everybody in the house of love.

Sorry about the lack of updates of late, been stuck in the middle of school holibags trying to juggle evil podlings whilst drawing sexy were-ladies and caped vigilantes.

It's a dirty job etc.

The Silent House (2010).
Dir: Gustavo Hernández. 
Cast: Florencia Colucci, Abel Tripaldi and Gustavo Alonso.

It's a lovely Autumn eve in downtown Uruguay (I think), the sun is setting, the birds are tweeting and the painfully hatchet faced Laura (Colucci, looking like a healthier, slightly less pie obsessed Sonia Jackson from Eastenders) is accompanying her grizzly Edward James Olmos-ish father (and collector of Henrik's department store staff lottery money) Wilson (the director of Rompenieblas, una historia de psicoanálisis y dictadura himself, Alonso) to their pal Jimmy Néstor’s (Tripaldi, misspelt brother of Peter) run-down old house, where they plan to spend the night for no other reason than it looks a wee bit creepy.

Oh and silent, obviously.

Néstor, being a nice guy, has bought along a couple of fluorescent lamps (you know, the ones bright enough to use a video camera with), a tinny off-tune medium wave radio and a few dog blankets for his friends to help them thru' the night.

No Bovril, booze or biscuits tho' the tight bastard.

Settling down on a couple of big dusky chairs for the night and with some frankly appalling Spanish language country music to help them get to sleep, Laura is soon (well, soonish I mean we have to put up with ten minutes of her aimlessly wandering the house and giving us a quick glimpse of bra strap first) disturbed by the sound of shuffling coming from upstairs.

"Look at the dog! Look at the dog!"

Finally waking her dad from his pneumatic breast obsessed dream he reluctantly heads upstairs to have a nosey about leaving Laura downstairs quivering like a very thin jelly.

A sudden bang followed by a manly scream informs Laura (and the viewer) that something nasty has happened to Wilson.

Well it's either that or he's tripped over an old paint pot but where would the tension be in that?

Cue an hour of Laura investigating every single inch of her immediate surroundings (and more) even after she discovers he dad's dead and bound body, revealing that there is every possibility of a mad mentalist murderer being in the house with her.

Women eh?

Laura visibly shocked by her dad's black trouser, brown shoe combination.

But don't fret tho' cos these aimless meanderings are often interrupted by the odd tin falling off a shelf, birds flying out of cupboards and big beefy hands grabbing for our heroine who, after about forty minutes of re-enacting cut scenes from Resident Evil, runs off screaming only to come across Néstor on his way back to the house with some pasties for supper.

Yum.

Given the choice between going to the local police station or heading back to the house our kooky couple decide on the latter (as you would if you still had another twenty odd minutes of film to fill) giving the director even more opportunity for some scary jumps, Polaroid  flash fun featuring ghostly girls and ketchup covered killers and finally a bedroom wall covered in saucy pics of Laura, Néstor and her dad.

Yikes.

"It's the Gonch!"

It seems that young Laura and her dad's pal have a history of doing the (very) dirty together and with, it seems Wilson's blessing.

It's all like a slightly less entertaining episode of Jeremy Kyle.

But with more teeth obviously.

With her fathers body gone, Néstor missing, a ghostly girl wandering the hallways and only a few minutes left to build to a satisfying climax what will happen to poor Laura?

Will she be the killers next victim?

Is it all imagined?

Or will the director treat his audience like idiots and reveal that what we've just watched unfold in real-time is all actually utter bollocks and that Laura's been killing everyone off because Néstor made her get rid of their baby?

They wouldn't do that would they?

Fuck me Cheryl Cole's let herself go.

The biggest shock surrounding this movie is that it's from Uruguay, a country more famous for being the ninth "Most livable and greenest" country in the world and it's cannibalistic rugby team than for it's cinematic triumphs and judging by The Silent House's distinct lack of internal logic, any kind of consistent characterisation and a total disrespect for it's audience's intelligence it'll probably stay that way.

Florencia Colucci, possibly the one from the film, possibly not.

It's selling point as a one-take, real-time thriller is a lie (I spotted at least two edits in the first twenty minutes) as is it's purported 'based on a true story' credentials (possibly). In fact there's nothing here that we haven't seen a thousand times before.

Best of all tho' is the movie's post credits coda where, just to show how mental Laura actually is (because having her murder her dad and lover with a scythe obviously isn't enough) we get ten minutes of her skipping thru' the woods with an imaginary child whilst waffling on about canoes.

If you think I'm being a wee bit harsh (what? me?) it's only because that with a little more care and a lot more thought this could have been a great little spook flick.

As it is now it's just bloody annoying.

Well at least we have the remake with the Olsen Twins younger sister Elizabeth to look forward too.

plugger bugger.

Unveiling the OFFICIAL Grindhoose t-shirts.

Ltd numbers available on the night with orders taken.

A steal at only £10!

people you fancy but shouldn't part 31.

The Bronte Sisters.

Especially Anne.

 

And who says this blog isn't cultured?

a true story.

 I was watching Zombieland.

Alone.


Matinee, about a week after it was released; I come early and find the perfect seat.


A couple others filter in, one person sits right behind me.


About halfway through the movie, I start to hear moaning from behind me.




Just keep watching the movie and eating my popcorn.




Bill Murray scene comes up.




Moaning increases behind me.




Bill Murray dies in the movie.




Moaning comes to a climax, jism hits my hair.




Turn around with a disgusted look on my face.




Bill Murray is looking at me, pants around his ankles, semi-erect penis in hand, dripping with semen.




He says “nobody will ever believe you.”




I turn back around and finish watching the movie.




It was fine, everything was fine.

muerde.

More filthy foreign fun in comic form for your enjoyment.

invitation to love.

Here's a quick write up of a couple of Australian movies I've stumbled across recently, both so entertaining that it's almost impossible for me to find any way of adding a 'laugh now' or 'shite in mah mooth' to the proceedings.

Hence the brevity of the reviews.

Sorry.

Lake Mungo (2009).
Dir. Joel Anderson.
Cast: Rosie Traynor, David Pledger, Martin Sharpe, Steve Jodrell and  Talia Zucker.

Alice kept secrets.She kept the fact that she kept secrets a secret.

First up Lake Mungo, a supposedly true-life (i.e. not at all) documentary chronicling the little known case of the Palmer family,  just your average mum, dad and two kids whose lives are altered forever when their broody (but still fairly bouncy) sixteen-year-old daughter Alice (Zucker, Erin Perry from Neighbours) drowns mysteriously (and very wetly) whilst picnicking with her family.

Alice Palmer: Water sports with me.

Not long after the poor girls funeral, bizarre things begin to occur at the Palmer residence; strange noises can be heard around the house at night, Alice's bedroom door keeps mysteriously opening and closing and a little man in a red suit is seen dancing backwards around the lounge.

OK, perhaps not the last one.

Adding to the sense of unease, shock to fuck (in a kinda hot way) mum June (Traynor) has started having nightmares and can only sleep if she breaks into someone else's house whilst Alice’s brother, Matthew (Sharpe star of the fantastic Scooter: Secret Agent series) has discovered that all his photo's and videos have his sisters ghost in them.

Spooky.

Luckily for us dad Russell (teevee stalwart Pledger) remains calm and bedecked in a Crocodile Dundee style checked shirt throughout.

"Luckily I managed to scramble my way to the bank..."

Fearing for her sanity and unable to face the ever increasing pile of dirty shirts left by her hubbie June contacts the noted radio host cum psychic Ray Kemeny (sometime satellite array dish Jodrell), a paranormal specialist with a smart line in chunky knitwear.

Just imagine how much shite that mooth could hold.

As is the investigation begins to unfold, the family realise that their happy, fun-loving daughter led a darkly disturbing double life with enough secrets dark enough to put her American cousin Laura to shame and that even the softly spoken Matthew might not be all that he seems.

Not as much as this one did obviously.

As the mounting evidence and unearthed secrets continue to grow, the Palmer family find themselves leaving the safety and relative normality of suburbia for the otherworldly landscape that is Lake Mungo, a dried-up lake bed that Alice had once visited alongside her classmates.

What awaits them there will shake the Palmer's to their very core and leave them changed forever.

Jade Goody: The return.

One third The Last Broadcast, one third Twin Peaks and a third The Stone Tape, Joel Anderson's feature debut is a confident slow burner, relying on strong writing, honest acting and a fair amount of viewer love for classic David Lynch rather than blood scares and cheap tricks.

Which makes a nice change around here occasionally.

There's not much I can say for fear of spoiling one of the few genuinely creepy films of the past ten years except for see it before the obligatory American remake arrives.

Sharing the same basic 'mockumentary' premise as well as the same poster designer by the looks of things comes The Tunnel.

Billed as 'the viral movie of the year' by someone better paid (and very probably better looking) than me.

The Tunnel (2010).
Dir: Carlo Ledesma.
Cast: Bel Deliá, Andy Rodoreda, Steve Davis and Luke Arnold.

In order to alleviate Sydney's water shortage problem, local government types have come up with a plan to utilize the vast amount of derelict railway tunnels below the city to build a giant water recycling facility even tho' this would upset all the poor homeless folk who allegedly live down there.

Uncaring wretches.

Suddenly, the project is shelved amid rumours of dozens of tramps (and a few hoodie wearing graffiti artists) disappearing down there, even though the official line is that no-one at all ever ventures down there.

Ever.

She thinks she's sweaty now but just wait till the arse whacking starts.

Enter (if I must) the mighty chinned and extremely dirty pillowed investigative journalist Natasha Warner (Deliá) who, reckoning that there's a story to be told (and awards to be won), heads down into the tunnels to discover the truth.

Unable to get a permit and desperate to make her mark, Natasha and her team; fellow hack Peter (Rodoreda), hunky cameraman Steve (ex snooker champ Davis) and soundman 'Tangles' (Arnold) sneak into the maze like underground network, laughing and joking as they go.

Before too long tho' our intrepid gang discover that there is indeed something down there, something that may not even be human.

But the worst is still to come.

Trapped in the labyrinthine tunnels without a proper map (or even sensible shoes) and hunted like tiny things that get hunted by big nasty things Steve informs everyone that the battery packs on the lights are running dangerously low.

And no-one has set the video for The Paul Hogan Show.

Peter O'Brien: The pasty years.

Whilst The Tunnel wont win any awards for originality, it's producers just might thanks to the unique way the film was financed and marketed.

Part funded by encouraging people to buy a frame of the movie for $1 and then releasing the finished product for free on various torrent sites, viewers were encouraged to try before they committed to buy the extras laden physical DVD release.

Which you have to admit is fairly smart.

Especially for Australians.

But what really puts The Tunnel in a different league to the majority of found footage or your average low budget indie flicks is how slickly made it is, rather than go the normal found footage route (bad edits, jumps and all) The Tunnel is sold to the viewer as a fully completed documentary even down to the fantastically realised credits and the composition of the interviews.

Mix this with the clever use of outside video footage other than the crews camera (mainly from closed circuit television from various locations) and a dedicated, utterly believable cast (hats off to Davis especially) and you know you're onto something that's really special.

Noel Edmonds: Tunnel or funnel?

And whilst the set-up may be a wee bit more convoluted than the norm, it works well enough to get the characters involved in the fairly credible backstory and more importantly into the tunnels and into danger, building slowly on the tension whilst letting us get to know Natasha and her crew before cranking up the the atmosphere (and throwing in some pretty effective scares) for the films second half.

Yes the director is aware that we know who's going to die and what's going to happen in the end but it doesn't stop him from making the journey there such good, old fashioned scary fun and one of the best things to come out of Australia since Robin McLeavy's arse.

danger: diabolique.

Obviously John Philip Law's reading material of choice.