the price is right!

going postal.

Expecting the new Doctor Who DVD from Amazon this morning, come home to find this instead....

 

Thank you whoever you are for sending me this empty DVD case with an enclosed note which reads "You're next".

I think.

things i get sent (part something or other).

Genuine message I received thru' Facebook this morning:

Dear Dr. Lamont, 

Let me first say that I think your blog is OK and sometimes even a little bit funny but not always.


The reason I'm messaging you though isn't to stroke your obviously massive ego but to ask your advice.


Imagine this. 

You are attracted to women, like you are now (emotionally and sexually), but they do not exist. 

They existed a long time ago, and no one knows what they looked like (They have a pretty good idea from the fossils, however), but they do not exist anymore.


That means, not only do you know there will never be any possibility of you
having sex with one, but there’s not even a possibility of you ever seeing one in real life.


Everyone else, however, except for a very few, are not attracted to women,
they are attracted to something else entirely.


So in other words, you will never find any porn anywhere on the internet, only non-sexual pictures of women.

Everyone you have told about your attraction to women think it’s disgusting.
To relieve yourself, you get off on the non-sexual pictures of women, knowing it will never get any better.


That’s what life is like to me.


I am a degree 6 Zoosexual, sexually and emotionally attracted to Tyrannosaurs and nothing else.

Women don’t even do it for me. I am cursed to live my life in the misery that my most powerful emotional fantasies will never be even close to coming true. Life is like hell to me. 

I will never know true love.


So can you recommend me any good Dinosaur movies?

Yours ____________________

He needs your help! (and not just in a fashion sense).

OK readers it's over to you.

whatever happened to...

...Rosemary, baby?

Find out at Chiller Theatre April 29-May 1, 2011.

End of plug!

celebs that look like scifi creatures (part one).

truly outrageous.

What Jerrica Benton did after her illustrious pop career faded.

More of the same over at Vintage Sleaze.

back to the future (part two).

The story so far, I've been offline whilst on the run from 'da law'. Finally holed up in a safe house somewhere in down-town New Yoik it's time for me to update the Arena with a few tiny thumbnail reviews of films what I've seen during downtime for those three folk that read it.

The Fright Fest crowd getting into the spirit of things.

Back to Fright Fest with the film that everyone was talking about (well, nearly everyone, OK then four people queueing for the toilet said it looked good and that exploitation king (and ex Paul McCartney group) Wings Hauser was in it.

"That chicken was rubbery". "Why thank you!"

Rubber (2010).
Dir: Quentin Dupieux.
Cast: Thomas F. Duffy, Roxane Mesquida, Stephen Spinella and 'Wings' Hauser.


Cleverly dubbed 'latexploitation' by some bloke much wittier than myself, Rubber charts the adventures of a psychic car tyre named Robert who finds himself achieving a kinda semi-sentience (and telekinetic powers) whilst lying in a mound of dirt in the Australian outback.

Meanwhile a group of paying onlookers are watching the mayhem unfold thru' rented binoculars and commenting on the action from a nearby hilltop.

Fantastic premise with a brilliant opening followed by a superb first twenty minutes.

Which is a pity then that the pube bearded Mr. Dupieux had to go spoil it by adding an arse cletchingly, desperate to be hip yet ultimately meaningless extra ninety minutes to the end of it.

One for those who thought that Donnie Darko was mind-blowing.

And particularly stupid dogs.

Tho' Hauser was good but not as good as he was in Vice Squad.


Territories (2010).
Dir: Olivier Abbou (bless you).
Cast: Roc LaFortune, Sean Devine, Nicole Leroux, Cristina Rosato and Michael Mando.

Bananarama: The Blackpool years.

From the producer of La Horde and the guy who built the shelves for Inception comes the hilarious tale of five friends who, when driving back home to the good ol' U.S. after attending a wedding in Canada (yes you can son), get stopped by a pair of wackily moustached Border Police.

These crazy coppers, looking exactly like an arse-sex obsessed Laurel and Hardy (yes, they are that hot) check and double check their IDs whilst questioning the pals on all manner of subjects before shouting at them for having a broken headlight.

Things go from frayed to shot to fuck when our potty police find a stash of the hash hidden under a blanket in the back of the car belonging to the token deaf teenage brother of one of the group and to teach him a lesson shoot his dog.

Which is fairly unexpected.

Unbelievably the situation turns even more sinister with a couple of strip seaches and an anal probing or two before spiralling completely out of control when the friends are arrested and taken to a ‘special’ prison camp deep within the forest.

Humiliation, dental abscesses, subtle hints of man-love and (unfortunately) heavy handed political allegories ensue.

Not bad but I did wish someone had have thrown a pie at some point to lighten the mood.

Or at the very least angrily violated the deaf boys oh so pretty mouth.

Talking of violation brings me to what could possibly be the biggest cinematic abortion since Outcast.

From the talentless team behind the movie equivalent of weeping anal sores,  Jack Brooks: Monster Slayer comes a film so dull it can only be likened to being forced to sit in a pitch black room for ninety minutes whilst a stinky tramp pokes you in the shoulder with a stick whilst whispering "Hello hen....hello hen" ad infinitum.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you:

The Shrine (2010).
Dir: Jon Knautz.
Cast:  Aaron Ashmore, Cindy Sampson, Meghan (Insecticidal) Heffern
, Trevor Matthews and Vieslav Krystyan.

"Put it in me!"

When an American backpacker goes missing in 'the Europe' (fantastically portrayed by the directors garden) a motley band of journalists led by the scarily squared faced, Real Doll made flesh Cindy (Swamp Devil, High Plains Invaders) Sampson trace his last known whereabouts to the small Polish village of Alvaina.

Aye, right.

Arriving in the village our wooden topped trio fail to notice not only it's similarity to Ohio but also the fact that the residents (all eight of them) are speaking in a made up language.

They do, however manage to spot a huge CGI fog bank hovering in the distance tho' when they try to ask the locals about it they’re chased away to cries of "Ooglestamp!".

Nope not even worth shite-ing in.

Taking this to mean 'go and take a look at the demonic papier mache monster statue that will possess you in the fog' the three head off to the spooky mist bank where, surprise surprise a couple of them get possessed and stuff.

Cue fifty five minutes of absolutely fuck all and and ending so obvious you could see it from space.

Note to Mr. Knautz, please just stop.

De Mornay: you would. Twice.

From the depths of the cinematic sewer to a surprisingly good re-imagining of a 'B' roll classic. Well I say classic, the film no-one was excited about but everyone loved;

Mother's Day (2010).
Dir: Darren Lynn Bousman.

Cast: Rebecca De Mornay, jaime King, Shawn Ashmore, the absolutely yumsome Deborah Ann Woll and Patrick Flueger.

Geri farted...and it was an eggy one.

Fleeing from a botched bank robbery (is there any other kind?) the notorious Koffin brothers; Ike, Johnny and the lead-filled stomached Addley brothers are racing back to their mums house for tea and sympathy.

Unfortunately the non too bright bro's have forgotten the slightly important fact that poor old mum’s house has been sold to a slightly annoying yuppie couple who just happen to be holding a housewarming party that very night.

What are the chances eh?

Taking the house-guests hostage and smashing a vase, the boys lock them in the basement before indulging in a spot of humiliation and mentalism as they wait for the arrival of mummy dearest and their incredibly hot (and not to mention incredibly ginger) sister Lydia.

Deborah Ann Woll: fitter than Jesus.

It's only on mum's arrival that the battered, bewigged and bruised guests realize that she’s the family’s most dangerous member who'll do anything to protect her kin.

Taking the originals title and binning the rest, Bousman surprises us all after directing the yawnful Saw II, III and IV by showing he can, in fact make a rip-roaringly intense shocker that's as fun as it is intense.

Perfect for those family get togethers, your gran would love it.

Unless she's dead obviously.

And now we reach the weekend's final treat, the full length version of Jason Eisener's SxSW Festival winning fake trailer featuring the adventures of a stinky bum and his shiny gun.

Hobo With A Shotgun (2010).
Dir: Jason Eisener.

Cast: Rutger Hauer, Gregory Smith, Brian Downey, Nick ("I've, er, made a mistake".) Bateman and cute just not as much as Deborah Ann Woll tho' I wouldn't kick her out of bed for soiling my sheets Molly Dunsworth.

Lord Jamie of Bridle taking a photo of a man having his photo taken with director Eisener and therefore braking down the fourth wall.

Those of us worried that a one joke trailer wouldn't stretch to a full feature had our fears alleviated within minutes of Eisener's lo-fi lampoon of rowdy, rampage, revenge flicks starting, largely thanks to the directors infectious intro but mainly due to the movie being bloody good fun.

Brightly coloured and noisy as hell, the plot follows the (mis)adventures of Hauer's nameless, lawnmower obsessed tramp who, on arriving in a new city via The Littlest Hobo express, finds himself trapped in a quagmire of rampant criminality and urban chaos overseen by the deliciously evil and scarily slick quiffed Drake.

Dunsworth: tight creamy tummy and legs you could ski down.

Trapped in an urban landscape filled to the brim with with corrupt cops, big hatted pimps, under-age prostitutes and paedophile Santas, Hauer decides to clean up the streets the only way he knows how; with a second hand 20-gauge shotgun.

"You chase me now!"

Aided by the plucky ex-prostitute Abby and his unnerving knowledge of bears, it's not long before our homeless hero has to face the dastardly Drake in an arena of death where only one man will be left standing.

Oh and with a head.

Funnier than bowel cancer and twice as colourful, Hobo With A Shotgun won over it's audience with it's cheap and cheerful charm alongside the directors obvious love for cinematic cheese.

Toptastic.

Still to come:

A long list of dead folk and some more film stuff.

timewaster.

And for those of you who were wondering how I filled my interwebless time?

You're welcome.

back to the future (part one).

In the words of the late, great Paul Gadd “Hello! Hello! It's good to be back!”.

After what seems like an eternity in the interwebless wilderness Virgin Media have decided that it's finally time to reconnect me to the world wide web, which means everyone else's connection speed will drop dramatically (again) as I cruise the ether catching up on all the dodgy cinema, comic porn, dead celebrities and piss fetish films I’ve missed over the last few months as well as recounting my various cinematic adventures at Fright Fest, why Kucch To Hai is possibly the best remake ever made as well as the pro's and cons of having a six foot stone swastika from Outpost 2 in your garden. 

"Did you miss me?"

So without further ado here's a quick catch up for you all beginning with:

Glasgae's very own Fright Fest '11 threw up (literally in some cases) a few shiny gems and a film so arse numblingly atrocious that it even beat Outcast in the "what's the fucking point?" case.

Not only that but it caused a cripple to stand up from his wheelchair and walk out of the cinema.

No, really.

This years line up consisted of:

Little Deaths (2010)

Dir: Sean Hogan, Andrew Parkinson and Simon Rumley.
Cast: Luke de Lacey, Siubhan Harrison, Holly Lucas and a dog.

"Shite in mah mooth now you bastard!"

Three films about violent shagging, mentalists, spunky stains, men with monster cocks and Nazi sperm banks. 

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on who you ask, which in this case was the audience) I missed this classic as I spent the entire running time trying to get served at the bar.

But fear not because I did catch:

I Saw The Devil (2010).

Dir: Kim Ji-woon.

Cast: Byung-Hyun Lee and Min-Sik Choy.

Much like having a drunken, stereophonic bar room brawl forcibly projected onto your retinas, Mr. Kim's black as Shaft serial killer cum raving revenge saga begins with sexy secret service agent Byung-Hyun Lee's fiancée being savagely murdered by that teddy bear faced bloke from Old Boy (Min-Sik Choy). 

Which was nice.

But tracking down the killer isn't enough for our hero who, using some nifty miniature spy gadgets begins to track the mangy mentalist, jumping in to kick seven shades of shit out of him just as he's about to commit any more crimes.

For ninety minutes.

Bonkers, brutal and barking in equal measures, a cold shower is recommended after viewing to clean away the grimy residue that the movie leaves on your skin.

And I mean that as a compliment.

"It's not an automatic is it?"

Rounding off Friday night was the frankly fantastic Machete Maidens Unleashed, director Mark (Not Quite Hollywood) Hartley's loving tribute to the Filipino exploitation genre that defined cult cinema for those of us of a certain age.

This ocumentary had it all; the one and only Weng Weng, shitly constructed monsters and Pam Grier with a flick knife!

Plus vaguely amusing comments from Sir Roger of Corman, directors Eddie Romero, Steve Carver and Jack Hill plus hotties Celeste Yarnall and Colleen Camp. 

Perfection.

Relax guys, they're old enough to be your mums.

Join me tomorrow for the Saturday selection, tonnes of stiffs and the genius that is Meteor Storm.

Or Metron Storn as the screener disc proclaims.

Missing you already!

movin' on up.

Just to let regular readers (if there are any) that the Arena will be a wee bit quiet over the next month or so due to moving house.

Yup, it's got to a point where Unwell Towers is so packed to the brink with DVD tat (and the neighbours are threatening to set fire to us) that we're having to relocated to somewhere with an underground vault.

Unfortunately Joseph Fritzl's house has been sold but we did get a great deal on this nice little property.

See you all as soon as they decide to reconnect my broadbean!

artwerk.

Another day, another city.

but who lurks in a street like this?

and so say all of us.

the pitt and the pendulous.

A quick tribute.

Enjoy!

arting about: the next bit.

For those of you intrigued as to the current project I'm working on here's a (very) sneaky peek:

Now what could possibly have scared this tramp?

More later (if anyone except my kids who've already spent the money actually care).

model behaviour.

As someone who still owns a set of vintage Aurora horror kits (albeit in pieces in the spooky cupboard) these ads have a special place in my heart (well, the swinging brick I have in its place).

Enjoy.

monsta!

A wee bit of culture for you now, Japanese artist Tatsuya Morino's unique spin on some of the great monsters of literature.

Enjoy!

The War of the Worlds - H.G. Wells, 1898

Moby Dick - Herman Melville, 1851

The Murders in the Rue Morgue - Edgar Allan Poe, 1841

Dracula - Bram Stoker, 1897

Morlock (from The Time Machine) - H.G. Wells, 1895

The Hound of the Baskervilles - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, 1901

The Fly - George Langelaan, 1957

Frankenstein - Mary Shelley, 1818

 More of Morino's macabre masterpieces can be found here.

hawes in (nae) drawers.

Possibly the yummiest photo of the voice of Lara Croft herself, Keeley Hawes ever.....nuff said.

clowes kinky.

As I live and breath a Daniel Clowes character made flesh.

Sheer perfection.

nuff said.

Ad nauseam.

Flicking thru' old copies of the UK's number one sci-fi/fantasy/the 'orrah magazine of the seventies, Starburst I came across (quite literally) this fantastically PC ad for projectors.

Who needs VHS (or life drawing skills) eh?