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THE MANGLER 2
Directed by Michael Hamilton-Wright
Not that the first Mangler was all that stellar, but late one night last Halloween season I caught this
thing on cable, and seeing as how it had an R-rating and the Millennial presence of Mr. Lance Henriksen I thought it might
be a decent B-minus gorefest. And while Mangler 2 has the ?minus? part down pretty solid, the gore is largely missing and
?decent? ain?t anywhere near this picture. ?Fest? is though, as in ?ShitFest.? But now I?m spoiling the excitement. Read on!
Right from the faux Mission Impossible hacking prank of the opening sequence this thing gets off on the
wrong foot: Mangler 2 is all about spooky computers, and that hi-tech shit is only even moderately scary in real life. Actually
make that just annoying ? viruses and double-billing glitches can be a serious pain in the ass (as I?m sure electronic ?identity
theft? is, although I?ve never actually met anyone who?s been subjected to that), but they don?t literally chew you up and
eat you alive as did the satanic laundry machine in King?s original story. You can actually picture an ironing machine taking
off someone?s arm, or even more if it?s possessed. But what?s a demonic computer gonna do, take off your fingernail in the
CD tray? And besides, Ghost in the Machine already did the killer-in-the-computer-making-common-household-appliances-go-apeshit
thing. Sure, Virus took the idea of possessed circuitry and gave it an ultra-violent SRL-style twist, but Mangler 2 has none
of that flick?s inventiveness or firepower. Or budget. In place of those celluloid-worthy scenes you have . . .
A bunch of snotty boarding school kids interned at a snotty boarding school. Royal Collegiate College (isn?t
that a little like saying royally scholastic scholastics?) has been outfitted with a state-of-the-art prototype of a new server
and surveillance & security system. Provided by the Newton Corporation, the ?N2K? is an artificial intelligence, or ?high
modular interface,? system that everyone agrees is a little bit Big Brother-ish. But that perfectly suits Headmaster Bradeen
(Lance Henriksen) and his strict program of discipline. When an anonymous student alters the school?s Webpage to make ol?
Bradeen out to be a bit of a dog-fucker, the Headmaster quarantines five of the students to the grounds while the rest of
their classmates head out on some enviably exciting geographic field trip.
For revenge Jo Newton (Lauren Ambrose lookalike Chelse Swain), the plump-faced goth brat daughter of Mr.
Newton Corp. himself, downloads ?The Mangler? virus into the school?s mainframe. Scary things begin to happen straightaway,
as lights flicker and Jo & jock-boy Dan (Will Sanderson) begin hooking up Breakfast Club-style. Oh yeah, and the groundskeeper
gets cut-up (OFF-SCREEN) by a pair of hedgetrimmers the N2K stiffly extends on a cable woven of possessed wires. (Chortle!)
In a moment of yuppie brat tech-talk bonding a little later, Jo admits to contaminating the school?s mainframe
with the the Mangler virus. Forgetting of course that being one of the only people left on campus she?s pretty much assured
Bradeen that it was one of the hold-backs that caused the problem in the first place. The Website hack was actually Corey?s
(Miles Meadows) doing, but now all five must set out to forge an e-mail virus to get the Headmaster off their ass.
Meanwhile the N2K launches some wheelchair-bound porn-addict staff member down the stairs, then grabs a
fireaxe with its wires and chops him up (again, off-screen). Another female staffer goes down to the laundry room to do a
load, pausing to pour a drink from her flask before getting started (laundry is hard). Then she lets her hair down, shakes
it out, and pours another round (laundry is fun!). Spooky sounds cause her some momentary concern, but being as loaded as
her washing machine she has other problems at the moment as she somehow manages to slip and get herself caught in a small
laundry roller. She screeches, blood spurts, but again her demise takes place largely off-screen. (Hey, I?m not pathological
about the stuff, but this thing is a horror flick called The Mangler 2 for fucksake! Where?s all the manglage, dude?)
While the kids are in Bradeen?s office working on their little problem, their buddy Will (Dexter Bell) gets
boiled alive by scalding water sprayed from the school?s fire extinguisher system. It?s at this point, helped along by the
annoying bad accent of the school chef, that the gang finally realizes the computer is after them. Oh yeah, and one of those
strings of computer cables being dragged across the floor toward them is a pretty good hint too. Cue the video game-style
running-around-campus-trying-to-avoid-the-evil-computer?s-security-cameras scene (?Run! It can see me!?). They all run outside,
they all run back inside, they all run around in the dark, etc. Chasing a flashlight Corey gets mangled in the gymnasium?s
automated bleachers (about time, too); there?s more in-and-out (running around, that is); as Jo tries another computer hack
to power down the school?s electrified fence the computer begins to speak to her; Bradeen shows up to scowl at his rebellious
little charges; Emily (Daniella Evangelista) gets snatched up by a noose, and everybody runs outside yet again.
There Jo?s bodyguard buddy Paul (David Christensen) shows up just in time to ram the electrified gate for
them, in a scene shown not once, not twice, but four times in true pseudo-Hollywood gangbusters fashion. The cook makes it
out, but Dan gets electrocuted for taking his time and playing jock in front of the N2K?s cameras. This leaves only Jo to
head back inside yet again and have the final confrontation with the N2K.
After much wandering around, Jo finds her way down into the school?s red-lighted wire-encrusted basement.
Bradeen is waiting for her there, dangling from computer cables like some kind of electric meat-mannequin. The Headmaster
has had wires sloppily integrated throughout his entire body, and Lance really hams it up as the super-computer?s human puppet
(even going so far as to quote the Spice Girls). The computer wants to merge with Jo, baby, but she distracts it with one
of her snowflake pattern graphics programs (no kidding) long enough for the bodyguard to show up. Bradeen gets knocked around
enough to puke up a system failure, and Jo and Paul run back to her daddy. Joy!
But wait! In the epilogue, Jo?s palm pilot brings up the message, ?You?ve Been Mangled!? . . .
I read somewhere that Hamilton-Wright was so proud of this steaming pile of tape that he?s already talking
about The Mangler 3 and 4. What a dick. He didn?t even need that last little clich?d lead-in to the next one, as Mangler 2
had so little to do with the first film that he could pull anything out of his half-an-ass and it could not manage to be worse
than this. The only resemblance this film had to the original story was the use of the small-scale laundry mangle in one scene,
but what the hell is such a primitive turn-of-the-century device doing in a fancy high-tech setting like Royal Collegiate
College? Speaking of low-tech, not only are the few computer-generated sequences considerably cheap and dated (some actually
look like the kind of freeware graphics distributed on floppy disk fifteen-or-so years ago), but the ?special? effects were
anything but. Cables slowly dragged along the floor or pulled through the air? Lance in a wire harness with computer cords
Silly-Puttied to his head and hands? Even the low budget techno/industrial soundtrack is third rate, largely featuring songs
by a single no-name act. There is a distinct Japanese influence to be seen in Mangler 2, from some of the background props
all the way up to the Tetsuo/Akira-style meshing of man and technology. Sadly this influence is translated on-screen by Hamilton-Wright
as an empty and uninspired derivation, a dull vision that borrows the images without fulfilling the ideas. A slim plot padded
out with a few unremarkable deaths and a shitload of running around yelling; this could be any straight-to-video ?horror?
feature. Except that I don?t know quite what the point is of having most of the violence appear off-screen, as without much
starpower, plot, or other effects you?d think the gore would be the only draw to something called The Mangler 2. Some of the
only meat in the picture (besides Evangelista bouncing around in a bikini top for much of the film, but she never takes it
off, so, who cares) is Corey reprising a scene from So I Married an Axe Murderer and pretending a slab of raw meat is his
mangled hand. Lance plays off as tired and grumpy, and judging from the perpetual sour grimace of displeasure he?s got pasted
to his puss he?s also suffering from chronic hemorrhoidal inflammation. That, or maybe he?s just been watching the dailies
. . .
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LAS MOMIAS DE GUANAJUATO
Directed by Federico Curiel
Live action comic book Mexican wrestler monster movie mayhem at its finest! My Spanish is pretty piss-poor
so you?ll have to make do with my spotty interpretation here, but the action all comes through loud and clear in this genre-bending
fiesta.
A tour bus cruises through the scenic hills of sunny Mexico, carrying visitors to see the fabled mummies
of Guanajuato. Our tour guide is the nattily attired dwarf Pinguino, who leads the group through a cemetary and into the mission
where the mummies are on display. Standing in line behind hallway-long glass display cases, the mummies inspire both revulsion
and amazement in the visitors. Even more alarming is the next display: a bunch of guys in monster masks and tattered clothing
just standing on a bench. (Something interesting is gonna happen here . . .) The towering central figure is the mummy of infamous
wrestler Satan, who was long ago soundly trounced by legendary luchador Santo (Viva Santo!). Now, if my half-assed translation
of the back of the video box is at all accurate, he has made a pact with the devil to return from hell and wreak vengeance
upon his destroyer. So fearsome is Satan that when Pinguino and one of the female tourists catch sight of him barely starting
to move, they both faint dead away.
Once roused Pinguino is in need of some serious unwinding, so he heads over to a smoky Aztec nightclub to
pound a few cordials and watch some latin strumpet lip-sync. At his urging a couple of chicas accompany him back to the mission
after dark, and look! Satan?s mummy is missing! Vamanos! The three of them rush over to the coliseum where the Blue Demon
and Mil Mascaras are tag-teaming a pair of chumps to the delight of the crowd. In the dressing room afterwards Pinguino tells
his wrestling buddies what has happened, and shortly thereafter Satan creeps up behind Blue Demon in a shadowy hallway and
cold-cocks him. Entering the darkened arena Satan then relives his shameful defeat at the hands of Santo (Viva Santo!). Interrupted
by the night watchman Satan dispatches him easily, even after taking a few bullets, then moves outside into a park to muder
an old drunk. A couple of lovebirds making out in the park rush to the police, and as word begins to spread that one of the
mummies is on the rampage Blue Demon and Mil Mascaras team up to fight crime.
They are too late to help little Pinguino however. Satan has paid him a visit during the night, and as Blue
Demon and Mil Mascaras investigate the death scene they?re attacked by a gang of mummies (each wearing identical monster masks).
A full-blown Batman/WWF-style brawl ensues, complete with goofy sound effects and a dummy getting thrown out a window. Realizing
that they cannot defeat the undead, the wrestlers fight their way out and regroup at their mansion. But here again Blue Demon
is ambushed by Satan (whose rubber mask bulges threateningly as he breathes heavily), who this time not only knocks him out
but strips him and steals his mask! Satan then gives Blue Demon?s outfit to one of his minions and commands him to go forth
and do some crimes. When the police are tipped off that there?s trouble brewing they head to the scene to find none other
than Blue Demon beating hell out of anyone he can get his hands on. The Blue Demon mummy easily overpowers the police and
escapes, not only raising a hell of a ruckus but also tainting the beloved wrestler?s good name in the process. While the
real Blue Demon and Mil Mascaras are out trying to clear Blue?s name the mummies return to the wrestlers? home, killing Blue
Demon?s girlfriend (or just some chick who happened to be hanging around in every other scene . . .) and kidnapping Mil Mascara?s
lady.
Blue Demon had previously taken the son of the murdered night watchman under his wing and into his home
(or, again, maybe it?s just some stray steet kid he?s adopted as a mascot), and now the Kid has stowed away in the trunk of
Blue?s MG as the wrestlers are combing the streets for stray mummies. When they get out and go hunting on foot Kid creeps
around after them, quickly getting lost in the shadowy alleyways and staircases of the city. It?s not long before he?s picked
up by one of the mummies, carted away to join Mil?s girlfriend in one of the mission?s crypts. Upon hearing Kid squeal Blue
and Mil try to rush to his aid, but are stopped by a platoon of policemen out to apprehend Blue Demon. The wrestlers easily
swat the cops aside and head over to the mission, but are suddenly surrounded by Satan and his horde of mummies. Overpowered
in a lazy slap fight/dogpile, Blue Demon and Mil Mascaras are placed unconscious in the same tomb as Mil?s girlfriend and
Kid.
But good news has just arrived, in the form of El Enmascarado de Plata, Santo! (Viva Santo!) Having heard
of his fellow wrestlers? troubles in Guanajuato (or just being fuckin? psychic) Santo (Viva Santo!) has sped to the city in
his sportscar, accompanied by some mincing and ineffectual producer-type sidekick wearing a gatsby. And just in the nick of
time too, as for some reason in the middle of the night the entire town has gathered in the city square to be threatened by
the mummies. Santo (Viva Santo!) wades in and kicks some undead ass, but the mummies are too much for him so he leaves them
to the cops and speeds over to the mission. The zombies have magically managed to beat him there, just as Blue Demon and Mil
Mascaras break out of their tomb, and everybody mixes it up in a low-flying rumble. For a few moments it looks like the mummies
are truly unstoppable, but Santo (Viva Santo!) suddenly remembers he has a bunch of toy spark pistols in his car that shoot
flaming jets of napalm. These are broken out just in time, and the mummies are all hosed down with gasoline jelly and quickly
crispy-crittered.
A few shots of flaming dummies later, the police apologize to Blue Demon for ever doubting him, everyone
heads over to Santo?s (Viva Santo!) hotel for a quick laff, and they all hop into the waiting sportscars and tool off down
the road in search of further adventures.
That?s some truly amusing shit right there; this film is just MADE for pork rinds and beer. I can?t give
Las Momias de Guanajuato a full four-star rating, because I just know that there are countless priceless lines in here that
I?m missing out on for being a monolingual Americano. It?s unfair, I know, to punish a flick for my own ignorance but hey,
what are they gonna do, sic Santo on me? (Viva Santo!) The wrestlers never remove their masks, even when cuddling with their
cuties, and when not wearing vintage bowling shirts often wear capes as part of their casual attire (which they then flamboyantly
spread out on the trunks of their cars when cruising. Classy!). Cheesy monsters and lowbrow fight scenes make this a Saturday
afternoon classic, just don?t forget the aforementioned refreshments. And as I understand it, there are something like a hundred
other Mexican wrestler flicks out there . . .
* * *
(Thanks to www.tikitoys.com.)
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PREMUTOS: LORD OF THE LIVING DEAD (AKA Violent Shit III)
Directed by Olaf Ittenbach
You?ve gotta love a zombie movie; the flesh-eating undead have become such a staple in the horror/gore pantheon
that it?s hard to imagine the genre without them. But after the introduction of the concept and its increasingly violent treatments,
there?s very little new ground to tread. To be kind we?ll call Premutos an homage to Romero?s zombie films, as well as to
the countless others inspired by his grave-breaking trilogy (there?s even a hearty dash of Hellraiser in here), with some
scenes resembling previous efforts just a little too closely. But it?s still a zombie film, chock full of all the blood, guts,
cannibalism, and revolting special effects we?ve come to expect from such, and therefore it?s well worth checking out.
The story of Premutos is that it was he, not Lucifer, who was the first angel cast out of heaven. And he?s
been pissed off ever since, periodically reappearing on Earth to wreak havoc and refusing to stay dead no matter how bloodily
he is butchered. Gory re-enactments of various historical battles in which Premutos had a hand are periodically staged (1023,
1578, etc.) to emphasize his eternal and unquenchable bloodlust, and it is during another period of strife, 1942, that his
journey into the modern world is begun. A European peasant called Rudolph has been dabbling in black magic, and with the help
of the Book of Premutos he hopes to master the secret of eternal life and therefore resurrect his dead wife. Mixing up some
sort of magical potion concocted from the spoils of robbed graves, Rudolph tries some out on the dead wife and buries the
rest in the woods, along with the Book of Premutos, to hide them from the angry god-fearing villagers. But the little lady
doesn?t react well to the potion, puking up blood and then exploding in a shower of gore. A number of Rudolph?s previous test
subjects do come back to life however, just in time to meet the lynch mob of fanatical village people who?ve arrived to murder
the heretical widower. The confrontation is of course a bloody one, as the factions trade bites and bullets, a guy gets a
pickaxe in the eye, and another poor soul even has his cock gnawed off by a zombie (!). Rudolph himself is killed in the fray,
and his house set on fire by the mob.
Moving into the present day, we meet our protagonist Matthias (director Ittenbach), the whiny son of militaristic
patriach Walter (Christopher Stacey). Whenever Matthias suffers some sort of physical trauma, which he manages to do fairly
regularly, he experiences visions of what appear to be past-life experiences. These are inevitably violent, and seem to depict
the young man as the monstrous ?Chosen One? who must be reborn throughout the centuries in order to pave the way for the arrival
of his father, Premutos. One day while Matthias is out receiving a double groin injury during a soccer match, Walter just
happens to dig up Rudolph?s buried treasure in the backyard. When Matthias returns home he accidentally spills some of the
toxic elixir on his damaged crotch, which doesn?t help his condition much. To make things even worse, to distract his son
from the pain pop hands him the Book of Premutos, inspiring a painful flashback of Matthias as Judas.
As Matthias continues to read through the Book of Premutos, a lousy drunken birthday party is being held
for his father. Besides his wife, in attendance are Hugo (Andre Stryi), an old buddy of Walter?s who?s now wretchedly pussy-whipped
by his shrew of a wife Edith (Anke Fabre), Hugo?s old flame Tanja (Ella Wellman), and token black guy Christian (Fidelis Atuma).
While the partiers grow progressively sloppier Matthias is beset by violent hallucinations, and suddenly from out of nowhere
he gets wrapped up in barbed wire and pierced by metal pipes as his face begins to mutate grotesquely. The demonic power within
him has been unleashed, and as it awakens so too do all corpses in the vicinity. The dead come to life and start chewing on
the living, leading to a bloody zombie bar fight and an attack on Matthias? hot neighbor Sandra. A horde of creatures then
breaks into Walter?s house, killing his daughter Rosina and her boyfriend Tacco before Walter sends the rest of the living
out to the barn.
As Walter declares war on the undead for ruining his shitty party, Christian, Hugo, and Tanja arm themselves
with his gun collection and begin shoring up the walls. Edith keeps up a running stream of bitching and griping, but after
talking through some emotional trauma with Tanja Hugo decides he?s had enough of it and socks his old bag right in the mouth.
Walter rejoins the group, having just redecorated the main house with zombie guts, and at that moment the zombies succeed
in breaking down the barn door.
The final bloodbath begins, and Edith is the first to go. Surrounded by a group of zombies she discovers
the pistol she?s been given is actually just a cigarette lighter, and she goes down in shock and horror. Gang-chowed by the
undead, Edith is quickly ripped to pieces as her ex-husband stands by and snickers. Hugo then leaps into action (literally,
by jumping up and grabbing a beam to deliver a Batman-style swing kick to a pair of zombies) and together with Walter turns
the barn into an undead shooting gallery. Many, many heads explode, one zombie gets a compressed air hose stuffed up his ass,
a chainsaw is brought into play, and a number of the walking corpses are overkilled, John Woo style, with excessive gunshot
wounds.
Christian is overwhelmed and devoured, and eventually so is Walter. Hugo runs out of the barn, apparently
leaving Tanja to her death. But just as the transformed Matthias is about to finish her off, Hugo returns, bursting through
a barn wall driving . . . a tank?! (Where the hell did that come from? Oh yeah, from Poland, or Czechoslovakia, or wherever
the crew went to shoot the final scenes, as described in the DVD feature, ?Making of Premutos.?) Hugo shells a number of zombies
into vapor and mows down a good number more with machinegun fire, and it even seems that he?s put The Chosen One down for
good as well. But in a messy resurrection sequence Premutos rises from his son?s corpse, and taking his original mortal form
the Lord of the Living Dead prepares to finish off the pesky couple. A convenient hand grenade puts a stop to that idea, and
Hugo and Tanja make their way out of the slaughterhouse to declare their love for one another. But just to keep things from
finishing up on too sappy a note, Ittenbach throws in a little surprise right at the end . . .
And there you have it; kind of dumb, contrived, and derivative, but violent as shit. (Hence the alternate
title.) Ittenbach takes something of a Peter Jackson approach to the gore effects (which he also created), mixing an absurd
amount of blood with black comedy and shocking cruelty to very entertaining effect and coming up with what he calls something
of a ?horror cartoon.? Gore fans will find plenty of it in Premutos (this is, thankfully, the uncensored version): throats
are torn out, limbs and heads are ripped, hacked, or blown off, faces are bisected or ripped away, bodies explode, people
are impaled, burned alive, hacked up with hatchets, and drawn & quartered, and there are countless gunshot wounds causing
exploding heads and other trauma. The filmmakers are even thoughtful enough to provide a body count for the viewer after they?ve
waded through the constant carnage, with the film?s total piling up to an impressive 139. (Although by the end of Premutos
it really does seem like a great deal more.) On the minus side, the acting and dialogue are pretty fucking atrocious, but
more about that below. Also, most of the fight scenes are slow and clumsily choreographed, coming off as simple step-by-step
actions that must be taken before the blood and guts can come out. But as indicated before, there are literally truckloads
of the stuff in this film, and it?s the fine and bloody effects that make this a late night crowd-pleaser. Hell, with a few
beers even the awful acting and voice-over dialogue becomes bearable. Maybe the original German language version just didn?t
translate too well into English, but at least the actors providing the English ?voice talent? could have conjured up a little
bit of conviction. As it is, it sounds like they?re all sitting around in a basement just reading the script out loud for
the first time. Which doesn?t much help the characters in the film, who almost without exception already come across as such
obnoxious twats that they?re just begging for dismemberment. Edith in particular is such a miserable and objectionable creature
that before her first scene is even over you?re already hoping she?s in for the worst kind of treatment. (There is a grossly
amusing scene in which Hugo surreptitiously rolls up a booger and flicks it into her open cakehole (shot with booger-cam,
yet!), after which Christian pukes up all over her.) And if you?ll indulge me in a bit of sexist nationalism for a moment,
man are the German broads in this picture unattractive! Well, with the exception of the actress in the bit part of Sandra.
But it ain?t a porno, it?s a zombie movie, and as such it delivers as much and even more than one could expect.
* * *
Shock-O-Rama Cinema / ei Independent Cinema
www.Shock-O-Rama.com / www.eicinema.com
10 Park Place, Building 1-A, 2nd Floor, Butler, NJ, 07405
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RAW MEAT (AKA Death Line)
Directed by Gary Sherman
Man, for an underground cannibal movie this thing really chews more choad than it does human flesh. But,
what the hell, let?s check it on out anyway.
Raw Meat starts off on a note of raunchy promise as a burlesque grind spills out against the strip clubs
of some limey red light district. Unfortunately none of this has anything to do with the rest of the film. (Well, except for
the limey part, that is.) Anyway, some chappie in a bowler wanders out of the area and down into a nearby tube station, where
after unsuccessfully trying to pick up a trollop he?s approached and mauled by some unseen thing. Hip young couple Alex (David
Ladd) and Patsy (Sharon Gurney) come across him on the platform stairs, but when they return with a police constable the body
is missing.
Because the man, one James Manford, OBE, was something of a big shot, Alex and Patsy?s minor involvement
puts them under the scrutiny of Inspector Calhoun (Donald Pleasance). Who, when not bitching about getting his tea, proceeds
to harangue the pair repeatedly about the ?incident? (and throughout the film he will do little else, except get drunk and
play pinball).
By the way, about this time talk around the station just happens to come around to some horrific tunneling
accident that occurred way back in 1892: when a number of men and women were trapped during a cave-in, the mining company?s
pending bankruptcy prevented any attempts at rescuing potential survivors. Speculation has it that anybody left alive must
have had to eat the dead and dying one by one . . .
This obscure revelation leads into an incredibly long dark shot tracking through some drippy cavern littered
with numerous gnawed-upon corpses (James Manford, OBE, included, whose ?dead? body blinks unconvincingly). After some time
the scene eventually comes ?round to some patchy tunnel-dweller riddled with sores who?s busy stuttering and moaning over
his dying cavewife. We can tell she?s dying because she ain?t moving even as much as Manford, and she doesn?t bite when her
hubby tries to feed her some of the dead chap?s brains. When he finally realizes his underground queen is gone, tunnel-boy
(since CHUD has already been used as an acronym for Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers we?ll call our sorry scabrous
friend CHUM, for Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Mongoloid) erupts in gibbering rage, going into full Idiot performance
art mode and rampaging through the tunnels in retarded, I mean emotionally challenged, grief.
After this overly long scene he eventually comes across a maintenance crew, and CHUM wastes no time in splitting
one man?s skull with a shovel and impaling another with his own pushbroom. (The Horror! All of the film?s faults aside, nowhere
else have I seen such gratuitous use of janitorial apparatus. And check out the little piece of bacon dangling from the end
of the broom handle!) CHUM brains the third worker with the man?s flashlight, and drags the carcass away for future reference.
Returning to his lair it becomes clear from the number of decaying corpses ceremoniously laid out in a mausoleum-style area
of the cave that CHUM is the last of his kind. Which means he?s gonna need some fresh Raw Meat of the female variety pretty
soon . . .
When Alex and his bird get separated down in the tube station the next evening Patsy is easily picked up
by CHUM and hauled down to his romantic and well-appointed abode. Patsy?s laid out with the rest of the meat and subjected
to CHUM?s brutal idiot routine in yet another series of tedious scenes (although he does show off for her by geeking a rat).
When he tries to make it with her, bloody rat drool still trailing from his mouth, Patsy breaks free and goes running through
the tunnels. Alex has also gone underground in a desparate search for his girl, and after a lot of dark and shadowy nothing
he catches up with CHUM as he catches up to and tries yet again to molest Pat. They tussel, and Chum gets a good bloody beating
before crawling away back into the depths of the tunnel system. Too late to be of any real use Calhoun and some PCs show up
and find their way to CHUM?s abode, seeming nonplussed but somewhat less than shocked at all of the bodies filling his claustrophobic
home. The last we see is a shot down a long dimly lighted tunnel, CHUM?s moan of anguish echoing up out of it.
A perfect less-than-sterling ending to a perfectly less-than-sterling film. This ?Sawney Beane of the subway?
story could have been, should have been, a lot fuckin? better in almost every way. Even for a British horror flick from way
back in 1972. Despite some great and grisly touches the pacing, action, and cinematography were all pretty piss-poor, and
even with the few quick murders and CHUM?s larder/cemetary Raw Meat was not at all exciting, atmospheric, or frightening.
Boring more adequately described it. Long and boring. But strangely the thing does have its appeal elsewhere than in my VCR;
while looking for images online I found several sites that referred to Raw Meat as something of a cult film. Now maybe I could
see that if they had played it up as a musical comedy number . . .
* *
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ROCK & ROLL FRANKENSTEIN
Directed by Brian O?Hara
Hey Now ? Elvis Presley and Liberace fighting for control of the same body?s sexual appetites? This is a
rare one, Rock & Roll Frankenstein is, being one of those pictures that is so bad that I and the two other people screening
it groaned throughout the entire picture, and yet laughed out loud through the thing as well. Not only that, but months later
we were STILL quoting lines from the fucking thing. It?s got schlock cult potential, that?s for sure. And a whole lot of other
weird shit as well . . .
When some snotty limey rocker breaks if off with his managing agent (?Cock-SUCKER!?), said agent (Bernie
Stein, played by Barry Feterman) declares, ?The next star I make I?m gonna own his goddamn ass!? To this end Bernie pays
a visit to his nephew Frankie?s home laboratory, which Bernie maintains for the kid in exchange for ownership of any new discoveries
that arise during his patronage. At the moment Frankie (Jayson Spence) is working on resurrecting dead tissue, which he demonstrates
by injecting a formula of embryonic brain fluid into a severed calf?s head (sitting in a ?lab machine? that consists of a
motorcycle tire spray-painted silver (!), topped with a clear plastic snack dome, and attached to a flexi-pipe). Impressed
by Frankie?s progress, and his adaptable technology, Bernie now unveils his master plan: to combine the body parts of some
of the 20th Century?s greatest rock stars into a, yes, Rock & Roll Frankenstein.
Frankie is certain the procedure will work, and as he jerks off to some autopsy photos to quell his excitement
Bernie?s brain-damaged lackey Iggy (Hiram Jacob Segarra) and a couple of stoner buddies set out to go grave-robbing. In no
time at all, Jimi Hendrix? hands, Keith Moon?s legs, Sid Vicious? ass, Elvis Presley?s head, and even pieces of Buddy Holly
are all collected. The only item they need now is Jim Morrison?s cock. This last item, preserved in the genital collection
of a Dr. Nakasame, is promptly destroyed by the drug-addled trio, so they grab the next closest dick and beat it. I mean,
run away.
Back at Frankie?s lab, after much gory surgery, the stitched-together scrapheap of a star is given enough
electroshock (?Zap ?im in the balls this time!?) to bring him to life with a hearty ?Thengyewvermuch!? But despite having
the King?s head crowning his shoulders and being outfitted in fancy new rock & roll duds, there are complications. Dubbed
?King? by his creators, the newborn superstar (Craig Guggenheim) is a rather listless sort without any apparent musical inclination
whatsoever (?Look at this guy ? he?s like a fuckin? zombie!?). Part of the problem becomes clear when King catches sight of
a ?Gerbils 2 for 1? sign in a pet shop window and rushes to make a purchase. That night bad, bad, things happen. But in the
studio King is still a hopeless mess, so it?s back to the operating table with him. Frankie tinkers around in his noggin,
Iggy applies some proper chemical incentive, and before long King and his combo (appropriately named Unnatural Urges) are
playing the nightclubs.
There?s still something just a little a bit off in King?s swing however, so he pays a visit to a dance studio
to get some help with his moves. But when King finds himself more than a little aroused by the prancing teacher?s leotard-clad
ass, he decides to begin exploring his depraved inclinations in earnest. And, with a lot more gerbils and a little time &
money spent on gay sex chat lines, his performance continues to improve. As King?s popularity increases, Bernie tries to convince
him to capitalize on his growing success and sign some binding big-money contracts. But King?s got a lot of other things on
his mind at the moment, and is in fact so distracted by his own unnatural urges that when a groupie tries to get him to ball
he can only get it up by bending her over and putting a copy of Honcho on her back. The tart doesn?t appreciate this at all,
screeching, ?I didn?t know you were a fricken? faggot!? at him before storming out.
Understandably agitated, King steps into the bathroom for a little chat with his penis. Telling his prick
that it had better get it up, King is surprised to hear the little pecker talk right back to him. ?Then you?d better get me
some soft butt cheeks to shoot a load in!? the prick tells him in a bitchy little lisp. ?And by the way, I?m partial to Philippino
boys!?
Bernie meanwhile is still fixated on getting his contracts signed, and he puts the screws to Frankie to
get his creation under control. Reminding his nephew in no uncertain terms that since he?d taken Frankie under his wing after
he got caught up on the slab at his old job, ?humping a dead twat,? not only does Bernie own Frankie?s ass but the ass of
his monster as well. But before Frankie can broach the subject, King approaches him about his impotence and his unnatural
proclivities. Oh yeah, and his talking penis, too. As a quick fix Frankie gives King a shot of ?rejuvenation formula,? right
in the gonads . . .
The popularity of King and Unnatural Urges continues to grow, with King putting out hit singles and making
the covers of music magazines left and right. One evening while King is performing a sold-out concert (playing ?Chopsticks?
on a keyboard in front of a liquid light show?!?), Bernie snoops around and finds King?s stash of gay mags. Bernie?s none
too pleased about the ramifications of his big star being a fudge-packer, but he?s even more distrubed when he finds the sizeable
pile of dead gerbils under King?s pillows. Each one stuffed into a condom, yet. ?HOLY MOTHER OF FUCKIN? SHIT!?
After the show King tries another groupie, but at the very mention of pussy his prick goes soft. It does
however tell him what to do instead, and that?s to cut the slut?s belly open and fuck her right in the guts. When Frankie
comes over and finds the violated body, King explains that his penis told him to do it. ?And worse than that, my bone-headed
boner wants to stick it in men?s bungholes!? Still in denial about what the ghost of Liberace wants, when Frankie flatly tells
King that he might be gay the rock star replies, ?Me? A butt buddy? No way!? As he explains it, ?Pussy?s what I want up here;
but big fat hairy bungholes is what it wants down here.? King blames Frankie for all of this, ?For stickin? me with this fruity
pecker,? but after talking it over some more he starts to consider giving in to the Hershey high-way.
Which freaks hell out of Bernie, especially when a source brings him photos of King making a pick-up at
a gay bar. King takes the boy home, but before he can get down to business he has to step into the bathroom for a penis pep
talk. King ain?t sure he can go through with this, but his dick?s got a mind of his own. ?I want dingleberries! We?re gonna
felch this young piece of beef! You heard what Franklin said, don?t knock it ?til you?ve tried it ? now let?s go pack some
fudge!? King?s pick-up strips down and bends over, but when he asks for fifty bucks King hesitates. His prick doesn?t however
(?Dingleberries! I smell dingleberries! Let?s burn rubber now! Hershey highway, here it comes!?), so King saddles up and slides
it home, strangling his new fuck-buddy to death as his cock squeals in delight.
While King?s busy digging into his dingleberries, Bernie and Frankie are having a heated argument about
the nature of King?s sexuality. Bernie?s already bent out of shape about King?s sexual preferences threatening his image as
a sex symbol, and when he hears that Frankie not only encouraged the monster but also plans to publish a paper on the entire
experiment he nearly shits a brick. In an effort to get some help King sees a therapist, who can only recommend that the troubled
rocker see a sexual surrogate. Named Bruce. And while King don?t much like the sound of that, his cock sure does: ?I?ll take
Bruce and all the others you got Doc! I want stiff dicks and tight assholes! And dingleberries! Mountains of dingleberries!
Mountains and mountains and mountains of dingleberries!? Before diving straight into Bruce?s dingleberries however, King first
seeks solace in church. He confesses some of his sexual activity to a priest, but is somewhat less than relieved when the
padre gets turned on. Yelling, ?Fuckin? fudgie for God!? King starts kicking the priest around the chapel, which only turns
the old guy on more. King?s prick is enjoying it as well, and at its direction the priest bends over and presents his ass.
But instead of the meat injection he?s expecting, King packs his ass with the altar?s lifesize crucifix. (?How ?bout turning
the other cheek now, Padre??)
Still trying to figure out what the hell?s wrong with his monster of rock, Bernie comes across an item of
interest in Jim Morrison?s autopsy report. Confronting Iggy, Bernie asks him why, if Morrison wasn?t circumcised, the King
is. And, in a take-off of Young Frankenstein?s ?Abby Normal? bit, Iggy explains that Morrison?s cock was destroyed and had
to be replaced with another dick. Whose? ?I don?t know, some cat named Ace . . . Liber Ace.? It doesn?t take Bernie more than
a second or two to piece it together. ?You stole Liberace?s schlong?!? He then has to break this news to King: ?You are equipped
with a fairy queen?s hose; you have Liberace?s sausage dangling between your legs.? King?s only hope is to have the dingleberry-hungry
appendage replaced, or at least removed, but when Frankie attempts to do just that he finds that, ?My God, it?s grown incredibly!?
In fact Liberace?s cock is now a gigantic veiny green monster whose nerves have wrapped themselves around King?s spinal column,
effectively preventing removal. When King grabs a scalpel and tries to hack the thing off anyway Frankie intervenes, managing
to get the blade punched right into his chest in the process.
With little hope left King tries to sedate his penis with pills, booze, and icepacks. Nothing seems to work
however, as the cock reminds him that, ?You can?t keep me on ice forever. I?m horny ? I wanna get shitfaced!? When Bernie
decides that, hell, ?If you wanna be a fudgepacker, be a fudgepacker! The Village People made millions!? King takes the advice
less than well and crushes Bernie?s skull right in the middle of a recording industry party. Rushing the King away from the
ensuing chaos Iggy takes him to a nearby warehouse, not noticing the sign over the door reading ?Gerbils R Us.? Once inside
the squealing of the little rodents soon attracts the cock?s attention. ?Hey there little fellas, who wants to play hide &
go seek? Eeny-meeny-miny-mo, catch a gerbil in your hole!? Outraged, the King begins to fight back against his monstrous penis,
and although the ending is a gruesome and gooey one indeed, it?s not nearly as twisted as it might have been. (Gay monster
penis loose in a gerbil factory? The possibilities stagger the imagination!)
Pretty much what you can expect from a low budget independent horror film, and a few twists more. Achingly
bad lines and labored drug humor (?A mind is a terrible thing not to get wasted?) are mixed in with pounds of gore and body
parts in an attempt to appeal to a particular demographic, that being late-night pothead horror fans who just can?t get enough
of that hot gerbil action. But then again, who can? Quantity doesn?t always mean quality however, as the cheap effects occasionally
falter: there?s a bad Full Moon Video-style rat puppet, Mr. Peepers; in one scene, instead of using make-up on King?s Jimi
Hendrix hands it appears that he?s just wearing a pair of brown gardening gloves; seams are visible on King?s skull cap and
the Frankenschlong dildo; and you can even see the blood hose sticking out when King geeks a gerbil. (The reanimated cow head
was pretty creepy, though.) The scant nudity shown is none too appealing either. While the uneven balance of sick & tasteless
humor tries too hard in some places and not enough in others, the stereotypical fudgie jokes are pretty funny in their way
(?Mountains and mountains and mountains of dingleberries!?). In fact they may be the reason Rock & Roll Frankenstein was banned
from IFP venues . . . a little too close to home, perhaps? (Not to imply that IFP is run by fuckin? fudgies for God or anything
. . .) At any rate, as mentioned before this one?s a groaner for sure, but you?ve just gotta have a soft spot somewhere in
your heart for a zombie dong hungry for ?Mountains and mountains and mountains . . .?
* * *
Shock-O-Rama Cinema / ei Independent Cinema
www.Shock-O-Rama.com / www.eicinema.com
10 Park Place, Building 1-A, 2nd Floor, Butler, NJ, 07405
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STING OF DEATH
Directed by William Grefe
When I saw this listed in the SWV catalog I could not resist: featuring a beastly protagonist more ghastly
than the Mushroom People, more horrifying than the Alligator People, the creature wielding the titular Sting of Death here
is . . . JELLYFISH MAN!!! (Dramatic theme music, please.)
A gloved hand covered in marmalade and barbecue sauce, belonging to a wetsuit patched with moss and draped
with dirty Mardi Gras beads, pulls a bathing beauty underwater. Credits roll as the diver takes her down, and elsewhere a
gang of college girls on their midterm break pulls up at the docks of Dr. Richardson?s island in the Florida Everglades. Father
of the vacationing Karen (Valerie Hawkins), Richardson (Jack Nagle) is out on the island conducting research on ?sea life
and evolution? with the help of his assistants Dr. John Hoyt (Joe Morrison) and the creepy scar-faced Egon (Doug Hobart).
Doc?s offered his place up to the kids as a midterm party pad, and after a quick break for some delightful Orangeade the chicks
are joined by a boatload of other students for a wild ?shindig? around the swimming pool.
Everybody twists up a storm (and, presumably, does the dance the Doc referred to as ?The Ska?), and even
shrinking violet Egon seems to be having a good time on the outskirts of the festivities. That is until he?s spotted by some
of the drunken college boys, whereupon he?s pushed down, jeered at, and eventually chased out into the swamp. That bit of
fun over, everyone forms a conga line and heads back to the party. Miller beer and dill pickles are passed around, and pretty
soon everyone?s shaking ass to the ska sound of the picture?s dance song, ?The Jellyfish.? But as the kids all get down and
flail their limbs Sixties-style (nobody seems to agree upon exactly what dance moves constitute ?doing The Jellyfish?; a limp
version of The Monkey seems to be the most common consensus) the sinister wetsuit has slipped into the pool unobserved. When
one of the overheated coeds jumps in to cool off Wetsuit grabs her, leaving hideous BBQ sauce burns on her face before climbing
out and wrecking the party. It (we still haven?t seen the thing?s head yet) rampages around the pool, smears grape jelly on
a college boy?s face, then leaps into the swamp and swims away.
Some of the gang piles into a yacht to take their condiment-afflicted buddy to a hospital, while the girl
is tended to back at the house. But the boat crew hadn?t noticed Wetsuit hacking away at the boat?s hull with a hatchet, and
they don?t get far before the engine floods and stalls out. Soon there?s an alarmed cry of ?Look! Jellyfish!? and bobbing
near the yacht can be seen . . . bunches of plastic sandwich bags blown up and stuffed with colored tissue paper. ?There?s
more of them!? ?They?re all over!? Oh my god, ?THEY?RE ATTACKING!? The bags just float there. The impending tragedy reaches
epic Irwin Allen proportions as, ?Water?s pouring into the bottom!? ?Boat?s sinking!? And suddenly everybody?s in the water.
Panic-stricken, the kids thrash about trying to avoid the killer party favors. With the little strings tied to them to simulate
tentacles they?re about as threatening as a fleet of Kotex, but that doesn?t stop the terror. One by one the students succumb
to fake jellyfish horror, the baggies clinging to their faces and hair like soiled oversize condoms.
His fiendish work done for now, Wetsuit returns to his hidden cave lair. And here we finally see the monster?s
head for the first time. It looks like a big dirty plastic bubble, not unlike the soiled casing of a beanbag chair with moldy
ropes dangling from it for tentacles. And what?s more, the creature even has a secret identity. It turns out that what looks
like a guy in a wetsuit (you can even see his bare heels poking out the back of his flippers) really IS a guy in a wetsuit.
It?s Egon, who through some miracle of mad science is able to stick his head up the ass of a giant Portuguese man-of-war and
wear it like a hat, thereby transforming himself into . . . JELLYFISH MAN!!!
Back at the Doc?s estate he, Karen, and John have patched the wounded swimmer up as best they can and are
now trying to enjoy a formal dinner party. Afterwards John and Karen fall in love. He puts on a sandwich bag and . . . just
kidding. The next day Doc, John, and a couple gals set out into the swamp by hydroplane. Looking for Egon they stop by his
shack in the Everglades, and while the rest of them marvel at his collection of jellyfish one unlucky broad unwisely steps
out for a cigarette. JELLYFISH MAN! appears and begins to stalk after her, chasing her out into the marshland. After much
screaming and splashing he closes in and finishes her off, and when the gang realizes their pal Donna has gone missing they
tear out into the swamp to look for her. All break out the scuba gear and go diving, but despite the ecological miracle that
allows a muddy overgrown swamp to resemble a crystal-clear uncrowded waterway beneath the surface, the group has no luck.
Doc and John?s diving partner Jessica does meet up with JELLYFISH MAN! however, who tears off her oxygen mask and makes away
with her.
Up at the house Karen and her platinum blonde friend sit around worriedly drinking highballs and smoking
cigarettes. Blondie decides to take a shower, and who should step in and join her but . . . JELLYFISH MAN! He smears her face
and makes short work of her, and Doc and John return just in time for an hysterical Karen to find her friend?s body. Egon
suddenly appears, bearing the bad news that someone has scuttled the island?s only remaining boat. As the hydroplanes don?t
have enough fuel to reach the mainland the only thing left to do is try to repair the radio that some mysterious force had
smashed earlier. As Doc and John set to work on the radio, Egon goes to work on the Doc?s daughter. ?You like me, don?t you
Miss Karen?? he asks before confessing to the murders. ?I had to do it Miss Karen, for us. They were no good . . . I love
you Karen! They don?t love you!? The less-than-flattered Karen faints dead away, only to be hauled out to Egon?s hydroplane
and skimmed away deep into the marshland.
Doc and John quickly set after them, and after a lengthy slightly-less-than-thrilling chase through the
swamp grass Doc?s boat bottoms out and Egon makes it to his hideout with the girl. Reachable only by an underwater passageway,
Egon?s cave has been outfitted like some sci-fi version of the Land of the Lost set. Purple lighting splashes across the faux
stone walls and rock formations, skulls and shells litter the floor, and clunky electronic lab equipment takes up space (hey,
how?d he get all that shit in through that tiny underwater tunnel anyway?). But despite these swank digs Karen is noticeably
unimpressed, and as she shrinks from Egon?s attentions he begins to shout at her. ?You?re just the same as the others! You
don?t like me! You think I?m ugly! Nobody likes me! Nobody!? (Maybe because you?re a dirty jellyfish-fucker, hey?)
But Egon knows what will improve his appearance, and that?s jellyfish ass. Slinking over to the big jellyfish
tank Egon gives Karen his recipe for monster-making success: ?Sea water, electricity . . . and human blood!? Oh yeah, ?Mixed
with the chemicals that I stole from your father?s lab!? Egon cranks up the juice and plunges his face and hands into the
tank. Soon jellyfish jizz is oozing out all over his quivering face (eww), and as an increasingly grossed-out Karen looks
on Egon lifts the creature out of the tank and does his head-up-its-ass trick. As he turns toward the girl there?s a true
moment of pure monster movie joy when the music swells and Karen comes face-to-face with the awful menace that is . . . JELLYFISH
MAN!!!
As these melodramatic doings transpire John has miraculously managed to find the entrance to Egon?s secret
hideout. Armed only with a burning flare he dives down and makes his way inside, and facing off with Egon the two of them
begin to fight. The soundtrack blares dramatically, but a giant plastic bag is no match for a burning road flare. When John
plunges it into the jellyfish tank (?) Egon?s jellyfish head melts away, the equipment begins to short out, and John gets
Karen out of there just before the whole place goes up in a giant underwater fart.
Reunited with her father back up top, Karen cries, ?Oh Daddy! Oh it was, oh, so horrible! How, please daddy,
tell me how something like that could ever happen?!? ?I don?t know,? he wisely replies. ?Maybe some day, someone will find
an answer.? The end.
God damn but I enjoyed that! The daffy Sixties clothes, lingo, and tunes are all gravy (and the scenes with
the little jellyfish were just too much, man ? acting awards all around!), but the real meat here is the ridiculously, well,
ridiculous monster: JELLYFISH MAN!!! Jellyfish lover, more like. How great is it that to turn into a monster the bad guy actually
had to put his head up a jellyfish ass?! That?s some crazy fucked up stuff, especially for 1966. I guess that would be enough
to make anybody go apeshit and start laying out The Sting of Death. And you?ve gotta love a monster movie that has its very
own signature dance song. Dig that crazy Jellyfish, baby! (Did I mention that the tune was provided by ?Special Singing Guest
Star Neil Sedaka??) A camp cult classic of the fullest magnitude, this is top notch Saturday afternoon entertainment.
Sting of Death comes with a bonus Something Weird Video Screener tacked onto it: ?I was almost unconscious
when my raft was tossed up on Blood Island . . .? begins the narration, and shortly thereafter our survivor, Fred Rogers,
is rescued by some sexy island girls. Captured is more like it, as the ladies are hanging out on the remote island and waiting
out ?the war? by using stray men for slave labor and sexual services. Lest Rogers fail to appreciate his situation he?s shown
the alternative, a former captive?s bloody head on a stake (actually a rubber Halloween mask; whether it?s a clown or a ghoul
is hard to tell).
The women of Blood Island have a pretty sweet deal going on, with their palatial temple abode, regular luau-style
banquets, and the random Joe to take care of the hard work, so they have a lot of time to dance around in bikinis and other
skimpy outfits (Roman garb and belly dancer costumes being especially popular). And fuck with their prey; by day Rogers is
prodded at spearpoint into doing the necessary manual labor, and by night he?s required to satisfy whichever lady?s turn it
is for good lovin?. Poor Rogers: ?Later I dozed, praying that the girl was satisfied. But I wasn?t to be that lucky. She woke
me again and again during the night . . .?
Ol? Fred?s performance apparently isn?t quite up to par however, and in the next scene he?s been tied to
a tiki pole and tortured bloody. The Blood Island Broads make a circle around him and trance out while chanting some mumbo
jumbo, but the lovely Desiree has taken a shine to Rogers and helps him escape through the jungle set. They are of course
chased right away, and there?s a wild catfight between Desiree and Aphrodite, set to the sound of extras making monkey noises
on the soundtrack. Seriously. Desiree smashes Aphrodite?s face in with a rock, and the couple is preparing to move on when
Rebecca suddenly shows up. Becky gets a spear in the belly, causing her such consternation that she falls eye-first on her
own knife.
Rogers and Desiree make it back to his raft, where he entertains a grisly fantasy about what might happen
to him should he be recaptured. His belly would be sliced open and a number of bulging sausage casings pulled out, his heart
torn from his chest and squished by the crazed high priestess, and his head ripped off with her bare hands. But although ?We
barely made it to shore when the fiends arrived at the beach and threw rocks and coconuts at us,? fortunately they make it
out to sea where they drift until their inevitable rescue.
This 25-minute short must be the condensed version of a longer work, as characters we never saw are listed
in the lengthy credits (saw the props by Tropical Traders, but where the hell was the Nazi Soldier and the Blonde Nurse?).
And although the credits also tell us that this quick H.G. Lewis-style (sans the bare breasts) flick was directed by one Gordon
H. Heaver (who stands on-set quite proudly in one production scene), it?s only by reading a clapboard that we can tell this
flick was called Love Goddess. Guess that explains the song of the same name we heard earlier, hey? Regardless, with the saucy,
violent storyline and radio airplay-style narration, this little number comes across nicely as an entertaining bit of pulp
fun. Could have used a little enticing Sapphic action here and there (hey, they only had access to so many men, right?), but
then again, what film couldn?t? And you have to admit, the price was right.
* * * *
#7706: $15.00 +$5.00 shipping from Something Weird Video
www.somethingweird.com
P.O. Box 33664, Seattle, WA, 98133
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tmcrites@earthlink.net
|
