stage shite.

Today some found footage goodness.

But will this deliver the goods or just leave us hanging?

The Gallows (2015).
Dir: Chris Lofing and Travis Cluff.
Cast: Reese Mishler, Pfeifer Brown, Ryan Shoos, John Tanksly and Cassidy Gifford.

"Don't say his name!"

There's nothing like throwing the viewer in at the deep end so we begin way back in 1993, slap bang in the middle - well possibly nearer the climax but who really cares? - of a hellish high school production of The Gallows, a kinda sub-Scarlet Letter/Crucible rip-off only with half the charm and an abundance of substandard Shakespearean dialogue delivered in that cringing mockney tone that Americans seem to think is a true representation of an 'English' accent.

In the stalls the proud parents of fright-wigged freak teen Charlie Grimille are busy recording the play for posterity as they admire their son's plumb-mouthed performance.

If I'd have known by this point that this grainy home movie footage was a good as the film got I would have given up now.

It's not all arsed-up accents and wonky wigs tho' because as the play lurches toward its climax - which features Charlie's character being hung from the aforementioned gallows - tragedy (or good taste, take your pick) strikes when the door beneath him opens accidentally hanging him in front of the entire school.


Which if I'm honest is really raising the bar for whoever takes the drama class the year after.

I mean how the fuck would you follow that?

A musical version of Salo?

That typesetting is off.

Jump forward to the present day, where the school (for some reason known only to the parent council and woefully incompetent script writers) have decided the time is right to restage the play - with the same costumes, prop gallows and everything.

Surely that'd be like Columbine deciding to stage a version of Gus Van Sant's Elephant using the shooters actual guns as props?

But I'm not American so what do I know?

There's no time to dwell on such matters tho' as we're quickly (come on the running time is only 81 minutes) introduced to the frighteningly horse faced Ryan (Ryan Gosling via a drunken police photofit Shoos), an arrogant arsehole who's main interest seems to be baying at his own jokes in the manner of an idiot manchild who's just discovered the power of speech.

Waving his camera around like an easily amused monkey playing with their own shit, Ryan is busying himself filming his best friend Reese's (Youthful Daze's Randy Milhouse, Mishler) woeful attempts at acting whilst looking good in tights.

It appears that he's playing the same character Charlie played last time around but luckily for him the brain-power it seems to take to enable him to walk and talk at the same time leaves him precious little to worry about the whole hanging thing with.

To be honest he seems more concerned with having to share an onstage kiss with the doll-like - albeit one with a massive head - lead actress Pfeifer (Brown, a kinda more homely Danielle Harris).

This is because he loves her don't you know.

I just look at this picture and it makes me too angry to even consider writing a vaguely amusing caption. Sorry.

After several minutes (that'll I'll never, ever get back you bastards) of watching Ryan following Reese around - in between taking the piss out of all the geeky students and interviewing a group of woman who witnessed Charlie's death in a vague hope of keeping our interest - our fowl-faced friend finds a door with a broken lock, which gives him the idea of sabotaging the sets and saving Reese the agony of looking like a complete tit onstage.

Ryan's button-nosed girlfriend Cassidy (Gifford, daughter of Barry and Kathie Lee, possibly) agrees the this would probably be a good idea and the pals agree to meet up that night to put the plan into operation.

And before you ask the school obviously has no alarms.

Or CCTV.

Even before that tho' we have to have a scene where Reese's manly as fuck dad Rick (Tanksly, last seen leaving your mums bed early yesterday morning) shouting at his son in an almost predatory manner whilst telling him not to do the play.

This may become important later.

After this fantastic scene of parental concern cum character building the toothsome trio quickly head over to the school and are soon channeling their rebellious nature by violently kicking over a few plant pots and smashing some bottles before settling down to unscrewing the stairs leading to the gallows.

Right on.

The fun(?) is bought to a sudden end tho' when Pfeifer pops up out of the shadows after claiming to have seen Reese's car in the car park.

No idea how tho'....perhaps she carries a ladder around with her.

Anyway, this being a found footage gig Ryan blatantly leaves the camera recording as Reese uncomfortably tries explain to Pfeifer why they're sneaking around the school late at night, luckily for him (and us) he's interrupted by a series of loud thumps (as in the noise, not ones to his head unfortunately) and what sounds like a bell ringing.

Perhaps it only rings when the script hits a certain cliché level in order to warn the audience to leave?

The only spirit haunting these poor fuckers is the ghost of Showgirls.

Never having heard a bell in a school before the  kids get a wee bit spooked and decide it'd be best if they just went home and forget about the whole thing but try as they will the broken door is now locked.

If that wasn't creepy enough they soon discover that none of their phones are working  meaning that they've no way of calling for help or saving the audience from even more tedious out of focus "he's behind you" shenanigans.

Frustrated by the obscene amounts of horror tropes on show Cassidy confesses all to Pfeifer (well not all, I mean she doesn't go into detail about the nude romp with Jenny (Mackie Burt) from the cheer leading squad or show the pictures of her pleasuring herself with Ryan's massive chin but we can dream), causing poor Pfeifer to angrily stomp off into the darkness.

I assume it's anger tho' it may have been a case of slight constipation.

Burt: Nude cheerleading.

Gingerly (and you don't often get to use that word in a horror review) exploring the school for a way out the group soon come across a hidden door in a storeroom that leads them to a document filled cupboard where an old TV is playing looped footage of the local news report of Charlie's death.

Just in case we'd forgotten why we are here obviously.

That's not all tho' as the screen is soon filled (well as filled as one of those old 4:3 screens can be) with Charlie's folks footage of the accident (obviously You've Been Framed rejected it due to the focusing issues) as well as an interview with Charlie's girlfriend (then not now obviously), who just happened to be one of the women that was watching the rehearsals earlier that day.

What are the chances?

It turns out that Charlie was the understudy for role and only took over when the original student called in sick due to painful hemorrhoids caused by spending too much time sitting on the cold stage.

At this point Reese makes a noise like a startled mouse and runs off in the direction of the school's 'Gallows' memorial display.

Grabbing the cast photo from the case Reese is shocked to discover that the original actor cast was his dad Rick.

Again, what are the chances?

Pretty high if your script writing skills are this lazy obviously.

"Hello French polishers? You may just have saved my life!"

Trapped in the school with no means of escape our scared students begin to realize that something supernatural may be afoot and Charlie may have returned from beyond the grave to extract an ill-conceived and poorly thought out revenge plan that, upon closer inspection (well any inspection if I'm honest) makes no sense whatsoever.

Will our heroes survive?

Will anything remotely original happen?

Will one of the characters be revealed to be a hitherto unmentioned child of Charlie's?

Will the film end with a clunkily added coda that attempts to set up the villain as a new horror icon only to leave you giggling like a French schoolgirl?

And is it wrong to find myself more and more attracted to Pfeifer Brown the sweatier and more shot to fuck she becomes?

Scraping the bottom of the cinematic barrel (probably the same one that Josh put Megan in) comes a film so contrived and with so little respect for it's audiences intelligence that one can only assume that it was greenlit as some kind of bizarre post-modern experiment in using cinema to cause atrophy in brain tissue.

I never usually say this but spoilers/plot holes ahead for anyone brave enough to risk viewing it:

After such a tragic accident, would a school (any school, the one I went to excepted) actually restage a play that resulted in the death of a student and use the same prop?

Would no-one (teachers, parents etc.) not mention the fact that the lead actor was the son of the original lead? I mean his photo is in the schools main lobby....did no-one bother to look?

And does the school not keep pupil records?

You see it turns out that Pfeifer is the daughter of Charlie's ex girlfriend, born a few months after his death....and it was her that lobbied to get the school to restage the play....did no-one think this a wee bit odd?

Everyone appears to know that the stage door is broken, did the schoolboard think "Fuck it, we can't afford a padlock, it's not like anyone ever breaks into schools"?

And that's just the ones I made a note of before I started dribbling and trying to spoon out my eyes.

Good job I didn't tho' as the  joint writing/directing team of Lofing and Cluff do manage to deliver a couple of nicely creepy set pieces, it's just unfortunate that they're quickly smothered by the sea of warmed up shite that surrounds them.

Honestly there's the bare bones of a nice little mocumentary/found footage chiller lurking beneath the mess, it just needs a wee tweak to make it work.

For example, up the age of the students slightly and have them discover the whole gallows tale online, deciding to do their film studies final project around it they travel across State to interview folk involved and finally discover the prop still exists....rebuilding it to stage a 'true-drama' re-enactment for the projects climax.

Plus by moving the location - and altering the timeline to make the incident happen a few decades earlier as opposed to a few years eliminates the majority of the plot holes.

Pfeifer could be the grandchild not child, which also gives a creepy "You look a wee bit like Charlie" vibe to the whole thing that would leave you guessing is it possession or revenge?

You're welcome.

"Bunions!"

The thing that makes me the saddest tho' is that regardless of how badly written and generally cack handed the whole thing is is the fact that the relatively inexperienced cast are all fantastic, bravely doing their best with material that by rights shouldn't even been given a second thought let alone typed up and made.

Ryan Shoos is perfectly punchable without ever drifting into parody as the bullying jock whilst Reese Mishler performs the difficult act of balancing put upon pal with a kind of shy pathos that really makes you believe in his character, I just wanted to give him a hug and reassure him that everything was alright around the halfway point.

Mainly due to him having to be in such an awful movie but still.

Pfeifer Brown is fabulous too, going from crying cutey to spooky psycho on the spin of a coin and fair play to Cassidy Gifford who draws the short straw (and even shorter shorts) by managing to make a character whose main traits seem to be stating the obvious and screaming actually watchable.

They - and us - deserve better.

And no I don't mean this.....

another five pounds?

 

 

Excuse the short review today,  it's just that my copy of Nezulla The Rat Monster isn't subtitled plus it's on VCD so it's like watching thru' a sock.

Seriously, look:

And with that....


Nezulla The Rat Monster (2002)
Dir: Kanta Tagawa.
Cast: Daisuke Ryu, Yoshiyuki Kubota, Mika Katsumura and Ayumi Tokito.

私を犯す！それは巨大なネズミです！

Our story opens with three hip 'n' groovy teens - well two hip 'n' groovy teens and one comedy chubster as is the way with Japanese DTV stuff - investigating a deserted warehouse in the hope of finding any booze or fags.

Tho' why they couldn't try the off-license or a disco I've no idea.

Anyway, whilst scouring the shelves for contraband they're viciously attacked by an unseen terror.

A very violent and very loud unseen terror.

Meanwhile in downtown Tokyo a mysterious, face paint and Quorn based virus has begun to infect the terminally unlucky cities populace.

Those unfortunate to contract the disease are rounded up by soldiers and either locked in a big cupboard sans their shoes or shot in front of their kids whilst a stoic Japanese doctor looks on manfully.

At his side stands a frail looking soft skinned nurse doing her best 'it's a shame for them isn't it?' eyebrow acting whilst gazing at our heroic (if heroism included just standing by whilst folk get shot) young doc.

Thru' a series of flashbacks told using the ancient art of shadow puppetry (I wish) a fairly attractive female scientist (bespectacled J-Pop cutie Ayumi Tokito best known for playing a sex robot in Shulea Cheang's IKU ) tells us how, a few years earlier the evil US military (boo! hiss!) teamed up with a naive Japanese research firm in the hope of finding a way to genetically engineer soldiers with an immunity to every biological and bacterial agent known to man.

Which makes me wish that some of my work briefs were as simple.

Laugh now!

Unfortunately (as is always the way in these situations) the genetically altered Bubonic plague virus that the scientists have been feeding the lab rats on a daily basis causes one of the pesky rodents to grow to man size, shed its fur and fuck off into the sewers whilst squeaking loudly.

But not before it's eaten most of the research team obviously.

Rather than fill in loads of pesky insurance forms and the like the folk involved reckon the best option is to just abandon the lab and hope no-one notices the big pink rat skulking about the town.

Everything's fine and dandy until the plague ridden rodent gets a bout of violent wind that causes its internal gases to mutate into the aforementioned virus and spread to the nearby populace.

Nezulla - Less rat monster more arse botherer.

Luckily for all those involved, Ratty's blood carries the antibodies that could cure the virus (probably) so a crack team of commandos - alongside the original Japanese Pink Ranger and former Minisuka Police star Katsumura - are ordered to infiltrate the deserted labs and capture the killer rat before it's too late (too late for what? the virus is already out and that things been in the sewers for years....nothing like being laid back I guess).

Cue huge amounts of anti-American dialogue (including the classic "Damn those no-good white people") and the introduction of a strict and sexy Japanese woman in league with the evil Americans.

The rotter.

Tokito - bespectacled.

To make matters worse - but the scant running time a wee bit more exciting obviously - it turns out that Ms. Evil and  her nasty Yankee cohorts have set a time bomb inside the complex - well, in Ratty's nest chamber to be precise - timed to go off in an hour or so.
 

And the reasoning behind this?

Her American Employers would rather blow the shite out of everything than have to apologise to 'the dirty japs'.

See? told you so.

So it's a race against time, and stilted dialogue via smoking and male bonding issues for our team as they set out to complete their mission before anything else comes to light that could make their day any worse.

And if that wasn't enough storyline for a 70 minute shocker there's also a cloying subplot regarding the manly doctors love for his nurse.

Phew.

Director Kanta Tagawa once claimed in an interview that Nezulla The Rat Monster was the  inspiration for Bong Joon-Ho's modern classic The Host but evil film moguls, terrified that the film's stunningly realistic effects and on the nose eco-friendly plot would be too much for audiences to take so left the film languishing on the shelves (or more likely behind the bins) for a few years before letting it loose on an unsuspecting public who were finally  deemed culturally aware enough to fully appreciate this modern classic of monster cinema.

Unfortunately no-one gave a fuck.

Except me obviously.

And then only because I'm a Mika Katsumura completest.

But what of the film?

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

Well, I have to admit it's a triumph of idea's over budget, from the fantastically false two piece monster suit (with buttons NOT zips) to the fact that all the killings appear oh so slightly off screen, it's almost as if everyone involved actually knows it's shit, which is a nice change.

It's just that they don't actually seem to realise just how shit it actually is.

Occasionally tho', just as you're about to turn it off, everyone seems to remember that this is meant to be a monster movie and quickly points Nezulla toward the action unfolding onscreen.

It's just unfortunate then that when this occurs he's either reduced to:

Skulking about in a corner.

Hissing in a corner (whilst the human cast ignore/can't see him).

or

Indulging in drunken fisticuffs and attempting to sodomize the soldiers.

But only those in a corner obviously.
 

It's not all bad tho' because when I was searching online for some subtitles so I could finally follow the plot I did come across these great pictures of a variety of Japanese ladies being chased by rodents so it wasn't a total waste of time.

shiver my timbers.

It's only 3 days into this years 31 Days of Horror but fuck it, here's some Jean Rollin.

Le Frisson Des Vampires (1971 AKA Sex and the Vampire, Strange Things Happen at Night, The Shiver of the Vampires, The Terror of the Vampires, Thrill of the Vampires, Vampire Thrills)
Dir: Jean Rollin.
Cast: Sandra Julien, Jean-Marie Durand, Jacques Robiolles, Michel Delahaye, Marie Pierre Castel, Kuelan Herce, Nicole Nancel and 'Dominique'.

The issue of Starburst with this
on the back cover
got confiscated during my lunchbreak
by my form teacher.
Bastard.

Our story opens (well it's not our story if I'm honest it's Monique Natan and Jean Rollins seeing as they wrote it but you know what I mean) somewhere in the French countryside where just outside a creepy castle, two of the dirtiest - and not in a good way -  laydees this side of Glasgow city centre on a Saturday night (moonheaded blonde poppet and teen crush Castel alongside the toothsome, lank haired Herce) gaze on drunkenly as the skinny minnie Isabelle (the slightly less sozzled but even more disease ridden Nancel) single handedly pops a couple of caskets into a cardboard crypt wall.

Yup definitely a Domfront gal.

Beanz meanz yeast infectionz.

Bored with staring aimlessly into the middle distance our toothsome twosome decide to go visit the castle tower in order to gaze instead at a couple of men that just happen to be chained to the wall, the stakes thru their chests making the two unfortunate fellas look like novelty coat hangers.

With his dying breath the one that can act (kind of) tells the maids to hurry to the graveyard and stake anybody who has died within the last week in case they turn into vampires.

Nodding in unison like a pair of novelty pug bookends the pair race to the cemetery.

I hope you're following this as scarily it's way more complicated to summarize this shite than to watch it.

Anyway on arriving at the graveyard the pervy pair are shocked (well apathetic) to see that the sultry Isolde (the mysterious - and painfully skinny - 'Dominique') has already risen from her grave.

And been busying herself tucking in to jam sandwiches by the look of her lips.

Recognizing a good deal when they see it - and by good deal I mean a chance to strip naked and coyly touch each others breasts -  the girls forget all about this vampire business and instead offer to serve the undead Isolde (alongside a couple of camp French blokes - are there any other kind? - who just happened to be hanging around) and help them entice unwary travelers to the house so that they may drink their blood.

And that quite frankly is why Brexit happened basically.

Dominique: up the casino, Benidorm, 1964.

With all that backstory and set up out of the way it's time to start the film good and proper and to that end we're introduced to the beautiful (and not to mention germ free) Ise (Julien, ask your dad) and her greasy mulleted husband Antoine (the rat-like Durand, ask your mum) who've just arrived at the castle after getting married.

Which begs the question what is it about European vampires and their obsession with newly weds visiting castles

Anyway it appears that Ise reckoned it'd be a good idea to combine her honeymoon with a visit to her overtly camp cousins.

As you do.

Plus as luck would have it another cousin died in the castle recently so it means she has a chance to have a wee cry about that whilst she's there too.

No doubt her new hubby is really happy with this plan but it's hard to tell seeing as he just stands there grinning and shuffling about uncomfortably in what looks like his dads suit.

Her unnamed cousins (Delahaye - tall, silver haired, lip wristed and fish lipped and Robiolles - lank haired, limper wristed and poppy eyed) seem way too happy to see little Ise and after much hugging, hair stroking, lip licking and knowing looks settle down for a slap up meal.

Davison and McGann are upset to hear that
David Tennant has all the best lines in the
75th Anniversary special 'The Nth Doctor'.

With a full tummy and a head full of grief at her (other) cousins' recent death, Ise goes all stroppy and makes Antoine sleep on the sofa.

Yup sounds like a normal wedding night.

Annoyed at not getting the chance to consummate their marriage but not wanting to come across as an unfeeling brute (or even just come across one....he's not that frustrated...yet) her hubby huffs n' shrugs before settling down for the night with a good book and the dog blanket whilst Ise drapes herself across the bed before adopting the patented horror film saucy virgin pose.

Wiggling and moaning in that sexily sweaty way that only girls in 1970's Eurohorror shlockers can, Ise is rudely awoken at midnight by Isolde noisily stepping out of a grandfather clock and our flaxen haired heroine is immediately entranced by this druggy (sorry, dusky) beauty.

Snoopy.

Isolde wastes no time in taking Ise up the cemetery (ooeer), where she uncomfortably fondles her breasts before biting her neck.

Ise's descent into darkness (and lipstick lesbianism) has begun.

Finally.

I mean come on, this is the only reason we're watching isn't it?

Marie Pierre Castel - dreamy.

Pity poor Antoine tho', the more he tries to get into his blushing brides - massive - pants the more distant and cold she becomes and, adding insult to injury whilst he's getting a crick neck from spending every night on the sofa she's getting bitten and fondled by her new vampiric lover.

Antoine's frustrations are soon at bursting point (and that's not all that's bursting from the way he's walking) and therefore, - in an effort to take his mind of his wifes admittedly peachy arse, decides to fill his days wandering aimlessly round the castle grounds shooting indiscriminately at pigeons.

This at least has the effect of bringing the couple together for a few minutes as every time he shoots one of the poor little buggers Ise darts out of the shadows and drinks its blood.

A classy date and no mistaking.

Hairy arse not shown.

Unfortunately for Antoine - but not for those of us that like a wee bit of early 70's girl on girl teasing - Ise is becoming more and more distant as she slowly transforms into a creature of the night.

By that I mean a vampire, not a taxi driver.

Tho' it is a fairly honorable and well loved profession so who am I to judge? 

Things may be about to chage tho' as one day as she's skulking about the castle Ise stumbles across Isolde's coffin sitting dangerously close to an open sunlit window.

Will she come to her senses, open the casket and kill Isolde or will she embrace (quite literally) her feminine side and complete her transformation into a saucy vampire vixen?

Go on, guess.

What your mum really gets up to at bingo nights.

As is the way with such films, you wait 30 minutes for a plot twist and two come at once, you see after years of serving their undead masters the two maids have actually been planning a way to escape from their nightmarish existence of serving drinks, fondling each other on a nightly basis and having their breasts exposed by the cousins after dinner for the amusement of guests.

Tho' I've no idea why as it seems a pretty cushy job if you ask me.

Which you didn't so I'll shut the fuck up and continue with the synopsis.

But what is this plan?

Wait for it cos it's a doozy, involving as it does sabotaging Antoine's car in order to stop him grabbing Ise and driving away (tho' why he didn't think of that earlier I've no idea) therefore forcing him to confront the vampire family whilst they sneak out the back.

And this plan took years to come up with?

Marie-Pierre farted and it's an eggy one.

As if the plot wasn't confusing enough, the other 'cousin' - possibly, it's hard to tell/care - from earlier the stern Isabelle (Nancel, looking like your friends mum you used to fancy at school) bursts into the room looking quite annoyed.

It seems that she's only just realized that her ex-lovers have transformed into evil vampires.

Better late than never I guess.

A severe case of telling off ensues which the cousins stoically take on the chin.

Lets be honest tho' it's probably not the only unpleasant thing that they've had there is it?

Unfortunately Isabelle takes it too far (well she is a woman) and starts slagging off their purple loon pants and girly blouses, accusing them of the terrible crime of being 'unmanly and pathetic'.

Obviously being the one that chose their outfits, Isolde goes a wee bit mental and decides the best course of action would be to murder Isabelle with a handy spiked bra she just happened to be wearing.

And no, I didn't see that coming.

This in turn so enrages the cousins that they have no choice but to pin her down and violently put it in her her.

Which, if I'm honest kinda gives it the edge over Graham's conflict resolution on the Jeremy Kyle show.

Until they inadvertently  killed a guest obviously.

A butcher's dog yesterday.

Antoine by this point has understandably had enough of all these underfed lesbians, as well as the crack whore maids who've by this point taken to jumping into his bed to steal his jammie bottoms and the least said about the piss and gin soaked camp cousins the better, so he decides to change into his best action slacks and confront the twee twosome with a crucifix.

But after a frankly pathetic struggle that would shame even two seven year old schoolgirls they slap him about for a bit and tie him up.

As he wriggles limply on the hall carpet sniffling like a girl and begging Ise for help the cousins camply giggle at him as they lead his beloved wife away for her final 'initiation'.

Deciding to push their escape plan ahead the maids untie Antoine, wiping his nose before pointing him in the direction of the graveyard.

Surprisingly for such an ineffectual lead he actually manages to follow the directions, making it to the graveyard without tripping over or bumping into something and also manages to succeed in abducting Ise before the ritual is complete, much to the annoyance of the cousins who mince after him waving their arms like angry camp seagulls.

At this point I'd like to add that this is no way meant as a slight to seagulls anywhere.

Camp or otherwise.

It is, in fact just a cheap attempt at humour.

I've no idea why I've felt that I have to point this out but with how sensitive everyone is these days I thought it for the best.

Whilst all this is going on a frankly bored Isolde decides to retire to the relative comfort of her coffin (for crack and buns obviously) only to find that the maids have set fire to it and surrounded the vampiric junkie with big crucifixes.

Gah!

The fire must rage for weeks tho' as she actually dies of hunger after trying to bite her own neck.

And with this the maids skip away hand in hand for a joyous, vampire free life of soap free lesbian sex.

Which we never see.

Pity that.

Forget the ample arse, check the tide
mark round her waist. Dirty cow.

But let's not dwell on what could have been and return to the here and now where we find our hero Antoine running across a beach carrying Ise to safety.

I must admit he looks very out of breath tho' so either the beach is miles away or he's even weedier than he looks.

Unfortunately it's not long before the cousins have caught up with poor Antoine, kicking sand in his face and dead legging him.

Crying even more now he begs Ise to come with him - or at least to let him put it in her once - but she chooses to go with her cousins, leaving Antoine sobbing like a wee boy who's had his football stolen by the big boys, blubbing and shaking in the sand.

Turning her back on her man (well her ex man....can't he take a hint?) she slinks toward her cousins who then nibble her neck, strip her naked and fondle her senseless till the sun rises and fries all three of them in an orgy of blood, sweat, egg and semen.

I would so hate to be their local launderette.

Distraught and confused, Antoine runs around the beach, firing off his pistol stumbles about like a loon.

There are those who will tell you that Jean Rollin was a purveyor of fine motion pictures and that if you look beyond the crass sex scenes and stilted performances that a hidden gem of art house cinema will appear.

This is, of course utter shite, I mean come on, this is the man responsible for Zombie(s) Lake.

Those of us who don't have hang ups about such things love and adore him for what he truly was.

A lovably dirty old man with an arse - and shoe - fetish.

And you'll all agree I'm sure that there's nowt wrong with that.

Appearing in the mid ground of his 'female vampire' obsession (following on from Le Viol du vampire in 1968 and La Vampire nue in '69) Le Frisson Des Vampires is the most accomplished of Rollin's vampire epics and an obvious influence, both thematically and storywise on Vicente Aranda Ezquerra's The Blood Spattered Bride released the following year.

Tho' Ezquerra could actually direct.

And afford to hire actual actors.

At once both cheap and cheerful and as pretentious as a first year art student it's moments of surreal genius (Dominique sleeping in a grandfather clock) are cruelly juxtaposed with arse numbing scenes of plotless ramblings and random snatches of female nudity.

Exploitative rubbish or an artistically erotic masterpiece?

Well I know what I think.

If you've never experienced this little gem for yourself you really should rush out and buy it now so you can make up your own mind.

Just don't forget the tissues.

pussy wagon.

 

 

We appear to have adopted a stray cat here at Unwell Towers, which is nice but it seems to be taking up all my spare time.

I mean I go to make a cuppa so I can start work (yes I do some occasionally) and end up just sitting watching it thru' the window as it eats cat biscuits or starts preening.

Maybe I should have paid more heed to this movie when I first saw it years ago.

Well I might have had it been a wee bit less forgettable, seriously I'm having trouble remembering it and I've only just turned it off.

But surely any film that starts with a Ted Hughes quote can't be that bad.

Can it?

The Uncanny (1977).
Dir: Claude Héroux
Cast: Peter Cushing, Ray Milland, Samantha Eggar, Donald Pleasence,  John Vernon, Susan Penhaligon, Alexandra Stewart, Joan Greenwood, Roland Culver, Simon Williams, Donald Pilon, Chloe Franks and Katrina Holden Bronson.

There are a couple of other folk but frankly I got bored.

You're not such a big girl anymore, are you, Angela? Why, you're no bigger than a mouse!

Our story opens on a foggy night in a foggy (Canadian) street where piss-stained mystery author Wilbur Gray (Cushing enjoying a free holiday to Montreal) has just finished his new manuscript - a massive tome that links the worlds most bizarre unsolved murders to an army of killer cats that secretly rule the world.

Which sounds just like the plot to the classic Cats And Dogs if I'm honest but heyho.

His portly - and cat loving - publisher Frank Richards (a conspicuously sober Milland) reckons that it's all utter bollocks and invites Gray round for tea, biscuits and a chance to change his mind by telling him three of the scariest stories from his book.....

"...And this bag is fully of all the fucks I give!"

So it's with a shuffle of papers and a whiff of lemon that we're transported - via the medium of wobbly dissolve - to London town in the year 1912, where the wealthy widow Mrs. Melkin (Greenwood, slumming it for beer money) has just decided to bequeath her entire fortune to her cats, completely cutting her ne'er do well nephew Michael (Williams from Upstairs, Downstairs and Doctor Who) from her will due to him spending his allowance on booze and burds.

Well, booze and Mrs. Melkin's mousy maid Janet (70s uber Brit TV babe Penhaligon).

And it's by chance - and plot convenience - that Janet overhears the old woman discussing these changes with her lawyer, Wallace (Culver, who I'm sure has been in loads of stuff but honestly I can't be bothered checking) so rushes off - after doing the dishes and the like - to inform Michael.

Shocked at the thought of having to do some actually work for a living, he hatches a plan to get Janet to steal the will from his aunts safe and burn it.

Sneaking into Mrs. Melkin's bedchamber as she sleeps, Janet carefully steps over/around the collective cats and manages to open the safe and grab the will only to be caught in the act by a suddenly very awake - and very nimble for an old bird - Mrs. Melkin who angrily threatens to call the police leaving Janet no choice than to smother her with a pillow as the cats look on planning their catty revenge.

Or they might just be thinking about dinner.

I honestly don't know.

"Fiona! Where's mah lunch?"

Actually I do know as I continued to watch in the hope of something exciting happening or at least a glimpse of ankle, which to be honest I did get but only after the cats had tried to claw Janet to death and she'd locked herself in the pantry.

You can see where this is going can't you?

Well if not tough cos I'm not going to spoil the twist for you.

I mean I had to sit thru' it so why shouldn't you?

As Gray finishes the terrifying tale he's upset to see that Richards is unimpressed so decides to take another true-crime file from his big swapping pocket in an attempt to convince him af the creepy cat capers and this time it's a wee bit more up to date, concerned as it is with the recent disappearance of a young girl, Angela Blake (Go to 70s child star Franks who was in everything from The House That Dripped Blood, I Monster, Who Slew Auntie Roo and Tales From The Crypt) in a leafy suburb of Quebec a few months earlier.

Bunnet.

The story begins when her cousin Lucy (Bronson, adopted daughter of Charles - no really - who it sounds as if has actually been dubbed by her dad here) ends up moving in with Angela and her mum and dad (Stewart from Mickey One and Pilon whom you may remember from the frankly shite video nasty I Miss You, Hugs and Kisses alongside Elkie Sommer) after her parents were killed in an horrific Frisbee accident.

But she's not alone as she's brought her pet cat Wellington along with her.

Tho' no actual wellingtons obviously.

But she does own a rather fetching bobble hat.

So that's OK then.

Anyway Angela, being a snidey wee cow and not having a pet of her own decides to spend her days abusing Lucy and blaming the cat for everything that goes wrong around the house.

Typical girl then.

As Wellington and Lucy get blamed for more and more outrageous acts (shitting in the bin, leaving hairs in the butter, subscribing to Pornhub etc) Angela's by now pissed off poppa decides to take the poor cat for a drive and leave it in the woods to die.

Much like my parents did with my cat as a child.

And by cat I mean me.

Just the pussy I've been looking for.

To cut a short story shorter, Wellington finds his way home, partly because that's what cats do but mainly because he's actually a familiar and Lucy's mom was a witch (or something) enabling her to exact revenge on her cousin thru' the power of magic and some sub-par CSO that's so fucking god-awful it would make ex-Doctor Who producer Barry Letts vomit blood.

If he wasn't dead obviously.

It's not too surprising to find that Richards still thinks that Gray's tales are utter bollocks but fear not as he announces that he's saved the best till last.

And with that our withered handed writer begins to recount the terrifying tale of the famous 1930s horror actor Valentine De'ath (Pleasance) who, after murdering his wife onset in a bizarre pendulum accident persuades his producer Pomeroy (Vernon, best known as Dean Wormer in Animal House) into replacing his still warm wife with his thick as pigshit girlfriend Edina Clunt (Eggar, who even tho' she appeared in The Brood can't be forgiven).

Anyway for the sake of basic storytelling she does indeed get the part and the pair retire to  De'ath's mansion where their attempts to have 'the sex' are constantly interrupted by his wife's cat.

"Put it in me!"

De'ath is having none of this and promptly drowns the cat's litter in the toilet before heading off to the studio to pad the already frighteningly thin premise with some comedy swordplay.

Unfortunately tho' not in his mouth.

The cat, upset by the murder of its children, follows him to the studio and attempts to kill the actor by chewing thru' some rope in order to drop an arc light on him.

And so as the film drunkenly lurches toward its climax the scene is set for a shocking showdown 'tween De'ath, Clunk and a very angry moggy...

Oh and then we go back to what Peter Cushing is up to for a twist ending obviously.

Produced by the professor of portmanteau horror himself, the late great Milton Subotsky - unfortunately at the arse end of his career (only Hawk The Slayer and The Monster Club to come) - and co-financed by Cinévidéo in Canada (yes you can) and The Rank Organization in dear old blightly, The Uncanny is a threadbare, scare-free oddity that seems as much out of time as it does out of ideas.

Shot in Quebec for less than the cost of a McDonald's Happy Meal, most of the budget appears to have been spent on Ray Milland's bar tab with the rest going toward getting Peter Cushing, Donald Pleasence and Samantha Eggar on board.

Well it's either that or Subotsky had some well dodgy photos of them stashed in a cupboard.

And let's be honest it's not like they spent anything on the special effects.

Or sets.

Or script.

Perhaps the producers thought that the behind the scenes talent would be enough to create a classic, seeing as the film boasts a fairly impressive crew - from director Denis Héroux (the man behind Naked Massacre - the film that is not an actual crime) to screenwriter Michel Parry (who gave us Xtro) and ace cinematographer Harry Waxman (The Wicker Man and Brighton Rock among others), unfortunately the end result is utter pish from start to finish.

Which is a shame really.

Candle shtick.

The cast (well some of them, well Cushing and Pleasence) do their best with what they're given whilst everyone else seems to be channeling a particularly poor community centre stage version of Tales of The Unexpected.

Minus the sexy dancing lady obviously.

Believe it or not this was actually what we had instead of porn in the 70s.

No budget, no time and no mercy, The Uncanny served as the death knell for the multi-part horror film in the UK but let's be honest - if this was a vision of things to come then it was a mercy killing.

Tomorrow something better.

I hope.

sick squid.

 

 

Welcome to 31 Days of Horror 2024 and this year we're starting with a film was like the Holy Grail of beast-based horror when I was growing up.

No, seriously - alongside The Crater Lake Monster it was on the top of my 'must see' list for decades.

And why? I hear you cry.

Well I remember catching a few clips of it on Clapperboard with Chris Kelly (as in he hosted it, he wasn't babysitting me or anything dodgy) and thinking it looked sensational, tho' in my defense I was 7 at the time.

So did it live up to childhood expectations?

Go on, guess.

"Clap mah board you magnificent wee bastards!"

Tentacles (AKA Tentacoli, 1977).
Dir: Ovidio G. Assonitis (AKA Oliver Hellman).
Cast: John Huston, Shelley Winters, Bo Hopkins, Henry Fonda, Delia Boccardo, Cesare Danova, Claude Akins, Alan Boyd, Franco Diogene, Marc Fiorini and
Sherry Buchanan.

 "Will, I've heard the suckers on a tentacles are like the claws on a tiger."

"Compared to suckers on a tentacle, claws are nothing Mr. Turner."

Welcome to the hip n' happening saucy seaside resort of Solana Beach where men are men and the women are hideously overdubbed in an makeshift shed to hide their Italian origins.

One such woman is busy adjusting her lippy as her frighteningly chubby baby bounces in it's buggy.

How sweet.

She soon however sees her best friend pull up on the opposite side of the road and in a move that even the McCann's would baulk at abandons her baby at trots off for a wee chat.

As the pals happily natter away we can only watch as the baby bounces happily in the background (tho' to be honest he's huge so wouldn't be that hard to spot) before promptly disappearing as a bus goes by causing a bout of mild indifference in the parent.

Meanwhile over at the docks we're introduced to 'salty' Stan the sailor man and his shiny peg leg as he, alongside his tight-shorted sidekick Erasmus prepare their boat for a wee fishing trip.

But all this dockside polishing is hard work (ask your mum) and Erasmus soon wanders of for a sandwich leaving poor Stan to get tugged overboard by an unseen assailant.

Don't worry tho' he soon turns up (well bits of him do) bobbing about in the ocean as a fat lady in a tiny red bikini attempts to get a greasy rat-like guy to put it in her.

Who says romance is dead?

"Laugh now!"

Enter (gently tho' he's 71 and may hurt his back) top journalist type 'Newsworthy' Ned Turner (cinema god Huston, wishing he hadn't bought that second holiday home) who's convinced that the recent deaths are somehow related to the massive tunnel being dug out at sea by the amusingly monikered Trojan Tunnels PLC.

The local sheriff (Akins from loads of stuff, go look him up if you like, I'll still be here when you get back) agrees.

His reason?

"That tunnel that they're building is using equipment Buck Rogers couldn't dream up!"

Which seems fair enough.

Fuck the deaths and discussions where are the old men in dresses? I hear you cry, well don't worry as the next scene features Huston wandering around the house in a christening gown smoking a cigar, his ickle fin legs sticking out of the bottom like stubbly matchsticks as his sister Tillie (Winters....how the heck did Assonitis get this cast?) poses provocatively around the house for his amusement.

One tearful wank and a Pot Noodle later (well I'm only flesh and blood) and we're back to the plot good and proper with an autopsy of the unfortunate Stan.

It appears that whatever killed him tore off most of his flesh before chowing down on his cartilage and finally guzzling all his marrow, leading our heroes to phone an underwater expert to see if he has any clue as to what's going on.

With Richard Dreyfuss busy in rehab it's left to famed oceanographer and whale trainer Will Gleason (Teevee stalwart and father of Anthony, Bo Hopkins) to step into the fray.

Unfortunately it looks like he'll only be able to assist from afar seeing as a recent case of the bends has left him unable to even dip his toes in water without fear of exploding.

As a plus point it does mean that he and his sharp-faced wife Vicky (Boccardo from the classic Secret of the Sahara Teevee Mini-Series) will get a free holiday out of it so it's not all bad plus being so well renowned he can easily send two no-mark extras out to sea to have a nosy around in his place.

Which means more food for whatever's munching its way thru the cast so everyone's a winner really.

"Hello French Polishers? You might just be able to save my life!"

Not everyone is so happy at the thought of Gleason's arrival tho', especially the head of Trojan (and purveyor of Buck Rogers style drilling equipment) Mr Farley Whitehead (Fonda, Mel Ferrer was busy).

Could chemicals/radiation/out of date peaches released by his sinister multinational be to blame for the recent deaths?

In any other movie the answer would be yes but in a bizarre twist of logic (and due in all probability to dear old Henry only being available for a single afternoons shooting) the only thing they've done wrong is forget to forward the paperwork to head office to say that they've started drilling a week early.

But who cares about dead Italian extras when there's a regatta to organize?

Especially when Tillie's son Tommy and his urine obsessed pal Jamie are entering.

The race that is not each other.

"How much for a mooth shite-in?"

Meanwhile back at the main plot Will is pining for his whales so decides to attempt to woo his wife into indulging his animal passions instead, unfortunately she has a sailing trip to go on (alongside her sister, a hunky man with high hair and bizarrely enough a fat Mexican played to comic perfection by the fantastic Franco Diogene, who after sporting cinema's biggest underpants ever in Andrea Bianchi’s Strip Nude For Your Killer is rewarded here with the world's tiniest swimming trunks) so leaves our hero dazed, confused and with his meager erection in his ladylike hands.

As luck would have it she gets stuck in the toilet and misses the boat leaving it up to Sherry Buchanan (she of Zombi Holocaust fame) to supply the bikini clad sexiness (alongside some top racist fatphobia) for a few minutes before the three are eaten whole.

Well not the fat guy obviously, that takes a few more bites.

Whilst all this sea-based tomfoolery is going down, Will and company make a startling discovery.

And it's not that they're stuck in a terminally dull Italian Jaws rip-off with delusions of entertainment value.

Which would be quite nice if I'm honest, I mean the rest of the film could be taken up with the American cast desperately calling their agents whilst the yumsome Buchanan lounges about in a tiny bikini.

But alas it's not that interesting or arousing.

But it is fairly funny.

Turns out that the drilling is so loud that it's annoyed an octopus that lives near by causing him to lose sleep and go a wee bit mental, killing anyone he thinks is related to the project.

Just like octopi are known not to do.

Well glad that's settled.

Here come the Belgians!

By this point you can tell that the movie is beginning to hurtle (lurch?) toward an action packed climax as a few more folk are quickly munched by the monster whilst the Sheriff runs around in a vain attempt to shut off the coastline before anyone else dies.

Unfortunately in all the excitement he appears to have forgotten to cancel the regatta.

Arse.

So the scene is set for an ocean-based blood(less) bath as the boats set sail, everyone aboard clutching walkie talkies specifically tuned to an octopus-baiting frequency (how lucky is that) whilst the rest of the town sit on the beach and watch a shit clown tell even shitter jokes totally oblivious to what's going on.

But best of all tho' is the fact that all of this plays out to a big band remix of  Stelvio Cipriani's theme from What Have They Done to Your Daughters? on an almost constant loop.

No really.

I mean when the composer can't be arsed coming up with some new music for a movie what chance do the rest of us have?

To be fair tho' he was kinda busy at the time scoring such classics as  The Great Alligator and Piranha II: The Spawning.

I almost expected the octopus to burst out of the water on a motorbike, slashing at the competitors with a huge knife whilst taking candid pics of underage girls in bikini's.

Saying that it's a thought I often have anyway.

Buchanan: Gallery.

Will our heroes be able to stop the octopus and it's reign of rampaging revenge before the race has finished?

Will our heroes wife be stupid enough to go out to sea to look for her missing sister only to be eaten in a scene directly riffed from Jaws?

Will John Huston vanish from the film entirely after realizing it's beyond saving leaving poor old Bo Hopkins to face the creature alone (apart from a couple of Killer Whales that is)?

Will Henry Fonda ever forgive his agent?

And Will Shelley Winters please stop showing her arse?

Most famous (around here anyway) for 'co-directing' the best sequel James Cameron ever made - the aforementioned Piranha II: The Spawning, Ovidio G. Assonitis takes Jaws as a template for his octo-based 'orror but decides (wisely or unwisely depending on your tolerance to pain) to replace that movies taunt pacing and genuine scares with endless shots of people chatting behind shrubbery, inappropriate kazoo use and Shelley Winters in a variety of ever larger hats intercut with scenes of a baby octopus nonchalantly nudging a toy boat in a bath.

Genius or madman?

You decide.

But (try to) ignore all that and stick with it to the bitter end and you'll be rewarded by the awesome sight of a visibly drunk (and somewhat aroused) Bo Hopkins tearfully flirting (via radio mike) with a couple of whales before sending them off to do battle with the films titular terror and all this is (frighteningly realistically) achieved by attacking a baby octopus with two handmade felt rod puppets.

But probably only because it was too much hard work to catch the real thing.

Oh yes and find a bath big enough to film it in.

Essential viewing for fans of Shelley Winters, hats or just Shelley Winters in hats.

something for the weekend....

 Enjoy.