TRAVEL-SIZE REVIEW: THE STUFF (1985)

FLUFFERBLOODER.

"Garrett Morris lampoons Famous Amos"? What? You still haven't rented this yet? It's got killer ice cream forgodsake! And Michael Moriarty, who can't possibly 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 funny. Now if they would've burst open Dan Aykroyd's fat melon, I might've actually cheered. God, I know Larry Cohen's a hack, but THE STUFF somehow even made Q: THE WINGED SERPENT look good. Did I mention Garrett Morris lampoons Famous Amos?

GARRETT MORRIS GETS MORE FACE TIME HERE THAN IN THE FIRST THREE SEASONS OF SNL.

BUT BROOKE, THIS IS A FAMILY FILM.

RITUAL OF DEATH (1990)

WORST HICKEY OF HIS LIFE.

RITUAL OF DEATH. Well now, that's a pretty generic title. What exactly is 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 is it about? Fuck if I know. But it's a ton 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?

DOES THIS BOTHER YOU?

As I watched this film, I noticed several things. First of all, no one seemed to be reading their lines right. I’m not talking about bad acting – shit, every low budget horror film has their fair share of bad acting. No, in RITUAL OF DEATH it sounds like no one understands English – 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, around here.” “Well, at least we were able to get through…the whole piece today.” Those are just two examples, but pretty much every 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 the wrong word. You’ll be drunk...before the half hour mark.

DO I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION YET?

The second thing I noticed is that there are quite a lot of abnormally hot young girls in RITUAL OF DEATH. And they like to get all nacky nacky and shit. That’s unusual for really really 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 this one off.

THE DASHING YOUNG BRAD. HE'S A LADYKILLER.

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 also 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. Literally.

ANGIE, YOU CAN'T SAY WE NEVER TRI-I-IED.

The story, 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 Magic: The Gathering 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.

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 she 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 double Goats Head Soup. You have been warned.

AW SHIT, THAT JUST CHANGED THE MPAA RATING.

Meanwhile, Comic Con dude has figured out that Brad might 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 really start.

POPPA ZIT.

It all starts when he gets up in the middle of the night to pop a really big zit, which explodes disgustingly on the bathroom mirror in a torrent of butterscotch pudding. But soon after, he’s literally peeling off the side of his face in a scene that’s even more nasty than the scene in Poltergeist, ripping off skin while Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle green goop runs down the side of his neck. It’s truly gruesome stuff, very effective for such a low-budget film. And a bummer if you were digging the Brazilian porn.

FUCK, AND THE PROM IS TOMORROW NIGHT!

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 sucks actually, because this freak is wasting some seriously hot Victoria’s Secret ass, and in my 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 shit, these South American hotties are still 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?

DUDE'S STILL GOT IT GOIN' ON.

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 far – he doesn’t even take advantage of it! Every time he’s faced with a half-naked babe, he kills 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 realize 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.

I'VE GOT A HEADACHE AND I DON'T WEAR PANTS.

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 awful!” 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 dudes this time, because hey, what the hell, what does it matter if you’re not gonna fuck ‘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 “No! No! It’s not safe!” for what feels like three fucking minutes while Brad slo-o-o-wly 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 blades that get him, it’s the tiny little fucking lawnmower tires 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 lots of gore. Good, gooey, drippy, oozing pustules of disgusting gore, and the effects still stand up fairly well today. In fact, they might be better, being of the prosthetic appliance and real animal guts variety versus today’s shitty computer generated crap. Yes, the acting sucks. Yes, the dialogue sucks. And yes, swear to God, a black cop actually says “What are you jiving at?” in this movie.

I'M AN INTERIOR DECORATOR. AND I DON'T WEAR PANTS.

But despite its shortcomings and its stream-of-conscious Satanic plotline (if there even is 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, these girls are the real deal. 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.

FOUR OUT OF FIVE KARIS.

FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS:

23 minutes – Topless babe takes bath with bleeding goats head. Nice swirling MTV camera style. Who the fuck is screaming in the background though? Be quick, buzzkill approaching with sudden man ass.

25 minutes – Hey, it’s the Egyptian/Brazilian high school stage rendition of Barbarella!

GOD, I USED TO LOVE DURAN DURAN VIDEOS!



37 minutes – 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 asshole!” (Shaking fist in the air defiantly)

39 minutes – More topless Goats Head Soup.

40 minutes – The disgusting zit pop/face rip scene. Nothing a half gallon of Clearasil couldn’t solve.

48 minutes – Full-frontal Devil sex, Skinemax-style. With Eighties bush! How retro!

51 minutes – Another Brazilian hottie doffs her top willingly for Pustule Man. And yes, her breasts are as fantastic as her acting is terrible.

53 minutes – A black cop says “What are you jiving at?” Racial relations in Brazil take one giant step backwards.

56 minutes – Another hottie hangs up painting with no pants on.

57 minutes – Her reward? A knife in the mouth. The ENTIRE knife.

NOPE. NOT GOOD.

TRAVEL SIZE REVIEW: AFTER HOURS (1985)

Scorsese's finest moment. Forget Taxi Driver (overrated), forget Raging Bull (black and white) and forget Bringing Out the Dead (please). AFTER HOURS 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 ample curves, and Cheech and Chong do not smoke weed. And Robert DeNiro is nowhere to be found. Did I hear you say "masterpiece"?


ROSANNA ARQUETTE. TOTO WROTE A SONG ABOUT HER. THEY ALSO WROTE ONE ABOUT AFRIKA BAMBAATAA TOO, DIDN'T THEY?

DEMONWARP (1988)

YOU WANT A MOVIE THAT’S 1/3 ACID TRIP, 1/3 SHRIEK OF THE MUTILATED AND 1/3 OF THE FREAKIEST SCI-FI ZOMBIE ALIEN LIFEFORCE MEETS Q THE WINGED SERPENT MINDFUCK YOU’VE EVER SEEN IN YOUR LIFE? WELL, BOYS AND GIRLS, IT’S DEMONWARP. AND IF YOU'RE UP FOR THE CHALLENGE, IT’LL EVEN THROW IN OSCAR WINNER GEORGE KENNEDY AND THAT KID FROM SILVER SPOONS WHO ISN’T RICKY SCHROEDER JUST FOR THE SHEER BLOODY HELL OF IT. SO WHADDYA SAY? WANNA PIECE OF THIS ONE?

PSST, HEY! THAT FAMOUS SHOT OF ME RUNNING THROUGH THE FOREST? NOT MY BEST ANGLE.

WHY NOT, THAT’S WHAT I SAID. THIS ONE’S GOT IT ALL. 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 NO DAMN REASON! AW, BUT I’M GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF. LET’S TAKE THIS ONE SLOWER. LIKE, SAY, THE FIRST FUCKING HOUR OF THIS FILM! YEAH, THAT’S THE PENALTY TO GET TO THE PAYOFF IN DEMONWARP. THE FIRST HOUR OF THIS RAGGED LITTLE GEM PLAYS ALMOST EXACTLY LIKE THE WORST BIGFOOT IN THE WOODS MID-70’S SHRIEK OF THE MUTILATED/CURSE OF BIGFOOT MEETS GRIZZLY 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 JUST ONE OF THE GUYS! NOW HOW COOL IS THAT? ANOTHER ONE OF THESE KIDS, THE ONE THEY CALL FRED, GREW UP TO APPEAR IN A FEW EPISODES OF DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES, ALTHOUGH MY GIRLFRIEND DOESN’T REMEMBER HIM AT ALL, AND SHE WATCHED THAT SHIT RELIGIOUSLY. SO THERE YOU HAVE IT.

HE'S HUNG WITH RICKY SCHROEDER AND SEEN JOYCE HYSER'S TITS. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

WELL, THE STORY BEHIND DEMONWARP, AND IT’S A DOOZY, 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’ YEARS THERE IN A FEW SECONDS. ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DRAW A CONNECTION BETWEEN THE TWO EVENTS OR WHAT? IS THERE ENOUGH BEER IN THE FRIDGE TO GET MY BRAIN THROUGH THE REST OF THIS FILM?

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 STAR OF OUR SHOW, THE MONSTER, 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. NEITHER OF WHICH IS A GOOD LOOK, BY THE WAY.

ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, I'LL PRETEND I'M RICKY SCHROEDER!

CUT TO MORE NUDITY (AND QUICK!), THANKS TO B-MOVIE QUEEN MICHELLE BAUER, WHO GOOD-NATUREDLY TAKES HER SHIRT OFF FOR NO 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 ISN’T MICHELLE BAUER, WHILE MICHELLE RUNS FOR THE SAFETY OF HER JEEP. IN AN AMAZING MOMENT OF INSANITY, MICHELLE ACTUALLY RUNS PAST 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.

WHY, NO, OF COURSE THEY'RE REAL. ISH.

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 SOMETHING’S UP BECAUSE SHE DOES ONE OF THOSE RE-A-A-A-L SL-O-O-OW TURNS TOWARD THE CAMERA, AND SHO’ NUFF WE FIND OUT BIGFOOT AND WILD BUSEY’S ALREADY GOTTEN 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 SEEMS TO SHOOT IT DEAD. BUT AS IT DIES (AND BELIEVE ME, IT TAKES A WHILE), THE THING STARTS MORPHING BACK INTO A HUMAN – WITH SOME PRETTY COOL SPECIAL EFFECTS FOR THE TIME, I MIGHT ADD – AND THEN, AS THE KIDS SAY, THINGS REALLY START GETTING WEIRD.

WATCH OUT, BUDDY, I'VE GOT MY EYE ON YOU!

IF YOU’VE GOT A BONG, IT MIGHT BE TIME TO FIRE IT UP RIGHT ABOUT HERE, BECAUSE THE LAST HALF HOUR OF DEMONWARP’S LIKE A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT 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 NOW FINALLY SOMEONE’S PUSHED HIM OUT THE SIDE DOOR AND SHIFTED INTO FIFTH. HANG ON, IF YOU CAN…

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 FRONT OF WHAT APPEARS 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?

HEY, HOW'D HELENA BONHAM CARTER GET IN HERE?

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 ARE IN A CAVE WITH A SHITTY STYROFOAM PYLON) AND ONE OF ‘EM IS EVEN WEARING A RESIDENTS T-SHIRT! PERSONALLY, ANY KID WHO PRETENDS TO LIKE THE RESIDENTS DESERVES TO BE A DECAYING ZOMBIE, IF YOU ASK ME.

OH SO THAT'S WHO'S BUYING RESIDENTS ALBUMS!

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 19TH CENTURY PRIEST FROM THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES OF THE FILM! AHH, SO THAT’S WHERE HE’S BEEN! THEY BIND HER ON THE TABLE – NOW THIS FILM IS REALLY 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 STILL MANAGES TO MOVE HER HEAD! NOW THAT'S TALENT! COULD BRINKE STEVENS DO THAT?

OH GOD NO, NOT THE RESTRICTIVE CLOTHING! ANYTHING BUT THAT!

SO OKAY, THE DRIPPY DEMON LORD EATS HER HEART, WHICH IS NOT WHERE I WOULD’VE STARTED BUT HEY. ODDLY, THE PRIEST KEEPS MUMBLING “THERE IS MORE…THERE IS MORE” SO I’M GUESSING THE HEART WAS JUST AN APPETIZER. BUT INSTEAD, THEY BRING IN ANOTHER TOPLESS BABE AND BIND HER TO THE TABLE TOO! THIS IS THE BEST 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 THAT TO THE PRODUCERS OF DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES?

HIGHLIGHT FROM THE STAR TREK OUTTAKES REEL

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, “NAKED GUN CAN’T BE MORE THAN A FEW YEARS AWAY, RIGHT?”

FUCK YOU, GWAR! I'LL SEE YOU IN COURT!

OKAY, SO WHAT STARTED OUT 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 BREEDERS, MUTANT AND FORBIDDEN PLANET ON BROWN ACID, AND THAT KINDA MADE MY DAY. THE CHICKS WEREN’T THE BEST 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.

FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS:

20 MINUTES – SEX AND…
24 MINUTES - …A SHOWER, AND NOT EVEN THE SAME GIRL!

I SAID MMMMPPHHH I'M BEST FRIENDS MMMPPGGGLLPHHH WITH RICKY MMGGPPFF SCHROEDER...

28 MINUTES – OUR FIRST SIGHT OF THE MONSTER, AND IT’S A WINNER! JAKE, DADDY’S GOTTA GO OUT TONIGHT…

41 MINUTES – MICHELLE BAUER THINKS IT’S TOO HOT WITH A SHIRT.

43 MINUTES - …AND IT’S THE GIRL WITH THE SHIRT ON THAT GETS KILLED. WHAT KIND OF MESSAGE ARE WE SENDING OUR KIDS HERE?

52 MINUTES – 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!

AND I'VE GOT TECMO BOWL TOO!

53 MINUTES – GARY BUSEY MONKEY SNAGS ANOTHER VICTIM IN WHAT IS ACTUALLY A VERY BRUTAL DEATH BY BEAR TRAP AND POINTY STICK. OUCH! THE ONLY THING MORE PAINFUL THAN THIS WOULD BE WATCHING “THE GINGERDEAD MAN”.

1:06 – HEY CINDY, WHY THE LONG EYEBAL…I MEAN, FACE?

1:19 – MICHELLE BAUER’S TOPLESS BONDAGE SACRIFICE SCENE. I HEAR SHE DIES IN THIS SCENE, BUT I DIDN’T MAKE IT THAT FAR…

1:23 – ANOTHER TOPLESS BONDAGE SACRIFICE BABE! IS THIS THE HORNIEST ALIEN SUPER-RACE IN THE UNIVERSE?

EVERY GIRL'S CRAZY 'BOUT A SHARP-DRESSED MAN.

TRAVEL SIZE REVIEW: BILL HICKS LIVE (2004)

I don't idolize 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 Sam Kinison, another renegade comedian/drug abuser who died way way too young (and around the same time too if I'm not mistaken). So just a thought - Bill Hicks was a great stand-up comedian, but neither his act nor his demeanor were entirely new. And if you want visual proof of what cancer can do to a man, on his final Letterman appearance, he turned into Martin Mull.

TRAVEL SIZE REVIEW: CHARLIE VARRICK (1973)

DOES WALTER REALLY NEED MAKEUP TO MAKE HIM LOOK OLDER?

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 HORNY!" Then Chrissy Snow pulls up in a '69 Camaro and guns everyone down. Oh, did I spoil the plot? My bad.

DEADLY DREAMS (1988)

WELL NOW, A TITLE LIKE THAT JUST BEGS TO BE TAMPERED WITH, AND IF YOU’RE NOT A FAN OF THIS NOT-YET-NOR-EVER-WILL-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 DEADLY DREAMS DOESN’T EXACTLY MOVE AT LIGHTNING 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…

GREAT. THE FIRST HORROR MOVIE VILLAIN WHO LICKS HIS OWN ASSHOLE.

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…BAM! 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.

CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHY GETTING STRANGLED BY A WOLFMAN WOULD GIVE YOU A CHUBBY?

ACTUALLY, FUCK THAT, YOU’LL SEE IT OFTEN ENOUGH JUST IN THE NEXT 10 MINUTES, AS WOLFMAN JACKOFF KILLS PRETTY MUCH EVERY FRIEND POOR ALEX HANGS WITH. OF COURSE, THEY’RE JUST NIGHTMARE VISIONS REALLY. OR ARE THEY? BUT WHEN OUR SILVER-TONGUED CASANOVA BANGS A HOT LIMBER FLASHDANCER NAMED MAGGIE THE FIRST NIGHT HE MEETS HER, OLD WOLFIE BOY LEAVES HER 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 RED SHOE DIARIES 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 HER NEEDS, DUDE.

THIS IS THE ONLY HOTTIE IN THE FILM. FROM NOW ON, PHOTOS WILL CONCENTRATE ON HER.

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 THAT? A WOLF/FOX/POSSUM MASK UNDER HIS HAMPER OF SOILED UNDIES? NOW HOW’D THAT GET THERE?

HEY, I'D SHOOT SOMEONE WITH HAIR LIKE THAT TOO.

WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? WE NEVER DO FIND OUT. AS A MATTER OF FACT, YOU’LL FIND MORE ANSWERS IN AN EPISODE OF “LOST” THAN IN DEADLY DREAMS. 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 DICK. 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 ONE GUY WORKING IN NEW YORK THEATRE BY THE NAME OF SAM WEINBERG, I’D BE PRETTY FUCKING SHOCKED.

BABY, YOU'RE SO HOT THE ROOM IS SPINNING! OH, IT REALLY IS SPINNING?

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 HERE WITH YOU GODDAMN COLLEGE KIDS AND YOUR GODDAMN DRUGS AND YOUR GODDAMN BULLSHIT! (LONG PAUSE) GOOD NIGHT!” YEP, HE’S SPEAKING FOR ALL OF US.

CROTCHETY SHERIFF PLAYED BY ELMER CANDY, JOHN'S LESS FAMOUS LITTLE BROTHER.

DRUGS AND BULLSHIT INDEED. HOW ELSE 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 NIGHT. AND YOU’RE IN A GRAVEYARD. ALEX, THOUGH, HE SEEMS OKAY WITH THIS ALIBI. ME, I SAY “GODDAMN COLLEGE KIDS AND THEIR GODDAMN DRUGS AND GODDAMN BULLSHIT! GOOD NIGHT SIR!”

YEP. ROOM STILL SPINNING.

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 THAT NAME FROM? WAS IT TOO LATE TO ADD A DEPUTY NAMED ANTHONY BATES?). NORMAN SUPPOSEDLY KILLED HIMSELF AFTER THE HOMICIDE…OR DID 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.

YEP. SHE'S A REDHEAD.

WELL, WITH BAGGAGE LIKE THAT, HOW CAN I RECOMMEND DEADLY DREAMS? WELL, FOR ONE, IT’S GOT WOLFBOY. AND IT’S GOT THAT WHOLE DREAM/REALITY THING THAT STARTS OUT ANNOYING AND THEN JUST GETS FUNNY. 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 FIRST TIME SHE BANGS, AND DOES IT DOGGIE STYLE THE SECOND TIME! OR, SHOULD I SAY, WOLFIE STYLE? OOPS, DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD?

AND ONE FOR THE LADIES...

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 DEADLY DREAMS, 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, DEADLY DREAMS IS BETTER THAN “HARPER’S ISLAND” BECAUSE IT’S GOT DANCER TITS AND WOLF MASKS AND CREEPY GUYS NAMED NORMAN PERKINS. AND I JUST BET ONE OF THE GUYS WHO WORKED ON “HARPER’S ISLAND” WAS NAMED SAM WEINBERG. FUCK SAM WEINBERG. DEADLY DREAMS GETS 3 OUT OF 5 KARIS.

FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS:

26 MINUTES – WE WEREN’T ALL 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.

42 MINUTES – THE DEAD DEER IN THE BATHTUB SCENE. IT’S LIKE “THE GODFATHER” FOR THE FIELD AND STREAM CROWD.

57 MINUTES – FULL-ON WOLFIE STYLE DANCER SEX FROM BEHIND! JULIETTE CUMMINS, I KNOW MORE ABOUT YOU THAN I SHOULD.

OOH BABY, YOU'RE HUNG LIKE A POSSUM!