control room and a box of plans to turn him off just in case.

Which is pretty bloody lucky seeing as the next instant he's shot and killed as is - the not as attractive as Sarah - Sybil (Brown, the costume designer on Fatal Frames) a bad lady that was sent to follow our heroine (to pick up fashion tips I reckon).

Would you believe it tho' because Monk was also following Sarah (and by default Sybil) and manages to sneak Sarah out of the building under his coat and back to the studio in time to see Drake and his merry band recaptured and made to do sweaty press-ups over an electric floor as punishment.

"And here come the Belgians!"

As the clock counts down and the contestants are preparing for battle, Sarah races to find the key to stopping Junior and save humanity from death by crafty computer....

His slash-tastic horror tendencies exhausted (for a short while at least) after the sleazy hate-fest that was The New York Ripper, Lucio Fulci decided to take time out from spooky scares and throat cutting (well, maybe not from throat cutting) to bring us this fantastically accurate prediction of the rise of reality teevee and corporate whoredom, never realising how prophetic the films concepts were to become.

His trademark visual style, surreal plotting and (sometimes over) use of extreme close-ups (usually of actors pulling what appear to be officially termed their 'sex faces') are all present and correct, adding a sense of the comfortable to the otherwise alienating futuristic feel of the film and Fulci's predilection for copious amounts of blood and violence firmly place the characters in the here and now for it seems that no matter how shiny and silver the future will become blood will always be deep red.

The cast with it's familiar Fulci regular faces and smooth, mini-skirted thighs (yes, that's you Eleonora Brigliadori) play their roles with a stoic, earnest conviction rarely seen outside the Hallmark Channels true life drama output whilst Fred Williamson, so obviously on autopilot whilst awaiting his delivery of malt beer and cigars, is still better than any number of similarly disinterested actors not named Fred Williamson tho' if I'm honest it's scary to see chisel jawed sex pest Al Cliver slowly morph into a puffy cheeked hamster during the duration of a movie.

Eleonora Brigliadori today,
just because I can.

Three years before Arnie became The Running Man, Jared Martin was The Biking Bully and Fulci was showing the world the future as would be.

Genius? Prophet? Mad man or just lucky?

Or a mix of all four?

YOU decide!

(egg) box frenzy

Rewatched - and re-reviewed - this t'other month for the first issue of Crypt of Cult magazine (still available to buy over at Amazon, it makes a brilliant lockdown read) and soon realised that it doesn't ever get the love it deserves.

A wee bit like your sister really.

Plus it's kinda scarily pertinent right now seeing as it has infections and exploding eggs in it.

Well it has infections, not seen any exploding eggs in Aldi recently.

Tho' I did come across some angry gammon in Morrison's.

No seriously, I overheard someone blaming remainers (oh and 'those Chinese') for Covid 19 last week....she was sweatily shouting how "There's a certain country that will have to pay!"

Hopefully she didn't mean pay for her cake bill cos if she did they'd be fucking bankrupt.

But I digress.

Something something borders something something immigrants something something taking back control something something blue passports etc.

So where do you start with such a review?

Of the film I mean not discussing the casual racism.

With a brief resume of the directors career methinks.

(I'm actually getting paid by the word for this one).

From writing for the famous Italian movie magazine Galaxy and co-authoring Four Flies on Grey Velvet to directing such classics as Lou Ferrigno's big screen debut Hercules, Argento contemporary cum shopkeeper Cozzi's career trajectory has been nothing if not interesting.

Obviously you'll have to check out a film book/blog that cares about annoying things like facts and interesting content if you want to know more.

Tho' seeing as you're in lockdown right now there are three films in particular stand out from his resume that you should watch ASAP - the frankly indescribable Caroline Munro starring Argento/Three Mothers sequel/tribute The Black Cat, the Caroline Munro (again, does he have dodgy pics of her stashed away?)/David Hasslehoff space fantasy Starcrash and the bloody magnificent...

Contamination (AKA Alien Contamination, Contamination: Alien on Earth, Toxic Spawn. 1980)

Dir: Luigi Cozzi (AKA Lewis Coates).

Cast: Ian McCulloch, Louise Marleau, Marino Mase, Carlo De Mejo, your mum  and a big green jelly.

Opening as most 80's Italian horror movies do - with grainy aerial shots of New York cut to a totally inappropriate synth score (this time supplied by Italy's finest prog rock legends Goblin) - Contamination begins with a mysterious 'ghost ship' approaching the harbour.

Not the one from Zombie Flesh Eaters tho', that was last weekend.

New York's finest, Lieutenant Tony Aris (played by the fantastically tanned Marino Mase) calls on the bizarrely out of (lip) synch Dr. Turner to explore the ship with him and a group of faceless (literally, they're all wearing bio-hazard masks) cops, who after wandering around in the dark for ten minutes come across the bloodied remains of the crew.

Turner is shocked, it appears that everyone on board either:

A. was replaced by shoddily cut up shop window dummies covered in cow intestines and jam.
or
B. exploded.

"Shite in mah....oh."

After depositing their lunch over one of the corpses (as you do) our intrepid band carefully creep into the ships hold, only to discover boxes upon boxes marked 'café' and a big green glowing egg under a pipe.

If that wasn't enough to make even the bravest man fill his trousers a strange and otherworldly noise, akin to a rusty tuba being played by an asthmatic beagle is spookily echoing around the hold.

Poking the egg with a pencil, Turner is shocked to see it burst open, showering him and all the team (save Lieutenant Aris) with what looks like a mix of PVA glue, green poster paint and KY jelly that has the fairly unusual effect of making all the non speaking extras stomachs explode leaving Aris looking slightly bewildered and the audience ready for 90 minutes of pure terror.

Probably.

"How'd you like your eggs love?"

Aris is whisked away to a top secret military base run by the, um, 'lovely' Colonel Stella Holmes (Marleau), who after stripping him naked, giving him an old blanket and locking him in a big fish tank explains that she runs a special operations unit (Section 5) specifically set up to combat the menace of scary eggs and would he like to join?

You would....and your Granddad probably did. Twice.

Aris jumps at the chance and, clad in a pair of Quick Fit overalls, accompanies Colonel Holmes and co. to a warehouse 'downtown' where they find what looks like a cut-price version of jive talking Italian 'B' god Bobby Rhodes guarding hundreds of the so-called killer eggs.

As the soldiers advance replica-Rhodes bursts one of the eggs causing him and his buddies stomachs to explode leaving the surviving eggs free to be destroyed by flame thrower equipped soldiers.

I have to be honest and admit that I'm really at a loss to explain the logic behind his plan.

"He did WHAT in his cup?"

If nothing else tho' it does allow Holmes to take a couple of them away to examine giving her time to deduce that these eggs could only have come from Mars and that they were brought back by astronauts on the last mission there.

You see, it appears that one of the crew, 'Mutha' Hubbard (played to angry ginger haired Scottish perfection by Italian horror veteran McCulloch) had been ranting about finding a cavern full of big green tuba playing eggs on the red planet but his usually jolly and humorous co-pilot cum ex-UKIP councilor Neil Hamilton, had calmly (some would say too calmly - as if possessed) told everyone Hubbard was a mentalist.

Rather than find a way of checking his story Colonel Holmes had him locked up.

Now there's only one thing she can do.

Yup, go round to his house, slag off his sexual prowess, apologize for calling him mad and ask him to join a secret mission to South America to investigate the company exporting the eggs.

McCulloch sighs, swigs some more Heineken and slaps the colonel round the head before agreeing to join her.

Well, he is out of booze and it's carnival season down there.

Cue stock footage of a radio-controlled plane, mixed with shots of holiday makers, children in big hats smoking cigars, Aris in a pair of obscenely tight trousers and white socks and we're off to the hotel.

But our heroes are being watched.

Hamilton didn't die in a mysterious plane crash (I forgot to mention that sorry) but is in fact running the alien egg export company and his got something big, throbbing and slimy just for Colonel Holmes.....

Your Gran's cum face. Possibly.

It's a race against time to rescue the by now showering Stella - c'mon she's fairly fit for an old bird - and save the world.

Will they discover the secret of Hamilton's link to the eggs?

Will Aris get his leg over with Holmes or will his quickfire one liners fail to ignite her passions?

Why has Hubbard stolen a plane without telling anyone (to find more Heineken apparently)?

And will they survive an audience with the pant wetting terror that is 'the alien cyclops'?

With his career catapulted into the stratosphere (sort of) with the success of Starcrash, director Luigi Cozzi decided that his follow up would also be a sci-fi epic and turned his dreamy eyes to Ridley Scott's film Alien for inspiration.

Luckily for him (and us) his producers agreed.

But how could anyone attempt to match the cinematic perfection that was - and still is - the Scott classic?

It's with this solution that Cozzi cemented himself as a true genius of modern cinema.

Forgoing the tight editing, oppressive cinematography and top-notch casting of his inspiration Cozzi decided to take the opposite route and with it's Shoddily shot, inanely plotted action scenes and a cast that appears to be sleep walking (yes my friends even Ian McCulloch), Contamination not so much pays homage to Alien than breaks into its house, strips Ridley's classic naked, bundles it in a cupboard and sticks its toothbrush up its arse before getting it's dog pissed and putting lipstick on it.

Under blue moon I saw you
So soon you'll take me
Up in your arms
Too late to beg you or cancel it
Though I know it must be the killing time
Unwillingly mine...Fuck me it's a massive egg!

Unfortunately audiences mistook this brave almost Cinéma vérité style for genuine cackhandedness and stayed away in droves whereas in the UK the films stark realism was mistaken for a documentary leading the film to end up banned as one of the notorious 'video nasties' that your granddad keeps harping on about.

That's right, you could be prosecuted for owning this back in the day.

But luckily not for making it.

Eventually the truth was discovered during the infamous Wikileaks saga and the film was rushed onto DVD to terrify a new generation.

And talking to that generation directly I'd just like to say can YOU find a more enjoyable egg based, exploding chest filled Eurohorror than this one?

I think not.

half nelson.

Sorry about the lack of Corona-themed movies of late but frankly I really couldn't be arsed.

Plus no fucker seemed to be reading them so if you can't be bothered why should I?

"Let's get shopping!"

Anyway was at a loose end t'other day so decided to rewatch this, you see I've always loved this movie from when I first read about it in House of Horror magazine way back in 1977 and was really jealous when as a boy my bezzie mate (who will remain nameless as he'll no doubt end up getting fan mail for being so cool) went to see this in America whilst on his holidays*.

He turned 50 recently so as a way to celebrate I present this review.






The Incredible Melting Man (1977).
Dir: William Sachs.
Cast: Alex Rebar, Burr DeBenning, Myron Healey, Barack Obama, Michael Alldredge, Ann Sweeny, Rainbeaux Smith, Don Walters, Bonnie Inch, Dorothy Love, Edwin Max, Jonathan Demme and the lovely Janus Blythe.

"Don't shoot! I'm Ted Nelson!"

Space: Not only the final frontier but it seems the final resting place for those movies that can only afford National Geographic style stock footage for their opening shots and in this case it's a blurry, scratched film of the sun hastily edited 'tween shots of three tinfoil-covered guys strapped into a portaloo pretending that they're orbiting Saturn.

Whilst peering out of the window and trying not to knock any of the broken egg timers cunningly disguised as scientific instruments off the MDF unit masquerading as a control console an eerie light envelopes the cockpit instantly killing two of the astronauts (to death) and seriously injuring the third.

Well it singes his porn mustache.

Back on Earth the survivor -  Colonel Steve West (Rebar from the classic Sex, Pain and Murder, Episode Two: Castration Elation and an episode of Murder, She Wrote) awakens from his slumber to find his face wrapped with toilet roll and his body covered in a snazzy pair of Bri-Nylon pajamas just like the ones your dad wears.

Even down to the stubborn brown stain on the arse and the crusty eggy bits on the crotch.

His physician, the suavely sexy Dr. Lou Loring (A young pre-Prez Barack Obama using the stage name Lisle Wilson) is at a loss to explain how West survived the journey back to Earth or why he's been given such nasty sleepwear but when it comes to the bandaged face he informs West that to cheer him up the hospital staff has styled and dyed his 'tache tho' it's best not to remove them just yet as the colour is still to set.

Sounds legit.

There's not a liberal America and a conservative America - there's the United States of America....and a melting man who lives there!"

After Loring leaves (he's probably off to fake a birth certificate), West leaps from his bed and excitedly tears off the dressing in order to admire his (now) funky facial fuzz.

Imagine his horror then when he gazes into the mirror to be confronted not by a cooly coiffured mustache but by the flesh on his face - and hands - melting away like a caramac bar left on a radiator.

Slightly riled by this turn of events West begins to smash up his room only stopping when a portly nurse (Inch from the directors classic Vietnam tale There Is No 13) arrives to take his temperature.

Having a thermometer shoved up his arse is the final straw for our spaced-out pal and West suddenly turns violent, chasing the nurse - in bouncy breasted slo-mo - down a corridor before chowing down on her ample thighs and escaping into the nearby woods.

"Shite in mah mooth!"

 Only being experienced in dealing with bunions and broken bones Loring calls on his scientist pal - and friend of West - Dr. Theodore "Ted" Nelson (Trash TeeVee stalwart DeBenning) for help.

Arriving at the scene in a snazzy tracksuit and armed with a handy Geiger counter, the pair soon come across (well she was fairly hot for a fat bird) the nurse's radiation wracked body and after much stroking of chins (as well as wiping their cocks on the remains of her uniform) the pair surmise that West must some how be melting due to the radioactive properties of Saturn and needs to consume human flesh to slow the process.

Which is a pretty good deduction from just looking at a chubby chicks gash.

As in the bite mark obviously.

Wanting to keep the operation low key (which is lucky seeing as the production doesn't seem to be able to afford a couple of lab coats let alone a troop of marines) Nelson contacts General Michael 'Scratch' Perry (Healey - best known as Arch Quinton in 'V'), an air force bigwig who was involved in the Saturn mission but now spends his time scoffing sandwiches at his desk.

With fuck all else to do other than slowly eat his way into oblivion Perry offers to help the search and flies out to meet Nelson.

"It's CCCCCHHHHHRRRIIISSSTTTMMMAAASSSS!!!"

Whilst we're waiting for our heroes to get their arses into gear West is busying himself causing all manner of trouble for the local populace, firstly beheading a local fisherman before turning his attentions to a group of buck-toothed pre-teens playing hide and seek.

Unfortunately the kids escape unharmed.

Realizing that the film is lacking some skin (obviously the fact that it's also lacking any good actors and a halfway decent plot isn't that important) we're suddenly introduced to the 'lovely' - if a wee bit undernourished wannabe fashion model Mavis (Ex-member of The Runaways and B movie babe Cheryl "Rainbeaux" Smith) and her sleazy photographer pal Clive (legendary porn producer/ director Walters) who is desperate to get Mavis to flash her boobs for his camera.

Anyone here aware of Smith's career wont be too surprised to find that this happens quite quickly but as she - feebly - attempts to fight of Clive's creepy advances our bony elbowed blonde trips over the fisherman's severed hand denying them (and us) any chance of some harshly lit loving.

We should be thankful for small mercies.

Steffi Graf, up the casino, Blackpool, 1985.....YESCH!

Armed with his handy Geiger counter - and a brass neck - whilst dressed in a fetching scoop-necked polyester jumper Nelson wanders the woods aimlessly pointing his high tech device at things in the hope of persuading himself that the paycheck is worth the effort but his intellectual musings are cut short when he finds West's ear stuck to a tree branch.

Meanwhile back at the other plot we're entertained by a 15 minute segment featuring FX god Rick Baker's fake fisherman head (I'm assuming it's fake) floating down a stream before falling down a waterfall and bursting like a melon whilst a crappy Bontempi score jauntily plays in the background.

With the film almost at the halfway point the director realizes that he has to get things moving so Perry finally arrives at the main plot, accompanying Nelson to the crime scene where the fisherman's body was found.

Hoping to avoid telling anyone about the mad, melty maniac stomping about the woods our dynamic duo desperately try to convince the peachy arsed Sheriff Blake Severn (Alldredge from everything you've ever seen including The Entity, Scarface and Iron Eagle. See how many others you can find.) that it was wolves what done it but he suspects that Nelson is lying.

Torn between telling the truth or continuing with his frankly shite lies Nelson heads home to berate his pregnant, straw haired wife Judy (M.A.S.H's Nurse Carrie Donovan herself Sweeny - no me neither) for not buying any cream crackers.

No really.

His hopes of a nice cheeseboard feast dashed Nelson's evening goes from bad to worse when Judy informs him that her whorish mother Helen (Love from Caged Heat and your Granddad's darkest dreams) and her 'boyfriend' Harold (Max who once guest starred on the radio drama Nightbeat with Frank Lovejoy fact fans) are coming over for dinner and the promise of a foursome.

Luckily on their way the pair are cruelly murdered by West.

Which may sound a wee bit harsh but anything that puts paid to their frankly arse destroying 'comedy' car antics is a blessing.

The Ronko Wankotron 2000 proved a hit with Jessica Tandy.

Off out looking for whores to murder Blake soon discovers the couples abandoned car and half-chewed bodies, quickly calling Nelson to come and identify them.

Poking about in Helen's innards Nelson quickly surmises that West is somehow getting stronger the more his body melts.

"Then he is surely an incredible melting man" Blake doesn't exclaim.

Back at Nelson's house, Judy has gone to bed leaving an - ever - peckish Perry to raid the fridge giving the director ample opportunity to share a horrendous amount of close-ups of the fat faced fucker greasily stuffing his face with chicken wings and pork sausages as congealed lumps of fat and gristle collect in the corners of his toilet-like mouth.

Beautiful.
His gluttonous gastronomic gobblings are cut short tho' when West turns up unexpectedly and brutally slays Perry before stealing a bag of frozen peas and disappearing into the night.
Realizing that (an incredible melting) man cannot live on frozen peas alone, West breaks into the nearby home of newlyweds Terry and June  (director Demme and owner of the world's peachiest arse and smoothest of smooth thighs Blythe from The Hills Have Eyes and Eaten Alive) in the hope of finding some potatoes and maybe a small portion of fish.

Or a little bit of chicken in a box.

"Put it in me!"

Unfortunately West's search for scran is disturbed by the couple returning home and our space-fairing freak responds in the only way he knows how - by bludgeoning Terry to death this a tube of Pringles before menacing poor June thru' a broken kitchen door.

June is made of sterner stuff than her hubbie tho' and viciously slices West's arm off with a kitchen knife before sliding sexily around he goo covered lino and phoning Blake for help.

Thank you Ms Blythe for bringing some much needed eroticism to the proceedings.

Following the ever stronger radioactive trail left by West the pair soon arrive at the local power plant to find West on the roof trying to build a makeshift hammock out of the electrical cables.

All that killing must be hard work.

Nelson and Blake soon realize that if West harnesses the plant's electrical power he will become invincible.

Will our heroes defeat the sticky space slasher?

And will the director cut back to Janus Blythe who by this point is (hopefully) taking a long, lingering shower to clean all that fake blood and goo from her smooth, lily white skin?

 

From William Sachs - Manuel in Fawlty Towers (probably) and the man who gave us Galaxina and Spooky House (but not alas the man who gave your mum the clap - that was your uncle George) comes a movie that takes all the best bits of  The Night of the Living Dead, First Man into Space and The Quatermass Xperiment (amongst others) and mixes them into a threadbare 50's throwback thriller of inane dialogue, poverty row production values, one note performances and a tone that veers wildly from exploitation shocker to TeeVee sitcom farce like a drunken man trying to find his way home after a particularly heavy drinking session.

And that's just how it makes the audience feel.  

Bizarrely enough Sachs original screenplay was written as a parody of a typical sci-fi horror shocker but producer Samuel W. Gelfman - allegedly - cut most of the comedic elements before adding more scenes of gore and gruesomeness (thanks to a young Rick Baker) during editing claiming that a 'straight horror film' would make more cash.

On viewing you have to ask that if this is the movie with the comedy completely removed then what the fuck did they deem to funny to keep?

I mean the whole endeavor comes across like some sub-Crackerjack version of Torchwood.

Which actually means exactly like a normal episode if you think about it. 

If only Saddam had thought to wave the white flag rather than snort it maybe ISIS wouldn't exist.

The scariest thing about it tho' was the fact that the film actually became a massive commercial hit - thanks mainly to Baker's aforementioned makeup effects tho' critics unanimously derided it for being utter shite.

To a modern cinema-going audience this may seem true but let's be honest here - given the choice I'd rather spend 90 minutes in the company of creepy Colonel Steve than with the fucking whiny wee shite in the Babadook.

The perfect Friday night film and screaming out for a midnight showing alongside Contamination.

Which may sound like damning with faint praise but heyho.

So any brave cinema's up for it?

After lockdown obviously.

Answers to the normal email address.














































*Tho' there's a chance he may have been lying - tho' not as much as Andrew Colley who told us all he'd seen Return of The Jedi in America and that during the film's climax Darth Vader gained robot wings and chased Luke around the still under construction Death Star interior whilst it was revealed that Boba Fett was Han Solo's evil twin brother.

flaming alf.

The Coronavirus cine capers continue.....

Well that was short and to the point.

Just like yer maw.

Actually this is an oldie but a bloody goodie that I'm surprised more folk don't rave about.

I'm less worried about her getting the virus and more worried that she'll get a chill in her tummy (or a bad reputation) wearing that top.

Undead (2003).
Dir: Michael and Peter Spierig.
Cast: Felicity Mason, Mungo McKay, Rob Jenkins, Lisa Cunningham, Dirk Hunter and Emma Randall.

"When I was a kid, we fuckin' respected
our parents, we didn't fuckin' eat 'em!"

Welcome to the sleep fishing town of Berkeley in Western Australia, to the local population it's home but to everyone else it's the arse end of dullsville, the only great thing about it being the road out.

Think Dudley but with better (any?) teeth.

One of these non-believers is the towns former Miss Catch of the Day pin-up Rene (the Tefal browed Mason, best known as the voice of Audrey the Activist in the 'hit' online series Team Trashe), struggling to keep up payments on her late parents farm and dreaming of a new life in the big city.

Things aren't going well for our soon to be heroine at the moment tho' seeing as she's stuck in a horrendous meeting with the beefy and balding Mr. Chip Loan at the local bank, who  sits sweatily eyeing up poor Rene as she begs for an extension on her payments and,  after exhausting her patented female mix of giving huge puppy dog eyes and wistful sighs she ends up storming out to her friend Johnny Deadsoon's car determined to leave her troubles behind.

And with that bit of backstory out of the way we can begin.

(Poppy) eyes son.

Driving along the main road and out of town Rene soon begins to notice the sky getting darker and darker (and more blatantly CGI-ed) as the sound of thunder rumbles in the distance.

But that's not the only bizarre weather-based thing occurring as suddenly storms of burning meteorites descend from the heavens disrupting the local cricket match, destroying shops, frying children and turning the locals into flesh starved undead things.

So far so good.

Coming across (insert 'not literally' joke here) a nasty pile-up in the middle of the road Johnny pulls over and gets out the car to investigate and it's not long before the poor sod has been nibbled to death by a shite moothed, blank eyed, shambling pre-teen zombie.

With really bad hair.

Some folk have all the luck.

Beating the child to death with a steering wheel lock Rene heads off towards a nearby (and very run-down) farmhouse quick style.

"Shite in mah undead, pre-teen mooth ya bastard!"

Far from being deserted tho' the farmhouse belongs to the local monosyllabic mentalist Marion (McKay, ball faced star of Malibu Shark Attack), owner of Marion's World of Weapons and winner of the fishy beard of the year award three years running.

Luckily for Rene, Marion recognises these bizarre events as a sign of alien invasion as it appears that years ago, whilst fishing for carp the poor sod was abducted by a group of extraterrestrials under similar circumstances and since then he's been training and preparing for their return.

There's no time for introductions tho' (or any more character development than is absolutely necessary) because no sooner has Marion pulled a gun on Rene whilst muttering something slight yet meaningful in a rather gruff manner that ever more cliche riddled survivors turn up.

Enter pregnant beauty queen Sallyanne (Cunningham from Daybreakers), her hick helicopter pilot Wayne (hat wearing Jenkins), foul mouthed, bad ass, big shorted copper Harrison (The New Adventures of Flipper's Hunter) and fragile flower rookie police officer (plus token cutsie red head) Molly (ex set decorator, stop motion goddess and all round art queen Randall).

"He did WHAT in his cup?"

If the fact that the sky wasn't full of flaming meteors and the town full of zombies wasn't enough to upset everyone then the sudden heavy rainfall is.

But this is no ordinary rain, no sir.

I mean it's computer generated for a start.

You see it soon becomes apparent that this downpour not only burns skin but picks up people and animals at random in a kinda squishy shower like tractor beam.

Could things get any worse?

Bardot are looking a wee bit rough.

Deciding the best course of action is to make a Vegemite sandwich (or whatever it is these Aussie types eat) the groups attempts at making lunch are foiled when a team of scruffy undead tramps burst into the house looking for fresh meat to chow down on.

With Harrison shouting "Fuck!" at every given opportunity whilst flashing his knobbly knees to all and sundry Marion (quietly) takes command and leads everyone into his cellar cum lead lined bunker to formulate an action plan.

Think The Apprentice only with stinky beards, over the knee socks and a distinct lack of tottie and you're halfway there but probably only a quarter as entertaining*.

With the majority of the group agreeing that staying put is probably the best option it's down to Sallyanne and her rather inconvenient (under the circumstances) pregnancy to get in the way.

You see she reckons that she's about to pop a sprog at any second which may hamper any long term ideas about hiding out till it's all over.

There's only one clean towel for a start and the nearest they have to clean water is the sweat that they can mop from between Molly's ample (and sexily freckled) cleavage.

After a quick think (and helped along by Harrison waving his weapon about) everyone decides to make a break for Marion's van and attempt to drive out of town.

Again.

Nigel Mansell farted....and it was an eggy one.

Upon arrival at the town border it's fair to say that the group are fairly surprised to find that a mile high metal barrier lined with razor sharp spikes has been built surrounding the whole of Berkeley.

Marion blames the aliens that allegedly abducted him whilst Harrison is quick to point the finger at the bin men.

Sallyanne just sits cradling her stomach gurning like a loon.

Typical.

As the acid rain continues to drench the town and members of the group begin to fall foul of the heavenly tractor beams it's left to Rene and Marion to discover a cure to the undead terror destroying Berkeley and uncover the secret behind the mysterious glowing monks hiding in the shadows....

As cheap as chips and as tasteful as a Dingo's dinner, the Spierig brothers second feature (before hitting the big time with the Ethan Hawke starrers Daybreakers and Predestination**) is a delightful mix of 1950's alien paranoia and 1980's pre-cert horror with an added dash of Evil Dead style black comedy lovingly wrapped in an old pair of Paul Hogan's pants.

Yes it's slight and indeed it's throwaway but if it's ninety minutes of no brainer, laugh now giggles you're after then you could do worse than watch this.

Plus it's a damn sight more entertaining than the prospect of another seaon of The Walking Dead.

Or even Waking The Dead.

Not sold?

Well tough, because I'm not going to give away too about the numerous golden moments in the movie by mentioning the scenes of exploding old ladies, groan inducing shopfronts with names like Elvis Parsley’s Grapeland, Felicity Mason in soaking undies, streets awash with gore and the best (if only) tramp bearded John Woo tribute I've ever seen on celluloid.

Go on, watch it now.

It wont change your life but it may make a little bit of wee squirt out at certain points.

And if you're honest, what more can you ask for from a cinematic experience during a global pandemic?


































































*Must admit I've not watched the show for years but if I'm honest I'd pay good money (at least £15) to see former Junior Apprentice Goddess Zoe Plummer oiled up in a vest cradling a machine gun lead a group of contestants thru' a heaving throng of the undead as Lord Sugar barks insults at them from the boardroom.

But perhaps that's just me.

Zombie zapping
Zoe Plummer: sorted.

**Before pissing any good will well and truly up the wall with the utterly pointless SAW sequel Jigsaw.

never ending story.

In order to break the monotony of the Coronavirus lockdown the Twin Things decided to  rewatch the frankly fantastic George Pal version of War of The Worlds* t'other day which they swiftly followed up with another viewing of the great mans take on The Time Machine which inadvertently re-awakened Twin 2's Rod Taylor crush.

"And this is all you could get from the shops?"

Hence we spent last night watching this.

World Without End (1956).
Dir: Edward Bernds.
Cast: Nelson Leigh, Christopher Dark, Rod Taylor, Hugh Marlowe, Everett Glass, Shirley Patterson, Lisa Montell, William Vedder, Nancy Gates, Booth Colman and Mickey Simpson.

Our women seem to have lagged behind in their evolution into reasonable creatures. They actually admire these reckless and brutal men.

It's March 1957 (probably a Tuesday) and top space science types Dr. Eldon Galbraithe (The Adventures of Sir Galahad star Leigh), bequiffed navigator Henry Jaffe (Dark who was once in The Time Tunnel), radio operator and all round sexyman Herbert Ellis (Taylor, our reason for watching) alongside team leader and professional action hero John Borden (The Day The Earth Stood Still and Earth Vs The Flying Saucers star Marlowe) are returning to Earth after a successful reconnaissance trip to Mars.

Bloody hell you couldn't move for spaceships parked around the red planet in the 50s could you?

What appears to be a routine flight full of fun and banter turns scary when the rocket suddenly accelerates to an incredible speed, rendering the crew unconscious and sending their ship hurtling - well wobbling - thru' space before crashing on a snow-covered mountain.

Coming to and deciding to make the best of the situation the gang go for a walk down the mountain and soon coming across some ancient gravestones leaving Galbraithe to surmise that the rocket was subjected to a wee bit of 'time dilation' (isn't that the way?) and that they're now stranded on a future Earth, the heightened radiation that the ship has registered outside being from a devastating atomic war that occurred at some point in the past.

Which seems legit.

This news is taken particularly hard by Jaffe tho', as he soon realizes that his wife and children must be dead.


Well either dead or they moved to Birmingham.

"Does my skin look buttery?"

Deciding that Jaffe needs something to take his mind of his families demise the rest of the team send him off to explore a nearby cave, hinting that it may be full of Leprechaun treasure and with that he merrily jogs along to take a look, unfortunately it's not full of treasure but is, in fact, chock full of giant rubber spiders intent on scoffing poor Jaffe.

Well I say chock full but I mean there are two of them.

Or maybe just one and it's edited to look like two.

Either way it looks utter shite, meaning there's more chance of Jaffe dying of embarrassment than getting bit.

Anyway before it can get too exciting Ellis fires his load(ed gun) into the beasts eyes and the group run away only to be almost immediately attacked by one eyed, furry nappy wearing mutant survivors of the war - or 'Mutates' as they call them.

It never rains.

"Hello we're from Cradley Heath!"

Seeking shelter in another (less cobwebby) cave our hunky bunch are surprised (there's a fair bit of that in this movie) when a gleaming, totally not incongruous, metal door slides open revealing the entrance to an underground city populated by the - non mutated - descendants of those who survived the atomic war.

Descendants who are now spending their days clad in shower caps, ballet tights and massive gold chains in an attempt to look all clever and utopian.

In charge of this motley crew is the thin legged Bob Timmek (Invasion Of The Body Snatcher's Glass who spends the whole movie looking fairly embarrassed at the tightness of his - well - tights as they not only reveal what side he dresses to but also what he had for lunch, poor sod), who is aided and abetted by the oh-so slightly fey James (Pearl Jam's Vedder - thankfully uncredited) and the harsh faced Tober Mories (father of Doctor Who stars Olivia and  Jenna as well as TV Planet of The Apes monkey, Coleman) who, feeling threatened by the sheer amount of manliness on show decides to plot against our time-traveling team.

Well that and the fact that his betrothed, Timmek's daughter, the mini-skirted minx Garnet (cheeky chinned TV stalwart Gates) has the hots for Borden.

John that is not Stan.

Oh hang on that's Boardman isn't it?

Sorry. 

Beware this room is not full of candy.

 

You see, it seems that life underground has caused the men to become less virile and manly whilst in contrast, the women have all de-evolved to look like 50s starlets complete with incredibly pointed bras and tiny shiny skirts and they appear to be constantly gagging for it with a couple of them - the council estate Rita Hayworth Elain (Patterson) and serving girl Deena (Montell, be still my beating heart), both fighting for the attentions of Ellis who at this point is topless for some reason.

Anyway, our heroes decide that the only way humanity will survive (apart from them having sex with all the ladies which may be a wee bit tiring - especially for Galbraithe) is if everyone heads to the surface, kills the 'mutates' and soak up some vitamin C so to this end they attempt to persuade the underground community to arm themselves and help them to reclaim the surface.

But alas they can't be arsed.

Tunnel or funnel?

From that point in the film descends into chatsville - via discussion town - intercut with scenes of Garnet gazing lustfully at Borden whilst begging him to make love to her in the rugged style of the men in her old romance novels.

Which is nice.

"Hey honey....you fancy a wee bit o' mooth shite-in?"

Tired of all this testosterone fueled tomfoolery, Mories hatches a plan to discredit the time travelers by stealing their weapons from James' bedroom and planting them in their quarters.

How fiendish.

Unfortunately as he's grabbing the guns James appears from the bathroom and has no sooner pulled up his tights as Mories beats him to death.

Ouch.

He then sneaks into our heroes room and hides the guns in Borden's sock drawer.

Framing the foursome for the foul murder of poor James, Timmek has no choice but to have them expelled but luckily - for them - Deena was in their room having a wee fiddle whilst sniffing Ellis' underwear and swa the whole thing.

Much shoving and pushing ensues as Mories flees to the surface only to be bummed to death by mutants.

Helmet.

With Mories out of the picture, Timmek decides to throw away his pacifist ideals and help our heroes manufacture a bazooka with which to kill the mutates but Deena - having been rescued from the outside as a child - informs everyone that the mutates are actually quite small in number and that they used (non-mutated) slaves to do all the heavy work for them.

With this knowledge Borden offers to fight their chief, the hairy back and arsed Naga (yellow skinned cartoon star Simpson) in single combat for leadership of the group and the lives of the slaves.

Obviously they blow some shit up first just to show they mean business.

Will Borden beat Naga or will evil triumph over good old fashioned American strength?

Will our heroes return to the past or choose to build a new world surrounded by dozens of adoring ladies?

Go on, guess.

Lisa Montell: Foil wrapped for freshness.

With a plot so good it was later ripped off for The Mole People (which like this owes a huge debt to The Time Machine), World Without End was originally envisaged as a cheap way to make some extra cash for filmmakers Allied Artists by reusing footage, sets and costumes from their earlier movie Flight to Mars and because of this World Without End balances uncomfortably 'tween being a silver age SciFi classic and cheap seat-filler - for every highbrow question on humanities quest for survival and pacifism vs aggression there's a rubber arachnid or boss-eyed beast in a furry nappy waiting around the corner.


Luckily it's saved from obscurity - and dragged from the gutter by not only its fantastic cast - especially Hugh Marlowe, Lisa Montell and Rod Taylor - but also by the frankly bizarre mix of folk who worked behind the scenes, including the legendary Sam Peckinpah (who worked as its dialgoue director) and strangest of all, probably the worlds most famous/greatest pin-up artist Alberto Vargas as concept/costume artist.

Which explains a lot if I'm honest.

Especially that tingly feeling I got whenever any of the space ladies turn up onscreen.

Vargas: Sauce pot.

And let's not forget director Edward Bernds who, although not the greatest director who ever lived makes sure the film is never dull - which frankly is a godsend after watching some of it's contemporaries.

Yes I'm looking at you The Mole People.

Again.

With a career that spans everything from directing The Three Stooges to writing the Elvis movie masterpiece Tickle Me via The Queen of Outer Space and nearly (accidentally) winning an Oscar Bernds makes sure that the film never gets too talky and throws enough action, sexy ladies and silly hats at the screen to make it an enjoyable if fairly forgettable filmic experience.

Go on, you know you want to.

If only for Lisa Montel's midriff. 


































*Much as they love it they've both pointed out how far fetched the idea of a technically advance civilization being brought down by a virus is.....it's just silly.