tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10212091892626164052024-03-05T12:17:40.533-08:00TED DANSON ON THE CEILINGA CAREFUL CRITICAL ANALYSIS OF 20TH CENTURY FILM AND ITS PSYCHOMETAPHYSICAL RAMIFICATIONS UPON POPULAR CULTURE. AND SHIT LIKE THAT.The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-24963833366935542792011-05-02T20:03:00.000-07:002011-05-02T20:10:24.270-07:00THE GIRL SLAVES OF MORGANA LE FAY (1971)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROA6Wp3X0etAvdQe3m2woZWNwM7qMuYQnDGS7kf1SnHMKZ3Cx9YBLGyqeGsrAJ5abBpLM5YDQV97j1g0DoXGkxuNU_B6Hb3fy-gb1XJ8ua5E_ITe9wqDrs2BQVpjNaGiziqHwXU2RiWld/s1600/morgana_le_fay_02.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602321056920748738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROA6Wp3X0etAvdQe3m2woZWNwM7qMuYQnDGS7kf1SnHMKZ3Cx9YBLGyqeGsrAJ5abBpLM5YDQV97j1g0DoXGkxuNU_B6Hb3fy-gb1XJ8ua5E_ITe9wqDrs2BQVpjNaGiziqHwXU2RiWld/s400/morgana_le_fay_02.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>VERY NICE PERIOD COSTUMES. AND BY PERIOD COSTUMES I MEAN TITS.</strong><br /><br /><br /><p><br />Ask yourself before renting this one - <strong><em>why</em></strong> do I wanna watch this? For the hot swingin' 70's action? There ain't none. This thing crawls like a baby on fly paper. For the groovy 70's backdrops? Go rent "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls" instead, it's a much more entertaining film. And sorry, if you're just here to check out the ample T&A, that's Strike 3 - there ain't that much, and what there is ain't worth it. Imagine the worst Skinemax After Dark movie from 1975 and then take out the hardcore (if they haven't already). Morgana Le Fay now hawks Wrinkle Cream on QVC at 3 in the morning, and her Girl Slaves now tour with Englebert Humperdinck. They were <strong><em>both</em></strong> good career moves.<br /><br /><br /><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRib_WkjxQlr623C85i_Q8aDgCoNczBmt7a1QMeR7pQLYbD1UzquO3XDs-5jzNd0UpXDVURTM_w8cFaV5Iz6UU3vqLEwKqBqP7TXCnEIxEU_c7UY07P_EZtdahwOL0bnU5QWdO5XjVOyy1/s1600/morgana_le_fay_03.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602321534554041970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRib_WkjxQlr623C85i_Q8aDgCoNczBmt7a1QMeR7pQLYbD1UzquO3XDs-5jzNd0UpXDVURTM_w8cFaV5Iz6UU3vqLEwKqBqP7TXCnEIxEU_c7UY07P_EZtdahwOL0bnU5QWdO5XjVOyy1/s400/morgana_le_fay_03.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>ODD THAT CPR SHOULD GIVE ME A BONER.</strong> </div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-56234732366690384822011-04-18T20:17:00.000-07:002011-04-18T20:19:03.098-07:00LATHE OF HEAVEN (1980)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5gOEdlV9R7YjUVgn8xQahMR7i0ENreYz2Kahqfd_T8-EOEO0SROoHCnZDBKN7Thyapbog3rJiq3e3GGf1bmAL63VG9oLI86JTh7zU-cOB5THQIh2ssN683-6ZM5kaW2Kz8b-hN5_NTWlk/s1600/lathe_of_heaven17.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597128936581656482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5gOEdlV9R7YjUVgn8xQahMR7i0ENreYz2Kahqfd_T8-EOEO0SROoHCnZDBKN7Thyapbog3rJiq3e3GGf1bmAL63VG9oLI86JTh7zU-cOB5THQIh2ssN683-6ZM5kaW2Kz8b-hN5_NTWlk/s400/lathe_of_heaven17.jpg" border="0" /></a> <br /><div>Sorry, LeGuin fans. It ain't the lack of special effects that destroy this one. It's the lack of coherent thought. <strong><em>Every time</em></strong> this guy dreams of something (and his dreams come <strong><em>true</em></strong>, you see, now there's a novel idea), he screws it up! You'd think he'd be just a <strong><em>tad </em></strong>more careful what he dreams about after, oh, the <strong><em>third or fourth</em></strong> screwup, but he's not, and neither is the doofus scientist who's controlling the experiment. So things just get worse and worse until Professor Brainless decides to harness Dreamboy's power for himself, and golly gee I wonder <strong><em>what's </em></strong>gonna happen next? I like Ursula LeGuin. She seems like a sweet old lady. But if this is her finest hour, she better look into getting a show on the Cooking Channel or something.</div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-83413499650944856062011-04-07T17:28:00.000-07:002011-04-07T17:36:46.006-07:00FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE (1977)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVk0OgNA9uebD5JOuLfpXbETFlcB4RBT1tNfKiBexEjRYAWUZ-Q1JM-xcUwypAZ5wlxGP7OL9iYyUthCY0XgEOjP753XgP8x8LvedU14oUr6WGP98LRsYPbUauFF5rlQhXAWfg1lLlazld/s1600/fight+for+your+life.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593004472871708786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVk0OgNA9uebD5JOuLfpXbETFlcB4RBT1tNfKiBexEjRYAWUZ-Q1JM-xcUwypAZ5wlxGP7OL9iYyUthCY0XgEOjP753XgP8x8LvedU14oUr6WGP98LRsYPbUauFF5rlQhXAWfg1lLlazld/s400/fight+for+your+life.bmp" border="0" /></a> <br /><div align="center"><strong>I'LL ASK YOU ONE MORE TIME. <em>WHERE</em> DID YOU HIDE THE FURBIES?</strong> </div><br /><p>Hey, a cross between <strong><em>Funny Games</em></strong> and <strong><em>All In The Family</em></strong>! William Sanderson reads from the Racial Epithet Thesaurus while his genuinely crazed Asian friend rips a blouse off a white girl and takes a brick to the head of a young boy, and some Latino dude panics alot and wears authentic 70's pimp shirts. This is a film made in a time when men were <strong><em>men,</em></strong> goddammit. They drove Mercurys with 8-cylinder engines. They smoked cigarettes proudly and blew smoke in the face of any pansy ass who dared to object. And they lusted after full-bodied <strong><em>women</em></strong> like Lynda Carter and Raquel Welch and Pam Grier - little crack whores like Natalie Portman and Bijou Philips and Sela Ward just won't cut it for <strong><em>these</em></strong> men. Sure, the racial slurs are <strong><em>meant </em></strong>to offend, but if anyone out there thinks the violence toward children, women and old people in this movie was also designed to get a reaction, you missed the point. That's just the way we rolled back in 1977. </p>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-60397937376856792872011-03-28T18:06:00.000-07:002011-03-28T23:33:50.775-07:00LOOK (2007)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkv8YXaeRebCvQiumt0wyFXmyKqtyB969ZYJIySEUjQLA2g2zqspP8eSmdADPW4taIb8pm2vRUTHAY0N9xlNHB4_6J4M0SQHMD0o47OyzI7guKkomBRdlNPe6CZRx5LbrvQW0tp140aP2/s1600/heather+hogan.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 294px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589386051692219954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkv8YXaeRebCvQiumt0wyFXmyKqtyB969ZYJIySEUjQLA2g2zqspP8eSmdADPW4taIb8pm2vRUTHAY0N9xlNHB4_6J4M0SQHMD0o47OyzI7guKkomBRdlNPe6CZRx5LbrvQW0tp140aP2/s400/heather+hogan.bmp" /></a> <br /><p align="center"><strong>HEATHER HOGAN ON THE RIGHT. ASHLEY "MACHO MAN" SAVAGE ON THE LEFT. I THINK. </strong><br /><p></p><br /><div>I liked it. A lot of different, seemingly unrelated stories that do eventually tie in together in a Gus Van Sant <strong><em>Elephant</em></strong>-like way. Some stories are played for laughs and don't get much screen time, others are deadly serious (and ultimately devastingly tragic) and make up the bulk of the film. Like real life, there aren't always happy endings to these stories, and the absence of any Hollywood stars makes you believe these characters are real. Well, no stars yet. But let me be the <strong><em>first</em></strong> to start an appreciation society for Heather Hogan, who starts the film off with a bang (no pun intended) and I pray isn't at all related to Brooke and the Hulkster.</div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-49194854719306509822011-03-17T18:58:00.000-07:002011-03-17T19:06:14.173-07:00BABY BLOOD (1990)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRox44TwhipJr01Gh916HOScVwxNrQDXOWBQ87MBFn43l7WVdebquf1P06QVwM9cjyZN-QkPxNIa8KvvJ21nSfqh2c8WGGGJzxnGaCpYTU6hYZrucph0wNLqlvDatGzPjtD4nhHSdOI1Ex/s1600/babyblood1b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585234177449467090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 301px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRox44TwhipJr01Gh916HOScVwxNrQDXOWBQ87MBFn43l7WVdebquf1P06QVwM9cjyZN-QkPxNIa8KvvJ21nSfqh2c8WGGGJzxnGaCpYTU6hYZrucph0wNLqlvDatGzPjtD4nhHSdOI1Ex/s400/babyblood1b.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>AND YOU THOUGHT THAT BIG DUMP YOU TOOK LAST NIGHT WAS ROUGH!</strong> <p><br />BABY BLOOD, quite simply, is so bad, it's good. Woman with David Letterman teeth goes on murderous rampage because her squid-baby needs blood, attacks driver who picked her up hitch-hiking and crashes <em><strong>Benny Hill</strong></em>-style into a wall. Mom follows goopy trail of Baby Calamari into a bus of soccer hooligans, <em><strong>COVERED IN BLOOD AND GRUE FROM THE CRASH</strong></em>. Bus driver doesn't seem to notice and welcomes strange girl onto bus, but warns her not to wake the soccer punks because they tend to get "rowdy" around women. Bus driver never questions <em><strong>why</strong></em> mom's drenched in human carnage. Needless to say, soccer boys wake up, get instantly aroused by the sight of a bloody mama with a dental gap the size of Cleveland, while Octobaby attacks driver in what might be the single most <em><strong>hilarious</strong></em> baby attack since the plastic hand puppet in ITS ALIVE. Really, this movie is <em><strong>so inexplicable </strong></em>that you stop looking for plot holes 30 minutes in and start questioning why you're watching this fucking thing sober. A half dozen Black Russians and I'm sure BABY BLOOD looks like BLADE RUNNER. And it might even start to make sense. <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKR_nGqeo23_4JK25j0QlEv__IdgpCNR-i3x4zc_eJ2XSmYvRC39P7qkeqlb9uORW0W13vA83YCB3A8A8V9r3w1u65wNDtkbsqcmDjCb_ACUoYwuF_lJ8b6Ob4nKufK-2LA-tCFrnCKrdI/s1600/baby_blood1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585235081712549698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKR_nGqeo23_4JK25j0QlEv__IdgpCNR-i3x4zc_eJ2XSmYvRC39P7qkeqlb9uORW0W13vA83YCB3A8A8V9r3w1u65wNDtkbsqcmDjCb_ACUoYwuF_lJ8b6Ob4nKufK-2LA-tCFrnCKrdI/s400/baby_blood1.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>HOW THE HELL DID THEY GET RAE DAWN CHONG IN THIS MOVIE?<br /></strong></p></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-4624952646985313792010-12-10T19:33:00.000-08:002010-12-10T19:42:15.901-08:00IT'S ALIVE! (1974)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg905hj9KrOpLe5SY8PmV7KVrWai0VvZGQsboXK_jHqnK0bo2oRbfSt1lNgMmJrEiZLqoIHaqply_g3JigATHC70Y-kOW736Q7gIX_zySBadhSCOBlo-QBt_hhfXPDyb913fzBZo5O_niSx/s1600/its_alive.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549263943444179346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 262px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg905hj9KrOpLe5SY8PmV7KVrWai0VvZGQsboXK_jHqnK0bo2oRbfSt1lNgMmJrEiZLqoIHaqply_g3JigATHC70Y-kOW736Q7gIX_zySBadhSCOBlo-QBt_hhfXPDyb913fzBZo5O_niSx/s400/its_alive.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>CHANCES ARE IF YOU SPENT GOOD MONEY ON THIS FILM, YOU <em>DID</em> WATCH IT ALONE.</strong> </div><div align="center"> <P></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Elisabeth Hasselback is pregnant again. Now <strong><em>that's</em></strong> a baby that scares me a thousand times more than the sock puppet in ITS ALIVE. Not a good sign when the DVD cover is scarier than the actual movie. Followed quickly by ITS ALIVE 2 - PLACENTA OF DEATH.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTvJ89cnyLM1c3rEmAce7iTYOax7Tja0EYDAY1v4gEaqmgUci-WQtaA-YEX5YYurFwWSQltq51_bb8j7NxFP9fVNI6Z4adKrPTUaYZVI5u4FKLT2_FwqjVyxsSQV_Tlb2Pf5sWXXCBOopR/s1600/its-alive.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549264018516153570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTvJ89cnyLM1c3rEmAce7iTYOax7Tja0EYDAY1v4gEaqmgUci-WQtaA-YEX5YYurFwWSQltq51_bb8j7NxFP9fVNI6Z4adKrPTUaYZVI5u4FKLT2_FwqjVyxsSQV_Tlb2Pf5sWXXCBOopR/s400/its-alive.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><strong>JESUS CHRIST,<em> ANOTHER </em>FUCKING KARDASHIAN?!?</strong></p>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-55130575398949826262010-11-15T18:40:00.001-08:002010-11-15T18:46:39.144-08:00CANNIBAL FEROX (1981)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW4Ikz-RRxpf5saOoFGN97dCcEEuYYS6kTX9RK5foSCq-9iPQrUgTMZ9Jel921VacRSdDe-X0SpyZ4QIPJWmnRrYva3qt5NhE0yX1eLgZ4xzuEJHuAEdiAR9n6ReynJhr8mKfiKEsZ_VuF/s1600/cannibal+ferox+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539972260830873698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW4Ikz-RRxpf5saOoFGN97dCcEEuYYS6kTX9RK5foSCq-9iPQrUgTMZ9Jel921VacRSdDe-X0SpyZ4QIPJWmnRrYva3qt5NhE0yX1eLgZ4xzuEJHuAEdiAR9n6ReynJhr8mKfiKEsZ_VuF/s400/cannibal+ferox+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong>NOT NEARLY AS SEXY AS IT SHOULD BE.</strong> </div><p>Umberto Lenzi must HATE New York. Or New Yorkers, I should say. Here are four and a half of the most reprehensible, self-absorbed and downright STUPID people you've ever seen outside of a Pauly Shore movie, and they're all "New Yorkers" (though they sure don't LOOK like it, with their mullets and bad perms). Needless to say, these Sarah Palin wannabees pretty much have to PROVOKE the cannibals into doing what they do, and it all really makes NO sense at all. They HANG OUT in the cannibal village, forgodsake, and then act SHOCKED when the men return. If you like gore, there's plenty of it here, though most of the violence and dismemberment toward the humans is very fake looking (freeze frame the castration scene - whatever latex was used looks NOTHING like what it's meant to be). But yes, like the other reviewers said, there are several animal deaths, some very cruelly staged and THOSE are hard to watch if you like small woodland creatures. I do, but at the same time, I REALLY hate stupid people, so CANNIBAL FEROX was kind of a toss-up. Animal killings bad, stupid people dismemberments really satisfying. Some decent nudity by the blonde, and thank God the brunette keeps her clothes on. Three stars then, right down the middle. With a MACHETE.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZSVpL-JgRnMcfnZQ0CrmzZjJzj1iZDwVL0E7iWtUKkdAxW1AJlfgQeGHyRuyt7SVISVhEC21oip4XGR1JjuMwvtUq9DstJZkeJFEsz5rrFvJ4FzTZlqfeE36vBWoSvioZ1qPa-ab8L14/s1600/cannibal+ferox.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539972098526490578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZSVpL-JgRnMcfnZQ0CrmzZjJzj1iZDwVL0E7iWtUKkdAxW1AJlfgQeGHyRuyt7SVISVhEC21oip4XGR1JjuMwvtUq9DstJZkeJFEsz5rrFvJ4FzTZlqfeE36vBWoSvioZ1qPa-ab8L14/s400/cannibal+ferox.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>HEY, CAN I GET A HAND HERE? NO, I MEAN <em>LITERALLY</em>.<br /></strong></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-66800209418366936902010-10-14T20:05:00.000-07:002010-10-14T20:15:43.222-07:00ULTRAMAN TIGA (2000)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4C907V7UstcVKQPZSqT53N9MNue2J_LVZ0GebMHdERh3-5RN4aRYc12uYULWvAi9GHCsLhbcCqIVHX9TDKJbEocN4EDhTxC_hIZS7TnVenbodyglqqAGqy5AgVsmmK_XneZ7CmCnJMHMW/s1600/ultraman+tiga.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528105076414009698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4C907V7UstcVKQPZSqT53N9MNue2J_LVZ0GebMHdERh3-5RN4aRYc12uYULWvAi9GHCsLhbcCqIVHX9TDKJbEocN4EDhTxC_hIZS7TnVenbodyglqqAGqy5AgVsmmK_XneZ7CmCnJMHMW/s400/ultraman+tiga.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>ONE STEP CLOSER, ULTRAMAN, AND I <em>WILL</em> SHOP-VAC YOU, I SWEAR!</strong></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">My God, 30 years later you'd-a thunk this "new" Ultraman would've been able to <strong><em>improve</em></strong> on the original 1960's version. You thought men in rubber suits was cheesy? Well fuck, just wait'll you see the <strong><em>awful </em></strong>CGI effects that absolutely <strong><em>ruin </em></strong>Ultraman Tiga! Everything about Ultraman Tiga suggests it was filmed with a budget of $20.87 per show. And that's after taxes. This doesn't compare to the original Ultraman, or Johnny Sokko or Space Giants even. What it <strong><em>does </em></strong>compare to is Power Rangers and Teletubbies. Granted, most of the monsters in Tiga <strong><em>look </em></strong>better than the ones in the original series, but what's so sorely lacking here is creativity. There's no giant oil-sucking starfish bat here, or a mummy-loving winged dragon horse, or even a giant Abominable Snowgirl ghost, so clearly the makers of Ultraman Tiga weren't licking acid tabs as much as the creators of Ultraman 1960s. They were probably mainlining saccharine, from the looks of this.<br /><br /></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-18071389344686260692010-09-15T17:55:00.000-07:002010-09-15T18:09:20.541-07:00THE KILLING OF SATAN (1983)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid1Q6gwamYuY21BC4BXmg8k1uNI1asXw2VARIityYhtpOzSmZ2zD7vOiLv2t_I0lzzOJgbHuJzWKSo0HujvOBqwcx0hdtVrZebShVOjUykag4RbR3tstE6l2YT8KSdRnahAZCJ5jzzClW7/s1600/514XKfOZZ%252BL__SL500_.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517310092171522082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid1Q6gwamYuY21BC4BXmg8k1uNI1asXw2VARIityYhtpOzSmZ2zD7vOiLv2t_I0lzzOJgbHuJzWKSo0HujvOBqwcx0hdtVrZebShVOjUykag4RbR3tstE6l2YT8KSdRnahAZCJ5jzzClW7/s400/514XKfOZZ%252BL__SL500_.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />"Satan, where <strong><em>are</em></strong> you? Come out and fight! You're <strong><em>yellow</em></strong>, Satan!" No wonder the Prince of Darkness takes time off his busy schedule to star in this Filipino schlock film - who could possibly resist a challenge like <strong><em>that</em></strong>? I swear, they spent less money on this movie than Rush Limbaugh spends on diet pills, and yet, even if the special effects are laughably bad and the editor looks like he spliced the film with a lumberjack's axe, <strong><em>still </em></strong>- you gotta <strong><em>love</em></strong> the ambitiousness and inexplicability (if that's a word) of it all. A man runs directly in front of a slow-moving styrofoam boulder and instantly becomes a bloody pancake, and yet his head (which curiously did not get flattened) is <strong><em>still </em></strong>able to warn the hero, "Stop that boulder!" And don't let that Frank Frazetta fanclub cover art fool ya either - the hero of the film looks more like a balding forklift driver, and Satan looks more like a guy who got turned down by the traveling production of Mummenschantz. They don't make 'em like this anymore. Because now they got things like, I don't know, <strong><em>cash</em></strong>. And technique. And plots. Does that <strong><em>really</em></strong> say this was filmed in <strong><em>1983?</em></strong> Sweet Baby Jesus, it looks ten years <strong><em>older </em></strong>even by <strong><em>third world</em></strong> standards! This is freeform Filipino cinema at its finest. Satan, where are you? Come out and <strong><em>FIGHT!!!</em></strong><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05veUeOr5ik0a_9bYygUaz7CPrCN3NlnbDthSIaEUXPuSinHxKHqMHSg2vVvThhhIAn0X7t2BKWosZCvhrPyBr_FmbUngN32Ss5sjxxlyRWO2d4uQJqfHbqX4Hy75AykoTARH05Mo27j9/s1600/killing+of+satan.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517310373605132802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05veUeOr5ik0a_9bYygUaz7CPrCN3NlnbDthSIaEUXPuSinHxKHqMHSg2vVvThhhIAn0X7t2BKWosZCvhrPyBr_FmbUngN32Ss5sjxxlyRWO2d4uQJqfHbqX4Hy75AykoTARH05Mo27j9/s400/killing+of+satan.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>CUT HIMSELF SHAVING. WITH A CIRCULAR SAW. </strong><p><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd89i3sbmOtC227ONe5w0XA4PSyDRe7HPYxss4d2Nr4BoVRRXtPWbIN9VnxZqjyoUbwuePoVWVkliHHN4RJLwo3__hS8QzCWi1_rXQWhfZdKIoShQi3_iFqtXxkPbffM3IIrk6kiTzqqoZ/s1600/killing+of+satan+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517310703308520850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd89i3sbmOtC227ONe5w0XA4PSyDRe7HPYxss4d2Nr4BoVRRXtPWbIN9VnxZqjyoUbwuePoVWVkliHHN4RJLwo3__hS8QzCWi1_rXQWhfZdKIoShQi3_iFqtXxkPbffM3IIrk6kiTzqqoZ/s400/killing+of+satan+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>SATAN'S MINION? OR A RARE EARLY PRESS PHOTO OF GILBERT GOTTFRIED?</strong> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoHv4mgc0u2gBmRaH-49sHrVXD1gdzjYk_YSDz41KpFPPduL_q6Z60x6a8h6ntcsVx0RzKYdhQ2P0vJ81PRUYKGZQN-rQXvjdnz384jRUHGlMNZne1AJESHQ0XR_HRNhY7g5Vmj56IGIf/s1600/killing+of+satan+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517311215682479522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoHv4mgc0u2gBmRaH-49sHrVXD1gdzjYk_YSDz41KpFPPduL_q6Z60x6a8h6ntcsVx0RzKYdhQ2P0vJ81PRUYKGZQN-rQXvjdnz384jRUHGlMNZne1AJESHQ0XR_HRNhY7g5Vmj56IGIf/s400/killing+of+satan+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>NO NO, YOU TWO GO TO LUNCH WITHOUT ME. I'M KINDA WATCHING MY WEIGHT</strong>.<br /><br /><br /></p></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-42170551683919863882010-08-20T19:08:00.000-07:002010-08-20T19:20:04.855-07:00DONKEY PUNCH (2008)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1kd7Ansgh1xz7BJ_pGqxdh6RBsyL2BUMiNF37rXY3CV8XLPp-vG1gwoYw-0cLsLZeZC7iXpxqLuKsmET01BFc2KOd_7jlh1uVm-d7j6dgTIVudjuOCiG9bqlgZ2vb9JaKaENPhfMIsEoj/s1600/donkey_punchTam.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507680616563744530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1kd7Ansgh1xz7BJ_pGqxdh6RBsyL2BUMiNF37rXY3CV8XLPp-vG1gwoYw-0cLsLZeZC7iXpxqLuKsmET01BFc2KOd_7jlh1uVm-d7j6dgTIVudjuOCiG9bqlgZ2vb9JaKaENPhfMIsEoj/s400/donkey_punchTam.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>KIDS TODAY ARE SO DARN <em>SERIOUS!</em></strong> <p><br /></p>Call it <strong><em>The Real World: Death Yacht</em></strong>, I like that. That's about right too - a bunch of semi-hot spoiled British brats go out on a boat and frolic and make out and force you to activate your subtitles option just to make out what they're mumbling. Then something bad happens centered around the titular "donkey punch," a quick shot to the back of the head during anal sex for those of you who don't know (and God bless you), and suddenly the kids <strong><em>turn</em></strong> on each other, because, hey, that's what spoiled kids do. And if you thought Paris and Nicole had a falling out, you ain't seen <strong><em>nothing</em></strong> til you've seen Nigel and Ian and Emma going at it here. Comparisons to KNIFE IN THE WATER, DEAD CALM or, jeesus, any<strong><em> good</em></strong> movie are completely unjustified - this is basically THE RULES OF ATTRACTION crossed with BATTLE ROYALE if MTV filmed it. But hey, the cast is pretty <strong><em>and </em></strong>they get naked, so if you don't expect Sir John Gielgud and Kate Winslet to show up with an axe, you should have a good time for an hour and a half. If only the cast of <strong><em>Jersey Shore</em></strong> would start killing each other off like this... <p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6Pul9q9XbZzP8R5J0A9YBmjZVBWwsweoRxyNFfqmHvvg4rvTtbVqJ0fhvp4-Cbd9Jdckytj1-_VHLyGUbPKC_rqE0ZFtT6W89R8C4VjMPDRGeYvfIb0-0OaSiwy2XmL3wDrHlNCu3hzi/s1600/DONKEY+PUNCH.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507680846623953490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6Pul9q9XbZzP8R5J0A9YBmjZVBWwsweoRxyNFfqmHvvg4rvTtbVqJ0fhvp4-Cbd9Jdckytj1-_VHLyGUbPKC_rqE0ZFtT6W89R8C4VjMPDRGeYvfIb0-0OaSiwy2XmL3wDrHlNCu3hzi/s400/DONKEY+PUNCH.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>SHE'S UP FOR A LITTLE DONKEY PUNCH OR TWO.</strong> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIj_zi4e8r-D4BP1kG6KWGxL-FViJd2sTSmKo6EIfs2NRP340MAIBDiWQQOqkc2wX6c4YQAKwfp1xs8YkPIvkFkSk6YjIFC27EJ-xiLqXl4k0Dioh3MaMCrE5Jj_-vDwZS2r4pdcYo2z1f/s1600/donkey+sun+shines+out+our+ass.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507681681487328610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIj_zi4e8r-D4BP1kG6KWGxL-FViJd2sTSmKo6EIfs2NRP340MAIBDiWQQOqkc2wX6c4YQAKwfp1xs8YkPIvkFkSk6YjIFC27EJ-xiLqXl4k0Dioh3MaMCrE5Jj_-vDwZS2r4pdcYo2z1f/s400/donkey+sun+shines+out+our+ass.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>HAND IN GLOVE, THE SUN SHINES OUT OF OUR BEHINDS...</strong><br /><br /><br /></p></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-3999175950687355302010-08-11T19:04:00.000-07:002010-08-11T19:29:51.257-07:00THE CRAWLERS (1990)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjDlRlkwbigu3exCHwgUhZ2gXOOXmyKgiucjUU7RJX8q6F1_uvuz0HMgIlXGjnBftnzB29u9sUZ0C7s2DGrzggRNMRqOFRwPCt1Txz1wJgd8C6zRAcJdpXs8USXMaBl_O1ojrTFSSl8GU/s1600/CRAWLERS.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504342003334414626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 261px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjDlRlkwbigu3exCHwgUhZ2gXOOXmyKgiucjUU7RJX8q6F1_uvuz0HMgIlXGjnBftnzB29u9sUZ0C7s2DGrzggRNMRqOFRwPCt1Txz1wJgd8C6zRAcJdpXs8USXMaBl_O1ojrTFSSl8GU/s400/CRAWLERS.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>TROLL 2 fans, listen up! THE CRAWLERS was <strong><em>originally</em></strong> known as TROLL 3, and if you thought TROLL 2 had nothing to do with trolls, well, TROLL 3 has even <strong><em>less</em></strong>. At least TROLL 2 had goblins, or shitty goblin-like puppets. TROLL 3’s got <strong><em>roots and trees</em></strong>. Seriously. That’s what we’re up against here. It’s like M. Night Shamalyan’s THE HAPPENING only without Zooey Deschanel. Waitaminnit, that’s an <strong><em>improvement</em></strong>, right?<br /></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6cGqbmVpv5qJRqUQucRMivNGcSFeWtnBmozCoMAYUV0dRZq0btZ59luSS65Q-7dkGSJDpBunpWgV9ndBHsnDpJ-YMeubqhOwmb-wNZUqnmyRPQ4eFvZv64a2Msr6jF-8F0YHCbrZ7QWUp/s1600/CRAWLERS+5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504339565270418898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 297px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6cGqbmVpv5qJRqUQucRMivNGcSFeWtnBmozCoMAYUV0dRZq0btZ59luSS65Q-7dkGSJDpBunpWgV9ndBHsnDpJ-YMeubqhOwmb-wNZUqnmyRPQ4eFvZv64a2Msr6jF-8F0YHCbrZ7QWUp/s400/CRAWLERS+5.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>JUST CALM DOWN THERE, JUNIOR. NOBODY GETS NEKKID IN THE CRAWLERS.<br /></strong><p>Let’s be honest. THE CRAWLERS sucks. <strong><em>Hard</em></strong>. But so did TROLL 2, and that’s got something of a cult following now BECAUSE of its hard suckiness. So <strong><em>where’s</em></strong> the love for THE CRAWLERS? Well I, for one, bet it would get a lot more attention – and a DVD release – if it were actually <strong><em>called</em></strong> TROLL 3 to capitalize on the fans of 1 and 2. Or maybe they could market it as "THE HAPPENING without Zooey Deschanel.” Either way, you just KNOW this movie’s gonna be fun when its default internet synopsis goes like this:<br /><br />“Evil nuclear power plant manager is dumping nuclear waste in a forest. People start getting killed. Drunken PhD in power plant starts tracking radiation in the forest. More people killed. Newspaper reporter and local boy and girl start investigating. Still more people killed. Townspeople try to remove nuclear waste. Yet more people killed. EPA cleans up the mess with bulldozers.”<br /><br />Really? Is it THAT simple? No trolls, no goblins, no Nilbogs, and not even things that fucking <strong><em>crawl?</em></strong> And it’s all cleaned up by the EPA with <strong><em>bulldozers</em></strong>? How can you possibly fill 90 minutes with THAT? Well shit, if Dana Carvey can make a full-length film, then surely these kids can stretch out this air-thin plot for an hour and a half, right? Well now, let’s see how they did it…<br /><br />It helps that the first death in the film doesn’t take place until 17 minutes in. Something slithers and, well, CRAWLS through the grass and somehow manages to knock out a girl by grabbing her ankles. Which, if you think about it, probably explains how Vern Troyer gets laid. Mind you, the movie never tells you <strong><em>how</em></strong> these tiny fuckers KILL, but in the movie all the trees started spinning around a lot, so maybe they make their victims so dizzy they pass out. They certainly don’t HARM their victims much, because after Victim 1 falls, she's seen being dragged away without so much as a scratch on her body. Dude, I got two words that would make this all a LOT easier. Form, and Chloro, and not necessarily in that order.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRfcKmwFpGc17VeNFjujMPfC0WWldlLKQoLhLZoD3_rs3s1G7M3mDSuECcVkBUz24D0pD7vOkX2Z2Wo55-blRec_b5XTGRE5rFZjb7nNvnvdilqEY-buCLUMw5-Tpn3DbfbZq66u8AUyIG/s1600/CRAWLERS+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504340016221320594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 297px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRfcKmwFpGc17VeNFjujMPfC0WWldlLKQoLhLZoD3_rs3s1G7M3mDSuECcVkBUz24D0pD7vOkX2Z2Wo55-blRec_b5XTGRE5rFZjb7nNvnvdilqEY-buCLUMw5-Tpn3DbfbZq66u8AUyIG/s400/CRAWLERS+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>GRANNY JUST <em>HAD</em> TO GO AND FUCK WITH THE FAMILY TREE AGAIN.</strong><br /><p>Okay, so the IMDB spoiler synopsis has already clued you in as to <strong><em>who</em></strong> is behind these killings – tree roots – and <strong><em>why</em></strong> – evil nuclear power plant droppings are changing the trees into bloodthirsty killers craving human flesh. All that’s left for you is to, y'know, actually buy into this bullshit. In the meantime, you can enjoy the crack makeup department’s gore FX, and the kind of epic bad acting that made TROLL 2 such a hoot. There’s a great sheriff in THE CRAWLERS who’s REAL voice musta sucked so bad because EVERY one of his lines is overdubbed. And that includes such gems as “Ahhh, you kids, you get my GOAT!” Then there’s the evil power plant director himself, who seems to spend his entire day on the phone and, for some reason, can’t seem to stop bobbing up and down every time he delivers a line. I mean, this dude is a living, breathing bobblehead doll.<br /><br />Thankfully, even plant roots know a shit actor when they see one, so they eventually go after the sheriff, who starts screaming like a schoolgirl when he’s attacked. And for all we know, they might BE the screams of a schoolgirl overdubbed on the audio track. Then we get a low-budget but still pretty damn effective FX shot of a root pushing THROUGH HIS FACE that’s one for the gore hounds. A grandmother gets killed a few minutes later (her screams are overdubbed too), and finally the forest ranger or somebody comes by in a helicopter. And what has to be one of the most outlandish scenes in the entire TROLL trilogy (and if you’ve seen 1 and 2, you KNOW that’s saying something), the plant roots actually ATTACK the helicopter and BRING THE FUCKING HELICOPTER DOWN! Great. Just what we needed. JAWS for the horticulture set.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuXwoZNyH4_axTT2yKelKDxyKOyr9THHAnFgVlUyJ-FlEijlFaikf7XW7G6eLdJYXFJVX77CtHk3vy37RCA6WoLk90k7TyDI3atpkxOEYbEboOwqslw6APH3B9vDp1d6CA-KEhojVPjGL/s1600/CRAWLERS+4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504340646386820482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 297px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuXwoZNyH4_axTT2yKelKDxyKOyr9THHAnFgVlUyJ-FlEijlFaikf7XW7G6eLdJYXFJVX77CtHk3vy37RCA6WoLk90k7TyDI3atpkxOEYbEboOwqslw6APH3B9vDp1d6CA-KEhojVPjGL/s400/CRAWLERS+4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>THERE'S A FUCKING <em>HALF MAN HALF TREE</em> LYING ON THE LAB TABLE, AND THE DUDE IN THE BACK IS MORE INTERESTED IN FINDING PERCOCET IN THE MEDICINE CABINET!<br /></strong><p>Amazingly enough, the giant radioactive bloodthirsty flesh-craving girl-dragging granny-munching tree roots from Hell are brought to a rather anticlimactic demise when a trio of bulldozers suddenly appears on the scene and simply starts <strong><em>plowing down the forest</em></strong>. So yeah, the threat of complete and total human destruction via plant life is thwarted by a fucking <strong><em>road crew</em></strong>. As to exactly WHY Satan’s root farm is able to drag down a helicopter in flight but turns into Glee Club pansies at the sight of a John Deere remains as much a mystery as why any straight man would ever buy a She and Him CD.<br /><br />Thankful that the roots have finally been vanquished and peace has been restored to the tiny town despite the death of the sheriff who never used his own voice, our heroine grabs a phone and starts making calls to boys she hasn’t been able to hang out with while all this radioactive plant murder stuff’s been going on. But while she’s chatting on the phone, her Christmas tree, on its own, suddenly begins to <strong><em>shake…</em></strong><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_-SYLTC69TT8VibFWDHweclcTFdChhgH4xwsNP_I-mSNwXStRAtuqliZcSUh9aH68w1RgFGwIJpbx7k5V27BBH14kIkzcYpDj5aV7mzKH9_lEnFnszNGAlRoiJ-2cvE_x16zPnQHZAeFM/s1600/CRAWLERS+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504341307128885810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 297px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_-SYLTC69TT8VibFWDHweclcTFdChhgH4xwsNP_I-mSNwXStRAtuqliZcSUh9aH68w1RgFGwIJpbx7k5V27BBH14kIkzcYpDj5aV7mzKH9_lEnFnszNGAlRoiJ-2cvE_x16zPnQHZAeFM/s400/CRAWLERS+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>IS THAT A PLANT ROOT IN YOUR EYE OR ARE YOU JUST GLAD TO SEE ME, HEH HEH? OH, IT <em>IS</em> A PLANT ROOT...<br /></strong><p>Sadly for the world, there wasn’t to be a CRAWLERS 2: AWAY IN A MANGLER or even a TROLL 4 for that matter. But then again, in keeping with the spirit of the series, it wouldn’t HAVE to be about trees. It could be about killer spatulas. Or radioactive adult diapers. Whatever, I’d still rent it because it would be a guaranteed good time. Unless Zooey Deschanel was in it. Thank God they haven’t gone THERE yet.<br /><br />If you’ve seen TROLLS 1 and 2, you owe it to yourself to pick up THE CRAWLERS and fire up that old Hitachi VCR once more. Good crappy B-movie fun with some well-meaning gore, actors deemed too sucky to be in TROLL 2, and a tree taking down a fucking HELICOPTER forgodsake! For that alone, I give it three Kari’s.<br /><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6PMgtMPddMzeDtXTdq-j3dFy3NnKAFGYcKSWTjA85sjyu6TSCXic8j1GdQ9cEl_oOWqMG4U2MU4U0mhctfEui_VMJ2HObxfJ1gLA_TP69gE-xaiBMLVu_hSwUzu1pqN9TYgIm-A3zdhS/s1600/kari+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504341792846845970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 379px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6PMgtMPddMzeDtXTdq-j3dFy3NnKAFGYcKSWTjA85sjyu6TSCXic8j1GdQ9cEl_oOWqMG4U2MU4U0mhctfEui_VMJ2HObxfJ1gLA_TP69gE-xaiBMLVu_hSwUzu1pqN9TYgIm-A3zdhS/s400/kari+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p align="center"><strong>FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS</strong><br /><br /><strong>00:17</strong> – Herve Villechaize’s first kill! Death by ankle grab!<br /><br /><strong>00:30</strong> – What happens when you get killed by radioactive tree roots. You become a radioactive girl with skin like tree bark. In other words, Heidi Fleiss.<br /><br /><strong>00:43</strong> – More death by tree root. Or, in this case, overacting.<br /><br /><strong>1:02</strong> – The gore shot. Or what it would look like if a root tried to PUSH its way THROUGH your head. In other words, like Heidi Fleiss.<br /><br /><strong>1:07</strong> – The radioactive roots kill a helpless old grandmother. “I’ve fallen, and I can’t get out of this movie!”<br /><br /><strong>1:22</strong> – The old trite Hollywood cliché scene where a bunch of giant snakelike radioactive completely mobile tree roots grab hold of a helicopter and bring it crashing down to Earth. Really, how many TIMES do we have to see this?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-47541038404967138762010-08-09T15:23:00.000-07:002010-08-09T15:43:47.300-07:00HOUSE BY THE CEMETERY (1981)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVZwTWyRjqDs4GCHTpeqOu8C9wP_HVQAu9JMktss3nTtSLAO-hHg5yav-ryxYuoh38mrzZDQQ4lI8BqW0kE1AN3P8LadYHYESCe-FoLBarWd0w9n0bUbImHafFjhlnSJjMUCuSoXf7_OV/s1600/house+by+cem+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503542312641253154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 169px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVZwTWyRjqDs4GCHTpeqOu8C9wP_HVQAu9JMktss3nTtSLAO-hHg5yav-ryxYuoh38mrzZDQQ4lI8BqW0kE1AN3P8LadYHYESCe-FoLBarWd0w9n0bUbImHafFjhlnSJjMUCuSoXf7_OV/s400/house+by+cem+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong>LET'S SEE...HOUSE...CHECK. CEMETERY...WELL, NOT SO MUCH.</strong> </div><p>When stupid people do stupid things and wind up dead because of it, I don't consider that <strong><em>horror. </em></strong>Is there a genre called "Satisfying Darwinism?" Because <strong><em>this</em></strong> film qualifies. This family is <strong><em>so </em></strong>dumb, they make the Palin family reunion look a Mensa convention. There's one scene where the dad tells his son to get away from the door so he can chop it down with an axe. He takes three big swings, lifts back the axe and suddenly finds there's blood on the end of it. So what does he do? Starts furiously chopping at the door even <strong><em>more!</em></strong> Gee, thanks, Dad!<br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9GMDiZWUs3yRLhk_fQebZTPMsqfWLEtXiq32w7smporcn726f9Q47Pi7DvcwNqYgPynadc3Rl1GUh4VziaWW9TT21XMsBaw64J7cfoql3Hvn79-uHuQLbMrKXD92bRKf8Yz67A4suqW8/s1600/HOUSE+BY+CEM.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503542793455641058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 166px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9GMDiZWUs3yRLhk_fQebZTPMsqfWLEtXiq32w7smporcn726f9Q47Pi7DvcwNqYgPynadc3Rl1GUh4VziaWW9TT21XMsBaw64J7cfoql3Hvn79-uHuQLbMrKXD92bRKf8Yz67A4suqW8/s400/HOUSE+BY+CEM.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>SHE'S GOT A VERY SHARP SENSE OF HUMOR, THAT ONE.</strong> <p><br />Even by Fulci standards, this blows - nothing really even starts <strong><em>happening</em></strong> until after an hour (and it's 1:27 long so go figure). Even for gorehounds, there's a ton of red syrup but precious little grue. Even the <strong><em>title's</em></strong> wrong. <strong><em>One</em></strong> family tombstone does not a cemetery make. Look, if you want a <strong><em>really</em></strong> scary movie, rent something with Pauly Shore in it. </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0C_oq0ql9s7UiE3NEMeanKFrZ66nWlerInzYdONXquhgAF_fYZJlw7iKJyj9dKOY-X9pkVi2bpWXfJvF_AqGH1dOxLC4AZj_PsaBJrhAGKockb5dsgEbfFapNvoGLV2MO10XoY7iiacNB/s1600/HOUSE+BY+CEME.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503543346200554770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0C_oq0ql9s7UiE3NEMeanKFrZ66nWlerInzYdONXquhgAF_fYZJlw7iKJyj9dKOY-X9pkVi2bpWXfJvF_AqGH1dOxLC4AZj_PsaBJrhAGKockb5dsgEbfFapNvoGLV2MO10XoY7iiacNB/s400/HOUSE+BY+CEME.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>SUCKS WHEN THE MAKEUP DEPARTMENT RUNS OUT OF MONEY MID-FILM.</strong> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWSh4pgEXBfQdNHOnLuuMYcl0pcwCpO8hKVnH4Yl2Ff_undL5Ov1PkhBsYTwnNMOpb7YkuLZDxAc2-q8W8n7mDhEyf-LxBZdb3yEAUVY5SgfYS2dDaToTh-QhijLbZxu_KSs8kSBgp7Tnc/s1600/house+by+cemetery.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503543944450149794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 169px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWSh4pgEXBfQdNHOnLuuMYcl0pcwCpO8hKVnH4Yl2Ff_undL5Ov1PkhBsYTwnNMOpb7YkuLZDxAc2-q8W8n7mDhEyf-LxBZdb3yEAUVY5SgfYS2dDaToTh-QhijLbZxu_KSs8kSBgp7Tnc/s400/house+by+cemetery.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><em>WAY</em> SCARIER THAN ANY ZOMBIE. </strong><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwA9sXMghJwlRSvHNPAzP3JCimmnHuwJDPu6xQ4KpxLGjlpFGu7LVFmnehrVqAWvAUTEfqgonULfvP0TBoZlCeEUT3gIXG8ywU1pAjc2GBjLlJLmE9mt79C4okU3Cd3uIKR_E0pFIJkHIN/s1600/HOUSE+BY+CEMETERY.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503544097097045922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 386px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwA9sXMghJwlRSvHNPAzP3JCimmnHuwJDPu6xQ4KpxLGjlpFGu7LVFmnehrVqAWvAUTEfqgonULfvP0TBoZlCeEUT3gIXG8ywU1pAjc2GBjLlJLmE9mt79C4okU3Cd3uIKR_E0pFIJkHIN/s400/HOUSE+BY+CEMETERY.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>GOT THERE <em>LONG</em> BEFORE <em>TRUE BLOOD</em>, THANK YOU.</strong><br /><br /></p></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-52389742806122960012010-08-02T19:31:00.000-07:002010-08-02T19:50:51.906-07:00CLASS REUNION MASSACRE (1978)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTPhm1Xk34DWsoh0hKohivbP0dsj3vhxqhWJgfH9Ca-HmTbBsAndWuP5JEHtsfNXkboF-TG2FJBuOO97-4TMoSzbTGkV3RGAOVJXLWBCJWvUSX17DQhRZccGNVIyvL45k6hpP6Os0BHxrO/s1600/CLASS+REUNION+BOX.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501006961092166770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 312px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTPhm1Xk34DWsoh0hKohivbP0dsj3vhxqhWJgfH9Ca-HmTbBsAndWuP5JEHtsfNXkboF-TG2FJBuOO97-4TMoSzbTGkV3RGAOVJXLWBCJWvUSX17DQhRZccGNVIyvL45k6hpP6Os0BHxrO/s400/CLASS+REUNION+BOX.bmp" border="0" /></a><strong>THE BOX MAKES IT LOOK BLOODY. AND SCARY. AND GORY. </strong></div><div align="center"><strong>ART DEPARTMENT - 1, VIEWERS - 0.</strong> <p><br />I never attended any of my own high school reunions. Partially because I moved out of the area as soon as they handed me that diploma, and partially because I had no friends. It’s a good thing I didn’t, too, because shit like this happens more often than you know. You go because you’re curious to find out if the head cheerleader turned out to be a corporate lawyer, a stripper or a mother of three (it was always the latter), but you end up being murdered by a puppet in the gymnasium. Don’t believe me? Watch Class Reunion Massacre.<br /><br />Go on, just try to. I dare you. It’s a work of cinematic genius, I tell you. Remember how all those obnoxious film students in college couldn’t stop talking shit about that long continuous opening tracking shot in Touch of Evil? Well fuck them, because Class Reunion Massacre has an opening shot just as long. Okay, technically it doesn’t really “track” per se, it just kinda hangs. On a fucking river. Yeah, that’s right, it’s three fucking minutes of footage of a river. Good thing Mr. Welles didn’t live long enough to see it. “This is a lot of shit, you know that,” he’d say, wiping the dribble off his four chins with a Brillo pad. “It’s very unrewarding.”<br /><br />Finally, after three minutes of Rio Dullo, we get a quote superimposed on the screen. “From out of the darkness, the hand of the redeemer shall appear to punish those who have lived in sin…” and yes, it ends with the ellipsis, as if they couldn’t afford the typesetting needed to finish it. Meanwhile, Keith Emerson’s retarded little brother diddles around on a synthesizer. Suddenly some Butch Patrick wannabe starts walking OUT of the river, and for the first time in five minutes we’ve got ACTION baby. Not much action, mind you, but at this point, we’ll take what we can get. Shit, this movie’s already less interesting than a REAL high school reunion, and that’s saying something.<br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2u_KjrgP49wBI7tkG-ESOrnXjP3Dz-pN5cjpUoyXY_BwONxIwCakIyXfeXJxT7lx88v5LltMYlmON1yt55Mh9Mpo-ZLa2LDycpdbL39ZQkgIi2xam6IreJUaKEckNsAvlHaTBItdU17b/s1600/CLASS+REUNION+4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501007701823635442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2u_KjrgP49wBI7tkG-ESOrnXjP3Dz-pN5cjpUoyXY_BwONxIwCakIyXfeXJxT7lx88v5LltMYlmON1yt55Mh9Mpo-ZLa2LDycpdbL39ZQkgIi2xam6IreJUaKEckNsAvlHaTBItdU17b/s400/CLASS+REUNION+4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>TWO ELLIPSES BACK TO BACK! <em>FUCK!</em> ART DEPARTMENT - 1. PROOFREADING DEPARTMENT - MINUS 3. </strong><p><br /><br />Butchie walks out of the river, gets on a bus, and goes to some religious school where he’s a choir boy or something. As he changes into his choir boy uniform in the boys locker room – relax, girls, this ain’t Porky’s – his classmates start telling a joke about a sailor and a whore but we never get to hear the punch line because somewhere else someone’s just shot the pool boy. Are you following all this? Is it gonna be on the test?<br /><br />Okay, good, now put all that in the back of your mind, because you’ll never need it again. Seriously. For the next 30 minutes, we follow a small group of alumni preparing for their reunion. Hence the title of the movie, finally. There’s the spoiled thespian, the serious scholar, there’s even a lesbian. Meanwhile, some unknown killer type is cutting all their photos from a yearbook and making clay masks of their faces. Hey, is this gonna be like that old Twilight Zone episode? Finally, the alums show up at the old school itself, and the strange janitor who answers the doors doesn’t seem to know there’s gonna be a reunion at all. Despite the MASSIVE FUCKING BANNER that says “Welcome Class of 1967” hanging over the entryway. And the HUGE FUCKING PARTY TABLE decked out in orange and red ribbons. Nope, sorry, didn’t get the email. Or however they communicated back then. Still, there are only six alums who show up for this reunion, and they have no idea who invited them. But that doesn’t seem to bother ‘em much, so they do what classmates who haven’t seen each other in 20 years should do. They start fucking. “Nothing changes,” one suave dude says and plants a wet one on some dumb blonde who was in his science class once. You think we were horny back then? Just wait’ll you see what 20 years and a life of staring at a river will do to a man.<br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI9XE-CqrZGMlD6Z8DuYKHiVCSZwlwClzG9PC0_pTnWz-cl5xHJyyE9zZKpdu7Snt6-6n5xv4iwIP5SxlAj7rtpZxiBuXpeCqhyphenhyphentSTJMmRRKr4XHUrYbzC-F0tWlUaIGn_PPI0nhpNPxoz/s1600/CLASS+REUNION+MASS+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501008205318703682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI9XE-CqrZGMlD6Z8DuYKHiVCSZwlwClzG9PC0_pTnWz-cl5xHJyyE9zZKpdu7Snt6-6n5xv4iwIP5SxlAj7rtpZxiBuXpeCqhyphenhyphentSTJMmRRKr4XHUrYbzC-F0tWlUaIGn_PPI0nhpNPxoz/s400/CLASS+REUNION+MASS+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>AWW HELL YA, BABY! YA'LL KNOW WHAT'S ABOUT TO GO DOWN <em>HERE</em>, YO! </strong><p><br /><br />It ain’t long before things start getting all wonky, and I don’t mean sexual. The dumb blonde finds the first victim, a former janitor who’s been dead so long a family of maggots is making a new home in his neck. In a rare moment of horror film lucidity, they actually DO try to immediately leave, but in a not-so-rare moment of horror film cliché, all the windows and doors are suddenly barred shut and locked, obviously by someone who managed to do all that construction and welding work in a few short minutes without so much as a sound. Oh yeah, and now there’s some creepy guy outside dressed like the K-Mart Halloween Department version of Death harassing them through the fence with a big plastic sickle. Oh, the horror! Still, I’d take this over more footage of that fucking river.<br /><br />Well, I think you can guess how the rest of this movie goes. Like Ten Little Indians only four short, each of our alums gets picked off one by one in clever ways. One girl gets killed in super slo-mo by a crazed hunter who looks like the bastard son of Brad Dourif and the bassist from Black Oak Arkansas. The former high school quarterback gets offed by a Bunsen burner and a remote controlled Howdy Doody puppet. And then there’s the killer himself, obviously a failed drama student whose put on a few pounds in those unkind post-graduation twenty years, who dresses like Bozo the Clown and acts like Nicolas Cage on a heroin binge. “The time has come to serve yourself!” he emotes while disposing of the class bimbo by drowning her in a sink, but not before giving us some completely unnecessary (but always welcome) wet T-shirt action. Seriously, though, this chick has GOT to be the single weakest girl ever killed in a horror film. Not only did she get killed by a clown, she got killed in a fucking SINK by an overweight, effeminate, OVERACTING clown. That’s just embarrassing.<br /><br />Y’know, now that I think about it, if I ever start a rock band, I think I’m going to call it Death By Clown. It’s got a nice ring to it.<br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnXVcToFzDnb29NRxZEUL1CBceNRJApg5fye3t8U1PAtmi8jKVJTaN034lN1KyCJgQ_5fHqHhbByCFyW0fZ_DpFiYAQHcIBDERDTkEOVtkkZFF9OjL7E8a__-tw-H6S0l1wyNkevgElLP/s1600/CLASS+REUNION+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501008870844790386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnXVcToFzDnb29NRxZEUL1CBceNRJApg5fye3t8U1PAtmi8jKVJTaN034lN1KyCJgQ_5fHqHhbByCFyW0fZ_DpFiYAQHcIBDERDTkEOVtkkZFF9OjL7E8a__-tw-H6S0l1wyNkevgElLP/s400/CLASS+REUNION+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>IT'S NOT THE CLOWN MAKEUP THAT'S SCARY. IT'S THAT MYSTERIOUS BLUE SPOT ON HIS CHIN. WHAT THE FUCK <em>IS</em> THAT? </strong><p><br /><br />More death ensue, some by remote-controlled puppets, and every time someone gets killed, Keith Emerson has an epileptic fit on the soundtrack. By the time this film ends, the opening quote is finished, and we finally understand why the kid came out of the river thanks to a strange, spiritual conclusion which tries hard to turn this brave little slasher into something far, far more meaningful. Does it succeed? Depends on what you’re looking for. There’s very little blood in Class Reunion Massacre, and not one tit despite two semi-hot and very ditzy blondes that should’ve given up the goods like immediately. The death traps themselves are pretty ingenious, though, in a bloodless Saw kinda way, and some are so ridiculous you swear the filmmakers were so hopped up on Night Train, they make Orson Welles look like a fucking teetotaler on the set of his frozen food commercials. “What is it you want, in the depths of your ignorance?” he’d shout to the overweight, overacting killer clown, before hissing in anger “You are such PESTS!” And any film that can piss off Citizen Kane is okay in my book. Two and a half Kari Wuhrers. </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhaWHr4IVNG4266Pp-2H2pZM1YDDEipyGTveNwMXgKorM9WHYu4HPOWPnFLSfPfeaX64eHIUKUy4rHE00TuaaN02pr1VpgDYV98LCiSLeY29J23ykY47bK_TfBsXtCdDe3igZeE-8jeRMA/s1600/kari+2+and+a+half.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501009240934287986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 361px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhaWHr4IVNG4266Pp-2H2pZM1YDDEipyGTveNwMXgKorM9WHYu4HPOWPnFLSfPfeaX64eHIUKUy4rHE00TuaaN02pr1VpgDYV98LCiSLeY29J23ykY47bK_TfBsXtCdDe3igZeE-8jeRMA/s400/kari+2+and+a+half.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p><strong>FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS –<br /></strong><br /><strong>00:38</strong> – Ditzy blonde finds dead janitor whose neck is a housing project for maggots. Which means the killer struck last around, oh say, 1973?<br /><br /><strong>00:42</strong> – Death by radio-controlled Howdy Doody puppet with built in Bunsen burner! Memo to Jigsaw and your fancy schmancy Saw death contraptions: Let me know when you wanna play with the big boys.<br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNTHNmYNxd7LKv6XeXXM41EnzMXCfcJejlwhEdL5Mzx0JiM67hPlJYOmklHkNyx2GK7-sVO3quG0GVL0f54ep8My6wzGlKDKQJmjLBhE0YMfPYk0SVwcLMhTy_X9oBDS23xdUNQYAcZPbU/s1600/CLASS+REUNION+MASS.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501009677585122770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNTHNmYNxd7LKv6XeXXM41EnzMXCfcJejlwhEdL5Mzx0JiM67hPlJYOmklHkNyx2GK7-sVO3quG0GVL0f54ep8My6wzGlKDKQJmjLBhE0YMfPYk0SVwcLMhTy_X9oBDS23xdUNQYAcZPbU/s400/CLASS+REUNION+MASS.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>WHEN <em>THIS</em> KILLS YOU, YOU TRULY SUCK. </strong><p><br /><br /><br /><strong>00:51</strong> – Why they tell high school quarterbacks to pay attention in science class. And why they tell film score composers not to listen to Emerson Lake and Palmer.<br /><br /><strong>00:54</strong> – Great, the killer in this film is Truman fucking Capote!<br /><br /><strong>1:01</strong> – Death by Clown.<br /><br /><strong>1:12</strong> – Death by Puppet.<br /><br /><strong>1:18</strong> - Death by Llama. Just kidding. Woulda been cool though.<br /><br /><br /><br /></p></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-20587689198206774832010-07-26T19:34:00.000-07:002010-07-26T20:20:13.771-07:00POSSESSION: UNTIL DEATH DO YOU PART (1987)“The sensuality of BODY HEAT and JAGGED EDGE…the psychological terror of PSYCHO!” So claims the videotape box of 1987’s POSSESSION: UNTIL DEATH DO YOU PART (yeah, it ain’t on DVD yet, so climb up in the attic and borrow Mom’s VHS player). Well, not quite. Would you believe “The sensuality of SCREWBALLS and the psychological terror of PUPPET MASTER II?” I didn’t think so. Just being honest here.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UpMefLjOseua4CtD7U-BgCm4A6kkeIchKSSAeIOqvGsGOCaCPsEamEQKIfcF-h8azgtrtGRBuNT9WTAIhuiT4mBiDIMEnrVaZAtTZNCeQ_HPg7rz9pRewpsgKf8J8LklQCh8POQmDxj-/s1600/possession+nip.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498409484894507154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 171px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UpMefLjOseua4CtD7U-BgCm4A6kkeIchKSSAeIOqvGsGOCaCPsEamEQKIfcF-h8azgtrtGRBuNT9WTAIhuiT4mBiDIMEnrVaZAtTZNCeQ_HPg7rz9pRewpsgKf8J8LklQCh8POQmDxj-/s400/possession+nip.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>FILMS LIKE THIS EITHER HAVE GREAT SPECIAL EFFECTS OR LOTS OF TITTIES. GUESS WHICH <em>THIS</em> ONE HAS?</strong> <p><br />Remember that psycho killer in Lucio Fulci’s way-past-his-prime gorefest NEW YORK RIPPER who actually quacked like a fucking <em><strong>duck</strong></em> when making a kill? Well, here in POSSESSION, we got a guy who likes to cackle like Crispin Glover on helium and make Marty Feldman faces. <strong>Lots</strong> of ‘em. In fact, that’s all this guy really <em><strong>does </strong></em>– dresses in camouflage, cackles like Robin Quivers on crack, and worships at the altar of Marty Feldman. Oh yeah, and there’s <em><strong>lots</strong></em> of nudity in this one, male <em><strong>and</strong></em> female, so you can kinda consider it SEX WITH A SMILE crossed with I DISMEMBER MAMA. BODY HEAT never came to mind. </p><p><br /> </p><em></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLsbCjrorR4UJr8Uv9crWPN7QX5Aak_pUm4tKeXHtgekK3naXnlYwEwdQjz76GlmpG3NEV5Tu6RTW5YEqvA5qrTMj4QCZ0rzt_90dfyHQyw9g4TP7CyUhYV_TkWZE6XeLesv4aZbCtbcHp/s1600/possession+villain.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498410370267825170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 187px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLsbCjrorR4UJr8Uv9crWPN7QX5Aak_pUm4tKeXHtgekK3naXnlYwEwdQjz76GlmpG3NEV5Tu6RTW5YEqvA5qrTMj4QCZ0rzt_90dfyHQyw9g4TP7CyUhYV_TkWZE6XeLesv4aZbCtbcHp/s400/possession+villain.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>THE KILLER. ONLY <em>SLIGHTLY</em> SCARIER THAN COREY FELDMAN.</strong> <p><br />Things <em><strong>immediately</strong></em> start off on the right foot – we’re not one full minute into the film when we see an unconscious girl being dragged across the lawn wearing only a skimpy nightgown, which doesn’t exactly cover her up if’n ya know what I mean (and I know you do). 9 minutes later, our killer's forcing a hot blonde to strip and wear his mother’s red dress, and the poor actress obliges. Yeah, he refers to his Mom <em><strong>a lot </strong></em>in this movie, so that might be where casual viewers and Leonard Maltin get their PSYCHO comparisons from. It doesn’t help that our killer sounds like a young Fred Schneider from the B-52s and looks like the bastard son of John Turturro and Joacquin Phoenix. It’s enough to make any young boy turn into a murderous, bloodthirsty cackling camouflaged Marty Feldman-loving psychopath. Or worse yet, John Malkovich. </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdjUO-PqI7d-5rZWdC6_sOx0BTHYa8azZItOq6lf2UlMekgXzbIV00ZC6_vmH-q6PO50SN9dLMCcE8SzywNWqLBmRzWBQiUCk-gIMZKpEHRzb40q-Kn5ERkWuwYCQ9CVYlRvtt9avLFs8-/s1600/possession+dress.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498411419202630114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 183px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdjUO-PqI7d-5rZWdC6_sOx0BTHYa8azZItOq6lf2UlMekgXzbIV00ZC6_vmH-q6PO50SN9dLMCcE8SzywNWqLBmRzWBQiUCk-gIMZKpEHRzb40q-Kn5ERkWuwYCQ9CVYlRvtt9avLFs8-/s400/possession+dress.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>DOES THIS DRESS MAKE ME LOOK FAT?</strong> <p>Turns out our killer’s just looking for a girlfriend, and none of the girls are living up to Mother’s standards. So he kills ‘em. If that were <em><strong>me</strong></em>, I’d have to dispatch every girl in the tri-state area who wasn’t Cindy Crawford or Lisa Robertson from QVC. Because those are <em><strong>my</strong></em> mom’s standards. So I can kinda, you know, relate to this guy. I’m not saying I would go around smearing camouflage on my face and doing facial expressions from YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN, but you get the idea. Anyway, he chases a few girls back to their Jeep Cherokee early on, and even though it’s wintertime, they conveniently keep their windows down so he can grab them as they try to pull away. When a cop just happens to be walking by (apparently they still ‘walked the beat’ back in 1987), the killer stabs him viciously, while his partner shoots four times blindly down the street. So much for public safety, huh? </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAlYgSZpyhbb-4kby9-OOSSiy2ONVNsP2f4NQnzreKtT0NsWwbs7ZvbGcrvOrGjkwzcXoXl1GGBRR1O9IPG3weY6QLUB8VoC29eCNPZLK0d1m_MuHMo9yvhvnqjRZU8GdCkNTdhYTAldsp/s1600/possession+panties.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498412133298224194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 173px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAlYgSZpyhbb-4kby9-OOSSiy2ONVNsP2f4NQnzreKtT0NsWwbs7ZvbGcrvOrGjkwzcXoXl1GGBRR1O9IPG3weY6QLUB8VoC29eCNPZLK0d1m_MuHMo9yvhvnqjRZU8GdCkNTdhYTAldsp/s400/possession+panties.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>THAT'S A NICE VIEW. ER, OUTSIDE THE WINDOW I MEAN.</strong> <p>Meanwhile, some Charlie Spradling wannabee is lying face down on the bed in a skimpy white teddy, just waiting for her boyfriend to arrive. When our killer walks in instead (don’t ask how, just accept) and starts rubbing her leg, she moans in ecstasy. Little does <em><strong>she</strong></em> know, it’s Marty Feldman as Norman Bates giving her the rubdown. But instead of, y’know, <em><strong>fucking</strong></em> her or something, he quickly stabs her in the back, then spears her pansy-ass boyfriend when he shows up 30 seconds later, finishing him off with the Freddy Kreuger-like punchline of “You’re <em><strong>late</strong></em>!” Yeah, but you’re <em><strong>gay,</strong></em> dude, for <em><strong>not</strong></em> banging that piece of ass on the bed. Even Marty Feldman would've helped himself to some of <em><strong>that</strong></em>. <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBpokJLBNlOrKreg6W2Bsp0xpGbkOZ9zAd-79ofV3g0Pi-oQ3F3jbQwlpfE0UMp5QUu8Lh1IwandZuYQgZoO__1oY2t-xCNa_oIJtQ4G1zPVCErzqqhuR2TicEZ5TMpociiVhfslhyphenhyphenN0Ja/s1600/possession+muff.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498413170626545026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBpokJLBNlOrKreg6W2Bsp0xpGbkOZ9zAd-79ofV3g0Pi-oQ3F3jbQwlpfE0UMp5QUu8Lh1IwandZuYQgZoO__1oY2t-xCNa_oIJtQ4G1zPVCErzqqhuR2TicEZ5TMpociiVhfslhyphenhyphenN0Ja/s400/possession+muff.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>TURNS OUT THE CARPET MATCHES THE MUTTONCHOPS.</strong> <p>Meanwhile, <em><strong>another </strong></em>group of liquored-up young things are partying down with some Chippendale dancers (yes, folks, the skin in POSSESSION isn’t solely for the guys). There’s also a really <em><strong>really</strong></em> shitty country song playing, with a chorus of “doing it right on the wrong side of town,” which somehow manages to make Rascal Flatts sound like literary scholars. The killer, meanwhile, is smart enough to stay away from Chippendale parties <em><strong>and </strong></em>country music, and continues to drown hot girls without fucking them and, in one particularly gruesome scene, pushes a guy’s face down into a spinning fan belt while he’s checking his car engine. Then he takes a baseball bat to his friend, all the while remembering to make a different Marty Feldman face in between each swing of the bat! </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73-qlIOAPSzeNZd30RQJBywEGubiQnZqpKIp6g_yQuq_cYfASfVjC1X2bjC-mHvbDO3NYKS3oG-i0WSWnw_B9W_qIc5m81UZTqCdzCePHTVeCPRUrl5TMZgFpF7PDvT-FBU06r2oi87-E/s1600/possession+chippendales.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498414062100338130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 185px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73-qlIOAPSzeNZd30RQJBywEGubiQnZqpKIp6g_yQuq_cYfASfVjC1X2bjC-mHvbDO3NYKS3oG-i0WSWnw_B9W_qIc5m81UZTqCdzCePHTVeCPRUrl5TMZgFpF7PDvT-FBU06r2oi87-E/s400/possession+chippendales.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>ONE FOR THE LADIES.</strong> <p>He chases another girl into the woods, where he suddenly stops in front of a tree, cackles for a few seconds and then starts licking his knife. Two minutes later he inexplicably jumps froggie-style into a girls’ shower and does something to a nude Jamie Lee Curtis lookalike that causes red paint to splash up on the shower wall and run slowly down the drain. After another soliluquoy to Mom and more priceless Marty Feldman faces, he steps over the hot, wet, completely nude co-ed on the shower floor and never even <em><strong>touches</strong></em> her. Now I don’t consider myself a freak by any stretch of the imagination, but if I ever found myself in a shower stall with a nude and unconscious Jamie Lee Curtis stunt double, you’d <em><strong>seriously</strong></em> have to turn off the cameras for an hour or two. Seriously. Nobody films that shit. <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFor5pg1fzrsYSryzuhQaLxw8jmn2tBdyVa9xevZ4sVCgNK4o9W0INKmW2OeR16fLZ_bGL2bNLpoKypx8U8ipS2cBw2mJtXHfHcP1cSUY0tQGOKgyv9SDPpeJoY7Acsg6qq6bHrb_dY2N/s1600/possession+shower+ass.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498414606585972370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 187px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFor5pg1fzrsYSryzuhQaLxw8jmn2tBdyVa9xevZ4sVCgNK4o9W0INKmW2OeR16fLZ_bGL2bNLpoKypx8U8ipS2cBw2mJtXHfHcP1cSUY0tQGOKgyv9SDPpeJoY7Acsg6qq6bHrb_dY2N/s400/possession+shower+ass.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>NICE, EVEN WITH THE BAD EIGHTIES HAIR. </strong><p>And, by the way, what <em><strong>message </strong></em>does all of this send to us? I mean, isn’t it a slasher film rule that only the girls who <em><strong>fuck</strong></em> get killed? All this one did was sleep late and take a nice long shower. Is that reason enough to slash her throat? Oh right. I’m looking for sense in a film with a camouflaged cackling knife-licking Fred Schneider doppelganger with a Jones for THE LAST REMAKE OF BEAU GESTE. Fuck me already. <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSD7CsEh4faweSaB6jF1Juyp2l0HzaKSYlaY-NkhnrJqoMfXehWdn0-WZTazjdDf1sl624L2lX6kv4hu8kcjgtF-sHZkooSAA6dFGqhggV3NxAoBd6kBpWYEHXnZaAbMrJZeAlsqVopb2Y/s1600/possession+dog.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498415129195030690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 186px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSD7CsEh4faweSaB6jF1Juyp2l0HzaKSYlaY-NkhnrJqoMfXehWdn0-WZTazjdDf1sl624L2lX6kv4hu8kcjgtF-sHZkooSAA6dFGqhggV3NxAoBd6kBpWYEHXnZaAbMrJZeAlsqVopb2Y/s400/possession+dog.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>ONE FOR THE DOGGIES. WHAT? </strong><p>So what we gots here is a lot of babes getting all <em><strong>nekkid</strong></em> but nobody to take <em><strong>advantage</strong></em> of ‘em, plot holes big enough to drive Hummers through, some inventive kills but no real gore to speak of (and almost all the killings take place offscreen due to budgetary concerns), and one <em><strong>seriously</strong></em> fucked up momma’s boy doing the killing. I say buy it and have fun with it, but not while sober, and rewatch it for the babes. And if you’re a Marty Feldman fan, this is a whole hell of a lot better than YELLOWBEARD.<br /><br /><strong>I GIVE IT TWO OUT OF FOUR KARI WUHRERS.</strong></p><p><strong></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDs3jiaCJ-5wCiUtR9jiwCNd2c2mI2w4S12nzpxP3zZ6gls8gTzC8pZKTag7OV8ernxpMT5FPIM0cnda598rVofg64gmAFAgkb3G2Lr2_zyTVHzCpRqPLGGJjThBLk8218uDjX7XMarabo/s1600/kari+2.jpg"> </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498416272819166674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 276px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDs3jiaCJ-5wCiUtR9jiwCNd2c2mI2w4S12nzpxP3zZ6gls8gTzC8pZKTag7OV8ernxpMT5FPIM0cnda598rVofg64gmAFAgkb3G2Lr2_zyTVHzCpRqPLGGJjThBLk8218uDjX7XMarabo/s400/kari+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p><strong>FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS –<br /></strong><br /><strong>00 MINUTES</strong> – Right off the bat, we get a nip slip while dragging a dead girl across the lawn. Hotcha!<br /><br /><strong>9 MINUTES</strong> – Forces a blonde to put on his mom’s red dress. Issues, man, issues. </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6BdP7XmzuWHhyphenhyphenb6E_86-PJ6fqX0SsFyr74CCFZKhDu-vnUW6rgLGYTM5eRMNTwURedYGftoE925Z9hb3m5MlOhbsPMnXCl_kU_TEf535uZFTiUvO8U-Uq-l9IGZkoQRaK0wjFvlunsla/s1600/possession+lipstick.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498416673861997250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6BdP7XmzuWHhyphenhyphenb6E_86-PJ6fqX0SsFyr74CCFZKhDu-vnUW6rgLGYTM5eRMNTwURedYGftoE925Z9hb3m5MlOhbsPMnXCl_kU_TEf535uZFTiUvO8U-Uq-l9IGZkoQRaK0wjFvlunsla/s400/possession+lipstick.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>OH TO BE REINCARNATED AS LIPSTICK...</strong> <p><br /><strong>28 MINUTES</strong> – Teen sex interrupted by what has to be the single WORST impression of a little teenage sister ever committed to film.<br /><br /><strong>30 MINUTES</strong> – A Chippendale dancer in a skimpy thong gyrates for the ladies out there. Bummer for me. </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpjdMHrP2ta58BKyoor3819wmPHu0fHI8zETtOUCnf0jDa986KVmphies4hbyhcJ26-ySwfIF8nTLk9mMzK1NKJDrmNuBpYQTEJzXXHux5cb8BxWVSYCwgVCYM8d1urNPfcsMqP96hHHd/s1600/possession+shower+cut.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498418127999937714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 181px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpjdMHrP2ta58BKyoor3819wmPHu0fHI8zETtOUCnf0jDa986KVmphies4hbyhcJ26-ySwfIF8nTLk9mMzK1NKJDrmNuBpYQTEJzXXHux5cb8BxWVSYCwgVCYM8d1urNPfcsMqP96hHHd/s400/possession+shower+cut.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>I CUT YOU WITH MY KNIFE OF IMPOTENCY!</strong> <p><br /><br /><strong>36 MINUTES</strong> – Fully nude shower scene from a smoking hot babe who’s got a body that’s almost as good as Charlie Spradling’s! And you don’t have to sit through PUPPET MASTER II just to see it!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRV0BXAuLoNuPykyGZgwOzH4fJ8ztt5xe-BpIiCXh8hmoWVFq-5iU1TPk8bu0rthusTkcTrrXuSAcjiPvrlwjEoLchYTHl9_1w-uQDOQsvCdcwaxieEhQBMWzF1Kc8YDUTGmJMCezeoAwX/s1600/possession+shower+butt.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498417697375602738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 181px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRV0BXAuLoNuPykyGZgwOzH4fJ8ztt5xe-BpIiCXh8hmoWVFq-5iU1TPk8bu0rthusTkcTrrXuSAcjiPvrlwjEoLchYTHl9_1w-uQDOQsvCdcwaxieEhQBMWzF1Kc8YDUTGmJMCezeoAwX/s400/possession+shower+butt.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>A TWO STRIPE ASS IF THERE EVER WAS ONE.</strong> <p><br /><strong>44 MINUTES</strong> – Another hottie in the bathtub this time. But what’s with the CARE BEARS bubble bath? No, seriously. What’s WITH that? </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3SRMuRN__kXeq7n_GdQhM8M9M9T50_F6F8LsUCm5YDF26FjGCYBBZQAHECdRiXTZV5zWE0ibRwxUGAwSroRrVS-TynBOFNJJD_ZFmeDiBC7B_ssQFPIxYeNxL0G5_hKQ2O2RR0maimyH4/s1600/possession+tub.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498416973186417810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 190px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3SRMuRN__kXeq7n_GdQhM8M9M9T50_F6F8LsUCm5YDF26FjGCYBBZQAHECdRiXTZV5zWE0ibRwxUGAwSroRrVS-TynBOFNJJD_ZFmeDiBC7B_ssQFPIxYeNxL0G5_hKQ2O2RR0maimyH4/s400/possession+tub.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>NOPE, NO FREDDIE KRUEGER HAND HERE.</strong> <p><br /><strong>1:06</strong> – Jamie Lee Curtis stand-in shows the whole goods in the shower, including a rather nice breast mole, but something tells me she ain’t gonna last long. Hey, I was right!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4GDdepHZc40VN3KzIfHuvtPEJYykxGzrUZVxiHgVZCYDuyY5A9krh7pDc21FD6NYpIgVU3MRSN7SJ2OO6Vt3LVsUEiWJjbLK0aI6VrnIfRRtb4Sp53TMifB-5NG15KeFHjSLieGqN1Wg/s1600/possession+shower.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498418949919536258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 187px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4GDdepHZc40VN3KzIfHuvtPEJYykxGzrUZVxiHgVZCYDuyY5A9krh7pDc21FD6NYpIgVU3MRSN7SJ2OO6Vt3LVsUEiWJjbLK0aI6VrnIfRRtb4Sp53TMifB-5NG15KeFHjSLieGqN1Wg/s400/possession+shower.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>MUST BE THIS TALL TO GET KNIVED IN THE SHOWER.<br /></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-11281154648566741412010-07-17T19:58:00.000-07:002010-07-17T20:08:37.686-07:00LOOKS LIKE ANOTHER BROWN TROUSER JOB (1988)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyeg7YKPrvpCIias4OUzdUaHbnAVYZAuYiTApk_xOwtrgFdjBXdOQv0XQp1_MSgdw8q8VPJpeBM0F2uReYiJ83LoQvQOdAiOiVQS9AM4Q3a5Hlil5MdXGDC5gqJU0dAs_XR8_yMI8malhO/s1600/trouser.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyeg7YKPrvpCIias4OUzdUaHbnAVYZAuYiTApk_xOwtrgFdjBXdOQv0XQp1_MSgdw8q8VPJpeBM0F2uReYiJ83LoQvQOdAiOiVQS9AM4Q3a5Hlil5MdXGDC5gqJU0dAs_XR8_yMI8malhO/s400/trouser.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495077228305094690" /></a>I gave this an extra star because 1) Graham Chapman, at the top of his game, was hilarious and 2) I was lucky enough to see Graham speak during this college tour. Back in the mid-80s I was excited to go see him, but I <em><strong>do</strong></em> remember leaving a little disappointed. 20 years later, I'm even more disappointed, because Graham's forte was essentially slapstick, and this is just him sitting and talking about extreme sports (really!). Video quality is not good (and 80's fashion quality from the kids in the audience is <em><strong>far</strong></em> worse), but that's not important considering it's really just Graham sitting and talking and occasionally getting up and walking around the stage (sorry, no silly walks). Bottom line: BROWN TROUSER JOB is just <em><strong>dull</strong></em>. Don't remember him this way.The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-86108698623251532352010-07-10T01:21:00.000-07:002010-07-10T01:24:02.214-07:00SURE, SHE RUINED BUFFY, BUT SHE'S TRYING TO MAKE UP FOR IT...<a href="http://www.gifbin.com/981368"><img src="http://www.gifbin.com/bin/313g6g605653.gif" alt="funny animated gif"></a>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-55304918125951128552010-07-07T20:22:00.000-07:002010-07-07T20:37:34.551-07:00CAT IN THE BRAIN (1990)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKD4jvYKW13HS-AJry9CYFVV4qVn7feg8h4Tct46AdQd2VbCswkw87PEVFwmO-gUXdFAxk72J9Qc7PapzP3G1yDhvN4sZzRCyABVEw1JmD7vh1A-dsMLsYOzoMqo3TfPmtnAvaOjnU8CT/s1600/cat_in_the_brain_2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491373297511971890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKD4jvYKW13HS-AJry9CYFVV4qVn7feg8h4Tct46AdQd2VbCswkw87PEVFwmO-gUXdFAxk72J9Qc7PapzP3G1yDhvN4sZzRCyABVEw1JmD7vh1A-dsMLsYOzoMqo3TfPmtnAvaOjnU8CT/s400/cat_in_the_brain_2.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>HEH HEH, SHE'S GOT A PEARL (AND BLOOD) NECKLACE, HEH HEH. OH. YUCK.</strong><br /><br /><br />Some snot-nosed kid on Amazon called Lucio Fulci's 1990 gorefest CAT IN THE BRAIN "sloppy." Well, kid, sloppy ain't the half of it. There's a scene where somebody gets attacked with a chainsaw in the house and there's a splitsecond shot of someone picking up the saw <em><strong>FROM THE GRASS OUTDOORS!</strong></em> But God love him, little Lucio's having a <em><strong>ball</strong></em> with this film, he's like a kid in a meathook market. There's more gore here than at a Global Warming Seminar (that's a bad Al Gore joke), and even though it looks kinda fake by today's standards, the sheer <em><strong>joy </strong></em>and <em><strong>exuberance</strong></em> Lucio exhibits in his handling of it is hard to resist. If only today's bloodbaths (SAW and HOSTEL, I'm looking at you) were this much <em><strong>fun</strong></em>, kids today wouldn't be so screwed up. Oh that wacky Lucio Fulci! </div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-46443738158492088752010-07-02T18:12:00.000-07:002010-07-02T18:23:30.854-07:00TRAVEL SIZE REVIEW: VIVA (2007)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6bHwwjgB1BQgfiElv1UrnFF5HHAj5qIG_eBrEN_qlSv4Eq7ME6fhqlQbqqPx9vMkBsXfbW0iEguABUdlYG33_2OAwIAIdtcA10gNcv8YrUkZ-2SLyP3p-GJF5XU0pH93vY49q-7oSWWP/s1600/VIVA2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489482126630151346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 215px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6bHwwjgB1BQgfiElv1UrnFF5HHAj5qIG_eBrEN_qlSv4Eq7ME6fhqlQbqqPx9vMkBsXfbW0iEguABUdlYG33_2OAwIAIdtcA10gNcv8YrUkZ-2SLyP3p-GJF5XU0pH93vY49q-7oSWWP/s400/VIVA2.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>MY STARS, THAT NEW LEMON PIPERS SONG IS <em>DREAMY!</em> </strong><p>People are right. This is a visually stunning cross between <strong>Boogie Nights</strong>, <strong>Beyond the Valley of the Dolls </strong>and every porn tape your dad has stashed in the basement. But read that running time again. 120 minutes. That's <strong><em>TWO FRIGGIN' HOURS</em></strong>. For what would be a hilarious SNL skit. I mean, imagine if Bill Murray's Italian Hercules sketch was made into a feature length film by Peter Jackson. Not so funny by the time minute 49 rolls around, is it? So yeah, I give Anna Biller props for a dead-on recreation of <strong>Cinemax After Dark 1973</strong>, but Anna, you need to remember that <strong><em>no</em></strong> bad movies ran over 80 minutes back then. Not to mention Anna's landing strip bush is a <strong><em>glaring </em></strong>anachronism. <strong><em>Grow it out</em></strong>, girl. It's <strong><em>1973!</em></strong></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCjCBYSUCRgvcdi7fePml2pW4T99mJKe446NEwnHB5gAq36d3sxERSeOHken8NlnvUCjwB8q9Fe33jXRKxObBA6HYa6_lVfpamf4od6Nrq8V8q39dagiqXr5vhtAUobMW5rGy6NV_xxF4/s1600/viva-jpg_w800_h600_fit.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489483688153419186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCjCBYSUCRgvcdi7fePml2pW4T99mJKe446NEwnHB5gAq36d3sxERSeOHken8NlnvUCjwB8q9Fe33jXRKxObBA6HYa6_lVfpamf4od6Nrq8V8q39dagiqXr5vhtAUobMW5rGy6NV_xxF4/s400/viva-jpg_w800_h600_fit.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>IF THIS WERE <em>REALLY</em> 1973, THAT BUSH WOULD BE HALF WAY UP HER STOMACH.</strong> </div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-6353812633246013462010-06-17T15:29:00.000-07:002010-06-17T15:37:14.874-07:00TRAVEL-SIZE REVIEW: THE STUFF (1985)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp9-kmgECer-JhmQ_b6kiljUAnsEJSMj6rmVKZhpGw_m_83B8Z0t6vUlWZ1qoP3Lf8LLU_tsraJFF8vMn-_ElzhfSpOmXf70rG63XusBmqrvOL8mcYI9lSULRWTxbV_9XDdaiFSDuY5ZF6/s1600/stuff_shot3l.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483874102293434290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp9-kmgECer-JhmQ_b6kiljUAnsEJSMj6rmVKZhpGw_m_83B8Z0t6vUlWZ1qoP3Lf8LLU_tsraJFF8vMn-_ElzhfSpOmXf70rG63XusBmqrvOL8mcYI9lSULRWTxbV_9XDdaiFSDuY5ZF6/s400/stuff_shot3l.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>FLUFFERBLOODER.</strong> <p><br />"Garrett Morris lampoons Famous Amos"? <em><strong>What?</strong></em> You <em><strong>still</strong></em> haven't rented this yet? It's got killer <em><strong>ice cream </strong></em>forgodsake! And Michael Moriarty, who can't <em><strong>possibly</strong></em> be sober. And hey, I think I counted two or three times where there may have been a gory special effect - that's about 30 seconds out of 90 minutes - and I didn't count the times when the yogurt chases someone or Garrett Morris's head explodes, because they're actually <em><strong>funny.</strong></em> Now if they would've burst open Dan Aykroyd's fat melon, I might've actually <em><strong>cheered</strong></em>. God, I <em><strong>know</strong></em> Larry Cohen's a hack, but <strong>THE STUFF </strong>somehow even made <strong>Q: THE WINGED SERPENT </strong>look good. Did I mention Garrett Morris lampoons Famous Amos? </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRmdZ5EWlzoQlhkwV9taEneM848JIGCG8NlcK1EZK5M9RT8BAq01hfio2I_ystWB-FrTOu3Zadz0qaCgoEia2IvTPE846exs3l1bwZBhYpmfKs4hLahYTDIstEuJyvvm8txqBYV8kGzoo/s1600/Stuff_The_Andrea_Marcovicci_10.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483874404835706434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRmdZ5EWlzoQlhkwV9taEneM848JIGCG8NlcK1EZK5M9RT8BAq01hfio2I_ystWB-FrTOu3Zadz0qaCgoEia2IvTPE846exs3l1bwZBhYpmfKs4hLahYTDIstEuJyvvm8txqBYV8kGzoo/s400/Stuff_The_Andrea_Marcovicci_10.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>GARRETT MORRIS GETS MORE FACE TIME HERE THAN IN THE FIRST THREE <em>SEASONS</em> OF SNL.</strong> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3OAnsSpjxKR-6dUmlWc7FdPOf0ZQOCnuBx9mwVACgsVl2d2LBtE72ZRH0AAct68bGAQCLMB0e_b1r_viuwItcBTM3eWj2yVvQ-Ba7-Kr_NQ3laDf5Yc50bWI9EyN1nZC64tYjAIJQYxk_/s1600/Stuff_The_Brooke-Adams_5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483874735890571634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3OAnsSpjxKR-6dUmlWc7FdPOf0ZQOCnuBx9mwVACgsVl2d2LBtE72ZRH0AAct68bGAQCLMB0e_b1r_viuwItcBTM3eWj2yVvQ-Ba7-Kr_NQ3laDf5Yc50bWI9EyN1nZC64tYjAIJQYxk_/s400/Stuff_The_Brooke-Adams_5.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>BUT BROOKE, THIS IS A <em>FAMILY</em> FILM.</strong><br /></p></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-26934909381214566992010-06-07T14:29:00.000-07:002010-06-07T15:42:37.746-07:00RITUAL OF DEATH (1990)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2jE9Nz9JE8NDhHBA_xggHbeDzRPv5nHuZafuzCYIr7zkVM1KKemvVwNB-Rc8ez7xrpwhbmsyAPTsrhI_b2JeIAZ8ZknFWI7GriTv0_bJaYZYKob1qXt-tTwu5q0u0B9vrksllFeyJRFKg/s1600/unknown+real+bad+h+ickey.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480165127433076722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2jE9Nz9JE8NDhHBA_xggHbeDzRPv5nHuZafuzCYIr7zkVM1KKemvVwNB-Rc8ez7xrpwhbmsyAPTsrhI_b2JeIAZ8ZknFWI7GriTv0_bJaYZYKob1qXt-tTwu5q0u0B9vrksllFeyJRFKg/s400/unknown+real+bad+h+ickey.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>WORST HICKEY OF HIS LIFE.</strong> <p><br /><br />RITUAL OF DEATH. Well now, that's a pretty generic title. What exactly <em><strong>is</strong></em> a "ritual of death"? Some would say that's marriage. I wouldn't disagree. Some would say that's autoerotic asphyxiation. David Carradine and Michael Hutchence would agree. Truth is, RITUAL OF DEATH isn't about either marriage or autoerotic asphyxiation. So then, what <em><strong>is</strong></em> it about? Fuck if I know. But it's a <em><strong>ton</strong></em> of fun nonetheless. Filled with nekkid Brazilian babes, green pus, goats head soup and one or two genuinely repulsive gooey FX that make you wonder if they weren't on loan from some early Peter Jackson film, if I had to sum up RITUAL OF DEATH in three words, I'd probably go with this: What the fuck? </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopVesZr53fkKYPzsVBrioDTJxAF_mbdvy37b0KtC0hoHlLttXg16FHrm5nxnn2co7uImjq4wfsc59wydqGZdA-GYnsarOtnlScjL2hfljOs06YoKFsGCuCby42dtKaAwCge-aVJjMP-tq/s1600/unknown+am+i+bothering+you.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480164065861407698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopVesZr53fkKYPzsVBrioDTJxAF_mbdvy37b0KtC0hoHlLttXg16FHrm5nxnn2co7uImjq4wfsc59wydqGZdA-GYnsarOtnlScjL2hfljOs06YoKFsGCuCby42dtKaAwCge-aVJjMP-tq/s400/unknown+am+i+bothering+you.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>DOES THIS <em>BOTHER</em> YOU?</strong> <p><br /><br /><br />As I watched this film, I noticed several things. First of all, <em><strong>no one </strong></em>seemed to be reading their lines right. I’m not talking about bad <em><strong>acting</strong></em> – shit, <em><strong>every</strong></em> low budget horror film has their fair share of bad acting. No, in RITUAL OF DEATH it sounds like no one understands <em><strong>English </strong></em>– the inflections are off, there are odd pauses where they don’t belong, and accentuated words are always the wrong ones. “That’s what everybody says, <em><strong>around</strong></em> here.” “Well, at least we were able to <em><strong>get</strong></em> through…the whole <em><strong>piece</strong></em> today.” Those are just two examples, but pretty much <em><strong>every</strong></em> line in the movie is spoken like that. You wanna have fun? Play a drinking game where you down a shot every time someone takes an odd pause where...there shouldn’t be one or accentuates <em><strong>the</strong></em> wrong word. You’ll be drunk...before the half <em><strong>hour</strong></em> mark. </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2aTLQwR3jYStU9ibMy19QYtt9V5x8_xj-ebr-SBBLEHHAX72NN2rcUXqxEVLXY435Awfk7iM2kKNCB_7j6SuzCcIoWyXhpHinjM7gIomoAChlO3b8oEjSYNZL0NKpiv6_oxXkO8R3LZaQ/s1600/unknown+boobs.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480151193999653282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2aTLQwR3jYStU9ibMy19QYtt9V5x8_xj-ebr-SBBLEHHAX72NN2rcUXqxEVLXY435Awfk7iM2kKNCB_7j6SuzCcIoWyXhpHinjM7gIomoAChlO3b8oEjSYNZL0NKpiv6_oxXkO8R3LZaQ/s400/unknown+boobs.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>DO I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION YET?</strong> <p><br />The <em><strong>second</strong></em> thing I noticed is that there are quite a lot of abnormally <em><strong>hot</strong></em> young girls in RITUAL OF DEATH. And they like to get all nacky nacky and shit. That’s unusual for really <em><strong>really</strong></em> low budget films like this, where the roles of “college girls” are usually filled with 38-year-old strippers from the local Cupcakes Lounge. Or the director’s chubby tattooed friend. Or Shannon Tweed. So when hottie after hottie start parading their well-toned bodies across my little Zenith Trinitron, I start to wonder just how the fuck someone pulled <em><strong>this</strong></em> one off. </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihURvEKbUkeMA7bFux366Ps5O5kdEXNoRGOFItJDPuBmHcx-4cUYPqRxQKmkc9JJufxpw3oKrmQBxY2LSImpRVnZknjYX7erd9YPdMTMiDZ4yGJBFxJ-tqcWttmwSY2Tbekrbd0ChLnTjf/s1600/unknown+bloody.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480164392629217554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihURvEKbUkeMA7bFux366Ps5O5kdEXNoRGOFItJDPuBmHcx-4cUYPqRxQKmkc9JJufxpw3oKrmQBxY2LSImpRVnZknjYX7erd9YPdMTMiDZ4yGJBFxJ-tqcWttmwSY2Tbekrbd0ChLnTjf/s400/unknown+bloody.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>THE DASHING YOUNG BRAD. HE'S A LADYKILLER.</strong> <p><br /><br /><br />The answer to both questions is simple. RITUAL OF DEATH was filmed by one of Brazil’s most infamous pornographers, Fauzi Mansur. So yeah, the dude probably just thumbed through his rolodex and picked out the best-looking ten names – and in the land of Adriana Lima, you can’t go wrong even with porn stars. That would <em><strong>also</strong></em> explain each character’s endless trouble with the English language. Oddly enough, it sounds like everyone’s lines were recorded separately, in the middle of an empty B-52 aircraft hangar, then dubbed back in later, giving the film a feel not unlike those old Italian Hercules films. It’s a fucking lexographer’s wet dream. <em><strong>Literally</strong></em>.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXD7rbh13ocnItcQJcx8CKZm8JNu6TDJ5IB_jeGemnfCN6OSYOaB-NunabDQegnKtnIDsaeorzVXubAMgg3x2kZSibTYtIC4S4MG_TK-hOCL9WoPt6-Yud72fJYgYIpd9R-S0Mj4SZKSs/s1600/unknown+goats+head+soup.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480153114444773890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 211px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXD7rbh13ocnItcQJcx8CKZm8JNu6TDJ5IB_jeGemnfCN6OSYOaB-NunabDQegnKtnIDsaeorzVXubAMgg3x2kZSibTYtIC4S4MG_TK-hOCL9WoPt6-Yud72fJYgYIpd9R-S0Mj4SZKSs/s400/unknown+goats+head+soup.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>ANGIE, YOU CAN'T SAY WE NEVER TRI-I-IED. </strong><p><br />The <em><strong>story</strong></em>, by the way, what little there is, concerns a boy named Brad, who starts having hallucinations about ancient Egyptian/Indian Satanic rituals, where a dapper British looking gent who got kicked off the set of the Avengers gives him a hairy book while his decaying hands drip strawberry milk. Brad’s friend, meanwhile, looks like a <em><strong>Magic: The Gathering </strong></em>fan who scoffs at Brad’s hallucinations and instead reminds him that Brent Spiner will be appearing at next month’s Comic Con so they better get tickets now.<br /><br />It’s too bad no one believes Brad, because soon he’s rubbing raw bloody goat liver on his chest in his bedroom while his semi-drunk and fully-retarded Granny (just wait till you her how much trouble <em><strong>she </strong></em>has with the English language) starts cackling like a banshee with Downs syndrome. Next thing you know, a buxom Brazilian hottie is taking a bath with a bloody goats head while someone is yelling really fucking annoyingly in the background. It’s hot in a really confusing fucked-up Satanic way, but if you’re turned on by that kinda stuff, better rub one out quick because Comic Con dude shows up with his flabby man-ass not long after to join her for a little <em><strong>double</strong></em> Goats Head Soup. You have been warned. </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZB4QlwJhmPfOZuhIbO0OA2sxXLF0_0gxQzIIoLquPVMlZlJ9bQhXSrXGj_BDhjvXdDrewbLk3zO2x1zCARdBM5FSXptUR0kaPGYl-EqlURrbFzsnwVqDZeecgADqNHNE0HGn7UciO586j/s1600/unknown+that+just+changed+the+rating.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480154129207045826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZB4QlwJhmPfOZuhIbO0OA2sxXLF0_0gxQzIIoLquPVMlZlJ9bQhXSrXGj_BDhjvXdDrewbLk3zO2x1zCARdBM5FSXptUR0kaPGYl-EqlURrbFzsnwVqDZeecgADqNHNE0HGn7UciO586j/s400/unknown+that+just+changed+the+rating.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>AW SHIT, <em>THAT</em> JUST CHANGED THE MPAA RATING.</strong> <p><br />Meanwhile, Comic Con dude has figured out that Brad <em><strong>might</strong></em> be possessed by the spirit of an ancient priest, and while he’s explaining it to Brad at the breakfast table, a girl in a red dress suddenly walks into the room, picks up a portrait of said Satanic preacher, and props it conveniently between the two guys for the camera to linger on. Exposition on a budget, you can’t beat that with a stick. Then Brad’s troubles <em><strong>really</strong></em> start. </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7ta2Vs4oyJ6P2jGjEsIIM-oqnRZrqL_hg0yp20EEDnuO0oJIxVtfuu3se73saMwyxn-8YyhTs8SDRNd1_JRDWv4TiKwfoXYCuooMCGYUbHestPf4jPzQfig8GCTczDBFzV1KRIVN7MRB/s1600/unknown+poppa+zit.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480154931257749730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 196px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7ta2Vs4oyJ6P2jGjEsIIM-oqnRZrqL_hg0yp20EEDnuO0oJIxVtfuu3se73saMwyxn-8YyhTs8SDRNd1_JRDWv4TiKwfoXYCuooMCGYUbHestPf4jPzQfig8GCTczDBFzV1KRIVN7MRB/s400/unknown+poppa+zit.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>POPPA ZIT.</strong> <p><br />It all starts when he gets up in the middle of the night to pop a really big zit, which explodes <em><strong>disgustingly</strong></em> on the bathroom mirror in a torrent of butterscotch pudding. But soon after, he’s literally <em><strong>peeling off the side of his face </strong></em>in a scene that’s even <em><strong>more</strong></em> nasty than the scene in <em><strong>Poltergeist</strong></em>, ripping off skin while Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle green goop runs down the side of his neck. It’s truly gruesome stuff,<em><strong> ver</strong></em>y effective for such a low-budget film. And a bummer if you were digging the Brazilian porn. </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7rwE4l0jML72kX3Wd0cPqrkLhrkrSwM2Xw6QS5msVSqt8jfGiUb8QaXofHBcbgJ2KV_vPvT0UQdFEa707Y3-NBLQ06rYomnIeitZJsA9dtZt8CKedSsA6Z7pz15EmWnm0cIu8Cl64l31X/s1600/unknown+but+the+prom+is+tomorrow.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480155256767476962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7rwE4l0jML72kX3Wd0cPqrkLhrkrSwM2Xw6QS5msVSqt8jfGiUb8QaXofHBcbgJ2KV_vPvT0UQdFEa707Y3-NBLQ06rYomnIeitZJsA9dtZt8CKedSsA6Z7pz15EmWnm0cIu8Cl64l31X/s400/unknown+but+the+prom+is+tomorrow.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>FUCK, AND THE PROM IS <em>TOMORROW NIGHT</em>!</strong> <p><br />Now possessed, Brad goes on a killing spree, ripping out hot young Brazilian girls’ intestines with a claw hammer while his body count rises dramatically. Which kinda <em><strong>sucks</strong></em> actually, because this freak is wasting some <em><strong>seriously</strong></em> hot Victoria’s Secret ass, and in <em><strong>my</strong></em> country, that doesn’t come along every day. It does for Brad, though, and amazingly enough, even though he’s still oozing day-glo green slime and looks like <em><strong>shit</strong></em>, these South American hotties are <em><strong>still</strong></em> offering their meat balloons to him at the drop of a hat (or body part in this case). Jesus, back when I was in high school, all it took was a big whitehead to make you an anathema to every chick in the building. Again, I ask. What the fuck? </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvcSKOYDM93wCJ8WucRoL5TcKou1rcz3RbKAC3ODJYyNFc5FhmRuZww5G4KvMKw1oPE8Apo-oe3zhOJS4H4oV93j8bYMpWp6sfu2gxMB_qyA_F6swr-GmKRWgFNZC6NcEH8e8EgZUmlWl/s1600/unknown+spew.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480156251477806594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvcSKOYDM93wCJ8WucRoL5TcKou1rcz3RbKAC3ODJYyNFc5FhmRuZww5G4KvMKw1oPE8Apo-oe3zhOJS4H4oV93j8bYMpWp6sfu2gxMB_qyA_F6swr-GmKRWgFNZC6NcEH8e8EgZUmlWl/s400/unknown+spew.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>DUDE'S STILL GOT IT GOIN' ON.</strong> <p><br />Yet the Brazilian babes keep coming, and keep taking off their shirts willy nilly for this emotionless, frail fuckface. But the worst part about it by <em><strong>far</strong></em> – he doesn’t even take <em><strong>advantage</strong></em> of it! Every time he’s faced with a half-naked babe, he <em><strong>kills</strong></em> her. Right away too. It’s not like he’s a necrophiliac either, ‘cuz as soon as they’re dead, he walks away. This dude throws away more teen poontang than Scott Baio and Pauly Shore combined. Only one babe in the entire fucking film seems to <em><strong>realize</strong></em> he’s messed up, and that's the best line in the movie. There she is, face to face with Brad, who’s now dressed in a Dollar Tree Mr. Executioner sub-Renaissance Faire costume, covered in blood from the neck down, his melting, decayed, green-pustuled hands carrying bloody chains, and she actually, swear to God, says – “Something’s wrong here!” Yes, oh yes there is honey. Your shirt’s still on. </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__MSmNpXuz2fIVTDW4KaRmxnKR_VHYdF1wBPVkmZcLkSHMPbh3U0ZGNUTcSIDtetLUjC6uSdH3o9JY5iDsOmTKsoT5KlD2x-Ih2S87UiVi3qAM7l2qMxG2UwJBJ6QS_Nu-20X1UVg4Fri/s1600/unknown+hottie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480157412267723010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 215px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__MSmNpXuz2fIVTDW4KaRmxnKR_VHYdF1wBPVkmZcLkSHMPbh3U0ZGNUTcSIDtetLUjC6uSdH3o9JY5iDsOmTKsoT5KlD2x-Ih2S87UiVi3qAM7l2qMxG2UwJBJ6QS_Nu-20X1UVg4Fri/s400/unknown+hottie.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>I'VE GOT A HEADACHE AND I DON'T WEAR PANTS.</strong> <p><br />Meanwhile, in another classic bit of dialogue, Brazilian’s finest are finally closing in on Brad. Bimbo 1: “One of the policemen made a drawing based on the description.” Teen 2 (after looking at it): “It’s <em><strong>awful</strong></em>!” Teen 3: “We think it’s Brad!” Thanks, guys. No wonder this kid’s killing you off. Meanwhile, Brad’s now backstage at some playhouse, now killing <em><strong>dudes </strong></em>this time, because hey, what the hell, what does it <em><strong>matter</strong></em> if you’re not gonna <em><strong>fuck</strong></em> ‘em? Brad, still dressed like a bad WWF wrestler, pushes a big spinning stage fan toward one stupid frat boy, who literally lays on the floor screaming “<em><strong>No! No! It’s not safe</strong></em>!” for what feels like <em><strong>three fucking minutes </strong></em>while Brad <em><strong>slo-o-o-wly </strong></em>pushes the spinning blades at him. Only this time, in an unexpected and inspired moment of wry comedy (aw, who are we fooling, it was probably just a mistake), it’s not the <em><strong>blades</strong></em> that get him, it’s the tiny little fucking lawnmower <em><strong>tires</strong></em> that squash him like a ripe pomegranate until his small intestine spills out on the stage floor. And that, in a nutshell, is why you should find a copy of RITUAL OF DEATH at all costs. Because there’s <em><strong>lots</strong></em> of gore. Good, gooey, drippy, oozing pustules of disgusting gore, and the effects still stand up fairly well today. In fact, they might be <em><strong>better</strong></em>, being of the prosthetic appliance and real animal guts variety versus today’s shitty computer generated crap. Yes, the <em><strong>acting</strong></em> sucks. Yes, the <em><strong>dialogue</strong></em> sucks. And yes, swear to God, a black cop actually says “What are you jiving at?” in this movie. </p><p><br /> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIlYjyWRqolMgKcuxy0w1RwdNx040zG_F_b5rud8ibCP7FsxUS9iN-XM17Gd0kLk3WBLAhx5Y_TvvQdrm_BR73RAn3ePZz5yZ4GWr84JDAIXL74wS1CDZUz8B5Y_w_gnNHI-My1-H1JuS8/s1600/unknown+no+pants.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480160916351533810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIlYjyWRqolMgKcuxy0w1RwdNx040zG_F_b5rud8ibCP7FsxUS9iN-XM17Gd0kLk3WBLAhx5Y_TvvQdrm_BR73RAn3ePZz5yZ4GWr84JDAIXL74wS1CDZUz8B5Y_w_gnNHI-My1-H1JuS8/s400/unknown+no+pants.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>I'M AN INTERIOR DECORATOR. AND I DON'T WEAR PANTS.</strong> <p><br />But despite its shortcomings and its stream-of-conscious Satanic plotline (if there even <em><strong>is</strong></em> one), it’s got sex and it’s got violence. And it’s got one of the world’s most hilariously inept screeching female death metal tribal fuck theme songs with lyrics about weasels and Satan and Satanic weasels. The kids around town tell me there used to be an alternative rock band called Screeching Weasel. Well, <em><strong>these </strong></em>girls are the <em><strong>real deal</strong></em>. And it’s the only possible way to end a big steaming, dripping cesspool of demonic filth like RITUAL OF DEATH. And that, in case you didn’t know, was a ringing endorsement.<br /><br /><strong>FOUR OUT OF FIVE KARIS.<br /></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih59eze4YOgpd70PyUyt_wa9rPshu0yimbZsVSa_bxwT3BXh1-CLUlowNzFoHV3nTxGo6kP2yTbgMn8dAOmCjBftmSwLg9EdfWwgMjUXqRzZSXkalVqcKAbrytx7YYVv4vqEfiADtwu5FJ/s1600/kari+4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480161720141225410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 347px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih59eze4YOgpd70PyUyt_wa9rPshu0yimbZsVSa_bxwT3BXh1-CLUlowNzFoHV3nTxGo6kP2yTbgMn8dAOmCjBftmSwLg9EdfWwgMjUXqRzZSXkalVqcKAbrytx7YYVv4vqEfiADtwu5FJ/s400/kari+4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p><strong>FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS:</strong> </p><p><br /><strong>23 minutes </strong>– Topless babe takes bath with bleeding goats head. Nice swirling MTV camera style. Who the <em><strong>fuck</strong></em> is screaming in the background though? Be quick, buzzkill approaching with sudden man ass.<br /><br /><strong>25 minutes </strong>– Hey, it’s the Egyptian/Brazilian high school stage rendition of Barbarella!<br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-1vbXk3nggdWI3b0CK3VJ7tkLIAuQG4Nq9_W6qIx6qOss5mVbEy2YgrDTZXdm_LxNEjDU6SzKukL-64Hhufp-WQwvzUEr80HWfCP4JG1GzwMTdWMsavKU273PztpaxDey1zMf5uLZ_7F/s1600/unknown+duran+duran+wild+girls.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480162123817400914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 207px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-1vbXk3nggdWI3b0CK3VJ7tkLIAuQG4Nq9_W6qIx6qOss5mVbEy2YgrDTZXdm_LxNEjDU6SzKukL-64Hhufp-WQwvzUEr80HWfCP4JG1GzwMTdWMsavKU273PztpaxDey1zMf5uLZ_7F/s400/unknown+duran+duran+wild+girls.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>GOD, I USED TO <em>LOVE</em> DURAN DURAN VIDEOS!<br /></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong>37 minutes </strong>– The blueprint of bad acting, an incredible non-stop string of bad actors and actresses exchange the worst readings in the history of cinema, ending with the should-be-cult-classic line “Brad, you <em><strong>asshole</strong></em>!” (Shaking fist in the air defiantly)<br /><br /><strong>39 minutes </strong>– More topless Goats Head Soup.<br /><br /><strong>40 minutes </strong>– The disgusting zit pop/face rip scene. Nothing a half gallon of Clearasil couldn’t solve.<br /><br /><strong>48 minutes </strong>– Full-frontal Devil sex, Skinemax-style. With Eighties bush! How <em><strong>retro</strong></em>!<br /><br /><strong>51 minutes </strong>– Another Brazilian hottie doffs her top willingly for Pustule Man. And yes, her breasts are as fantastic as her acting is terrible.<br /><br /><strong>53 minutes </strong>– A black cop says “What are you <em><strong>jiving</strong></em> at?” Racial relations in Brazil take one giant step <em><strong>backwards.</strong></em><br /><br /><strong>56 minutes </strong>– Another hottie hangs up painting with no pants on.<br /><br /><strong>57 minutes </strong>– Her reward? A knife in the mouth. The ENTIRE knife. </div><div align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZ7Djepc7lkOb2FdKtPL7CGIL7S4ysx4bLXKaOfvkZes7KEjbsWSPInftzF8l9VtTjayZ3WD637j3d-lxext4VqkZHbOx7O67PvVunoPNXlttA3umdHq3b4Lk8HcpnUxCjdDFr3NpSQ1z/s1600/unknown+knife+in+mouth.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480163025361913522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 224px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZ7Djepc7lkOb2FdKtPL7CGIL7S4ysx4bLXKaOfvkZes7KEjbsWSPInftzF8l9VtTjayZ3WD637j3d-lxext4VqkZHbOx7O67PvVunoPNXlttA3umdHq3b4Lk8HcpnUxCjdDFr3NpSQ1z/s400/unknown+knife+in+mouth.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>NOPE. NOT GOOD.<br /></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-55966821039133920982010-05-21T19:47:00.000-07:002010-05-21T19:56:42.664-07:00TRAVEL SIZE REVIEW: AFTER HOURS (1985)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUMxZzAr92oQIn_ASPle4HSvcFAZJTdA1uT-I-WWIdf2hJM6ySpuKmLkNiL_U2Mh0GwgB0Hm3ksBd6uPqK1-zfESstVjyDhV7QqNiNnyfLtHpUGFo0VZunbt8hf9tF5iCi4tSD2AzRVX0y/s1600/after_hours_1985_685x385.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473921828578118994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUMxZzAr92oQIn_ASPle4HSvcFAZJTdA1uT-I-WWIdf2hJM6ySpuKmLkNiL_U2Mh0GwgB0Hm3ksBd6uPqK1-zfESstVjyDhV7QqNiNnyfLtHpUGFo0VZunbt8hf9tF5iCi4tSD2AzRVX0y/s400/after_hours_1985_685x385.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Scorsese's finest moment. Forget <em><strong>Taxi Driver </strong></em>(overrated), forget <em><strong>Raging Bull </strong></em>(black and white) and forget <em><strong>Bringing Out the Dead</strong></em> (<em><strong>please</strong></em>). <strong>AFTER HOURS </strong>is the man at his peak, weaving a black comedy spiralling deeper out of control as one particularly bad night in Manhattan winds its way slowly toward dawn. Teri Garr extols the virtues of the Monkees, Rosanna Arquette shows off her <em><strong>ample</strong></em> curves, and Cheech and Chong do <em><strong>not</strong></em> smoke weed. And Robert DeNiro is nowhere to be found. Did I hear you say "<em><strong>masterpiece</strong></em>"?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcKaWwpvBbHr427Kxd2GhyC9RteCyk1iiplTEEskoM-JpUWPeR-ux1jAXgw32bEwYMI7PGydWUIez8W2kDHUr5j6ygg-LEwUYBvCuRbCYtx52i1YGy6gCukgzUSRgaXga82TgHpNG93k-e/s1600/afterhours_1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473921119531046466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 231px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcKaWwpvBbHr427Kxd2GhyC9RteCyk1iiplTEEskoM-JpUWPeR-ux1jAXgw32bEwYMI7PGydWUIez8W2kDHUr5j6ygg-LEwUYBvCuRbCYtx52i1YGy6gCukgzUSRgaXga82TgHpNG93k-e/s400/afterhours_1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>ROSANNA ARQUETTE. TOTO WROTE A SONG ABOUT HER. THEY ALSO WROTE ONE ABOUT AFRIKA BAMBAATAA TOO, DIDN'T THEY?</strong></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-6577433452440030042010-05-14T14:40:00.000-07:002010-05-14T15:46:47.847-07:00DEMONWARP (1988)<div align="center">YOU WANT A MOVIE THAT’S 1/3 ACID TRIP, 1/3 <strong><em>SHRIEK OF THE MUTILATED</em></strong> AND 1/3 OF THE FREAKIEST SCI-FI ZOMBIE ALIEN <strong><em>LIFEFORCE</em></strong> MEETS <strong><em>Q THE WINGED SERPENT </em></strong>MINDFUCK YOU’VE EVER SEEN IN YOUR <strong><em>LIFE</em></strong>? WELL, BOYS AND GIRLS, IT’S <strong><em>DEMONWARP</em></strong>. AND IF YOU'RE UP FOR THE CHALLENGE, IT’LL EVEN THROW IN OSCAR WINNER GEORGE KENNEDY AND THAT KID FROM <strong><em>SILVER SPOONS</em></strong> WHO <strong><em>ISN’T</em></strong> RICKY SCHROEDER JUST FOR THE SHEER BLOODY HELL OF IT. SO WHADDYA SAY? WANNA PIECE OF <strong><em>THIS</em></strong> ONE? </div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqEkBr7ZUaBEIsEw1o_MjTflo6pg-WeUNdmPUhKfJUCOVwmd99m60_Wg_1H3nSEV7L8hr_PbDgYVI6TcKOXyyyr_Vw_hnQe7xoQYlZB-l2ETJkvFHYSyHz1pxPp7jE3MIlyipHOvq-eir/s1600/DEMONWARP+SASQUATCH.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471247075154004690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqEkBr7ZUaBEIsEw1o_MjTflo6pg-WeUNdmPUhKfJUCOVwmd99m60_Wg_1H3nSEV7L8hr_PbDgYVI6TcKOXyyyr_Vw_hnQe7xoQYlZB-l2ETJkvFHYSyHz1pxPp7jE3MIlyipHOvq-eir/s400/DEMONWARP+SASQUATCH.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>PSST, HEY! THAT FAMOUS SHOT OF ME RUNNING THROUGH THE FOREST? NOT MY BEST ANGLE. </strong><p align="center"><br /></p><div align="center">WHY <em><strong>NOT</strong></em>, THAT’S WHAT I SAID. THIS ONE’S GOT IT <em><strong>ALL.</strong></em> IT’S A BIG HONKIN’ FUCKFEST OF BAD ACTING, BIGFOOT COSTUMES, DRIPPY ALIEN GOOP, ZOMBIES IN SPENCER’S GIFTS HALLOWEEN MASKS, AND B-MOVIE BOMBSHELL TITTIES FOR <em><strong>NO DAMN REASON</strong></em>! AW, BUT I’M GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF. LET’S TAKE THIS ONE SLOWER. LIKE, SAY, THE FIRST FUCKING <em><strong>HOUR</strong></em> OF THIS FILM! YEAH, THAT’S THE PENALTY TO GET TO THE PAYOFF IN <em><strong>DEMONWARP</strong></em>. THE FIRST HOUR OF THIS RAGGED LITTLE GEM PLAYS ALMOST EXACTLY LIKE THE WORST BIGFOOT IN THE WOODS MID-70’S SH<em><strong>RIEK OF THE MUTILATED/CURSE OF BIGFOOT </strong></em>MEETS <em><strong>GRIZZLY</strong></em> SUMMER ROMP YOU CAN REMEMBER, WITH GRIZZLED OLD GEORGE KENNEDY PLAYING THE VENGEFUL OLD FOREST DWELLER TYPE, AND A PICKUP-FULL OF YOUNG, PRECOCIOUS SEXUALLY-PROMISCUOUS TEENS PROVIDING THE GUPPY FOOD. AND LOOKY HERE, ONE OF THE GUYS IS THAT KID FROM SILVER SPOONS, BILLY JACOBY, ALSO KNOWN AMONGST 80’S TEEN MOVIE BUFFS AS BUDDY GRIFFITH FROM <em><strong>JUST ONE OF THE GUYS</strong></em>! NOW HOW COOL IS <em><strong>THAT?</strong></em> ANOTHER ONE OF THESE KIDS, THE ONE THEY CALL FRED, GREW UP TO APPEAR IN A FEW EPISODES OF <em><strong>DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES</strong></em>, ALTHOUGH MY GIRLFRIEND DOESN’T REMEMBER HIM AT ALL, AND SHE WATCHED THAT SHIT RELIGIOUSLY. SO THERE YOU HAVE IT. </div><p align="center"></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBYbZgU7SBbXKwA7vVjXs0yqhib6z29CrVdvEyKsotOXMO5TPk-gpn21r6F345qYgJr6QLrf0V6tkvRaoj3S0Lobb0PzBdd0p2RN68tp2LxjXTUfL4f6-6mJzsGFTXrkIpMt7Qo_q-N2o/s1600/demonwarp+buddy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471244808383391170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBYbZgU7SBbXKwA7vVjXs0yqhib6z29CrVdvEyKsotOXMO5TPk-gpn21r6F345qYgJr6QLrf0V6tkvRaoj3S0Lobb0PzBdd0p2RN68tp2LxjXTUfL4f6-6mJzsGFTXrkIpMt7Qo_q-N2o/s400/demonwarp+buddy.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><strong>HE'S HUNG WITH RICKY SCHROEDER AND SEEN JOYCE HYSER'S TITS. WHAT HAVE <em>YOU</em> DONE?</strong> </p><p>WELL, THE <em><strong>STORY</strong></em> BEHIND <em><strong>DEMONWARP</strong></em>, AND IT’S A <em><strong>DOOZY,</strong></em> STARTS IN THE 1800’S, WHEN A METEOR CRASHES NEXT TO A BABBLING PRIEST AND HIS HORSE. NEXT THING WE KNOW, GEORGE KENNEDY’S DAUGHTER’S BEING DRAGGED OUT OF THE HOUSE BY A SHAGGY BIGFOOT MONSTER, AND OL’ GEORGE GETS BEANED ON THE NOGGIN’ AND GOES A-SLEEPIN’ FOR A WHILE. NOW THAT’S A LEAP OF ONE HUNDRED FUCKIN’<strong><em> YEARS</em></strong> THERE IN A FEW SECONDS. ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DRAW A <strong><em>CONNECTION </em></strong>BETWEEN THE TWO EVENTS OR WHAT? IS THERE ENOUGH BEER IN THE FRIDGE TO GET MY BRAIN THROUGH THE <strong><em>REST</em></strong> OF THIS FILM?<br /><br />LUCKY FOR US, THERE’S A STRETCH RUN COMING UP OF NON-STOP GRATUITOUS NUDITY, FROM 20 MINUTES TO 25 MINUTES, AND WE EVEN GET A QUICK MUFF SHOT ("MUFF" IS A TERM WE USED TO USE WHEN GIRLS HAD PUBIC HAIR, FOR THOSE OF YOU BORN AFTER 1995.) WHEN BUDDY GRIFFITH GRABS A GIRL RUNNING OUT OF THE SHOWER. THAT’S A FAR CRY FROM RICKY SCHROEDER, MY FRIEND. ALL THIS BUDDING YOUNG PULCRITUDE KINDA MAKES YOU FORGET ABOUT THE <strong><em>STAR</em></strong> OF OUR SHOW, THE <strong><em>MONSTER</em></strong>, SO AT 28 MINUTES IN, HE CRASHES THE TOGA PARTY AND, PRETTY STUPIDLY I MIGHT ADD, KILLS THE ONLY STAR OF THE FILM, BUDDY FUCKING GRIFFITH! FOR THE FIRST TIME TOO, WE GET A GOOD LOOK AT THE RAMPAGING SPACE YETI – AND YEAH, HE KINDA LOOKS LIKE BIGFOOT. OR A DRUNKEN GARY BUSEY. <strong><em>NEITHER </em></strong>OF WHICH IS A GOOD LOOK, BY THE WAY. </p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpc090Uf-UZbCSBVbDA8HcuBorURog4aopE7joKDEnXL16mYbqHsZpp-IyKrazggbbaRckA92CDD1VKXyeaEankEWLYTU99Uw4HhXVhvmSB8vthWkUfNjcduRxDter45ky8f5C8JnNi_zE/s1600/demonwarp+vag.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471247937547530194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 247px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpc090Uf-UZbCSBVbDA8HcuBorURog4aopE7joKDEnXL16mYbqHsZpp-IyKrazggbbaRckA92CDD1VKXyeaEankEWLYTU99Uw4HhXVhvmSB8vthWkUfNjcduRxDter45ky8f5C8JnNi_zE/s400/demonwarp+vag.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, I'LL <em>PRETEND</em> I'M RICKY SCHROEDER! </strong><p>CUT TO MORE NUDITY (AND QUICK!), THANKS TO B-MOVIE QUEEN MICHELLE BAUER, WHO GOOD-NATUREDLY TAKES HER SHIRT OFF FOR <strong><em>NO </em></strong>REASON IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WOODS WHILE A SNICKERING GARY BUSEY MONKEY WATCHES FROM THE BUSHES. SHE AND HER GIRLFRIEND ENGAGE IN SOME SUNBATHING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FOREST – WHICH IS PRETTY SMART REALLY WHEN ONE OF YOUR BUDDIES JUST HAD HIS HEAD CRUSHED NOT EVEN TEN MINUTES EARLIER – AND NEEDLESS TO SAY, THE ABOMINABLE HORNDOG STOPS BY AND TWISTS THE HEAD OFF THE GIRL WHO <strong><em>ISN’T</em></strong> MICHELLE BAUER, WHILE MICHELLE RUNS FOR THE SAFETY OF HER JEEP. IN AN AMAZING MOMENT OF INSANITY, MICHELLE ACTUALLY RUNS <strong><em>PAST</em></strong> HER JEEP – MAYBE SHE REALIZED SHE CAN’T DRIVE WITHOUT HER BRA – AND CONTINUES INTO THE FOREST BEFORE WEEPING OPENLY THAT SHE’S LOST. OH YEAH, AND STILL TOPLESS TOO. OR MAYBE THAT’S ONE AND THE SAME. <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZ7R7jkA5lxXD2qQT-HUC5aG7VqOS41l_ANH8MysNf-cI4vZ11T2eMr3cVObxMfO9iU6wC_v83drst2gtiXlq0lUraSnKrxvKZiYg-Bx6LTTO65VnmivnTRTEIZxP1y1yiZrz-fxI7kut/s1600/DEMONWARP+BAUER.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471248470963513202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZ7R7jkA5lxXD2qQT-HUC5aG7VqOS41l_ANH8MysNf-cI4vZ11T2eMr3cVObxMfO9iU6wC_v83drst2gtiXlq0lUraSnKrxvKZiYg-Bx6LTTO65VnmivnTRTEIZxP1y1yiZrz-fxI7kut/s400/DEMONWARP+BAUER.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>WHY, NO, OF <em>COURSE</em> THEY'RE REAL. ISH. </strong><p>EVENTUALLY, OUR HERO JACK (WE FIND OUT HE'S THE HERO BECAUSE HE’S THE LAST KID ALIVE) CATCHES UP WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND CINDY, WHO’S KINDA WALKING FUNNILY THROUGH THE WOODS. WE KNOW <strong><em>SOMETHING’</em></strong>S UP BECAUSE SHE DOES ONE OF THOSE <strong><em>RE-A-A-A-L SL-O-O-OW</em></strong> TURNS TOWARD THE CAMERA, AND SHO’ NUFF WE FIND OUT BIGFOOT AND WILD BUSEY’S ALREADY <strong><em>GOTTEN </em></strong>TO HER, AND HER LEFT EYE IS NOW DANGLING FROM THE OPTIC NERVE AND GETTING BLOOD AND SHIT ALL OVER HER NICE NEW SHIRT. NEEDLESS TO SAY, JACK’S KINDA BUMMED BECAUSE THAT DANGLING EYEBALL THING ISN’T EXACTLY A TURN-ON, SO HE BACKS OFF WHILE CINDY GOES STUMBLING INTO A CAVE. JACK EVENTUALLY RECOVERS AND FOLLOWS HER IN, HOPING TO GET ONE LAST MERCY BOINK, ONLY INSTEAD HE FINDS THE BIGFOOT MONSTER AND <strong><em>SEEMS</em></strong> TO SHOOT IT DEAD. BUT AS IT DIES (AND BELIEVE ME, IT TAKES A WHILE), THE THING STARTS MORPHING BACK INTO A <strong><em>HUMAN</em></strong> – WITH SOME PRETTY COOL SPECIAL EFFECTS FOR THE TIME, I MIGHT ADD – AND THEN, AS THE KIDS SAY, THINGS <strong><em>REALLY</em></strong> START GETTING WEIRD. <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDgOqw-5FBwl_7wN5KqBJ9sx5tga9lR64BKHdV1wqgcQG0V73jCJ03RdpPP1rvfUhe2hgdXZ3utfEnFu_KIxyaQ8jFc_qhN6b_TC8RNDLwItDVCM1OA2aX8_BCbp4gdXHZWo2Oa1CPXBU/s1600/DEMONWARP+EYE+EYE.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471249048216802082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDgOqw-5FBwl_7wN5KqBJ9sx5tga9lR64BKHdV1wqgcQG0V73jCJ03RdpPP1rvfUhe2hgdXZ3utfEnFu_KIxyaQ8jFc_qhN6b_TC8RNDLwItDVCM1OA2aX8_BCbp4gdXHZWo2Oa1CPXBU/s400/DEMONWARP+EYE+EYE.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>WATCH OUT, BUDDY, I'VE GOT MY EYE ON YOU! </strong><p>IF YOU’VE GOT A BONG, IT MIGHT BE TIME TO FIRE IT UP RIGHT ABOUT HERE, BECAUSE THE LAST HALF HOUR OF <strong><em>DEMONWARP</em></strong>’S LIKE A COMPLETELY <strong><em>DIFFERENT</em></strong> MOVIE. IT'S LIKE THIS MOVIE'S A RED FERRARI, AND UP TO NOW GEORGE KENNEDY'S BEEN DRIVING IT TEN MILES BELOW THE SPEED LIMIT WITH THE LEFT BLINKER ON. AND <strong><em>NOW</em></strong> FINALLY SOMEONE’S PUSHED HIM OUT THE SIDE DOOR AND SHIFTED INTO FIFTH. HANG ON, IF YOU CAN…<br /><br />AFTER THE MORPHING YETI SCENE, JACK VENTURES FURTHER INTO THIS MYSTERIOUS CAVE, WHERE HE ENCOUNTERS A BUNCH OF DECAYING ZOMBIES IN THRIFT STORE HALLOWEEN MASKS AND A SPACESHIP. OR, RATHER, I SHOULD SAY THE <strong><em>FRONT</em></strong> OF WHAT <strong><em>APPEARS</em></strong> TO BE A SPACESHIP, BECAUSE THE BUDGET AIN’T SO BIG ON THIS ONE, AND THE ENTIRE CAVE SCENES FROM THIS POINT ON WERE PROBABLY FILMED USING LEFTOVER BACKDROPS FROM THE STAR TREK EPISODE WITH THE HORTA. OH YEAH, AND BUDDY GRIFFITH’S BACK, NOW HALF-DECAYED AND DOING A REALLY SHITTY JACK NICHOLSON IMPERSONATION. GOD DAMN, WHY AIN’T I EVEN GETTING A BUZZ YET? </p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPmv8Lcjf51siXs0JGdoHfx5Y2_t525pfsYjFP4S8dPcW5BvyhSf_AVrdxBNN5CSQGKXE1QmdHUy19J_jhhJv7ZUpsLTl04ILA3aKrHY5T2QhCz_BtQ5VnOTRFDKY4jxxF4v1H-sqKT9ot/s1600/DEMONWARP+BUDDYS+BUDDYS.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471249821128343938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPmv8Lcjf51siXs0JGdoHfx5Y2_t525pfsYjFP4S8dPcW5BvyhSf_AVrdxBNN5CSQGKXE1QmdHUy19J_jhhJv7ZUpsLTl04ILA3aKrHY5T2QhCz_BtQ5VnOTRFDKY4jxxF4v1H-sqKT9ot/s400/DEMONWARP+BUDDYS+BUDDYS.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>HEY, HOW'D HELENA BONHAM CARTER GET IN HERE? </strong><p>OKAY, SO, LIKE, THE ZOMBIES START ATTACKING JACK, BUT HE’S A GOOD SHOT, AND HE STARTS PICKIN’ ‘EM OFF ONE BY ONE, EVEN THOUGH THEY HISS JUST LIKE SLEESTAKS (WELL, THEY <strong><em>ARE</em></strong> IN A CAVE WITH A SHITTY STYROFOAM PYLON) AND ONE OF ‘EM IS EVEN WEARING A <strong><em>RESIDENTS T-SHIRT</em></strong>! PERSONALLY, ANY KID WHO PRETENDS TO LIKE THE RESIDENTS <strong><em>DESERVES</em></strong> TO BE A DECAYING ZOMBIE, IF YOU ASK ME. <p><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKILqN6H4JAext9rK76n6trA7QMmBMCbXC1lHcp-iOV-OSEWjK0pBA2ChIqWnGLsyheMuMRUvU4ZYhDaxzGodGlLAYgfv9h9JmYeCuat8LAFJIGA0g4ze0WqYuvun9EEnsyAHQffWixNiT/s1600/DEMONWARP+RESIDENTS.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471250563421094722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 227px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKILqN6H4JAext9rK76n6trA7QMmBMCbXC1lHcp-iOV-OSEWjK0pBA2ChIqWnGLsyheMuMRUvU4ZYhDaxzGodGlLAYgfv9h9JmYeCuat8LAFJIGA0g4ze0WqYuvun9EEnsyAHQffWixNiT/s400/DEMONWARP+RESIDENTS.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><strong>OH SO <em>THAT'S</em> WHO'S BUYING RESIDENTS ALBUMS!</strong> </p><p>MEANWHILE, INSIDE THE SPACECRAFT, THERE’S AN ICKY DRIPPY SPACE DEMON OVERLORD WHO’S WATCHING HIS ZOMBIE FLUNKIES BRING IN A (STILL) TOPLESS MICHELLE BAUER TO BE BOUND AND SACRIFICED ON THE ALTAR BY…ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?...THE <strong><em>19TH CENTURY PRIEST</em></strong> FROM THE <strong><em>FIRST FIVE MINUTES</em></strong> OF THE FILM! AHH, SO <strong><em>THAT’S </em></strong>WHERE HE’S BEEN! THEY BIND HER ON THE TABLE – NOW THIS FILM IS <strong><em>REALLY</em></strong> GETTING GOOD! – AND SOMEHOW THE CREEPY PRIEST MANAGES TO STAB THROUGH ALL THAT SILICONE TO GET TO HER HEART. QUITE AMAZINGLY, EVEN AFTER THE PRIEST REMOVES HER HEART FROM HER CHEST AND HOLDS IT UP FOR THE DEMON SPACE BUG, MICHELLE <strong><em>STILL</em></strong> MANAGES TO <strong><em>MOVE HER HEAD!</em></strong> NOW <strong><em>THAT'S</em></strong> TALENT! COULD <strong><em>BRINKE STEVENS</em></strong> DO THAT? <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixhPSyWNA5l-QS90KeSztEa-uJcmdat6TVU7Id9HsG2J5zgL_kHzT_DDC3oaCv0mEauj1xydwYzrj3JIJnQCknFvQfgODiGPDpbOR6KAPtLjCtxtSPRYty38KTYQun5xzQ80L6tuo_MmY1/s1600/DEMONWARP+SACRIFICE+BAUER.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471251137096139602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixhPSyWNA5l-QS90KeSztEa-uJcmdat6TVU7Id9HsG2J5zgL_kHzT_DDC3oaCv0mEauj1xydwYzrj3JIJnQCknFvQfgODiGPDpbOR6KAPtLjCtxtSPRYty38KTYQun5xzQ80L6tuo_MmY1/s400/DEMONWARP+SACRIFICE+BAUER.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>OH GOD NO, NOT THE RESTRICTIVE CLOTHING! ANYTHING BUT <em>THAT!</em> </strong><p>SO OKAY, THE DRIPPY DEMON LORD EATS HER HEART, WHICH IS NOT WHERE <strong><em>I </em></strong>WOULD’VE STARTED BUT HEY. ODDLY, THE PRIEST KEEPS MUMBLING “THERE IS MORE…THERE IS <strong><em>MORE</em></strong>” SO I’M GUESSING THE HEART WAS JUST AN APPETIZER. BUT INSTEAD, THEY BRING IN <strong><em>ANOTHER</em></strong> TOPLESS BABE AND BIND <strong><em>HER</em></strong> TO THE TABLE TOO! THIS IS THE <strong><em>BEST</em></strong> ALIEN RACE IN THE FUCKING UNIVERSE, MAN! TOO BAD JACK BREAKS UP THE PARTY THIS TIME (SOMEWHERE MICHELLE BAUER IS HEARD MUTTERING “THANKS FOR YOUR TIMING, ASSHOLE!”), SHOOTS OVERLORD POST-NASAL DRIP IN HIS CHAIR (HE CAN’T SEEM TO GET OUT OF IT FOR SOME REASON – HOW DID THIS DUMB FUCK GET TO BE A SPACE CAPTAIN?), BUT NOT BEFORE CAPTAIN DRIPPY HAS ALREADY STABBED HIS BEST FRIEND FRED AND INJECTED HIM WITH SOME URINE-COLORED SPACE PISS! ONCE AGAIN, YOU GOTTA WORK ON THAT TIMING THERE, JACK! HOW IS FRED GONNA EXPLAIN <strong><em>THAT</em></strong> TO THE PRODUCERS OF <strong><em>DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES</em></strong>? <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvjm52lEHb10IQsMoFXXJaI87kKFEsYW508e0Y8kFDvk1csjX3F6eivK0XiMAan57AYBMZaAm2CmYcTQjSAoKKO1Gh42dGgZBH5yEn08I0O50J-sspUHLWs6EkzY09H3p6mhGbe9VzdyY/s1600/DEMONWARP+SACRIFICE+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471251626263794578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvjm52lEHb10IQsMoFXXJaI87kKFEsYW508e0Y8kFDvk1csjX3F6eivK0XiMAan57AYBMZaAm2CmYcTQjSAoKKO1Gh42dGgZBH5yEn08I0O50J-sspUHLWs6EkzY09H3p6mhGbe9VzdyY/s400/DEMONWARP+SACRIFICE+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>HIGHLIGHT FROM THE STAR TREK OUTTAKES REEL</strong> <p>WELL NOW, IT SEEMS LIKE JACK MIGHT’VE SAVED THE DAY, BUT FRED’S ALREADY TURNING INTO A GARY BUSEY STUNT DOUBLE, AND DESPITE JACK’S INSISTENCE THAT HE LEAVE, FRED KNOWS THE ONLY THING HE CAN DO NOW IS STAY BEHIND AND SACRIFICE HIMSELF BY IGNITING THE CONVENIENT BUNDLE OF DYNAMITE HE’S GOT STRAPPED AROUND HIS WAIST. “THIS IS FOR JOYCE HYSER’S TITS!” HE’S HEARD SCREAMING AS THE ENTIRE CAVE AND THE ZOMBIES AND THE MUCUS-FILLED ALIEN OVERLORD GO UP IN A BIG, FIERY, POORLY-ADDED-IN-POST-PRODUCTION EXPLOSION. THE WORLD IS SAVED, JACK’S GOT AT LEAST ONE GIRL LEFT TO BOINK, AND WHAT THE FUCK, DID GEORGE KENNEDY DECIDE TO TAKE THE REST OF THIS MOVIE OFF? “FUCK THIS SHIT,” HE CAN BE HEARD SAYING OVER THE CLOSING CREDITS, “<strong><em>NAKED GUN</em></strong> CAN’T BE MORE THAN A FEW YEARS AWAY, RIGHT?” <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqwfcZ0QAZtI70QLiYOAxKil3m78JgA-JSEkYIgwgR2TzQwko3B7_vDksfXx9Qk_hT4QXHxigvwbBpsi1hpByoyjOKivwFV8EcurN6pxykkg22iJSF3vjWJHBhk3RiiwNWufYY8U5-Nw4l/s1600/demonwarp+alien.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471252106940098306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 231px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqwfcZ0QAZtI70QLiYOAxKil3m78JgA-JSEkYIgwgR2TzQwko3B7_vDksfXx9Qk_hT4QXHxigvwbBpsi1hpByoyjOKivwFV8EcurN6pxykkg22iJSF3vjWJHBhk3RiiwNWufYY8U5-Nw4l/s400/demonwarp+alien.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>FUCK YOU, GWAR! I'LL SEE YOU IN COURT! </strong><p>OKAY, SO WHAT <strong><em>STARTED OUT</em></strong> LOOKING LIKE ONE OF THE WORST HACK JOBS IN BIGFOOT CINEMA HISTORY TURNED OUT TO BE THE WACKIEST HALF HOUR I’VE SEEN ON VIDEOTAPE IN THE LAST YEAR – A GLORIOUS MIX OF <strong><em>BREEDERS</em></strong>, <strong><em>MUTANT </em></strong>AND <strong><em>FORBIDDEN PLANET</em></strong> ON BROWN ACID, AND <strong><em>THAT</em></strong> KINDA MADE MY DAY. THE CHICKS WEREN’T THE <strong><em>BEST</em></strong> LOOKING ON THE PLANET, BUT THEY GAVE UP THEIR TOPS AND THEIR EYEBALLS FOR NEXT TO NOTHING, AND WE NOW HAVE PROOF THAT MICHELLE BAUER, LIKE ANY MEMBER OF THE CHEYNEY FAMILY, CAN STILL FUNCTION WITHOUT HER HEART. AHH, BUT TAKE AWAY THOSE SILICON PUPPIES AND SHE’D BE DEADER THAN A DOORNAIL IN A SECOND. 4 OUT OF 5 KARIS. AND THE FASTEST THIRTY MINUTES IN CINEMA HISTORY. <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3PAJqmY0vc7uSQ5l857YLiiL3uWgghjFLIAMhmihAyn0S7N0BkbzQ4JrSKY2UM2B0xU-XWlFRTp8fYzk_QyZT8rx9Y4mBr7TZfGBlA7MmaY8ZvgSUHhofOoFglvGWdpBLn6Kc68zu0PvD/s1600/kari+4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471252741567789570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 347px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3PAJqmY0vc7uSQ5l857YLiiL3uWgghjFLIAMhmihAyn0S7N0BkbzQ4JrSKY2UM2B0xU-XWlFRTp8fYzk_QyZT8rx9Y4mBr7TZfGBlA7MmaY8ZvgSUHhofOoFglvGWdpBLn6Kc68zu0PvD/s400/kari+4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p><strong>FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS:<br /></strong><br /><strong>20 MINUTES</strong> – SEX AND…<br /><strong>24 MINUTES</strong> - …A SHOWER, AND NOT EVEN THE SAME GIRL!<br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju3uvw5XC5yG_hKwj2Cs5rtr10wgA7Zg4yjMAnCoR_Xjd4izQRvTB9o7lt-ePGaUdVjTgpCSEjwn7RSShEhMXMRryLbWf8QNX0prlm1X6Gd_bgID6gyeB7yvmr_gSaGZz4wugF4xu9o5Xp/s1600/demonwarp+sex.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471253237200318930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju3uvw5XC5yG_hKwj2Cs5rtr10wgA7Zg4yjMAnCoR_Xjd4izQRvTB9o7lt-ePGaUdVjTgpCSEjwn7RSShEhMXMRryLbWf8QNX0prlm1X6Gd_bgID6gyeB7yvmr_gSaGZz4wugF4xu9o5Xp/s400/demonwarp+sex.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>I SAID MMMMPPHHH I'M BEST FRIENDS MMMPPGGGLLPHHH WITH RICKY MMGGPPFF SCHROEDER... </strong><p><strong>28 MINUTES</strong> – OUR <strong><em>FIRST </em></strong>SIGHT OF THE MONSTER, AND IT’S A WINNER! JAKE, DADDY’S GOTTA GO OUT TONIGHT…<br /><br /><strong>41 MINUTES</strong> – MICHELLE BAUER THINKS IT’S TOO HOT WITH A SHIRT.<br /><br /><strong>43 MINUTES</strong> - …AND IT’S THE GIRL WITH THE SHIRT <strong><em>ON</em></strong> THAT GETS KILLED. WHAT KIND OF MESSAGE <strong><em>ARE</em></strong> WE SENDING OUR KIDS HERE?<br /><br /><strong>52 MINUTES</strong> – CHECK OUT GEORGE KENNEDY’S STATE-OF-THE-ART 1988 CALCU-WATCH! I BET HE GOES HOME AND PLAYS ASTEROIDS IN COLOR ON HIS COMMODORE 64 TOO!<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMmlIl2IcO3BO6YZtRUuAx7rBzQPGgqd_sQt9Qbq3N1oiD59amdX8YwEz8OTbzCEi91Yj1yjX__kjsI7RImZ9ZQWEr75sd-PqZMOsZUiWjATXqGW7xFxgqqlSY1XpueZh9Gl9e-qpbIkbO/s1600/DEMONWARP+WACH.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471253609579224498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMmlIl2IcO3BO6YZtRUuAx7rBzQPGgqd_sQt9Qbq3N1oiD59amdX8YwEz8OTbzCEi91Yj1yjX__kjsI7RImZ9ZQWEr75sd-PqZMOsZUiWjATXqGW7xFxgqqlSY1XpueZh9Gl9e-qpbIkbO/s400/DEMONWARP+WACH.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>AND I'VE GOT TECMO BOWL TOO! </strong><p><strong>53 MINUTES</strong> – GARY BUSEY MONKEY SNAGS ANOTHER VICTIM IN WHAT IS ACTUALLY A VERY <strong><em>BRUTAL</em></strong> DEATH BY BEAR TRAP AND POINTY STICK. <strong><em>OUCH!</em></strong> THE ONLY THING MORE PAINFUL THAN THIS WOULD BE WATCHING “THE GINGERDEAD MAN”.<br /><br /><strong>1:06</strong> – HEY CINDY, WHY THE LONG EYEBAL…I MEAN, FACE?<br /><br /><strong>1:19</strong> – MICHELLE BAUER’S TOPLESS BONDAGE SACRIFICE SCENE. I HEAR SHE DIES IN THIS SCENE, BUT I DIDN’T MAKE IT THAT FAR…<br /><br /><strong>1:23</strong> – <strong><em>ANOTHER</em></strong> TOPLESS BONDAGE SACRIFICE BABE! IS THIS THE HORNIEST ALIEN SUPER-RACE IN THE UNIVERSE?<br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3B7Xd6rUZ6iRcU3adAKEBofGomgCyO4bgcO6Jeq4llrabd-8V4Y7Eys6uvy8bSxPgJ6xGA5CKTMoWA-zrbHHlseMHUWD7iqeurK1sVgS4DFTLFnEk6PkCVc97U2HLNjdWTYWMPEjJlFEH/s1600/demonwarp+monster.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471253921563593170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3B7Xd6rUZ6iRcU3adAKEBofGomgCyO4bgcO6Jeq4llrabd-8V4Y7Eys6uvy8bSxPgJ6xGA5CKTMoWA-zrbHHlseMHUWD7iqeurK1sVgS4DFTLFnEk6PkCVc97U2HLNjdWTYWMPEjJlFEH/s400/demonwarp+monster.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>EVERY GIRL'S CRAZY 'BOUT A SHARP-DRESSED MAN.<br /></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-11325920415516919272010-05-13T18:54:00.000-07:002010-05-13T18:59:28.526-07:00TRAVEL SIZE REVIEW: BILL HICKS LIVE (2004)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCp46hL19tSXPUKcdlsSsBOgnqFXTa8JFfDEs3lg9POLhDDUELoL9nZs4oHVbViCGSeubvicyG1_V6aBmJ9lvRjmgu9Vr4gOA7JOMNG3KqyC7MHLPA_3AwqFm3oTrCzoH3UaMwyVH-_ixj/s1600/BILL+HICKS+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470939431727313986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCp46hL19tSXPUKcdlsSsBOgnqFXTa8JFfDEs3lg9POLhDDUELoL9nZs4oHVbViCGSeubvicyG1_V6aBmJ9lvRjmgu9Vr4gOA7JOMNG3KqyC7MHLPA_3AwqFm3oTrCzoH3UaMwyVH-_ixj/s400/BILL+HICKS+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I don't<strong><em> idolize</em></strong> Bill Hicks, but I do find him interesting. Anyone dying at 31 is a tragedy, really, and if Bill lived on, I'm sure by the content on these 3 live shows he'd be merely adding to his fairly consistent repertoire and not changing the world. Although he would've rid it of Denis Leary, and we can only hope Bill would've never starred in crappy comedies with Kevin Spacey. Don't get me wrong, I found Bill's comedy routines very funny and his don't-give-a-shit persona fascinating, but here's some food for thought for all those who thought he revolutionized comedy: Bill Hicks was supposedly angry with Dennis Leary for what he felt was a theft of his act. But in watching Bill, I see an awful lot of <strong><em>Sam Kinison</em></strong>, another renegade comedian/drug abuser who died way <strong><em>way</em></strong> too young (and around the same time too if I'm not mistaken). So just a thought - Bill Hicks was a <strong><em>great</em></strong> stand-up comedian, but neither his act nor his demeanor were entirely <strong><em>new.</em></strong> And if you want visual proof of what cancer can do to a man, on his final Letterman appearance, he turned into Martin Mull.</div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-17180840539216405842010-05-05T17:19:00.000-07:002010-05-05T17:23:47.471-07:00TRAVEL SIZE REVIEW: CHARLIE VARRICK (1973)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja25vCBtW2BJWEDmzLPMT4RkUkBD0cRD9AY3BuEierwPmfn949IWwcBybqMJU7eytnOiBskodczmcd-ax5rqfzTc48RVzYY8rAiz3DRek2sDYEQeGAGGCrhELazzer9YrwmfRAO7pdEzM4/s1600/CHARLIE+VARRICK.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467945451068161794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja25vCBtW2BJWEDmzLPMT4RkUkBD0cRD9AY3BuEierwPmfn949IWwcBybqMJU7eytnOiBskodczmcd-ax5rqfzTc48RVzYY8rAiz3DRek2sDYEQeGAGGCrhELazzer9YrwmfRAO7pdEzM4/s400/CHARLIE+VARRICK.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>DOES WALTER <em>REALLY</em> NEED MAKEUP TO MAKE HIM LOOK OLDER? <p></strong></p>Tarantino's dad directed. Walter Matthau was excellent, and he and Jack Lemmon did nothing but gripe throughout. Sheree North is always hot. And Norman Fell plays a tough guy, and does a great job until his wife appears at a crime scene and starts yelling "STAN-LEE! I'M <em><strong>HORNY</strong></em>!" Then Chrissy Snow pulls up in a '69 Camaro and guns <em><strong>everyone</strong></em> down. Oh, did I spoil the plot? My bad.<br /></div>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1021209189262616405.post-37574600405710405542010-04-29T14:34:00.000-07:002010-04-29T15:27:52.419-07:00DEADLY DREAMS (1988)WELL NOW, A TITLE LIKE <strong><em>THAT</em></strong> JUST <strong><em>BEGS</em></strong> TO BE TAMPERED WITH, AND IF YOU’RE NOT A FAN OF THIS NOT-YET-NOR-EVER-<em><strong>WILL</strong></em>-BE-ON-DVD HORROR FILM, IT WON’T TAKE MUCH SKILL TO REPLACE “DREAMS” WITH “DULL” AND CALL YOURSELF CLEVER. JUST LIKE MOVIEOVERLORD73 ON IMDB DID. BUT, WHILE <em><strong>DEADLY DREAMS </strong></em>DOESN’T EXACTLY MOVE AT <em><strong>LIGHTNING</strong></em> SPEED, IT’S GOT ENOUGH TWISTS AND TURNS AND FREAKY DREAM SCENES TO KEEP YOU INTERESTED UNTIL THE FULL-ON TWILIGHT ZONE TWIST ENDING COMES. AND THE KILLER WEARS A WOLF MASK. OR MAYBE IT’S AN OPOSSUM. OR MAYBE IT’S FOX MULDER…<br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGzfijX1CG9CX6bbRPVAreweg4MuaJR0BfzJkl1MVdP0ONnEkxSMJedeikwhCOTzBLEoq6Vayh-qrrzLL3D9MeN9kDW0igOM5rC8fGZIIYnj-A9J26neEn8EYmun1-uronDMi5WbxszDJ/s1600/deadly+wolfie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465677122877814258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGzfijX1CG9CX6bbRPVAreweg4MuaJR0BfzJkl1MVdP0ONnEkxSMJedeikwhCOTzBLEoq6Vayh-qrrzLL3D9MeN9kDW0igOM5rC8fGZIIYnj-A9J26neEn8EYmun1-uronDMi5WbxszDJ/s400/deadly+wolfie.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>GREAT. THE FIRST HORROR MOVIE VILLAIN WHO LICKS HIS OWN ASSHOLE. </strong><p>OUR HEART-WARMING STORY BEGINS WITH THE MURDER OF ALEX’S PARENTS, WHEN WOLFPOSSUM HUFFS AND PUFFS AND BLOWS DOWN THE FRONT DOOR OF THEIR POSH LITTLE SUBURBAN MANSION WITH A .22 CALIBER RIFLE ON CHRISTMAS EVE. WOLFIE THEN CHASES LITTLE ALEX (WHO’S ONLY TEN AT THIS POINT) THROUGH THE FOREST, AND JUST WHEN HE’S ABOUT TO CATCH HIM…<em><strong>BAM!</strong></em> THE NOW 25-YEAR-OLD ALEX WAKES UP FROM A BAD DREAM. GET USED TO THIS. YOU’LL SEE IT APPROXIMATELY 20 OR 30 TIMES MORE BEFORE THESE 79 MINUTES ARE UP. <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYjnuRRSJCSn5FU_v4bJwisIaWrLw2nbiN6_WLHeqzfmDn-Xx3OCQDElUoGMMRDqVNeS12psZqUcrFftkWGHoookct5XrKR9vizF0OfmvbVYKg_cpytg-X52prZhaMHbn3GSZgLMM9uUrv/s1600/deadly+chubby.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465677732410317714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYjnuRRSJCSn5FU_v4bJwisIaWrLw2nbiN6_WLHeqzfmDn-Xx3OCQDElUoGMMRDqVNeS12psZqUcrFftkWGHoookct5XrKR9vizF0OfmvbVYKg_cpytg-X52prZhaMHbn3GSZgLMM9uUrv/s400/deadly+chubby.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHY GETTING STRANGLED BY A WOLFMAN WOULD GIVE YOU A CHUBBY? </strong><p>ACTUALLY, FUCK THAT, YOU’LL SEE IT OFTEN ENOUGH JUST IN THE NEXT <em><strong>10 MINUTES, </strong></em>AS WOLFMAN JACKOFF KILLS PRETTY MUCH <em><strong>EVERY</strong></em> FRIEND POOR ALEX HANGS WITH. OF COURSE, THEY’RE JUST NIGHTMARE VISIONS REALLY. OR <em><strong>ARE</strong></em> THEY? BUT WHEN OUR SILVER-TONGUED CASANOVA BANGS A HOT LIMBER FLASHDANCER NAMED MAGGIE THE FIRST NIGHT HE MEETS HER, OLD WOLFIE BOY LEAVES <em><strong>HER</strong></em> ALONE. THANK GOD TOO, BECAUSE IT GIVES US OUR FIRST NUDE SCENE OF THE FILM. TRY NOT TO LAUGH WHEN THE ENTIRE BED SPINS AROUND LIKE IT’S SOME BAD TRYST FROM <em><strong>RED SHOE DIARIES </strong></em>RUNNING AT 2 AM ON SKINEMAX. BUT IT’S OKAY TO LAUGH WHEN ALEX THROWS A SHIRT OVER A DEER HEAD MID-COITUS. ‘CUZ, Y’KNOW, HE’S SPOOKED BY ANIMAL HEADS, HEH HEH. OH, AND WAY TO CONCENTRATE ON <em><strong>HER</strong></em> NEEDS, DUDE. <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhix3iZgpQyrpvxeVKj35JTfvQY5njmyDFj0GKMMhyphenhyphenQdcE4UcF33Crr8gy4ch77DSEp1HSydTlR9fKN25XsHAmf96vxQkvWKZcn0c7vtr30zDwLB1CdmKFUD12qwzS1j-8a_WS9RETGMEp-/s1600/deadly+hottie2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465678451467022898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhix3iZgpQyrpvxeVKj35JTfvQY5njmyDFj0GKMMhyphenhyphenQdcE4UcF33Crr8gy4ch77DSEp1HSydTlR9fKN25XsHAmf96vxQkvWKZcn0c7vtr30zDwLB1CdmKFUD12qwzS1j-8a_WS9RETGMEp-/s400/deadly+hottie2.jpg" border="0" /></a> <p align="center"><strong>THIS IS THE ONLY HOTTIE IN THE FILM. FROM NOW ON, PHOTOS WILL CONCENTRATE ON <em>HER. </em></strong><p>AS ALEX’S BIGFOOT AND WILDBOY NIGHTMARES MOUNT, HE FINALLY TELLS HIS OLDER BROTHER JACK, WHO EXPRESSES SYMPATHY BY PUTTING HIM IN A HEADLOCK, THEN HE TELLS HIS BEST BUDDY DANNY, WHO POINTS A LOADED SNIPER RIFLE AT THIS HEAD. IT DOESN’T HELP THAT DANNY’S GOT A SHELF FULL OF STUFFED PENGUINS IN HIS BEDROOM AND…HEY, WHAT’S <em><strong>THAT</strong></em>? A WOLF/FOX/POSSUM MASK UNDER HIS HAMPER OF SOILED UNDIES? NOW HOW’D <em><strong>THAT</strong></em> GET THERE? <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipt0dP2HiBzfnjwrCZCH0Qua-YLxGxXbNL_eG1r-ZSpDRHPI2ChIYqtNH8mKPH_y8RLOX1RAimBocpyr3wAePNkPthRIVd7punMBtCY5x_7sfiW7PCFnYOZXOJCfkLllTXOskyBGy19fFe/s1600/deadly+target.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465683765438553954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 236px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipt0dP2HiBzfnjwrCZCH0Qua-YLxGxXbNL_eG1r-ZSpDRHPI2ChIYqtNH8mKPH_y8RLOX1RAimBocpyr3wAePNkPthRIVd7punMBtCY5x_7sfiW7PCFnYOZXOJCfkLllTXOskyBGy19fFe/s400/deadly+target.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>HEY, I'D SHOOT SOMEONE WITH HAIR LIKE THAT TOO.</strong> <p>WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? WE NEVER <em><strong>DO </strong></em>FIND OUT. AS A MATTER OF FACT, YOU’LL FIND MORE ANSWERS IN AN EPISODE OF “LOST” THAN IN <em><strong>DEADLY DREAMS</strong></em>. HERE, REALITY AND DREAMS HUMP EACH OTHER LIKE THE CAST OF “REAL WORLD” ON ECSTASY. ANY TIME SOMETHING INTERESTING HAPPENS ON SCREEN, YOU’RE JUST WAITING FOR SOME FUCKER TO WAKE UP. BESIDES, NONE OF THESE KIDS IS VERY SYMPATHETIC ANYWAY – ALEX LOOKS LIKE A SIMPERING BRAT WITH THAT FLAPPY 80’S HAIR, AND HIS BROTHER JACK’S AN OUTRIGHT <em><strong>DICK</strong></em>. WHICH IS KINDA WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU SUDDENLY INHERIT YOUR PARENTS’ MONEY AND BUSINESS AFTER THEY’RE SHOT TO DEATH ON CHRISTMAS EVE BY AN EVIL POSSUM RAT. EXAMPLE: WHEN ALEX INTRODUCES HIS NEW ROOM-SPINNING, DEERHUNTING PIECE OF MICHAEL SEMBELLO ASS MAGGIE TO HIS BROTHER JACK, JACK RESPONDS BY ASKING HER IF SHE’S EVER WORKED WITH “SAM WEINBERG” IN NEW YORK. WHEN SHE ANSWERS YES, HE SNORTS AND SAYS “THERE IS NO SAM WEINBERG” AND CALLS HER A GOLD DIGGER. NOW, I’M NO OFF-BROADWAY EXPERT, AND I HAVEN’T BEEN TO A MUSICAL IN NEW YORK SINCE THE DAYS OF “YOUR ARMS TOO SHORT TO BOX WITH GOD,” BUT I GOTTA TELL YOU – IF THERE AIN’T AT LEAST <em><strong>ONE</strong></em> GUY WORKING IN NEW YORK THEATRE BY THE NAME OF SAM WEINBERG, I’D BE PRETTY FUCKING SHOCKED. <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv0f0gUnFBlOJKvU0hPthH7rdit84C94qYjFBerHXxpRKXHRXHPhGR9tsY8m9lAnmSycOwOSJe6_L1cZ5-Dox3vWu0FmsLG6xvk8JNvXkuyhWQCeyqqAKuZBUFSh5p0QaVekDENggrzUWG/s1600/deadly+room+spin.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465684740286103938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 211px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv0f0gUnFBlOJKvU0hPthH7rdit84C94qYjFBerHXxpRKXHRXHPhGR9tsY8m9lAnmSycOwOSJe6_L1cZ5-Dox3vWu0FmsLG6xvk8JNvXkuyhWQCeyqqAKuZBUFSh5p0QaVekDENggrzUWG/s400/deadly+room+spin.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>BABY, YOU'RE SO HOT THE ROOM IS SPINNING! OH, IT REALLY <em>IS</em> SPINNING? </strong><p>WELL, THE RED HERRINGS AND WOLF FANTASIES CONTINUE, AS ALEX FINDS A DEAD DEER IN HIS BATHTUB WITH HIS NAME SCRAWLED IN BLOOD ABOVE IT. LATER, WHEN HE GETS THE SHERIFF TO INVESTIGATE, ALL THE BLOOD AND DEER PARTS ARE, STRANGELY ENOUGH, GONE. DON’T LOOK FOR ANY ANSWERS TO THAT LITTLE POSER EITHER. THE SHERIFF, MEANWHILE, IS AS FED UP AS THE REST OF US, AND CHASTISES THE RICH YOUNG HEIRS WITH WHAT MIGHT BE THE BEST LINE OF THE MOVIE: “I’VE HAD IT UP TO <em><strong>HERE</strong></em> WITH YOU GODDAMN COLLEGE KIDS AND YOUR GODDAMN DRUGS AND YOUR GODDAMN <em><strong>BULLSHIT!</strong></em> (LONG PAUSE) <em><strong>GOOD NIGHT</strong></em>!” YEP, HE’S SPEAKING FOR ALL OF US. <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZiYChC9y5qiQP2vxz3HvRqnAK-wAQdAZZds5OqZyMUJsGYIXNcEZCN1UZaTSWCQue1Os7l-qizN0uXjU22yrzQGLQTtOL-vaEbDPbjXbD7v2aKV4p4gzez5a47t_Gy0qCmljxkenU4T-F/s1600/deadly+sheriff.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465685289951254642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZiYChC9y5qiQP2vxz3HvRqnAK-wAQdAZZds5OqZyMUJsGYIXNcEZCN1UZaTSWCQue1Os7l-qizN0uXjU22yrzQGLQTtOL-vaEbDPbjXbD7v2aKV4p4gzez5a47t_Gy0qCmljxkenU4T-F/s400/deadly+sheriff.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>CROTCHETY SHERIFF PLAYED BY ELMER CANDY, JOHN'S LESS FAMOUS LITTLE BROTHER. </strong><p>DRUGS AND BULLSHIT INDEED. HOW <em><strong>ELSE</strong></em> CAN YOU EXPLAIN A SCENE WHERE ALEX MYSTERIOUSLY RUNS INTO HIS FRIEND DANNY IN A GRAVEYARD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, DRESSED IN CAMOUFLAGE AND HOLDING THAT FAVORITE RIFLE OF HIS. DANNY’S EXPLANATION? “I’VE BEEN OUT HUNTING ALL DAY.” YEAH, BUT IT’S <em><strong>NIGHT</strong></em>. AND YOU’RE IN A <em><strong>GRAVEYARD</strong></em>. ALEX, THOUGH, HE SEEMS OKAY WITH THIS ALIBI. ME, I SAY “GODDAMN COLLEGE KIDS AND THEIR GODDAMN DRUGS AND GODDAMN BULLSHIT! GOOD NIGHT SIR!” <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCU1eSKmz3v66PGIfqWRa6c9wMf_bR2W4BAWgDoLxR5kEVWQacqzUFdr2aA7T7OfSVq8YOhc9G88yhLeifgqpgRSVIQDWyAt6vegc6Cizh6I8t6W7vKwiLMnkiu5KbTeIQ5X-aEzYfTyU/s1600/deadly+sex.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465685993465421314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCU1eSKmz3v66PGIfqWRa6c9wMf_bR2W4BAWgDoLxR5kEVWQacqzUFdr2aA7T7OfSVq8YOhc9G88yhLeifgqpgRSVIQDWyAt6vegc6Cizh6I8t6W7vKwiLMnkiu5KbTeIQ5X-aEzYfTyU/s400/deadly+sex.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>YEP. ROOM STILL SPINNING. </strong><p>SEE, THE WHOLE THING KINDA PLAYS OUT LIKE THAT “HARPER’S ISLAND” TV MINI-SERIES. THE ORIGINAL MAN IN THE WOLF MASK – THE ONE THAT SHOT ALEX’S PARENTS WHEN HE WAS TEN – TURNS OUT THAT WAS A GUY NAMED NORMAN PERKINS (HMM…WONDER WHERE THEY GOT <em><strong>THAT</strong></em> NAME FROM? WAS IT TOO LATE TO ADD A DEPUTY NAMED ANTHONY BATES?). NORMAN SUPPOSEDLY KILLED HIMSELF AFTER THE HOMICIDE…OR <em><strong>DID</strong></em> HE? AND JUST LIKE WE DID FOR JOHN WAKEFIELD, WE’RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE DOUBTS ABOUT THIS FOR 79 MINUTES. WHICH, THANKFULLY, IS A LOT LESS THAN 14 EPISODES SPREAD OUT OVER 4 MONTHS ON A SHITTY TV NETWORK WITH A PAYOFF THAT SUCKS BALLS. YEAH, “HARPER’S ISLAND” TOOK A LOT OF VALUABLE TIME OUT OF MY LIFE, AND I’M STILL GETTING OVER THAT. <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8_zZQYD0m5vsxKTc-nX-Qo6mg81VkA4t3SkrkAImzMVV2C1B1cfrQ8oAIs2zAz17vgIm4uNNNqpJzbPIPuAkOpTpu4Y2mXfIgqKH0o41JTGv8T_dovgwEdpR2BvkqYkkcmekGy3hj7dI/s1600/deadly+yep+a+redhead.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465686677792488626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8_zZQYD0m5vsxKTc-nX-Qo6mg81VkA4t3SkrkAImzMVV2C1B1cfrQ8oAIs2zAz17vgIm4uNNNqpJzbPIPuAkOpTpu4Y2mXfIgqKH0o41JTGv8T_dovgwEdpR2BvkqYkkcmekGy3hj7dI/s400/deadly+yep+a+redhead.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>YEP. SHE'S A REDHEAD.</strong> <p>WELL, WITH BAGGAGE LIKE THAT, HOW CAN I RECOMMEND <em><strong>DEADLY DREAMS</strong></em>? WELL, FOR ONE, IT’S GOT WOLFBOY. AND IT’S GOT THAT WHOLE DREAM/REALITY THING THAT STARTS OUT ANNOYING AND THEN JUST GETS <em><strong>FUNNY</strong></em>. AND IT’S GOT A PISSED OFF SCOTT SALEM FUCK-EVERYBODY CROTCHETY SHERIFF WHO SAYS EXACTLY WHAT I’M THINKING. AND IT’S GOT JULIETTE CUMMINS AS MAGGIE, WHO MAKES THE ROOM SPIN AROUND THE <em><strong>FIRST </strong></em>TIME SHE BANGS, AND DOES IT <em><strong>DOGGIE STYLE </strong></em>THE SECOND TIME! OR, SHOULD I SAY, <em><strong>WOLFIE </strong></em>STYLE? OOPS, DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD? <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFP1I0b2HBf8dzV9NCbpZqJB5g1y5i3bUlF1swpIVbQdZWRE4BNn-lUC3EepyTOOtAzEZ1dF_6k5jLMFzyMCbxX2uKwF2bEx_JYKq1zz6ToZFTwMBPmm7sVjG53rKf1ciC-mSQLc8aE27v/s1600/deadly+one+for+ladies.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465688920147113970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFP1I0b2HBf8dzV9NCbpZqJB5g1y5i3bUlF1swpIVbQdZWRE4BNn-lUC3EepyTOOtAzEZ1dF_6k5jLMFzyMCbxX2uKwF2bEx_JYKq1zz6ToZFTwMBPmm7sVjG53rKf1ciC-mSQLc8aE27v/s400/deadly+one+for+ladies.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>AND ONE FOR THE LADIES... </strong><p><br />YES, THERE’S A TWIST ENDING, AND YOU MIGHT’VE SEEN IT COMING IF YOU WATCHED “HARPER’S ISLAND” AND GOD HELP YOU IF YOU DID. ACTUALLY, THE MORE I THINK ABOUT IT, I BET THE CREATORS OF “HARPER’S ISLAND” STOLE THE WHOLE CONCEPT OF <em><strong>DEADLY DREAMS</strong></em>, PROBABLY KNOWING THAT THE FUCKER WOULD NEVER BE OUT ON DVD SO ONLY HARDCORE VHS NERDS LIKE US WOULD EVER KNOW. BUT WE GOT BLOGS. AND WE’RE SPREADING THE NEWS. AND GODDAMMIT, <em><strong>DEADLY DREAMS </strong></em>IS <em><strong>BETTER</strong></em> THAN “HARPER’S ISLAND” BECAUSE IT’S GOT DANCER TITS AND WOLF MASKS AND CREEPY GUYS NAMED NORMAN PERKINS. AND I JUST <em><strong>BET</strong></em> ONE OF THE GUYS WHO WORKED ON “HARPER’S ISLAND” WAS NAMED SAM WEINBERG. FUCK SAM WEINBERG. <em><strong>DEADLY DREAMS </strong></em>GETS 3 OUT OF 5 KARIS. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMaTmdqmZgPEexFnaX-aPTX1QHm0655kP-UAeMljDvo8AeUhqyEuEMvsIGY2K8Mk0EKGacG3qEwY2lU3wO-aBdPYy5szhivLeAvwUwxWqNtg4X9SQ1JGXc8mTvlxGAW1vTkQCu0CymrGG/s1600/kari+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465688149196429314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMaTmdqmZgPEexFnaX-aPTX1QHm0655kP-UAeMljDvo8AeUhqyEuEMvsIGY2K8Mk0EKGacG3qEwY2lU3wO-aBdPYy5szhivLeAvwUwxWqNtg4X9SQ1JGXc8mTvlxGAW1vTkQCu0CymrGG/s400/kari+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><strong>FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS:</strong> <p><strong>26 MINUTES </strong>– WE WEREN’T <em><strong>ALL </strong></em>LUCKY ENOUGH TO LAND A FLASHDANCER BACK IN THE LATE 80’S, NOR WERE WE LUCKY ENOUGH TO BANG HER ON THE FIRST NIGHT! ALEX WAS. ALEX IS THE MAN.<br /><br /><strong>42 MINUTES </strong>– THE DEAD DEER IN THE BATHTUB SCENE. IT’S LIKE “THE GODFATHER” FOR THE FIELD AND STREAM CROWD. <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilsYVWOBUH_cHVkvMT8iNe4yvqVtjfUgEEu8xofCMqOBLAqnl67AXlSHqzgy5cfFqcpR1BZq2-fmcyiW6y2l5yrO1WfbrQIT7r2P_KdltXvSdtXj9-n7XLLW1MXZIVy-VBr2HZ1jxBDnGu/s1600/deadly+deer.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465688776379158722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilsYVWOBUH_cHVkvMT8iNe4yvqVtjfUgEEu8xofCMqOBLAqnl67AXlSHqzgy5cfFqcpR1BZq2-fmcyiW6y2l5yrO1WfbrQIT7r2P_KdltXvSdtXj9-n7XLLW1MXZIVy-VBr2HZ1jxBDnGu/s400/deadly+deer.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>57 MINUTES </strong>– FULL-ON WOLFIE STYLE DANCER SEX FROM BEHIND! JULIETTE CUMMINS, I KNOW MORE ABOUT YOU THAN I <em><strong>SHOULD</strong></em>. <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi58KHRBxEddNtBvOnw6dmUvOGReesyWOKe1uYWcYqJe9tdMzzl3R3OMCrlfvZyM5xGW3CodLa9L76NXxvjcxvj4F3THVStXGFbwa95ViGeyUL478xV6_AQurhWYtwqynPycrU0mqtu-27/s1600/deadly+doggy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465687087336227634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi58KHRBxEddNtBvOnw6dmUvOGReesyWOKe1uYWcYqJe9tdMzzl3R3OMCrlfvZyM5xGW3CodLa9L76NXxvjcxvj4F3THVStXGFbwa95ViGeyUL478xV6_AQurhWYtwqynPycrU0mqtu-27/s400/deadly+doggy.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>OOH BABY, YOU'RE HUNG LIKE A POSSUM!<br /></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>The Untamed Squidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16674015797525475434noreply@blogger.com0