Tuesday, January 16, 2018

seventy not out.

 John Carpenter turning 70  seems as good an excuse as any to re-share the patented Carpenter mega-mixes.

Get ready for over 3 hours of classic Carpenter inspired cuts, Jack Burton beats and taxicab tunes.




Saturday, January 13, 2018

it'll be all fright on the night (and the following two days obviously).


Yup it's that time of year when Team Frightfest make their way oop nerth to 'sunny' Glasgow for their annual weekend of blood, sweat and fears and I recycle the last god knows how many previews so I don't have to come up with any new patter.

It's not like anyone reads this so frankly I can't see the point.

Anyway on with the show.

And by show I mean looking forward to what films are on obviously.




This year’s line-up of 13 films spanning 10 countries, four continents and 12 different hairstyles kicks off on the now traditional Thursday evening slot in a scare-tastic style with the big screen adaptation of Andy Nyman and Jeremy Dyson's Ghost Stories.

Adapted from the stage show of the same name it stars Martin (the man in the romantic phone ads) Freeman alongside Paul ('Brilliant!') Whitehouse and tells the sinister story of Professor Philip Goodman (Nyman), a renowned sceptic of the supernatural who is given the opportunity to investigate three case histories of baffling paranormal activity, uncovering mysteries beyond his own imagination that lead to a shockingly personal nightmare style conclusion.

Or so the official blurb says.

Expect scares, chairs and quality facial hair from Mr Nyman.



"I am not a number!"


There's just enough time for a change of underwear before we meet The Lodgers (not literally tho' it's just the films title) in this gothic tale we're introduced to (again not literally, only on screen) orphaned twins Rachel (Charlotte - American Assassin - Vega) and Edward (Bill Milner - young Magneto in X-Men: First Class) who live alone in their crumbling family estate, except that is at night when the house becomes the domain of a sinister presence that enforces three rules upon them.

Bed by midnight, no outsiders past the threshold and any solo escape attempt will put the other twin in jeopardy.

Which bizarrely is near enough the same rules I had as a kid except we had a fourth one about not wanking in the butter but I digress.

But a troubled war veteran (is there any other kind?) who is mysteriously drawn to Rachel is about to test the rules to the limit.

And hopefully get a glimpse of ankle for his trouble.


Stairs.



Friday brings us (the audience) the UK premiere of Dragos Buliga’s The Wanderers: Quest of the Demon Hunter that features Judge Dredd's evil twin Armand Assante as Louis, the most famous ghost and demon hunter in the world who, as we meet him, is traveling to the infamous Zalesky Castle in Romania alongside an Israeli journalist, a Romanian guide and a Korean television reality show team in to untangle the evil secrets lurking at the dark heart of this frightened community.

Think Dudley but with better teeth.

Fire.

Next up is Kelly Greene’s pastiche of 50's monster movies and all things Corman Attack of the Bat Monsters, where we join schlock impresario Francis Gordon as his intrepid crew as they attempt to shoot an impromptu monster movie in the three days left over from the film they’ve just wrapped.

From the Saul Bass opening title homage to its highly authentic, comic evocation of 1950s’ grade-Z grindhouse, the movie ended up lost behind the directors sofa shortly after it was made in 1999.

But ace restorer and armchair collector Mark Rance (who brought Tobe Hooper’s Eggshells to FrightFest 2010 and once bought me a pickled egg in a train station) found it when shopping for a new footstool and has lovingly refurbished it under writer/director Kelly Greene’s supervision and steely gaze.


Hands/teeth.




It's time for a quick wee and maybe a smoke before Robin Aubert’s The Ravenous (or Les Affamés as the French speakers amongst us call it) is let loose on an unsuspecting audience.

Unless that is they've read a programme and know what films are coming up.

Tho' someone may change the order for a laugh.

Who knows?

As a pesky zombie apocalypse ravages Canada (the thought of anything at all happening in Canada is scary enough) the surviving residents of rural Quebec wait patiently for any assistance from the government but as it becomes more and more likely that no-one is coming (to help that is, I'm sure a couple of the townsfolk are actually quite aroused by an undead invasion) the survivors must figure things out for themselves, even if it means risking a hideous death.

Saying that I'd risk certain death if it meant I could even lightly touch the skirt hem of the librarian-like star of the film, the pixie-like Monia Chokri so this maybe my fave movie of the whole weekend.

Monia Chokri: Smooth, milky thigh.



And how do you follow a French speaking zombie shocker I hear you cry, well with  Xavier (Frontier(s) and The Divide) Gens  love letter to HP Lovecraft and amphibious fondling Cold Skin.

Phew, glad that's sorted.

At the dawn of the First World War a young man named Friend (David Oakes who'll always be there for you) arrives at a desolate Antarctic Circle lighthouse to take up the post of weather observer but soon discovers that a race of amphibious humanoids live nearby, rising from the sea every night to attack him and his grumpy lighthouse keeper companion, Gruner (the always watchable Ray Stevenson).

I'm expecting The Shape of Water but with added gore and fish fanny if I'm honest.
And that's not a bad thing.

"She-Fish in mah mooth!"





Friday closes with the European premiere of Primal Rage.

No not the one based on the video game starring The Rock and a big monkey but a scary Sasquatch shocker from special effects icon and former Hulk hunter Patrick (Jurassic Park III, Evolution, Spider-Man) McGee.

Lost deep in the forest of the Pacific Northwest, Ashley (Casey Cagliardi) and her ex-convict husband Max (Andrew Joseph Montgomery) find themselves being stalked by a terrifying creature the locals call Oh-Mah.

Tho' not by The O Men from BBC TV's Jigsaw which is probably for the best.


Soon they find themselves forced to face not only nature’s harshness but a band of unsavory hunters (who will most likely try to touch Ashley's bum whilst leering a lot) as they become embroiled in a life and death battle against a Native American legend made flesh.

And fur obviously.

Pure ragin'.

Time for bed now as we steal 40 winks (and the shoes of the person asleep two rows in front) to prepare us for a scary Saturday starting with Paul Urkijo’s Basque fantasy fairytale The Blacksmith and the Devil.

Ten years after Spanish Civil War (well one of them), orphan Usue (Uma Bracaglia) seeks to escape from her abusive guardians and the general shittiness of the local villagers.

When her beloved doll is stolen, it ends up at the property of Patxi (Kandido Uranga) a lonely and feared blacksmith who is the keeper of a terrifying secret.

A horrible truth that Usue innocently reveals.

Which sounds good.

Laugh now.



After all that darkly disturbing subtitle reading it's back to basics with the origin story of Gillian Holroyd's cat and familiar in the film Bell, Book and Candle = Pyewacket.

Or the title may just be a reference to one of the familiar spirits of a witch detected by the Witchfinder General Matthew Hopkins.

Either way Adam MacDonald's tale of angst-ridden teenage girl (is there any other type?) Leah (Nicole Muñoz, last seen taking a bath with some aliens in Defiance) upset after the death of her dad (or is it the dad of her death?) performs a blood incantation calling on the devil to kill her mother.

As you do.

Changing her mind almost immediately she soon realizes she can’t reverse the curse and an unholy presence now stalks them both.

Spooky.

Nicole Muñoz in a bath yesterday.



 After all the demon-based badness it's time for some good old fashioned human hatred with Gabriela Amaral Almeida’s Friendly Beast, which is surprisingly neither friendly or beast based.

It's nearly closing time at a struggling restaurant and all the staff want is to go home.

As they tidy up and grab their coats the restaurant owner sits alone in the back office struggling with money troubles and a desire for more control in his life.

Enter two robbers, the catalyst for a violent situation, which the boss is initially able to contain and even gain the upper hand, unfortunately tho' the already dangerous and explosive situation takes a turn for the worse and as sides are taken all those involved begin to engage in the most abhorrent behaviour imaginable.

Which probably means lots of mooth shite-in.

I hope.

Tie me up, tie me down.



If that puts you off dining out the Adam Marcus' Christmas kill-fest Secret Santa may put you off turkey and stuffing for life, telling as it does the sorry story of  
the Pope family’s Christmas Eve dinner where everything goes horribly (and hilariously) wrong when someone puts something in the party punch causing everyone to tell the unvarnished truth at the already dysfunctional holiday reunion.

When the head of the household turns psycho, the scene is set for murderous mayhem and raw revenge as the family reveal their long-buried hatreds and festering loathings.

Just like my Christmases as a child.

Blood on mah face.


Mexican writer/director Issa Lopez brings us her magical (and disturbing) story of five young urchins making the best of their daily struggle to survive on the streets as they are caught in the unceasing cartel crossfire of the ongoing violent drug war in Mexico in her third feature Tigers Are Not Afraid next, which if I'm honest seems way too serious for me to take the piss out of with childish captions so I'll move straight on to Neil Mackay’s home-based Turkey Shoot/Running Man homage bloody Sixty Minutes to Midnight.

Tigers may not be afraid but she looks like she's about to shit herself.

It’s New Years Eve 1999 and former soldier Jack Darcy (Robert Nolan minus his singing sisters) wakes to find himself mysteriously entered into a murderous new TV game show.

He has sixty minutes to kill or be killed by a group of strange armed men who’ve surrounded his house but what his would-be assassins haven’t realised is that Jack has learnt a few tricks from his military days.

He has a hidden bunker full of weapons and he isn’t going down without a vicious fight.

Or at the very least a violent bumming.

Peow!



See you all on Thursday 1st March in Nice N Sleazy for pre-movie drinks then?

But until then here are some more pics of Nicole Muñoz in the bath.

Enjoy.









Sunday, December 31, 2017

happy hogmanany!




See you all (well all 3 of you who bother to read my shite) next year!

Monday, December 18, 2017

chicken run.

As mentioned earlier I've been busy reviewing a slew of halfway decent 'Zom-Coms' for an upcoming book on the genre (alongside some 'proper job' drawing....wonders never cease) so had precious little time for anything.

Including washing which is a wee bit embarrassing if I'm honest.

Available to buy soon....please do cos I need new shoes!


But occasionally a film comes along which is so mind-numbingly arse that you just can't ignore it.

But enough about The Last Jedi.

Instead ladies and gentlemen I give you (no really take it)....

Leatherface (2017).
Dir: Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo.
Cast:  Stephen Dorff, Vanessa Grasse, Sam Strike, Lili Taylor, Finn Jones, James Bloor, Jessica Madsen, Sam Coleman and Julian Kosto.

Surely it should say the origin of Leatherface seeing as the origin of TCM is actually the film? Just saying.




Deep in the heart of Texas (played quite convincingly - surprisingly enough - by a small Bulgarian town) on the Sawyer homestead, mucky-faced mentalist matriarch Verna Sawyer (Lili - "The school fees are how much?" - Taylor) is busy organizing a birthday party for her youngest son/nephew/brother Jedidiah.

And what is the little tyke getting for his birthday?

Well the chance to slaughter a local hick they found wandering around the farm who it seems was attempting to steal a pig.

Presenting Jedidiah with a chainsaw the family cheer on the boy as he slowly (well he only has tiny legs) approaches the prone pig puller.

Being a sweet caring child tho' Jedidiah refuses, preferring to finish his cake leaving grandpa to finish the job with his trusty hammer.

Teeth.


Jump forward to 1955 where sweet young things Betty Hartman (the Converse-clad, button nosed pixie dream girl Grasse) and Ted - hey fanboys here's a reference for you - Hardesty (Kosto) are happily driving down a country road when they come across (not in that way even tho' he's on all fours with his peachy arse sticking in the air) little Jedidiah clad only in a pair of soiled undies and a cow head.

No really.

Betty, being a nice girl (and obvious victim fodder, no one that cute could possibly survive that long in a horror movie) follows the wee fella to a dilapidated old barn where the rest of the Sawyer family are in hiding ready to drop a tractor engine on her head.

Unfortunately for them her father is not only the mad as a bag of spanners local Sheriff but also played by the frankly marvelous Stephen ("She's bleeding me dry with this divorce settlement!" Dorff who reacts by angrily shouting at everyone before taking little Jedidiah into custody and carting him off to the Gorman House Youth Reform School for 'his own safety'.

It's like a slightly more violent episode of The Archers really.

"Milk it."


With the backstory out of the way it's time to start the movie good and proper as we (quantum) leap ten years into the future where the recently-hired nurse Elizabeth White (It Came From The Desert star Grasse) is spending her first day at work bonding with the patients.

As opposed to abusing them ala One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest because no cliché works quite like an old cliché.

And just to show how nice she really is she stands up for the misunderstood and incredibly broody Jackson (Strike) when he steps in to stop the hulking monosyllabic Bud (ex Doctor Who companion Coleman) getting into trouble for fighting with the buck-toothed badboy Ike (Bloor who scarily looks like a living breathing human/Daffy Duck hybrid and so by default is the scariest thing in the film).

Grasse modeling the incredibly authentic 1960s nurses uniform she wears in the film...or is it in your dads bed?



Things are about to take a turn for the worse tho' as no sooner has our heroine calmed everyone down when Verna turns up with an injunction to allow her to see her son.

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on if you want to watch a horror movie or a courtroom drama) the creepy head of the hospital Doctor Shanga Lang (Adamson who's been in loads of stuff including your auntie and your younger sister. Twice) tells her to fuck off adding that she couldn't see him even if they wanted her to seeing as they've changed Jedidiah's name to something else because it wouldn't fit on the name labels in his vest and what do you know the file with his new name has fallen down the back of the sofa.

Taking matters into her own (very delicate) hands the mentalist mum inadvertently causes a riot whilst searching for her boy allowing Ike and his burned boobed girlfriend Clarice (mother of Reservoir Dogs star Micheal, Jessica Madsen) to kidnap Elizabeth - along with Bud and Jackson - and steal a car in an attempt to flee to Mexico.

Moonhead.


As the group travel between rest stop diners and deserted caravans via various murder sprees, country roads and bloodbaths, Sheriff Hartman discovers that one of the group is actually Jedidiah so alongside his Deputy Nancy Sorells (Former Game of Thrones homosexualist, nephew of Doctor Who companion Jo Grant and Iron Fist himself Jones) heads off in hot pursuit.

Realizing that they've hit the halfway point with nary a hint of sleazy sex-based shenanigans our merry band of bonkers buddies take refuge in a rundown mobile home, abandoned save for the hanging putrefying corpse of its former owner, which not only supplies us with a cheap jump scare but gives Ike an excuse to whoop and giggles a lot whilst Clarice strips naked to reveal what a good job the make up department have done on her burn scars (and also show off the frankly magnificent fake nipples shes sporting) before the pair - unsurprisingly - engage in a necrophiliac threeway in an attempt to remind us just how down right bad they really are but only manages to make the viewer pine for the wonderful Beatrice Manowski in Nekromantik.

Tho' to be honest I never really need an excuse to do that.

Beatrice Manowski: Don't try this at home, again.



As the gruesome twosome sleep off their sexy hi-jinks Elizabeth makes a break for the woods only to be very quickly grabbed by a by now awake Ike who, after making some lewd suggestions decides to pick on Bud instead.

This not only saves Elizabeth from a brutal bumming but riles Bud up enough to stomp on Ike's head before falling asleep on his corpse.

Which is nice.

The next morning, Clarice notices that Ike is missing (she's observant like that) and heads off to find him leaving Jackson and Elizabeth to find Bud and wake him up before quickly running away.

Which is what I would love to do at this point if I'm honest, I mean I'm only sticking around to see if Lili Taylor turns up again - I've not been the same since I saw her in I Shot Andy Warhol well I'm only flesh and blood plus 'tween her and Dorff it's like a veritable reunion.

Taylor: Swift kick to the head.


It's not long tho' before crusty Clarice is apprehended by an ever more angry Hartman who in a fit of pique shoots her in the head as Bud, Jackson and Elizabeth watch from their hiding place inside a dead cow.

No.

Really.

Crawling out of the poor beasts arse our plucky trio make their way toward the highway where Elizabeth attempts to get the attention of a passing policeman who - as they are known to do in The States - responds by shooting Bud in the head.

This sends an understandably jittery Jackson into a violent rage culminating in him shutting the poor policeman's head in the car door whilst pinching his nipples before stealing the by now very messy motor and flooring it.

But Hartman is in hot pursuit.

www.nofuckingneed.com/yourmumsbestgoingoutclothes


In a chase scene the like of which hasn't been seen since the episode of Father Ted with the milk float, Hartman soon catches up with the daring duo, opening fire on the car and shooting Jackson in the mouth (which lets be honest is better than him shite-ing in it) causing a rather nasty crash.

And a wee bit of chafing.

As time passes and the screen fades thru black Elizabeth suddenly wakes to find herself handcuffed to the backdoor of Hartman's car.

We've all been there.

The silence is broken by Sorells on the radio (as in the police radio - he's not crooning a song on pick of the pops or anything) and Elizabeth manages to grab the mic with her feet and call for help but unbeknown to our heroine Sorells is in the pay of Verna, heading out to her homestead to  reveal her - and Hartman's - whereabouts.

It appears that Jackson is, in fact, Jedidiah and the crazy copper has him trussed up in the same barn his daughter was killed in.

Pausing only to feed Sorells to some pigs she gathers her family and heads over to the barn for a final confrontation with Hartman.

FOLD ME? - must not be just the plot that's paper thin then.


With Elizabeth trussed up like a Christmas turkey (albeit a turkey with wonderfully milky white thighs you could ski down) and an injured Jackson lying in a pool of his own piss moaning like your mum at the works end of year do Hartman stands legs akimbo with a shotgun in his hand goading the family to attack.

Which they do and with there being five of them they soon overpower the Sheriff and take him back to their gouse for tea, crumpets and a wee bit of chainsaw chopping courtesy of the by now shot to fuck - and flappy faced - Jackson/ Jedidiah.

In the confusion Elizabeth breaks free of her bonds and legs it into the woods, Jedidiah and co. in hot pursuit.

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

"Put it in me!"


Tripping over a discarded bear-trap Elizabeth is soon at the mercy of the by now deranged Jedidiah, his face held together with a makeshift muzzle constructed from an old thong and an eggcup as he slowly approaches his prone pal his chainsaw wobbling in the air menacingly.

OK I'll be honest he looks a wee bit of a cock but at least he's trying.



"Hello...are yu the blind man?"



Will Elizabeth be able to appeal to her one-time friends softer side or will she inadvertently insult his mum causing him to behead her in a fit of pique?

And if this does happen will he fashion Elizabeth's face into a leathery mask and take to wearing it (and shitly applied lipstick) around the house?

Go on, guess.




The prequel to the Tremaine 'Trey Songz' Neverson starring sequel cum reboot that no-one ever asked for (or wanted) Leatherface is a futile attempt to breathe new life into a horror franchise that's last halfway decent entry was released way back in 1986.

Ignoring the brilliant Part 2 (probably) as well as Parts 3 and 4 - and the various reboots and rejigs since - Leatherface takes us back to the birth of a horror icon (again) in the vain hope that someone (anyone?) is interested, ticking all the deep south clichés along the way before exploding into an ill-advised mess of wobbly mantits, bad teeth, cheap gore and a twist so obvious you'll be surprised that they didn't just add another twist on the end to make up for it.

Or at least an apology.

Directors Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo (who obviously shot their horror wad when writing and directing the frankly marvelous Livide and the not too shady Inside) do their best with the limited budget available and whilst Bugaria does a passable impression of Texas and the cast try to add some sparkle to the hackneyed dialogue it's an uphill struggle that's neither shlocky enough or gruesome enough to be truly memorable.

Or even remotely enjoyable for any reason other than to marvel at the depths Lili Taylor and Stephen Dorff's careers have sunk to.

A friend of mine in it's defence said that "It's the best TCM movie not directed by Tobe Hooper."

Which sums it up perfectly.

 Avoid.

Unless you get turned on by fake rubbery nipples and bad teeth.

Thursday, November 30, 2017

hp source.

In the middle of doing some 'proper' reviews for some legitimate publications which means I've not really had time to post the usual rubbish on here.

Be thankful for small mercies.

I have to make an exception for this beauty tho' as it's become a wee bit of a tradition that we watch it every Christmas.

Curse of the Crimson Altar (1968).
Dir: Vernon Sewell.
Cast: Christopher Lee, Boris Karloff, Michael Gough, Rosemarie Reede, Virginia Wetherell, Barbara Steele and Mark Eden.


"It's like Boris Karloff is going to pop up at any moment!"

 You have to feel sorry for square jawed antique dealer Robert Manning (Marco Polo himself and latter day Corrie mad man Eden), not only has his better looking brother Peter gone missing - kidnapped by a pervy tea towel wearing Satanic cult led by a turquoise breasted witch named Lavinia (swinging sixties sex goddess Steele), we got to see this amazing spectacle in the pre-credits teaser - after sending him only one of a matching pair of candle sticks but, and this is much more important, his attempts at flirting with his assistant Esther (Reede) have all the erotic pulling power of your dad pissed up and trying it on with a bridesmaid at a wedding.

The mighty man tits don't really help either if I'm honest.

With only a hastily written note detailing Peter's last whereabouts - which if you think about it is more than most folk have to go on - Robert heads off to the typographically odd Craxted Lodge in the quaint English village of Greymarsh, which by some bizarre twist of fate and plot convenience is where his family originally hails from, for some answers.

And maybe even a shirt or two that fit from the local tailors.

Barbara Steele: Ask yer granddad.

Driving into town in the middle of the night Robert is welcomed by the sight of a nearly naked young girl being chased by two mob filled cars and with him being an heroic type he pulls over, leaps out of his car and to her defence.

Wouldn't you know it tho', it's all a huge misunderstanding and the group are actually playing a grown up version of hide and seek possibly called run and ravish .

Sounds reasonable I guess.

Making his apologies for trying to punch everyone involved our hero is surprised to find himself invited along to the annual whacked-out witch party - of the type that only exist in the minds of middle aged film producers in the late '60's - being held at the Lodge.

Cut to ten minutes of saucy body painting, exotic types pouring cheap Cava over their overripe breasts, besuited Brylcream boys smoking dope and girls timidly touching each others thighs whilst licking their lips.

Robert, realizing that with all the drinking going on he might actually pull immediately grabs a large one and proceeds to fire into the first girl he sees, blonde bombshell Eve (Weatherell, best known for playing dishy Dyoni in the first Dalek story and waving her breasts at Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange) who just happens to be the niece of J.D. Morley (Christopher 'the kids school fees are how much?' Lee), the man he's there to see regarding his missing brother.

Lucky that.

Christopher Lee tries out Mark Eden's new Ronco anti-mooth shite-in mask.

Escorted by Morely's monosyllabic manservant Elder (the shameless Gough) to the drawing room, Robert is informed that Morley has never met his brother and has absolutely no idea who he is but does offer to let him lodge at the house until he either finds him or nails his niece.

Which is thoughtful of him.

Thanking his host before heading off for a quick Pot Noodle, Robert is waylaid by the arrival of the wheelchair bound local witchcraft expert Professor John Marsh (Karloff, nuff said) who, armed only with a bottle of home brewed tonic wine and a back of torture instruments proceeds to regale our hero with the tale of the luscious Lavinia Morley, a witch burned by the towns folk a hundred years ago that very night.

The party it seems is the locals way of celebrating the event because nothing says community spirit like a good burning.

Except maybe pedo baiting.


How your mum earns the money for all your Christmas presents.


Now that the entire cast have been introduced we can get on with the plot good and proper.

And my word what a plot it turns out to be featuring as it does a Joe Orton style mute manservant with a gun fetish, LSD fuelled dream sequences full of middle-aged men in bondage gear alongside tassle-titted butch babes in animal masks, horrible bri-nylon Kung Fu style pyjamas and, most disturbingly a bizarre sixties style revolving lamp that communicates from beyond the grave using Barbara Steele's voice.

Which is weird seeing as not even he appears to be using it in this film.

They must have secretly recorded her answer phone or something.

Tonight live on stage....One Direction!


It's not all breasts, booze and beasts tho' as Robert is soon dragged headlong into an hallucinogenic hellhole of soul selling and rare silverware that even Bargain Hunt's Tim Wonnacott would be wary of.

Tho' saying that he'd have had absolutely no problem bedding at least half of the party goers by now.

Even Christopher Lee would have been tempted.

Probably.

So, will Robert find his brother and manage to get a good price for the candlesticks?

Will bubbly Barbara pop out of her gravity defying dress?

And most importantly will Robert's frankly over aggressive pulling technique of attempting to force himself upon Eve culminate in a kissing session or a restraining order?

Five miles...roughly speaking.

Executive produced by Tony Tenser, the man who gave us Witchfinder General, The Sorcerers, Cul-de-sac, Repulsion and Frightmare amongst others, written by Mervyn Haisman and Henry Lincoln of Doctor Who fame, based on a story by HP Lovecraft and with a cast to die for (oh and Mark Eden), Curse of The Crimson Altar should be one of the Greatest British horror movies ever made.

I say should be because what we end up with is a gloriously cliched and convoluted pot boiler of a 'B' picture that's so simplistic in it's plotting as to make Scooby Doo look like Eraserhead.


Barbara Steele: She'll have plenty of energy left for me long after you've crawled into a corner for a cry.



That's not to say it isn't still wildly entertaining and worth a look tho', if only for the legendary Karloff and Lee sharing screen time.




It's just a pity we don't get to see more of the magnificent Ms. Steele in all her technicolour glory which frankly would be far more attractive than a topless Mark Eden grubbily pawing at Virginia Wetherell's flimsy nightie with his massive sausage fingers.

Erotic as that maybe for your grannie I'm sorry but it does nowt for me.

Wetherell: Nip slip and side shed.


Adequately directed in a workman-like manner by 'B' movie stalwart Vernon Sewell, director of The Blood Beast Terror - the film that Peter Cushing decried as his 'worse ever' - Crimson Altar isn't necessarily bad or unwatchable it's just that with hindsight and seeing the film as the last gasp of the whole Roger Corman led/Hammer following gothic horror cycle of the fifties and sixties before gruesome realism and grittiness took over that both the audience and the actors deserved a wee bit better.

Bloody Hell that's a bit of a downer to end on isn't it?

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

fog on the rhine.

After rewatching The Vampires Night Orgy recently I've found myself obsessing over the sublime Helga Liné.

Which is nice.

And, I may add a good enough excuse to revisit....

Las garras de Lorelei (AKA L'abbraccio mortale di Lorele, The Loreley's Grasp, The Night the Screaming Stopped. 1974).
Dir: Amando de Ossorio
Cast: Tony Kendall, Helga Liné, Silvia Tortosa, Ángel Menéndez, Josefina Jartin, Loreta Tovar, José Thelman, Luis Induni and Francisco Nieto.

“Send her back into the legendary night from which she has come.”



Welcome to the small town of Cleftplate nestling on the banks of the river Rhine, a town where nylon action slacks and porn mustaches rule supreme and where a green-gilled beast is doing it's best to eat thru' the entire neighbourhood in it's search for fresh hearts.

Beats Emmerdale any day.

But not The Archers obviously.

Every night dozens of angry, polyester-clad villagers gather at the local pub to debate who or what is terrorizing the town.

Luckily there's an expert in their midst, the local doctor, one Terry Von Lander (Der Todesrächer von Soho star Menéndez) and according to him the town is being stalked by a mythical beast.

Sounds plausible.

The Cleftplate men's club annual game of spin the bottle was always popular with the Colonel.


It transpires (I love that word it's second only to ottoman) that many years ago a beautiful lady, named Lorelei who spurned by her lover after he tricked her into a bout of the bum sex, tossed herself off the cliffs and into the murky waters of the Rhine.

As you would.

Well ever since then it is said that she returns every number of years (he's not that specific) in order to feast on human flesh for some convoluted reason.

I must have missed that bit.

Anyway fearing for the safety of the pupils at the local all girls boarding school, the sternly saucy headmistress Elke Ackerman (top tottie Tortosa from Horror Express) hires local he-man and open shirted sex god Sigurd (Italy's very own John Leslie, Kendall, most famous for his role as PI Jo Louis Walker in the Kommissar X movies) to patrol the grounds in the hope of keeping the pupils safe.

Frankly if I had to choose between a fishy monster or Sigurd's obscenely large bulge I know which I'd probably need more protection from, it's almost as if he has a babies arm down there.

A baby bodybuilders arm.

A baby bodybuilders arm holding an apple.

A really, really big apple.

With one huge weeping eye.

Arriving the following day astride a huge motorbike, Sigurd and his trousers cause quite a stir (and a hell of a lot of dampness) amongst the students as well as a feeling of complete loathing from Elke.

I doth think she protests too much but let's wait and see.

You would, he would, your mum did. Twice.


Patrolling the grounds every night with his massive weapon cocked and ready to fire, our he-man hero alleviates the boredom by leering and winking at the girls whilst they get ready for bed.

And being dolly burds they fahkin' love it.

Obviously.

Unfortunately (or fortunately if you prefer stalking barely legal girls to killing monsters) the beast appears to be more interested in killing the townsfolk.

Which, if I'm honest doesn't seem to bother anyone until the creature murders the local homeless musician cum rent boy Tobias that is.

With no-one left to cuddle up to on those cold winters nights when their wives have locked them out, a mob of the towns most mustachioed men march on the mayor's cottage and demand action.

Back at the school shifty Sigurd is having some trouble of his own after being caught masturbating in the pupil's private pool.

Ms. Elke, still not swayed by his manliness, sends our hero off into the countryside for a swim in a nearby lake in the vain hope of cooling his ardor.

"Ere! Can you smell Mackerel?"

Wandering around like a lost child (albeit a lost child with a massive hard-on), Sigurd comes across (I'm not even going to type it) a ravishing redhead in a green fringed bikini lounging nonchalantly on a rock trying her best not to appear too cold.

Having not seen a female for nearly fifteen minutes Sigurd gives chase but the mysterious woman gracefully glides thru' the rocks, her ample arse gently bouncing hypnotically as she goes before disappearing from sight. 

Bewitched by this ginger siren Sigurd begins to hang around the lake on a daily basis in the hope of seeing her again and luckily (with the movie only being ninety odd minutes) this happens fairly quickly.

But not as quickly as Sigurd's smooth moves seeing as within minutes he manages to get his mysterious Ms. into a saucy clinch on a dirty mattress in a broken down fisherman’s hut.

The romantic devil.

Unfortunately (for him and us tho' I reckon the lady had a narrow escape) just at the point of entry a big bearded man appears and reprimands Sigurd for keeping Lorelei out for so long.

But wait, isn't Lorelei the name of the flesh-feasting beast?

Sigurd thinks for a moment before remembering that one Lorelei is a big green monster whilst the other is a curvaceous sex kitten played by Berlin born Liné, from the equally fantastic La orgía nocturna de los vampiros.

Without another word beardy scoops her up into his muscled, well oiled arms and proceeds to walk straight into the lake.

Sigurd is intrigued to say the least.

"Hey Senorita! How'd you fancy coming in the back o' me car and letting me shite in your mooth?"

Dazed, confused and still aroused Sigurd is wandering aimlessly thru the woods when he discovers a shifty Von Lander skulking in the bushes during what appears to be an impromptu dogging session.

The doctor, however, obviously horrified at the thought of being outed as a sex fiend begins to confuse Sigurd with his utter bollocks theories.

You know the type of thing; much mention of the moons rays, waffle regarding photochemical stuff and theories on the molecular structure of things.

And to prove all these theories and how on earth they relate to the monster he invites Sigurd back to his Victorian style knocking shop cum laboratory where he makes a severed human hand grow green and scaly.

He's even created a radioactive steak knife in case he gets close enough to stab the creature.

Or for if he ever has a radioactive steak obviously.

Sigurd is impressed.

Unfortunately before a town meeting can be called Von Lander is violently murdered (is there any other kind?) by Lorelei and his lab burnt to the ground.

Every cloud has a silver lining however (except mushroom clouds, their linings are Strontium 90 based) as this only increases Sigurd's acceptance of the idea that his new squeeze Lorelei could in fact be the same Lorelei that's killing everyone.

Thinking the whole situation over for several seconds he decides that even tho' she can be a wee bit grumpy, Elke is probably better sex material and so heads off to the beach wearing his tiniest shorts and carrying a big bomb.

Insert cock here.



Persuading a local fisherman to take him out onto the lake, our horny hero plunges into the waters just below the infamous rocks from where Lorelei originally jumped and soon discovers an ancient underwater cavern festooned with jewels, gold and bikini clad ladies.

Which is nice.

But for once Sigurd is not to be distracted by such things, he's here on a mission, not only to blow the place to Govan and back but to also inform Lorelei that he's breaking up with her due in part to her habit of eating people but mainly cos she stinks of herring.

What a guy.

Jeremy Beadle: The Revenge.



After a few minutes of inconsequential dialogue and slow fighting Sigurd manages to fight off the bikini girls advances and set the charges before swimming to safety and leaving poor Lorelei to die under a collapsing hill.

Or did she?

Back on the mainland Elke is enjoying a midnight walk around the grounds when she hears a rustling in the bushes followed by the faint aroma of fish...

Lorelei is alive and well and out for revenge on Sigurd's 'other woman', jumping out from behind a tree and indulging in a spot of girl on fish wrestling.

Which frankly isn't as exciting as it sounds.

Luckily Sigurd arrives in the nick of time and plunges his radioactive blade into Lorlelei who then, not too surprisingly dies as the lovers gaze into each others eyes.

Aww, how sweet.

Yup, someone was paid for designing this.




Not only taking liberties with the Lorelei myth but kinda taking the piss a wee bit too, Blind Dead creator Amando de Ossorio takes the traditional tale of a beautiful siren who lures sailors to their deaths by enticing them into the rocky cliffs of the River Rhine and crafts it into one of the most terrifying monster movies ever made.

By that I mean one of the most terrifying monster movies ever made by someone named deOssorio and titled Las garras de Lorelei obviously.

Glad that's out of the way.

The real Lorelei yesterday. Well a dramatic (and incredibly hot) statue of her anyway. Here's hoping it's wipe clean.


Although never hitting the heights of The Blind Dead, Las garras de Loreleiis a near perfect blend of tight storytelling, great locations, seventies breasted woman, shoddy gore and frankly bonkers characterization all mixed in with some fantastic Carry On style sauciness and topped off with a career best performance from Tony Kendall's trousers.


A must see for any self respecting fan of fish-based romantic horror or just those who enjoy staring at a (very) well endowed man for an hour and a half.

Perfection.