stiffed.

Day 3 of my countdown to Weekend of The Dead.

Excuse the brevity of the review as I've been up all night watching the world burn.

Porn Of The Dead (2006)

Dir: Robert Rotten (not the one from Lazy Town....I hope).

Cast: Buster Good, Dirty Harry, Jenner, Alex Knight, Trina Michaels, Sierra Sin, Ruby and a load of other folk with made up names I really can't be arsed listing.

When there is no more room in Hell......
Dead Whores will walk the Earth.

The scene: a noisy roadside in downtown L.A., a green emulsioned, germ ridden, sleepwalking nurse with what looks like  rickets totters aimlessly down the street to a hard 'rawk' soundtrack.

Suddenly a black people carrier pulls up beside her and the driver jumps out, escorting the undead/bored/stoned (delete as you see fit) nurse into the passenger seat.

K-Fed and Britney: the reunion.

Surprisingly for a zombie she doesn't attempt to bite him but just sits down drooling as they ride back to his flat (sorry, apartment) which is bizarrely decorated in plastic sheets, bin bags and newspaper.

The first thing that sprung to mind was that he must have a really badly trained dog (or children) but no, there are more sinister things afoot.

Forgoing drinks and chat he bundles her into the bin bags and proceeds to strangle her till she's a dead undead zombie (obviously) then saunters off to get changed into a pair of paper decorators overalls before fetching an axe.

Or an ax as our American cousins call it.

The crinkling and zipping up of the suit is obviously too much for our undead (and unwashed) pal as she promptly sits up and with a half-hearted growl tears open the guys suit and has sex with him.

Germs.

After what seems like a lifetime of this positively unattractive couple swapping bodily fluids (and face paint) to an annoyingly loud death metal soundtrack she bites his knob off.

Shite in mah...well shite everywhere
if I'm honest.

He screams a lot, she gags on whatever they've used as a fake penis and the scene cuts to black.

Which is nice.

I hope her parents are proud.
Mine are after reading this blog.

I'll admit I stepped out for a fag at this point so was only able to watch the next terrifying vignette thru' the living room window.

And seeing as it was snowing last night (yes indeed Hell hath frozen over) it kept getting steamed up every time I leaned forward.

But from what I could make out it appeared to feature a balloon headed, chinless and pig-tailed blonde having even more sex with three dirty, shite covered tramps in almost clinical close-up.

Sorry did I say tramps?, I meant frighteningly realistic zombies obviously.

Not really being into blondes (large headed or otherwise) and finding that I was spending way too much time criticizing the make up (hers and the zombies) I decided to skip forward a chapter (or three) but assume the scene ended with something getting bitten off.

Probably.

A different kind of head to the one featured in The Monkees film.

By now I was really tired so I'm not too sure if the next bit actually happened or if I just imagined it as the film suddenly went a wee bit meta, transforming from an horrendously bad porn film into a movie about  people actually making an horrendously bad porn film.

Major mind-fuck or what?

I think I'll plumb for 'or what' or more likely so what if I'm honest.

Luckily all this crap shagging is interrupted by the appearance three buffed up, plaid shirted, badly painted (again) zombie types, intent on eating the crew.

Everyone save the scarily breast augmented lead starlet manage to either escape or get eaten whilst she on the other hand spends the entire carnage filled scene naked on her hands and knees looking for her lost contact lens.

Or at least that's what I think was going on, you see I'd accidentally locked myself outside and was beginning to feel the effects of hypothermia.

Nice flat tummy, face of fuckness.

It's not long before the undead notice the womans dilemma and offer to help in their own unique zombie way, unfortunately - possibly due to the clumsy way zombies walk and stuff - this involves them accidentally sticking their manky man roots in her secret garden.

And her mouth.

And even her arse.

The most disturbing thing tho' is the fact that her breasts remain solid and eerily still throughout the entire sorry scene.

By now we're in endurance test territory.

"I made this".

The movie suddenly cuts to a deserted morgue - OK, someones dad's garage - where a skinny tattooed guy (director Rotten) is busily inspecting the corpse of a woman who appears to have died from fake tan overdose.

The fact that she's laid out on an old decorating table that the director is desperately trying to convince us is a hospital gurney is neither here nor there.

Well actually it's still in the garage but you know what I mean.

Sorry I'm rambling.

Anyway using the power of Grey Skull (or something...I was starting to lose consciousness at this point) he brings the body back to life, strips down to his sports socks and cap and has sex with her.

I was relieved to see that his penis remained attached at the segments end.

Tho' my love of bad cinema had been sorely tested.

Good zombie make-up,
hidden man breasts.

Shite zombie make-up,
visible man breasts.

We're onto the final furlong now as we arrive in what looks like a nursery school version of In The Mouth Of Madness, all paper walls and crayoned crucifixes with what looks like a groovy, straight jacketed supply teacher lying dead on the floor .

Just say no.

I say dead but she may just be bored witless by the inane shagging that seems to have been going on for what seems like days but the coroner (who looks like a sleazy Stan Lee) refuses to sign her death certificate until he's positive she's no longer with us.

And I think you can guess how he'll do that.

Yup, after a wee bit of fiddling the girl re-animates and the couple get down to some nitty gritty shagging n' gagging as even more crap black metal (cranked up to eleven) blares over the soundtrack.

After one final spurt show (because there obviously haven't been enough already) the zombie de-cocks the guy and chows down on his intestines as he screams like a wee lassie.

Bored sheetless?

What else can I say about this masterpiece of erotica except for the love of God why did I subject myself to it?*

From the awful make-up effects to the sight of extremely unattractive, breakfast cereal covered hobo's sticking things in every orifice you can imagine, everything about this film is wrong.

In so many ways.

The lighting is either eye searingly bright or shrouded in almost pitch black (which is a small mercy when it comes to some of the fake breasts on view) and the soundtrack, consisting of such top bands as, um, Rancid is probably the only thing here that'll give anyone a hard on (and then only greasy teen boys).

"Laugh now!"

But most annoyingly the movie doesn't stick to any of Romero's zombie law (sad I know but it left me rather riled) and if you're gonna call your opus Porn of The Dead you could at least make the effort to deliver on that title, I mean it might as well be call Tramp Shaggers by the state of some of the cast.

Hopefully someone, somewhere will one day make an erotic horror movie to rival Erotic Nights of The Living Dead or Porno Holocaust (well perhaps not Porno Holocaust but you get my drift) and I for one will be first in the queue (providing In can get a babysitter obviously) but I can say with some authority that Mr. Rotten isn't that man.


Luckily he's got more than one string to his bow as, according to one of his - many - fan-sites he's as famous for his 'outlandish mohawk' as he is for his porn (made thru' his company Punx Productions - how old is he? fourteen?), his famous iTunes song mixes that include tracks by AFI, Authority Zero, Bad Religion, Deviates, Guttermouth, NOFX & those pretty boy rockers Rancid and trying to get one up on (and in no doubt) Sporticus in Lazy Town.

But that may be someone else with the same name.

How Porn of The Dead may have looked if
directed by the other Robbie Rotten.

Porn of the Dead is the celluloid equivalent of weeping anal sores but if you stick with it you may get something from the films clear moral message.

Don't hunt naked for your contact lenses in the middle of a zombie crisis.

Tomorrow.....something better.
































* The answer to that is to save you from having to dear reader. Thank me later.

the return of bruno.

Preparing for The Weekend of The Dead here with a five day feast of flesh-eating film fun.

And what cadaver countdown would be complete with a film (or two) from the late, great(ish) Bruno (he of Zombie Creeping Flesh fame) Mattei?

Not this one that's for sure.

Which is a shame but if you don't like it write your own fucking blog.

Island of the Living Dead (AKA L'Isola dei morti viventi. 2006)
Dir: Bruno Mattei (as Vincent Dawn).
Cast: Yvette Yzon, Franco Miguel, James L. Gaines Sr, Ronald Russo, Ydalia Suarez, Alvin Anson, Gary King Roberts, Curtis Carter and Thomas Wallwort. Stars one and all.

Why can't more films have artwork like this?

Many years ago on a mysterious Spanish ruled island a group of (strangely Filipino looking) Conquistadors are having a wee bit of bother with the witch doctor and his chums.

You see, it seems that as soon as anyone dies they immediately come back to life as pasty faced angry zombie/vampire/general undead thing.

Which is nice.

The forts soldiers are having the worst of it tho', seeing as they've got the incredibly monotonous job of piling the corpses onto the back of a wagon just to see them re-animate and wander off again.

Slightly annoyed by this turn of events, the islands captain decides it'd be much easier to shoot them in the head and set fire to them.

Which would be great if one of his overzealous pals hadn't decided to torch the curtains too.

Confused whether to be more afraid of the undead hordes outside or the chance of burning to death the entire garrison of terrorized soldiers flee....running straight into a band of sword wielding, zombie pirates.

Son't you just hate it when that happens?

Is your hair all you let down when you have a drink?

Meanwhile, in 'the modern times' (did you really think that Mattei would have the cash to do a period piece?) the good ship Dark Star - a very expensive salvage/research vessel cunningly disguised as an old tug - and it's hearty crew are busy combing the ocean floor for discarded Ferrero Rocher boxes to sell to rich collectors on the chocolate box black market.

No really.

It's not been going too well this trip tho' as after 6 months at sea all they've found are a few old tins, a used condom and a bit of wood so with morale at an all time low (they've obviously not read the rest of the script) the crew decide to give up and go home for tea and biscuits.

Of a non-soggy kind obviously.

But just as they're about to put the boat in reverse the team's pocket sized scientist Sharon (the yumsome Yvette Yzon) announces that shes located a submerged sweet shop chock full of booty.

Tho' none as stunning as hers it has to be said.

All is going swimmingly, until that is the crew begin to raise the big plastic model of the ambassadors reception that houses all the still sealed Rocher's and pop it on board.

After a flying start the ambassador's legs drop off  causing all the chocolate to go cascading back into the sea.

Discouraged and a little disheartened for about five minutes, the crew decide to crack open a beer and break out the Pringles before realizing that the could just go to a cash and carry and easily purchase a mountain of fresh Ferrero Rocher and with that thought begin heading home.

But there's even more bad luck on the horizon, a spooky mist has enveloped the vessel forcing it to run aground on a mysterious, uncharted island.

The ships drink sozzled captain, the unfortunately named Kirk (the gone to seed David McCallum lookalike that is Sir Ronald of Russo), decides that they'd better explore whilst Max the bubble permed engineer (Wallwort) stays on board to drink Lilt and shout at the engines in a vague mix of cliché and slightly racist characterizing.

Inside Jimmy Hill's mind.

Arriving on a deserted beach the crew do what is expected in any horror movie worth its salt and decide to split up to explore.

Sexy Sharon, tubby George Galloway wannabe Mark (Roberts) plus the hulking, bleached blond (and oh so slightly fey) Tao (Miguel) will go and search for food and water, whilst the ever more tipsy Captain Kirk, cool guy Fred (Anson, looking like the long lost son of Erik Estrada), shouty and permanently pre-menstrual Victoria (pouting, poppy eyed popstrel Suarez famous for her massive hits including Stars in Love) along with the superbad mo-fo Snoopy (Gaines) go looking for other stuff.

Seriously you need a notepad to keep track of this cast.

Making their way thru' the thick jungle vegetation (oh OK then, a local kiddies adventure playground) Sharon and co. stumble across an old an old cemetery (as well as their dialogue) shrouded in the same ghostly fog that enveloped the ship before it ran aground.

And slowly lurching out of that mist towards them is a shambling figure that may have once been a man.

Well technically it is still a man, he's just dead but writing "And slowly lurching out of that mist towards them is a shambling figure that upon further inspection is just a normal guy who happens to be dead yet walking" really doesn't have the same sinister ring to it does it?

"Aaarrgghhh...this isn't what I meant

by taking me up the casino!"

Sharon, obviously thinking that the scene needs a wee bit more tension, decides to stand perfectly still allowing the putrefying tramp to get close enough to grapple her to the ground (perhaps she likes a bit of rough?) and thus giving Mark a chance to shine as he trips over a plywood gravestone before screaming for help.

Luckily Tao is a champion kick boxer who's been itching for a fight since they arrived on the island, so he's more than happy to jump in and fight the undead groper whilst his two colleagues leg it to safety and leave him to get bitten to death.

Friends eh? I think we can safely say that they weren't there for him.

Elsewhere on the island, the crusty Captain Kirk (I'm sorry, but it makes me laugh just typing it) and his merry band have discovered the overgrown ruins of the Spanish outpost.

Taking tentative steps into the dark, dank interior, Fred manages to go crashing thru the floor, falling headfirst into a dusty torture chamber full of joke shop skeletons, pound shop candles and a mysterious book bound in pigs ear and inked in Crayola.

Kirk, showing off reads a few pages, pointing at the illustrations and making animal noises as he goes.

Snatching the book from his hand (why is she so impatient? Does she have a prior appointment?) Victoria begins to translate the passages not covered in crude nob drawings or shite revealing that the tome she is holding is the infamous Book Of The Dead that foretells of a time when the dead will return to life and devour the living.

Been done, hasn't it?

Beware the binmen!

Back on board the boat, Max is onto his twelfth can of pop and passing gas like a steam engine as his vain attempts to repair the engines - by rubbing them whilst shouting abuse at anyone within earshot (i.e. himself mainly) - comes to nothing.

Hearing a banging on deck, as well as noticing a faint whiff of cabbage mixed with stale urine, he assumes that Kirk has come back to check up on his progress, so as you would imagine Max is rather surprised when a gaggle of undead Spaniards start tottering down the engine room steps toward him licking their stringy lips in anticipation.

Understandably he begins to panic and, whilst attempting to escape accidentally hits the 'blow the ship up' lever.

What do you mean real ships don't have one of those?

Bruno would never lie.

"Ron Resrie!"

The resulting explosion brings everyone running back to the shore just in time to see what looks like a giant paper cut-out of the Dark Star sink slowly beneath an almost hypnotically undulating blue bedsheet, leaving the brave crew trapped on a zombie infested island for the foreseeable future.

If not longer.

Kirk and co. must quickly find a safe haven for the night if they're to survive on this mysterious, undead filled island.....

Or this?

Aah, good old Bruno Mattei, whilst most of his contemporaries gave up on the zombie horror genre after the bubble burst in the late eighties, Bruno decided to soldier on, partly in the hope of topping his magnum opus Zombie Creeping Flesh but mainly because he really, really liked zombie films.

Which I say fair play to, I mean as Susan Boyle said (well she more likely violently spat the words out whilst twitching but you get the idea) everyone needs to dream.

And it was this dream took him from his native homeland of Italy to the temperate jungles of the Philippines via the guerrilla realm of digital video technology and top quality local totty.

And the results were well worth the plane fees.

With it's wafer thin plot, copious amounts of stock footage and rough edged special effects, Island of the Living Dead resurrects the golden age of the shlock horror zombie genre, dragging it kicking and screaming into the strwaight to DVD age.

And it seems nothing has changed except the ethnicity of the actors involved.

But trust me, dear reader when I tell you that this is, in fact, a good thing.

 

Yzon: you would. Twice.

Featuring a heady mix of zombies along with an ample helping of vampirism, Voodoo and a snatch of flamenco dancing, Mattei bravely sticks to what he does best, which of course is churning out no-budget horror 'epics' whose plots are straining under the miniscule budgets involved.

Which goes to prove once and for all that God does indeed love a trier.

As do I.

The cast (and Yvette Yzon's breasts, barely controlled by the thin
orange t shirt restraining them) ham it up for the camera.

Worth a looksie for the first appearance of latter day Mattei muse Yvette Yzon (star of the sequel Zombies: The Beginning and Anima Persa) alone, Island of the Living Dead is an off coloured, moss stained gem of a movie, worthy of a place in the tarnished crown of Italian undead epics.

Unless you've been force fed a diet of David Robert Mitchell/Rob Zombie movies when frankly you shouldn't even be wasting my time reading this.

Go on, treat yourself today.

Then clean yourself up and go purchase this.

You know you want to.

warts of the world.

Women! We must be crazy! You know what they say about women! They bring bad luck.

It's worse than that, Jacques. They're scientists. Can you imagine what kind of monsters they are?

With The Weekend of The Dead happening this very weekend (admittedly the name gave it away) I reckoned it was time to take a look back at some of the greatest Zombie movies ever made.

And this one obviously.

Talking of zombie movies don't forget that the stunning UnDeck is still available to buy and if you are attending this weekend and want to buy a set I'll even sign them for you.

Well not every single card obviously cos I'd be there all day but you know what I mean.

The UnDeck....BUY IT NOW.

So with that blatant plug out of the way it's on with the show.

And by show I mean review.

Enjoy.

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.

Photoshop 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 finger 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 back alleys.

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 get to the island and start work (oh and start the films plot running good and proper) but all hope of this is dashed when, once again the kinky Countess and saucy Simone decide it'd be more interesting to indulge 'the sex' 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.

He's thinking of your mum...

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 hims 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!

Not much you can say to that is there?

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!"

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 using 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.

Headfuck.

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 eating out of a trans gendered dwarf (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.

beard of evil.

Following the massive success of my 31 days of horror marathon (yeah right) folk have been emailing in their thousands (ditto) to congratulate me on a job well done and to say thanks for such a fantastic selection of movies.

And quite a few of them (well one person) were intrigued as to what happened next in regards to Coffin Joe.

So without further ado and by popular demand let us indeed find out what happened post-À Meia-Noite Levarei Sua Alma with the fantastically monikered:

Esta Noite Encarnarei no Teu Cadáver (AKA This Night I'll Possess Your Corpse, Tonight I Will Make Your Corpse Turn Red, Tonight I Will Paint in Flesh Colour. 1967).
Dir: Jose Mojica-Marins.
Cast: Jose Mojica-Marins, Tina Wohlers, Nadia Freitas, Antonio Fracari, Jose Lobo, Esmeralda Ruchel, Paula Ramos and Tania Mendonça.

Mad as a bag of spanners undertaker Zé Do Caixão (AKA Coffin Joe) having pissed off everyone is his home town with his constant raping, killings and eating meat on holy days has run away to the local cemetery after being chased by ghosts (are you getting all this?) and, after hiding in the crypt of his murdered (by Zé obviously) best friend ends up scared shitless by the spirits of his victims.

The pursuing townsfolk arrive to find him lying in a pool of his own urine, all googly eyed and dribbling like a wean.

But, incredibly, still alive.

Still having to answer for all those killings (and rapes and mutilations) Zé is placed under arrest to await his trial.

Luckily for him (but of no surprise to anyone who's seen the first movie), the authorities have no hard evidence and have to let Zé go free.

Heading back to his (newly acquired) castle with his (recently hired) hunchback assistant Bruno Marrs (Lobo, not the DC Comics character) our undertaker pal quickly resumes his mission to find the perfect woman to give him a child.

But being the wacky outgoing guy that we all know and love, Zé forgoes the normal dating channels (such as the internet, Guardian Soulmates and the like) and decides that it'd be easier to just send Bruno out to kidnap the five best looking birds in town.

Well, the four best looking and their lopsided mouthed pal.

OK if I'm honest he kidnaps the five actresses least likely to complain about having to show their nipples whilst wearing huge black pants.

"Fuck me it's Fred Titmus!"

Always the gentleman, Zé, taking a leaf from hit TeeVee show Big Brother waits till they've all calmed down and settled in before explaining his plans which involves torturing them with big hairy spiders, threatening to let Bruno shag them and finally dropping the ladies into a pit filled with large, possibly phallic snakes.

I say possibly because I'm never too sure about that kind of thing, which is why I stick to films with killings in them.

At the end of all this general badness only one woman is left standing, a wealthy, blonde and scarily buxom widow named Marcia (Freitas) who is more than happy to oblige our hero in his quest for an heir.

Which begs the question why he didn't just ask the ladies politely to begin with?

"We've got some great photo's of you without the
hump showing but the bad news
is that we can't get the album shut".

Everything is going swimmingly for Zé and his new squeeze until one day, when our hatted hero is out picking flowers and stuff he bumps into the dark eyed and bullet breasted Laura (Wolhers, star of the underrated Amantes, Amanhã Se Houver Sol) who not only happens to be the daughter of a prominent town dignitary but is as completely fruit loops as Zé is.

Love is indeed in the air.

And from the look of the fog surrounding Zé's home so are a number of eggy farts.

Not too surprisingly her dad and family are furious (tho' not as furious as that fast film with Vin Diesel) and, after being knocked back by the Jeremy Kyle Show (obviously for not being inbred dole scum pikey bastards), decide to take matters into their own hands hiring some bad men to 'duff Zé up'.

Don't worry tho' because as we all know by this point Zé's nothing if hard as nails and ends up killing them instead.

"Don't forget Zé, Graham and his
team are waiting backstage to help
you with your anger issues should the DNA results
reveal that the beard isn't yours!"

It's only a matter of time before Laura falls pregnant giving Zé an excuse to go into town, get pissed and hand out exploding cigars to everyone but whilst enjoying his new found status as daddy to be he discovers that one of the women he's offed earlier was pregnant and not just portly as he'd mistakenly believed.

The thought of killing a child sends Zé into a fit of guilt and rage that not even a tearful wank and a Pot Noodle can cure culminating in dreams of being dragged to Hell by a big, naked black man to witness the horrors that befall cursed souls.

Oh, and a load of buff, thong wearing muscle men with their arses painted red.

 

Inside John Leslies mind.

It's at this point that things start to go from bad to worse for our coffin carrying chum as Laura loses the baby, causing Zé's somewhat tenuous grip on reality to slip even more whilst the local law enforcement folk start to put two and two together (finally) with regards to all the killings and general badness that's been occurring in the local area since Zé moved in.

There's only one course of action left to the top hatted terror and that's to scarper into the swamp....

But has Zé's luck finally run out?

"Tonight I will make your corpse turn red, but
not before I've turned your
mooth a shitey brown colour!"

The second part of Jose Mojica Marins 'Coffin Joe' trilogy offers more of the same mix of violence, philosophy, nudity and murder but on a much more polished scale.

Like a Marvel Comics re-imagining of the character of Joe, the movie adds a hunchback butler and spooky castle to the mix giving our anti-hero an almost Doctor Doom feel and the plot, whilst an almost carbon copy of the first movie, seems bigger and brasher expanding to a point where the character of Joe moves from being 'just' an evil bogeyman figure to become the whole reason for the films existence.

And the horror genre is all the better for it.

Everything about Esta Noite Encarnarei no Teu Cadáver is so unique and different from anything else being produced at the time, from the juxtaposition of the hand scrawled animated credits flashed over a frantic display of images against the classic gothic look of Coffin Joe himself, it becomes obvious that you're experiencing a film created by a true visionary and a master of storytelling.

And if any director deserved recognition outside his chosen genre then it's Jose Mojica-Marins, that brilliant yet utterly bonkers Brazilian eccentric, loved and hated in equal measures in his homeland where he's viewed as either a god or an living breathing incarnation of his on-screen personia.

The church to this day still vigorously attack his anti-religion stance and his ongoing theme of ethical beliefs and religious principles, and at the centre of this we have Coffin Joe and his quest to cement his ideal of man's place in the hierarchy of heaven and hell, violently confronting and challenging blind conformity and ultimately to prove man's superiority over God himself.

Pants.

Tho' Marins would quite possibly say I was talking utter bollocks and that he just makes the wee horror films to scare the weans shitless.

If this is the case then fair play to him, but I really do believe that we need directors like Marins working in our beloved genre.

And that the world in general deserves a character such as Coffin Joe, today more than ever.

power mad.

Celebrating the start of November which a tribute to the strongest man alive.