shop till you drop.

On a brighter note had this sent to me a few weeks back* and thought I'd share.

For your entertainment a mega mix of musak as heard throughout the massive malls of 1970's America.

Enjoy.

*No idea where it's from but much kudos to the original uploader.

i don't (french) fancy yours much.

Been searching thru' the Arena archive for reviews of zombie movies featured in The UnDeck playing card set in order to have a handy mini-review of each of the films therein for folk who care about such stuff.

I'm not sure which is harder tho', trawling thru' pages of my barely literate ramblings or having to cut out all the mooth shite-in/laugh now comments to make them readable.

So taking a break from such endeavors last weekend I took a trip into old Glasgae toon (that's Scotland, in England near to Buckingham Palace and Europe for our American readers) to take a look around a place called 'The Barras'.

For those of you who aren't local, try to imagine a market stall version of Mos Eisley selling everything from knocked off pork to car doors and you're a third of the way there.

Whilst there I came across (not literally mind) a bearded old woman selling clothes pegs, country and western CD's and old VHS tapes.

Not being able to resist varicose veined vixens I just had to take a quick peek at her ample wares, so imagine my surprise when I found this:


Yup, a copy of tit-tastic La Revanche Des Mortes Vivantes on dusty old VHS and for only £1.

It was then that I realised that it wasn't featured in the UnDeck on account of being far too shite.

Imagine that.

Needless to say I had to buy it, unfortunately it also means I have to rewatch it and share my thoughts with you.

And possibly show my distinct lack of French language skills.

Apologies in advance.

Revenge of The Living Dead Girls (AKA La Revanche Des Mortes Vivantes. 1986)
Dir: Pierre B. Reinhard.
Cast: Véronique Catanzaro, Kathryn Charly, Sylvie Novak, Anthea Wyler, Laurence Mercier, Patrick Guillemin, Gábor Rassov and Christina Schmidt (not Christian Schmidt from Neighbours).

The time: the late seventies by the look of things, the place: a rainy, overcast road somewhere in the arse end of France, a blonde bimbette hitchhiker (wearing the cross country regulation outfit of stiletto heels, fishnets, suspenders and fur coat) is picked up by a pube haired man in a big jumper driving a milk van.

So far, so foreign porn like.

Pretending that she's sprained her stick-like ankle getting into his cab she persuades the driver to carry her to a deserted barn where our hitch hiking whore slowly lifts her skirt to see if driver Dan can see any bruises.

Whilst all this is going on a mysterious biker arrives and pours a bottle of Fairy Liquid into the milk.

Tho' God only knows why.

Fearing the audience may blow their load too early, the director sensibly cuts to a hideously decorated kitchen where an old lady is chatting to a transparent lingeried young girl who's busily glugging milk from a bottle like a bairn clamped onto it's mothers breast.

Within seconds of finishing the bottle she keels over.

Dead.

Liquid in mah milk!

This mysterious death is swiftly followed by a shockingly bespectacled, larged hipped bird in a pub and another girl who is so plain as to make her instantly forgettable.

It seems that a trio of bad men (and a bad lady) were blackmailing somebody rich (I don't know/care who) regarding the toxic waste that their evil lemonade mines were producing.

Probably.

Unfortunately the cash-grabbing plan started to unravel and given the choice of dumping the waste in a bin or pouring into the local milk supply, one of them bizarrely chose the latter.

If that wasn't enough excitement for you it now seems the very same chemical waste that killed the girls has somehow turned them into spud faced, massive bushed (yet completely normal bodied) zombies out for revenge (hence the title) and maybe, just maybe a wee bit of four way zombie girl on girl action along the way.

We can but hope.

"laugh now!"

I'm assuming the plot makes a bit more sense if you speak French, but frankly I'm too embarrassed to give it to any of my French friends to find out.

But as we all know, it takes more than gratuitous sex and mindless violence to make a great movie (well, most of the time) and frankly no number of lesbian zombies, penis munching, vagina/sword interfaces (at the moment of orgasm no less, well it is French) and scary plasticine undead babies can save this film from being complete and utter tedium from start to finish.

Yup, 'director' (and I use this term under duress) Reinhard (the man behind such classics as 'Outrages transsexuels des petites filles violées et sodomisées', 'Fantaisies anales' and 'La perverse châtelaine dans l'écurie du sexe' amongst others....ask your dad) manages the impossible by taking a plot involving nude zombie girls shagging people to death and turning it into one of the most boring film ever made.

How your mum could afford all those
holidays she took you on as a kid.

It even makes the directors cut of Oliver Stone's Alexander seem a good proposition for a Friday night.

OK, well maybe not that bad.

Featuring as it does, the most unattractive bunch of freaks and misfits since Joe D'Amato stopped making horror porn hybrids, piss poor effects, a camera and lighting crew that appear to have been blinded with sharp sticks minutes before production began and the clumsiest editing ever committed to celluloid and all of this still can't elevate Revenge of The Living Dead Girls to anything other than the motion picture equivalent of weeping arse sores.

And you can trust me when I say I know a thing or two about those.

The sexiest women in Cradley
Heath strip for your pleasure!

But is there anything about this film to recommend to fans of zombie nonsense (or even fans of Unshaved European girls?), well the aforementioned undead lesbian orgy between a prostitute (don't be too harsh, that's someones mum and she had bills to pay) and the three female zombies is unique enough to have you reaching for the remote with your free hand to rewatch it at least once and the fact that the zombies have a habit of ringing folks doorbells to gain entrance into their houses rather than just sneak in does have a certain polite charm to it but other than that it's to be avoided at all costs.

No doubt tho' that there'll be some pasty skinned, expensive shirted and novelty bearded behemian type sitting in a cinema bar somewhere loudly pointing out that La Revanche Des Mortes Vivantes is a serious study of perversion and the breakdown of common values in society, it's refusal to adhere to the shackles of linear storytelling prefering to confront the audience head on with visualisations of mankinds darkest thoughts puts it on par with Lars Von Treer's Antichrist and how the uneducated movie goer will miss these subtleties, concentrating on the sex and breasts instead.

No idea where I was going with that but it's late here and I felt like I should get it off my chest.

But in a totally non nude lesbian zombie way of course.

kiss kiss bang bang.

Frankly terrifying adverts for guns.

Enjoy.

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 59).

Emily Woodrow, no-nonsense single mother of three, waitress and
part-time church organist from Preacher as played by Lucy Griffiths.

the last rezort.

Came across this on the festival circuit last month.

Was expecting it to be shite.

But guess what?

The ReZort (AKA Generation Z, 2015).
Dir: Steve Barker.
Cast: Dougray Scott, Jessica De Gouw, Martin McCann, Richard Laing, Jassa Ahluwalia, Sam Douglas, Bentley Kalu, Claire Goose, Shane Zaza, Elen Rhys, Robert Firth, Sean Power, Rebecca James, Jamie Ward and Catarina Mira.

“Every apocalypse deserves an after party!”

Welcome to the world of post zombie apocalypse Britain, were every street looks like Glasgow on a wet Wednesday afternoon (albeit with the addition of some CGI big wheels) where a pesky virus has killed a third of the human race before bringing them back as piss-stained flesh-tearing zombies.

Just like Glasgow then.

Luckily for us (and the film's budget) the war 'tween the living and the dead has been fought and won, the virus controlled and the remaining dead contained.

Tho' it has left Europe with a massive refugee problem.

A zombie outbreak yup but Europe getting upset by refugees? Now the plot has got a wee bit far-fetched.

Anyway a pretty canny entrepreneur called Penelope Wilton (Brit TeeVee stalwart Goose) has taken advantage of the situation transforming a zombie-ridden island in the Mediterranean into a high-class holiday resort catering for people wanting to unleash their aggression by hunting the undead.

Sun, sea, sand, sex and wholesale slaughter.

Which if I'm honest sounds pretty bloody perfect.

Except for the sun bit.

and the sea.

But I digress.

Heading off to the island on the recommendation of her psychiatrist is the wistful Mel (Council estate Shauna Macdonald De Gouw from the Sky One remake of Dracula), a dew-eyed china-doll of a gal who is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after losing her family during the crisis.

I'm assuming that they got eaten and that she didn't misplace them behind the sofa or something, tho' either works for me.

Along for the ride (well she is paying) is her boyfriend Lewis (Ripper Street's McCann),  a former soldier who's swapped a life of zombie slaying for gazing longingly at his girlfriend whilst wearing a variety of sensible jumpers.

You can see why he's offered to join her on her journey of healing.

Arriving at the airport our depressing duo soon meet to meet up with their fellow travellers; Sadie - a woman who was jilted on her wedding day (the yumsome Rhys, star of World War Z and the actress voted Wales' 30th sexiest woman in 2009), some photo-fit business types, Yoofspeak spouting simpletons Jack and Mike (Ahluwalia and Ward) and a grumpy, Fred Perry clad Scotsman named Archer (Scott).

You got all that?

Good, now we can begin the film good and proper.

Thoughts of a zombie apocalypse and friends long gone or just realised that she's left the gas on....you decide.

Arriving at the resort (which resembles Jurassic Park if built by Butlins)our merry band start having fun, jigging away to a sub-techno-school disco DJ (what no Agadoo?) whilst a (power) suited and booted Wilton gives then the lowdown on the (undead) showdown as a manacled mop-haired monster snarls and snaps at her from the stage for maximum effect.

The crowd (as they say) goes wild.

Except for Mel who, if at all possible gazes at the slowly setting sun in a more wistful fashion than ever before.

"Yall nevah git ye honds ahn mah tattie scones!"

But as the holidaymakers party into the wee small no one notices save Archer (he's most definitely a canny Scotsman) when Sadie sneaks away from group and heads into the bowels of the resort and begins tampering with the islands computers before returning to her room with a hard drive full of who knows what.

Up bright and early the next morn to begin a day of shooting zombie the happy holiday folk are blissfully unaware of the panic and confusion raging below as the resorts computer systems slowly splutter and grind to a halt.

As the behind the scenes mayhem escalates our merry band continue to enjoy themselves shooting shackled zombies from a safe distance finally setting up camp atop a hill where they can enjoy a beer, a barbecue and a bit more blasting as the sun sets.

And it's as everyone is enjoying a cosy night under the stars that the inevitable finally happens.

Yup, all the security protocols, electric fences and other assorted safety measures turn themselves off.

Shit even the hot water stops working.

Awoken by the low moans (and putrid smell) of the undead as they shuffle - fairly quickly it must be said - toward the camp the gang, Archer reveals himself to be a hard as fuck killing machine to whom the zombie war never ended, standing purposely astride a Jeep as his clinically despatches the approaching hordes in a style reminiscent of sex god Paul Darrow* during a particularly kinky Blakes 7 episode as the others run around shouting "We're doomed!" whilst dropping guns on the floor.

"Shite in mah undead mooth!"

Assuming command of the group he vows to lead them to safety - or at least the nearest chip shop - but with the islands emergency protocols activated and a squad of bomb-laden jets heading their way time is running out.....

From Steve Barker who gave us the Govan-based gore-bore Outpost comes a surprisingly effective take on the zombie genre that offsets its low budget with big ideas making you think as to why no-one has attempted anything similar before.

Wearing its Michael Crichton influences on it's bloodied and torn sleeve like a badge of honour whilst throwing in knowing winks to past classics (there's a lovely Zombie Creeping Flesh reference), The Rezort is confidently directed, nicely cast and with some nicely under-stated perforrmances from the majority of the cast.

Scott is especially great in what could have been a tedious, one note role whilst  Martin McCann bravely underplays boyfriend Martin adding real depth to what is essentially a quickly sketched character.

Yes the reveal - and by default the films message - is a wee bit heavy handed but when the previous 80-odd minutes have been so entertaining you can forgive the film-makers being a wee bit preachy.

Plus when the only criticism of a movie is that you wish the cast and crew had a bigger budget to totally realise their ideas then it can't be that bad.

Elen Rhys - milky thighs not shown.

Well worth seeking out, The Rezort shows that the spirit of Nigel Kneale is still alive and kicking in these terrifying times of popcorn horrors.

*Yes Scott is really that sexy during these scenes

the undeck rises.....

Nothing like a good plug first thing on a Thursday morning so here goes....

Finally launching this frankly fantastic deck of playing cards that I've been beavering away at for the last few months, a real labour of love, the set harks back to the glory days of VHS, video nasties and classic Zombie films.

C'mon what's not to love? 

The cards are in manufacturing at the moment, so as a special pre-sale offer, save yourself £1.50 of the normal price AND get a signed A3 poster, using the art from any card (the poster won’t have the suit or numbers on, just the art). 

 

Follow this link for order details.

 

Normal service will be resumed as soon as..... 

walk like an egyptian.

Sorry (again) for the lack of updates, been busy beavering away on the frankly fantastic UnDeck card set (available to buy the end of the month).

Luckily I have had a wee bit of time to view some of 'the films' including this gem.

A word of warning tho' the film (and by default this review) features quite a lot of 'the words'.

Gods Of Egypt (2016).

Dir: Alex Proyas.
Cast: Brenton Thwaites, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, Gerard Butler, Chadwick Boseman, Élodie Yung, Courtney Eaton, Rufus Sewell, Geoffrey Rush, Bryan Brown, Rachael Blake, Emma Booth, Goran D. Kleut and Kenneth Ransom.

I tore the wings off my wife. Imagine what I'll do to YOU...

Welcome to the wild and wacky world of the ancient Egypt, where men are men and the ruling gods are inconsistently sized, sun-tanned panto-stars who bleed golden blood and can transform into animal-headed action figures at will.

It is here that we meet part-time popster and full time thief Jeff Bek (Home and Away's Thwaites channelling Sesame Street's Grover in an ill fitting wig) who, alongside his Giraffe necked true love Zaya (Fury Road's Eaton) are excitedly preparing for the coronation of the lord of the air himself Terry Horus (Game of Thrones sister shagging superstud Coster-Waldau) and the abdication of his dad Osiris (Brown, no introduction necessary).

Preparing for the ceremony by having a bath whilst being massaged by tiny handed CGI ladies, Horus is visited by the saucy Goddess of Love Linda Hathor (council estate Monica Bellucci and Netflix Electra Yung) for a quick chat not only about marriage but also (and this may be important later) the shiny bracelet - made I kid you not - of the stars which Horus gave her to protect and save her from demons and the like in her previous job as a guide for the dead travelling thru' the underworld.

So far so plot info-dump.

Butler: Beard of evil, breath of Buckfast.

As is the way in these stories something has to go wrong and in this case it's the appearance of Horus' jealous uncle Barry Set (Butler essaying a drunk Glaswegian fish-wife licking piss of John Nettles), who annoyed at having to spend his life in a desert wearing a skirt and sandles has decided to seize the throne and declare himself king.

And just to prove what a bastard he is he's passed a new law where the dead have to pay to pass into the afterlife.

Expect this to become Tory policy very soon.

Removing Horus' eyes (son) he exiles our grumpy god to a nearby pyramid whilst claiming Hathor 'as his own'.

As his own what tho' is never explained.

Fast forward twelve months and the whole city has been overrun by hastily CG-ied statues of Butler (partly built by Bek thanks to a new government employment initiative) whilst poor Zaya is now in the employ of the pube-bearded architect Colin Urshu (a Cripinesque Sewell wearing a comedy nose, well at least I hope he is) spending her days cataloguing various bits of brown tracing paper filled with children's drawings whilst attempting to stop her breasts escaping from her dress.

Which is fair enough.

Being a religious type tho' Zaya still believes that Horus is the only one who can defeat Set and to this end gives Bek the plans to Set's treasure vault where he keeps Horus' eyes.

Look, I didn't write this.

"Oi! Baby! Get in mah belly!"

In a scene that almost reaches the heady heights of mild indifference Bek does indeed manage to break into the vault and succeeds in stealing one of Horus' eyes, unfortunately Urshu finds out about their plan to overthrow Set and kills Zaya as the couple flee on a badly animated chariot.

Still wanting to lose his virginity to a lady (you know what these Egyptians are like) but shy about the thought of doing it with an albeit fairly attractive and possibly still quite warm corpse, Bek takes her body to a by now gin and piss soaked Horus and attempts to bargain with the fallen god:

Bring Zaya back from the dead in exchange for his eye and Bek's thievery skills.

Agreeing to the mortals plan Horus sets off to visit his curmudgeonly granddad Ra (an obviously in debt Rush) who spends his days high above the earth flying around in what looks like a wedding cake defending the mortal realm from a massive toothed cloud.

Honestly this seemed perfectly normal when I was watching it.

Unfortunately Ra is a wee bit grumpy and - after a speech about free will and responsibility - decides it's nothing to do with him and goes back to poking the aforementioned cloud with a glowstick.

It's not all in vain tho' as on the way back to earth Horus manages to fill an old milk bottle with the 'divine waters' from Ra's space-boat, which he plans to use  dry up the desert and therefore cause Set to lose his powers.

Or something.

Hathor of hollow.

Meanwhile back at the main plot Set is busy trying to persuade Hathor (in between shagging her) to take him to the underworld (which surprisingly isn't a euphemism for anal) so he can conquer there too, luckily she still loves Horus (and cock in general judging by the way she so quickly jumped into bed with Set....I'm surprised she didn't try and shag Bryan Brown whilst he was bleeding out at the start - god knows I would) and - using her magic bracelet - escapes into the desert where she soon comes across (not in that way) Bek and Horus who are resting up after an exciting battle against some oiled muscle men with massive computer generated beetle heads.

Trust me it's brilliant.

Seeing as she's shagging his uncle and quite happily stood back whilst he had his eyes plucked out, Horus understandably doesn't trust Hathor but like all women she soon has him eating out of the palm of her hand (and any other crevices you can think off) with little more than a flutter of her eyelashes and a jiggle of her (admittedly impressive) breasts.

With the unnecessary flirting out of the way it's time to get back to the action so our dynamic duo tell Hathor of their plan to break into Set's pyramid.

Being blokes tho' they haven't really thought the plan thru' so it's up to Hathor to remind them that they'll need to answer the tricky riddle set by the sphinx if they wish to survive the quest.

To this end the group heads off to the library of the god of wisdom Tim Thoth (The Black Panther himself - the Marvel one that is not notorious kidnapper and murderer Donald Neilson, Boseman) in order to recruit him to solve not only solve the riddle but to up the minority quota so the film doesn't suffer at the hands of the PC press or overweight online crusaders.

Oh right.

Insert amusing caption here....but not your cock obviously, he'd probably tear it off.

Quickly arriving at Set's shrine (it's almost like the whole thing is set in a large cupboard), they quickly bamboozle the sphinx and effortlessly reach the source of Set's power but realising that there's still over an hour left to fill Set turns up and confuses Bek with logic before destroying the flask of divine water and stealing Thoth's brain.

Luckily he leaves his annoying lisp and ludicrous glittery dress to rot in the desert.

Just as it appears that all is lost Horus surprisingly manages to save Hathor and Bek giving our motley crew time to learn a lesson in humility whilst Hathor energetically jiggles the sand from between her breasts.

With Horus sorry for saying he'd raise Zaya from the dead and suddenly admitting his feelings for Hathor there's just enough time for a wee bit of selfless sacrifice before the story can start rushing toward a climax and this sacrifice comes in the form of Hathor giving Bek her protective bracelet before calling Anubis to take him to Zaya.

Cue a gaggle of boob-goosing CGI spooks that appear from the sands to drag Hathor to the underworld as Horus, realizing too late that he still loves her, stand stoically as a single tear runs down his cheek from his one good eye.

Drama doesn't get any more affecting than this.

Meanwhile back at BadMan HQ Set, now in possession of Thoth's brain, Osiris's heart, one of Horus' eyes and the wings from Irene the Goddess of protection uses a massive (in general terms) Meccano tower to attach these parts to his body like some giant, knock-off (and slightly gay - Transformer before heading off to see his dad to ask him if he loves him or not.

If he's anything like mine he'd be better of waiting at home for an abusive email or two, it's much easier on the legs and takes much less effort.

Families eh? Gotta love 'em!

Anyway back to Egypt (in a non-EDL way obviously) where Ra, upon hearing his sons frankly embarrassing whining claims that all of Set's prior mistreatments/suffering and lack of any charisma whatsoever were actually tests preparing him for his true role in life.

Which is I hear you ask?

Why to take Ra's place as the defender of the earth (defenders!) aboard the massive floating cake and spend eternity fighting against the huge cloud thing.

Come to think of it I'd prefer the massive fuck off I got if I'm honest so I'm siding with Set on this one.

Tho' setting fire to his dad and destroying the afterlife so he can be immortal is probably taking it a wee bit too far.

I don't know tho'....

Forcibly taking his dad's huge and fiery spear of power Set heads back to his favourite armchair to watch with glee as the cloud monster begins to consume both the mortal and underword realms.

Which is nice.

Let's be honest...what's more far fetched? Giant flying Bird Gods buzzing around shooting fire bolts at each other or the fact that they'd let a woman wander the streets like this in Egypt?

Back in the underworld Bek finds Zaya who, being a typical woman has now changed her mind about going to the afterlife unless her boyfriend goes with her (yes she is in fact wanting him to die with her rather than cry for a bit then get on with life) but luckily everything goes to pot before Bek can totally comprehend what she's saying due to a massive cloud smashing everything to pieces in a way that massive clouds normally don't.

Bek returns to the mortal world and has a wee chat with Horus about responsibility and the like and how Zaya - even tho' she's dead thinks it'd be a good idea if Horus quit moping about and just got on with killing his uncle.

Horus after much chin-stroking agrees setting the scene for a slightly meaningless and computer rendered fight to the death.....

From Alex Proyas, the director of The Crow, Dark City and, um, I Robot comes quite possibly the greatest giant flying Egyptian Gods movie since 2004's Immortel and a film that proudly wears it's Harryhausen-inspired heart on it's sleeve.

Unfortunately it left it's brain somewhere down the back of Michael Bay's couch.

But heyho you can't have everything.

Saying that tho' when a film features over-sized shape-shifting deities and a guest appearance by Dune's sandworms (being ridden I kid you not by bikini clad Amazonian babes) and a giant shit-encrusted cat setting riddles for no reason other than they can  alongside Gerard Butler channelling Groundskeeper Willie and probably the greatest and smoothest cleavages ever brought to the big screen (in 3-D Imax no less) then you at least have to admire Proyas' conviction to the project.

If not questioning his sanity at the same time.

Played out with the type of conviction usually reserved for Tony Blair at an arms fair and with ne'er  a hint of irony or camp Gods of Egypt is in tandem both a work of utter mind-bending genius and total ball-crushing madness that deserves to be seen, rewatched and worshipped as the pinnacle of so bad yet brilliantly bonkers movie-making.

 

"I've got something to put in you!"

 

 

 

And don't let the internet haters put you off....it's not whitewashing when your actors are playing imaginary 8 foot high flying demigods from space and anyone who says otherwise is either very silly or very lonely.

Either way they need our pity.

What next?

Superhero movie posters being pulled for offending one of the stars of the Conan remake?

Oh right.

Cinematic gold.