bareback mountain.

Received this from a 'friend' as a (very) late birthday gift.

They must have assumed it was one of those seventies blaxploitation flicks.

At least that's what I hope.

God knows why they sent it me otherwise.

Enjoy.



Niggas' Revenge (2001).
Dir: Dick Wadd.
Cast: Chane Adams, Bobby Blake, Chris Blake, Flex-Deon Blake, Dallas Chalmers Bud Cockerham and Eric Top Stud.

"We're gonna have a barbecue tonight...and the main course is fresh Nazi ass!"

The small, everyday American town of Felchington is idyllic in every way; from it's picket fences, fat folk in high waist plaid trousers to it's neatly kept lawns.

But scratch the surface of any seemingly perfect place and something vile and slimy (and slightly rancid smelling) is bound to appear.

In this case it's a band of buffed up, bastard neo-nazi bad boys going by the terrifying monikers of Bud, Dallas and Chane who seem to spend their entire waking life shouting slightly sexually charged yet incredibly racist abuse at their brick shithouse of a neighbour, Mr. Robert Blake (not that one).

"Excuse me! Do you require any scissors sharpening?"

Hurling remarks that would make the writers of Love Thy Neighbour proud it's only a matter of time before Bobby (as he likes to be called), tired of the police doing nothing takes matters into his own hand.

Alongside his massive cock.

Ringing his 'partner', Flex (who works as a baker fact fans) and his brother (not too sure if it's his real brother or a 'brother' brother, showing a slight lack of important character development methinks) Chris, Bobby only needs to say three little words to get the (mini) posse running.

And those words?

"White boy trouble!"

Can you dig it?

Indeed I can sir.

Bunnet.

And so the fight begins as three skinny arsed white supremacists face off against three hulking, body building black blokes.

Now who do you think will win?

The clue is in the title by the way.

As the good ol' racist boys fight valiantly to protect their right to be arseholes, the gangs leader, Dallas interjects with some choice insults between his punches referring to Bobby as 'Uncle Tom', which I assume is a continuity mistake by the way, seeing as his name is Bobby and he's not an uncle.

Shame on you for such a glaring mistake Mr. Wadd.

Who's ready for a wee mooth shite-in?

You know what they say about sticks and stones tho' and before too long Dallas is knocked to the ground, a bloodied, muddy mess.

But Bobby/Tom/whatever has a special surprise for our racist chum.

Pulling down his leather trousers whilst pulling out his frankly terrifyingly large penis, the Bobster drenches Dallas in the golden warmth of his urine.

In the mooth.

Shaking every last drop from his mammoth member, Bobby leans toward Dallas and, with a big cheesy grin on his face announces that "There's gonna be a barbeque at Twelve Oaks tonight...and the main course is Nazi ass drenched in nigga piss!"

It was at this point I began to suspect that this wasn't actually an action movie ala Death Wish or Shaft and that I was, in fact watching what could be referred to as 'the porn'.

Tho' not being 100% sure I bravely soldiered on.

Bobby by now high on the smell of man sweat and piss fumes decides to clean up the urine soaked racist and dunks poor Dallas in a nearby septic tank before bending him (a wee bit like Beckham probably) over a barrel and beating his bare arse with a handy piece of 2x4 that just happened to be lying about in the back yard.

His fun is cut short tho' when the wood breaks, leaving Bobby weapon-less and Dallas with what looks like a bright red baboon bum covered in splinters.

But if he thinks this is as sore as his bottom is gonna get then he's in for a big surprise.

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

Bored with mealy standing back and watching (albeit whilst sitting on Dallas' wriggly pals), Flex and Chris decide it's time to have some fun of their own and drag the three badboys off to bobby's basement games room cum sex dungeon...

From Dick Wadd, the worlds finest purveyor of the oft ignored genre of bareback arse assault comes what will probably go down in cinema history as the greatest (and most successful) attempt to portray the grim reality of racially motivated intolerance ever committed to celluloid.

Utilising the harsh black and white colour palette of both the sets and performers bodies to subtly represent the violent transfer of power between the attackers and the attacked, the film culminates with what is quite possibly the most powerful statement on racism ever seen; the image of the persecuted African American transforming the oppressive white man into his slave.

Then violently bumming him for 40 minutes inbetween forcing him to drink warm urine from a dog bowl.

"Here come the Belgians!"

As with all great works of art Niggas' Revenge has it's critics, unbelievable as it seems there are some (very stupid) individuals tho' that disagree with the accepted interpretation of the movie, seeing it as nothing more than an excuse for 90 minutes of forced interracial buggery and fisting intercut with the occasional golden shower scene and angry men shouting "Nigga!" a lot.

As if.

If you really feel you need to see it tho' and want a good excuse, tell your parents/partner/therapist that you're interested in experiencing the final on-screen performance by the legendary Bobby Blake (star of High Rollin': A Black Thang,  White Nuts & Black Bolts, Pumping Black: Hold on Tight amongst many others, go on ask your dad for more info who, in his autobiography (that bears the fantastically original title of "My Life in Porn: The Bobby Blake Story", musta taken weeks to come up with that) admits that due to the animalistic intensity of his buggery and pissing scenes that many performers refused to do movies with him, which aided his decision to retire.

Frankly I was terrified enough by the size of his cock.

I mean it was so big it hand an adult knee in the middle.

And a spine.

A spine of a giant.

Any other reasons?

Well it does feature the largest amount of urine ever unleashed in the man of interacial pornography.

Which in itself is frankly spectacular and worth the admission price (and shame filled evenings) alone.

File under 'hide from the babysitter'.

von leslie.

Phew! Who knew that researching a World War II based, nasty Nazi script could be so much hard work?

I originally thought that I'd find everything I needed to know from old copies of The Victor, Commando Pocket Library and Sgt. Rock but was I mistaken.

Luckily a friend suggested that I check the History Channel and the Like, which was OK for about 5 minutes until the dead bodies and reports of atrocities started turning up and it all got a wee bit too serious for the likes of me.

So I decided my research should go this route instead, there's nothing like revisiting an old friend after years away.

The Beast in Heat (AKA La Bestia in Calore, Horrifying Experiments of the S.S. Last Days, S.S. Experiment Camp 2, SS Hell Camp. 1977).
Dir: Luigi Batzella.
Cast: Xiro Papas, Macha Magall, Salvatore Baccaro, Gino Turini, Kim Gatti and Mr. Brad Harris (I hope you're proud son).

"What a you screaming for you little fool?
My creature is only showing you a little tenderness"

Welcome to nasty Nazi occupied Europe sometime during World war II, where the evil (yet cutely button nosed) Dr. Ellen Krast (Magall from Private House of the SS, my darkest dreams and your dad's favourite film, Common Sense of Modesty) has been conducting bizarre and unethical experiments to aid in the creation of an Aryan Master Race.

Unfortunately it appears that the DNA of top 80's British comedy Christian Bobby Ball has accidentally been added to the genetic mix, causing the experiment to result in the creation of a short, bubble permed and hairy backed beast man (ex flower vendor Baccaro) who is born not only with a permanent erection but smelling of shit and with a nasty habit of eating lady bits.

Hang on, it might actually be Bobby Ball.

Embarrassed by the beasts almost constant wanking at the dinner table (and his habit of wiping his massive cock on female guests dresses) Dr. Krast has decided to try to cool his passions by tossing the occasional (nude) Jewish female into his cage in the vain hope of cooling his raging addiction to sex.

"Rock on Tommy!"

As you can probably guess this just makes the poor fella more excited and being unable to speak, he can only show his love and appreciation by tossing the unfortunate woman around like a ragdoll whilst sticking it in every available orifice (plus a few even I'd never seen before).

Luckily for those few watching that possess no imagination, our kindly director shows the entire assault in glorious close-up.

For around 15 minutes.

Not only that but when the lady involved dies (of either sheer boredom or embarrassment, who knows?) the beast continues to merrily shag her corpse.

Aw, how sweet.

Meanwhile back at the 'war is hell' bit of the plot, hunky resistance fighter Jeff Drago (Turini from such classics as Caligula and Messalina, Caligula Reincarnated As Nero and Caligula 2: Electric Boogaloo) who is busy setting fire to a school boys model of a bridge.

Bastard.

Jeff it appears is a bit of a loose cannon amongst the French Resistance, seeing as he enjoys fighting Germans and upsetting school kids, unlike his pals who only enjoy arguing amongst each other, drinking wine and surrendering at any given opportunity.

This difference of opinion has the resistance group at breaking point, leaving the local priest Don Lorenzo -Llamas (Eurotrash veteran Harris) with the job of pulling everyone together.

Oh and molesting all the wee boys of course.

Half naked brunette in a Nazi cap? Check. Robert Downey Jr. strung up like a pig? Check. Who says dreams can't come true?

All this bridge based terrorism has caused a bit of a headache for the head of the Nazi camp, the camp Nazi Captain Tony Hardinghauser (Gatti from Django's Cut Price Corpses) who is ordered by the evil General in charge of, um, things to round up the local old men, women and children and administer a jolly good beating till someone spills the beans regarding the resistance group.

The villagers however are made of stern stuff, standing stoically as the jackbooted German hordes smash their windows and kick over assorted pot plants, only losing their cool demeanour when one of the soldiers tosses a baby into the air before machine gunning it to streaky bacon like pieces.

This is the final score for Lorenzo -Llamas who (presumably upset at the loss of a new young bum to violate) proceeds to kick the shite out of anyone in a helmet.

From out of nowhere (but I'm guessing from behind the bins) steps the slinky Dr Krast who, after posing for a while in her far to tight uniform orders the village taken back to the camp.

It seems she has her own unique way of making them talk.

And yes it does involved her stripping down to her jackboots whilst rubbing herself against sweaty chained Frenchmen.

Which, I'll admit doesn't seem that upsetting a thought if I'm honest.

Saying that tho' one old man seems to think it's awful as he keeps screaming "Stop! stop!" every time she grabs his penis and gives it a wee shuggle whilst brushing her smooth milky breasts against her toasted cheese chest.

Being a woman she reacts to this rejection the same way as any of them would and chops it off with a rusty pen knife.

And with that the party can really start.

"Heil Hitler! Now let's all get

drunk and play Ping Pong!"

One of the villagers, Harry Niceman is stripped naked, hung upside down by his ankles and dunked in water whilst a big butch soldier whips his arse and whilst all this is going on the poor woman behind him is locked in a cage and attacked by a horde of vicious guinea pigs (sorry, I mean rats).

Don't worry about the beast missing out tho' as Krast is keeping him amused by tossing in the occasional filly for him to have his wicked way with.

It's like chucking out time in Glasgow city centre on a Saturday night.

Only with classier girls obviously.

"Laugh now!"

Will Krast get the information she needs to defeat the evil resistance and bring peace, order and group sex clubs to the world?

Will Drago be arsed turning up and saving everyone?

And will the beast's unnatural appetites ever be quenched?

The cinematic equivalent of being forcibly buggered by a stinky tramp in front of your loved ones, The Beast in Heat is most probably the scuzziest, most inept and possibly one of the most offensive things ever committed to celluloid that would be lucky to get greenlit let alone released today.

Everything about the film (bar Macha Magall) is utterly atrocious, from the cack-handed dubbing to the almost comedic overuse of stock footage and children's toy planes during the battle scenes via the obvious lack of cast members on show; three overweight extras double for an entire German platoon whilst the village appears to consist of only six people and a Tiny Tears doll.

It's obvious that more money must have been spent on keeping Salvatore Baccaro in pasta and lard than was spent on anything remotely important like costumes or a script and the entire enterprise seems to exist for no other reason than to offend the moral majority.

But even then it's just too boring to even consider sitting thru' unless of course you're a paraplegic and can't move from in front of the teevee without help.

Why your girlfriend didn't answer her phone last night.

Jack of all trades Luigi Batzella (AKA Gigi Batzella, Paull' Hamus, Dean Jones, Ivan Katansky and way too many more to list) directs (if you can call it that) with the style and deftness he brought to such forgotten classics as Dragon Bruce Le (never heard of it), Black Gold Dossier (nope that either) and of course Nude for Satan (finally! I've seen this one and it's shite too) forgoing any attempts at suspense or professionalism instead concentrating on the ammount of huge seventies bush he can cram on screen at any given time.

At least he had the decency (in this film at least) to cast (the aforementioned) Macha Magall as quite possiblt the sexiest SS officer this side of Udo Kier.

And for that we should be eternally grateful.

Probably.

Or not.

The Beast in Heat is one of those rare movies that if you've seen it you can never unsee it and if you haven't.....

well just don't bother.

war is hell.

Just got emailed the first promo image for what looks like the comic event of 2010 (if it can live up to the premise).

No more info available just now but thought I'd share.

Not to be confused with the oh so slightly camp transsexual musical, the accompanying synopsis (more of which later) looks great, tho' I'm unsure how the battalion of genetically engineered Auroch's fighting a bloody trench-war against the French resistance atop giant armoured snails is going to look.

mum's the word.

More cut out fun for you to enjoy now with this great dress up doll of my mum (AKA FemiNazi Agent D).

Remember to get an adult to help with the scissors.

don't cry for me argentina.

Sadomaster (2005)

Dir: Germán Magariños and Fernando Giangiacomo

Cast: Ezequiel Hansen, Leandro De la Torre, Francisco Pérez Laguna, Mariano Salas and Fernando Giangiacomo.

Asses and Nazi's.....pity there's
no dwarf action too.

Sunny Argentina is being destroyed from within by a particularly nasty bout of ultra-violence.

Nasty Nazi gangs are roaming the streets setting fire to tramps and molesting (leathery) old ladies and only senator Mauricio Beccar Varela (Laguna...like it matters) is man enough to tackle this onslaught of badness by implementing a zero tolerance of naughtiness campaign .

Unfortunately for the people of Argentina Varela leads a double life, by day his a kinda South American David Cameron but by night he is, in fact the evil ring leader of the Nazi gang responsible for the violence (Hang on, that's just David Cameron anyway).

"Are you my mummy?"

The violence goes from bad to worse, what with a defenseless Rabbi beaten to death by a group of junior Slip Knot wannabes and a leather clad perv who gets his kicks by urinating on babies it looks like the city is doomed.

What will it take for someone to take a stand against these rotters?

Surprisingly the answer to that question is actually quite simple, it take the brutal, drawn out torture and rape of a chubby, topless retarded man.

All in glorious close-up.

Lucky, lucky us.

The mutilated body is later discovered by a pissed homeless man walking down the street and looking for a wee bite to eat and, seeing the carnage in the gutter he proceeds to help himself to a spleen (they're full of vitamin C apparently).

Not a still from the film
(to be honest there are precious few I can show)
but a photo of some Pikey kids dogging school
(possibly to actually go dogging - who knows? )
and giving the vickies to the camera.

But as our stinky chum chows down a spooky pentagram begins to flash on the screen and the ghost of the dead chubby (as in dead and chubby, tho' he is actually dead chubby too) man appears from nowhere screaming “Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!”

Reckoning that becoming a black clad vigilante is probably a better career choice that rummaging thru' the bins, the homeless guy fashions himself a homemade gimp outfit and christens himself the Sadomaster before beginning a brutal series of revenge attacks against the gangs and the corrupt politicians.

A still from the aborted The Famous
Five/Frank Castle team-up.

Making up for his stinky fish breath lack of super powers and the fact that he rides a really crap moped by being generally hard as nails, The Sadomaster soon has the evil Nazi's on the run.

But things are probably going to get a lot worse (acting and plotwise) before they get better...

I say probably because by this point I gave up and went to bed. I mean there comes a point when you have to ask yourself is it really worth sitting up late at night feverishly scribbling notes on a film only myself (and possibly Julian Brazier will ever see) as a fat, sweaty Argentinian non-actor grinning like a loon in an attempt to appear to have learning difficulties has a huge rubber cock forced into his mouth in the background?

The final decision was made for me tho' when I caught sight of the pristine and vac sealed uncut copy of the Joe D'Amato classic Porno Holocaust hiding under a pile of Peppa Pig DVD's on my desk.

I mean who wants to watch such mindless and inept shaky cam rubbish as Sadomaster when you know that only a few feet away Mark Shanon's warty scrotum is awaiting your attention in all it's remastered wide screen glory?

Your nan on the phone yesterday.

Costing less than a McDonalds happy meal (and managing to be far less appetizing) this lo-fi revenge flik from the aptly titled Gorevision Films is the kind of movie that the self proclaimed art crowd will muse over for years to come whilst your connoisseur of cult movies (and no doubt all you fine readers here) will (hopefully) see it for the tragically un-hip Mad Foxes rip-off that it really is.

Gore, breasts, mouth-rape, evil Nazi's
and political commentary....



...or Mark Shannon's warty balls...
YOU decide!

Unfortunately Sadomaster was a big enough hit in Argentina to allow Magariños and Giangiacomo to continue making 'films', with their next opus Un Cazador de Zombis currently shooting back to back with an English language version of the same movie.

And I for one can't wait.

Can I just point out that to my many American readers the last bit was what we term irony, or put it this way; for can't wait I mean I hope their studio (and faces) burn down.

Now where are those genital warts....

cigarettes and alcohol.

La Tumba de los muertos vivientes (AKA Grave of the Living Dead, Oasis of the Zombies, Oasis of the Living Dead, Treasure of the Living Dead, Bloodsucking Nazi Zombies 1983)

Dir: Jesus Franco (probably, well the majority of it, as A.M. Frank)

Cast: Manuel Gélin, Eduardo Fajardo, Henri Lambert, Myriam Landson, Antonio Mayans, Eric Viellard, Javier Maiza, Albino Graziani, Miguel Aristu, Doris Regina, Caroline Audret, and France Lomay (but not Lina Romay-well not in this version).

"Quick, get some bottles to make Molotov cocktails with like in school".

From the writer (and original director) of Zombie Lake comes Oasis of the Zombies, possibly the second best Nazi zombie movie ever made.

Enjoy.

I know I did.

Our tale of terror opens with two ample arsed and tres foxy ladies (well from the back) have taken a trip from sunny Tripoli to visit a haunted oasis in the middle of the desert, as one would on holiday.

At least it's somewhere to park your bike.

The locals have been filing the girls heads with all sorts of scary stories about the oasis and how it's haunted by the restless spirits of murdered Nazi soldiers and the ladies, probably thinking that undead baby killers are less likely to try it on with them at the local disco than the greasy moustachioed natives decide to go take a look for themselves.

It comes as no surprise (to us that is, they seem visibly shocked) when they're dragged beneath the sands to their deaths by moldy bread-like hands....

"Laugh noooooooooo!!!"

Cut to rugged, porn 'tached Colonel Kurt Maitzell (Lambert) and his sexy chain smoking and oh so slightly stern wife (Landson) on vacation in Tripoli to catch up with one of his oldest military acquaintances, the stiff (upper lipped) Captain Robert Blabert Sr. (Maiza).

Landson: sexily supply teacher-like, yet still
replaced by Lina Romay in some versions.

Fighting on opposite sides during World War II (Maitzell alongside Rommel, Blabert with Monty) Maitzell has a business proposition for his former adversary; it appears that $6,000,000 worth of Nazi gold went missing during a battle in the Libyan desert and there’s every reason to think the gold is still there.

Blabert agrees and goes to fetch his map of the site but just when you think that the movie is going to become a kind of 'Indiana Jones vs. the undead' style adventure (albeit a wee bit cheaper) Maitzell stabs Blabert with a poisoned biro and legs it with the map and his wife.

Destination: the oasis (of death).

A short time later in London (England) , Blabert’s son, also named Robert (Gélin), receives a telegram regarding his dads death and so decides to embark post haste to Tripoli.

While he’s getting his stuff together for the journey, Robert Jr. finds his dad’s wartime diary, complete with the exciting tale of his mission to intercept the Nazi gold.

It's so exciting in fact that it causes the picture to go all wobbly as we experience an incredibly overlong flashback full of glaring continuity errors, too much acting and unnecessary sex scenes (much like the one in Zombie Lake if I'm honest)....

"I can see your house from here".

Important things that we learned from this sequence include the fact that between 1943 and 1983, Robert Snr. didn't age one jot (is he perchance related to Howard Vernon’s Zombie Lake Mayor Hoek?), that Robert Jr. was conceived during the war yet is only in his early twenties and that his mum was as a sheiks daughter (and played by the sultry-and slightly boss eyed- Doris Regina, star of Orgy of the Nymphomaniacs).

Lucky fella.

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

Anyway, Robert manages to persuade his pals, ugly Mark Hamill-alike Ronald (Viellard), lank haired troll Sylvia (Audret), and the pube headed, bespectacled Ahmed (Aristu, whom you may remember from The Night of Sincere Sex), to come to Libyan and hunt for the gold.


Back with Colonel Maitzell and his wife (admit it you'd forgotten about them hadn't you?), well it seems that they've arrived at the oasis (alongside some badly dubbed shirtless hired muscle) and have decided to rest the night and start excavations first thing in the morning.

Not even with Julian Brazier's.

Whilst the Colonel and his missis sleep (well he sleeps, she just continues to smoke) the muscle men sit around playing cards and thinking of the best way to screw over the Maitzells and keep the gold for themselves (they are very, very bad men).

Before they can make a decision tho' the dunes come alive with the sound of undead Nazis rising from their graves beneath the sand.

"Aye son!"

The Colonel manages to escape the ensuing blood bath but not before he's given a nasty hickie by one of the zombies (and we all know what that means), but being such a hard man he's able to stumble back to Tripoli and (luckily) stumble across Robert and his pals before dying badly.

"Wanna go for a ride in my love machine?"

Robert seems to find the whole situation a wee bit annoying as does Ronald seeing as it's interrupted his attempts to worm his way into the affections of the cutely blond, dungaree wearing Erika (Lomay from the classic Pussy Talk 2), assistant to kindly anthropologist Professor Denikan (Mansion of the Living Dead star Gratziano) and his colleague Steve Soontodie (he's that unimportant he doesn't even get a credit on the movie, poor sod....or very lucky sod depending on how you rate the film).

Maitzell not even cold when Dave Lee Travis decides to burn the Colonels body.

Which is nice.

This, the ex Radio One Deejay explains in great depth, is because anyone bitten by a zombie will rise from the dead (really? well I never).

Jason King: The messiah years.

Robert and his pals are suitably non plussed by all these tales of death (and the fact that the hairy cornflake has just torched a corpse) and reckon that after a good nights kip they can go visit the Sheik to borrow a camel then be at the oasis and back with the gold before tea time.

Also undeterred Denikan, yummy Erika (after some soft focus hot lovin' with Ronald), and Soontodie decide to leave for the desert straight away and set up camp ready for Rob and companies arrival.

"Is it in yet?"

The next day they finally get to Denikan's camp to find the scientific party covered in blood and love bites whilst their native guide runs around like a wuss screaming “The living dead! The zombies! The zombies that came out of the sandwich is there!”

Robert assumes this is some kind of sick joke, even going as far as to accuse Denikan of making the whole thing up when the poor guy wakes up shouting the same thing.

"You have a ladder in your tights
that goes all the way up".

With our heroes banded together at the oasis, the scene is set for a climactic battle between the living and the dead....which would be nice seeing as so far we've only seen the zombies for about 10 minutes in total.

The Degrassi family, Saltcoats, May
bank holiday weekend, 1976.

Suddenly the dead begin to rise from the dunes hell bent on eating the would be gold-baggers....

Will Robert and his friends survive the attack?

Will they find the gold?

Will Erika escape or will the zombies eat her whole? (seeing as most of the undead spit that bit out).

Is 'gold-baggers' actually a word?

And how many of my reviews will feature that 'joke' (which was way past it's sell by date when they used it in Carry On Columbus)?

"I'll do anything for those Cha-Cha heels!"

Franco's Oasis of the Zombies can be viewed as a terrifying companion piece to Jean Rollin's classic Zombie Lake, seeing as both films share a similar plot, villains and structure.

Oh yes, and the same script.

Bizarre as it sounds it's true and, to add even more confusion to the background of the epic Oasis was actually released in dozens of re-edited versions, each one concentrating on a different thread of the plot.

But the strangest thing regarding Oasis of the Zombies is that Franco shot two separate versions of the film simultaneously, one for the French market and one for the Spanish.

Neither of them that good.

"Curses He-Man!"

As with most (all?) Jess Franco flicks the acting varies from unemotional cardboard to sturdy MDF with most of the females being cast due to arse size rather than any thespian ability. Make-up wise the Nazi zombies are a step up from the green, gloss painted goons of Zombie Lake (which admittedly isn't that difficult) tho' some do look a wee bit too much like necrophiliac sex dolls for my liking.

The Ryan Seacrest love doll: Insert cock here.

Worth a look for any fans of the much maligned Nazi zombie genre or large 1970's European arses.