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!

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.

the twilight zone.

Prepare yourself for the greatest movie ever made.

Well, the greatest movie ever made featuring Pam Grier as a panther.


The Twilight People (1971).
Dir: Eddie Romero.
Cast: John Ashley, Pat Woodell, Pam Grier, Jan Merlin, Eddie Garcia, Charles Macaulay, Ken Metcalfe, Tony Gosalvez and Mona Morena.

Animal desires, human lust, furry rugs.

Hunky adventurer and general stud muffin Matt Farrell (Romero regular Ashley) is enjoying a well deserved scuba holiday somewhere off the Blackpool coast when he's unexpectedly man-napped by a couple of greasy foreign types eager to get a glimpse of his muscular tanned frame.

Trussed up like a (well fit) turkey and dripping with a mix of sea water and manliness our hero is taken aboard what looks like a disused (or stolen) car-ferry belonging to the blond haired, bad man Simon Steinman (Merlin, formerly of King Arthur's court), a man obviously obsessed (in more ways than I feel comfortable with) with Farrell, his arch enemy in the sexy stakes.

John Ashley: He's got something to put in you.

Steinman is in the employ of one Doctor Gordon Gordon (the potato-like co-star of Blacula, MacCaulay), eminent genetic crackpot, father to the gap-toothed vixen Neva (the curvy hipped and bomb breasted Woodell, former pop princess, star of The Big Doll House and the original Bobbie Jo Bradley on teevee's Petticoat Junction) and often described (by whom I've no idea) as the most brilliant scientist alive.

Stripped to his pants and junked up to his eyeballs on sherbet, Farrell is told that Gordon has been searching the world for a man both physically and mentally perfect and that Matt fits the bill.

Poor Gordon couldn't risk Farrell knocking him back so he hired Steinman, knowing of his love for Matt, to come up with an incredibly convoluted plan to capture our hero and bring him to the Doc's island home.

With nothing to do on the journey except get lusted over by both Steinman and Neva whilst wearing a natty collection of handmade shirts, Mike passes the time by quizzing everyone about Gordon's work, soon discovering that the mad medical man believes that the human race is destined for extinction and the only way of stopping this is to splice the human race together with various animals.

But obviously only the ones that live locally.

Or more realistically the ones that the pound shop had masks of.

You Woodell, twice.

Farrell’s first glimpse of Gordon's self proclaimed 'homo superior' is when saucy Steinman invites our hero to join in the pursuit of one of the escaped experimental subjects.

Partly to convince Farrell that escape is impossible but mainly to show off his chest and to impress Farrell with how well he handles his weapon.

Standing about in an uncomfortable silence waiting for something to happen, Steinman is just about to attempt to give Matt a reachround when a swarthy pikey with a boar's head appears out of the bushes, screeching like your mum during a particularly heavy anal session and wearing a tramps suit.

Seeing a fantastic chance to prove his manliness Steinman shoots the poor fucker in the face.

Ashley: John.

Looking down at the prone figure Matt has an inkling of what may be in store for him and fellow captive  Juan Pereira (Garcia from Beyond Atlantis, Beast of Blood and The Grateful Dead) but is frankly unconcerned, seeing as both he and Steinman know that he already has a horses cock.

But it's upon chatting about his ordeal with Dr. Gordon that things start to get confusing, seeing as everyone concerned seems to want to do something different to our heroic chum.

Nothing like a well thought out plan eh?

One one hand (tho' not Jeremy Beadle's) Dr. Gordon plans to remove Matt's brain and plonk it in a machine that will allow his consciousness to control all of the beast hybrids whilst Neva (understandably) has fallen for his rugged charms and wants to have babies with him and Steinman just wants to take Matt up the casino.

"Is it in yet?"

Much preferring to be a stone rather than a sponge, Matt decides to choose Neva as his escape ticket and after a quick fumble on the kitchen floor the buxom bombshell decides to help him escape.

But only if they can take all the manimals with them.

Farrell, thinking ahead to a career in the circus (OK then, running a freakshow) agrees but not before heading back to the house to abduct Dr. Gordon.

Luckily he manages this without a hitch seeing as Steinman and the boys have gone out for tapas, leaving Gordon alone and the door unlocked. 

So as Matt drags a tied up Gordon up the high road to freedom, Neva takes the low road (it's more scenic) to the beach alongside the most terrifying beasts ever committed to celluloid.

Yes, even more terrifying than a sweaty John Leslie serenading you from the foot of your bed.

Leslie: Sweat.

Ladies and gentlemen quake in fear as you are introduced to Ayesa the she-panther (the legendary Grier, in tiny black undies, facepaint and a comedy Jew beard), Lupa the wolf (smooth thighed Moreno in mini skirt and Chuckle Hounds mask), the pant wettingly bizarre Darmo the bat (a chest rug wearing, orange peel toothed and cardboard winged Gosalvez of I remember Bataan
fame), the stunning Kuzma the mantelope (a horned and bowl haired Metcalfe from TNT Jackson, looking all the world like Ed Begley Jnr.) and last but by no means least, Primo the horny ape (not credited so I'm assuming it's a real ape man).

Darmo: half man, half bat, all shite.

With Steinman, aided and abetted by a motley group of uninterested local extras in hot pursuit of Matt's much envied manass it's down to Neva and her amazing animal band to cause enough distractions to allow Farrell time to catch up.

Unfortunately the manimals, being out of their cages for the first time ever, all seem to have one thing on their mind.

Yup, it's rutting season on the farm.

Which is OK for Luma and Kuzma who seem to be a match made in (furry) heaven and Darmo who is busy rubbing himself inappropriately against a tree.

Ayesa on the other hand is too busy trying to bite everyone to care about sex which just leaves poor old Primo who, in his best drunken uncle way tries in vain to stick his simian sausage in Neva.

Suffice to say she's not impressed leaving Primo all flustered and a nasty sticky stain down the back of Neva's trousers.

Kate and William: He so horny.

But there's no time for Kleenex as Steinman is quickly catching up on Matt and Ayesa the she-panther is getting stroppy because no-one will let her bite Kuzma.

Will Neva be able to rally the beasts into some kind of competent fighting force before Sexy Steinman finds Matt?

Will Luma and Kuzma finally consummate their relationship?

And will Matt's ass escape unharmed?

"Teeth in mah mooth!"

From the legendary Eddie Romero, the hardest working director in the Philippines (47 films and still going) and creator of the famous 'Blood' saga comes this frankly mental hybrid of The Island of Doctor Moreau and The Most Dangerous Game really has to be seen to be believed.

Like a throwback to an earlier, more innocent age of mad doctors and wacky science The Twilight People is played straight by the cast (well if you can call anything Jan Merlin does straight), especially Romero regular Ashley and surprisingly Pam Grier, given that she spends the entire movie in a shammy leather mini dress, false nose and comedy teeth whilst miming to a dubbed on cat screech whilst the movies bonkers idea's regarding human evolution coupled with it's threadbare budget give the film an almost feckless charm that wins the viewer over in much the same way as you warm to a drunken, piss-stained tramp dancing in a street on Christmas Eve.

And that's even before I've mentioned the maminal make-up.

"You chase me now!"

 In a triumph of vision over practicalities, it veers wildly from the subtly  restrained like Kuzma whose body language and basic nose/antler prosthetic make him a fairly convincing human/antelope hybrid to the comedic genius that is Darmo the bat-man.

Worth the purchase cost alone, you'll find it almost impossible to believe that when the director was confronted with such a monstrosity as an actor who'd been blacked up, dipped in tea and rolled around on a barbers floor before ave a couple of hastily cut out bin bags stapled to his arms he didn't have a screaming fit or top himself but decided to give this creation centre stage.

Romero I salute you sir.

And to those of you who have never experienced the absolute joy of The Twilight People I can only say you're in for a treat.

Drop what/who you're doing and go get it now.

"oltre mah morte in mah mooth" she said.

Zombie Flesh Eaters 3 (AKA Zombie 4: After Death. 1988)
Dir: Claudio Fagrasso.
Cast: Jeff Stryker, Candice Daly, Don Wilson, Massimo Vanni, Nick Nicholson, Adrienne Joseph, Jim Gaines and some tramps.

Somewhere on a remote South Pacific island (or more likely in the kiddies play park behind the directors house), a scientific research team have been working on a cellular regenerative thingy in the hope of finding a cure for ingrowing toenails and bad breath.

In an attempt to get the local (glam rock frocked) natives onside, Dr. Godfrey Soontodie has offered to use this frankly bollocks scientific discovery to help cure the voodoo witch doctor's daughter of her terrifying bunions.

As is always the case in these situations the wee girl unfortunately dies.

It's off screen tho' so it's not that upsetting.

"Touch mah titties!"

Surprisingly the local witch doctor takes offence to this news and decides to put the curse of the dead on the island, its visitors and inhabitants.

Which is understandable if not a wee bit annoying for the rest of the tribe.

With a wave of his mighty (and very beefy) arms and a flash of homemade fireworks (but not alas a flash of old man thigh) literally all hell breaks loose.

Well it would if hell consists of an old lady in an ill fitting Halloween mask and a pair of Austin Powers teeth seemingly faking an orgasm whilst dancing like Ian Curtis (post suicide) on crack.

Laugh now.

It's not giving too much away to say that the dead rise and kill everyone.

Everyone that is except the lead scientists blonde moppet daughter, Jenny who survives the carnage thanks to a magic amulet given to her by her mother.

Well it's either actually magic or so cheap and nasty as to repel any self respecting zombie that sees it.

You can decide.

Flash forward 15 years later and a rescue team, led by the hunky Chuck (porn idol Jeff Stryker in a rare 'straight' role) is finally dispatched to discover why no-one has been returning their calls.

Well they took their time didn't they?

Also on the island (by some strange quirk of fate) is a by now all grown up Jenny (the late, great Daly from The Young and the Restless) accompanied by the slightly less attractive Louise (Joseph from Birds of a Feather), rentalunk Rod (Nicholson) and a couple of dirty mouthed gypsies.

Sod all this character stuff tho' we want to know what Team Chuck is up to.

Well, whilst wandering around in a cardboard cave left over from Michele Soavi's 'The Sect' our hero comes across the mysterious Book of the Dead.

Which is a change from my boyhood years watching him coming across a variety of buff arses.

How do they know it's the real book I hear you ask and not a pesky pretend one?

Well it does have the words BOOK OF THE DEAD printed on the cover in big bold letters, unlike those oh so obviously fake ones in stuff like The Evil Dead so I guess that clinches it.

"Shite in mah tramp bearded mooth!"

Chuck, in a vain attempt to prove he can read unaided - but also proving that he's never seen a horror movie - begins to shout random passages from the book (intercut with him shouting "Yeah baby! You're so fuckin' tight!" and pulling his cum face) not realising that the words, when read aloud are capable of bringing the dead back to life.

This'll be the same living dead that have actually been wandering around aimlessly for the past decade and a half from when that witch doctor read the same book, remember?

The writer obviously doesn't.

Some common people complaining about government benefit cuts yesterday.

Within minutes our heroes (well the folk on screen) are running for their very lives as hordes (I say hordes but I mean dozens) of foul smelling pikeys and illegal Eastern European immigrants (possibly) begin to rise slowly from their shallow graves intent on tasting the legendary Jeff Stryker's ample meat.

Or something.

Meanwhile jumpy Jenny and co. have problems of their own (obviously we're discounting the obvious ones like lack of acting ability and bad breath) caused by a lone maggot covered tramp falling on them from behind a tree and covering one of them in sick.

Running away screaming they soon stumble across the deserted medical research facility (in reality the directors local scout hut) once run by Jenny's folks where they're soon joined (c'mon, the running times not that long) by Chuck who has managed to escape the scary flesh eaters by leaving his team to die whilst he sneaked away sobbing like a baby.

What a guy.

Luckily for the survivors this peaceful medical centre is chock full of weapons  giving the male cast members ample opportunity to pose in a topless sweaty manner whilst firing a variety of semi-automatic weaponry indiscriminately at various unpaid extras who are then expected to fall of roofs and be set on fire in the vain hope of securing a work permit or at least a new pair of shoes for their kids.

Ain't capitalism grand?

But the humans are fighting a losing battle as one by one they are overcome by the advancing dead.

Deciding the blow up the centre in an attempt to convince the zombies it's Bonfire night and thus giving them a chance to escape (plus they reckon it might add a wee bit of much needed excitement to the movie), sole survivors Jenny and Chuck make a break for the woods only to find themselves back in the very cave where the spooky witch doctor started the undead plague to begin with.

With the zombie army closing in and Chuck down to firing blanks, Jenny clutches the magic amulet, praying for a miracle.

Well it's either that or she's cursing her agent.

Insert cock...well anywhere you fancy really.

Will our toothsome twosome escape?

Will the zombie hordes attack Jenny and eat her whole?

Or will they spit that bit out?

Or will Chuck die whilst something slight and fairly incomprehensible happens to Jenny?

Jeff Stryker, up the casino, 1988...Yesch!

Best known for it's frightening amount of alternate titles (After Death being the most common and Zombi 4 being the easiest to spell) as well as being shot on sets constructed for Michael Soavi's 'The Sect' and filmed entirely using camera's and equipment borrowed from the set of Bruno Mattei's 'Strike Commando 2' (which was filming nearby), Claudio Fagrasso's -AKA Clyde Anderson- Zombie Flesh-Eaters 3 is the near pinnacle of bad movie making made flesh, a cinematic black hole so dire that not even light can escape from it's spiny celluloid fingers.
Imagine the worst unsafe sex ever with the most foul, STD ridden, crab panted whore imaginable, then imagine that as you're about to cum (against your better judgement) you look down and realise that this pock marked, toothless crone you've payed £5 to probably catch AIDS from is, in fact, your Gran.

You know...the dead one.

This is the effect After Death can have on a normal cinema goer.

But saying that, imagine how amusing it would be if you saw this happen to a friend.

So I guess you pays your money you takes your chance.

Funnel or tunnel?

Wise men say that you can't choose who (or what) you fall in love with tho' and like the three legged dog you should put down but decide to nail to a skateboard, After Death stays with you long after the DVD has been ejected.

Just like Hepatitis C or the feeling of shame you get after watching your parents home made porn and realising your in it, drugged up to the eyeballs and wearing a dress.

But if, like me tho' and you're one of the lucky few that enjoys Claudio Fragrasso's work, especially his top notch collaborations with Bruno Mattei ('Zombie Creeping Flesh' and 'Rats : Night of Terror') then jump in and enjoy.

But to be honest I really think that you should get out more.

davie says: warbeck, hide yourself.

L’Ultimo cacciatore (AKA The Last Hunter, Hunter of the Apocalypse. 1980).
Dir. Antonio Margheriti
Cast: David Warbeck, Tisa Farrow, Tony King, Sir Bobby of Rhodes, John Steiner and Margit Evelyn Newton.

The time: 1973, the place: a wee drinking club somewhere in downtown Saigon where the suave and sweaty Colonel Morris (horror god and almost Bond, the late great Dame David Warbeck) is spending his time drinking warm booze and watching a bored Vietnamese whore trying to dance in an erotic manner (and failing miserably, poor cow) whilst attempting to calm down his young male 'friend' Steve, who appears to be heading toward a tearful wank based Pot Noodle breakdown due to his missis leaving him and the fact that the prostitute lying across his bare chest keeps wanting to stroke his hairy man breasts.

We've all been there.

After resigning himself to the fact that it's gonna be his job to clean up all the sweat, egg, semen and blood stains later whilst poor Steve dribbles in a ditch, you can imagine Morris' surprise when his forlorn pal suddenly sobers up and shoots some random GI in the face before offing himself.

And if that wasn't enough to ruin our heroes Saturday night somebody then decides to firebomb the club.

War it seems, is indeed hell.

Luckily for us (and for the film in general) Morris quickly legs it before the whole place goes up in cheap gin and piss soaked flames, watching in horror (or with mild apathy, I couldn't really tell) as everyone else is burnt to death.

Warbeck: You would
(tho' he'd probably not give you a choice).

There's no time for tears tho' because the top brass are sending Morris behind enemy lines.

His mission?

Jump out of (what looks like the BBC outside broadcast) helicopter into a small pond, meet up with the hard as nails bastard squad, led by the badass Sgt. George Washington (king, from Cannibal Apocalypse and The Atlantis Interceptors) and his pal Carlos (the legendary Rhodes), then traipse thru' the directors garden in order to 'silence' (they may mean blow up) a radio tower broadcasting evil propaganda messages telling the American soldiers to go home.

So far so Apocalypse Now.

Narrowly avoiding a rubber snake (or was that a real snake and a rubber Warbeck?), Morris manages to find Washington and company only to discover that they're dragging top lady reporter Jane Foster (Farrow, the slightly sleazier - not to say considerably more ginger sister of Mia) around with them for no other reason than that she must have been shooting another film nearby at the same time.

Which is fair enough I guess but does make you keep wondering when the zombies are going to attack.

Farrow: harsh.

Taking time to go the scenic route (and fill out the movie's running time) our motley crew come across a small village populated by tiny, machine gun wielding Vietnamese woman with a nice line in exploding babies to shoot at.

Unfortunately Washington is wounded in the ensuing firefight meaning our heroes have to retreat into the jungle or face getting beaten by girls.

Cue twenty odd minutes of rotting corpses falling from trees, Tisa Farrow's sweaty nipples becoming more and more visible thru' her vest top and various members of the team getting pinned to trees by big spiky boobytraps.

But alas still no zombies.

Or even cannibals for that matter.

But this lack of flesh eater action is the least of Warbeck's worries, seeing as the base camp (well base cave really) he's has to report to on the final leg of his mission seems to be run by the scary bloke from Sparks (skinny legged Argento regular Steiner) and that all the soldiers under his command are off their tits on drugs.

To show how stoned they actually are (and how the horrors of war can warp a man) the entire camp start rubbing themselves up and wolf whistling when Tisa Farrow turns up.

I'd just like to point out that I'm in no way saying she's not attractive but she's standing next to a wet David Warbeck clad only in a vest and too tight combats....and that's enough to turn anyones head.

Luckily for Tisa, Major Sparks despite being camp as pants and having little thin rubber legs, is a nice man and at the first sign of any John Leslie style behavior from his troops is quickly stamped out by sending them pole vaulting behind enemy lines to fetch him a coconut or two.

"Look! a telescope with a mouse in it!"

But this jolly japery can't last forever and it's not too long before 'Charlie' (a character we never learn the true identity of) attack the cave system, kidnap Tisa and machine gun everyone inside (except for Morris and his buddies).

Escaping to the local boating pond, Carlos is cruelly killed whilst stealing a junk whilst Washington clumsily trips over a corpse and snaps his leg in half, giving him and Morris a wee chance to discuss the futility of war and stuff.

After a series of meaningful glances Morris jumps overboard (either to continue his mission or because he can't stand anymore of the incredibly stilted and frighteningly cliched dialogue), leaving Washington at the mercy of the Viet Cong machine gun nests serendipitously hidden around the next bend.

"Aya! Mah BCG!"

With a look of grim determination (or constipation, it's hard to tell) Morris continues further into the jungle, alone and armed with only a kids spud gun and a sweat mottled pair of man breasts, determined to complete his mission before heading home for tea and crumpets.

Nice as this idea is it soon all goes tits up when he's captured by the ever present Charlie and dumped shoe-less in a rat infested water cage with only a man with a melted cheese face for company.

Can anyone help our hero?

Well Tisa's sitting sipping rice tea in a holiday chalet overlooking the prison (and the rent) so hopefully she'll get up off her fat arse and finally add something to the plot....

But will she be able to waddle down to rescue Morris before the rats begin to nibble on his man bits?

"Hey Tisa, according to this article your
brother in law's been shagging Mia's weans!"

Genre busting genius Antonio (Bed of a Thousand Pleasures, Cannibal Apocalypse, Yor, the Hunter from the Future and Code Name: Wild Geese amongst others) Margheriti's The Last Hunter has everything Apocalypse Now! should have had (including a considerably shorter running time) and much more.

Except zombies unfortunately but you can't have everything.

It's pedigree is second to none featuring as it does star turns from Fulci faves David Warbeck and Tisa Farrow aided and abetted by a top cast of Italian icons including Bobby (Demoni) Rhodes, John (Tenebrae) Steiner and Margit Evelyn (Zombie Creeping Flesh) Newton. Behind the scenes it has cult composer Franco (everything from Black Demons to music featured on the Death Proof and Ren and Stimpy show soundtracks) Micalizzi's sexy synth sounds and craftily crude special effects from the Philipino Savini himself Apollonio Abadesa.

"Fuck me! a wasp!"

And although Margheriti's entire career seems to have consisted of making cheap knock offs of bigger, more famous movies the director didn't seem to mind, giving his all and making the most of the motley assortment of the cliched characters and situations in evidence.

From the hard bitten soldiers to the snatches of inappropriate nudity via scenes of extreme violence, Margheriti also manages to fill the movie with just enough cod "war is hell" speeches to almost convince you that you're actually watching something worthwhile and meaningful as opposed to just sitting eagerly awaiting the next over the top death scene or the chance of a quick look at Tisa Farrow's (admittedly) rather shapely breasts.

And if that doesn't get you salivating then I don't know what will.

mattei son.

Zombies: the Beginning (AKA Zombi: La creazione. 2007).
Dir: Bruno Mattei (as Vincent Dawn).
Cast: Yvette Yzon, Gerald Acho, Alvin Anson, Dyane Craystan, Jim Gaines, Paul Holme, B.B. Johnson, James Gregory Paolleli and Mike Vergel.

Discovered floating on a makeshift raft somewhere off the coast of Blackpool, the lone survivor of the good ship Dark Star, Sharon ( Yzon, back for more) is taken to a local hospital by a group of hunky yet spookily dubbed medics where, unlike the previous films ending, she doesn't die and return as a zombie but just has bad dreams about rising from the dead instead.

What a cheat!

If that wasn't bad enough, the insurance company seem hell bent on blaming her for the loss of the ship/death of the crew rather than believe her tale of marauding zombies, creepy Conquistadors and flamenco dancing demons inhabiting an island that can't be found on any nautical map.

I mean, who'd make that shit up?

"I never done it!": Yzon, Shot to fuck but
still fitter than your mum.

Whilst the fat cats tut loudly Sharon is forced to swear at an old woman and knock a glass of water over before stomping off in a huff to live in a monastery.

As one would if you'd been pulled up at work accused of killing your workmates (and writing off the delivery van).

No, it's not a pearl necklace nor did I give it to here.

Skip forward a year and Shazza is still in the monastery, sleeping on the floor, having flashbacks to the last movie (on a plus side tho' the monks outfit and slicked back hair makes her look hotly exotic), fetching water and other stuff that monks do when, out of the blue (well, out of a car but you know what I mean) one Mr. Barker (Holme), representative of an important pharmaceutical company The Tyler Company (that is no way related to The Umbrella Corporation or Weyland Yutani) turns up to see her.

Seems that six months earlier his company sent a scientific team to the very same island to capture a few undead specimens to transport to a secret lab to experiment on.

All contact with the team has been lost so Barker wants Sharon to head up a rescue mission, consisting of a squad of tough marines, one of which looks like a down at heel, heroin addled stripper (yes, I'm talking about you Craystan), the aforementioned Barker and a geeky scientist to the island to discover what's happened.

Hang on, this plot sounds very familiar.

Anson might look the suave, macho bastard right
now but you just wait till the fucking starts...

Arriving at the secret island research centre (in reality a couple of lean to sheds and a disused tennis court) via model submarine our happy go lucky marines head towards some stock footage of a gas works in the vain hope of unraveling the mystery of the disappearing scientists.

Hint: zombies may be involved.

Setting up camp in a disused lab the team are horrified (well I think the reaction is horror, it may be mild apathy) to discover row upon row of strange, coffin-like glass containers housing all manner of bizarre, genetically altered humans (oh, and a few Tiny Tears dolls painted green) and a wall of steel cages containing a dozen or so very dead (and very naked) Filipino extras.

Suddenly and without warning (well, if you discount the slightly scary music building to a crescendo and monsters eye view of the scene) a hideously deformed, split stomached woman lunges out of the shadows towards a terrified Barker.

Luckily studly marine Taylor (Anson) is on hand to shoot her in the face whilst grimacing badly.

Insert cock here.

Deciding that it'd probably be a good idea if they had a wee look around and secured the area (rather than all vying to get into shot whilst trying to look the most scared), tough guy Thompson (loud voiced Acho...bless you) leads the squad into what looks like a post rave warehouse to look for any survivors.

After what seems like an eternity of Thompson shouting orders whilst lard arse Private Ludman (Vergel) quotes entire pages of Hudson's dialogue from Aliens the eventual gloom and deathly silence is abruptly broken by the 'ping ping' of the teams motion detectors.

Someone (or something) is approaching...

Could it be a vile mutant thing?

An undead horde?

A giant chicken perhaps?

no.

It's a naked dwarf, covered from head to (tiny) toes in green house paint wearing a pair of joke shop Austin Powers-esque teeth and a paper mache headpiece with a ping pong ball eye stuck to the top.

Dribbling.

Taking a minute to compose themselves (and no doubt a filming break to dry their eyes), our macho mob do what any self respecting person would (no, they don't pick the wee fella up and give him a hug).

They torch the freaky fucker with a flamethrower.

...Iggle Piggle's not in bed....

Legging it back to the lab like a pack of terrified Brownies escaping from a tent with a spider in it, Ludman spends the next ten minutes complaining that 'We're not equipped for this shit!' (what? how can you not be equipped for setting fire to dwarfs?) and trying to convince a by now almost sonic booming Thompson that they should all go home.

Just when it looks like they may just pack up and call it a night (which had me worried cos it means I'd have to pick another movie to watch and I've only got Black Sun- The Nanking Massacre, a compilation of Doctor Who fan films and Bloody Beast within reach at this point), the stripper points out that she's found the location of the missing members of the scientific crew. It seems that each one has a special tattoo that works a bit like a car alarm or something which means that the mission is back on (much to Ludman's delight).

Everyone gets suited and booted for a quick trip to the bases underground power core to grab the scientists and head home in time for tea.

"Rrrrrrrraaaaaauuughhhhhhhh Rrrrroooowwww!"

Leaving Barker, Shazza, specky Brit science guy and man in charge Lt. Gorman (well, this movies equivalent) behind to watch the teams progress on teevee the squad sneak across the car park, behind the bins and into the (wooden doored) power station.

Moving deeper and deeper into the complex they come across a vast (well, I say vast, it's about the size of a small kitchen) storeroom filled with plastic wrapped bodies suspended from hooks, slime oozing from the walls and an unnatural and thoroughly evil eggy smell emanating from a large vent in the wall.

And if that wasn't enough, on a large table in front of them lies a frighteningly pregnant woman with oozing excema and really bad dentures.

Kramer (still shit faced on cheap crack), being the lady of the group, goes over to comfort this poor wreck, who can only mumble "kill me" before her stomach erupts in a shower of grue revealing a melted doll covered in syrup.

Cue the flame thrower (well they have paid thru' the nose to hire it).

Exotic sweaty girls with machine guns....
what all cinema should be about.

Whilst all this is happening, Private Soontodie nervously peers thru' the hole (probably looking for biscuits) just as a horde of unwashed homeless extras crawl out, moaning and shuffling like a band of Glasgow neds on a Saturday night out.

The soldiers panic and start firing off indiscriminately before legging it back to the school bus (sorry, armoured personnel carrier) parked outside.

Shazza, stuck behind a teevee monitor watching a bunch of highly trained fighting machines running screaming thru' dingy corridors whilst piss stained tramps try to bite their arses, decides it's time to act (no, i'll resist the temptation to comment), grabbing a big gun and charging to the rescue whilst Barker stands around stroking his beard and Gorman repeatedly takes off his hat and rubs his head in a kind of 'what the fuck have I agreed to be in?' manner.

"It's Cccccccchhhhhrrrrriiiissstttmmmaaassss!!!!!!"

After an explosive shoot out and subsequent rescue that would make a gang of five year olds playing soldiers proud the survivors regroup in a nearby kiddies playhouse to plan their next move.

And it's not looking good for our heroes.

The submarines not due back for a fortnight, they're almost out of ammo and it looks like there's a traitor in their midst.

Kramer it turns out, is the teams electronics expert (everything else I can accept but this is a leap too far) and volunteers to go out and fix the antennae array (from the state of her I wouldn't trust her to fix me a sandwich) whilst the others sit about and sweat.

Everything seems to be going to plan until Barker tries to kill Sharon (yup, he's a bad guy, trying to sneak zombies back to the mainland to help cure cancer or something), Kramer gets ripped in half by a gorilla (no, really) and the undead break thru' the cardboard lab doors hungry for flesh (and by the way they look at Taylor a wee bit of tanned manass too).

Inside Gary Glitters mind.

The retreat is short and bloody leaving only Taylor and Sharon alive and stuck in the back of a van surrounded by the undead (and unwashed).

But it's not all doom and gloom, luckily Kramer's sacrifice (oh, OK, stupidity in not seeing a bloody great gorilla) wasn't in vain, she managed to send an SOS to the sub and it'll be on site in an hour or so.

Giving Sharon just enough time to head into the bowels of the base to confront the real horror behind the zombie menace....

Mattei had a hard job ahead of him if he was going to match the all round shoddiness and ineptitude of Island of The Living Dead when he decided to film this nail biting sequel - luckily he managed to not only match it but in some ways even surpass the unbelievable levels of incompetence achieved previously.

The plot (and much of the dialogue) is borrowed wholesale from Aliens with the climax of the Luigi Cozzi classic Contamination thrown in for good measure, all held together bythe largest collection of non actors ever assembled in one room, every one of the bravely and with surprising straightness, uttering the most clichéd and banal dialogue ever committed to celluloid.

And frankly it's a joy to behold.

Yvonne contemplates the stuffed crust.

Thoughout the rot there are shots that echo the greatness of Bava and Argento, reminding you of Mattei's early career as a film editor and whilst none of his films ever live up to there basic premise, his unwavering belief in and love for horror cinema coupled with his willingness to embrace new technologies and ideas enabling him to carry on working well after most of his contemperaries had thrown in the hat.

Never anything less than totally entertaining, Mattei's gore soaked swansong is the perfect end to an illustrious career in zombie cinema.

the return of bruno.

It's been a great couple of weeks for unearthing lost treasures, not only did I acquire the toptastic Star Odyssey but I finally got my mitts on the English dub versions of the late, great(ish) Bruno (he of Zombie Creeping Flesh fame) Mattei's final two movies.

Who says I'm not easily pleased?

First up prepare to visit the.....

Island of the Living Dead (AKA L'Isola dei morti viventi. 2006)
Dir: Bruno Mattei (as Vincent Dawn)
Cast: Yvette Yzon, Franco Miguel, James L. Gaines Sr, Ronald Russo, Ydalia Suarez, Alvin Anson, Gary King Roberts, Curtis Carter and Thomas Wallwort.

Many years ago on a mysterious Spanish ruled island a group of (strangely Filipino looking) Conquistadors are having a wee bit of bother with the witch doctor and his chums.

You see, it seems that as soon as a member of the party/locals/traveling salesmen and the like dies they immediately come back to live as pasty faced angry zombie/vampire/general undead things.

The forts soldiers are having the worst of it tho', seeing as they've got the incredibly monotonous job of piling the corpses onto the back of a wagon just to see them re-animate and wander off again.

Slightly annoyed by this turn of events, the islands captain decides it'd be much easier to shoot them in the head and set fire to them. Which would be great if one of his overzealous pals hadn't decided to torch the curtains too.

Confused whether to be more afraid of the undead hordes outside or the chance of burning to death the entire garrison of terrorized soldiers flee....running straight into a band of sword wielding, undead pirates.

Is your hair all you let down when you have a drink?

Meanwhile, back in 'the modern times' the good ship Dark Star (a very expensive salvage/research vessel cunningly disguised as an old tug) and it's hearty crew are busy combing the ocean floor for treasure.

And just as they're about to give up and go home for tea the team's pocket sized scientist Sharon (yumsome Yvette Yzon) announces that sees located a huge treasure chest full of loot.

All is going swimmingly until the crew begin to raise the chest and pop it on board. After a flying start the bottom drops out causing all the gold and glittery stuff to go cascading back into the sea.

Discouraged and a little disheartened, they decide to crack open a beer and break out the Pringles before heading home, but there's even more bad luck on the horizon....a spooky mist envelops the vessel forcing it to run aground on a mysterious, uncharted island.

The ships drink sozzled captain, the unfortunately named Kirk (the gone to seed David McCallum lookalike that is Sir Ronald of Russo), decides that they'd better explore whilst Max the bubble permed engineer (Wallwort) stays on board to drink Lilt and shout at the engines.

I wouldn't want that swimming

up my arse....but then again...

Arriving on a deserted beach the crew decide to split up and explore. Sexy Sharon, tubby George Galloway wannabe Mark (Roberts) plus the hulking, bleached blond (and oh so slightly fey) Tao (Miguel) will go and search for food and water, whilst the ever more tipsy Captain Kirk, cool guy Fred (Anson, looking like the long lost son of Erik Estrada), shouty and permanently pre-menstrual Victoria (pouting, poppy eyed popstrel Suarez) and superbad mo-fo Snoopy (Gaines) go looking for other stuff.

Making their way thru' the thick jungle vegetation (oh OK then, a local kiddies adventure playground) Sharon and co. stumble across an old an old cemetery (as well as their dialogue) shrouded in the same ghostly fog that enveloped the ship before it ran aground...and slowly lurching out of the mist towards them is a shambling figure that may have once been a man....

"Aaarrgghhh...this isn't what I meant

by taking me up the casino!"

Sharon, ever the helpful one, decides to stand perfectly still till the approaching putrefying tramp gets close enough to grapple her to the ground (perhaps she likes a bit of rough?) thus giving Mark ample time to trip over a gravestone and scream for help.

Luckily Tao is a champion kick boxer who's been itching for a fight since they arrived on the island, so he's more than happy to jump in and fight the undead groper whilst his two colleagues leg it to safety and leave him to get bitten to death.

Friends eh?

Elsewhere on the island, captain Kirk (I'm sorry, but it makes me laugh just typing it) and his merry band have discovered the overgrown ruins of the Spanish outpost.

Taking tentative steps into the dark, dank interior, Fred manages to go crashing thru the floor and end up in a torture chamber (as one does) full of joke shop skeletons and pound shop candles.

The room also contains a mysterious book, bound in pigs ear and inked in Crayola. Kirk, showing off reads a few pages, pointing at the illustrations and making animal noises as he goes.

it appears that the book is about the dead coming back to life and devouring the living...

Been done, hasn't it?

Beware the binmen!

Back on board the boat, Max is onto his twelfth can of pop and passing gas like a steam engine as his vain attempts to repair the engines by rubbing them whilst shouting abuse at anyone within earshot (i.e. himself mainly) comes to nothing.

Hearing a banging on deck as well as noticing a faint whiff of cabbage mixed with stale urine he assumes that Kirk has come back to check up on his progress, so as you would imagine, Max is rather surprised when a gaggle of undead Spaniards start tottering down the engine room steps toward him licking their stringy lips in anticipation.

Understandibly he begins to panic and, whilsy attempting to escape accidentally hits the 'blow the ship up' lever.

"Ron Resrie!"

The resulting explosion brings everyone running back to the shore just in time to see what looks like a giant paper replica of the Dark Star sink slowly beneath the waves, leaving the brave crew trapped on a zombie infested island as night draws in.

Kirk and co. must find a safe haven for the night if they're to survive on this mysterious, undead filled island.....

"Raugh Row!"

Whilst most directors gave up on the zombie horror genre after the bubble burst in the late eighties, Mattei decided to soldier on, hoping to top his magnum opus Zombie Creeping Flesh.

This dream took him from his native homeland of Italy to the temperate jungles of the Philippines via the guerrilla realm of digital video technology.

And the results were well worth the plane fees.

With it's wafer thin plot, copious amounts of stock footage and rough edged special effects, Island of the Living Dead resurrects the golden age of the shlock horror zombie genre, dragging it kicking and screaming into the digital age.

And it seems nothing has changed except the ethnicity of the actors involved.

But trust me, dear reader when I tell you that this is, in fact, a good thing.

Yzon: you would. Twice.

Featuring zombies mixed with an ample helping of vampirism, Voodoo and a snatch of flamenco dancing, Mattei bravely sticks to what he does best, which of course is churning out no-budget horror 'epics' whose plots are straining to hold out with the miniscule budgets involved.

Which goes to prove once and for all that God does indeed love a tryer.

The cast (and Yvette Yzon's breasts, barely controlled by the thin
orange t shirt restraining them) ham it up for the camera.

Worth a looksie for the first appearance of latter day Mattei muse Yvette Yzon (star of the sequel Zombies: The Beginning and Anima Persa) alone, Island of the Living Dead is an off coloured, moss stained gem of a movie, worthy of a place in the tarnished crown of Italian undead epics.

Unless you've been force fed a diet of Zac Snyder/Rob Zombie remakes when frankly you shouldn't even be wasting my time reading this.

Go on, treat yourself today.