hard days shite.

It's the final day of the cadaver countdown in honour of the upcoming Weekend Of The Dead and I've saved the best till last.

And by that I mean I'd forgotten to post a review before heading to Manchester on Friday so upon arrival home late Sunday night I looked at my blog and randomly picked the first zombie film I came across.

As in to (re)post not masturbate to.

That'd be over the undead Jacqueline Pearce in Plague of The Zombies if you must know.

Anyway, without further ado.... 

Day of The Dead (2008)
Dir: Steve Miner.
Cast: Nick Cannon, Mena Suvari, Christa Campbell, Michael Welch, AnnaLynne McCord, Stark Sands, Matt Rippy, Ian McNeice, Robert Rais, Linda Marlowe and Ving Rhames.

Sorry mate, 'D' day was back in '85
when they released the original.

Somewhere in sunny Colorado, a group of hot 'n' horny (but none nude) 'teens' are making out in an abandoned warehouse but when one of them develops a nosebleed and snotters a big red bogie on his dates chest they all decide to go home.

Annoyed at having her cleavage messed up, the slutty/punky one decides to walk home thru' the woods alone.


Yes, it's that clichéd.


Meanwhile bald badass mofo Captain Nick Rhodes (Rhames, undisputed king of the Romero remake) and his tiny second in command Sarah (Mena "My illustrious career" Suvari) are trying to stop folk leaving town, Rhodes by shouting "Halt mutha fuckah" at everyone and Sarah by smiling wetly and pointing them in the direction of the hospital.

You see, it appears that a scary nosebleed virus has hit and the army are trying to contain it by putting up roadblocks, dishing out tissues and telling everyone to sit with their heads tilted back.

A bald bad ass mother fuckin'
son of a bitch yesterday.

Wise crackin' Private Salazar (Cannon) is drafted in to help his army buds  - and from his performance, put back the quality of well written black characters by about 30 years - as is Private Bud Crane (Sands) a veggie geek with a crush on Sarah.

Turns out tho' that Sarah is more concerned about her ailing mum than helping folk get medical assistance so she decides to commandeer a jeep (with Bud along for the ride and a for a wee bit of character building chat) to head home and get her to the hospital.

On arrival she finds her big chinned brother Trevor (Welch) making out on the sofa with the interestingly haired (yet pointed faced) Nina (McCord). Yup that's right, they were two of those 'teens' at the films beginning (will the location of the deserted warehouse become important later?) and to top it all it seems that brother and sis have 'issues', which involves the pair huffing and tutting for five minutes whilst their mum coughs a lot in the upstairs bedroom.
Bud suggests that they should maybe deal with their anger issues later (right now it's the issues with this utterly shite script that need dealing with) and bundles everyone into the Jeep for the trip to the outpatients where they find an even grumpier Rhodes (and scarily an even more jive-talking Salazar) stomping about and cussing at the mob of ill people slumped in their seats holding hankies up to their noses.

McCord: Interesting hair, crap top.

Without warning (and in an embarrassing frenzy of shite CGI and squelching noises) the nosebleed victims suddenly stop breathing, very quickly obtain joke show quality Halloween masks and transmute into zombies!

Laugh and indeed now.

But not just any old zombies oh no, these beasts can 'run' really fast (thanks to cranking up the camera speed-a trick not seen since The Keystone Cops), drive cars, shoot guns and hang off the ceiling (in what looks like a tribute to the old Spectrum game Manic Miner if the FX are anything to go by) plus if that's not enough they even dissolve into crappy CG dust when killed!

We are so lucky to have this film aren't we?

Mena moody.

Obviously it's all gets a wee bit fraught in the hospital what with all the zombies, Rhodes shouting "Mutha fuckah" at everyone (and everything), Sarah looking confused (as if Mena is thinking how the hell did I go from American Beauty to this) whilst Salazar does that hip-hop hand thing a lot and Bud just looks on in a daze (at least he doesn't have a career to ruin) so it's quite lucky when the mysterious Dr. Johnny Logan (Rippy - the other Captain Jack in Torchwood and a man I recognized as having once chatted to me about Pee Wee Herman when he was a member of The Reduced Shakespeare Company) promptly appears from nowhere and tells everyone to barricade themselves into a cupboard.

Unfortunately whilst frantically making space by throwing out all the boxes of Tip-Ex and the like Rhodes is overcome by a horde of the undead and bitten.



To death.

 Jehovah!

In a plot twist that I didn't see coming (a bit like your mum) the cupboard has a hole in the back that somehow leads to the cellar.

A cellar that bizarrely enough has windows.

Bravo set designer.

Catching her breath (but not a quick look at the reviews) Sarah remembers that Rhodes still has the car keys, so volunteers to lead everyone back into the cupboard in order to retrieve them. 

Unfortunately Rhodes re-animates and bites Bud whilst in the confusion Logan steals a car and leaves them to it.

Don't worry too much tho' as luckily our hapless band - after a rather lackluster fight against the cast of Michael Jackson's Thriller video - manage escape in Rhodes Jeep.
Meanwhile Trev and Nina (remember them? - no me neither) have also escaped from the hospital and are currently dodging zombies, cars, good taste and the like whilst looking for a place to hide.

Tho' whether it's from the zombies or from their families after making this shite we're never told.

As luck would have it portly town DJ Paul Morley (Doctor Who star McNeice) is still broadcasting and being a nice man, lets them into the studio - on the condition that they're not zombies of course -  where they also find the shot to fuck Mr and Mrs. Leitner (Rais and the lovely Campbell,  star of 2001 Maniacs and Kraken amongst others) who seem to spend most of their time gazing longingly at each other whilst Mrs. L sits coughing on the sofa whilst shouting "It's not the virus it's my allergies!"


Hmmmm....

Campbell: allergies.

As chaos and bad editing rage all around them, Sarah, Salazar and Bud drive to the nearest gun shop to get 'tooled up' (as I think the youngsters say) before thinking of a way to escape from town.

And hopefully their contracts.

The Living Daylights of the Dead.

Heading back to the car Sarah is hit by a double-whammy of a surprise.

Firstly she hears her brother broadcasting (well begging and whining like a small girl) for help from the radio station and then turns round to see that Bud has become a zombie.

It's a bit of good luck then that he was vegetarian when he was alive (see? it was important) because he's refusing to eat his pals and is content to sitting in the back of the Jeep making doe eyes at Sarah.

Aaaaahhh.....sweet.

Come to think of it tho' there's hardly enough meat on Mena Suvari to make it worth his while.

Holby Christmas party, 1987.

Anyway, they rescue Trev and Nina (but not before Mrs. Leitner has gone loco and eaten her hubbie and Paul) and head towards the town border because it's a scientific fact that man made viruses can't cross city council lines. 

The plan gets thrown to the wind tho' when a zombie headbuts the windscreen causing them to hit a tree.

There only hope of refuge now? the old abandoned building from the movies beginning.


See? 

They don't just throw this crap together.

As it happens it turns out to be an old missile silo cum secret research lab - every town should have one - headed up by the enigmatic Logan who, it appears has been experimenting with a way of shutting down enemy combatants nervous systems (he should show them this shite, that'd work) but alas has accidentally made zombies instead.

The bad man.

Suvari: meat free.

Will our brave band escape or will the zombies take over the world?

Honestly I really didn't care.
I mean c'mon, if everyone involved can't be arsed giving two fucks why should I?

The only intriguing thing about this whole mess (well I say intriguing but to be honest it's bloody disturbing) is why Steve Miner and his cronies would think that taking the title and character names from Romero's original and then bolting them onto a poverty row remake of Nightmare City would be a good idea seeing as, unfortunately it's nowhere near as entertaining as that Umberto Lenzi classic.

But then again how could it be?

Let's be real here for a moment, that movie was so shockingly inept it crossed that blurry line into genius whereas Day of the Dead is quite frankly the movie equivalent of weeping anal warts.

Unsuitable for Miners?

Yup, it really is that bad.

And the DVD cover is shit too.

I would say avoid this movie like the plague but to be honest I'd rather ask that if you see it on sale anywhere just torch the copies, you'd be doing everyone a favour.

Shit, that countdown ended on a wee bit of a downer didn't it?

top trump.

Well after my lovely tweet from Mike Pence* regarding his fave movie (yup, I ask the questions that no-one else dares) I reckoned I'd throw caution to the wind and ask the same of good old Donald J. Trump.

To be honest I wasn't expecting a reply (he's been busy) so imagine my surprise when I discovered that I was the first person he tweeted after the election results.**

Not only that tho' but a letter arrived this morning explaining his reasons behind his choice.***

I am truly blessed.

Frankly I'm speechless.

I mean who's next?
















*Probably.

**Maybe.

***Ditto.

burqa and hair (raising).

Day 4 of the Arena Cadaver Countdown and it's a look back at a classic.

Yes, occasionally I do watch good films.

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

But not this time.

You've had 9 (!) years to catch up with this so if you haven't seen it already I'm giving you till then end of the week.

Go on, buy it now.

You'll thank me in the morning.

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

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

Newsflash!

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

Isn't it always the way?

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

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

What could possibly go wrong?

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

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

Ejaz: scrumptious.

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

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

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

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

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

William and Kate: the wilderness years.

Could things get any worse?

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

Who also steals his stash.

Thieving undead bastard.

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

Bless.

Who's sari now?

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

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

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

In the woods.

Surrounded by the living dead.

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

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

What a guy.

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

Have they never seen Bio-Zombie?

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

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

Which is a little extreme methinks.

"Laugh now!"

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

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

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

Sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

What a guy!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meow. Twice.

Meanwhile Roxy, all messy hair, smudged make-up and tearful of cheek (but still nowhere near as hot as Ayesha who frankly has become a wee bit of an unhealthy obsession by this point, sorry Ms. Ejaz if you're reading this) has been found by a sweet old lady who lives in a tent just up the road from all the carnage.

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

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

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

No, it couldn't be...

Could it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that the elfin Rooshanie Ejaz could quite possibly steal Bruce Campbell's crown (and heart) as the ultimate horror hero for a rapidly approaching new decade.

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

Sorry Bruce.

Frankly essential viewing and an essential costume come Halloween.

Now any chance of a sequel with Burqa Baby battling an army of ancient Jinns please Mr. Khan?

I've already started on a script if you're interested.

fiddy pence.

Been thinking of trying to broaden the readership of the blog by expanding into more sensible stuff like - ahem -politics and the like but frankly couldn't be arsed.

Before I came to this conclusion I did tweet to Mike Pence to ask what his favourite movie was in the hope of getting an exclusive interview or something from him pre-election night.

If you remember I did this with Nigel Farage to great effect.

Well I say great effect but actually mean that no fucker read it, so you can imagine my surprise when Pence actually replied*.

Then imagine my face when I realized I was sitting on information that could have change the course of American history but had forgotten to post it.

Oh well.

Anyway without further ado here's his tweet in all its (totally real and in no way fake) glory.

After that I couldn't not review it could i?

Dr. Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks (AKA Frankenstein's Castle, Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks, Monsters of Frankenstein, Terror Castle, The House of Freaks, 1974).
Dir: Dick Randall.
Cast: Rossano Brazzi, Loren Ewing, Edmund Purdom, Simonetta Vitelli and her playful puppies, Christiane Rucker, Eric Mann, Luciano Pigozzi, Michael Dunn and Mr. Boris Lugosi as Ook.

Terror stalks the castle when the secret of life falls into the wrong hands.

Somewhere in deepest, darkest Europe a bunch of inbred local yokel types in dirty vests and baseball hats (we call them Neds, you call them Trump supporters) have decided, with it being a Sunday and all, to spend the afternoon stoning a topless, manbreasted Neanderthal named Pedro (Ewing from Venus in Furs) to death.

No reason is given for this frankly loutish behavior other that they must be a wee bit bored.

Either that or the fact that his straggly beard makes him look a wee bit foreign.

Which is fair enough then.

Luckily for our hapless brute, who should come a-riding past but the one and only Count Steve Frankenstein (Brazzi from such classics as South Pacific and The Italian Job obviously getting stung by his ex wife for a new swimming pool) who has other plans for the big man.

Yup you guessed it, the 'mad' scientist reckons this towering titan would make a great starting point for his latest experiment.

An experiment into the world of urban dance beats.


Probably.

"Mary Doll! whit's fae dinnah?"

However nothing ever goes smoothly for our favourite nutty professor as while he's performing (very complicated) surgery to transform his new plaything from a big beast into a fairly passable - and typical - Glaswegian (complete with 'heid' bandage) who should turn up out of the blue but his sensible shoed and bouncy breasted daughter Mary (Vitelli, ask your granddad), her hunky fiancé Eric (Mann the director of Manhunter and The Keep, possibly) and their dirty blonde and even dirtier pillowed anthropologist 'friend', Krista (Rucker best know by teevee fans for her long running role in Kottan Ermittelt) all intent on enjoying a holiday at Mary's old man's pad.


And his expense obviously.

"Now why don't you and your
little friend get wet n' naked before dinner?"

Playing the good host, Frankenstein wines and dines his guests, regaling them with funny science stories whilst secretly sending out his freakish posse (including Genz the necrophiliac ginger porn dwarf fantastically played by Dunn) to steal more corpses for his experiment to recreate the entire rosta of BBC Scotlands' early 90's comedy talent in order to battle the anti-Trump rhetoric of modern Scotch comedy folk like the divine Janey Godley.

And by the looks of it he already appears to have Rab C Nesbitt.

"Whit?"

During one such midnight foray, the dim witted Hans (Yor's Pigozzi) forgets to clean away Genz' tiny footprints and, rather than admit his mistake, puts the blame on the little fella, causing the Count to banish him from his castle (of Freaks) until he finds out - and I quote - "What the Hell is going on with these short people!"

And all without even letting him have his supper first.

Genz, understandably annoyed by this (well, it was kippers on the menu) swears the wrath of the little people on the Count and begins to plot his revenge.

Sitting on a mushroom and seething away whilst planning more and more convoluted ways of gaining revenge our tiny pal is vaguely surprised (tho' he may just be squinting to read the cue-cards - when yet another Neanderthal, this one named Ook (Lugosi AKA The Beast in Heat himself, Sal Boris ) pops out from behind a hedge close to the European/Mexican border on the look out for some top tottie to fiddle with.

Or at the very least for a pretty mooth to shite in.

Obviously after selling her drugs and stealing her job that is.

C'mon we all know what these Neanderthals are like.

"It's awight wee Jimmy, ah
checked the beanstalk".

Anyway, whilst all this particularly un-PC stuff is going on, Krista and Mary have discovered a soothing hot spring in the caves below the castle and have decided the best thing to do would be to get naked and begin frolicking in a sexy manner at the first opportunity.

Obviously this adds nothing to the plot but it does mean you get quality dialogue like:

"This dress was designed to get out of quickly!"

and scenes like this:

and this:

Which is nice.

Tissues dispensed with it's back to the plot.

Genz sneaks back into the castle (disguised as a small doll, tiny second amender or a gnome no doubt) and frees a very angry Pedro who after sneaking a look in a mirror is devastated to find that he wasn't made to look like Wee Burnie.

To avoid confusion with our American readers I mean this guy, not this one.

Sorted?

Good, now we can continue.

Pedro then proceeds to smash the castle up and chase everyone whilst going "Gggrrraaaaahhhh" a lot.

We feel his pain.

Ook, meanwhile is slowly wandering through the dark tunnels below the castle looking for a quick shag, which is quite lucky then that he almost immediately comes across a naked, glistening (and very bouncy) Krista preparing for a soak.

Ook's leering grin, straining groin and outstretched hands say it all.

More tissues ahoy.

Just as you think that things couldn't get any worse the locals - who are still bored - have decided to organize another dads n' lads stoning and reckon that Frankenstein should be next on the list.

Wandering about the forest they soon come across poor Pedro (even tho' he looks completely different with his head bandaged and wearing a string vest) and give chase, following him into the caves where he hides behind a rock pretending to be a deplorable.

OK then a cat.

Surprisingly this ploy seems to work and the angry militia quickly head further into the caves giving Pedro the chance to make a break for freedom.

As he's about to head back to the border our brutish buddy spies poor Krista, covered in egg, sweat and semen (and on whom he has a wee bit of a schoolboy crush), being manhandled and arse whacked by the drooling Ook.

Will Pedro risk his own life to save this beautiful embodiment of liberty and chastity?

Will the mad locals ever tire of lynching random folk?

And does anyone reading really care?

Rucker: bacony passage.

From the legendary director/producer/dwarf fetishist Dick Randall (the man who brought us Weng Weng's For Y'ur Height Only, Supersonic Man and Don't Open Till Christmas amongst other classics), Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks' appears to be the bizarre lovechild of the no-budget, lo-fi drive-in movies of the mid 60's and the studio bound Euro-exploitationers of the the early 70's, lurching as it does between Hammeresque horror and bouncy boob fun.

This schizophrenic approach coupled with a general sense of unevenness and a totally threadbare plot is made even more enjoyable when the action and horror is repeatedly hijacked by scenes of Christiane Rucker's ample arse and Simonetta Vitelli's glorious breasts.

"Laugh now!"

Quite rightly most of the rude stuff is instigated by the movies true star, the pixie like perv that is Michael Dunn. Whether he's pinching a dead woman's nipples or giving Ook a quick lesson in seduction using a kidnapped farm girl as an unwilling volunteer, Dunn's portrayal of the pube bearded, tiny-handed hunchbacked mini-molester is a riot of over the top twitches and snarls coupled with an overpowering sense of sexual deviancy.

It's like a pocket sized Donald Trump is scooting around in your living room wearing your dad's pants.

Plus he has that wibbly wobbly run that's so endearing.

Frankly fantastic Friday night film fodder, plus as an added incentive to trawl thru' the bargain bins is that the UK DVD release on Something Weird Video was double boxed with the Victor Buono classic The Mad Butcher (AKA Meat is Meat).

But that was about 10 years ago so good luck finding it now.

Tho' if you ask him nicely Pence may get it re-released (this time on shiny BluRay) to celebrate his rise to power.

If you can call having to suck the arse-nuggets from a ginger, small-handed sociopath on a daily basis whilst he roughly fondles your daughter having power.

Oh well each to their own I guess.





*Probably.

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.