hairy nips and side sheds.

Just been chatting online about classic werewolf movies.

Obviously An American Werewolf In London, The Howling and The Beast Must Die! came up meaning that all this talk about hairy scares made me want to go back and revisit one of my personal faves.

So ladies and gentlemen let me present probably THE best werewolf movie ever made featuring not only the wonderful Dagmar Lassander but a star turn from that blonde woman who you might remember from bit parts in Truck Turner and Blood Orgy of The She Devils.



La Lupa Mannara (AKA Daughter of a Werewolf, Naked Werewolf Woman, She-Wolf , Werewolf Woman, 1976).
Dir: Rino Di Silvestro.
Cast: Annik Borel, Howard Ross, Dagmar Lassander, Tino Carraro and lots of other folk that I can't be arsed listing, except for the amusingly monikered Felicita Fanny for obvious reasons.

The place: a cow-pat covered field somewhere in Europe.

The time: Ye olden days - probably the early 70s by the state of the bush on show.

And I don't just mean the overgrow fauna circling the flaming pentagram that's been hastily drawn on the damp, muddy grass.

Obviously if you're a regular reader of this fine blog you'll know I'm making a childish reference to lady gardens.

In particular the one belonging to the top-lining (and topless) Annik Borel, who's currently dancing about in the all together and jiggling her lady parts like her life (or at very least her next mortgage payment) is counting on it.

But she is not alone.

Watching from the woods is a bunch of evermore nervous tinker types armed with flaming torches and pitchforks gazing in a mix of awe, terror and mild apathy as our buxom babe slowly transforms from a totally naked blonde 70s sexbomb into a blonde 70s sexbomb who appears to be wearing bits of carpet stuck to her body.

And black olives on her nipples.

Obviously.

The group surge forward, their weapons held tightly as Borel attempts to growl menacingly at the moon whilst dribbling thru' a set of comedy pound shop dentures.

In case you hadn't guessed this is indeed the naked werewolf woman of the title.

And unfortunately the only time we get to see her in all her hirsute glory, which by the state of the make-up isn't such a bad thing if I'm honest.

Obviously not wanting us to get too excited at the thought of a hairy woman eating a group of tramps (or spend any more money than he can get away with)  we abruptly jump forward 200 years (as in the movie does, it's not like some bizarre interactive Back To The Future style performance piece) to find a very sweaty (but thankfully clothed) Borel (as the very rich but oh so slightly mad Daniela Neseri) suddenly jump up in bed with a squeak.

You see, the poor girl suffers from a recurring nightmare caused by the fact that she believes she's the reincarnation of her ancestor who was burned at the stake for being a werewolf.

Which sounds a pretty legit if not really badly constructed bit of background story.

Not all of her family agree tho' especially her dad Count Tony Neseri (Carraro from Argento's The Cat o' Nine Tails) and sister Elena (Raven-haired Giallo goddess Lassander, obviously she had a new swimming pool to pay for) who think that the whole mentalist thing could be caused by her memories of being diddled by a dustbin man as a child.

Being a wee bit stubborn Daniela refuses their offers of help preferring to 'self-medicate' her violent desires by hiding in a wardrobe and fiddling with herself whilst watching her sister and hubbie having 'the sex'.

Tho' lets be honest, do you really need a reason (medical or other) to want to watch Dagmar Lassander getting naked?

"Laugh nowwwwwooooooooohhhhhh!"

Being the cuddly and caring types her family are all very supportive, occasionally nodding in a concerned manner whilst muttering that everything will be OK whilst scrubbing the stains off the woodchip wallpaper.

And to be honest everything's actually fine, until that is Daniela decides to lure her brother-in-law into the woods, start humping his leg then tear his throat out before tossing him off a cliff.

Oops.

With the Jeremy Kyle show cancelled due to the death of a guest, the family decide that it'd probably be for the best if they had Daniela committed to the local hospital, where seeing as she spends her days stripped naked and strapped to a bed, I'm assuming isn't BUPA affiliated.

It's not all nude bondage and bed-baths tho' as Daniela often passes the time shouting "whore" at her still mourning sister and hiding scissors under her pillow in case the mad lesbian patient from two doors up tries to sneak into her room for cuddles.



Sounds a brilliant place for a break if I'm honest.

I don't know what that is in her mooth but it's definitely not shite.

Daniela obviously doesn't think so because after a week she decides that she's cured and proves this by plotting a totally non-mental escape plan that involves hiding in a doctor's car, waiting for him to leave the hospital then smashing his face repeatedly against the steering wheel before driving off into the countryside to start a new life.



Which is nice.


Unless you're that poor doctors wife and kids obviously.

It's at this point that the movie bizarrely turns into a sleazy version of the old Michael Landon TeeVee show Highway To Heaven, only this time featuring a mad woman coming across (quite literally in some cases) the damaged dregs of society and killing them in a rage of sweat, screams and howls rather than that guy from Little House On The Prairie helping club-footed kids and single mums with shingles.

Tho' I can't imagine that it would have run for 12 seasons had it followed Rino Di Silvestro's storyline can you?

But our writer/director has another twist for us because just when you think the whole film has descended into poorly made - albeit fairly unique - (moderately) hairy woman kills tramps flick our heroine bumps into a hunky stunt-man (Howard Ross AKA Renato Rossini) named Luca and everything changes again.

Except her underwear obviously which by this point I could actually smell thru' the screen.

God may want you for a sunbeam but I just want to use your mouth as a toilet.

Picking up a hitch-hiking Daniela in his patented stunt-mobile, lovely Luca wins her over with his sensitivity, charm and respect for women, hairy or not.

Oh and with his ability to fall off tall burning buildings whilst dressed as a chicken obviously.

Prepare for a romance montage like no other as we see our beautiful couple frolicking on the beach, running thru' parks and gazing into each others eyes intercut with scenes of our stuntman hero crashing thru' windows, getting bottles broken on his head and the like before setting up home together on the actual movie set.

Which I'm sure is against union rules.


Anyone?

Somewhere to park your bike (and reuse old captions obviously).

Our lovers soon realize tho'  that a fake western town isn't the best place to raise a family so Luca pops down on one knee and asks Daniela if she would mind if he took her up the village.

To live that is.

She smiles (which frankly is much more terrifying without her false choppers in) and cries "Yes!" before falling into Luca's massively muscled arms for another wee bout of the love-making.

You see it appears that it only takes the love of a rugged, sensitive stunt-man to cure any woman of her latent lycanthropy.


Which kind of explains where I've been going wrong the last few years.

Doggy style.

At long last it looks like things could finally work out quite nicely for Daniela but you forget that this is a cheaply made Italian exploitation movie (albeit one with delusions of high art) so it wont come as too much of a surprise when I tell you that one day, whilst Luca is out buying a pint of milk and various Veet hair removal products from Superdrug a gang of very bad lads turn up at the studios looking for cheap booze and evil sex.

Will the Luca return in time or will Daniela - after getting roughly bummed by the bad men - become a werewolf and hunt down her three attackers like a (hairier) Charles Bronson?

Or will true love prevail?

Dagmar Lassander: Ask your granddad.

Thank you Rino Di Silvestro (AKA Axel Berger, Cesar Todd, R.D. Silver and your 'Uncle' Pete) for not only giving us such classic calls for tolerance and love as Deported Women of the SS Special Section, Women in Cell Block 7 and The Erotic Dreams of Cleopatra but for following your dream and bringing this unique (yet oh so tedious) tale of love, sex, mental illness and furry nipples to the big screen.

A film that even after more than 30 years since my first viewing still holds a place in my heart as well as teaching me a valuable lesson in life.

When I was 12 years old I naively swapped a copy of the Video Network big box Betamax edition of Harry Novack's Axe for a dodgy VHS copy of La Lupa Mannara after being told that not only was it utterly terrifying but that it featured some top nude lady werewolf action as well as a scene where two girls stroked each others hair in a barn.

And I fell for it, hurriedly handing over Axe and excitedly running home, stopping only to buy crisps and Vimto ready for an evening of sheer terror.

And maybe, just maybe a glimpse of lady front bum, something at that point I'd only heard whispered about.

My friend Jamie had yet to obtain a copy of The Mad Foxes so the idea of men and women being different down below was pure hearsay.

But how was I managed to be duped so badly I hear you cry.

Well it's all down to the title the movie was released under in the UK.

You see over here it was called Naked Werewolf Woman.

Says it all really.

Bizarrely enough tho' the title change actually upset Di Silvestro more than the movies scathing (and in most cases hostile) reviews ever did seeing as he favoured the title The Lycanthrope, feeling that this was more in keeping with the movies serious arthouse aspirations.

No. really.

So imagine my disappointment, dear reader when what I ended up with wasn't actually the greatest, sexiest and hairiest movie ever made but a naked werewolf flick that singularly failed to deliver much in the way of either nakedness or werewolfism.

Ok I'll admit that it has an abundance of everything else you can think of; discussions on reincarnation, pseudo-scientific psycho-bollocks regarding lycanthropy as a side effect of sexual molestation, horny 70s Italian guys, revenge, tragedy and of course a stuntman years before Colt Seavers made it cool.

But that wasn't the point.

I don't think my 12 year old self ever recovered.



Come to think of it I'm still quite upset now.

I hope you're happy Rino.


Bastard.

horrorday on the buses

With the girls off on holiday this week it's left to me and the boy child to amuse ourselves so seeing as they've gone by coach I thought I'd show him what they can expect by re-watching this beauty.

Yup it's the frankly fangtastic (sorry couldn't resist) La Orgia Nocturna de los Vampiros.

As an aside did you know that for years I'd had to put up with watching a horribly chewed VHS copy of the movie seeing as no-one could be arsed giving it a proper DVD release.

Until about two years ago when whilst out shopping for pants  I found this little beauty lurking on a shelf just behind a copy of Night Train Murders.

And for only 3 quid too.

Bargain.

Trackings dodgy mate!

Well it would have been had, upon watching, it'd not become obvious that Fusion Media Sales had in fact broken into my house and just transferred my copy onto disc.

Via an old sock.

It's even got chews on it.

It's still bloody brilliant tho'.

Even the academic types think so seeing as someone actually delivered a paper on it at a conference a few years back.

I know.

I was there.

And I'd traveled by coach too.

Spooky.

La Orgia Nocturna de los Vampiros (AKA The Vampires Night Orgy. 1973) 
Dir: Leòn Klimovsky.
Cast: Jack Taylor, Dianik Zurakowska, Charo Soriano, Helga Liné, José Guardiola, Manuel de Blas, David Aller, Indio González, Luis Ciges, Antonio Páramo, María Vidal, Sandalio Hernández, Fernando Bilbao, Alfonso de la Vega, Rafael Albaicín, Reg Varney, Fernando E. Romero and Sarita Gil.

”The Countess says you can continue your work, with one arm!”

It's a sunny day in seventies Spain, Stan Butler anxious to get away from Blakey's constant complaining has decided to get a summer job driving a motley band of agency employees to their new jobs at a huge country estate and hopefully pull some dolly birds along the way.

Unfortunately whilst still 110 km from their destination, Stan suffers a massive heart attack and without his buck toothed pal Jack to perform a complicated heart massage procedure dies.

"Ere Jack...I can't feel my fingers!"

Luckily the passengers manage to stop the bus before anyone else is killed, regaining their composure and calling a meeting over what action to take.

Ferret-like gardener Terry Godo (former governor of Santander, Ciges) volunteers to take little Violet Smallgirl (Gil, later to grace our screens in the fantastic Esposa y amante) off the bus (as opposed to up the casino) whilst the rest of the passengers hurriedly carry poor Stan to the back seats before draping a dirty blanket over him.

Oh the indignity of it all.

Whilst all this stiff shuffling is going down Violet heads off to explore the local rocks where she bumps into a bowl haired, snub nosed little boy named Jeremy (star of Profesor Eróticus and director of Dawn of The Dead Romero) who invites her to play with him in the nearby quarry.

Until he gets bored and vanishes into thin air that is.

Some scary titles yesterday.

After much discussion and flailing of arms the passengers decide to head to the nearby village of Tolnio in order to find food and more importantly dispose of Stan seeing as the Brylcreem from his quiff is now dripping down the seats and staining the floors.

On arrival tho' our reluctant travelers realize that the entire place is empty, save for internationally renowned brush salesman Luis (Taylor from Polanski's The Ninth Gate), who instantly takes a liking to the harsh faced yet pleasantly breasted Alma (Scrabble scoring Zurakowska, star of such quality fare as Dracula, the Terror of the Living Dead....yes I know it's bizarre but these folk did indeed go on to have careers).

Helping themselves to the local hotels supply of crisps and booze it's not long before everyone is passed out, either draped across chairs in the bar or sprawled across the beds in one of the rooms.

Brits abroad eh?

Although to be honest they're not Brits they're Spanish.

And in Spain.

I didn't really think that thru' did I?

Let's just forget about it and move on.

Thanks.

Anyway back to the action where lecherous Luis has discovered that not only his is room right next to Alma's but there's a spy hole in the wall giving him (and us) ample opportunity to ogle her frighteningly conical breasts.

Ding dong.

Not everyone of the bus is a sex pest tho', there are a couple of honest-to-goodness alcoholics too, including the pie-eyed plumbers mate Ernesto (former Looney Tunes star Gonzálezis) who is too preoccupied with finding more booze to think about sleeping (or shagging) and wanders off into the village in the hope of finding an off-licence or 24 hour garage.

Imagine his surprise then when instead he finds every resident of the village having a party in the local graveyard.

And if that wasn't enough to tingle your spine imagine his reaction when he discovers that they're all vampires.

Now how's he gonna explain that to my nan?

"Hello there hen....fancy a wee bit o' mooth shite-in?"

Next morning and our heroes are woken by the shock haired local mayor, Boris Van Johnson (Guardiola), who helpfully explains the village's earlier emptiness was due to them all attending the town librarians funeral but not to worry because they're all welcome for as long as they wish to stay and that their bills will all be paid for by the Countess (the utterly gorgeous Liné from the classic Las garras de Lorelei) who lives in a house, a very big house overlooking Tolnio.

No, nothing sinister here at all then.

But for the mayor there are more important things to worry about, like what to feed everyone with seeing as the whole village appears to be devoid of shops.

"Can we fix it? No it's fucked!"

Turns out that he actually has a plan for such an occurrence (can you imagine the town meeting? "First order of the day, what to do if a bus  load of non vampire tourists turn up unannounced")  and soon has the town giant (Drácula contra Frankenstein star and uncle of Frodo, Bilbao) chopping off various bits of townsfolk to serve to the travelers.

Which is kinda sweet if you think about it.

But let's not forget that this is a horror movie not some feel good community caper so to add an air of uncomfortable menace to the proceedings (that doesn't involve Bri-Nylon slacks) who should reappear unannounced - and without having a wash the stinking bastard - why only Ernesto, all grey-faced, poo stained and scabby necked.

Exactly like your dad after his works Christmas party.

And his excuse for staying out all night?

Well according to it he's been busy burying Stan, tho' his pal Marcos Tandy (Paranormal Xperience 3D's de Blas) jokingly reckons from the size of his stomach he's probably eaten him.

If only he knew eh?

Invited to dine with the Countess our merry band enjoy a polite evening of stilted chat, sloppy dubbing and vaguely human shaped meat until the clock chimes midnight when she bids them farewell.

All that is except wannabe actor and stud for hire Cesar (Aller from Krakatoa: East of Java, the film not the place ) who after shoddily reciting a wee bit of Shakespeare gets to shake his own spear in the Countess' bed.

By that I mean they indulged in the sex.

Rather than a post-coital cuddle and a fag tho' the Countess leaps on the poor fella, biting his neck before tossing him out of the window to the awaiting mass of hungry villagers below.

Usually when that's happened to me I just get given a false telephone number.

"Is it in yet?"

As day makes way to night, more and more of the travelers succumb to the villagers vile curse and with Luis no longer content to just crack one off whilst spying on Alma undressing, our peephole pal must find a means of escape for him and his squeeze to be...

Will they fix the car and escape?

Will the hotel ever replenish it's stock of pork scratchings?

Will Luis get his end away or be cursed to a life of furtive masturbation at bus stops?

And what is the secret ingredient of Boris' ‘special drink’?

Well I'm not telling.

Whoever designed this cover, I hope your parents are proud.

From the late, great Leon Klimovsky, the man behind the Paul Naschy starrers The Werewolf Vs. Vampire Woman and Dr. Jekyll Vs. The Werewolf comes this frankly bonkers tale of fangs, fiends and migrant workers that plays out like Carry On Abroad as envisaged by Jean Rollin.

There may not be any actual night orgies and only one true vampire but when a movie features so many close-ups of slobbering gypsy mouths, crooked European teeth and unkempt seventies bush as this you really can't complain.

Well obviously you could but I for one would ignore you.

And so what if the plots been done to death a thousand times before by the likes of 2000 Maniacs and The Grapes Of Death, it's rarely done with so much flair and grace by a cast that scarily decides to play the whole thing totally straight.

And I for one are grateful.

Plus it features Helga Liné in a set of comedy pound shop vampire teeth and a chiffon nightie, take from that what you will.

Hook, Liné and tinker.

A masterpiece of holiday horror from start to finish, like Withnail And I stumbling drunkenly into the plot of I Am Legend, La Orgia Nocturna de los Vampiros should be on the top of every bodies top ten Spanish Vampire films set in towns and featuring trapped bus passengers lists.


Well it is in mine.

For a film that cost tuppence to make  the locations are surprisingly creepy, the luscious ladies are perfect Euro-vamps personified and the script is just the right side of dream-like, never wandering into the 'dubbed into incomprehensibility' badlands that many lo-fi Euroshockers end up in.

Glorious.

Unlike the DVD transfer.

bits n bobs.

Ended up watching this as part of our Friday Night FaceBook along (tho' we watched it on a Sunday for added shits and giggles) and had actually forgotten how utterly fantastic/shite it is.

Well that was worth typing.

Pieces (AKA Mil Gritos Tiene La Noche, 1982).
Dir: Juan Piquer 'Simon'.
Cast: Christopher George, Linda Day George, Frank Braña, Paul L. Smith, Edmund Purdom, Ian Sera, Jack Taylor, Isabelle Luque, Gérard Tichy, Hilda Fuchs, May Heatherly, Alejandro Hernández, Roxana Nieto, Cristina Cottrelli, Leticia Marfil, Silvia Gambino, Carmen Aguado and Paco Alvez.

Now look, professor, I don’t want to wait for the coroner’s opinion, so can you give me yours? Could this killing have been done with a chainsaw like that one over there?

Our story opens in the year 1942 in a house somewhere in sunny Boston where the 10-year-old tank top sporting Timmy (Hernández, who scarily enough actually went on to have some sort of career outside homemade gay porn) is busying himself with a jigsaw puzzle of a nude lady.

A nude lady with a very noticeable 1970s style bush and Farrah-like flicked haircut.

Who knew that Bostonians were such trendsetters?

But obviously this childish fun can't last and when his mum (Heatherly, best know for playing a nurse in Cannibal Apocalypse) walks in and catches him in the act our poor pre-teen chum has no alternative but to bludgeon her (to death) with a handy axe before sawing up her body with a handy hacksaw of the kind we all kept in our bedroom as boys.

Just me then?

Worried when her sister doesn't meet up for bingo night, Timmy's aunt arrives at the house with the police (bizarrely it seems portrayed by the Super Mario Brothers) in tow to discover Timmy cowering in a cupboard and his mums remains scattered and smeared around the room.

Not wanting to get in trouble Timmy blurts out that a "bad boy done it and ran away!" before crying into his aunts dress.

Bless.

Surprisingly for a horror movie, the police believe him and pack the boy off  to live with his aunt whilst arresting the first black guy/Hispanic/illegal for the crime.

The end.

Put it in me!

Not really - which is a pity - instead we jump forward forty years to find a black-clad figure furtively opening an old crisp box containing not only Timmy's mum's blood stain dress (alongside a handy photograph of her wearing it) but also the unfinished (still? really? after 40 years? I mean it's not like it's one of those 2000 piece jobs with a picture of baked beans on it) jigsaw puzzle.

There's little chance to ponder the meaning of such things tho' as we're soon away across town as the camera perversely focuses on Roxana Nieto's - albeit - peachy arse and smooth milky thighs as she lies - oh so naturally - on the grass outside the university busily studying for her quantum mechanics cum brain surgery exam.

Somewhere to park your bike.

Being a loosely plotted exploitation piece more interested in blood and boobs than anything remotely resembling a plot she's swiftly decapitated with a chainsaw by an shadowy figure clad in a large hat and welding goggles who escapes into the bushes with her head just as the hunky Lt. Brick Bracken (George from City of The Living Dead and your mum's dreams) and his partner Sgt. Randy Holden (Braña from The Story of O 2 - as in the sequel to The Story of O not a documentary about the phone company) arrive to investigate a complaint from an old lady about the noise.

And again, just because.

Finding no sign of any witnesses or any clues as to why someone would want to steal a teenagers head the pair head along to see the college's Dean, Axel Foley (Purdom who appeared to be in every low budget movie made between about 1950 and 1989) to see if he has any clue as to why the girl was targeted.

Remembering that she had a fairly pert arse he sends them off to chat with the college's anatomy lecturer, former pop star - and part-time student shagger - the sinister Professor Arthur Brown (genre stalwart Taylor), who upon denying any knowledge - carnal or otherwise - of the girl tries to make it up to them by giving them a guided tour of the campus and a chance to meet the students who will become the various victims of the killer as the story progresses.

Which I must admit is quite useful.

But unbeknown to our cool cop heroes, as all this chat is going down the college groundskeeper, Willie (Smith, from Popeye and Dune) is watching with a mad glint in his eye as he busies himself trimming some bush.

With a chainsaw.

A chainsaw that looks awfully similar to the killer's.

Hmmm.

Sorry - I have my woman's period.

But we can't be spending too much time with sinister chainsaw wielding weirdos as we have to get back to those pesky sex obsessed students, especially the boss-eyed 'Danny' Kendall James (actor and producer Sera, best known for Extra Terrestrial Visitors and Marine Issue - no me neither) who has just received a note from the blonde bombshell - OK bombsite - Jenny (Former Ms Spain 1981 Cottrelli) asking him to meet her in the swimming pool for some of 'the sex'.

Unfortunately the killer comes across the note and arrives first, sticking something far sharper - and bigger - into Jenny before chainsawing her into tiny pieces and stealing her torso.

But not the film Torso which is unfortunate as they may have watched it and learned at least how to light stuff properly if nothing else.

And if that wasn't enough poor Willie, who just happens to be passing by, and - after a really shit slow fight that wouldn't even have passed muster in Blake's 7 - is arrested.

But the real victim in all this is poor Kendall who is fairly upset and not getting laid, so Lt. Brack - being a nice guy - sends him off to see Dr. Kat Jennings (Tichy, look him up yourself if you're that bothered cos I'm not) to talk about stuff and hopefully get an idea of who is responsible for all those bad murders and maybe, just maybe do a wee bit of investigating for them himself.

Which seems a wee bit of an odd way to investigate a crime but what do I know.

To help him in his investigation Kendall is teamed up with undercover cop extraordinaire plus former tennis player Mary Riggs (George, wife of the other George and mother of Boy George) who will be posing as a tennis instructor at the college with Kendall working as her ball boy.

Which is quite lucky as that night she's attacked by a tiny Chinese man as she walks home and it's Kendall who comes to her rescue.

As opposed to over her arse obviously.

Fear not tho' as it wasn't the killer but just the local Kung Fu instructor who is suffering from hallucinations after eating a dodgy chop suey.

No, really.

That's not the only trouble brewing because wouldn't you know it, an evil faced reporter, Sylvia Costa (Luque) has also arrived on campus and is determined to solve the case herself even if it puts everyone else in danger.

"IT'S CCCCHHHHHRRRRIIISSSSTTTMMMAAASSS!"

Luckily for us but not for the females on campus she's really shite at her job so the killer gets ample opportunity to carry on his murder spree, taking out a disco dancing dollybird before stabbing Sylvia to death on a handy (or should that be wobbly?) waterbed that they keep in the basement.

On a roll now (and knowing the film is nearing its climax) the killer strikes again, this time butchering Mary's tennis partner before stealing her legs much to the chagrin of Mary and Kendall who are spending way too much time gazing uncomfortably at each other rather than, ooh I don't know, trying to catch a murderer maybe.

Returning to the police station for tea and biscuits the pair are angry to discover that groundskeeper Willie has been let free mainly due to the fact that he's Innocent so, in order to have something to do, decide to start investigating other faculty staff members after Kendall realises that the killer commits his crimes during break periods and when no-one is looking.

Imagine a particularly shite episode of Columbo then lobotomize it and you'll be halfway to seeing how basic this whodunnit plot is.

Seriously I feel like I'm losing brain functions just writing it all down.

Fair enough.

And wouldn't you know it but after spending literally, oooh minutes,  searching thru' the staff files they discover that the Dean's name isn't really Axel Foley but Timmy Foley, just like the boy who chopped up his mum at the movies beginning.

It couldn't be could it?

There's only one way to find out.

Yup Mary decides to go alone to his apartment that very night to check it/him out.

Without telling anyone obviously.

Will she arrest the Dean and bring him to justice or will she get slapped then drugged whilst he attempts to steal her feet to completed his dead flesh sex doll cum mother replacement?

Will Bracken, Holden, and Kendall arrive in time to save her because as we all know girls are rubbish at crime fighting.

And after everything is all wrapped up will the jigsaw corpse inexplicably come to live and attempt to steal Kendall's testicles?

From Spain's very own (lo-fi) Orson Welles comes quite possibly the most inane, insane and downright shite slasher ever committed to celluloid.

Nonsensical, in every way the film lurches from one ever more unrelated and bizarre set piece to another with no care for logic, plotting or good taste.

 which bizarrely enough is probably the reason why it's so bloody brilliant.

It's almost as if director Juan Piquer Simon - who in case you didn't know also gave us the cheese-string superhero epic Supersonic Man, the Peter Cushing and Terence Stamp travesty Mystery on Monster Island, the ET bothering Extra-Terrestrial Visitors* as well as the oh so slightly homo-erotic Slugs among others -  had a bet going with the producers where they put random characters and situations into a hat and each day he'd pick one and have to put it in the movie for fear of not getting paid.

Or at very least getting the bumps behind the catering truck.

If there was a catering truck that is but I wouldn't be surprised if everyone had to bring their own sandwiches.**

To be honest that's the only reason I can think of as to why so much of it makes absolutely no sense. 

For example, in the establishing shot of the campus, there's a tiny-shorted girl riding a skateboard badly, wobbling about as she rolls down the street to a feel good score. 

Meanwhile further down the road a couple of guys are slowly carrying a huge sheet of glass that the girl crashes into (in glorious slow motion) screaming as she does.

And that's it, we never see or hear about her ever again because hey we've got Roxana Nieto's peachy arse to perv over.

Which if I'm honest is a much better prospect than having to listen to Love Ist OK!!, the 'sexy' song and dance she performed on the Spanish TV equivalent of Summertime Special.***

Yer maw.

And don't get me started on the surprise cameo appearance by stunt man, convicted fraudster and Bruce Lee alike Bruce Le.

Yup the 'star' of Challenge of the Tiger, Bruce, King of Kung Fu, Infra-Man and Return of Bruce appears for no other reason than the film’s producer - exploitation king and low rent Roger Corman - Dick Randall decided that with Kung Fu being quite popular that he should be in it.

Utter genius from start to finish.

































*The bedroom belonging to Tommy (the wee pube-haired boy who befriends the alien) in this movie is actually the very same bedroom set previously used in Pieces.

But cleaned up a fair bit obviously.




**And I bet Edmund Purdom's were egg and cress.




***Oh you actually want to see it?

You're welcome.

fog on the rhine.

Everyone seems to be up in arms (whatever that actually means) this week re: the casting of Halle Bailey in the live action version of The Little Mermaid due to her not being half fish or something so anyway in an attempt to entice new (any) readers into my net of filth I thought I'd revisit probably THE best mermaid based blockbuster ever.

And not just because it features the sublime Helga Liné.

Not you.

Las garras de Lorelei (AKA L'abbraccio mortale di Lorele, The Loreley's Grasp, The Night the Screaming Stopped. 1974).
Dir: Amando de Ossorio
Cast: Tony Kendall, Helga Liné, Silvia Tortosa, Ángel Menéndez, Josefina Jartin, Loreta Tovar, José Thelman, Luis Induni, Betsabé Ruiz and Francisco Nieto.

“Send her back into the legendary night from which she has come.”

Welcome to the small town of Cleftplate nestling on the banks of the river Rhine, a town where nylon action slacks and porn mustaches rule supreme and where a green-gilled beast is doing it's best to eat thru' the entire neighbourhood in it's search for fresh hearts.

Beats Emmerdale any day.

But not The Archers obviously.

Every night dozens of angry, polyester-clad villagers gather at the local pub to debate who or what is terrorizing the town.

Luckily there's an expert in their midst, the local doctor, one Terry Von Lander (Der Todesrächer von Soho star Menéndez) and according to him the town is being stalked by a mythical beast.

Sounds plausible.

The Cleftplate men's club annual game of spin the bottle was always popular with the Colonel.

It transpires (I love that word it's second only to ottoman) that many years ago a beautiful lady, named Lorelei who spurned by her lover after he tricked her into a bout of the bum sex, tossed herself off the cliffs and into the murky waters of the Rhine.

As you would.

Well ever since then it is said that she returns every number of years (he's not that specific) in order to feast on human flesh for some convoluted reason.

I must have missed that bit.

Anyway fearing for the safety of the pupils at the local all girls boarding school, the sternly saucy headmistress Elke Ackerman (top tottie Tortosa from Horror Express) hires local he-man and open shirted sex god Sigurd (Italy's very own John Leslie, Kendall, most famous for his role as PI Jo Louis Walker in the Kommissar X movies) to patrol the grounds in the hope of keeping the pupils safe.

Frankly if I had to choose between a fishy monster or Sigurd's obscenely large bulge I know which I'd probably need more protection from, it's almost as if he has a babies arm down there.

A baby bodybuilders arm.

A baby bodybuilders arm holding an apple.

A really, really big apple.

With one huge weeping eye.

Arriving the following day astride a huge motorbike, Sigurd and his trousers cause quite a stir (and a hell of a lot of dampness) amongst the students as well as a feeling of complete loathing from Elke.

I doth think she protests too much but let's wait and see.

You would, he would, your mum did. Twice.

Patrolling the grounds every night with his massive weapon cocked and ready to fire, our he-man hero alleviates the boredom by leering and winking at the girls whilst they get ready for bed.

And being dolly burds they fahkin' love it.

Obviously.

Unfortunately (or fortunately if you prefer stalking barely legal girls to killing monsters) the beast appears to be more interested in killing the townsfolk.

Which, if I'm honest doesn't seem to bother anyone until the creature murders the local homeless musician cum rent boy Tobias that is.

With no-one left to cuddle up to on those cold winters nights when their wives have locked them out, a mob of the towns most mustachioed men march on the mayor's cottage and demand action.

Back at the school shifty Sigurd is having some trouble of his own after being caught masturbating in the pupil's private pool.

Ms. Elke, still not swayed by his manliness, sends our hero off into the countryside for a swim in a nearby lake in the vain hope of cooling his ardor.

"Ere! Can you smell Mackerel?"

Wandering around like a lost child (albeit a lost child with a massive hard-on), Sigurd comes across (I'm not even going to type it) a ravishing redhead in a green fringed bikini lounging nonchalantly on a rock trying her best not to appear too cold.

Having not seen a female for nearly fifteen minutes Sigurd gives chase but the mysterious woman gracefully glides thru' the rocks, her ample arse gently bouncing hypnotically as she goes before disappearing from sight. 

Bewitched by this ginger siren Sigurd begins to hang around the lake on a daily basis in the hope of seeing her again and luckily (with the movie only being ninety odd minutes) this happens fairly quickly.

But not as quickly as Sigurd's smooth moves seeing as within minutes he manages to get his mysterious Ms. into a saucy clinch on a dirty mattress in a broken down fisherman’s hut.

The romantic devil.

Unfortunately (for him and us tho' I reckon the lady had a narrow escape) just at the point of entry a big bearded man appears and reprimands Sigurd for keeping Lorelei out for so long.

But wait, isn't Lorelei the name of the flesh-feasting beast?

Sigurd thinks for a moment before remembering that one Lorelei is a big green monster whilst the other is a curvaceous sex kitten played by Berlin born Liné, from the equally fantastic La orgía nocturna de los vampiros.

Without another word beardy scoops her up into his muscled, well oiled arms and proceeds to walk straight into the lake.

Sigurd is intrigued to say the least.

"Hey Senorita! How'd you fancy coming in the back o' me car and letting me shite in your mooth?"

Dazed, confused and still aroused Sigurd is wandering aimlessly thru the woods when he discovers a shifty Von Lander skulking in the bushes during what appears to be an impromptu dogging session.

The doctor, however, obviously horrified at the thought of being outed as a sex fiend begins to confuse Sigurd with his utter bollocks theories.

You know the type of thing; much mention of the moons rays, waffle regarding photochemical stuff and theories on the molecular structure of things.

And to prove all these theories and how on earth they relate to the monster he invites Sigurd back to his Victorian style knocking shop cum laboratory where he makes a severed human hand grow green and scaly.

He's even created a radioactive steak knife in case he gets close enough to stab the creature.

Or for if he ever has a radioactive steak obviously.

Sigurd is impressed.

Unfortunately before a town meeting can be called Von Lander is violently murdered (is there any other kind?) by Lorelei and his lab burnt to the ground.

Every cloud has a silver lining however (except mushroom clouds, their linings are Strontium 90 based) as this only increases Sigurd's acceptance of the idea that his new squeeze Lorelei could in fact be the same Lorelei that's killing everyone.

Thinking the whole situation over for several seconds he decides that even tho' she can be a wee bit grumpy, Elke is probably better sex material and so heads off to the beach wearing his tiniest shorts and carrying a big bomb.

Ickle finn leg not shown.

Persuading a local fisherman to take him out onto the lake, our horny hero plunges into the waters just below the infamous rocks from where Lorelei originally jumped and soon discovers an ancient underwater cavern festooned with jewels, gold and bikini clad ladies.

Which is nice.

But for once Sigurd is not to be distracted by such things, he's here on a mission, not only to blow the place to Govan and back but to also inform Lorelei that he's breaking up with her due in part to her habit of eating people but mainly cos she stinks of herring.

What a guy.

Jeremy Beadle: The Revenge.

After a few minutes of inconsequential dialogue and slow fighting Sigurd manages to fight off the bikini girls advances and set the charges before swimming to safety and leaving poor Lorelei to die under a collapsing hill.

Or did she?

Back on the mainland Elke is enjoying a midnight walk around the grounds when she hears a rustling in the bushes followed by the faint aroma of fish...

Lorelei is alive and well and out for revenge on Sigurd's 'other woman', jumping out from behind a tree and indulging in a spot of girl on fish wrestling.

Which frankly isn't as exciting as it sounds.

Luckily Sigurd arrives in the nick of time and plunges his radioactive blade into Lorlelei who then, not too surprisingly dies as the lovers gaze into each others eyes.

Aww, how sweet.

Yup, someone was paid for designing this.

Not only taking liberties with the Lorelei myth but kinda taking the piss a wee bit too, Blind Dead creator Amando de Ossorio takes the traditional tale of a beautiful siren who lures sailors to their deaths by enticing them into the rocky cliffs of the River Rhine and crafts it into one of the most terrifying monster movies ever made.

By that I mean one of the most terrifying monster movies ever made by someone named deOssorio and titled Las garras de Lorelei obviously.

Glad that's out of the way.

The real Lorelei yesterday. Well a dramatic (and incredibly hot) statue of her anyway. Here's hoping it's wipe clean.

Although never hitting the heights of The Blind Dead, Las garras de Loreleiis a near perfect blend of tight storytelling, great locations, seventies breasted woman, shoddy gore and frankly bonkers characterization all mixed in with some fantastic Carry On style sauciness and topped off with a career best performance from Tony Kendall's trousers.


A must see for any self respecting fan of fish-based romantic horror or just those who enjoy staring at a (very) well endowed man for an hour and a half.

Perfection.

bridezilla.

Been busy drawing gangsters 'n' guns for a top secret project so felt like a wee change of pace.

The Blood Spattered Bride (AKA The Bloody Bride. 1972).
Dir: Vicente Aranda.
Cast: Simón Andreu, Maribel Martín, Alexandra Bastedo, Dean Selmier, Rosa Rodriguez, Montserrat Julio and Angel Lombarte.

"They'll come back. They cannot die!"

The lovely librarian-like Susan (La cera virgen star Martin) and her unnamed (onscreen) husband - who for the duration of this review we will call Bob (Andreu from Amando de Ossorio's classic Night of the Sorcerers which I really should review at some point) are speeding thru' the Spanish countryside en route to the honeymoon hotel after just getting married where they'll spend a few days holed up for some rumpy pumpy before heading to Bob’s family estate, a massive castle which he's not visited for many a year.

Which is always the way in these films.
Arriving at the hotel Bob tells Susan to head straight up to the room while he 'puts the car in the garage' - which isn't a euphemism I'm afraid - and Susan, being a wee bit wet, nods her head and does as she's told.

Ah it was a more innocent time.

And by innocent I mean slightly sexist obviously.

Hanging her clothes up in the wardrobe she's surprised when a man with a stocking on his head jumps out and after smothering her with her veil, tears off her clothes and begins to ravish her.

Which I must admit was fairly unexpected.

Suddenly Bob enters the room to Susan sitting on the bed in an undamaged dress, looking as though she's just farted and followed thru'.

“I don’t want to stay here, I don’t like this hotel.” She says.

Phew, it was all in her head.

As opposed to all in the wardrobe obviously.

Paddington.

Anyway 10 minutes in and we've had the first breast reveal - to prove this is an artsy vampire film obviously - so with that out of the way we can get on with the pesky plot as Bob packs up and takes Susan to his castle where she meets his - again nameless - servants/housekeepers (Lombarte from The Killer with a Thousand Eyes, and Horror Rises from the Tomb's Julio) as well as their 12-year-old daughter Carol (Rodriguez), who all take to her straight away.

Possibly because they were worried that being a castle owning rich bloke he was more interested in deflowering Carol than meeting someone his own age.

Just me then?

Fair enough.

This is probably really symbolic of something or other but I'm too thick to know. Sorry.

Retiring to the bedroom that evening Bob is surprised to find that Susan wants him to undress her (lazy cow) but when he happily obliges by tearing at her flimsy lace gown with his sweaty sausage fingers (tho' leaving her massive granny pants intact) she lies there in shock as visions of the  masturbatory hallucinatory fantasy she had in the hotel fill her mind.

Guilty pleasures or an ominous sense of things to come?

Who can say cos by this point Susan's slight mentalism is showing in other ways as she begins to see a beautiful, blonde girl in a lavender dress roaming the estate.

And she's sure she's seen this woman before.

Spooky.

Possibly the most erotically librarian based outfit I have seen for quite some time. That is all.

Bored and wandering the house to look for things to dust (as women do) Susan soon notices that every one of the family portraits adorning the walls of the castle are of men and inquisitively asks Carol the reason why.

Because it's easier to ask a small child about your husbands family history than your actual hubbie obviously.

As it turns out it's quite an interesting story - well more interesting than the main plot anyway - you see all the portraits of the ladies were stashed in the cellar by order of her husband’s granddad after he caught his wife having sex with the postman.

Which is fair enough I guess.

One portrait in particular intrigues Susan tho and that's the one of a blonde woman in a lavender dress, caressing an ornate dagger in one hand whilst wearing four massive inverted rings on the other.

It'd destroy you just thinking about a hand job.

The strangest thing about the painting tho' is the fact that the face has been cut out just like one of those novelty 'Kiss Me Quick' stand-ups you used to get at the seaside.

This it transpires is Bob's totally bonkers great aunt Mircalla Karstein who a century back, killed her husband on their wedding night as he attempted to do something very naughty to her.

Tho' they don't tell us what.

Anyway it was said that Mircalla was discovered the next morning sprawled across the bed with her nightie up around her neck next to her husband’s mutilated corpse in a deathly trance-like state but as it was a Sunday and the local doctor was out fishing the family decided to have bury her next to her hubbie to save time and any uncomfortable chat when she awoke.

And on that note Bob takes Susan to the tomb where she's buried in order to crack open the coffin and show her the bones.

What a romantic devil.

"Laugh now!"

And with that Susan's dreams about the mysterious blonde become much more vivid.

Like you're surprised?

From imagining Mircalla giving her the dagger from the painting to dreaming about touching Mircalla's breasts (well it is European), Susan becomes more and more distraught as the nightmarish visions continue and the situation isn't helped when she discovers the dagger under her pillow one morning.

As is the way everyone is quick to blame Carol who unfortunately doesn't get spanked with a slipper, instead she's tutted at and sent to her room whilst Bob goes off to bury the blade in the garden.

It's like a particularly drugged up episode of Neighbours if I'm honest.

But the dreams don't stop and the next night Susan imagines Mircalla leading her to the grandfather clock in the hall, opening it to reveal the dagger before taking Susan back to the bedroom  where the pair stab Bob to death with it before removing his heart.

And his pants.

"Put it in me!"

In order to prove that the dreams are nothing but the result of a fragile female imagination Bob takes Susan to the clock to prove it but is fairly surprised to see that the dagger is in fact inside and with this he storms of to see the family doctor (Selmier) for some advice.

After listening to Bob whiter on for hours the doctor decides that Susan is suffering from a malaise often found in recently deflowered women and prescribes bubble baths and snuggles before warning Bob that if the treatment doesn't work they will have to lock her up.

That's the 70s for you.

As Susan gets more and more grumpy, rejecting not only her husbands advances but also his offers of warm, milky tea leaving Bob no alternative but to head off to the local secluded beach for a tearful wank and a ham sandwich.

Oh and to rebury the dagger obviously.

And it's there that things begin to get really odd.

Or ludicrous, take your pick.

You see, as Bob finishes burying the blade (ooeerr) he notices not only the top of a snorkel protruding from the sand a few feet away from him but also a human hand.

Quickly heading over he starts to frantically dig away around the snorkel soon uncovering a buxom blonde (Bastedo, from The Champions), totally naked save for the diving mask and a set of huge poundshop rings which she wears palm side in on her left hand.

Thanking Bob for digging her up she introduces herself as Carmilla (only one name a bit like Shakira or Billie) and explains that she'd fallen asleep sunbathing after a wee bit of scuba-diving and must have been buried when the tide came in.

Totally accepting this explanation Bob offers the nude woman a lift to the castle where she can borrow some clothes and maybe get a bite to eat.

Sounds legit.

You're welcome.

Unable to remember anything but her own name, Susan and Bob have no choice but to look after Carmilla till she regains her memory - which she appears to be trying to get back by sleeping in a makeshift coffin all day then parading around the house after dark in low cut dresses whilst licking her lips everytime Susan walks by.

Which is fairly enjoyable to watch but probably not to live with.

As you can imagine all this bouncy breast activity has a bit of a negative effect  on Susan, who gradually falls under Carmilla's spell and begins to partake in late night trysts with the mysterious stranger in the woods much to Bob's chagrin.

Standing up for himself he insists that their new houseguest gets a job to help with the bills and Carmilla (surprisingly) agrees applying for - and getting - a post at the local school teaching biology to Carol and her classmates.

Especially the bits about blood.

Between teaching teens and teasing troubled tottie Carmilla feeds Susan’s barely suppressed hatred for her husband whilst feeding on Susan's blood late at night in the old church where Mircalla is buried.

It's all go isn't it?

Worried for his wife's sanity - and frustrated that Carmilla is getting more action than he is - he calls on the doctor (not that one) to investigate and after a few evenings following the pair around he comes across the pair in a saucy sapphic situation, curled up naked in a Habitat sofa coffin in the church.

The office Secret Santa got stranger every year.

With her lesbian lusts discovered Carmilla decides the time is right to rid herself of the meddling menfolk around her so that she can have Susan all to herself....

From Spanish arthouse auteur, director, screenwriter and producer Vicente Aranda comes this slow burning take on J. Sheridan Le Fanu's 1872 Gothic novella of Carmilla that owes more to Jean Rollin's Shiver of the Vampires (released the previous year) than it does Hammer's kinky Karnstein trilogy.

Which is kinda disappointing but heyho.

I mean The Vampire Lovers has Madeline Smith in it so wins just for that fact alone. 

But whereas Rollin rebelled against such outdated notions as coherent plotting, casting actual actors  and Hammer concentrated solely on Ingrid Pitts admittedly stunning cleavage, Aranda - due in part to the draconian censorship laws regarding nudity on film during the Franco era - seems more interested in exploring Catholic guilt and sexual repression mixed in with a wee bit of social commentary regarding the treatment of women in 70s Spain.

Which is a worthy cause if not a wholly satisfying one when the poster promises blood, boobs and that woman from The Champions seducing a petite brunette.

Plus it's pretty difficult to criticize something when you're bound by its rules.

And even he admitted that the countries censorship issues  caused problems for him, especially when shooting Carmilla's demise.

But at least he tried, his earlier works Fata Morgana and The Exquisite Cadaver go someway to proving that.

"I can see your house from here Peter".

 

Luckily he has a cast that can carry the movie - even at it's most bizarre/ludicrous - delete as applicable - moments, from Maribel Martín's neurotically nervous young bride to Simón Andreu's condescendingly creepy hubby, every member of the films small cast gives it their all but most surprising of all is Alexandra Bastedo's seriously underplayed Carmilla.

For those of us used to the voluptuous vamps of Hammer or the council estate, dirt footed Rollin rascals Bastedo is a revelation, coldly calculating with a performance that is perfectly pitched 'tween boredom and bonkers.

Definitely leaning more toward classy vamp than saucy tramp she even manages to look otherworldly and aloof when clad only in a pair of goggles and buried in a kids sandpit.

I see your dad's taking the divorce well.

Go in expecting a feast of blood soaked girl on girl titillation and you'll be heartily disappointed but if you switch off your sleaze-radar and settle back for something a wee bit more refined you'll discover a wee gem of a movie that whilst nowhere near as great as Daughters of Darkness is an entertaining enough way to spend an evening.

Bizarrely enough tho' if you take this, The Vampire Lovers and Shiver of The Vampire and stick them in a blender you'd probably get the perfect Carmilla adaptation.

Maybe one day.

horsing around.

As a teen the cover for this was the second most terrifying piece of pre-cert VHS art ever (after Zombie Creeping Flesh obviously) so for years I stayed away from it due to total fear and worries over my mental health.

Mainly because of the really odd angle of the girls head.

But in part because it didn't feature any of 'the horror' tho' it did feature ladies kissing each other which frankly the thought of terrified my tiny 12 year old mind.*

But it's just come out on shiny BluRay so I thought I'd throw caution to the wind and give it a shot.

Plus it's under a different title with totally different art which made it easier.


The Coming of Sin (AKA Visita del vicio, Violation of the Bitch, Sex Maniac
Sodomia. 1978).
Dir: José Ramón Larraz.
Cast: Patricia Granada (As Patrice Grant), Lidia Zuazo (As Lydia Stern), Rafael Machado, David Thomson, Lea Candle, Daisy Jules and Montserrat Julió.

Somewhere in the lush Spanish Countryside, the fairly harsh faced but extremely wealthy painter Lorna's (Manchester-based TV studio and star of the classic Más allá del deseo, Granada) quiet life creating those pictures of dogs playing poker and drinking gin is rudely interrupted when her pal Doris asks her to look after her 17 year old orphan house maid, the thinly mustached and illiterate (it's like character cliche bingo here) Triana (Zuazo from Consultorio sexológico and your dad's bed) while Doris and her husband head off on holiday to Tenby for a fortnight.

Bored with having no-one to talk to (or to clean up the mess) Lorna excitedly agrees, happy to take Triana under her wing but as she begins to prepare the guest bedroom Doris warns her that the sultry gypsy girl is a wee bit mental and suffers from recurring dreams about being bummed to death by horse riding binmen.

Lorna - being either a nice lady or totally self absorbed - doesn't seem to mind and welcomes Triana into her home.

But not her bed.

Well not yet.

But you can kinda tell that will happen later.

Paddington.

The pair hit it off almost immediately tho' with Triana expressing admiration for Lorna's painting skills and Lorna enjoying her guest's guitar playing prowess and arched eyebrows but although things seen to be going swimmingly, Triana is still dreaming of a naked (bin) man astride a big (in every way) black horse stalking her around Lorna's estate.

And by that I mean the countryside and not her lady garden.

Scarily Triana soon realises that the topless man is real (I knida figured that she already knew that horses exist) when she comes across him one day whilst she's emptying the bins.

As anyone would do in this situation, Triana grabs a rifle and tries to shoot him much to Lorna's chagrin and our artsy pal angrily tells Triana that it's bad manners to shoot at random people on horseback and not to do it again.

Which is Brexit in a nutshell really.

As the pouting pair share long lingering looks over the spaghetti meatballs their relationship takes a turn for the - slightly - Sapphic when Lorna takes Triana into town to buy her a pearl necklace obviously to make up for the fact that she can't furnish Triana with a homemade one herself and the pair excitedly head home for crisps, fizzy pop and a movie.

Later that day tho' when she's sneaked out for a crafty fag Lorna too spots the naked man on a horse and immediately becomes transfixed by him and in an attempt to cool her ardour Lorna dresses up in her dads suit and gets Triana to pencil in her mustache so the pair can go out flamenco dancing together without raising any suspicions of lady love amongst the god fearing locals.

 Fuck me this is convoluted.

Bardo have let themselves go.

Returning home the pair enjoy a nice cup of hot chocolate (and a Kit Kat) before retiring but Lorna's sleep is interrupted when Triana appears naked at the bottom of her bed allegedly to clean Lorna's shoes.

Realising that as excuses go that one sounds a bit shit Triana jumps into Lorna's bed where a wee bout of big bushed 70s style sexiness does indeed ensue.

Twice.

The next day and in order to clear her head after such a marathon shagathon, Triana decides to go for a leisurely stroll in the local woods but who does she find standing by the stream?

Only the horse man.

And this time he's stark bollock naked.

And he has a massive erection**.

A massive erection that he's determined to put in Triana whether she agrees or not.

What a rotter.

Luckily she's stronger than she looks (plus her massive grey granny pants appear to be welded on) and she easily fights him off, finally subduing him by beating him around the head with a handy polystyrene rock.

With his cock in one hand and cradling his bleeding bonce in the other he wanders off to the lake giving Triana ample time to run home and into Lorna's arms.

Lorna seems unconcerned tho' and tells Triana to grow up and stop snottering on her shoulder before brusquely heading into the kitchen to prepare lunch as they're expecting a guest.

It comes as no surprise to find that the guest is in fact the rapey young bloke himself.

As he sits down on the sofa (whilst thankfully keeping his penis in his trousers), Lorna explains to Triana that Chico (council estate Michael Brandon, Machado)  lives in a shed near to her property (as in her house not her lady parts) and has helpfully offered to give Lorna horse-riding lessons.

Obviously unable to resist his charms - or his horse -  Lorna eagerly agrees and is soon ordering poor Triana around the house to fetch cakes and coffee as she (stiffly) flirts with Chico.

Triana is not a happy bunny.

As night falls Triana heads of to bed where her Chico-centric dreams take a more sinister (if that were possible) turn as she imagines herself strapped into a big gold horse with her ares hanging out as a naked Chico circles her on a (naked) horse.

I think this may be symbolic - or sort of sexual - but I can't be sure.

Answers to the usual address.

And with that the scene is set for 40 odd minutes of knowing looks, creepy fortune tellers, drunken threesomes, huge amounts of 70s bush and a wee bit of rough sex that culminates with a very sweaty Triana hiding in a bush wielding a shotgun.

Just like your mum and dad's 25th wedding anniversary party.

Yer ma's taking the divorce well.

Hot off the heels (well not that hot seeing as it was 4 years later but heyho it's just cliched review speak) of his saucy 1974 leg-twitcher Vampyres, José Ramón Larraz presented us with another nice hot pie slice of eroticism - this time swapping the damp English countryside for a sun-bleached Spain and replacing the girl on girl bloodletting for girl on girl flamenco dancing before adding some obsessively erotic equestrian action years before My Little Pony made it mainstream to lust after horses.

For its miniscule budget the film looks very nice tho' I'm never sure if that's due to Fernando (Cannibal Apocalypse) Arribas' soft-focus camerawork or the fact that the DVD transfer I watched was oh-so slightly out of focus (tho' not having my glasses on probably didn't help), either way I challenge you to find another film where a gypsies arse looks so peachy and sun-burnt whilst still maintaining an air of mystery.

Your mum and your Auntie Jean getting ready for bingo.

As another plus point the cast (what little there is) are great - Lidia Zuazo is all dusky and mysterious (or is that bored?) and raffish Rafael Machado comes across like an evil Jacko from Brush Strokes but with sharper nipples whilst Patricia Granada plays the beige-clad brush wielding Lorna to perfection.

A pity then that the dubbing director decided to use the cast of the Jim Davidson comedy classic Up The Elephant And Round The Castle to supply a couple of the voice artistes.

I mean there's nowt like someone shouting "Jellied eels!" at the point of climax to spoil your enjoyment of a movie.

Still if you're really bothered about being put off your stroke by the sound of bow bells you can always turn the volume down.

Recommended for fans of 70s front bums and Black Beauty.






































*By that I don't actually mean just ladies kissing but kissing in general. What can I say? I was a shy child.

** Seriously it looks like someone has strapped a babies head to a hosepipe.