Friday, April 6, 2018

handy manny.



sister act.

Halfway thru' the Easter holibags and with the twin engines of destruction away at dance camp it's been left to Cassidy to pick which movies we indulge in this week.


Actually it's a pretty good choice seeing as Amelia has gone a wee bit manga mad at the moment and in a bizarre yet fairly tenuous link the main character is portrayed by the famed Manga artist and part-time cosplayer Ippongi Ban.
  
Born on January 4, 1965 in Yokohama City, Japan, Ban made her manga debut with Ippongi Bang's Campus Diary in 1983.

A comicbook yesterday.




Published in Fanroad magazine, this semi-autobiographical work originally focused on  her experiences at the agricultural college (?) before turning its attentions to the misadventures of Ban and her fellow artists working at Studio Do-Do.

Usual plots included fights over who left a big poo in the the toilet and arguments over who is the best artist.

You can still pick up issues online dirt cheap and if you buy the American reprints you get the added bonus each issue of a colour poster of Ippongi - usually dressed in a glittery bikini.

Which is reason enough for purchasing I guess.

Anyway enough of the chat, it's action we want.

As one final aside I'd just like to add that my copy has no subtitles so I kinda had to guess as to the intricacies of the plot so forgive me for any glaring mistakes.

Tho' the spelling errors are all my own work.

Enjoy.

Chô-yôma densetsu Uratsuki-dôji: Makai gakuen-hen (AKA Exorsister 1994)
Dir: Takao Nakano.
Cast: Ippongi Ban, Kei Mizutani, Yoshiki Fujii, Yuuya Fujikawa and Kan'ichi Hiraga.



Wonder what this films about?


Meet the sexily hatted, foxily fish-netted flayer of fearsome creatures Maria Cruel, a demon hunter for hire armed with a six-gun and a razor-edged crucifix who has sworn to protect Tokyo from the evil shag monsters from Hell.
Which is nice work if you can get it.


Ban Ippong: Why? She's done nowt wrong!



Anyway somewhere in that sprawling metropolis the nerdy 'schoolgirl' Brenda (who let's be honest is slightly too old to pull off the uniform, looking as she does a wee bit like a Japanese version of Olive from On The Buses - which if I'm honest isn't a bad thing) is strolling around the campus talking to the trees (as you do) when she's accosted by two cigarette smoking, short skirted bad girls.

These violent vixens decide to drag poor bespectacled Brenda kicking and screaming to an empty classroom where they proceed to steal her lunch money - and her clothes - before rudely pinching her nipples and smacking her admittedly peachy bum.

Brenda can do nothing but moan, wriggle her arse and squeal.

Returning home after a day of abuse at the hands of the bullies our nerdy heroine decides enough is enough and begins to formulate a way of getting even with the bad girls.

Angela Lansbury, up the casino, June 1953.....YESCH!






Donning a frankly hideous pink fluffy jumper (no idea if it's related) Brenda intensely surfs the interweb in order to find a particularly nasty satanic themed revenge (again no idea why) and - surprisingly quickly -  manages to find an evil website that enables her to summon a group of terrifying - if slightly mis-matched and shoddily realized - demons.

Seems legit.

This horrific terror tag team consists of a wheelchair bound old man capable of transmorphing into a rubbery (why, thank you) lizard thing; a housefly in a suit; a two–faced (by two-faced I mean he's wearing two overly large pound shop Halloween masks hastily glued together) demon; a really annoying she-creature wearing Cyndi Lauper's cast-offs and a pink wig; a massive moving shit and a man in a gorilla suit.

No really.

Jumper.



And what will this demonic pact cost?

Her soul?

Her collection of Harry Styles memorabilia?

Nothing so mundane.

It seems that to consolidate the deal our schoolgirl chum must enter the demon realm whilst clad only in a pair of little white panties.

This must be part of an ancient Satanic ritual or something I guess, I mean the film's depiction of Satanism has been pretty spot on up till this point so why would it change now?

But that's not all because upon arrival she must allow the big big poo monster to lovingly rub Vaseline covered vacuum cleaner pipes on her.

In loving close-up.

For about twenty minutes.

After all this hoover action - I'll never look at a Dyson the same way again - the (by now slightly foxier looking and contact lens wearing) Brenda hits town to find her tormentors.

Hang on, wasn't that the demons job?

This pact with the devil hasn't really been thought thru has it?

Encountering bad girl bully no. 1 in a seedy bar she quickly administers a good kicking before disappearing back into the fog in order to seduce a drunk old man for a bout of badly filmed optically censored, pixel vision sex.

Fuck me it's Mark Kermode!




Returning home to her hysterical (and not to mention hysterically bewigged) dad, she knees him in the happy sacks before shouting “Fuck you very much!” at him then storming off to her room.

There's only one person who can save his daughter now.

Enter.....the Exorsister!

You would (like you'd have a choice).



Resplendent in leather bike boots, a 'kiss me quick' hat, Christopher Eccleston's shame stained old coat, crusty fishnets and a belt for a skirt, our fag smoking Saviour rides to the rescue (via 1970's style CSO) astride a big black Kawasaki, armed to the teeth and ready for action.

Meow.

Arriving at the house she sits down with a nice cuppa to consult what looks like the limited edition Anchor Bay 'Book of The Dead' release of The Evil Dead (no, hang on, it must be the real Necronomicon....it says so on the side), Ms. Cruel decides there's only one cause of action open to her and, armed with only a plastic Uzi water pistol she enters the girls bedroom spraying her with Holy water in the hope of banishing the demon from within her.

Unfortunately it's not just Brenda's soul that's at stake.

The demons have there milky eyes locked firmly on the school bullies too.

Will the  Exorsister be able to save them from the demonic sex monsters before it's too late?


No chance.

Is it just me or does her right
thigh appear to be floating?




You see whilst all this water pistol action was going down the other demons have been passing the time subjecting the bullies to all manner of pervy, vacuum cleaner based, panty ripping, nipple slipping, noisy tentacle sex.

And let's be honest is there any other kind?


"Laugh Now!!!"





Luckily (for who tho' I'm not sure, I mean the girls seem to be enjoying themselves - tho' not as much as the gorilla I'll admit) the Exorsister quickly bursts into the demon lair and kills all the monsters with her flying crucifix blade before shooting the tentacled turd-man in the face.

Look after all the KY-based cuddling there was only about 10 minutes left to tidy up the plot so they did their best.


"I love you....could it be magic?"


Directed (if you can call it that) by Takao Nakano, the man who gave us the underrated Killer Pussy, the Exorsister is a frighteningly low budget spectacular (shot on Betacam fact fans) featuring more breasts than you could shake a - very slimy - stick at.

With guest appearances from Leatherface, a monster that consists of a tombstone toothed Japanese man dressed in a turd suit, girl on girl wrestling and hoover pipes on wires doubling for schoolgirl molesting tentacles I'm surprised that this series hasn't been picked up by children's ITV before now.

But is it any good and more importantly how does it measure up to classic western demon-based fayre such as RentaGhost or the Ghostbusters remake?

Well if you can ignore the fact that the movie has a budget that appears to run into minus figures, the vacuum cleaner tentacles, the climactic pan-dimensional fight scene being staged in a kiddies playpark, the dads wig, pixelated shagging, the lack of a proper plot and the obviously 30 something school girls then there is much joy to be had here.

Especially if you live in your parents basement and find the thought of talking to a real girl terrifying.

Which is near enough everyone reading this if I'm honest.

Put 'em away luv....No really put them away.


Becoming the surprise smash of 94 (surpassing Forrest Gump and The Lion King in rentals) The Exorsister catapulted Nakona into the wank-tastic straight to video stratosphere culminating with him helming the frankly fantastic Sumo Vixens with the harshly ferret faced, incredibly tiny headed star of Termatrix and Weather Woman Kei Mizutani.

Which is probably more than you - or I - have done with our lives if we're honest.

Print this out and you can give it to your gran so
she knows what to buy you for Christmas.



Sunday, April 1, 2018

(egg) box frenzy

Trying to do an Easter vibe to entice new (any?) readers  so thought I'd give this a re-review cos it has eggs in it.

Andlet's be honest it doesn't ever get the love it deserves.

A wee bit like your mum.

But where do you start with such a classic?

With a brief resume of the directors career methinks.

(I'm actually getting paid by the word for this one).

From writing for the famous Italian movie magazine Galaxy and co-authoring Four Flies on Grey Velvet to directing such classics as Lou Ferrigno's big screen debut Hercules, Argento contemporary cum shopkeeper Cozzi's career trajectory has been nothing if not interesting.

Obviously you'll have to check out a film book/blog that cares about annoying things like facts and interesting content if you want to know more.

But for those readers with ADHD or busy lives there are three films in particular stand out from his resume, the frankly indescribable Caroline Munro starring Argento/Three Mothers sequel/tribute The Black Cat, the Caroline Munro (again, does he have dodgy pics of her stashed away?)/David Hasslehoff space fantasy Starcrash and the frankly magnificent...





Contamination (AKA Alien Contamination, Contamination: Alien on Earth, Toxic Spawn. 1980)
Dir: Luigi Cozzi (AKA Lewis Coates)
Cast: Ian McCulloch, Louise Marleau, Marino Mase, Carlo De Mejo, your mum  and a big green jelly.




Opening as most 80's Italian horror movies do - with grainy aerial shots of New York cut to a totally inappropriate synth score (this time supplied by Italy's finest prog rock legends Goblin) - Contamination begins with a mysterious 'ghost ship' approaching the harbour.

Not the one from Zombie Flesh Eaters tho', that was last weekend.

New York's finest, Lieutenant Tony Aris (played by the fantastically tanned Marino Mase) calls on the bizarrely out of (lip) synch Dr. Turner to explore the ship with him and a group of faceless (literally, they're all wearing bio-hazard masks) cops, who after wandering around in the dark for ten minutes come across the bloodied remains of the crew.

Turner is shocked, it appears that everyone on board either:

A. was replaced by shoddily cut up shop window dummies covered in cow intestines and jam.
or
B. exploded.

"Shite in mah....oh."



After depositing their lunch over one of the corpses (as you do) our intrepid band carefully creep into the ships hold, only to discover boxes upon boxes marked 'café' and a big green glowing egg under a pipe.

If that wasn't enough to make even the bravest man fill his trousers a strange and otherworldly noise, akin to a rusty tuba being played by an asthmatic beagle is spookily echoing around the hold.

Poking the egg with a pencil, Turner is shocked to see it burst open, showering him and all the team (save Lieutenant Aris) with what looks like a mix of PVA glue, green poster paint and KY jelly that has the fairly unusual effect of making all the non speaking extras stomachs explode leaving Aris looking slightly bewildered and the audience ready for 90 minutes of pure terror.

Probably.

"How'd you like your eggs love?"



Aris is whisked away to a top secret military base run by the, um, 'lovely' Colonel Stella Holmes (Marleau), who after stripping him naked, giving him an old blanket and locking him in a big fish tank explains that she runs a special operations unit (Section 5) specifically set up to combat the menace of scary eggs and would he like to join?

You would....and your Granddad probably did. Twice.




Aris jumps at the chance and, clad in a pair of Quick Fit overalls, accompanies Colonel Holmes and co. to a warehouse 'downtown' where they find what looks like a cut-price version of jive talking Italian 'B' god Bobby Rhodes guarding hundreds of the so-called killer eggs.

As the soldiers advance replica-Rhodes bursts one of the eggs causing him and his buddies stomachs to explode leaving the surviving eggs free to be destroyed by flame thrower equipped soldiers.

I have to be honest and admit that I'm really at a loss to explain the logic behind his plan.

"He did WHAT in his cup?"




If nothing else tho' it does allow Holmes to take a couple of them away to examine giving her time to deduce that these eggs could only have come from Mars and that they were brought back by astronauts on the last mission there.

You see, it appears that one of the crew, 'Mutha' Hubbard (played to angry ginger haired Scottish perfection by Italian horror veteran McCulloch) had been ranting about finding a cavern full of big green tuba playing eggs on the red planet but his usually jolly and humorous co-pilot cum ex-UKIP councilor Neil Hamilton, had calmly (some would say too calmly - as if possessed) told everyone Hubbard was a mentalist.

Rather than find a way of checking his story Colonel Holmes had him locked up.


Now there's only one thing she can do.

Yup, go round to his house, slag off his sexual prowess, apologize for calling him mad and ask him to join a secret mission to South America to investigate the company exporting the eggs.

McCulloch sighs, swigs some more Heineken and slaps the colonel round the head before agreeing to join her.

Well, he is out of booze and it's carnival season down there.

Cue stock footage of a radio-controlled plane, mixed with shots of holiday makers, children in big hats smoking cigars, Aris in a pair of obscenely tight trousers and white socks and we're off to the hotel.

But our heroes are being watched.

Hamilton didn't die in a mysterious plane crash (I forgot to mention that sorry) but is in fact running the alien egg export company and his got something big, throbbing and slimy just for Colonel Holmes.....


Your Gran's cum face. Possibly.




It's a race against time to rescue the by now showering Stella - c'mon she's fairly fit for an old bird - and save the world.

Will they discover the secret of Hamilton's link to the eggs?

Will Aris get his leg over with Holmes or will his quickfire one liners fail to ignite her passions?

Why has Hubbard stolen a plane without telling anyone (to find more Heineken apparently)?

And will they survive an audience with the pant wetting terror that is 'the alien cyclops'?




With his career catapulted into the stratosphere (sort of) with the success of Starcrash, director Luigi Cozzi decided that his follow up would also be a sci-fi epic and turned his dreamy eyes to Ridley Scott's film Alien for inspiration.

Luckily for him (and us) his producers agreed.

But how could anyone attempt to match the cinematic perfection that was - and still is - the Scott classic?

It's with this solution that Cozzi cemented himself as a true genius of modern cinema.

Forgoing the tight editing, oppressive cinematography and top-notch casting of his inspiration Cozzi decided to take the opposite route and with it's Shoddily shot, inanely plotted action scenes and a cast that appears to be sleep walking (yes my friends even Ian McCulloch), Contamination not so much pays homage to Alien than breaks into its house, strips Ridley's classic naked, bundles it in a cupboard and sticks its toothbrush up its arse before getting it's dog pissed and putting lipstick on it.


Under blue moon I saw you
So soon you'll take me
Up in your arms
Too late to beg you or cancel it
Though I know it must be the killing time
Unwillingly mine...Fuck me it's a massive egg!


Unfortunately audiences mistook this brave almost Cinéma vérité style for genuine cackhandedness and stayed away in droves whereas in the UK the films stark realism was mistaken for a documentary leading the film to end up banned as one of the notorious 'video nasties' that your granddad keeps harping on about.

That's right, you could be prosecuted for owning this back in the day.

But luckily not for making it.

Eventually the truth was discovered during the infamous Wikileaks saga and the film was rushed onto DVD to terrify a new generation.

And talking to that generation directly I'd just like to say can YOU find a more enjoyable egg based, exploding chest filled Eurohorror than this one?

I think not.


If you don't already own it go out and buy it now!

Saturday, March 31, 2018

hop to it.

Happy Easter all!

Night of The Lepus (AKA Rabbits. 1972).
Dir: William F Claxton.
Cast: Stuart Whitman, DeForest Kelley, Janet Leigh, Melanie Fullerton, Chris Morrell, some rabbits (obviously)  and Rory Calhoun.



Attention! Attention! There is a herd of killer rabbits headed this way and we desperately need your help!


Can I just say that on those rare occasions when a movie opens with grainy, documentary footage of big hunky men armed with large pointy sticks slowly advancing on some fluffy bunnies whilst an oh so serious voice over tells of the famine and disasters caused by 'rabbit plagues' over the years you know you're about to experience something special.

And no I don't mean Mr Tumble stumbling about shit-faced in a car park whilst signing 'cheap booze' at an anorak-clad moppet.

Tho' admittedly that would be worth seeing.

And who knows, the great man himself may even turn up in this film at some point.

I mean stranger things have happened.

But I digress.

A wee bit like the film actually as the almost Blair Witch/Alternative 3 style shockumentary footage is quickly replaced by a grainy shot of a field somewhere in the American mid-west where a group of disinterested extras are rounding up a group of painfully bored rabbits.

Indeed cinema doesn't get any more exciting - or Leporidae obsessed - than this.

But is there a reason for all this bunny bothering?

Well yes there is as it soon transpires that the local rabbit farm has been destroyed by fire meaning that the rascally rabbits are all making a bid for the prairie and freedom.

This in turn is upsetting the local cow poke because their horses keep falling down the rabbit holes and breaking their legs.

Luckily the local ranch owner Cole Hillman (Calhoun - don't judge) owns a big gun and is quite happy to go around shooting any fallen foles in the face.

Well until he realizes that if it continues the whole town will be skipping about banging coconuts together if a better remedy isn't found soon.


The real McCoy? (sorry).


Luckily a local pair of entomologists, Lenny Bennett and his wife Elizabeth (an unusually sober Whitman and an obviously slumming it Leigh) alongside their pal Eglin Clark (Kelley) offer their expertise in order to solve the rabbit problem.

But which course of action will they follow?

A. Hire the Elmer Fudd like, gun crazed Cole to go out and shoot them all.

B. Rabbit poison.

C. Use a never before tested experimental DNA-altering serum that could cause hideous mutations.

Reckoning that blindly tampering with nature on a genetic scale is more environmentally sound than poison they plum for the serum, which the Bennett's decide to test on their young daughter Amanda's pet rabbit first.

What caring parents.
The company that make these refused to put "Shite in mah mooth!" on it. Killjoys.



Amanda, as you can probably guess, is slightly upset by the thought of her dad sticking something in her pet so to this end sneaks into her parents lab and kidnaps the rabbit under cover of darkness.

As in at night obviously, not whilst disguised as Justin Hawkins but to be honest that may have brightened up the movie a wee bit.

Heading over to the Hillman ranch she soon comes across Cole's permanently scowling son Jackie (current resident of Chesapeake, VA and father of 3 Morrell in his only film role) who wrestles the rabbit from the poor girls grasp before popping it down a nearby rabbit hole unknowingly setting in motion a deadly series of events the likes of which the world has never seen.

And probably never wanted to anyway.

It's only a matter of time (well it is a short movie) before the local towns folk discover that their carrot patches have all been dug up and that a number of locals start turning up dead with huge incisor marks over their bodies.

Could these things be related?

Well most of the locals are so it wouldn't surprise me.

After a quick scientific natter our heroes decide that the serum must have mutated the rabbits to giant size.

Oh and turned them into ferocious meat eaters.

Which is nice.

Surprisingly everyone completely accepts this explanation without question.

They don't even get angry, just shrug their - collective - shoulders and begin to plan a counter-attack.

You've gotta love those plucky Americans.


"Fuck me! It's George Galloway!"



Meanwhile the rampant rabbits are on the move - in slow motion to add to the menace obviously -  first eating a not only a truck driver but the entire contents of his truck before chowing down on an unfortunate group of campers and finally setting up home in an abandoned lemonade mine.

Following the trail of corpses and carrot tops our heroes soon find the loopy Leporid's lair and quickly agree that the best course of action would be to blow the furry fuckers sky high with dynamite.

But as is always the way in movies like this they decide to go and explore the mine first in the vain hope of finding some vintage lemonade bottles and therefore make a few quid on the side.


Makes sense I guess.


"Lick yer lips luv!"


Stumbling about in the dark for what seems like days whilst the crew scrape enough cash together for a halfway decent matte shot Lennie and Cole do eventually come across the rabbits and stop to take a few selfies with them.

No, really.

Not too surprisingly the camera flash coupled with incredulous cries of "Fuck me! look at the size of the ears on that!" wake the brutish bunnies who then give chase - well give hop - after our heroes.

Scrambling out of the mine in the nick of time the pair detonate the explosives burying the rabbits under tonnes of rock and Cadbury's Caramel Wrappers.

Admit it....



With a spring in their step and a song in their hearts everyone returns to the ranch for a celebratory evening of cake eating, cousin kissing and moonshine moothing safe in the knowledge that the rabbit threat is no more.

The party is interrupted by a knock at the door and Cole, expecting a delivery from the Davenports man goes to answer it.

But it's not a delivery of booze but the rabbits, returned and ready for revenge.
  
Scarily it turns out that in all the excitement of explosions, cakes and whatnot everyone appears to have forgotten the fact that rabbits are actually quite well known for digging.

We've all done it.

Running to the barn to find his remaining horses eaten, Cole decides to leg it to the nearest town for help but on arrival finds it spookily deserted save the big brooding shadows of giant bunnies staring at him from the darkened windows of the local pub.

"Did you spill my pint?"


Brave Cole slowly tiptoes to a pay phone and calls the National Guard whispering the immortal lines "There's a herd of killer rabbits in town and we desperately need your help!"

Will the combined strength of the US military and the surviving townsfolk be enough to repel the might of the Lepus or will they eventually defeat humanity, hopping across the entire Earth like furry, big eared stormtroopers.

But let's be honest do you really care?





From writer/producer/director William F. Claxton (best known for his work on Little House on the Prairie, Bonanza and The High Chaparral amongst other TeeVee hits) Night of the Lepus is one of those rare movies that needs to be seen - with witnesses obviously - to be believed.

Terrifyingly neither tongue in cheek or camply humorous, the movie was made as if everyone involved actually thought that the scariest thing in the world would be if giant killer rabbits existed.

And I for one raise my glass to them.

If not question their sanity.

"Laugh now!"

There's really nothing you can add to the above description as any criticism seems redundant in the face of what's on screen so I'll leave the last word to
Lee Sollenberger, one of the films FX crew who was once interviewed (by trading standards no doubt) about the films grueling shoot and enduring legacy.

"Anyone who has ever worked with animals knows how difficult it can be. "Lepus" was a very difficult film to do. We worked in tremendous heat conditions and had hundreds of rabbits to deal with. It was a fun film for the trainers I think because no one had done a horror film with rabbits before".Or it turns out, since.

A misjudged gem of a movie.

And by that I mean utterly shite in every way.

Monday, March 26, 2018

spectrum sinema the return.

Greetings reader(s)!

One of those rare (semi) serious posts I do occasionally so apologies in advance but thought I’d celebrate Autism Awareness Week (or as we call it a normal seven day period) by blatantly rehashing this handy (and quite small) print out and throw away guide to the best Spectrum-based cinema available.....enjoy!

Swoon.

DRIVE (2011) - Neo-noir thrills meet arthouse style in Nicolas Winding Refn's high octane heist classic.

Ryan Gosling's uber-cool unnamed driver has become the unofficial hero of ASD in cinema, showing that characters on the Spectrum don't have to be geeky and freaky but can be not only super cool but 'a real human bean' too.....The Spectrum at it's sexiest.

And with a cool coat to boot.

DARK FLOORS (2008) - Finnish Eurovision stars Lordi write and star in probably the best Silent Hill adaptation ever made.

A creepy and kooky spookfest centering around Sarah, an Autistic girl residing in the decrepit St. Mary's Hospital.

Trigger.

When her concerned father attempts to take her home he inadvertently drops her crayons and in the confusion mixes the reds with the blue and yellow causing a portal to another dimension to open leaving a ragtag group of patients and staff fighting for their lives with only Sarah able to save them.

Luckily all the corridors are signposted.

BLADE RUNNER (1982) - What can you say about Ridley Scott's dystopian classic that hasn't been said before - and by much better folk than me?
Well how about the fact that the whole replicant plot (with it's quest to be 'human' - or even to be accepted by humans and it's "Voight-Kampff" empathy test among other things) can be seen as a metaphor for Autism.


"Hey Harrison..it looks like rain, man."

The analysis/discussion on this goes much further but would take up an entire post on a blog much more intelligent than this one.

Oh yes and it's very blue, almost as blue as Thomas and Rainbow Dash forced into a blender and poured into a very blue glass.

MANHUNTER (1986) - Michael Mann's adaptation of Thomas Harris' Red Dragon features the first appearance of not only Hannibal Lecter (or Lektor as he's known here) but of top FBI criminal profiler Will Graham, better known now - and officially an Aspie - thanks to the Brian Fuller TV show 'Hannibal'.

Smart, sexy and quite possibly the second blue-est film ever made.
 

Stance.

CHARLIE'S ANGELS: FULL THROTTLE (2003) - McG's action comedy sequel features the frankly magnificent (and undisputed king of the Spectrum) Crispin Glover as the Aspie hair obsessed Thin Man in a role gratefully expanded from the original, probably his greatest role outside 'Simon Says'.


No caption required.


Oh, go on then....outside The Wizard of Gore remake.

And River's Edge.

or Willard.

If scifi is more your thing then look no further than the light blue hued tones of everyone's favourite version of 2001: A Space Odyssey for kids - Star Trek The Motion Picture.

The cinematic equivalent of lying in a really well equipped sensory room ST:TMP (as folk call it) is so laid back and leisurely as  to be almost horizontal with no distractingly bright colours (other than blue) to detract from the overall comfyness of the film and any emotional responses you should have are helpfully cued by the gorgeous Jerry Goldsmith score.

It even has an overture to get you in the mood.

And as a plus point it wins out over the aforementioned Kubrick classic by having the decency to actually explain what happens at the films climax.

Proper genius.

And if you don't cry at the Enterprise flyby then you really are a freak.

"Ahead Spectrum factor one!"
 

But the most Autistic movie(s) of all time?

It's pretty obvious really.
And it's also THE bluest hued cinema of all time.

Especially the second one.






I could wax lyrical for hours as to the reasons for this but it's always easier to show than tell.

Not convinced?

Well here you go.

Suffice to say it's a fact, just accept it.

They should really just name it Trautism and have done with it.

Scarily enough tho' a few years back someone decided that what the world needed was a Tron Legacy/Star Trek The Motion Picture mash-up just to send the Autism levels off the scale.

In a good way that is.

And you can find this piece of cinematic perfection here.

Enjoy.




















Just a word of advice when it comes to judging the Autistic merits of cinema in relation to the colour blue, beware of Blue Is The Warmest Colour, I came to it imagining a Kubrick-esque style Autistic film-fest and was shocked and surprised to find that it was, in fact totally neuro-typical in it's storytelling.

Tho' it did feature a couple of toothy French ladies having sex.

A lot.

Fancy trainers not shown.



 Oh yes and Craig Baldwin's Spectres of The Spectrum has absolutely sod all to do with Autism (tho' from the editing I'd like to think that there was a fair bit of it behind the camera) but is still worth a look if you like grainy stock footage cut into a rudimentary scifi-style plot.

And 1950's flying helmets.



Monday, March 19, 2018

hang the deejay.

Sorry for the lack of updates (this is becoming a habit) but I've been dead ill so haven't been around much.....I even managed to miss a whole day of Frightfest hence the lack of reviews.


Luckily I have an understanding doctor who recommended a diet of David Warbeck (and daily masturbation) to aid my recovery.


Panic (AKA Bakterion, Zombi 4. 1982).
Dir: Tonino Ricci (as Anthony Richmond tho' to be honest I'd change my name if I directed this).
Cast: David Warbeck, Janet Agren, Roberto Ricci, José Lifante, Miguel Herrera Eugenio Benito, Ovidio Taito, José María Labernié, Ilaria Maria Bianchi
Fabián Conde, Vittorio Calò and Franco Ressel.









Something has gone terribly wrong at the local chemical factory -  eminent science Professor Gerry Adams (Ricci, son of Christina) has accidentally infected himself with something or other which has turned him bright green and lumpy with a thirst for human blood.

Oh and more importantly (and amusingly) it's also turned his teeth into Pez.

Escaping from the building and into the sewers it's left to the company president  Mr. Milton Bradley (Ressel) to come up with a cover story whilst attempting to discover the whereabouts of the missing scientist before the press find out.

Calling on Adams' associates - Dr. Jane Blake (Eurotrash stalwart Agren) and Dr. Vince Clarke (Miguel Herrera) for help he's shocked to discover that Adams, instead of testing shampoo on horses and making beagles smoke like he was hired to do had been secretly working on a vaccine for gout (or was it bunions?) and had kept all the data pertaining to his work hidden.

Tho' beware as the reason for his actual research may change later if and when the plot requires it.


Don't engage in phone sex with strange men....you may get hearing aids.


As the trio umm and aah over what to do the by now muchly mutated mental medicine man is busying himself tearing various extras limb from limb, starting with a young couple having uncomfortable fake sex in a Morris Minor.

Quickly arriving at the crime scene local policeman Sergeant Richard O'Brien (little mouthed Lifante from Let Sleeping Corpses Lie) soon realizes that he's out of his depth so calls on MI6's top agent Captain Kirk - yes really - to help.

Kirk (Warbeck....hide yourself) enlists Jane to not only help him find Adams but more importantly so he has someone to fire flirty banter at and the pair head over to the scientists house to look for him.

No idea why no-one else had thought to do that but there you go.

There's no sign of the scientist but it's not a total wash out as they do find his man 'friend' strung up in the fireplace covered in blood and green goo, which is nice tho' to be honest I did originally think it was just facepaint that had accidentally wiped off the monster during a cut fight scene.

And I'm pretty sure Warbeck thought that too.

Body on mah bonnet!


Performing an autopsy on the body (as opposed to fellatio obviously) Jane discovers something unusual is happening to its cellular structure but  to explain this would take up precious time where the mental mutant could be pawing at naked women so instead we quickly cut to a suburban house where a particularly harsh faced and hairy armpitted cockernee woman is about to have a shower.

The mutant - attracted by the overpowering smell of boiled onions -  sneaks in and kills her.

But not before we've had ample opportunity to stare at her breasts and lady garden obviously.

Examining the body our heroes realize that each of the victims are covered in radiation burns and green paint with nearly all the blood drained from their bodies.

Which is probably important tho' by the way it's glossed over you wouldn't think so.

is it in yet?


Bored with all this skulking around in shite and killing random women Adams decides to spend the evening watching a movie and so to this end turns up at the local cinema.

Via the sewers obviously.

Unfortunately having a face like a half-chewed caramel causes panic amongst the cinema-goers, especially busty bombshell - or is that busted bombsite? - Agnes (who it must be said looks uncannily like a young Helen Mirren, albeit one that looks like she's been taking crack daily for about 5 years but hey beggars can't be choosers), who after letting her boyfriend Clive have a wee fanny fiddle is feeling a little peckish.

Not feeling a little pecker which after this sparkling exchange I assume she'll be doing later:


Agnes: "That's just to begin with....If you want the rest you'll have to earn it."

Clive: "Now what do you want?"

Agnes: "One of those huge ice-cream cones from the jumbo bar."

Clive: "But it's too far away. It'll take me ages."

Agnes: "Don't be silly, it's just down the street and it's worth it because I'm going to thank you in a special way."

Clive: "You promise?"


Seriously, this actually happens.

Take a few minutes to let it sink in.

Anyway Adams goes straight after Agnes and strangles her before popping her over his shoulder and taking her backstage for a wee nibble on her neck.

Please note he may be a mental mutant but he's not mad enough to go anywhere near her pock-ridden fanny.

It's a wonder Clive has any fingers left.

And that he never found the car keys.


"I can see your house from here Peter!"


Still feeling peckish but with the police in hot pursuit Adams heads off to the local church where the priest is busy dishing out sweets to the young boys in the choir.

Talking of buggery it's not long before Adams is banging on the doors trying to get in forcing the petrified priest to force the boys into a hole (which makes a change from his usual pastime of forcing himself into their holes) as he vainly beats off the beast with a standing lamp.

You'll not be too surprised to find out that he dies.

Tho' luckily we're spared the sight of his (man) breasts as it appears only ladies get naked in this film.

As a trade-off tho' in the next scene Warbeck is wearing a pair of trousers so obscenely tight that you can see what he had for dinner.

I think him and Jane were having a serious conversation about Adams' work and how he was creating some new germ warfare shite but I'll be honest and admit that the trousers were so form-fitting that I couldn't concentrate on anything except the fact that he appeared to have a baby secreted in his left hand trouser pocket.

A baby with a massive head.

And a spine.

I need a shower now.

Anyway back in London the (obviously Tory) government have decided to send the army (all wearing berets with bobbles on top for some obscure reason) to quarantine the town, setting up roadblocks and disabling all the phones and TVs.

This scene is made all the more surreal by the fact that although the film is set in the UK the footage of the army driving down the street is obviously filmed in a Spanish seaside resort full as it is with palm trees and mountainous backgrounds.

Every so often tho' it cuts to a council estate wifey kicking a phonebox of a garden shed in the hope of convincing us that we're watching a small English town being overrun by soldiers.

Well at least they tried.

Just not very fucking hard obviously.


"Don't tell him Pike!"


The lack of TV coupled with the green shite covering everything begins to rile the locals who decide to storm the barricades and start rioting but this is soon brought under control when the army shoot up a Fiat 500 whilst shouting "Go home" thru' a megaphone.

If only real-life were this simple.

Milton (remember him?) worried about his family being stranded alongside the plebs phones his friend in Westminster only to discover the real reason for the quarantine.

It appears that Whitehall aren't convinced that the army will find Adams before he infects the whole town so have decided to authorize "Plan Q," which involves dropping a bomb on the town.

It's a good job the film isn't set in the West Midlands then because if you bombed that place no-one would notice.

Especially Tipton, a town so grim even the seagulls refuse to shit on it.

Tipton: Utter wank.


As the clock counts down to zero hour Jane and Vince (yup he's still here) attempt to find an antidote, O'Brien and Kirk take to the sewers in the hope of finding (and killing) Adams before it's too late...



Fuck, marry, kill?




Playing out like a (care in the) community version of Romero's The Crazies - or in this case The Crazy - crossed with Frankenstein (albeit one with featuring a monster with a potato for a head) via the genius of Nightmare City, Tonino Ricci's Panic is a threadbare, poundshop production marred by a lack of logic, budget or common sense that's held together purely by the presence of the late great David Warbeck and his spray on trousers ably aided by Janet Agren with a home perm and sensible slacks alongside the frighteningly ferrety José Lifante dressed for all the world like Prince Charming in a particularly shoddy school panto.

And whilst they leads may have gotten the short straw costume wise at least they get to wear clothes unlike the poor sods playing the beasts victims expected as they are to strip nude at a moments notice to allow the camera to linger over their harshly lit tits before being dispatched by a spud-faced freak dribbling poster paint everywhere. 

The things your mum had to do to pay the bills when you were growing up eh?

Laugh now!


Directed (if you can call it that) in a workman-like (as in he spent all day leaning on a spade wolf-whistling ladies) way by Tonino Ricci, the name behind the arse-numbing Thor the Conqueror amongst other classics - probably - Panic scarily enough was scripted by Victor Andres Catena alongside Jaime Comas Gil (who believe it or not wrote A Fistful Of Dollars) which makes me think that they were either having a bad day or someone did a wee bit of script editing before shooting seeing as entire plot points are left unresolved or ignored - the escaped guinea pig that may grow to the size of a dog, the fact that Adam's is contagious - as Ricci races thru' the threadbare story in order to maximize the amount of nudity on screen as he valiantly attempts to convince us that the entire thing (and not just the second unit stuff) has been shot in dear old blighty by getting Blur and Dick Van Dyke to dub the actors.

It's a pity then that the only Englishman in the cast is dubbed by an American.

Tho' it can't have been too much of a chore for Warbeck seeing as he appears to have gone on holiday for a fortnight halfway thru' turning up as he does around the 50 minute mark with sunburn and a new coat.

Which let's be honest is a fuck load more than we get for sitting thru' it. 

Still it's worth a watch for Warbeck tho.

And for this closing caption obviously:




Utter shit but in a good way and you can't say fairer than that.