A Virgin Among the Living Dead (1973)

Watched Jess Franco's classic A Virgin Among the Living Dead (1973) a few nights back. The weird and wonderful tale of Christina, who returns home to her family at Monserrat Mansion after a long absence, to hear the reading of her father's will. Stopping at an inn on a stretch of dismal coastline (in fairness I suspect it may be nicer in season), she is mysteriously told that no one lives at Monserrat Mansion, but by the by she is summoned. A coach ride full of obscure musing brings her, and it sure does seem like there are a few of her family living there.But everyone is off from the start, and rapidly gets offer and offer. Sex and death, dreams and ghosts! These are dangerous times, and what will become of Christina?

In honesty, this is a classic in relative terms. It takes first an appreciation of the weirder end of European erotic horror in the 1970's, and then of Franco and his somewhat unique style. It's Franco through and through, full of dramatic zooms, intense close ups, out of focus shots and eccentric compositions. But it also has a most compelling drive, regard for coherent plot and character is lax throughout and I wouldn't exactly call it tight but the plot really barrels along. It isn't too difficult to grasp as a whole (there's a clue in the title!) and each scene feeds into the next in a quite linear and satisfying fashion. There's an effective, genuine weirdness to it all, not just in the idiosyncratic execution, it could have been made by any old conventional hack and still been pretty weird. The weirdness of the substance and the weirdness of the style complement and entwine, enriching each other.

Of course there are some joys direct from the style, lyrical images that seem at times to spring straight from the mind to the screen, pure, unbound or tainted by plot, character, sanity or anything else. Franco's penchant for sleaze is present too, but in service of the film rather than overwhelming it. Fair bit of nudity, bit of nastiness, but pretty restrained by his post 60's standards. The women are gorgeous, Franco regular Howard Vernon is his usual good creepy self and there's a great, weird score (includes electronic bird noises in one scene) from Bruno Nicolai. This is obviously for pretty select audiences, but if you have any interest in the field and haven't given it a go yet, you really really should.

Challenge of the Apes - Final Recap & Discussion












Maurice celebrates the Challenge of the Apes finale. And it was good! We had a grand time monkeying around and I learned a few things - like Smerd is an even bigger Ape fan than I am. It was exciting to see so many of us immerse ourselves in the Ape universe. Here's how the final results stacked up:

beatnik (moi) - 5775 points - Makes me Caesar - Long live the King!
SethYeah - 5658 points - he never delivered on the promised monkeyfucking but Seth nearly took Caesar's crown.
Smerd - 5253 points and Smerd definitely gets the Orangutan Award by reading 29 consecutive issues of Marvel's POTA comic.
India - 3074 points - India bounced all over the place gathering points here and there like a true monkey!
Box-a-Hair & sidekick @der - 3018 points - they cut a solid swath through both universes.
Foz - 2381 - and Fozzie may have been the only one of us to actually score off the Marmoset song.
peeps - 2214 points - She deserves an extra bonus for suffering through the Kong musicals.
JohanWOW - 1311 points and that was all achieved in the first two weeks.
Ballz - 1295 points - took a couple of long pauses but came back strong at the end.
barkingBaphomet - 1016 points from a varied list of movies and one classic Spidey show.
troma - 881 points without entering either universe!
NoseOfNicko - 471 points - for a late starter, nicko did alright.
Gymnopedie - 91 points from boggy Creek

Thank you all for participating. I hope everyone had as much fun monkeying around as I did. Tell me what you liked and didn't like. Did you miss FTV points? Did you like that points were based on minutes instead of movies watched? Did you like the reading bonus? Will you be back next July for .... The Animals Amuck & Disaster Flick Challenge or would you prefer something else? Do you know all the lyrics to "Dr. Zaius! Dr. Zaius!" ???

Mama's Boy - a short story

(This a story I wrote years ago. I've gotten better since then! Promise! Anywayz, just thought I'd post it here, on the off-chance that some of you may get a kick out of it.)


Walter had always loved to dote on his mother, ever since he was a boy. Fatherless from an early age, he took it upon himself to be the man of the house - her provider and protector. When she'd fallen ill, he dropped out of medical school immediately, less than a month until completion, to care for her. Her illness brought with it not just a sense of immeasurable sadness, but also inadequacy — an inability for Walter to fully perform what he felt was his most important duty in life. Despite his efforts, he was unable to ease either her physical pain or her emotional anguish. When she had strength to talk, her words came out in a raspy whisper, each word dripping with a morbid finality that only the terminally ill can truly affect. Walter couldn't bear the thought of her leaving him, yet couldn't bear to see her live in such a way.

Ironic then, that his mother's death solved both problems.

• • • • •

"Breakfast, Mother."

Walter was sprightly as he opened the curtains. She had taken a physical downturn after passing on — a bluish tinge to her skin, slight flesh atrophy here and there; simple bedsores had grown to some nasty lesions and of course a touch of stiffness in the joints. But her awareness and vitality had in part returned, and although still bed-ridden she was remarkably animated for a corpse. When she barked "MEAT! MEAT!" at him, sure it sounded like she was hocking up phlegm, but there was an energy there that was totally at odds with the life-less shell she'd been before she was actually lifeless.

And when she ate! Ravenously wrenching chunks of steak or pork chop from his hands with the strength of a pit-bull! Of course he'd tried introducing vegetables into her diet, but these inevitably wound up on the floor or on him. Walter didn't mind. He was just glad she was here with him. Exclusively carnivorous and undead she may have been, but those early weeks after her death were among the happiest of Walter's life. Feeding her Mongolian lamb, wiping hoi-sin sauce and garlic off her chin, having one-sided conversations where he reminisced about his childhood while she drooled and grunted. Although gaining strength daily, she was still entirely bedridden which suited Walter fine. Even at medical school - learning to analyse, operate, heal, cure, save lives — he'd never had such purpose to his life.

Of course, the good times had to end. Walter's life had again and again proved to him that his happiness would only ever be temporary so he was only mildly surprised when one day, in a particularly ravenous moment of frenzied hunger, his mother chomped her teeth down so suddenly on her chicken Maryland that she took the tip of his right middle finger with it. As he clutched the bleeding digit, his mother looked greedily at him as she licked blood off her lips and growled primally.

• • • • •

"Lunch, mother."

It hadn't been a difficult decision really. Mother was hungry and she now rejected all the meat he prepared for her, snapping her teeth wildly at any part of him that came close to her. For Walter, this constituted a basic equation, with only one solution.

For the first time in his life, his obesity would be a positive. His weight had been the object of ridicule all of his school life, and had denied him any female attention later. But now it meant that his mother's new preferred diet could be provided in abundance.

He still had plenty of his mother's medication for her illness, painkillers without equal. Knocking back two pills with a glass of milk, he'd gotten straight to work. Though he had only light, sparse hair on his belly, he'd shaved it anyway. It wouldn't have been right to ask his mother to eat a meal dotted with charred stubble.

It was slow work getting a decent sized steak from his left side. Although the knife was sharp, he'd had to go inch by inch over a period of two hours to give himself plenty of time to stem blood flow between slices. There was too much responsibility resting on his shoulders to risk weakness from excessive blood-loss. He'd come to the conclusion halfway through the impromptu surgical procedure that body-parts that could be tourniqueted would probably make the process much easier. He kept at it anyway. This was, after all, a learning experience.

At the end off this long and arduous ordeal, he had finally prepared a nice-sized slab of medium-rare Walter sirloin, lightly seasoned with sea salt and rosemary, with a crispy and aromatic layer of skin on top.

Clutching his left side, Walter entered his mother's room to find her eagerly awaiting him, her longing gaze focussed intently on the plate he carried. The enthusiasm she exhibited devouring the meal brought a tear to Walter's eye.

• • • • •

"Dinnertime, Mother."

The words were muttered weakly as Walter stumbled toward his mother's bed on his makeshift crutch. His chemical-addled brain dealt with a swarm of mixed emotions. This was, after all, the final meal he would serve.

The timing couldn't have been better. Mother's health had finally reached a level where she could fend for herself, just as the last of the painkillers had been used. Walter had tried to keep himself well nourished to provide for his mothers needs, but the level of damage he had inflicted on himself was such that he could continue no longer.

His left leg was gone from mid-thigh down, the femur jutting out from below the tattered flesh. It had served well for several days of meals. Both his buttocks provided a number of tasty rumps, which his mother had especially enjoyed. Several fingers had been the victims of bolt-cutters — deep-fried and served in chilli sauce as a midafternoon snack. Plus an assortment of cutlets here and there had also been required for her recovery. It had been worth it though. Looking at the healthy state his mother now enjoyed, Walter smiled broadly. Rather, he smiled on the inside. Smiles were no longer possible, as his lips, cheeks and the rest of the flesh from his lower face had been painstakingly removed with a scalpel and lightly sautéed with some ginger, soy and lime juice. His joy now manifested itself as a gory, leering rictus.

Propping his back against the headboard, Walter sat down in bed next to his mother. She looked at him tenderly and spoke to him, her first real words he'd heard since she had died and the last words he'd hear before he died: "You've taken good care of me Walter. Thank you. Now it's my turn to take care of you."

Walter had thought his body would be too weak to produce an erection, but as she unzipped his pants, he hardened instantly. As she took him into her mouth, a feeling of absolute relaxation swept over him. He knew that this was her way of thanking him, by giving him this moment of intimacy that he had never shared with another. As she worked him expertly, tears sprung to his eyes to run down the exposed muscle of his face and drip into her hair, his remaining fingers clutched at the bedsheets frantically as his climax approached and pleasure surged through him. When the moment of orgasm arrived, and he exploded into his mother's mouth, pure ecstasy engulfed his being, and he knew there could be no greater way to spend his final moments. His soul was full to the brim with unconditional love. No pain, no fear and no regrets.

So great was his pleasure, that he barely felt a thing as the teeth closed together on the base of him, his blood mingling with his semen in the mouth of his life-giver. His penis had served its purpose, so it only seemed natural that his mother, its sole beneficiary, should keep it inside her. As she swallowed and gazed up at him, Walter just continued smiling.

He smiled as fingernails sunk into his throat and tore outwards, warm wetness splashing onto his chest.

He smiled as teeth tore into the flesh of his belly, tongue probing his intestines.

He smiled as dizziness surged over him and his vision grew hazy.

He smiled as he looked down at his mother, seeing pieces of himself torn away to slide down her throat.

He smiled. Happy that he could die as he'd lived, providing for his mother, and being what he'd always desired to be. A good son.

Prelude to a Dirty Soap

Last year, I told myself I wanted to write a book. I started writing some... then scrapped it. I started over, and finished the story, and I came back to this little bit of writing I attempted back then, which is vaguely in tune with both the the beginning and ending of the story. Without further adieu, I present a prologue for the story, for anyone interested.

If you can fake control, then do you have control? Take a minute to think about it. You're a smart, resilient individual, are you not? You can survive anything if you just stop and take a minute to think about whatever it is you're doing, before you do it. That's being aware of action and consequence. Karma is a bitch, and we all know what comes around goes around. You have to be a good person, because that's the key to being happy.

It really is that simple, but as human beings, we're known to complicate things. We complicate our lives with things that don't matter. We compromise our integrity so we can build the perfect world around us, and in retrospect, it always seems so empty. We wonder why it isn't enough. Where did we go wrong? We sacrifice our souls for mass-produced machinery to feed our ego, because we need something more. We need something we can never find. We need.

They say money can't buy happiness, but it can. Most people just can't find the right outlet, because they're looking for it in a material possession. Happiness is love. We have to love each other, because we're all we've got. Neglect us and we become something worse. We become horrible people.

We try to hide it, but there's no hiding from what you feel in your bones to be true. We as a species can do horrible things to one another. We get sick and twisted because we don't understand what real love is. True love can seem like a fairy tale, so we fake that too. We can learn to fake a lot of things. We convince ourselves that we love something, even if it's what we do, and even if we do heartless, lonely, really bad things.

People distract themselves from their thoughts, because they know that deep down, we're all going to die, and never come back. I know, I know... it's a harsh reality and a bleak outlook, and that's exactly why we avoid it. Remember that whole "you're a smart, resilient individual" bit? Well, that's not true. I was simply appealing to your senses, as any good horoscope would do. You're going to die, and be forgotten, because no one lives forever.

No one sees the supernatural. You always just missed it. If it happens, it happens to someone else, and you're not there. No one saw Jesus come back. No one living, anyway. We have to go on faith, because the good book says so. The good book that's been rewritten so many times...

I'm not here to insult Christianity or any religion, for that matter. Believe what you want, but don't shove it down anyone's throat, and don't base it off 1950s sci-fi. Then again, no one knows with certainty that they're right and you're wrong. The truth about death is empty. There simply is no truth about it.

People have been searching for the meaning of life for ages. Really, there is no meaning, and we're just here to make up our own meaning. On our own, and all alone. You don't have to be a hippie to know that violence and war isn't the answer. Yet somehow, we're expected to overlook the nihilism of mother nature and believe in something greater... that life is worth living, and everyone deserves a chance. Even you.

We all dream about the pursuit of happiness. Go after whatever you want, while you still can. Yet, people conveniently forget to love each other because they get greedy. They hone in on their pride. Empathy is necessary. One has to understand that people have feelings. People hurt. Most of us will never know what true love is, and we will always feel alone. Want to know something ironic? The world is growing smaller every day.

In mass-production and overpopulation, it's surprisingly easy to find yourself more alone than ever, since people don't connect the way they used to. Cell phones and the internet have turned us all into zombies. The more people we have, the more nameless we become, and the more we fall from grace. We become the people without love--the trolls who ruin it for everyone else because they can't understand what love is.

As any good D&D nerd would know, there's a big difference between intelligence and wisdom. You're allowed to be dumb as fuck so long as you're reasonable. No one is perfect. Everyone makes mistakes, including you. We're all flawed, and we all have issues.

Stereotypes exist because trends exists. Intolerance exists because of ignorance. You're no better than anyone else, and karma will eat you alive if you let it. Again, we already know this, but we don't always listen. Humans are a stubborn, arrogant breed by nature, and while morality is good to a degree, sometimes, you need to let it go. Sometimes, you need to party. Like the world is going to end, and you need to know you're alive.

You can't live in fear, or it only gets worse. No one lives forever, and all you can do is hope that someone remembers you in this point of history. Which is to say, the history that no one can truly confirm or deny due to the fact that we we're never going back there except in our dreams. In our memories.

What are our memories, if nothing more than a collection of increasingly distant thoughts that peak our interest, pulled from our infinitely complex bio-computer of human brain that we as a species still don't fully understand? Well, be that as it may, we define our nature by what we learn in life, and there's nothing better than a good story to teach us a new way of looking at life.

We need the auteurs to show us the way. We need to fake control, and take the reigns. We need to let go of everything and make life our bitch. If we can't go back to yesterday, whose to say we can't redefine it? In this day and age, nothing can be proven anymore. Anyone can go online and photoshop the facts, and if anyone can do it, then what is the real truth?

Act the part and you become the part. Pick a bad role, and you become a bad character. Critics will beat you down no matter how hard you try. Lose yourself, and forget the haters. It only matters if you let it. Now's the time to make a change, and embrace a new day. It's time to be fashionable, rock the world, and fall in love.

I've burned too many bridges, and here I am, about to burn one more. I have to let go of my morality, only for a moment, to do a terrible thing... but after tonight, I'll never look back. The plan wont fail. I'll do this one thing, and I'll be rich. Then, I can do anything. I'll be set for life, where I can make my own American dream, and have control. I'll be fashionable. After tonight, I can be whoever I want to be, and I can do anything in the world, for the rest of my life...

To be clear, none of this is going to be IN the book. This is only a quasi-relevant outtake, and it should probably be burned. 😐

Most disturbing body horror scene

I have ever seen was the boil/goiter/growth on the redneck''s neck at the end of Easy Rider.


🤮

It looks 100% real to me, which is why it makes me want to dry heave, yet I was fascinated by it when I first saw the movie a few weeks ago. Deadandburied's post reminded me about it.

Oh, God No... RIP John Dunsworth

Holy hell... I just read that John Dunsworth, who played Jim "The Liquor" Lahey on Trailer Park Boys has died!

This truly breaks my heart, as he was an amazing part of the Trailer Park Boys legacy. He played a drunk bastard trailer park supervisor for over 15 years, and he was so much fun to watch.

I'm gonna get drunk as fuck tonight, boys... 2017 can go fuck itself.

😥😥😥 RIP 😥😥😥

The Skeleton Key (2005)

Any love for this one? I thought it was such a fantastic movie, i knew it was good beforehand (rewatch) but i forgot just how amazing it actually is and i don't usually dig supernatural horror flicks.

The Babysitter (2017) ... What a blast!

When you think about who directed this movie, you laugh. "McG" directed this, and we can't take a guy with a name like that seriously now, can we? He directed Terminator: Salvation, for fuck's sake! While he always struck me as a bit of a tool, I guess his heart was in the right place. Here, with Netflix's new Friday the 13th release "The Babysitter"... he might have finally redeemed himself!

So here we have a 12-year-old protagonist, who's a bit of a loser. He sucks at life, but at least his babysitter is hot as fuck. No, really! She seems too good to be true, and she absolutely is!

This movie is kinda goofy, kinda meta, and definitely violent. But if I'd describe it as anything... this movie is fun. I was thoroughly engaged, and while I normally hate kids as the lead actors in movies, I thought this kid was alright. Still, that babysitter was mighty fine... Plus, Bella Thorne plays a psycho cheerleader, so that's always a plus. Then, there's also a girl his same age who looks a lot like Chloe Grace Moretz. Just needed to be said...

What a movie though! Recommended.

RIP Sean Hughes

The Irish stand up comedian, writer and actor has died of liver failure aged 51. Probably best known for being a team captain on music comedy quiz Never Mind the Buzzcocks, he was also in a few films inc The Butcher Boy & The Commitments and briefly had his own sitcom.

He was well known to enjoy a hedonistic lifestyle, and kept his sense of humour until the end - "I went to the hospital with my psoriasis. They gave me a DVD of The Singing Detective and said "Good luck with your life"."

Town Without Pity: The History Of The Toxic Avenger



Yeah. Troma isn't really what it once was, is it? Nowadays it seems like they only pick up random garbage that nobody else is interested in. And this problem goes back well over a decade. Whatever notoriety they still enjoy is certainly not due to anything they've done lately. Kaufman or Non-Kaufman. I'd go so far as to say 2011's Father's Day is currently their last hurrah. Where did it all go wrong, you ask? Well, don't ask me. I'm not here to figure anything out, today. But we are going to revisit a better time in Tromaville. The very beginning of Troma's peak, actually. Before movies like Terror Firmer, before Redneck Zombies, and even before the timeless Deadly Daphne's Revenge. The one that is responsible for every bit of popularity Troma has experienced. Lloyd Kaufman's own Mickey Mouse. This is The Toxic Avenger!

It's just so perfectly cheesy in every way a bad 80's movie should be. Starting off in a New Jersey health club full of dumb fucks, pumping iron to that gloriously stupid song. We notice retarded looking mop boy, Melvin Ferd, who gets under the skin of two couples in a hot tub, who I'm guessing are Lloyd Kaufman's idea of asshole teenagers. The leader, Bozo, almost ends Melvin, but instead decides to have his meltdown in private. Much like many Tromaville citizens, these four are full of hate. One indication being the little game they play, later that night, where they go around running over people with Bozo's car. A pointless, but priceless scene just to confirm who the dicks are, I guess.

Of course, Tromaville is full of dicks. These four teenagers are just a tip of the ice berg. The toxic waste capital of the world lives up to its name in every way. Good people like Melvin Ferd are shat upon, while people like Bozo, and the 400 pound crime boss-Mayor, Peter Belgoody, are kings. Bozo and friends are still mad at Melvin, and come up with a plan to stick it to him once and for all, by humiliating him in front of the entire Health Club. I figure there would have been quite a few ways to do so, but leave it to Bozo to pick the right one. A plan that would change the course of Tromaville history forever...

Bozo gets his girlfriend, Julie, to seduce Melvin, who has clearly never even felt a boob. Well, one thing leads to another, and Melvin ends up kissing a sheep in front of everyone, leading to an eruption of laughter which follows him as he tries to escape the nightmare. Melvin is so desperate to get away from this unexpected ridicule, that he ends up taking a dive out the window, landing in a barrel of toxic waste, which was in the back of a truck, occupied by careless cokeheads. The laughter doesn't cease. As Melvin catches fire, he runs home to take a bath which is totally reasonable, considering. I'm guessing it was the water mixed with the toxic waste that did it, but at this point, Melvin transforms into a green, muscle-bound freak, who we later discover to have an uncontrollable compulsion to destroy evil, which means about 80% of Tromavlle is pretty much fucked.

We are then treated to a handful of some rather gruesome beatdowns. Most probably favor the taco restaurant scene, where the one guy says "always did wanna cornhole me a blind bitch". The blind bitch is Sarah, and she remains uncornholed thanks to Melvin, who decimates the bad guys in seconds, and gets a hot new girlfriend for his trouble. Melvin's first girlfriend. They fall in love, as the obviously low maintenance Sarah comes to live with Melvin at the dump. Melvin has it all, now. A girlfriend who can't see him, a hometown that's getting nicer and nice to live in, and most importantly, a purpose. Although misunderstood by some, Melvin only kills evil, and he is currently working on those hit and run pricks from earlier. However, that fat slob of a mayor is smart enough to know his days are numbered if he doesn't do something about this "monster hero" fast!

Never mind the mainstream appeal. Never mind the influence on future Troma and non-Troma B-movies. Simply put, The Toxic Avenger is everything that's great about the 80's B-movie and 80's Horror. A film which represents the decade every bit as much as a movie like Return Of The Living Dead. It's just fun, and fun is what the 80's were all about. However, our fun got pissed on a few years later with the release of two movies that was originally meant to be one. The Toxic Avenger 2 and 3 ruined our lives forever, or at least until Citizen Toxie saved the day, many years later. It's still unclear as to whether or not the Toxie franchise has already come to an end. Although I wouldn't mind if it ended with part IV, as it was a higher note than anyone probably expected. But most of us favor the grittier original above all. And rightfully so. The Toxic Avenger was a special movie from a special time, which breathed life into a B-movie company that probably never stood a chance, otherwise. So, for anyone wondering why Melvin Ferd's ugly mug has to appear on just about every piece of Troma merchandise, well, he earned it! 7/10



#Review