bark at the moon.

 

 

So it's the final day of the whole 31 Days of Horror thing, for those who've been reading along I salute you (all 3 of you) and hope you've had as much fun revisiting these classics as I have.

Anyway before this turns into a real film blog let's continue to the number 1 (or 31 if you prefer) spot by revisiting possibly THE second greatest zombie movie of all time* in part because the kids have been getting into horror movies in a big way of late so I wanted to make sure they only watched the best and it's with that in mind that I thought I'd reanimated this review for others who'd never seen it.

And if you are one of those unlucky few, for fucks sake where have you all been?

And by the way if you do (as you should) love this movie as I do, why not express that love by buying one of these fantastic Burial Ground T-shirts available here or even here.

End of plug.

As a curious aside before we begin I thought I'd just add that during one of our many chats regarding this classic long-time reader Mr Paul from The Canada (yes you can) discovered that apparently, (according to this ropey old VHS release anyway), the movie is actually set in Scotland.

Obviously there just happens to be a bunch of Italians and Etruscan Zombie monks kicking about.

But, he goes on to add, if that was the case, I'm pretty sure the most famous line would be "Ma, this rag totally stinks of pish".

Indeed.

Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror (AKA The Nihgts of Terror, Le Notti del Terrore, Die Ruckkehr Der Zombies - 1981)
Dir: Andrea Bianchi.
Cast: Peter Bark, Mariangela Giordano, Karin Well, Anna Valente, Simone Mattioli and Raimondo Barbieri.

"No, don't eat me. I'm your friend!"

Our tale of terror opens in a damp, dark cave - and surprisingly that isn’t a euphemism for Karin Well - where we join Santa's piss stained, fish-bearded and buggery obsessed brother examining some spooky cave drawings.

Obviously excited about this discovery he begins to bang on the walls whilst doing a - fairly erotic in the circumstances - drunk dance which unfortunately for him (but not for us) has awoken the dead that reside in the cave.

Dead that are hungry for human flesh.

And a wee bit of old man arse probably.

"Aye son, mah lottery numbers have

come up! oh no...ahv pished mah sel'."

Thru' the magic of cack handed editing it's suddenly the next morning where a motley band of visitors (three sexy young couples and a pot bellied dwarf  - sorry, small boy, my mistake) have arrived at the house and are looking forward to a weekend break in the country and catching up with their old pal Professor Ayres (the aforementioned bearded Barbieri).

Rocking up at the front door like some nightmare vision in Bri-Nylon our merry band are informed by the (fairly attractive in a kinda pound shop way) maid that the professor is out exploring and may be gone some time so they should make themselves at home.

Which in this case is an excuse for a quick bout of some hot sweaty sex-based shenanigans in the guest bedrooms.

Rushing to their rooms to unpack, undress and start shagging, poor little Michael (the legend that is Peter Bark looking for all the world like the result of an unholy pairing of Kevin Spacey and a warty testicle) is left alone in the downstairs lobby with only his Rubik Cube and Eye-Spy book of European arses for company.

Your mum and dad. Having sex.

In your bed.

After amusing himself for a few minutes playing with the hat stand and creepily chasing the maid, Michael decides to creep in on his mother and her mightily mustachioed lover in order to pick up a few sex tips.

We've all done it.

None too surprisingly the sight of a bowl headed, poppy eyed freak gazing lustfully from behind the sideboard does nothing for her growing passion so she throws a shoe at him screaming "Get out!".

As we will learn later, Michael has a wee thing for his dear mum and doesn't like her hanging around with perm haired, tanned Lothario's, no matter how tight their arses look whilst thrusting up and down on his mummy.

Fair enough.

Insert cock here.

After a morning of gin soaked sexiness and rampant STD's the couples settle down to some top grub whilst discussing the Professor's paper on the magical practices of the ancient Etruscans (ah, you studied that too eh?) before deciding to frolic round the lush gardens.

Michael on the other hand has decided to just sit and stare at his mums breasts.

Saying that tho' if my mums were half as bouncy I'd do the same.

But I digress.

Anyway, just in case you're wondering the frolicking in question mainly consists of sexy photography, breast fondling and general fanny flashing sauciness.

Fun for them maybe, but not for the viewer, unless you find the idea of middle aged Italian couples in nasty 70's fashion dry-humping to a sub Confessions score attractive.

Your maw's takin' the divorce well.

Luckily tho' just when you think the movie is going to descend into a soft core Euro-porn extravaganza, the dead do indeed start to rise from beneath the rosebushes and - remarkably for rotting centuries old Etruscans - manage to cut off any access to the cars, run the really annoying Janet (not the same of from Zombie Lake mind) into a handy bear trap, kill the non mustachioed man with a house brick and trap the shaky, shot to fuck survivors in the house.

And all within about twelve minutes, which isn't bad for a group of shite-covered tramps.

A shite moothed zombie

Etruscan yesterday.

The group are left with a big decision to make....do they:

A. Board up the house, arm themselves, find a safe vantage point (i.e. the attic) and defend it till help comes.

or


B. Argue among themselves, wandering off in a huff occasionally (alone).


Unbelievably Mr. mustache decides it would be best to board the house up! Everyone looks at him, then each other, then back at him (except Michael who's still staring at his mums breasts) and then start arguing.

"Hmmmm....

dirty pillows..."

One of the ladies (who cares which, they're all annoying) strops off and almost instantly gets killed by a knife wielding carnie zombie (unusual but quite nice).

Scarily he's not even the brightest one, I mean these zombies can actually plan attacks, use weapons and climb walls!

This skill is particularly useful when attacking the (still fairly hot) maid whom the undead horde manage to pin thru' an upstairs window and behead with a large scythe, which was unexpected to say the least.

Zombie Flesh Eaters? - Never heard of her.

Whilst all this is going on, Lothario man decides that the best course of action is to let the zombies into the house whilst the survivors hide in the pantry (do houses still have pantries?) sobbing like babies.

Surprisingly all the survivors think this is a great plan, except Michael that is who has an even  better idea.

You see he reckons now would be the best time to try and shag his mum.

Tom Cruise: the high waisted years.

Not knowing anything about shagging mums (well, not my own anyway) I'm quite sure (tho' I could be mistaken) that grabbing her breasts and trying to stick your tongue in her mouth isn't the way to go about it.

Unluckily for Michael this is just the smooth move he uses on her.

Unsurprisingly his mum freaks out a wee bit and throws another shoe at him screaming "Get out!" (it's becoming a habit) and Michael waddles off, only stopping to get bitten by a zombie.

Poor boy.

The survivors are faced with another difficult choice:

A. Run in the direction of the cars and drive away.

or

B. Run past the cars into the woods blindly waving your arms about going "AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!"

Which choice will they make?

Will they drive to safety or encounter a monastery full of black cloaked zombies?

Will Michael return from the grave to be met by his terrified mother or will she try to breast feed him in the most uncomfortable scene ever filmed?

The answer may be yes to the last one by the way.

Rush out and buy Burial Ground (or The Zombie Dead as the cheapo Vipco release calls it) and find out.

A bloody (not shitey) mooth

earlier today.

Seriously what can I say about Burial Ground that hasn't already been said before?

And sometimes by people that have actually seen it.

I mean let's be honest here, Burial Ground is utter shite from start to finish but for all it's faults (including the abysmal acting, paper thin characters, inept plotting, joke shop zombies, misspelled captions etc.) it's possibly one of the most entertaining films ever made, mostly down to Peter Bark's portrayal of the freaky mummy fixated Michael.

I mean whoever thought a 25 year old pot-bellied dwarf in a wig and nipple high trousers would make a convincing 12 year old deserves a medal for the sheer audacity of suggesting it.

He wanders around the film like some scary clockwork Dario Argento doll, either staring at his mums breasts or just staring into camera.

For what seems like hours at a time.

But his moment of triumph comes in the films closing moments; surrounded by the undead and with no means of escape the zombie Michael is welcomed by his open bloused mum to have some "mother's milk..."

Genius?

Probably not.

Exploitative bad taste?

Quite possibly.

But it does give it the edge over 28 Years Later with it's wannabe, Daily Mail baiting Jimmy Savile Power Rangers mash-up.

Plus Peter Bark's wig is way better.

Caption.

There are some (very snooty) reviewers who actuall blame this film for the death of the Italian zombie genre and to those that do I have only one thing to say.

You're very wrong.

And Zombie 5: Killing Birds.

Hang on, that's two things.

To be honest I really don't have the words to adequately sum up the sheer unadulterated genius that is Burial Ground and to be fair you won't either when you finally brave The Nights of Terror.

Because you know you want to.

Cinematic gold.

*This is the best obviously.

burqa and hair (raising).

Day 29 of 31 days of horror and it's a look back at a classic.

Yes, occasionally I do watch good films.

It's a pity then that no fucker ever pays attention when I rave about them.

But not this time.

You've had 18 (!) years to catch up with this so if you haven't seen it already I'm giving you till then end of the week.

Go on, buy it now.

You'll thank me in the morning.

Zibahkhana (AKA Slaughterhouse, Hell's Ground. 2007)
Dir: Omar Ali Khan.
Cast: Kunwar Ali Roshan, Rooshanie Ejaz, Rubya Chaudhry, Haider Raza, Osman Khalid Butt, Najma Malik, Sultan Billa, Salim Meraj and Rehan.

You are on the road to Hell, my children.
On the road to Hell!

Newsflash!

Pakistan's biggest dance festival is about to start and wouldn't you know it, it's gonna be taking place on a school night!

Isn't it always the way?

But if you think that's going to stop our motley band of Islamabad based teens having a wild night of music, mental dancing and muddy boots then you've got another thing coming.

Living, breathing Bratz doll Roxy (big haired bad girl Chaudhry) has it all planned, her buddies are going to sneak away in a colourful van and tell their respective parents that they're studying at each others houses.

What could possibly go wrong?

Accompanying her to the groove-some (as opposed to gruesome) fest are drugged up horror geek Vicky (Roshan), binman's son Simon (the Pakistani Daniel Radcliffe Raza) and the sweetly sexy to a point of almost being librarian-esque (as only good girls can be) Ayesha (Ejaz) alongside designated driver and token older guy OJ (Butt).

So, who's your cash on surviving to the final reel then?

Ejaz: scrumptious.

After a few coffees (and an encounter with some scarily saucy transvestite hookers) our merry band head off toward their dance-tastic destination, stopping only to visit Deewana's world famous tea shop.

What do you mean you've never heard of it?

A sign of spooky things to come occurs when Vicky is convinced that the Bruce Willis vested Deewana is actually the cult actor and star of the utterly fantastic The Living Corpse (AKA Dracula in Pakistan) Rehan, although the creepily hairy backed tea legend angrily denies this.

You see he's more interested in why such good Muslim kids aren't preparing for evening prayer.

Freaked out by all this talk of praying and curses our heroes grab some tea and buns before making their excuses and leaving.

"Spice Girls number one for Christmas? MONSTA!"

Could things get any worse?

Well after all that tea and cake poor Vicky seems to have developed a dodgy tummy and begs his buds to pull over so he can go vomit in a lake (as one would) but even before he's managed to wipe away the shame from the corners of his mouth he's attacked and bitten by a crazed, green skinned tramp.

Who also steals his stash.

Thieving undead bastard.

Simon, being the heroic type, offers to go search for the drugs (and the scary knee biting pikey) whilst Vicky sits huddled in a corner sweating and rubbing his leg in the hope of getting some female attention.

Bless.

Who's sari now?

Don't get too concerned tho' because Simon soon returns with the drugs (and in one piece) and, after a wee bit of shall we shan't we? the gang decide it's probably for the best if they just carry on toward the festival and hope one of the first aiders has a plaster and a junior aspirin for Vicky victim when they get there.

This is actually surprisingly sensible and everything would have turned out fine if OJ hadn't taken a wrong turn when hurriedly leaving Deewana's tea shop.

Wouldn't you know it the gang end up lost.

In the woods.

Surrounded by the living dead.

There's only one course of action left to our heroes and that's to sit in the van and scream like wee girls as the zombies excitedly devour the contents of an abattoir bin next to the road.

Luckily OJ remembers that they're in a van not a shed, and drives away before the zombies can attack, or at the very least scratch the paintwork.

What a guy.

After driving what seems for hours and needing something to break the monotony of Vicky's vomiting and the girls screaming, the - by this point not so - merry band pull over at a big tent in the middle of nowhere in the hope of getting directions to the festival and maybe a few bottles of Lucozade to keep them going.

Have they never seen Bio-Zombie?

Obviously not, nor the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre by the looks of things seeing as they happily offer a lift to a mad as a bag of spanners bearded type named Bill Baley (Meraj, being scarily more like Bill Moseley than Moseley himself) who, after squatting on the floor of the van and demanding water starts shouting "I will drink the blood from your veins!" before pulling a severed head out of his man-bag.

Reacting with a mix of utter pant wetting terror and a wee bit of mild embarrassment the group scream at the horrible hobo for a while before kicking him out the van and running him down like a dog.

Which is a little extreme methinks.

"Laugh now!"

Waiting till the screaming has died down Ayesha suggests that maybe, just maybe they should give the festival a miss a head home.

Roxy (who it must be said has spent about three days troweling on her make-up in preparation for the event) is adamant that the show must go on, only changing her mind when she accidentally sits on the severed head left on the seat by the late lamented Baley.

It seems obvious to me that he only left it there because it too wanted to attend the music fest but had no body to go with.

Sorry.

Like a whippet up a particularly greasy drainpipe Roxy jumps out of the van and legs it into the woods whilst everyone else starts screaming again.

The screaming continues for about ten minutes, with everyone in the van desperately trying to be considerably louder than their pals.

Unfortunately when the screaming finally stops and the merry band almost collapse thru' lack of oxygen no-one has the faintest idea where Roxy has gone.

Ayesha and Simon, being the clean living heroic types give chase.

OJ volunteers to sit in the van with a considerably greener and more zombie-like by the minute Vicky in case they need to make a quick getaway.

What a guy!

"Oooh....who fancies a wee
bit a mooth shite-in?"

Stumbling blindly thru' the woods, our dynamic duo come across a ramshackle house and, hoping to get help bang on the doors whilst, yes, screaming.

After a few minutes of banging and screaming (and reckoning that their day can't get any worse) Simon and Ayesha slowly enter the house hoping to find a nice old lady with a phone that they can use.

It comes as no surprise to us (but a bloody big shock to the two friends) when stomping out of the kitchen comes a giant, burqa-wearing beast of a bloke brandishing a huge spiked ball on a chain.

A wee bit of a chase ensues culminating with poor Simon getting spiked in the face.

And yes, before you say anything I am aware (as is Ayesha, who seems to find this the most shocking thing so far) that men don't usually wear burqa's.

But I for one wouldn't say anything to him about it.

Meow. Twice.

Meanwhile Roxy, all messy hair, smudged make-up and tearful of cheek (but still nowhere near as hot as Ayesha - which I really shouldn't dwell on seeing as Ms. Ejaz reads this blog) has been found by a sweet old lady who lives in a tent just up the road from all the carnage.

And not only that but this old dear has tea and toast!

As a minus point tho' she does have her dead hubbies corpse in a cupboard and pictures of her two sons plastered around the walls.

One of whom seems to enjoy wearing a burqa....

No, it couldn't be...

Could it?

Taller than Freddie, sexier than Jason and
far easier to dress as than either one of them.
Raise your glass for the Burqa Baby!

From the deranged mind of Islamabad Ice cream shop magnate Omar Khan comes what is quite possibly the best lo-fi horror movie of the past 20 years if not the most fun ninety minutes I've spent with a teen killing mentalist for quite some time.

The surprising thing is that, on paper Hell's Ground should be little more than a run of the mill Texas Chainsaw rip off but it's kudos to Khan and his team that it's so much more than that, being at once an incredibly funny pastiche and an honest to goodness homage to the stalk and slash genre he obviously loves so much.

And just when you think it can't get any better cult movie king Rehan turns up.

From the pre-credit sequence onwards you know you're viewing something extra special and it's this love and understanding of the genres conventions that soaks (bloodily) thru' every single frame and every performance on show, the cast are uniformly fantastic, with special mention to the classically creepy Salim Meraj.

Honestly his performance is so convincing you can actually smell the urine and stale sweat thru' the teevee - God help you if you're watching in Blu-Ray.

And I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that the elfin Rooshanie Ejaz could quite possibly have stolen Bruce Campbell's crown (and heart) as the ultimate horror hero had she not retired from movies and gone on to be a science type bigwig.

If nothing else she looks much sexier than the big chinned one when drenched in blood.

Sorry Bruce.

Frankly essential viewing and an essential costume come Halloween.

Still no word of a sequel mind, even tho' I sent the film makers a top notch script featuring Burqa Baby battling an army of ancient Jinns.

Typical.

virgin spring.

Bizarrely most folk are familiar with this due to the trailer of the classic I Drink Your Blood, the film it was paired with on it's release.

As luck would have it tho' a few years back a friend felt the urge to send me a copy so I could finally watch it.

Well I say friend.

And I say sent it.

You can fill in the blanks.

I Eat Your Skin (AKA Zombies, Zombie Bloodbath, Voodoo Blood Bath, Caribbean Adventure. 1964 - released 1970).
Dir: Del Tenney.
Cast: William Joyce, Heather Hewitt, Betty Hyatt Linton, Dan Stapleton, Walter Coy, Robert Stanton, Vanoye Aikens, Matt King, Rebecca Oliver and Don Strawn and his Calypso Band.

"Oh boy. Mister Harris, I read some of your books and I only hope you're more original in person!"

Pulp paperback writer and all round misogynist arse Tom Harris (Joyce - as in the actor most famous for The Young Nurses not Nazi-loving Lord Haw-Haw) is busying himself by the pool at the famous Fontainbleu Hotel (in a comedown from featuring in Goldfinger), reciting chunks of his racy romance novels to an eager bunch of bikini-clad, damp panted housewives whilst simultaneously sticking his tongue in a married women.

Which is nice work if you can get it.

If possibly a wee bit dubious in these more enlightened times.

Fuck it let's be honest he comes across downright rapey.

Anyway as his words get more sexual and his fingers get stickier who should arrive but his literary agent and best bud' - the slightly predatory Duncan 'Donuts' Fairchild (one time only actor and producer Stapleton, channeling Glenn Shaddix with a drink in him whilst modeling Mr Ed's teeth) excitedly announcing that he's booked a private plane to taken them - and Duncan's wife Coral (Circus of The Stars choreographer Linton) - to the spookily named Voodoo Island in order to get ideas for a new book.

Given the choice between a weekend of sun, sand and voodoo-fearing virgins or a fucking good kicking off the (scarily older) husband of the woman he's fondling Tom goes for the former and quickly heads off to the airport pursued by the aforementioned husband who, in an 'hilarious' scene boots his still bikini clad wife up the arse.

Before dragging her back to their room and beating her obviously.

Ah violence against women for comedy effect how we miss you so.

"Oi missis....come back to me room so I can bite you!"

As they fly out to the island there's just enough time for Duncan to fill us in (but not in that way) on some important plot points.

It seems that one of his bridge buddies - Lord Chumbley-Warner - has actually just inherited the island and that the inhabitants are ardent practitioners of the black arts (the name probably gave that away tho'), not only that but the island is also home to every imaginable species of poisonous snake, which is why a reclusive scientist, Dr. Biladeau (Stanton in his only role) lives their in an attempt to come up with a cure for mansplaining using their venom.

But obviously not the Tom Hardy Venom on account of it being even shitter than this.

Which takes a lot.

The thing that really peaks Tom's interest tho' is the fact that the whole of the island’s fishing fleet perished in a recent hurricane leaving its population ratio at five to one in favor of women.

And with that he orders the pilot to put his foot down as he carefully checks his cock for blemishes.

Unfortunately Enrico the pilot forgot to fill the petrol tank before they left and the plane is now dangerously low on fuel, the only option left to the travelers is to let Tom drive because as we all know, sexist arses are much better at landing planes than qualified pilots.

Especially Hispanic ones.

I mean he could be an illegal.

Anyway upon making a perfect beach landing, Tom orders everyone to stay put whilst he goes to look for something - anything - to forcibly stick his engorged member into....I mean look for help so sets off into the jungle soon coming across (not in that way, well not yet) the scientists beautiful blonde daughter Jeannie (former Miss Vermont 1957 and  'Miss America' contestant Hewitt) skinny dipping in a pond.

Why am I not surprised?

Oh yes, there's also a machete-wielding zombie with conjunctivitis spying on her from the bushes but let's be honest here we can kinda guess who she's in more danger from.

Eye son.

Tom bravely waves his cock in the air to get her attention and when this fails he jumps in the water to swim after her only to pop up the other side with her gone and the zombie baring down on him so our hero does what any sexual predator would do when faced with another man with his chopper in his hands and legs it into the trees where he soon bumps into one of the islands few surviving fishermen who fills him in on the whole virgin sacrifice/voodoo/zombie shtick before getting beheaded by the eye man.

Which is nice.

Just as the undead fiend is about to stick it in Tom he's scared away by the arrival of the cast of It Ain't Half Hot Mum in a jeep.

No my mistake, it's actually Lord Chumbley-Warner's pal and island governor type bloke Charles 'Wes' Bentley (ex-Star Trek doctor, McCoy) and his merry band of armed guards.

Less Dad's Army, more dead smarmy.

Yes I know that was shit but if the script writer can't be arsed why should i?

Being a stand-up bloke Bentley takes Tom back to the plane before ordering a group of natives to secure it in the carpark and then inviting everyone back to his villa he shares with Dr. Biladeau - but not in that way - for cake and crisps.

And pop.

Getting changed for dinner Tom is surprised to find the blonde he saw earlier playing the piano in the dining room and decides to sneakily watch her play - from a position where he can look down her top obviously - before sleazily approaching her and introducing himself.

There's something to be said about approaching random girls and rubbing yourself against them whilst plying them with booze seeing as Jeannie seems well up for it and giggles flirtily as Tom refills her glass.

Again and again.

Luckily for us her dad turns up and they all sit down for dinner.

Tho' by the look in Tom's eyes chicken isn't the only white meat on the menu.

Hewitt - pigs in a blanket.

As is the way with dinner parties the chat soon turns to voodoo (again) and Dr.
Billedeau explains that not only is it true that the islanders all practice witchcraft but they also believe that blonde virgins make the best human sacrifices,  Bentley laughs to himself as he lights another fag whilst Jeannie just sits and gazes into Tom's eyes oblivious to the fact that she's the only blonde virgin in the room.

His head full of booze and feeling a pure steamer coming on Tom invites  Jeannie for a moonlight walk in the woods, where it must be said her screams as he forces himself on/in her will be less likely to be heard, and she heartily agrees.

Unfortunately any hope Tom has of sticking it in the doctor's daughter are ruined when the pair are attacked by a group of paper mache faced zombies who attempt to drag Jeannie off into the jungle.

Luckily there's a handy Tiki torch nearby and knowing it to be a symbol of the mainstream misogynistic man movement Tom uses it to beat off the undead horde.

Unlike the undead beating off you'd find here.

Insert cock here.

Returning to the villa,  Jeannie is taken to bed by Coral (look they have to give her something to do other than fawn over Tom behind her hubbies back like your gran over the milkman when she's drunk) whilst Tom and Bentley drink more booze and discuss the evenings events.

As the vodka's flow Bentley begins to realise that the young blonde virgin the tribe want to sacrifice to cure the illness affecting them could in fact be Jeannie so it'd probably be a good idea if they could get her off the island as soon as but Tom has another plan and climbs up the wall to her bedroom in order to have sex with her and therefore save her life.

What a stand up guy.

And before you ask the answer is no, Jeannie doesn't have a say in the matter.

Tho' why would she?

She's just a girl.

"Hello I'm the blind man!"

But even before Tom's cock is dry the local tribe and their mysterious leader are plotting to kidnap Jeannie and stick something all together more dangerous - and far less noxious smelling in her....

Will Tom and his pals save the day?

What is Dr. Biladeau really up to in his secret lab?

Why the fuck is Coral actually there?

And most importantly why does Dan Stapleton have the shapeliest figure in the whole movie?

Seriously when he comes out in his body hugging teeny tiny shorts you'll be stunned at how smooth and long his legs are.

Whilst his craptastic monster romp The Horror of Party Beach was picked up for distribution even before the film was dry director/producer/binman Del Tenney's I Eat Your Skin was left languishing on the shelf for years before being dragged kicking and screaming onto the screens in a double bill with the frankly fantastic Lynn Lowry starrer I Drink Your Blood.

And it's really not difficult to realise why.

Everything about the production screams poverty row - from the am dram shouty non-acting of the cast to the threadbare special effects that consist of zombies with wet tissue paper glued to their faces and an massive island explosion consisting of a paper mache mountain set fire to in a bath via a Caribbean tribe descended from slaves that is made up of 95% white extras and direction that can only be described as leisurely it's a film that defies both logic and sensibility, transcending 'so bad it's good' to become just bad.

Luckily (for it) it's so screamingly misogynistic as to blank everything else but that fact from your mind as you watch it.

Nothing else seems to matter the longer William Joyce is on screen, from his casual arse-slapping to random drink-spiking it's like watching a walking talking ball of horny testosterone filled woman hating rage dominating the screen, seriously as soon as the movie finished I actually went online to check if Joyce had ever been arrested for crimes against women in the years after the movie as so convincing was his utter contempt for ladies.

Either that or he was hiding something.

And probably not a body in a barn.

Fuck or fight? I'm too confused!

On the plus side Lon E. Norman's jazz fused score is a pleasant distraction from the utter pap onscreen which means you can at least close your eyes and try to think of something a wee bit more enjoyable, tho' be warned I tried this but then got scared that William Joyce (or his ghost) would sneak up on me and attempt to fuck me.

He didn't but that's not the point.

Fuck it I need a shower now.

warts of the world.

Day 26 of the whole 31 days of the 'orrah thing and it's time for a good old cuppa Joe....

Porno Holocaust (AKA Insel der Zombies, Orgasmo Nero II 1981)
Dir: Joe D'amato.
Cast: George Eastman, Mark Shannon, Dirce Funari, Annj Goren and Lucia Ramirez.

Crayola Holocaust more like.

Warty scrotumed sea fairing sex god Captain Darren O'Day (the manly Mark Shannon) has been hired by the Dominican government to ferry a team of scientists to a remote tropical island that once served as a nuclear test site in the 1950's.

It seems that in the intervening years strange stories have surfaced regarding bizarre mutations that now live on the island and the aforementioned scientific team - led by Dr. Lemoine Snickett (mustachioed and man breasted D'Amato regular Eastman) the physicist behind the original tests - has been sent to investigate.

As is the way in porn/horror hybrids, Lemoine's team consists of three fairly sexy (in a kinda kebab shop queue way), late 70's breasted nympho's and a dispensable old bloke with bad hair called Professor Keller

And before you ask I've absolutely no idea who plays him as he's not listed on the credits.

Yup his performance is that good.

But enough of the old men what about the babes you mentioned I hear you cry.

Well there's the granite faced Doctor Annie Darmon (former Egyptian immortal Ramirez) who scarily fancies the captain, the button nosed and boy-haired lesbian Countess Dorcin de Saint Jacques (Goren, best known - by me anyway - for her stand out performance as Cristina the maid in Antonio D'Agostino's Eva Man) and finally Doctor Simone Keller (Funari best known for getting digit diddled by Laura Gemser in Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals), Professor Keller's horse-like wife and plaything of the Countess.

Something for everyone I'm sure you'll agree.

What was this film called again?

Before setting off to the island tho' there's just enough time for some nasty shagging.

Annie and O'Day head off into the countryside for some lumpy loving whilst the Countess pays a pair of local inbreds - and I really do mean local - D'Amato allegedly payed two men he met in the street $25 to have sex with Goren on film - for an impromptu biology lesson.

This turns out to be the films most disturbing scene as the tombstone toothed twosomes attempts to stay aroused are thwarted by the omnipresent camera crew as Goren stares dead-eyed into the middle distance obviously annoyed that her career has come to tossing off strangers in the back room of a pub.

At this point I suggest a cold shower before continuing.

And it's probably best to ring your mum seeing as you now realize what she had to go thru' to be able to afford all the Christmas presents you got as a kid.

Just saying.

"Touch my warty scrotum....yesch!"

After all this nasty shagging everyone decides that it'd be a good idea to actually go to the island and start work (oh and start the films plot running good and proper) but all hope of this is dashed when, upon arrival, the kinky Countess and saucy Simone decide it'd be more interesting to indulge 'the sex' (again) rather than indulge in any scientific research.

Interesting to them perhaps but by this point not to the viewer ho by now is almost certainly suffering from post - coital - traumatic stress disorder.

Or at the very least an aversion to undercooked sausage.

Meanwhile the Captain and Annie - not wanting to be left out - also rush off into the trees in order to find a secluded spot for a wee game of hide the warty wand, giving us a change to gaze in awe at Shannon's fantastically scary cum face in glorious wide screen.

"Dad! Mom and Uncle Peter are playing Twister again!"

Realizing that most viewers will have never seen a real woman and most likely be hunched over their TeeVee's violently manipulating their members, the thoughtful Simone - after her luscious lesbo licking session - returns to the boat and in an act of solidarity with the audience offers her hubbie a swift hand shandy.

Well would you say no?

Probably not but I would insist she wear gloves.

After a few minutes in the company of mother fist and her five beautiful daughters and being a cleanliness obsessed kinda guy (see? it's not just me), Professor Keller wanders off to give his unusually red and slightly swollen helmet a good scrub at the waters edge.

Tho' to be honest if I were him I'd be using bleach.

And then I'd pour it into my eyes just in case there's a chance of Mark Shannon thrusting his crusty cock at the screen again.

Luckily for my sight - and sanity - just when you've given up hope of anything truly horrifying happening a freakily deformed, rag wrapped tramp (sorry...zombie) arrives and murders the professor.

Finally someone died!

"I'm not a real welder!"

Hearing a muffled cry in the distance, a concerned Simone pops out of her tent - and her nightie - in order to look for her husband, totally  failing to notice that the terrifying tramp is slowly advancing toward her.

Forcing the terrified (well, I say terrified but to be honest by this point she just looks bored or stoned) Simone to her knees the tramp begins to choke her to death with his comedy rubber zombie cock.

Which you have to admit is a fairly unique way to go in a zombie movie.

"Zombie cock in mah mooth!"...Look if they can't make a fucking effort why should I?

Realizing that no-one has seen or heard anything from Keller or Simone for a couple of hours, Captain Cock-Rot, Lemoine (relax girls, Eastman stays fully clothed) and the Countess (who at this point looks like she's lost the will to live) decide to mount a search party (not literally but with this movie it wouldn't surprise me).

No sooner have they left the relative safety of base camp (it's a fairly short movie, it just seems to last forever) that our merry band come across (again, not literally) not only poor Keller face down in a pool with his penis out but also a naked and spunk encrusted (not to mention very dead) Simone perched against a tree.

Our heroic Captain comes to the conclusion that there must be another person on the island with them....either that or a pissed off lobster with a hard on.

Mark Shannon impressed the rest of the cast
by allowing them to use his largest genital wart as a stool between scenes.

Whilst all this chat is going on (and trust me, it's a blessed relief from all the ugly sex) our zombie pal has decided that the sexy shenanigans have gone on for far too long and has decided to kill off the remaining (but more importantly unattractive) cast members as quickly as possible.

That's Mr. Eastman screwed then.

When he finally catches up with Annie (who stumbles on a twig and bruises her ankle whilst trying to escape, poor lamb) he bonks her on the head, binds her hands and carries her off to his lair.

But why? you may ask, I mean it's not like he can choose to be picky about who he shags to death, seeing as he's dressed in rags with a face like a half chewed caramel, so they're must be another reason.

Plot development in a Joe D'Amato movie?

Scary or what?

Here come the Belgians!

Leaving her lying against his favourite rock, Mr. Zombie wanders off to kill an investigative reporter who just happens to have turned up on the island unannounced (D'Amato himself, yes it's that cheap) leaving Annie enough time to have a nosy around his groovy bachelor pad where she finds an old rucksack (hidden behind a pile of old copies of Razzle magazines) that will no doubt contain information about the zombie and an abundance of useless backstory.

Excitedly she empties the contents of the aforementioned sack onto the dusty cave floor.

A rucksack like the one featured in the movie.

Leafing thru' the pile of tatty woman's clothes and various baby items Annie discovers a battered old diary with 'this book belongs to Antoine Demadura - do not read' scrawled on the inside cover.

Being a typical woman tho' Annie settles down ready to get all the gossip.

 Eastman: Sweaty manbreasts.

Meanwhile back at the beach, Captain O'Day is slightly upset by the fact that not only has his entire crew been murdered and his squeeze gone missing but his wee boat has vanished too.

Stomping about manfully and splitting coconuts with his buttocks he has no alternative but to have sex with the Countess to cheer himself up.

Annie on the other hand hasn't had sex for at least twenty minutes as she's far too busy reading how poor local farmer Demadura, his wife and ickle baby had been accidentally left on the island prior to the nuclear tests.

The death of his wife and child (coupled with the radiation obviously) mutated and regressed the poor fella to a point where only his most basic animal desires survived.

Which is a wee bit like your dad after a few beers if you're honest.

Luckily Annie has been spared the fate of her colleagues tho' because in a strange quirk of fate only found in movies such as this, she bares an uncanny resemblance to Demadura's dead wife.

As if wishing to push this point even further (obviously for those members of the audience who find the lead actress looking at a photo of herself in a different outfit whilst exclaiming "Oooh...I look like his dead wife!" too difficult to understand) Demandura turns up with his scabby head cleaned, the tufts of hair in his ears combed and clutching a bunch of flowers for Annie.

Awwww....what a sweetie!

Gently kissing his new love goodbye (well more like dribbles on her if I'm honest) he leaves the cave to look for the Countess.

Is he going to invite her back to the cave too maybe to explain that the entire killing spree was a misunderstanding?

No, when he finds her Demadura knocks her unconscious and proceeds to shag her to death over a big bit of driftwood.

Oh well. It was nice whilst it lasted.

The binmen strike again....

The Captain, by now the only survivor and obviously gagging for 'the sex', reckons it's about time he went to search for Annie.

Within a matter of minutes he's found Demadura's cave, untied her hands and dragged her off to the reporters boat for a quick getaway and a good grope.

Just think of the paycheck hen...."

Just as our heroes approach the shoreline and a chance of freedom, Demadura pops out of the undergrowth and makes a move toward Annie but O'Day shoots him with his handy speargun, only to see our zombie sex pest pluck the projectile from his body and move menacingly towards the captain, his cock swaying in the sea breeze.

Just as he lunges in for the kill Annie (remembering that she's still in the movie) calls out "No, Demadura! No!" whilst looking on in an uninterested manner causing his arm to fall off.

No, really.

Howling with pain (or trapped wind) as the memories of his previous life come flooding back to him Demadura collapses onto the golden sands and dies leaving Annie and the Captain run hand in hand to the boat, cast off from shore and no doubt have a big shag to celebrate.

Joe D'Amato's companion piece to his sexy horror opus, Erotic Nights of the Living Dead, is more sex film than shocker, discarding the haunting voodoo menace of that movie for an atomic monster with a huge cock and a thing for colourful head scarves.

With it's uniformly ugly cast and brightly lit, almost clinical scenes of penetration and overgrown 70's bush the true horror comes not from the idea of being shagged to death by a large blue mutant but from the look on the cast members faces as the are forced to twist their faces and bodies into more and more frighteningly contorted shapes as they attempt an array of unique and horrifically fake 'cum faces' just to earn a dollar.

Or in Annj Goren's case enough to buy a bottle of extra strong mouthwash in order to rise away the taste of tramp from earlier.

It's enough to put you off sex (especially with zombies) for life and after almost two hours of Mark Shannon's aforementioned genital warts I'd challenge you to ever eat a bramble again.

Those minor niggles aside it does feature the only full screen death by forced zombie blow job I can think of on film so that must count for something I guess.

Like shagging a bin or lunching out on a hobo (or is that the other way round?) Porno Holocaust is something you must experience at least once before you die.

Because to be honest I really shouldn't have to suffer this alone.

raiders with lasers.

 

I first reviewed todays 31 days of 'orrah entry way back in 2011 and was shocked and surprised to find a comment from the original director Brett Piper.

The surprise wasn't that someone involved in the movie had read my blog but that just anyone at all had if I'm honest.

Since then it's been less celebrity endorsement and more death threats and indifference but heyho.

Anyway, let's travel back in time to 1986, the year of big hair, even bigger pants and my 'O' levels.

Oh yeah and films opening with horrendously overproduced yet utterly brilliant 'Rawk' ballads.

And the film with the greatest of these banging cock-rock themes?

It has to be....


Raiders Of The Living Dead (1986).
Dir: Samuel Sherman.
Cast: Robert Deveau, Robert Allen, Donna Asali, Nino Rigali, Corri Burt, Bob Sacchetti, Leonard Corman, Zita Johann and Scott Schwartz.

We are the Raiders, of the Living Dead.

And now the hunted, are huntin’ them instead.

Got to destroy, master and the slave, 

We’ve got to drive them, back into the grave!

Bombing down a deserted highway in a sexy as fudge pimp mobile and getting involved in a car chase that would make Bond proud, leather jacketed and mirror shaded Jerry Badman (Sacchetti, who in all likelihood is probably Eric Roberts' son) is following a truck full of nuclear waste down the road.

As one does.

His plan?

To hi-jack it when it stops at a red light, unfortunately the cops giving chase manage to mistake the hi-jacked truck for a completely non-hijacked one and follow that instead.

Doh.

Detective Kruger (Regali) the badly dressed shmoe in charge of the case is not a happy bunny having managed to lose Eric Roberts Jr. and a load of nuclear waste all within 10 minutes of each other but is soon cheered up by the fact that his superiors want him to storm a nuclear power station that has been taken over by a terrorist with a big bomb.

It's like a gun-obsessed version of Hollyoaks but populated by (even more) sweaty pedo's.

Ordering his top SWAT team (all two of them) to burst in and save the hostages, the terrorist is accidentally tripped up in the ensuing struggle and falls on a big electric thing.

And, by the look on his face dies of excessive spunking.

Which is the way I'd like to go if I'm honest.

Anyway with the crisis resolved, the terrorists body is taken away and injected with something gooey by someone unknown.

Warning: this plot thread WILL NOT be resolved.

She'll never fit all that in her mooth.

With that out of the way let's head back to film good and proper - wrinkly old human/testicle hybrid Dr. Carstairs (Allen) and his shockingly ginger grandson, Jonathan (cutesy child star turned manager for adult film stars Schwartz) are deep in discussion over the fact that they can't watch any of the Doc's 'private' movies because his laser disc player, which is sodden with old man joy jism, is broken and in need of fixing.

And to make matters worse Carstairs is refusing to pay the $175 the repair shop are gonna charge to look at it.

Grumpy old sod.

Luckily Jonathan is a mechanical genius and offers to have a poke about inside the player.

Unfortunately he's also an utter arse, causing the players laser beam to discharge (snigger) vaporising his pet hamster.

I have a friend who tried to
build this after watching this film but don't worry I'll not mention them by name so you can quit panicking Paul.

Jonathan quickly phones his 'friend' Michelle (spud-faced dwarf Burt) to explain what he's created (oh and to tell her his hamsters dead) and, reckoning she could use the laser to trim her beard heads over to the house to excitedly chat about all the things they could do with a fully functioning death ray.

Unfortunately killing the director isn't one of them.

Meanwhile across town ace newspaper reporter Morgan Randall (Trail of the Screaming Forehead's Deveau) is cruising the town in his mum's car alongside a shockingly plain woman on their way to the infamous Coulter Farm.

Is it a date?

An assignment?

An abduction?

we're never told, all we know is that a mass grave was found there, oooohh years ago and the local paper is just getting round to covering the story.

Anyways, after skulking about in the dark whilst uttering utterly banal dialogue for 20 minutes our unattractive duo are attacked by, gulp, zombies.

There had to be some in the film, I mean the clues in the title.

Plain Jane is captured by the undead but luckily Randall escapes strangulation by a man who's meant to be the terrorist guy from the start - but is in fact a totally different actor altogether - only to get run down (in a car kinda way, not told his suit is shite) by the not that bad looking (but awful at driving) Shelly Godwin (the hot mum from Wilfrid's Special Christmas, Asali).

"Rrrrrraaaannngggeerrrssss"

Recovering back at her 'pad', the battered and bruised Randall decides that rather than report the ugly birds kidnapping and the immanent zombie invasion to the police, he'd rather invite Shelly out to the cinema in the vain hope that a nibble from his mustardy hotdog will lead to a chance to investigate her gusset later on.


Sounds fair enough.

So after purchasing a sawn-off shotgun, they head out to the local cinema to catch the directors earlier movie Hells Angels on Wheels.

As crazy as it seems it turns out that it was quite fortuitous buying the gun seeing as there's a zombie lying in wait at Randall's apartment when he returns home.

Being a hefty man of action tho', Randall has no qualms about shooting the zombie in the face before legging it straight over to Dr. Carstairs house.

Wasps.

Totally believing Randall's story (or eager for some fresh muscled meat in the house) Carstairs offers Randall free use of his grandson alongside a room for the night.

Which is pretty good timing seeing as his landlady has found the dead body in his room and called the police, who are all rather eager to chat to our hero.

Things take an even more bizarre turn when the Cripinesque state coroner Dr. Kopek (Corman) cheerily informs everyone that the body had been dead for around two years even before it was shot.

A wee bit like the script for this movie then.

"Is that an illegal firearm in your pocket
or are you just pleased to see me?"

As if his day couldn't get any worse Randall now has the cops and the undead out for him.

But our hirsute hero has got buddies of his own to solve the case; sexy (ish) Shelly who doesn't mind lying to the police for him, an old doddery doctor who wants a piece of his prime ass (probably) plus the doctor's geeky grandson (remember?) who's just created a laser death ray.

Oh yes and Michelle the living potato.

"Sorry hen it's an illegal firearm,
but I've got an erection too".

But if only he knew a helpful librarian with a big file marked 'how to find and stop the local zombie plague', that would be really fortuitous.

And not to say a wee bit far fetched probably.

Enter (well maybe back in 1932 when she played Helen Grosvenor in Karloff's The Mummy but now now*) Zita Johann as, you guessed it, a helpful librarian with a big file marked 'how to find and stop the local zombie plague'.


What were the chances of that?


With his misfit band of buddies in tow, Randall heads out to the zombie base out at the abandoned mine to kick some undead arse......but will these raiders of the living dead be able to withstand the horror that awaits them?

With a true-life story almost as convoluted as it's script, jack of all trades Sam Sherman's opus began life in 1983 as a lo-fi horror flick directed by Brett Piper called Dying Day a not-too shady little zombie shocker with a passable cast and OK effects.

Buying the rights to the film, Sherman wasn’t satisfied with what he saw and began tinkerings of George Lucas proportions, first he re-edited it and released it under the title Dark Night before realising it was still shite and shooting new footage with a new cast.

The project was finally finished more than three years later, renamed one final time and  released as Raiders of the Living Dead.

Titles.

Unfortunately after all his hard work the end result is a wart encrusted testicle of a movie, featuring absolutely no sex or gore but with plotlines that appear then disappear for no reason, sub-thrift shop make-up, nylon clad extras and an annoying carrot topped teen with a home made laser.

By rights it should be fucking abysmal but just like that clap ridden, dirty middle-aged barmaid that took pity on you when you'd failed to impress the laydees with your pulling powers as a teenager  (remember the one? she had a disabled husband and smelled of digestives), by the end of it you've ridden out the scabby bits and (vaguely) enjoyed the smoothly syrupy cheese that followed.
 

I've seen the film way too many times for a sane person and still have no idea who or what the terrorists are after or what Randall is investigating, but to be honest that's part of the movies fractured charm.

Go on, treat yourself and if nothing else you can dance along to the theme.

And laugh at the ginger boy obviously.














































*Because she's been dead since 1993 obviously....tho' as a teen I had a massive crush on her, which is an excuse for these: