leathery balls.

I sometimes get emails complaining that there isn't enough sport featured on this blog.

Or girls with massive chins.

But mainly it's folk just wishing me dead.

Or things like this:

Which is nice.

So with everyone gripped by 'the World Cup fever' as they say I reckoned now would be the time to jump on that bandwagon and hopefully get some new readers/sponsorship/money.

I can but dream.

So as all you 'soccer' fans say:

"Come on the reds!"

Or something.

And yes I know I repost this every time there's a major football tournament on but what do you expect for free?

Sing gum zhook kao (AKA Sexy Soccer, 2004)
Dir: Sik Hok Min (Yup, that's right - THE Sik Hok Min)
Cast: Au Yeung, Carmen Yeung and lots of other people but I've discovered that no-one actually reads the cast list bit, they go straight to the movie poster that's usually right below.

Professional sleazy guy Terry Rolando (Yeung, probably) is having a wee bit of bad luck culminating with a run in with the local loan shark.

You see he'd made a huge bet on his fave team winning the football championship cup (or something....as you can probably tell, I'm not really the sporty type) but guess what?

Yup, they lost.

Feeling generous the loan shark decides against cutting his throat and instead offers him one last chance to come up with the cash.

With no idea as to what he could do to raise the money Rolando decides to go watch a football match to get a wee bit of inspiration.

It's there that whilst enjoying the game his eyes are draw to a brash n' busty jogger bouncing by him at half time.

Rolando sees this as a message from God telling him to form an all female football team (named Friendly Balls) to compete against the all male squads, with the ladies uses their 'sexy bodies' to distract the testosterone fueled male players.

How this would work is never fully explained (much the same way as the loan shark storyline never re-appears) but, we've been promised scantily clad and sexy girls playing football so let's stick with it and see if it delivers.

Same shit....different smell.

Anyway back to the plot (which I will cover quickly so I can eradicate any memory of this film from my head), everything starts swimmingly with much training footage of girls jogging in tiny shorts and shots of sweaty ladies jumping on the spot as Rolando's plan seems to be foolproof enough for him to actually have a chance of winning whatever he's meant to win (I don't really care).

Unfortunately his arch rival Dennis gets wind of his plan and has a secret weapon of his own....

You see, he's secretly been training a team of homosexualists to play against the ladies in the final.

The rotter!

When all seems lost tho' our hero comes up with his greatest plan yet.

Remembering that 'the gays' like arse he gets all the ladies to flash their bum cheeks at them, instantly curing them of their gayness and thus enabling the girls to win.

Gary Lineker and your mum.

Effectively that's it as far as the movies plot goes, with half of the film being a shameful excuse to see a handful of fairly attractive young ladies with bored looks on their faces (and one with a chin like an ironing board) prancing around in tight tops and tiny seventies style shorts wiggling and jiggling like they're have a stroke.

But not in a good way like when Helen Robinson had hers in Neighbours.

What he said.

The remainder of this epic consists of endless scenes of Rolando (dressed like your dad) having sex with the team ( either in reality or 'hilarious' dream sequences) in the most disturbing scenes in cinema since Harvey Keitel cracked one off over that car door in The Bad Lieutenant'.

True there's and almost obscene amount of nudity (plus sex scenes that border on hardcore) but it's a bit like watching a video of your parents having sex.

In your bed.

And trust me on this when I tell you that's not a nice feeling.

No idea if she's in the movie but this picture came up when I was searching for the poster so thought it'd be a shame if I didn't share it.

Saying that tho' at least Harvey looked like he was enjoying himself (as did my folks), Yeung on the other hand keeps pulling comedy 'cum' faces whilst making grabbing actions toward the unfortunate actresses breasts.

For Minutes at a time we're subjected to this in extreme close-up, it's almost as if he's possessed your teevee and is desperately trying to escape to do bad things to you.

And your mum.

And your mum's dog.

Twice.

I will admit that the film does have a few stand out moments, mainly showcasing the total ineptitude of those involved, including a fantastic bit in which one of the team actually stops speaking to look off-camera at the director for reassurance before continuing the scene.

Buy this film now and see how many you can spot.

It'd be much easier than trying to spot any of the films promised 'sexy' moments.

They can't be arsed why should I?

Market to us foreign devils as a kinky version of the classic Steven Chow comedy Shaolin Soccer, this is more Benny Hill than Jimmy Hill, replacing the formers knockabout comedy, musical numbers and martial arts mayhem with copious amounts of spotty arses, crap Cosby sweaters and a plethora of frankly arse numbing sexual shenanigans that only seem exist in order to pad out the movie's meager running time.

Worth it if you're bored to a point of suicide, find horse faced Chinese folk attractive or if you don't have a girlfriend.

Or like football obviously.

romay holiday.

With still no fucking idea when we're meant to be moving or where to (Unwell Towers is currently collapsing due to being built on an ancient Etruscan burial ground) we appear to be stuck in a nightmarish loop of boxing and binning whilst the youngest of our brood has taken to removing everything from the boxes as we go before stashing it in a 'safe space'.
 

Anyway I just picked this up from behind his bed and he insisted it was his second favourite film ever (just behind the original King Kong) so guess how I've spent Father's Day?

Enjoy.

Les Amazones du Temple D'or (AKA Golden Temple Amazons, Amazons in the Temple of Gold, 1986).
Dir: Alain Payet (AKA James Gartner - yet credited to good old Jess Franco overseas).
Cast: J. R. Gossart, Analía Ivars, William Berger, Antonio Mayans, Stanley Kapoul, Olivier Mathot, Eva León* and Lina Romay.

“ I'm Rena and I will enjoy playing with you!”

Somewhere in the steaming hot jungles of the Amazon (or more likely the park behind the directors house) the sweaty, mouse like missionary Tom Godly (Bra maker Gossart) is surprised one morning whilst on his way to convert the natives when he comes across - stop it - a secret cave hidden in the mysterious Blue Mountains (no, not the ones from that Laurel and Hardy film) that is filled to bursting with large quantities of gold.

Returning to his jungle pad as fast as his skinny Christian legs can carry him and with his pockets bulging with a dozen or so Ferrero Rocher sized nuggets he excitedly tells his fright haired, tombstone toothed wife Greta (Franco's missis Romay in a scarily non-naked film role) that because they are now rich enough that they can give up this Holy lark and retire to Ibiza.

Cagney And Lacey: The Pikey Years.

What he hasn't realized, however is that the cave is in fact a holy golden temple belonging to the local tribe of topless, gold pants wearing Amazon warriors, feared amongst the locals and ruled with a rod of iron by their scary leader Stan Uruk (Berger from The Winds of War).

Well, it's an easy mistake to make.

These bewigged and busty warrior women, discovering that they've been robbed, follow Tom back home, demanding that he give them back the booty or else.

Tom chooses 'or else' much to the chagrin of their evil leader who being one of those guys that justifies every single one of his frankly bonkers - and often violent -  actions with some kinda religion reason (as is the way of these types), not too surprising kills poor old Tom and Greta in a hail of poison arrows and slow motion yelling, leaving their young daughter Liana (fish lipped Franco regular Ivars) to fend for herself in this hostile tropical hell.

Or Govan as we call it up here.

Luckily a friendly monkey and a local tribe take pity on her and help her out which is sweet in a kinda Disney way.

"Fiona! where's mah lunch?"

Jump forward a few years and the church have finally decided to send a new missionary (who scarily is the spitting image of Father Ted, not as he looks now obviously seeing as he's been dead about 20 years but you know what I mean) to discover what happened to Tom and Linda.

Better late than never I suppose.

Arriving at their dilapidated cabin he's surprised (there's a lot of it in this movie) to find Liana still living there in all her grown up glory, complete with a faintly embarrassing bubble perm and dressed in skimpy animal skins but luckily still resembling a startled haddock.

Despite being nubile and (half) naked, the missionary has no interest in Liana (well, she's not a wee boy) so he decides instead to read her fathers diary aloud, which as luck (or really atrocious plotting) would have it, conveniently explains all about the gold and her parents subsequent murder.

Which really begs the question as to why, after being run thru' with loads of arrows, he decided to write about it rather than raid the medicine drawer for aspirin or at very least a plaster.

"My dad told me about those cults.
People dressing up in black
and saying Our Lord's going to
come back and save us all".
"No, Liana, that's us. That's Catholicism".
"Oh right".

Upon hearing of her parents fate - she must have been busy when it happened, either that or she has the memory, as well as the looks, of a fish - Liana vows to have her revenge upon the evil Amazon women (and scary Stan) and immediately sets off towards the Blue Mountains, accompanied by her faithful pet chimp Rocky (himself) and a funny tribesman named Koukou (Kapoul from the Andrea - Nights of Terror - Bianchi classic Maniac Killer).

It's going to be a long film.

Cue an endless nightmare of stock footage animals, Liana's breasts bouncing in slow motion and random shots of a monkey grinning like a loon for what seems like days.

Which is all well and good if you like that sort of thing but not too exciting if you enjoy interesting characters exchanging meaningful dialogue.

All that may be about to change tho' as our terrific trio come across (not literally, tho' in this case it might have been fun to see) a group of explorers out searching for the Golden Temple.

And one of them is played by Emilio Linder!

Now that makes all the difference.

"Laugh Now!"

Anyway back to the plot where I can safely say without fear of spoiling it for those who've yet to see it but they all get to the cave unharmed (and with nay hair out of place or slips of nipple) and with no sense of jeopardy or danger whatsoever.

Tho' this may be to lull us into a false sense of security (or a coma) seeing as soon as they set foot in the cave our motley band are almost instantly rendered unconscious by Stan's eggy fart gas and imprisoned by the Amazon women ready to be used as slave labour in Uruk's secret gold mines.

Or was that The Chuckle Brothers secret lemonade factory?

Little Mix number one for Christmas....MONSTA!

None of these questions will be answered however as there are  more important things afoot, like overly long and totally random scenes of topless ladies in tiny gold pants sword fighting under the watchful (and lustful) gaze of the bequiffed and eyepatched Rina (the frankly magnificent León, best known around here for her top rendition of the top pop tune Una Mujer on the TeeVee show El Hotel de las Mil y Una Estrellas and a woman whose performance alone raises this film to genius level if I'm honest.).

It seems that Rina is a tad upset at Liana turning up and wants her out of the way just in case there's any chance of Uruk choosing our haddock-faced chum as his successor instead.

Luckily Rina has a cunning plan to rid herself of Liana that involves smearing blood on her (stunning) breasts in extreme close up whilst licking soot off various stoned wannabe starlets.

Which is nice work if you can get it.

Or just deeply tragic when you realise that this is the high point of the film.

Anyway, will our heroes escape?

And does anyone (except the investors) really care?

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

Aaah, you can't beat a wee bit of Jess Franco, the late great pensioner perv of quality Eurotrash, unfortunately tho' in this case he only seemed to be on hand to film the fleeting nude scenes (oh and his missis) which means that the usual Franco trademarks - sexy European girls with massive bushes writhing around on knock-off Ikea sofa beds whilst his other half licks tomato sauce of their thighs are all missing, replaced with director Payet's trademark 'point the camera randomly and hope something interesting happens' technique that he honed on such classics as Hitler's Last Train, Captive Women 5: Mistresses of the 3rd Reich, Confessions très intimes d'une petite fille and French Erection.

Eva León: Ask your granddad.

Luckily for us tho' he left his infamous Nazi porn chic obsessions at home this time, which would be OK if he'd at least attempted to add something (anything) else to the film other than a deep depressing hole that radiates out from the screen and into the pit of your stomach.

But why was Franco involved I hear you cry.

Rumor has it that he was just passing by the studio with his shopping one day and popped his head around the door to say hi.

But I like to think that maybe he was on holiday near the location and just stumbled across them filming.

Which would explain a lot.

Except that is why the whole thing look like a nursery school version of Raiders of The Lost Ark, albeit one with loads of wobbly breasts and some sporadic scenes of mindless violence.

Mumbled dubbing, a tinny synth score, a human/cod hybrid in a fur bikini and overlong slo-mo shots of topless women on horseback all add up to the celluloid equivalent of anal warts, just slightly more embarrassing to admit to having let alone enjoying.

I should start a support group.
































*Not this one:

drac attack.

Just heard the news that genre stalwart Jack Taylor has died at the grand old age of 99.

 

Regular (?) readers of this blog will probably be aware of him from such classics as Pieces, Nightmares Come at Night, The Killer is One of Thirteen, The Ghost Galleon, Night of the Sorcerers and Edge of The Axe among other top quality movies but to me I'll always remember him from the classic Vampire's Night Orgy.

Which bizarrely is why we are here.

You see, way back in 1973 Jack Taylor dubbed the late great Paul Naschy in the Javier Aguirre blood and boobs epic Count Dracula's Great Love, which also once had a poster for it that accidentally used a still from the aforementioned Vampire's Night Orgy.

It's like pottery.

 So with that..... 

Count Dracula's Great Love (AKA El gran amor del Conde Dracula, 1973).
Dir: Javier Aguirre.
Cast: Paul Naschy, Rosanna Yanni, Haydée Politoff, Mirta Miller, Ingrid Garbo and Víc Winner.

"The only thing you can think of is men. You'd sleep with a broom if it had pants!"

It's a cold dark night (is there any other kind?) in the backwoods of Transylvania (beautifully portrayed by the forests between the towns of Dénia and Xàbia in the eastern Spanish province of Alicante) Where comedy tramps and general ne'er-do-wells Geoff and Brian are busy delivering a huge wooden crate (that is to be fair not as wooden as either of them) to the local abandoned sanatorium cum creepy castle.

Reckoning that they're not getting paid enough to drag crates around assorted shrubbery at night the pair decide instead to open the crate and steal whatever trinkets are stored inside, unfortunately all it contains is the skeletal remains of a lady in a bad pound shop wig so - being a wee bit depressed at this - the pair excitedly explore the castle in the hope of finding something of value to steal.

Unfortunately for the dodgy duo they're being stalked by an unseen assailant who, after suddenly jumping out of a wardrobe bites Brian (to death) before planting an axe in Geoff's skull.

Which is nice.

Thanks to the wacky world of the shoddy dissolve and even shoddier titles we're quickly off to meet the studly Imre (Winner from Vengeance of the Zombies) who alongside a quintet of lovelies including the cute as a button Karen (the practically perfect Politoff), blonde bombshell (well more like a bombsite really), the seriously severe Senta (Fangs of The Living Dead's Yanni), pouty Elke (Naschy regular Miller) and his secret sexy squeeze Marlene (the terrifyingly chinned Garbo - no not that one - the one that was in that 'saucy' football comedy Las Ibericas FC) is traveling via coach to the nearby town of Cleftplate to take up residency as a professional bassoon player.

Admit it, even a sly tit wank would kill you.

Whilst regaling the laydees with daring tales of pub gigs and life on the festival circuit he realizes that they are about to pass thru' the exact spot in which  Jonathan Harker and Doctor Van Helsing killed Count Dracula and not one to miss a trick - or the chance of a quick glance at a heaving bosom - excitedly tells his companions the areas full gory story.

You see it wasn't only Dracula who caused terror in these parts as a few years after his (un)death a Doctor Terry Kargos bought the sanatorium and opened a men only gym cum sauna which it turns out seemed to be a cover for something a wee bit more sinister.

It appeared that many of the folk there died due to anemia and the doctor was suspected of harvesting their blood and using it in bizarre experiments.

Obviously he was hounded out of town by the locals and the place left abandoned.

Until recently that is when a Doctor Philip Marlow (Naschy channeling Liberace and The Count from Sesame Street via a drunken old uncle) paid a princely sum of £28 for it in order to open a drive-thru' garden centre.

Sounds legit.

"I fang you!"

All this talk of blood and gore spooks the horses causing the coach to lose a wheel and the driver getting kick in the face by a pony, killing him (the driver that is not the horse) instantly, leaving Imre and co. little choice but go to the castle and see if Doctor Marlow is at home.

Luckily he is (it would be a short film if he weren't) and graciously offers the group a cup of tea and a biscuit as well as a bed - or five - for the night.

After a quick snack and a plot-filling chat the group retire to bed (as opposed to retiring to the Costa Del Sol like your granddad) where sometime after midnight - probably - Karen is woken by a spooky noise and goes to investigate where she comes face to face with a now undead Brian who is now a vision of comedy fangs and ketchup.

As he moves in to bite her smooth, swan-like neck (as in it's long not covered in feathers) he is quickly chased away by a camply cape clad figure who then carries her back to bed.

"Put it in me!"

As our merry band head down for breakfast the next morn they are surprised to discover that their generous host is nowhere to be found, instead he's left a note explaining that he's off checking his traps* in the woods and to help themselves to Rice Crispies.

Hmmmm.....do you think he may actually be sleeping cos he's really Dracula?

Whilst Imre and Marlene head off into the woods to 'look for help', Karen, Elke and Senta decide to entertain themselves by having a poke around the castle's nooks and crannies which is kinda disappointing as I was hoping that they'd indulge in some nude volleyball but dem the breaks I guess, so the audience has to make do with them happening across Marlow's library where the find
- alongside a complete collection of Razzle and a dog-eared copy of The Book of Sex – the fabled diary of Van Helsing.

Senta, being the least thick begins to read aloud from the diary much to the chagrin of Elke who find it a wee bit too scary (no really) and begs her to stop.

Something I guess she doesn't often do seeing as how unconvincing she sounds.

Karen however seems fascinated by the tale of Dracula and his dead daughter and steals the book away for later.

...And they still can't get it tuned to 6 Music.

With not much else to fill the running time with we jump forward to lights out where after tuck  (sorry my public schoolness is showing) Karen curls up in bed to continue the terrifying tale, which is presented to us in groovy negative - presumably to hide the identity of the actor playing Dracula, which is a wee bit odd seeing as we can all guess that it's Naschy.

It does look nice tho'.

Pity the diary is utter drivel then, seeing as it appears to say that Dracula, although resurrected on an almost monthly after being slain is never 100% complete and can only regain his full unearthly powers by having sex with a virgin that has fallen in love with him for his personality as opposed to falling for him via the power  of spooky supernatural seduction.

Give that a try next time you're out on the pull lads and see how far that gets you.

Not only that but if this ever happens then Dracula can use his new found loves blood to then resurrect his daughter Sharon.

You remember, the skeleton from earlier.

See? They're not just making this shite up, there's a purpose for everything.

Insert cock here.

Whilst all this psychedelic flash-backery is going down Imre is wandering the hallways looking for the toilet when he's viscously attacked by Brian and given a bloody good biting, turning him into a vampire who then, in turn, messily attacks poor Marlene turning her too.

Phew, it's all go.

Marlow, tho' is too busy to notice as he's taken to following an oblivious Karen around like a lost puppy.

Albeit one with a huge nob and a really hairy back and arse.

Senta meanwhile has decided that she fancies a wee bit of naked Naschy herself so plans to seduce the doctor by falling into a bear trap, have him carry her to her room then expose her ample breasts and jump on him.

Who says romance is dead?

Unable to resist Senta's charms (OK tits) Marlow indulges in a wee bit of 'the sex' with her only to discover (disappointingly) that not only wasn't she a virgin but that he'd been thinking of Karen all the time.

Obviously the only course of action is to turn Senta into a vampire and go try his luck with Karen.

However as he's wiping his cock on his cape and scrubbing the blood from his mouth who should turn up but Imre hungry for blood.

And the only person with any left in the castle is Karen.

Much slow-style stage fighting ensues as Marlow tosses Imre out of the window and onto a handy spiked gate.

As he turns to dust Karen comes to realize that vampires are in fact real and that the king of them is standing infront of her professing undying love.

Will Karen and Draculabegin a romance to rival Harry and Meghan?

Will there be a wee bit more uncalled for - yet very welcome - nudity?

Will Paul Naschy ever shave his back?

It takes a special talent to get a still from a totally different movie on the poster. Fair play to him whoever it was.

From the fevered mind of Paul Naschy and the 70s busiest director (and official wrath of God) Javier Aquirre comes (quite literally) this supernatural tale of femmes, fangs and fancy  shirts all wrapped up in a blood red bow of sex and violence of the kind only found in Eurocinema of a certain age.

True the dubbing is ludicrously done, the effects are of a quality usually reserved for Christmas panto's and none of the lead actresses dresses fit but that just adds to its charm.

And talking of dubbing, as already mentioned, if you think Naschy sounds familiar that's because he's using the voice of cult Eurohorror actor Jack Taylor whose CV reads like a must watch of quality cinema taking in everything from The Ghost Galleon to Pieces via The Vampire's Night Orgy (perhaps that's where the poster mix up came from) and Conan The Barbarian.

Rest in peace sir.

And you think your mum is at bingo.

 Anyway back to the film at hand (before you start thinking this is a proper film blog) and while the obvious Spanish settings are in no way convincing as Transylvania the movie is so endearing as to make such trifling details irrelevant - we're here to see blood, babes, boobs and the big man himself take on the role of Dracula and whilst he may not hit the dizzy heights of Udo Kier (or Jack Palance) Naschy's vaguely puppy-like love lorn count is a fair extension of his more famous portrayal of the melancholic Waldemar Daninsky and is all the better for it.

It's just a pity he never donned the cape and fangs again.

Rum, sodomy and the lash.

But what of the rest of the cast I hear you cry.

Well whilst Víc Winner is all bushy sideburns and chiseled good looks his 'acting' style veers wildly from flat-packed shelf to homemade drinks cabinet the ladies do their best to walk and talk at the same time as they vainly attempt to stay inside their dresses that whilst looking very pretty appear to have been handed out at random.

Rosanna Yanni seems to spend the entire film hunched over in an attempt to get the obviously child sized communion dress to cover her breasts.

Poor lamb.

But at least Haydée Politoff looks yumsome.

As always.
   
But none of this matters as what we have here is a piece of pure Paul (Naschy) perfection that promises a veritable volcano of violence, sex and death which it delivers it in buckets and with a sneaky side helping of too-tight corsets and odd accents to boot.

If not cinematic gold it's at least a nice bit of terrifying tin.

























*As in things to catch animals in, not young guys dressed as sexy anime-style laydees for the sexual gratification of others - thought I'd clear that up.

nemod syad.

Girls are away at a dance performance so me and the boychild have a lads weekend planned where we eat crisps, drink pop and watch only the best movies.

Mausoleum (1983).
Dir: Michael Dugan.
Cast: Marjoe Gortner, Bobbie Bresee, Norman Burton, Maurice Sherbanee, LaWanda Page, Laura Hippe, Sheri Mann, Julie Christy Murray, Chu Chu Malave and Gene Edwards.

 

There's some strange shit goin' on in this house!

Like any good horror film worth its salt we open on a windswept graveyard where the young - and frighteningly dog faced - Susan (bony kneed Murray in her only film role outside those shorts she did to pay her way thru' college) is mourning her recently deceased mother as her posh tottie-like aunt Cora (Logan's Run and Swinging Barmaids star Hippe who killed herself shortly after making this movie - take from that what you will) pats her on the shoulder uncomfortably whilst offering to buy her ice cream and a pony to replace her dearly departed parent.

Why do I never get offered ponies?

Oblivious to all the bribery being offered (and wanting a unicorn probably - girls are never happy) Susan legs it and soon takes refuge in an old superimposed rainswept and spookily lit mausoleum (bearing her family name - Nemod - I'm sure her family must originally be from the village Nilbog featured in Troll2.) that is in no way at all scary or foreboding.

No seriously it's not, it actually looks for all the world like it's been outlined in Sharpie the matte work is so shit.

As a spooky fog rolls from its gates Susan pricks her finger on a crown of thorns hanging outside before entering the tomb to be confronted by a shadowy figure with unkempt nails who offers her blessed relief whilst making a passing pedophiles head explode.

Which seems legit.

I can see your house from here Peter.

 
Thru' the power of editing and rudimentary dissolves we're suddenly in the present day (which is the past now....scary eh?) where we find a now adult Susan (ex Playboy bunny Bresee in a performance that's all tits and teeth but not much else which at least means she fits in right at home here) living in a massive house albeit one filled with way too many windows and staircases than is needed and happily married to the ferret-like business bloke Oliver (Starcrash 'star', B'-movie god and once the world's youngest ordained preacher, Gortner) and obsessed with the colour brown for some reason.


Seriously, the house, her clothes, the plants - everything in this movie has the colour palette of dried cack.

Except when a demon appears then the fucker is lit up like a disco.

But I digress.

All seems normal (if you ignore everyone's stilted body language and speech patterns obviously) until that is Susan starts to act a wee bit strangely - or is that just begins to act?

Answers to the usual address.

Oliver thinks he has the perfect answer to Susan's woes so decides to take her disco dancing at the local nite spot where they enjoy (well I say enjoy but to be honest they just look dead inside tho' at least Bresee tries her hardest to look hip n' happening as she pulls a classic 'Le disco duck face') frugging away to some turgid instrumental disco track that even Mike Read would balk at for being too shit.

And he wrote the UKIP Calypso if you can remember that far back.

Luckily (for us) the whole ordeal is cut short when a drunken beardy man (who I was convinced was original Grizzly Adams star Dan Haggerty but was in fact Gene Edwards who played him in the 1990 remake/sequel) tries to molest Susan on the dance floor whilst Oliver is on the phone causing the couple to call it a night and head home.

Unfortunately the drunk bloke follows them but after a wee bit of shoving he wanders off to his car in order to drunkenly drive home, probably killing a few kids on the way.

But hey it's the 80s and no-one cared back then.

Suddenly and without warning - if you don't count the spooky score - Susan's eyes begin to glow green as she stares at the car for what seems like an eternity (thanks in part to the eye effect being animated over a still) before causing it to burst into flames, trapping and burning weirdy beardy to death inside.

"Eye hen!"

 

And from then on things go from bad to worse as poor Susan experiences angry mood swings and night sweats before turning into a full-blown psycho when she starts offering Ben the sleazy gardener (council estate David Hess, Sherbanee, who's probably been in other stuff but I can't be bothered checking) fresh cups of coffee whilst stroking her breasts then having sex with him in the garage and finally murdering the poor sod (to death) with a garden fork.

Aunt Cora is next on the death wish list, slashed to death whilst being levitated over the staircase after popping round with a cake.

Luckily no-one seems to notice until Oliver wakes up one night to find Susan sitting in a chair spouting gibberish and sporting a pair of comedy horns on her now donkey like head.

Terrified he runs down stairs and quickly calls their old friend and family psychiatrist Dr. Simon Andrews (Burton from Simon, King of the Witches which scarily is actually sitting on my desk as I type this) to ask for help.

It seems that Susan had a few mental health issues as a child due to her dad dying whilst trying to exorcise the demon that had possessed her mother.

Turns out that according to family legend a demonic curse has been passed down the female line of the Nomed family ever since some bizarre incident involving a crown of thorns (what? another one? - maybe this is important) and a sausage roll way back in 1692.

Anyway with all this demonic possession shite going around and with the movie hitting the halfway point it's time for a wee bit of comic relief so enter (roughly behind the bins) the Farrell's cleaner cum housemaid Elsie (Sanford and Son's Page who bizarrely enough at the start of her career, while performing as a burlesque style stripper in Missouri, was billed as "The Bronze Goddess of Fire" because she could light cigarettes with her fingertips*) who - in either a piece of post-modern comedy genius or ill advised racial stereotyping spends her time rolling her eyes whilst shouting out stuff like:

"There's some strange shit goin' on in this house!"
 
"No more grievin'. I'm leavin'!"

And the classic

"Great googily moogily!"

Whilst running about in high-speed effects whilst comedy 'wah wah' music plays in the background.

I'll not comment.
 

Skulk.

With time - and anything remotely resembling logic - running out, Andrews contacts an old friend and colleague of his, the boyishly barnetted Dr. Roni Logan (Mann) for help.

Which is lucky cos she knows loads about demons and the like.

Bizarrely all she does is rereads the family diary as it turns out that the way to kill the demon and Save Susan is actually written in it.

In English and everything.

Yup it appears that the pesky crown of thorns from earlier is important to the plot and all Adams has to do is place it on Susan's head whilst she's not looking.

This will in turn force the demon back to it's tomb giving our heroes time to then place it on the tomb itself locking the creature inside.

Sorted.

Andrews probably skipped that bit but makes amends by phoning Oliver to warn him that when he returns home from work not under any circumstances to have sex with his wife in the bathroom as her breasts may grow teeth and bite him to death.

Which is fair enough.

"Are you the farmer?"

Meanwhile back at the house an Hispanic bloke (Malave who scarily actually had an acting career of sorts, appearing in everything from A Force of One alongside Chuck Norris to multiple roles in the Barney Miller TV show and starring alongside the 'statuesque' Dona Speir in Fit To Kill) is delivering plants and the like to Susan.

But that's not the only thing he wants to fertilize and he's soon in the kitchen phoning his boss to say he'll be late back to the garden centre as Susan seductively flashes her ample breasts at him.

Don't worry tho' as there's no time for any more uncomfortable sex scenes as Susan has t go shopping for some shit occult based art before the movies climax so she quickly makes the guys head melt before going heading to the mall.

No really.

She actually goes shopping and steals some sub Boris Vallejo fantasy art** - she also kills a bald man by dropping him on a spiky sculpture that just happens to be sitting conveniently  on a picnic table before heading home for a well deserved bubble bath.

It's interesting to note that the mentalism and murders isn't the thing that sends Oliver over the edge but the crap art scattered around the house so to prove his manliness he storms into the bathroom to confront his wife.

"Spice Girls number one for Christmas...MONSTA!"

His anger soon subsides tho' as Susan steps out of the bath and into his arms but as the pair embrace Susan begins to change.

It seems that the demon is aware that Andrews is attempting to steal the crown of thorns from the mausoleum at end its reign of terror.

 Will Andrews succeed?

Will Oliver get eaten by the terrifying tittie teeth?

Will Susan actually put some proper clothes on?

At the height of the 80s low budget horror resurgence film maker Michael Dugan (director of the classic Raging Hormones, Youtube shorts creator and the man behind a little something called Chubby Chasers - go figure) decided what the world needed was a new scream queen to rival the likes of Jamie Lee Curtis, Adrienne King and Linnea Quigley so to that end decided to unleash the 'buxom and beautiful blonde actress' (according to IMDB) Bobbie Bresee upon the world in his second feature - after the 1976 family comedy Super Seal - Mausoleum.

Now don't all thank him at once.

A living embodiment of everything terrifying about the 80s - big boobs an even bigger blonde barnet and teeth so white they could blind you, Bresee is the main focus of the movie and Dugan structures the whole endeavor to showcase her talents as she runs the emotional gamut from happy to sad to sexy via sleepy and maybe bashful and it's her powerhouse performance that makes the movie so compelling.

Only joking.

He cast her cos she didn't mind getting her kit off.

But she's not the only one.

If there's a chance that a character can appear topless Dugan grabs it - from 'star' Marjoe Gortner pulling angry cum faces on a faux fur rug to the mightily manbreasted Norman Burton seductively taking a phone call in his bed, we're not even spared the sight of Maurice Sherbanee's sweaty pot belly being on show as he wanders around with the bottom of his shirt unbuttoned rubbing it seductively as he lusts after Bresee.

None of this nudity would be that bad tho' if any of the cast actually looked happy doing it but as it stands they all just appear nervous and wishing they were anywhere else but there.

I just sat watching hoping and praying that the director would realise that if the actors look uncomfortable pretending to have sex or being naked then maybe he'd see that we the viewer will feel uncomfortable watching.

Poor sods.

Except Sherbanee obviously - he seemed to be reveling in his new found freedom.

Creepy bastard.

"Shite in mah mooth!"

This isn't helped by the cast actually coming across as quite likeable - Gortner is his usual inoffensive self whilst Burton and the rest appear to be enjoying themselves (mostly) and Bresee comes across as a likeable enough person out of her depth both onscreen and off which means at time rather than reeling in terror at the horrors onscreen you're cringing like a parent watching your offspring mess up their lines in the school nativity.

Hopefully not whilst naked tho.

Its saving grace tho' is the fantastic make-up FX work from the late great  John Carl Buechler whose career spanned Friday 13th Part VII to Hatchet and everything in between - the gore effects (especially the head explosion and melting man) are top notch and it still gives me a warm feeling to see a full prosthetic bodysuit on screen even if at times it looks more Space Precinct than Pazuzu.

Fairly mad, sometimes bad - frustratingly so at times - Mausoleum is a harmless and fairly pain free way to spend an evening provided you have enough beer and crisps at hand plus for anyone who's ever wonder what a school disco would look like if lit by Mario Bava then the possession scenes will answer that question for you.

And there isn't much higher recommendation than that.












































* She also swallowed fire and touched flaming torches to her naked body during her act as well as appearing on Rupaul's Supermodel Of The World Album and playing Rupaul.s mum in the Back To My Roots video.



**Tho' let's be honest he did produce some utter wank himself....like this Star Wars inspired piece for example:

rock the dagmar.

Spent the Christmas holidays eating too much, drinking too much and watching way too many films in the hope of working thru' the huge slush pile in the corner.

The Devil's Female (AKA Beyond the Darkness, Magdalena: The Devil Inside the Female. 1974) 

Dir: Walter Boos.

Cast: Dagmar Hedrich, Werner Bruhns, Michael Hinz, Peter Martin Urtel, Rudolf Schündler, Karl Walter Diess, Günter Clemens, Elisabeth Volkmann, Eva Kinsky, Petra Peters, Ursula Reit, Helena Rosenkranz, Toni Treutler and Anton Feichtner.

"Is she possessed by the Devil or by sex? Or is it an obsessive compulsion to make lascivious gestures and bestial motions?"

It's Friday night in hip 'n' happening downtown Bavarian night and local lady of the night - and part-time Rocky Horror cosplayer - Brenda (Guildenstern's best mate Rosenkranz best known around here for her top turns in the porn as education hits Schulmädchen-Report 7. Teil - Doch das Herz muß dabei sein and Vergiss beim Sex die Liebe nicht - Der neue Schulmädchenreport 13) is heading home after an evening of cheap booze and clumsy reach arounds.

Probably.

After knocking back a fat bloke in a pork-pie hat who offers he £5 for a wee cuddle she's surprised to find an old man, Joseph Winter, crucified on her front gate (and wearing nowt but a huge nappy) as she's struggling to find her keys.

Which is nice.

My mum's taking the divorce well...

Enter - roughly and from behind - the second best cinema cop duo (behind Spitz and Moran obviously) Kommissar Bob Snatch and his trusty assistant Inspektor Jack Flatley (TeeVee stalwart and what happens when you buy Robert Shaw off Wish Diess,better known for his portrayal of Jack Harris the classic Kleine Bank mit schlechten Noten and Clemens from Alle meine Töchter - you're welcome) who discover - after a quick autopsy, the films quite short - that the victim was actually a fairly well known Satanist who's been offed by some other Satanists for, um, reasons.

More importantly to the plot tho' is the fact that he was/is the legal guardian of his granddaughter, the sweet and innocent Magdalena (Hamster cheeked Hedrich from the Brazilian based love story Férias No Sul and fuck all else - unless you count those films your uncle made when he went to visit 'friends' in Germany obviously) who lost both her parents in a terrible accident when she was 5 years old.

Loved by her classmates at the exclusive boarding school she attends - and lusted after by the local hunk in the fashion boutique where she has a Saturday job, Magdalena is a perfect example of a happy - if a wee bit of a mature looking - teenager.

Albeit one that wears smashing blouses.

But all that changes when during the schools Ash Wednesday Disco (no, really) organized by the schools head, the frighteningly eyebrow-less Madame Stolz (Volkmann, best known for  the German absurd comedy series Klimbimand and as the voice of Marge Simpson in the German dub of The Simpsons) and her mousy yet strangely attractive assistant Miss Preis (Kinsky best known for Testament and Ruf der Wälder - no me neither), Magdalena suddenly falls to the ground soaked in sweat and foaming from the mouth whilst the sound of a single buzzing fly echoes annoyingly on the soundtrack as the school's token lesbian couple look on longingly licking their luscious lips.

Due to this being a cut - well totally butchered - version of the film this sexy subplot will never been seen again. 

Which is a pity if I'm honest.

Lesbe friends....homo we won't!

As suddenly as the convulsions/sexy tics started they completely subside leaving Magdalena wondering why she lying on the floor covered in sweat with her nipples protruding thru' her shirt whilst Madame Stolz and Miss Preis consider the fact that getting a bunch of teenagers drunk was maybe a wee bit of a bad idea.

And with that they pack Magdalena off to bed for the night.

It isn't too long tho' before the entire school is awakened by an hysterical, sweat soaked (and underpants-less) Magdalena screaming at the floors whilst trying to kill Madame Stolz pet pooch Enoch before attempting to stab Ms Preis with a butter knifeand finally collapsing (again) in an arse revealing heap on the floor leaving Stolz no alternative but to call her friend Dr. Berger (Actual actor-type Urtel best known for Bürgerkrieg in Russland - as in a TV movie version not the actual Russian Revolution, a German version of Othello and To Commit a Murder).

Berger isn't too concerned tho' and explains that "Sweaty arse revealing psychotic episodes can happen to almost anyone!" before giving her a sedative and heading back home to enjoy a shifty wank whilst dreaming of the poor girls glistening bum crack.

The next morning an oblivious Magdalena has no recollection of her freaky frolics the previous evening so is fairly surprised when Madame Stolz explains what has happened.

Oh and finally tells her the news about her granddad at the same time obviously.

Two birds and all that.

With Berger in tow, Magdalena prepares to leave for her granddad's funeral but at last minute she shouts "Fuck off!" to everyone and bounds over the school wall disappearing into the trees only to surface later that night when she accepts a lift from a long-haired lout who, when she falls asleep, drives off into the woods and attempts to rape her. 

This culminates in the guy getting his wanking arm broken in several places whilst Magdalena is later found by the police and taken back to school where the evil spirit within her takes the form of a black cat and starts throwing old boxes, furniture and wine bottles around in the attic whilst Magdalena writhes about naked in her sleep. 

The noise of her arse skidding across the bedroom carpet alerts Ms Preis that something is wrong so, whilst Madame Stolz tries to catch the cat vandal, she goes to comfort Magdalena only to be confronted by the Satanic schoolie bouncing on the bed shouting "I wanna fuck you dirty whores! Put it in me! Put it in me!"

Which is nice.

Luckily Dr Berger is hanging about in the lobby so he quickly gives her another sedative in the hope that this time it'll work.

Ms Preis tho' has other ideas and calls on the friendly neighbourhood priest Father Jess Conrad (Suspiria's Prof. Milius himself, Schündler adding some much needed cult film cred to the proceedings) to have a wee chat with Magdalena regarding her bizarre behaviour.

Luckily he's known her since she sang in the church choir as a little girl so is more than happy to help and to this end invites Magdalena, Ms Preis and Madame Stolz to the church for tea and biscuits.

But not of the soggy variety obviously.

Well not yet.

Things don't go quite to plan tho' as no sooner has Magdalena stepped out of the taxi when she starts accusing Conrad of being a dirty nun fucker whilst demanding that she takes communion "not in my mouth but in my pussy."

Interestingly Conrad at no point denies fucking nuns but does draw the line at the communion suggestion which goes to show that he's a man of integrity that can be trusted.

And to prove this he locks Magdalena up in his office and gets on with his churchy business giving her ample time to piss on his sofa, tear a Bible in two, same thru' a door and head over to the cemetery in order to have a chat with her dead - and buried - granddad.

As is now the norm when she finally regains her senses Magdalena has no recollection of what's just happened and with the movie lurching drunkenly toward its climax Preis, Stolz and Berger have no alternative than to turn to the modern day science of Electroencephalography (or EEG as we laymen call it).

Conrad begrudgingly agrees but only if he can join in and wave a Bible about occasionally. 

Oh and fuck a - dirty - nun.

Probably.

Nice and kneesy does it....

I reckon that I should point out that between all the swearing and sweaty snatch shots the film keeps cutting back to Kommissar Snatch and Inspektor Flatley questioning a fuzzy haired tramp caught at the scene of the crime but this subplot is a wee bit shit so I wasn't really paying that much attention.

Saying that tho' these bits are worth it just for Helena Rosenkranz's fantastic fashions.

Oh and the bit where Mrs. Baumer's hunky son Brian gives chase to the tramp.

Comedy gold. 

 

The lights are on.

With this in mind (as in the science stuff not the tramp chasing obviously) Magdalena is taken to see the famed brain boffin Professor Peter Falk (German dubbing legend and voice of Sherlock Hemlock in the German version of Sesame Street, Bruhns) who alongside his studly young assistant Dr. Stone (Hinz - Uncle Quentin himself from the 70s TeeVee version of Enid Blyton's The Famous Five) promise to find out why she's so mental and hopefully cure her so she can meet a nice man and get married.

Cue loads of footage of Magdalena with a colander on her head intercut with eye gouging scenes of Magdalena and Stone riding horses, bicycling in the countryside and playing ping pong as the pair gaze longingly at each other.

Because there's absolutely nothing unethical about a 30 something doctor lusting over a 17 year old mental school girl is there?

Luckily the director thought that all this lovey-dovey shite and keep fit stuff would be likely to induce a coma in anyone (left) watching so occasionally he has Magdalena go shopping with Falk's nurse Shirley (Peters) and a random old woman who lives in the house with them (Treutler).

Everything seems to be going well with Magdalena keeping her clothes on and not swearing at anybody but all that changes when late one night the evil spirit returns, forcing Magdalena to sneak out to the local pub, strip naked and seduce a groom to be and his best man (a great cameo from Chas and Dave, possibly) before forcing them to fight to the death for a chance to shag her before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

OK in a really choppy dissolve.

Tickler.

 

Next up it's the turn of Dr. Stone to feel the spirits wrath as Magdalena begins to rub his cock thru' his action slacks whilst promising to let him touch her thigh before shouting rape whenever he even looks at her and finally announcing that she will only have sex with him if he kills Professor Falk. 

And with that proclamation she slinks off to her room and strips naked so as to make it easier for the spirit to shag her up the bum....

 

What your mum really gets up to on Bingo Night.

Will Stone fall completely under Magdalena's spell and kill his boss?

Will the crucifixion sub-plot ever make any sense?

Will science or religion prevail?

Will the movie pull out all the stops for an amazing and terrifying Exorcist style climax or will Magdalena - after a stern talking to - just cough up a toy snake that Stone gingerly steps on?

Go on, guess.

I love it when people display their kids artwork.

What can you say about smut peddler extraordinaire Walter Boos frankly threadbare excursion into the supernatural other than it's exactly the wrong kind of movie you want to be caught watching in a hotel room alone?

Seriously, the thought of someone breaking in and finding me viewing this abomination was way more terrifying than the thought of being murdered in my bed as at least that way I wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of facing my loved ones later.

It is bloody enjoyable tho'.

With its whore-baiting, hat wearing, nappy crucifying opening the movie hits the ground running and whilst Karl Walter Diess being dubbed by trailer voice-over legend Richardson Green (or was it Donald Leroy LaFontaine? I can't be arsed checking) not so much breaks the fourth wall rather it beats it into submission before pissing on its shoes, the film as a whole ticks all the right exploitation boxes.

Violent murder?

Check.

Inadvisable attempts at portraying youth culture?

Check.

Saucy virgin heroine in clothes a size too small?

Check.

Gratuitous lesbian teasings?

Check.

Overweight, mustachioed Germans?

You get the idea.

It's just a pity then that around the 35 minute mark the whole film grinds to a halt as you realise that other than the thrill of hearing Dagmar Hedrich swear whilst flashing her well kept fanny (and occasionally her - admittedly peachy - arse) at everyone the film has literally fuck all else to offer.

But scarily enough that's part of its charm.

 

Font.

You know it's shit, you assume that the cast and crew know it's shit but fair play to 'em they carried on regardless so the least you can do is give them and hour and 14 minutes of your time.

Especially if the alternative is The Great Christmas Pottery Takedown on Channel 4 whilst knocking back a fifth glass of Pinot noir and third bag of prawn cocktail Skips.

So damning with faint praise then?

Well it is what I do best.