anthony and the (lack of) johnsons.

W is For WAR! (1983).
Dir: Willie Milan (as Wilfredo Milan).
Cast: Anthony Alonzo, Anna Marie Gutierrez, Alicia Alonzo, Ada Alberto, Jonee Gamboa, Renato del Prado, Edwart Bronet, Paul Vance, Al Alonzo, Linda Castro, Den Montero, Rommel Valdez, Bing Davao and literally dozens of other folk that frankly I really couldn't be arsed looking up. You want a full cast list? then fuck off to Sight and Sound or somewhere like that.

Oh go on then, Jimmy Santos is in it too.

And token Yank Richard Jones.

"I put my ass on the line while you sit back and polish your medals!"

The time: the near future (by way of the stunning disco-fied late seventies) and the mean streets of Manila are under threat from an evil gang of guitar strumming, leather clad, slap-headed, motor-biking drug pushers (phew) who like nothing better than driving into the city centre to have a dance.

Oh yeah and sometimes deal arms.

One afternoon during a particularly complicated dance off the local police, led by
sexy sergeant Wally Lucas - codename: W2 - (moustachioed action god and former councillor of Quezon City, Alonzo) 'accidentally' shoot one of the gang in the face as he performs the macarena, leaving W2's boss, the permanently grumpy Chief Doug Medina (Daddy Di Do Du's Gamboa) with no choice but to suspend W2 from the force and hope the whole thing blows over.

I really had trouble suspending my disbelief at this point, I mean as if the police would go about shooting innocent bystanders in the face eh?

Boyzone: The S and M years.

Unfortunately the dead man in question was the brother of the gangs notoriously family orientated leader, the vile despot Terry Nesfero (Montero in his one and only screen role, which is a shame as I could imagine him making a bomb in the gay porn scene), who not too surprisingly declares all out war, vowing revenge on W2.

Bored with not being able to go around bullying old people, shout at small children and shooting folk indiscriminately W2 decides to break the boredom of his suspension by marrying his mono-browed squeeze Vera (Gutierrez, the hamster faced star of For Your Height Only and Scorpio Nights) in a quiet little ceremony at the local scout hut.

Aw, how sweet.

If not a wee bit cheap.

But you never know, he might have spent all the money on a fantastic honeymoon.

Relax ladies, he's single (and been dead since 1998).

Arriving at the local out of season Pontins, W2 and Vera are unaware that that shiny light they keep spotting in the distance isn't the local dance hall's disco ball at all but is, in fact the sun reflecting off Nesfero's bald pate as he and his squad of camp commandos watch them from a distance.

After a spot of dinner and a bottle of Merrydown in the camps fish and chip shop, our horny honeymooners head back to their caravan for a night of hot love and Barry White only to be interrupted mid thrust by Nesfero and his lecherous henchmen.

Obviously turned on by bushy eyebrows and forest like lady gardens Nesfero violently violates Vera's arse before offering his entire posse a shot of sloppy seconds as W2 looks on helplessly.

What an utter bastard.

But Nesfero has one final act of revenge to perform and in a scene that would make even George Eastman cringe he pulls out a rusty tin opener and (messily) castrates our hero.

Ouch.

"I spy with my little eye..."

Waking up in the hospital, W2 is horrified to discover that not only do his trousers not sit right but that he'll never be able to make love to his wife again (or ever if we're honest).


Depressed and with a slightly higher voice than normal W2 slowly heads home for a life of (non masturbationry) teevee watching and big packets of Dorito's.

Nothing is ever simple for our sackless superstar tho' when one morning he accidentally walks in on his wife pleasuring herself with the showerhead, causing him to fly into a violent rage run off into the bushes where he conveniently runs comes across (he wishes) Nesfero and his band who've been sitting around waiting to hijack the local opium delivery van.

Imagine it....it'd be like shagging Patrick Stewart up the arse but without having to worry about giving him a reach round.

Enjoying himself so much last time, Nesfero gets straight down to torturing our hapless chum, stringing him up before hanging him upside down between four wooden poles whilst projecting dodgy home-made porn at him.

Luckily when Nesfero goes out for a pee, W2 is rescued by a disillusioned member of the gang, the strangely attractive (in a kinda smooth skinned, kissy lipped lady boy way) Pratings (Alberto, an actress so famous she has a Resident Evil character named after her, well it's one more than Julia Roberts has).

Her ample breast trying it's damnedest to break free of her tight fitting leather waistcoat Pratings breathlessly explains to W2 how, thanks to the evils of drugs  Nesfero has gone from being a slightly camp street dancer to an evil rapist with delusions of devilness.

See kids, drugs DO screw you up.

Worried about the whereabouts of her husband (but making sure she's finished herself off good and proper first) Vera heads into town to visit the funky cold Medina who quickly assigns special agent V1 (Davao, best known as Matt Cordero in the hit teevee show Kung tayo'y magkakalayo) to the case, ordering him to get to the bottom of W2's disappearance.

However good he is in the field doesn't make up for V1's apparent hearing problems tho' as the next thing we know he's hard at work getting jiggy on Vera's ample bottom.

An easy mistake to make.

Unfortunately for the dirty duo just as V1 is about to fire a pint of his stale smelling mayonnaise-like gunk up Vera's shit encrusted pack passage, who should walk in but W2.

And he's not a happy man.

Shouting like a very loud shouty thing, he chucks his wife out into the street before turning his attentions to a by now floppy V1 who stands there trying to look defiant whilst attempting to stop a handful of spunk trickle down his wrist.

Anthony Alonzo enjoys a good ear fisting from Jeanette Krankie. But then again, who wouldn't.

But before we get any man on man wrestling action, Pratings bravely steps in and informs the boys that Nesfero's opium shipment is due in the next hour, giving W2, V1, Pratings and some other alphabetised crime fighters time to organise a plan and steal the shipment.

I say organise a plan but the basically turn up at the rendezvous point and shoot everyone which pisses of Nesfero's boss, the evil Harry Praxis (Ninja Warriors Vance) no end.

Slowly losing the (admittedly wafer thin) plot Nesfero decides the best way to get (even more) revenge on W2 is to take an entire Catholic school (but the only one in the world devoid of sexy schoolgirls) hostage,  threatening to kill all the kiddies unless Medina hands over both the the opium and W2.

Oh and sends in a crate of Tizer and some salted nuts.

W2, obviously having had enough shit for one lifetime let alone a weekend, decides to lock himself in his garage to get slowly drunk and maybe do some DIY.

But when local (in all senses of the word) news reporter Alice's (Alonzo's real-life sister Alicia) rash attempt at trying to get an interview with the vile villain gets both her and her hostage daughter killed, W2 comes out of hiding and, armed with only a home made rocket launcher, clad in body armour made entirely of saucepans and driving an second hand taxi covered in old soup tins, decides to face off to Nesfero and his gang one last time....

Nuttier than squirrel shit, cheaper than your mum and with a script written by a committee of horny, 14 year old boys (and one angry lesbian disguised as a horny boy) W is for War! is quite possibly the loopiest action movie ever to escape from the far off land of the Philippines.

Trust me I know, I've even seen The Twilight People.

Directed (loosely) by the legendary Willie Milan (of Ultimax Force fame) and edited by a blind hook-handed sailor, the film manages to cram in more outrageously bonkers ideas than you'd get from a roomful of crack-addled quantum physicists being poked with frozen twine yet still make more sense than an average episode of Hollyoaks.

Which is no mean feat in itself.

"Aya! mah BCG!"

From it's castrated leading man to the gayest post-apocalyptic warlord ever seen on celluloid, W is For War! has something for the whole family to enjoy;

Hilariously stilted (and oft repeated) dialogue? Check.

Mindlessly messy violence? Check.

Infanticide? Check.

Skin tight, flesh tone Speedo's and large steel helmets? Of course.

Add to that already heady mix a selection of the most cack-handedly edited sex scenes of all time and the close-up and personal sight of our heroes crotch, taped down as to appear ball-less whilst clad in tiny briefs and you know deep down in your soul that you're watching a thing of rare beauty.

Quite possibly the greatest action movie ever made and definitely worth selling your kids for.

double trouble.

Shite movie, vaguely amusing backstory.

Prepare yourself dear reader for the truth behind... 

Dracula vs. Frankenstein (1971).
Dir: Al Adamson.
Cast: Anthony Eisley, Regina Carrol, Russ Tamblyn, Jim Davis, Angelo Rossitto, Greydon Clark, Anne Morrell, Forrest J Ackerman, John Bloom, Lon Chaney, Jnr, J. Carrol Naish and Zandor Vorkov.

“She used to have fantasies about being a freak…
Two heads, an eye missing, elongated spine.
Anything that was grotesque turned her on.”

Somewhere in California - the Oakmoor Cemetery to be precise - world famous lord of the undead Count Dracula (disguised by the look of things as an almost AIDS thin pedo with pubes for hair and played to almost cardboard perfection by 'Zandor Vorkov' AKA Roger Engel) is busy unearthing the remains of Doctor Frankenstein's monster.

What? You mean to tell me you skipped the part of the book where the creatures remains are secreted to the US to be experimented on?

Surprised to see a black satin clad sex offender digging around in the middle of the night the cemeteries lone security guard (the directors dad) comes to investigate, getting his neck nibbled for his trouble.

Pay attention at this part, as it's the only vaguely vampiric thing Dracula will partake in during the whole movie.

Meanwhile under Brighton pier a fairly foxy girl is nervously feeling her way thru' a fog of what can only be cigarette smoke before being suddenly - and unconvincingly -  attacked by an axe-wielding, alcoholic Lon Chaney, Jr.(who distressingly looks close to death).

The axe cuts short her scream.

And cuts off her head.

We cut too but fear not, for it's only a cinematic phrase meaning the action (well, I say action) is moving to somewhere else.

And that somewhere else is glorious Las Vegas, where glamorous grannie Judith Fontain (director Adamson's wife, the late Carrol, star of Satan's Sadists and official pin-up girl of raunchy rockers The Sleepfarmers) is performing her groovy nite-club act to a packed audience via the wonders of stock footage (well, takes up a couple of minutes running time) before retiring to her dressing room to let the air out of her breasts and check her fan mail.

Alongside the final demands, STD test results and court summonses is a letter from one Sergeant Martin Martin (Dallas star Davis) of the Californian Police Missings Persons Bureau (yup, that's the name on the envelope), informing Judith that her wee sister Jodie has gone missing.

Dracula, up the casino, 1973.....Yesch!

Judith, being a concerned sister and desperate to get the plot moving rushes to California (I'm assuming it's just down the road) in order to help with the police investigation much to the chagrin of the permanently scowling Sgt. Martin.

"Hey lady, the world is a dark place," Martin informs her as he switches off his desk lamp in order to batter the point home "If you have any wool I suggest you get knitting!" he suggests usefully before heading off to beat up some students.

Left to her own devices, our heroine wanders innocently into the dangerous hippie neighbourhood where her sister was last seen.

Entering the famous Hippie Hilton (500 McLaughlin Dr. Santa Cruz, CA 95064-1084, families welcome) Judith tries to ingratiate herself into the whole hippie thing by asking for a coffee whilst showing pictures of her sis to all and sundry but this only succeeds in getting poor Judith mistaken for a cop, leaving the owner no alternative but to spike her drink with LSD.

Cue much hair tugging, indiscriminate crash zooms and Judith writhing on a platform whilst wearing a white fishnet body stocking to a frantic bongo beat.

Far out.

Luckily she's rescued by nice guy hipster Clive Strange (hard working Clark, best known - to me anyway - for Without Warning) and his mousey girlfriend Samantha (Morrell, you may remember her as the floating harem girl in John Goldfarb, Please Come Home! or maybe not).

Lon Fancies a wee mooth shite-in....are you man enough for the challenge?

Meanwhile at the local chamber of horrors conveniently located on the end of the pier next to the bingo hall, the wheelchair-bound scientist and former member of NWA Dr. Drea (Naish, desperate to pay his medical bills) is busy attempting to perfect a special formula that will enable mankind to live forever and have perfectly coiffured  hair even after a heavy night out.

Unfortunately he can only make this formula by beheading people then bringing them back to life before finally lobotomising them.

Aided by urine stained imbecile Groton (that'll be Lon then, poor sod) and professional little person Grazbo (Rossitto famous for everything from Freaks to Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome via Galaxina), who've been promised physical and mental superiority once the formula is perfected, this dynamic duo find suitable candidates for experimentation via Grazbo's job at the box office, leaving Groton to chop them up.

"Laugh now!"

After one particularly heavy night of lobotomy-based fun, Dr. Drea is surprised when a strange man steps out of the shadows and demands to talk to him.

Examining the strangers ring, Drea identifies the visitor as Count Dracula, and Dracula not to be outdone, identifies Drea as the last of the Frankenstein family.

With Drea realising that his Colonel Sanders disguise is fooling no-one and Drac just relieved that he's finally met someone who doesn't piss themselves laughing whilst looking at him they pair settle down for an excruciatingly bad chat that although meant to fill in an important bit of back story just careers off on bizarre tangents.

None of this is helped by the fact that Dracula appears to have been dubbed by someone standing in a well.

"Ahm sorry hen....ave pished mahsel again!"

Anyway, from what I can gather (after rewatching the movie a few times) is that  Drea was adopted (which is why he's not known as Frankenstein and more importantly why he's considerably less hip than other Def Jam stalwarts) and that his work in monster construction was discredited by three evil doctors, one of which caused the accident that crippled him.

This man whom we shall call simply Dr. Beaumont (because that's his name) added insult to injury by stealing the Frankenstein monster and burying it in the graveyard from the films opening.

Luckily for all concerned the infamous Zornov Comet is rapidly approaching the Earth, heralding the beginning of the monster's second life cycle.

Look I'm just typing what was said.

Meanwhile junked up Judith suddenly wakes up in the bed of aged hippie Mike Howard (Eisely from Knots Landing), a local middle-aged guy who looks after the disenfranchised yoof in the area whilst dressed like a teenage rent boy.

Nope, nothing sinister about that at all.

Taking a shine to Judith (he's obviously bored with failing to score at the school gates so he's decided on someone nearer his own - old - age) the pair begin to discuss Jodie's disappearance, eventually coming to the conclusion that, being disabled Dr. Drea is behind it.

Cue hours of wandering around aimlessly back and forth to the house of horrors exhibit intercut with dozens of unnecessary appearances  by a chubby, shite bearded Russ Tamblyn playing an evil rapist biker named Rico.

Truly the man has no shame.

Or a fucking huge rehab bill.

Heath Ledger farted....and it was an eggy one.

Skipping forward a few chapters (look I'm only human) and finally Judith and Mike (after admitting their love for each other and having a wee kiss and cuddle) have decided to take one last look at Drea's horror show.

Only to make it more interesting they've turned up in the middle of the night.

Wandering around in the 'dark', they pair of wannabe investigators completely fail to see or hear Rico and his pals trying to rape Samantha and also miss Groton's subsequent slaughter of the bad boy bikers but, and give credit where it's due, Mike does manage to hear Groton quietly pull a chain that opens a trapdoor to Drea's lab.

Trying to find the source of the noise, the pair also manage to miss the three hacked to pieces bodies at their feet but do spot a teeny tiny locket belonging to Samantha buried in the sand.

I'll be honest, even I've stopped caring at this point.

"Fiona! Where's mah lunch?"

Drea, lying in wait behind a shady model of a giant monkey catches the pair as they sneak around the exhibits and manages to lure our loved up losers into the dank, dark basement below his lair.

If you could take a minute now to consider the layout of Drea's Chamber of Horrors.

If you've been paying attention you'll remember that it's built on a pier over the beach to give Groton easy access to the sands to kill women.

So how (and more importantly where) does the stone clad gothic basement fit in?

I have to be honest and say that at the time I totally accepted this without question showing the true extent of the films almost supernatural mind numbing powers.


It was only the following day that I realised that the whole thing was complete and utter shame trousered shite from start to finish.

Anyway, Drea explains the plot, Judith finds her naked sister in a big jam jar and Mike, being an all American hero type picks a fight with the dwarf, causing Groton's pet cat to fall down the trapdoor.

I kid you not, cinema hardly ever gets as exciting as this baby.

Tosser.

Much infant school slapping and grimacing ensues culminating with wee Grazbo falling onto an axe giving Judith time to escape to the roof.

Of a factory.

Mike however is trapped behind some boxes as an ever more excited Drea take potshots at his arse with an airpistol before giving chase in what must be modern cinemas slowest wheelchair versus middle aged man race ever.

All looks lost until Mike in a rare flash of intelligence, hides behind the monkey exhibit and shouts "BOO!" as Drea wheels by causing the scientist to shit himself, the runny consistency of which makes Drea slide off his seat and onto a prop  guillotine exhibit, which decapitates him.

Back on the roof Groton, pulling his best sex face, is closing in on Judith but just as all seems lost who should turn up but Sgt. Martin and Clive Strange back from discovering the three bodies under the pier.

Strange spots Judith running across the roof and Martin, desperate to shoot someone, opens fire on Groton.

"Put it in me!"

Running to the roof to comfort Judith, Mark seems to have forgotten one tiny thing.

The title of the film.

For waiting in the shadows Dracula is plotting a terrible revenge on those who have thwarted his plans.

A revenge that will at some point involve him bitch slapping a potato-faced monster whilst Judith's breasts look on in terror....

"I fang you!"

Where to start when it comes to the late king of exploitation Al Adamson and his work?

Director, producer, actor and writer Adamson directed an impressive (in quantity if not quality) thirty movies between 1961 and 1983 before retiring from films and getting involved in real estate.

Tho' probably not beach-front piers with stone basements.

Back to his movies tho' and whilst Dracula vs. Frankenstein is nowhere near one of his better efforts it does have the most comically convoluted stories behind it's journey to the big screen.

Beginning production in 1968 as The Blood Seekers with much the same plot and cast Adamson was reported as being unhappy with the finished product, feeling it lack a certain something and consequently shelved the entire movie, putting all his efforts into the other seven (?) he had in production at the same time.

Jump forward a few years and Al's producer pal Sam Sherman, is panicking into a bottle of Rum.

It appears that he foolishly signed a contract to deliver a brand new full colour Frankenstein film to the drive-in theatre crowd and, after spending the cash on crisps and fizzy pop has only days in which to find one before he gets his legs broken.

In an attempt to cheer his pal up, Adamson took Sherman to the cinema where the pair found themselves watching Paul Naschy's debut film La Marca del Hombre Lobo (AKA The Mark of The Wolfman) alongside Holiday on The Buses.

It was at this point Sherman hatched a cunning plan.

He would buy the rights to the movie and change the title to The Something of Frankenstein therefore filling his obligation and make a few bob on the side.

Unfortunately tho' Holiday on The Buses was too expensive (Hammer wanted £18.60 for the worldwide rights) to purchase so instead he ended up with Naschy's movie which he quickly retitled Frankenstein's Bloody Terror (despite it not featuring Frankenstein) before releasing it onto an unsuspecting audience.

The plan worked and to celebrate Sherman took Adamson out for a baked potato and a pint of cider and it was during this meal, as Adamson looked down on the cheese melting across his lumpy spud that the director realised what was missing from the Blood Seekers footage.

A monster with a potato for a face.

With a cry of "Eureka!" Adamson jumped from his seat causing the man sitting behind to accidentally spray tomato sauce of his wife's heaving bosom.

Noticing the red liquid dripping seductively down her swan-like (if a little too hairy) neck the film making duo looked at each other before both shouting:

"Dracula!"

And thus a legend was born.

"Wahey Blakey! I'm spunking tenners!"

But who had the gravitas to play such an iconic roll?

And who was brave enough to bring the Count kicking and screaming into the 1970's?

Sherman wanted genre veteran John Carradine, thinking that the actor would bring a noble gravitas to a portrayal of an older, more desperate Dracula, out of time and thrust into the modern world for one last attempt at immortality.

But Adamson had other ideas, he wanted someone young and sexy but more importantly he wanted someone with a beard.

A beard fashioned from pubic hair.

With this in mind he called upon his stockbroker Robert 'pubey' Engel who accepted the part on the spot.

Funnel or tunnel?

Renamed Zandor Vorkov (a partial anagram of Talentless tosser), his voicebox replaced with that of a bass-heavy transistor radio slightly off-tuned to medium wave and his skin bleached with ammonia, Engel's was ready to begin shooting.

All that was left to do now was to find and purchase a really big potato and find someone willing to put it on their head.

This job fell to the massive, slack jawed 7 foot, 4 inch bulkily hulky John Bloom. Known as Johnny 'Horsecock' Bloom to his friends, the actor had already appeared in such greats as The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant and Up Your Alley before Adamson came a calling and he too had unique ideas as to how the infamous monster should be portrayed.


As a club-footed tramp obviously.

And how did it all turn out?

Well I would usually say see for yourselves but frankly I'm not that much of an unfeeling bastard.

If you have already seen it there are groups out there to help you adjust back into normal life life.

And if not?

Just memorise this review and kid on that you saw it.

It's for the best.

glad to be geisha.

Been catching up on a big pile of stuff in the corner (films, laundry, work, kids etc.) and went for this first cos it had a pretty laydee on the cover.

At least I'm honest.

And don't worry, seeing as it's fairly new(ish) i'll not give too much away to the six of you who haven't seen it yet.

Robo-Geisha (2009)
Dir: Noboru Iguchi
Cast: Aya Kiguchi, Hitomi Hasebe, Yoshihiro Nishimura, Takumi Saito and Taro Shikagi.

"I knew it would rotate!
Shit! Help me!"

After saving an important politician (FX whiz Nishimura in a neat cameo) from the clutches of an evil cybernetic Geisha assassin and her deadly breasted, sword wielding minions, the mysterious saviour of Japan, Robo-Geisha begins to tell (in true Marvel Comics style) the grateful and very sweaty would-be victim her secret origin story....

Time to fetch the tissues.

Welcome to the (not so) wonderful life of the cute as a button and pigtailed Yoshie Kasuga (former gravure idol and tarento turned actress Kiguchi), destined to live forever in the shadow of her bullying (and fairly harsh) older sister, the top geisha Kikue (Battle Royale II and Ultraman Max's Hasebe).

After an accident involving peppered dough balls, hot soup, a cucumber in the mooth and Kikue administering a severe kicking to her sister, poor Yoshie angrily tears a phonebook in half, catching the attention of super mulleted pretty boy Hikaru Kageno (fish lipped Saito from Vampire Girl vs. Frankenstein Girl), spoiled son of the vaguely camp and bequiffed multi-millionaire steel tycoon Mr. Kenzan Kageno (Japan's very own Shakin' Stevens, Shigaki) who invites them both to dinner.

"Blades in mah face!"

As the pair of them both think he's a sexy man (if a little wet) they excitedly accept his invitation and make their way to his home, a bizarre hybrid of temple, factory and James Bond villain lair by way of the Eurovision Song Contest set circa 1987.

I'd move in there like a shot.

Even if I had to have a daily pleasuring from Hikaru and his dad.

Your mum at work yesterday.

Little do the sisters suspect that behind the almost ladyboy smile and kissy lipslurks the heart of a very bad man because Hikaru (and his dandy dad) are planning to build an army of deadly robo-geisha’s (to work alongside their deadly breasted elite Tengu assassins) in an attempt to seize control of Japan...

...with Yoshie and Kikue the latest recruits.

Soon the sisterly slaggings and slaps become more and more dangerous as the pair are pitted against each other (in full geisha make-up and big pink pants) in a fight to the death.

Meow. Thrice.

Although small in stature Yoshie is big in battle skills and, after a wee bit of a kicking easily defeats her sister, causing one of those nasty not talking phases between the pair.

Which is quite possibly the least of their worries seeing as Hikaru is hoping to use their new found sibling hatred to aid his plan to transform them into the most efficient killing machines ever created.

"Put it in me!"

Augmenting their (silky smooth) bodies with everything from armpit swords, breast mounted machine guns and napalm hair, Yoshie and Kikue soon become the number one and number two assassins in Hikaru's organisation but when Yoshie is ordered to assassinate the families of those Hikaru has kidnapped and transformed into his cybernetic army our maiden of metal has a crisis of conscience.

"You raff....you RUSE!"

Betrayed and left for dead, Yoshie is rebuilt by the very same concerned relatives she was programmed to destroy our heroine decides to make a stand for all that's good and decent in the world, even if it costs her the sister she secretly still loves....

From the smoking quill of Noboro Iguchi, the man behind Machine Girl, Sukeban Boy and the upcoming Mutant Girls Squad comes yet another panties and prosthetics filled tale of love, family honour, city stomping robots and ludicrously large guns.

Well you know what they say, if it ain't broke dinnae fix it.

To take it too seriously (as many folk seem to have) is to miss the point, as Robo-Geisha is nothing more than a cheap and cheerful comic book of a movie just to be enjoyed on the most basic of levels not over analysed and chin stroked.

Folk should realise this as soon as swords appear out of the (shapely) arses of the Tengu assassins.

I mean, it's not deep and it doesn't want to be clever, it just wants to be fun, fun, fun.

Iguchi directs like a child raiding a chocolate box, you never know what you're going to get next.

Mouth mounted buzzsaws?, arse-blades?, armpit swords?, acidic breast milk? sister on sister bickering? It's all here in one dizzily silly and childish mix topped off by acting so over the top it's a wonder none of the actors got nosebleeds, pre-Playstation effects and a score that purposely rips off everything from Godzilla to Live and Let Die.

Oh, and numerous shots of big pants and a secret base that turns into a dancing robot intent on blowing up Mount Fuji with a big gold bomb.

Need I say more?

the brody bunch.

Just back from a testosterone fuelled boys night out to catch the worlds greatest actor (TM) punching a big rubber monster with a vagina for a mouth whilst scrabbling around a kiddies sandpit.

Yup, it can only be...

Predators (2010).
Dir: Nimród Antal.
Cast: Sir Adrien of Brody, Alice Braga, Topher Grace, Oleg Taktarov, Danny Trejo, Walton Goggins, Mahershalalhashbaz Ali, Louis Ozawa Changchien and Laurence Fishburne.

"Hmm... 5 O'clock... Bitch rapin' time."

Enjoying an afternoon kip on the sofa, beak-nosed bad ass mercenary Ross Royce (the magnificent Brody, star of some of the greatest movies of all time, oh and Splice) is woken by a cold draft down his back and is fairly surprised to find that he's no longer sitting in his conservatory listening to Radio 4 but plummeting to earth with a kiddies lunchbox strapped to his back.

Normal start to the day then.

Luckily the lunchbox contains a groovy glider cum parachute and soon enough Royce is rolling about in the mud, looking all mean and moody whilst trying to recover his dignity.

Within seconds landing tho' Royce is even more surprised (there's a lot of it about) to find himself being machine gunned by a mental Hispanic drug dealer named Cuchillo (the legend that is Danny Trejo), who also seems to have mysteriously parachuted in to this strange and exotic jungle.

Well, I say strange and exotic but it just looks as if they went down to the local park, if you look closely you can actually see the swings in the background.

Only the Brody.

Being hard nosed bastards the pair indulge in a wee bit of manly bitch slapping before being attacked (hmmm....there seems to be a pattern forming) by a brick-built Russian soldier named Nikolai (Taktarov, star of loads of stuff that I haven't seen and Bad Boys II which I have) carrying what looks like a giant hedge trimmer that spits bullets.

More manliness ensues.

All this slapping and scuffling tho', plus the smell of sweat and piss has attracted the attentions of another military type stuck in the jungle.

Enter (from behind roughly if you're that way inclined) the sexy Israeli sniper Isabelle (button nosed Braga from City of God), whose calm demeanour and smart fringe almost instantly calms the situation and soon enough the merry band are traipsing towards the petting zoo looking for other recently arrived folk.

Knowing that we're here to see some top monster vs. Brody action and not just to watch a bunch of sweaty folk walking thru' a country park it's not long before the rest of the cast are assembled, including Mombasa (Ali) a Sierra Leone bad lad, cool bare foot Yakuza Hanzo (Changchien), death row rapist Stans (Goggins) plus clumsy comedy doctor Edwin (Grace).

As each are introduced they're allowed a few minutes of swearing and of flexing their muscles in an attempt to define their characters.

All except Edwin that is who gets to fall out of a tree in a vaguely amusing Chuckle Brothers manner.

The girl, the Brody and the pill.

Being the only Oscar winner amongst the cast Royce soon takes charge, deciding that if they walk far enough in the same direction they'll find the park gates or at the very least a climbing frame to stand on so they can shout for their mums.

Everyone agrees and dutifully follows our hero past the rockery (with water feature) along to a big clearing where they're all shocked and stunned to see, not the sky but a huge toddlers drawing of some planets and stuff shoddily hung in front of them.

Are they in an alien adventure playground or are the FX team fucking with the movies budget?

There's unfortunately no time to discuss this as out of nowhere (well the bushes) some spiky headed CGI Shetland ponies appear and start to chase our heroes in a terrifying frenzy of pixelated bloodlust and computer game level tie-in madness.

Seemingly impervious to bullets (sometimes) it's down to Brody's patented five knuckle fist-fuck to render the beasts unconscious.

The good, the bad and the Brody.

Putting two and two together (then dividing by monster horsedogs before subtracting originality) Royce figures out that they been kidnapped by aliens then deposited on some kind of intergalactic game preserve to be hunted down like wild animals.

Albeit wild animals with big guns and balls of steel.

And that's just Isabelle.

From now on in it's a battle for survival as Earth's meanest mutha's take on the fanny faced ferocious Predators in a fight to the death.

Or a reheated rehash of the original with a skinny Oscar winner in the place of the pug faced Austrian oak.

Probably.

Brody of evidence.

Hired by behatted producer Robert Rodriguez (because he was cheap and because Paul WS Anderson was busy probably) to bring his boyhood dream of a halfway decent sequel to the 1987 Schwarzenegger original to the screen, Nimród (Armoured, Vacancy and Kontroll) Antal's boy's own, big(gish) budget 'B' picture is as inoffensive as it is at times annoying.

Looking like it was shot in the producers garden with Playstation quality special effects, Brody seems to be under the impression that he's in Saving Private Ryan whilst a bizarro cameo from a drunken, bloated Laurence Fishburne seems to have been edited in from a completely different draft of the script.

And if you're gonna put Danny Trejo in a movie for fucks sake don't kill him off twenty minutes in.

And then off screen.

Luckily Alice Braga pitches her performance as the hard bitch with a great arse perfectly but you know that when Topher (Venom/Eddie Brock from Spider-Man 3) Grace gives a movies best performance that you're in trouble.

Thankfully tho' before the entire thing falls apart or you start to think too much about the script, Adrien Brody takes his top off, smothers himself in mud and has a fist fight with a tall man in a rubber suit and a string vest.

It's then that it somehow makes it all seems worthwhile.

Brody and (Mrs) Doyle:
"Go on, go on, go on".

Pedestrianly directed, pantomimely acted and with special effects as rough as your mum, Predators is far better than the cinematic quagmire that is AvP (1 and 2) but never scales the testosterone and piss stained epicness of the original.

But did anyone honestly think it would be?

Bizarrely enough tho' Predators is still a must see.

And not just for the sight of Adrien Brody's serious actor persona nosediving quicker than the character of Royce in the films pre-credit sequence.

happy birthday ray.

Ray Harryhausen is 90 today.

A true pioneer and an inspiration to us all. Happy birthday sir!

bin raidin'.

The Raiders Of Atlantis (AKA Atlantis Interceptors, Atlantis Inferno, I predatori di Atlantide. 1983)
Dir: Ruggero Deodato.
Cast: Christopher Connelly, Gioia Scola, Tony King, George Hilton, Ivan Rassimov, Mike Miller, Bruce Baron, Michele Soavi, Giancarlo Prati, Maurizio Fardo, Mike Monty, John Vasallo, Lewis A. Cianelli, James Demby and Audrey Perkins.

"This don't look like no advanced civilisation
to me - just a bunch of trees!"

Rough and tumble, pastel clad heroes for hire Mike Smith (mottle skinned Connelly from Manhattan Baby) and Geoff 'Mohammed' Washington (King AKA Malik Farrakhan from Cannibal Apocalypse and BJ and the Bear), make ends meet by chloroforming then kidnapping old men on the orders of the US government for $50,000 a shot.

Which is nice work if you can get it.

Having delivered the old fella to a mysterious colonel whilst wisecracking about Vietnam and Washington's conversion to Islam, the pair decide to set sail to the Caribbean for a well deserved holiday.

By some strange coincidence, a secret Navy project is getting under way in the same bit of ocean and the tiny faced (and frighteningly insectoid) science type, Dr. Cathy Rollins (Desirable Teacher's Scola) has been (forcibly) drafted in to help decipher an ancient, skull embossed plaque discovered on the ocean floor.

The projects head, the bespectacled and knee length shorted Professor Peter Saunders (Hilton from such classics The Case of the Bloody Iris and Holy God, Here Comes the Passatore!) explains that they came across it whilst trying to raise a Russian sub that had sunk a few months earlier.

Being an expert on pre-Columbian dialects of almost Daddy Pig proportions, Rollins has absolutely no trouble in translating the strange markings on the plaque and announces that it tells the whereabouts of the fabled lost city of Atlantis.

"Bbbbbbzzzzzzzzzz!"

Meanwhile in a mysterious Caribbean isle hotel room, a mysterious man in his granddad's suit slowly opens a wall safe and removes a joke shop plastic skull mask, he gazes lovingly at it before popping it onto his tiny head.

Talking of tiny heads, it's action stations all the way back on the government submarine stealing base as Rollin's takes a break from transcribing ancient inscriptions (and a sell out spoken word tour) to peer at a grainy black and white monitor showing superimposed images of a child's bath toy slowly rising to the surface of a fishtank.

Suddenly the whole place goes haywire as indoor firework style sparks shower the set and the light fuses blow. As the crew run around like small girls being chased by a wasp it's left to the director of Delamore Dellamorte to lead everyone to the lifeboats.

But what's happening back on that island with the skull-faced man I hear you cry?

Well so far nothing seeing as we've cut to a garishly clad couple, Arthur and Maude who, upon leaving their house are shocked and frightened by the amount of grainy stock footage of thunderstorms in the distance.

Maude is understandably upset and wants to go back into the house but as she turns to enter the porch plastic skull face turns up (surrounded by a motley assortment of leather clad and mohawk headed pikeys) and shoots her in the throat before parking his bike up Arthur's arse .

The Jade Goody sex mask: Available now!

Mike and Washington, alongside their oiled Filipino cabin boy Manuel (Vasallo in his only credited screen appearance - shame) are having problems of their own trying to guide the boat thru' giant waves whilst dodging the huge domed city that's appeared out of the ocean in front of them as the outboard motor fries and the last crate of beer falls overboard.

Crikey.

Luckily the films fades to black before it can get too exciting (or expensive) and next thing we know it's the following morning. The sea is calm and Washington and Manuel are busy rescuing the survivors (including Italian cinema's sexiest man, Sir Ivan of Rassimov in the pivotal role of daredevil pilot Bill Cook) from the base whilst Mike makes googly eyes at Cathy.

Who appears to be young enough to be his daughter but let's not dwell on that.

Mercifully for the viewer this uncomfortable display of old man lust is cut short when Manuel suddenly becomes a mentalist and grabs Cathy by her scrawny throat, threatening to kill anyone who gets in his way.

It appears that Manuel has received a psychic message telling him that 'Cathy is needed'.

It mustn't be that important tho' seeing as he's happy enough to jump overboard without her.

"To me!" "To you!"

With everyone just standing about staring at each other trying to figure what just happened, nobody notices that the boat has run aground on a deserted beach until Cathy decides to go skinny dippy, jumps overboard and grazes her knee on a discarded Irn Bru bottle.

Mike being the oldest (by about seventy years) takes charge and decides that they should head inland and try to find a phone.

Or at least find the guy who runs the donkey rides across the sand.

Approaching the nearest town our intrepid (or is that tepid?) band are shocked to find the whole place in ruins with buildings ablaze, cars overturned and corpses hanging from every telegraph pole.

Mike mistakenly thinks that they've arrived in Manchester and whilst desperately trying to score some skag of an illiterate inbred on a street corner bumps into his old pal Manuel, still nutty as squirrel shit and here to warn them to get Cathy back to the boat before 'they' arrive to take her.

Driving Ms. Daisy: the S & M years.

But it's a warning too late as the infamous 'they' (plastic skull face and his merry band of homo-erotic bikers) arrive and start shooting at things whilst showing their oiled nipples to all and sundry forcing Mike and co. to take shelter in a church.

All that is except the resident ginger man who runs towards the leather clad gang shouting “They’re human! They’ll listen to reason!” before being shot in the arse and nailed to a tree.

Which is fair enough I reckon.

Waiting till nightfall and the badboy bikers going home to bed, Mike and Bill lead the survivors to the (relative) safety of a nearby warehouse packed with cases of rifles, unlimited ammunition and a big box of napalm.

Which is pretty damn lucky if you ask me.

On a less interesting note the warehouse is also hiding place to a balding camp man in a tuxedo (Fardo from The Bronx Warriors 2 and Demons 6), his fairly unattractive daughter and his very unattractive wife.

Don't worry tho', they'll be dead soon.

It's not long before the barking bikers return to torment and taunt Mike and his pals whilst handily standing still on top of walls within easy shooting distance.

“We have returned!” shouts plastic before sending his men into the warehouse to snatch Cathy, leaving Mike no alternative but to give chase.

What a guy.

Running around the backlot, his turkey neck glistening with sweat Mike chances upon a hefty German man (Mike Miller, not the northern comedian I assume) wearing a headband who goes by the name of Klaus who's been wandering around for days spoiling for the chance to fight someone.

Not too surprisingly he jumps at the chance to join Mike's quest.

Returning to the warehouse and reading thru' Cathy's notebook (in the hope of finding some nude pictures of her obviously) Mike discovers that Atlantis sank as a consequence of a big civil war culminating in the use of a nuclear bomb, ergo the radiation leaking from the downed Soviet sub is what must have caused the island to rise again.

Obvious really.

There's a downside to all this domed city and psychic nonsense tho' as it seems that the radiation has caused all the surviving Atlanteans to become forgetful which is why they need Cathy kidnapped for her knowledge, which they need to achieve their plan of raising Atlantis for good.

And yes, I know it's all bollocks, I've just had to type it.

Cathy:
Hidden knowledge, shite sofa.

But Mike, being brave and desperate for a shag has a rescue plan which involves commandeering a bus to travel to the local airport and steal a helicopter to fly to Atlantis, kill everyone there and leave with Cathy over his shoulder.

Yup, works for me.

After an exciting bus journey and a few more killings they do indeed steal a helicopter and fly toward the bubblicious Atlantis where, upon landing they kill a few more leather-clad Atlantean types whilst Professor Saunders (yes, he's still alive and wearing shorts) decides that neutralising the radiation from the submarine may indeed cause Atlantis to sink again, saving everyone from being over-run by plastic skull wearing mentalists on motorbikes.

Or something.

A transparent breast yesterday.

Whilst all this killing and science is going on Cathy has had time to dress up in a seventies disco-whore outfit and have a conversation with some old men projected onto a wall.

Her lack of any visible acting ability makes me think that she's either drunk or under hypnosis seeing as she's not only readily agreed to help the Atlantean's take over the world but seems to believe all the frankly techno-bollocks chat that's being banded about.

Saying that tho' her legs to look particularly nice in those glittery tights so it's not all bad.

But time (and the viewers patience) is running out.....

"Shite in mah Atlantean mooth!"

Will Mike be able to rescue Cathy in time to take her out for the promised spinach supper?

Will the Professor be able to turn off the nuclear radiation?

Or will the plastic skull man take over the world?

Go on, guess.

What film are we talking about?

The controversy courting king of the cannibals Ruggero Deodato's little seen action epic Raiders of Atlantis is a majestically mental mix of gruesome gore, mystical mumbo jumbo and post-apocalyptic thrills, riffing Indiana jones and the Hong Kong classic Fantasy Mission Force along the way before mixing the entire thing to a tepid disco beat courtesy of the fantastic Guido De Angelis and Maurizio De Angelis under the alias Oliver Onions.

I'll give you a second to take all that in and then ask....

What's not to like?

Whilst attempting to interview Deodato
for the Arena I failed to notice he'd written
'Shite in mah mooth' in marker
pen on my back.
What a card!

For better or worse, Deodato will probably only be remembered (by all but the most devoted film enthusiasts) for his infamous mockumentary shocker Cannibal Holocaust (and possibly House on the Edge of the Park but for all the wrong reasons) which is a shame really, as his most enjoyable (and accessible) works are the ones that no-one seems to have seen.

And if they have they rarely seem to talk about them.

From the sexy swashbuckling Lucretia love starring comic book adaptation Zenabel to the sublime crime thriller Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man (AKA The Terminators) via the lo-fi Airport: 79 rip off Concorde Affaire '79 (AKA Concorde Inferno '79), Deodato is a director whose genuine love of cinema (and more importantly an appreciation of the sheer enjoyment that films can give) shines thru' even the most threadbare and nonsensical plots.

And much like the great man's drug busting actioner Cut And Run, The Raiders Of Atlantis might be total bollocks but you can't deny that it's utterly enjoyable bollocks.

And you can't say fairer than that can you?

snatch.

I'd like to dedicate this review to the snake-hipped vixen of British politics Harriet Harman.

God bless her and all who sail in her.

Lady Terminator (AKA Pembalasan ratu pantai selatan, Nasty Hunter, The Revenge of the South Seas Queen. 1988).
Dir: Jalil Jackson (AKA H. Tjut Djalil).
Cast: Barbara Anne Constable, Claudia Angelique Rademaker, Christopher J. Hart and dozens of people that the director possibly found in the street.

"I'm not a lady, I'm an anthropologist!"

Somewhere in the exotic south seas the big of hips and high of hair evil queen of those very waters is kicking back in her cardboard castle, lounging around in a tasteful see-thru nightie and market stall mules, her armpit hair tastefully swaying in the breeze.

Understandably shattered after spending the evening murdering a variety of Burt Reynolds a-likes with her frighteningly poisonous and serpent filled vagina, her attempt to catch up with the latest gossip in Heat magazine is rudely cut short when a donkey cocked yet disturbingly scrawny bloke climbs in thru the window.

Wearing his granddads pants.

Licking his thin sweaty lips he launches himself at (and onto) the queen for a wee bit of the old in and out.

The first of many such hellish moments of uncomfortable intercourse during this film.

"Is it in yet?"

Whilst keeping the Queen occupied with some smooth armpit licking our hero manages to reach up into her fearsome fanny and pull out a huge snake which he then turns into a sword.

No, really.

Shocked (wouldn't you be?) by this turn of events, the Queen angrily orders him to change it back and pop it back up.

Oh and if he doesn't mind can he try and find her car keys whilst he's at it.

Determined to put an end to her fanny-based killings he throws the sword away whilst Queenie, in a perfect example of post sex pouting flounces off out of the window promising that "In 100 years I will have my revenge on your Great Granddaughter" before promptly disappearing into the sea.

"How'd ya like dem apples Olive?"

Meanwhile in 'the modern day' (well, some mid eighties hell), bubble permed and bullet nippled student Tania (Constable, the films make-up artist) is spending her vacation scuba diving of the south seas coast.

Bizarrely it seems that her thesis is all about the legend of the Queen's infamous killer vagina and she's determined to find some evidence that it really did exist at any cost.

But (and isn't this always the way?) Tania mistakes scuba-diving for getting tied to a cheap hotel bed clad only in a pair of huge pants meaning that before you know it the Queens snake has re-appeared and made its new home in the poor girls (lusciously maintained) lady garden, meaning our sexy student has transformed into an arse kicking, cock crushing unstoppable vixen of vengeance.

Ladies and gentlemen we present the Lady Terminator!

Or the Nasty Hunter to give Tania her alternative title.

Beware the Perminator.....Peow!

Her mission?

To do bad stuff to that bloke from earliers Great Granddaughter, an up and coming popular music singer named Erica (the hamster cheeked Rademaker from, um, not much else).

Back in the city the local police are at a loss to explain the huge amounts of half naked, bullet riddled and crush cocked corpses that have suddenly begun to litter the cities streets and cheaper hotel rooms, which is the perfect case for the manly Max (Hart, possibly the same one that's now a close-up magician but who really knows?), aided and abetted by his mulleted Israeli man-friend Snake.

Tania farted...and it smelled of shame.
Oh, and Nick Clegg.

Will Max and Snake be able to stop the bewitched Tania before she can extract the Queens revenge? and will there be a failed attempt on Erica's life in a brutal (I say brutal but I meant to type cheap) attack in a discotheque followed by a mid-point fire fight in a police station ala The Terminator?

Quite possibly.

Thanks to a lucky economic boom in the late seventies (and an influx of cheap cameras and even cheaper foreign workers) coupled with a relaxation of it's up till now archaic and almost British censorship laws, Indonesia's fledgling film industry exploded in a multi-coloured garishly gory lo-fi exploitation movies that bizarrely mixed current Hollywood fads alongside themes and ideas unique to Indonesian culture creating some of the strangest (and in some cases dodgiest) movies ever to grace the big screen.

And the strangest of all must be Lady Terminator.

Not really stealing from the James Cameron hit The Terminator, more like breaking into its house and tying it spread eagled to a table before buggering its Gran infront of it, H. Tjut Djalil's magnum opus cheekily lifts entire scenes, complete pages of dialogue and even certain camera angles from the Arnie blockbuster yet despite the almost non existent budget, manages to improve on the original by adding liberal doses of sex, nudity (and even some sexy nudity) to the mix creating a psychedelically charge psychotronic melting pot of pure grade A cinematic cheese.

And my God am I grateful to him for that.

Maybe she's born with it? Maybe it's shite in her mooth.

But the movies biggest asset (in more ways than one, phnar*) must be the presence of the statuesque Barbara Anne Constable, an actress whose range can go from frumpy bespectacled student to leather clad killing machine via a skimpy bikini and big pants without once batting an eyelid or breaking a sweat.

It's a crime against cinema that she never made another movie.

We must hunt her down now and persuade her to returning to acting.

If not in films then at the very least we can all chip in a quid each, hire a camera and an old warehouse and get her to act out all of our leatherette, automatic weapon filled fantasies.

I mean how could she refuse?

It's not like she's busy.

Or dead, at least I hope not.

Blood, breasts and a bubble perm.
What's not to love?

If this isn't in your collection you should be ashamed of yourself.



*And in case you were wondering, the phrase 'in more ways than one' refers to the already mentioned fact that she was lead make-up artist on the film and is in no way a cheap reference to her stunning breasts.

Thank you.