The Lair of the Distorted Kiwi

MARATHON MINUS 8 DAYS AND COUNTING

Ever had one of those moments where you go from “YES!” to “God-dammit!” in mere seconds? Y’know, mis-read the lottery numbers and briefly thought you were a millionaire, only to realise you were still broke, and would have to face returning to work on Monday while desperately hoping your meagre paycheque would stretch to payday?

That’s how I felt when the first 24-Hour Marathon announcement of ’09 appeared. It was on! It was the tenth anniversary, and Ant was going to ensure it was the biggest, baddest, brain-melting-est of them all! Oh, and it was probably going to be the last one.

Fuck. I felt like someone had given me a kitten for Christmas, then casually mentioned that they were going to drown it on Boxing Day.

It turned out that V, the major sponsor for the last few years, had pulled their funding. (presumably citing the Global Economic Meltdown, as everyone else has been doing recently.) The show was to go on, but would be costing Ant a ton of moolah. And so, he was going to go out in a blaze of cinematic glory and pull the plug.

The reaction from the Filmheads on the 48 Hours message board was as predictable as it was swift. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, calls to boycott V’s delicious-but-ambiguously-flavoured beverage and calls to start looking for a new sponsor ASAP (I mooted Red Bull… if they can pay for Formula One cars, one little film show would be a drop in the bucket. And I can’t STAND Red Bull.) And then something appeared on the Marathon News page…

It was a still from Disney’s “Alice in Wonderland”. Alice and… a knight. A White Knight.

Ant had found a new sponsor.

And so, the V Movie Marathon was no more. From its ashes rose the Vendetta Movie Marathon, sponsored by Vendetta Films, an online DVD retailer. Even better, Vendetta had offered a two-year commitment, meaning that not only was this years show in the bag, I could already start planning for 2010! (Okay, I’ll give it a couple of months. All right, weeks.)

So with the nerd-herd placated, it was time to fire the big announcements out onto Facebook. The first premiere was to be [REC 2], sending me on a dash to find the original. I meant to watch it earlier this year, but it’s been a busy year for me. As mentioned in last years review, we have a new baby in the house. Who’s now a crawling, dribbling toddler who can go from a standing start to yanking the cats tail on the other side of the room in about 9/10ths of a second. For a while there, I was watching movies in 20 minute bursts, quite often finishing them 2 days after I first put the DVD in.

Secondly, my new job of wine telemarketing has taken the usual course for any telemarketing job. A few weeks of training, a few months of enjoying the new working environment, followed by a year of learning to hate pretty much every human being in the country. Silly me, expecting people who are in a telephone-based wine club to actually treat the telemarketers like anything more than a psychic, (“Don’t you know not to call during Coronation Street!”) gullible, (“I’m in a meeting!” Really, then why can I hear cows? Are they in the meeting too?) annoyance. (*CLICK* Yep, thanks for hanging up on me, asshole.) And so, the last few months before the Marathon has become a grind, leaving me updating my C.V and preparing to head out into a weak job market to find something less irritating.

It took me three days to watch [REC], too. Because I had to watch it alone. Dawn still refuses to watch horror movies at night, you see. I watched most of it in two short bursts, then held off what I thought was the much-talked about ultra-scary final fifteen minutes. It had been creepy enough as is. Doubly so after the neighbours cat took an unexpected stroll across the living room roof. At midnight, with the lights off. Furry bastard. The next day I flipped it back on, only to discover the flick was only 70 minutes long. Ninety seconds later, the credits were rolling.

Good film.

The other movie announced was ZOMBIELAND. (Two new zombie flicks in one year? I hope Ant spaces them out.) This one is apparently a zom-com, ala. SHAUN OF THE DEAD. I’m avoiding watching the trailer or reading any reviews of the film, wanting to go in cold.

After a slow start to ticket sales there was suddenly unexpected news. The Marathon had sold out for the first time ever! (Probably aided by the fact that Wellingtons’ show was once more a no-go, due to the capitals sluggish reaction at the box office.) The “House Full” sign caught one of the newer members of the Bad Movie Crew by surprise. Campbell Cooley, actor, director and holder of a DBA (Doctorate in Boob Appreciation) had joined the Crew this year. Luckily, a week later Ant announced that there were a last few precious tickets up for grabs. Campbell is now locked in for his first 24-Hour ‘Thon. Fresh meat! Fresh meat! One of us! Gobble, gobble, one of us! The regulars of the B-Movie Crew are well represented, with Dave “Steelpotato” Brough flying up from Wellington. Andrew “Entomocephalous” Todd is joining us from Christchurch, while Aucklanders (and honorary Aucklanders) Steve “Bionicmanenator”Austin, Doug “Fallback” Dillaman, and Cherie “Insert Witty Nickname Here” Nouwens are attending again. Alistair “ATS” Tye-Sampson, who I met for the first time last year is back again… probably a fan for life after getting to see KRULL on the big screen. I helped co-write a couple of shorts for him with Doug, making him an honorary BMC Member, despite not getting to a Bad Movie Afternoon yet. (Probably scared off by Doug’s less-than positive review of ZOMBIE LAKE.) Steve Chow is also set, along with a number of 48-hour film board members I hadn’t met before.

My own ticket situation is a little less clear. Ant had decided to sell the tickets from the 48 Hours website, after finding Ticketek had been charging up to TWELVE DOLLARS as a “Booking Fee” last year. I clicked the link the same day it went live, only to discover it was Credit Card only. I’d cancelled my Visa (okay, VisaS. And the MasterCard.) some years back to curb my spendthrift ways. I quickly fired off an e-mail to Ant. He replied that it was no worries, my seat was assured. I sent back another a week later, asking if he wanted cash in advance, or if I should bring a briefcase full of money to the show. (The tickets are NZ$65 this year, so maybe a camera case would suffice.) Ants reply was exactly the same. I’ve saved you a seat, nothing to worry about. No mention of payment options. He’d comped me from 2003 to 2007 in exchange for these lengthy reviews, but I purchased my ticket in ‘08 after hearing that these days were eating into his pocket regardless of ticket sales. Now, a week out, I’m still unsure as to whether I’m getting a free pass or not.

This has been further complicated by a piece of breathtaking corporate BS from my place of employment, the net result of which was losing over $100 a fortnight in commission. (Which was then re-added to my bank account later, only to be consumed by mortgage payments. Don’t ask.) By the time the Marathon screens, I’ll be lucky to scrape up half of the ticket price. Oh well, if the bank account is dry, I’ll have to write a more-glowing review than usual. (“Ant was looking great… tanned, trim and terrific. Woman wanted him, men wanted to be him…”)

On second thoughts, I’ll just take him a bottle or two of good wine and hopefully we’ll call it even.

The 2009 Movie Marathon Mixtape was completed early, and 20 or so copies have been burnt. It’s been on high rotation for me already, being my favourite disc since the inaugural 2006 edition. I’ve even given it a “theme” this year… that being “A Night at the Hollywood”. The CD starts off with a Wurlitzer Intro (an old ragtime version of The Charleston I found on a very anorak-y Wurlitzer fan-site), rolls into a trailer right off the bat and even has an intermission. It’s “The Theme From A Summer Place”, which for me is the ultimate 1970’s intermission music. I’m also happy with some of the more obscure tracks I found. As well as an 80’s punk track used in THE HIDDEN, I managed to track the soundtrack to THE HOLY MOUNTAIN. My internal filtering system prevented me from using the more “avant-garde” (read “Batshit crazy”) tracks in favour of a more melodic one. A blaxploitation website also had a rip of the theme to THE BLACK GESTAPO. Took me six years to find it, but it’s on there.

Thankfully, a month or so before the show, Telecom (very quietly) announced that speed limits on uploads were being raised. (After the “Super-fast, UNLEASHED broadband!” fiasco that pretty much crashed the entire country’s Internet a few years back.) This meant I could at last put the 2006-2008 discs online for those who’d missed out. I also ran off a complete back-catalogue for regular attendee Glen Blomfield, who, despite missing out on them each year, referred to them as “legendary” on Facebook. I like flattery.

And so, I’m pretty set for the ‘thon. Seven days and change and counting. To quote BREAKIN’, there’s no stopping me!

MARATHON MINUS 5 DAYS AND COUNTING

I nearly stopped me.

Blame it my new-found Fatherhood Gene, which allows you to make stupid decisions pretty much at will. The Sunday before the show, both Dawn and I had the day off for Labour Weekend, letting us have some family time. Mid-morning, Aiden spontaneously started pressing the PLAY button on one of his musical toys and dancing along on his knees like a background extra in Fraggle Rock. “Get the video camera!” Dawn said. I bounded upstairs, grabbed the camcorder and shot back, vaulting the child safety gate at the bottom of the stairs in my haste to get the shot.

The ceiling ABOVE the child safety gate is a very solid wooden beam. At five-seven, I’ve never worried about it before. Do you see where this is leading?

The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor with blood dripping into my lap, while Dawn dashed for a towel and an ice-pack. I even did that clichéd head injury thing where I said “I’m fine, I’m fine!” and tried to stand up. The net result was a combination of a long cut, a good-sized scrape and a decent-sized lump on my melon. No concussion, thankfully. I have now resolved to STEP over the gate. Or hell, even open it instead.

The major problem this posed for me was my usual pre-Marathon haircut. It’s currently on hold until my head heals up a little more. I’ll be a little more hirsute than normal this year.

MARATHON MINUS 2 DAYS AND COUNTING

A new announcement in the last few days. The start time, tentatively set at 4PM, has been pushed back to 3PM instead. The end time is possibly around 5PM. Our 24-hour filmfest just hit 26 hours. That’s a combination of awesome and intimidating. It also means anyone printing out this review will need to make it a hardcover.

My preparations have been less organised than usual this year. I’m in the BYO seating section, but haven’t managed to secure a beanbag yet. (And with my available funds bottoming out quickly, probably won’t.) At this stage it looks like I’ll be dragging my old campchair out of storage for the first time since the ’04 show and setting it up way the side of the stalls to avoid blocking peoples view. My biggest problem this year isn’t seating, though. It’s my torch. I spent a few hours trying to charge it up. Zippo. It’s dead. Useless. A paperweight. My second option was a Winnie-the-Pooh torch purchased as a gift for my niece. (Turned out she already had one.) This is ALSO not functioning. I think my notes are going to be even less readable than usual. (Not to mention that my watch battery died a few months back, and I never replaced it. Expect approximate times throughout the review.)

My “training regime” of genre films has been pretty good, however. I sourced a number of flicks screened in Marathons past, and ran through them over a fairly packed ten days or so. BOARDING HOUSE was somehow LESS coherent than it seemed at the ’02 show, despite watching it wide awake and not buzzed on too much sugar and caffeine. FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE was still great, but brutal in the cold light of day. And BONNIE’S KIDS was something of a chore to get through. One the other claw, THE BLACK GESTAPO is still a fantastic (if cheap) watch and GODZILLAS REVENGE is batshit crazy. (And refuses to end, to boot.)

And in an effort to make the last 7 years go full circle, I’ll be trying to fit in at least part of REVENGE OF THE CHEERLEADERS the night before the show. Unless Hasselhofs dinky scares me off.

The Cooler Bag of Delights was originally going to be tossed aside for the Chilly Bin of Value Snacks this year. I’d planned on a sandwich or two, a bowl of cereal for the morning if I can work out the milk/sugar/utensils logistics, a few plain biscuits and two frozen water bottles. In the end, the whole lot fit comfortably into the Cooler Bag. Hopefully I’ll have a bit of pocket change for something hot on the Sunday morning. (Yes, I’m really THAT broke this year. I expect to be schmoozing sugary treats off the BMA Crew in exchange for their CD’s.)

I also put together a twin-pack of Matua Valley wine for Ant. (2007 Ararimu Chardonnay, a double-gold medal winner and 2007 Bullrush Merlot, which is excellent.) The Street Value of the wine was exactly the same as the Ticket Price. If it doesn’t get me in the door, at least I’ll have something good to drink while I wait for an opportunity to sneak in the back.

The video camera is charged up, even though I didn’t do anything with last years footage. I’m as good an editor as I am a cinematographer, it seems. Maybe I’ll send the lot to Andrew Todd afterwards and let him stitch it together.

MARATHON MINUS 15 HOURS AND COUNTING

Well, we’re pretty much as set as we can be. It’s time to check out a snippet of RotCheerleaders, crash out and get ready to have our minds blown.

Bring it on.

MARATHON DAY!

Prologue: The Long Walk and the Lamington of Deception

Saturday, the 31st of October, 2009. A nice spring day in Auckland. I was up at 8AM, thanks to Aidens new morning regime of an early start, followed by a morning nap. This gave me around seven hours sleep, thanks mainly in part to my classic inability to label my DVD boxes correctly. In other words, I couldn’t find REVENGE OF THE CHEERLEADERS. I watched the last half of THE THING instead, having fallen asleep in front of the TV watching it a few night back. (1AM movies with toddlers in the house just don’t work, folks.)

My packing was completed the moment Dawn turned on my “broken” torch. It worked perfectly. Must have needed a womans touch. She also gave me a $20 bill from the “gas and essentials” fund with instructions to get a Lotto ticket and use a little for snacks. Not the whole lot, of course. Even though I’m pretty good at that.

I dressed for comfort, not fashion as always. T-shirt and shorts, with a pair of tracksuit pants and my still-hanging-in-there V Pyjama top in the backpack for warmth.

I had actually planned to meet up with the B-Movie Crew and 48-Hour Film Messageboard attendees around 1 in the afternoon. The doors weren’t due to open until 2:30, but this would give us plenty of time to shoot the shit, stack the front of the line with regulars, and maybe allow my to shoot some “pre-game” footage.

My first big glitch occurred around 12. My mother, who was coming over to baby-sit Aiden, called me. She’d said she be around at 12:30, only to have an old friend call her that morning. I love my mother, but I’ll tell you thing… once she’s on the phone, there isn’t a force on Gods’ green Earth that’ll get her off. One 90-minute conversation later, she was running way behind. The boy was also taking an extended morning nap. My ETA was never going to happen. One o’clock rolled around. No mother, the boy was just stirring. I got him up and fed him. 1:30, he’s fed, I’m practically kicking the walls. 1:40, still no sign of Mum and so we packed the boy into our car and set off, meaning Dawn was going to have to boot it to Avondale and back in order to get ready for work.

Oh well, if you’re going to have a glitch, make it early, right? Nothing else could go wrong, surely.

Of course it could. And don’t call me Shirley.

I was in Avondale just before 2. Ant was outside, snapping photos for the website. The shot of me arriving will be dominated by my huge, nerdy grin. The nerd-herd was already trailing down the road from the theatre. Knowing my compadres, I skirted the queue to see who was right outside the door. Dave “Steelpotato” Brough was of course holding pole position, right up on the steps. (Along with his sister, whose name I always forget.) I said a brief “Hi”, dumped my gear next to him and set off in search of a Lotto shop.

I may have mentioned this before, but Avondale isn’t my favourite suburb. It’s very low-rent, with huge amounts of the stores devoted to money loans and takeaway foods. I headed to where I knew a Lotto shop used to be. It had closed. There was a stationery store further down the street. That had closed, too. Damn you, Global Recession! I kept walking. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Great. I needed local help.

The closest thing was a bakery. I popped in, purchased a cream-less Lamington and asked for directions. The nice lady didn’t think there was a Lotto shop on the main drag, so I’d have to head down Rosebank Road to the service station, and there was one there.

Rosebank Road is LONG, man. I just had to hope the place was close. I set off at a half-walk, half-jog. Nothing whatsoever. I ran out of shops and into houses. I stubbornly kept going. I hit the Avondale racecourse. Shit. I swung left onto Ash Street, hoping that the service station next to the racecourse was the one she meant. It wasn’t. I kept going, hoping I looked like a jogger to the traffic. (The shorts and shirts combo might have worked. The fact I was using a Lamington to boost my energy might have been a giveaway.) This seemed to be the first marathon I’d end with a suntan, however.

By now, I knew the nice lady with the middling English had sent me the wrong way. I was figuring I could always cut back down the next connecting street to Avondale, though.

I was assuming there WAS a connecting street, of course.

Fun fact. There isn’t. Pretty soon I wasn’t just in the wrong area, I was in the wrong SUBURB. Seriously, I was in New Lynn, running a massive, pointless circuit. On the day, I estimated I ran about 5 kilometres, and a quick check of a map this morning proves I was scarily accurate. Now, I don’t jog. I don’t play sport any more. By the time I was heading back up Great North Road to Avondale, I was in pain. My legs had more lactic acid in them than a cow. I could actually see the Lynmall Shopping Center in the distance, but wasn’t detouring any further to get my 1-in-eight-million chance to get rich. Screw it, I’ll get two next week.

And so, I finally made it back to the Hollywood. With 24+hours of sleep deprivation ahead of me, I was exhausted. This was going to be a tough year.

On the other hand, pretty good Lamington.

By this time, the line was all the way down the road. Dave was already inside, so I reclaimed my gear and joined the back of the line. My chance of unslinging the video camera was shot, so I got into a long conversation with a familiar-looking young lady whose name I either never got, or can’t remember. There were plenty of regulars around, and oddly people I recognised from my varied jobs. Andon, aka Red-Dyed Mohawk Guy from one of the North Shore Glengarry’s stores, for instance. (Someone I knew on sight, but had never really talked to. Since the show, I’ve had an animated conversation about the flicks with him and been invited to join his B-flick-loving friends for 70’s grindhouse trash at some stage. I love the Marathon.)

It turned out I was on the Guest List, but I dropped off my vino-related bribery anyway. Besides, it’s the Tenth Anniversary, the guy needs SOMETHING to toast the occasion. We were given wristbands this year in lieu of tickets. Excellent, from a distance I look like I’m being charitable about something. I made it into the auditorium, which was being filled with Wurlitzer music as always. (Apparently, my late entry meant I missed hearing a Wurlitzer version of the Battlestar Galactica theme. Damn.) I stopped to let my eyes adjust, trying to work out where the Crew was at. As I did, a voice from knee level said “Hey, Skeeter!”. It was Doug.

The majority of the Crew had claimed the first row of seating, along with the stage left section of floor space. Annette “Not Ms. Fallback” was there as well, plus David Stuckey (A long-time attendee whose name I finally locked down from Facebook photos after the show. I’m so bad at names.) and “Phil Baby” from the 48-Hour Board. (Admittedly, I only found out who was Phil Baby at the very end of the show.)

Steelpotato and his sis had taken up position in the middle of the floor at Ants feet. Andrew Todd and forum member Cardinal (attending his first show) were front and center at the foot of the screen. The floor was packed, meaning my campchair idea was dead in the water. However, not having seen Cherie, I scanned the usual row in the stalls. And yep, there she was, sitting next to two unfamiliar faces. They turned out to be first-timers, I never got their names, but I can report they performed with distinction, lasting out the entire show.

I distributed CD’s out to the Crew, the 2 newbies in my row and a couple of random people in Alistair’s row. This turned out to be the first year I ran out of discs, so apologies to the Forum member who ran into me at the end of the show. Maybe I’ll make a few more next year.

I joined Cherie in the cheap seats as Margaret finished her set and descended gracefully out of sight. Ants’ entrance was less than graceful, however. He arrived, ducked into the wings and emerged again after a few seconds of muffled banging. (And probably some muffled cursing, too.) Apparently, the stage door was still locked. He scoped out any alternative routes to the stage, but no go. Eventually he announced “Show’s over, thanks for coming!” and headed off to find a key. Like I said, better to get your glitches out the way early, right?

And so, after a minor delay, Ant hit the stage. He told us that some of the flicks tonight were very personal to him, presumably films that really kicked off his collecting bug. But there was one more glitch to tell us about. A pretty major one. For the first time in the decade-long history of the Marathon, a print hadn’t turned up. Not arrived in unplayable shape. Not disintegrated on the reels, as occurred twice last year. Just never made it to the show on time. Which flick?

[REC 2].

I was emotionally torn. On one hand, I really wanted to see [REC 2]. Tempering my disappointment was the knowledge that I no longer had the possibility of screaming like a little girl in public, or being crushed if it turned out to be a lesser effort than the original. And in the back of mind, the frustration that [REC 2] had been lost, but ANACONDA 2 had shown up safe and sound.

It was now just after twenty past three. Time to get the show officially on the road with our now-traditional Film Classic. The lights dimmed, the curtains opened (which I say every time, even though the Hollywood, unlike the Civic, doesn’t HAVE curtains!) and once more, we were a’marathoning!

Part 1: Never Fuck With a Florist
Saturday 15:25-THE SECRET FOUR

I’d like to thank Cherie for the (fairly) accurate start times in this review… she loaned me her watch before the show, thinking she’d stay awake longer if she didn’t know how late/early it was. I repaid her kindness by making dickwad comments like “Wow, it’s not even midnight yet!” for half the show.

We kicked off the long day ahead with a brilliant short film made specially for the occasion. Done in the style of a Russkie propaganda film, it outlined the guidelines for enjoying the show while not making the people around you miserable. The most important rule. Wear Deodorant! (I had. Not long before my 40-minute run. Sorry about that, folks.)

The line up proper began with a piece of Film Noir I’d never heard of. (Bogart’s not in it, you see. Although its alternative title of KANAS CITY CONFIDENTIAL was more than a little familiar.) It’s a tightly plotted Heist/50’s Revenge Flick that made me wonder how many times Quentin Tarrantino had watched it before putting pen to paper. Because the central characters are four career criminals brought together for a job, during which they keep their identities secret via some rather Michael Myers-like masks. Several recognisable names show up, including Lee van Cleef as (no surprise) a villain and Jack Elam, whose lazy eye made me refer to him as “Googly Eye” Pete in my notes.

Things get complicated (as this things tend to do) after the flower delivery man the group sets up as a patsy decides he wants what’s owed to him. And as he’s a former military man and all-around squared-jawed badass, things get ugly pretty damn quick. Throw in a love interest who’s unknowingly connected to the bad guys, a shitload of snappy dialogue and some of the most regular face-punching and bitchslapping of a non-kung-fu-themed Marathon flick and you’re in for a Monochromatically good time.

While some people seemed to prefer last years opener LADY IN A CAGE (probably due to the eye-gouging grittiness of the film) I though this was an excellent opener. You can always tell if a Marathon film is working by the audiences’ reaction. Normally it’s moments of graphic violence or idiotically gratuitous nudity that get the biggest cheers. For this one, it was the excellent dialogue that got us to make some noise. One of the lines was a classic piece of Hayes Code era double entendre directed to the films’ only ‘Woman of Dubious Virtues’, Teresa. She makes some cash on the side at the Tijuana resort selling “souvenirs” for eleven U.S dollars. (A pretty hefty price for earrings in 1952, I’d wager.) When she offers them to our hero, Joe, his ultra-cool reply of “Everyone’s entitled to a few souvenirs” brought the house down. Right up there with Joe Sarnos’ “Vibrations” line from AMERICAN HOUSEWIFE, and probably second only to Bogart and Bacalls “Horse” exchange in THE BIG SLEEP. (“But I like to see them workout a little first, see if they're front runners or come from behind…”) Joes’ sure-fire cure for a nosebleed was a killer, too.

All in all, a nice revisit to the time when men were men, smokes were smoked by everyone, and dames could be sexy, intelligent and not bat an eyelid when you accidentally drop your revolver in front of her. Although I learnt one very important lesson from the flick, too.

Never. EVER. Let the insurance agent comfort the bereaved relatives after a shooting. They’re terribly bad at it.

Running Theme Time!

Good Guys Smoking!: It’s 1952. I think they handed out Lucky Strikes in kindergarten.
Sexism: There was a bit of eyebrow-raising that one female character was a law student. But the other was eye-candy and suggestive. Call it a draw.
Sweaty People: Bug-eyed Pete was pretty moist throughout.
Cool Hats: God, I wish I had more chances to wear my fedora. Awesome headgear.
Betrayal: Multiple. As you’d expect from this genre.
Cracking Dialogue: Hell yes. See above.

Skeeters’ Summary: Another good chance to see something with excellent writing, at a time when we’re awake enough to understand it.

I hit up the Candy Bar for a pack of Wine Gums in the break. Props to the Hollywood for not following the major movie chains “You’re Going to Need a Second Mortgage to Afford an Ice-Cream” approach to pricing its snacks.

Part 2: GORESOME!
Saturday, 17:00-ZOMBIELAND

The break between flicks was short, as Ant was aiming for a record-breaking fifteen movies this year. (An ambition that was probably overly-ambitious, and would probably be stymied by any major technical difficulties. Yes, this is foreshadowing.) We cracked straight into the second (and as mentioned, only one that showed) of our Big Two. It’s set for release December 3rd, so I won’t tell you much about the plot.

But trust me, I really, REALLY want to.

It’s a ton of fun, doubly so for zombie flick fans. The basic concept is that The Night/Day/Mid-Afternoon of the Living Dead has come and gone. We’re in the aftermath stage, following one of the least likely survivors across country. He meets up with Woody Harrelson as one of the MOST-likely survivors of a Zombpocolyse. And from then on, it’s laugh-out-loud dialogue, inventive mayhem and one of the best celebrity pisstakes on film.

Sadly, the emergence of the celebrity in question led to our first major technical glitch. I’d popped out to use the facilities after rehydrating excessively following the Long Walk, only to find the theatre in darkness on my return. The sound had gone out, and the projectionist was having to clean the sound heads. This had the unfortunate side-effect of ruining one of the best kills in the film. It also led to the shout of “Rewind it!” from the crowd. To paraphrase Morbo: FILM DOES NOT WORK THAT WAY! This was the start of a number of audio problems throughout the night. Which made a change from the usual film breakages of years past.

But, that minor annoyance aside, the film went down like a house on fire. The crowd ate it up big time. Like DAWN OF THE DEAD, the zombie carnage is contained mainly in the first and last thirds of the film. The middle section is well-written and character-driven… with the occasional bout of gut-munching and zombie-squishing. The whole is fantastically watchable… hopefully multiple times. (Unlike, for me anyway, TEAM AMERICA, which was “The Best Movie EVER!’ at ’04, and is now a flick that barely raises a chuckle. I watch it occasionally, but mainly for the plot and action sequences instead of the gags. That’s fucking odd.)

The film also has the excellent device of THE RULES. There’s a lot of them, designed to help you avoid becoming a Romero-esque Human Niblet, but 3 stood out. (And were quoted endlessly throughout the ‘Thon.) And so, a new Feature will be instituted for the remaining flicks. Did they use the following?

CARDIO?:
DOUBLE-TAP?:
CHECK THE BACK SEAT?:

This flick had the lot, of course

Good Guys Smoking!: Nope, but if Twinkies were ciggies, one characters a major addict.
Sexism: Minor, but Tallahassee is like that to everyone.
Sweaty People: Yes, thanks to Rule 1: CARDIO!
Cool Hats: Ten-gallons of awesomeness.
Betrayal: Several times. You just can’t trust some people.
Cracking Dialogue: 45% power? “You wanna see how hard…?” Yep.

And the return of a long, LONG-running theme:

Horrific Leg Injuries: To the undead, at least. But plenty of other horrific injuries in general.

Skeeters’ Summary: Gore+Awesome=GORESOME! Best flick of the year so far.

Part 3: Badasses, Who Tap Asses.
Saturday, 18:40-ROADHOUSE

We were promised a “tribute film” to a fallen star. I think we all guessed it was going to be Swayze-riffic pretty quickly. I know I was chanting “Please be ROADHOUSE, please be ROADHOUSE” under my breath as Ant left the stage. I mean, would have really hit us with DIRTY DANCING or TO WONG FOO…? (Of course, RED DAWN, POINT BREAK or STEEL DAWN would have been acceptable choices.) But frankly, what better film to salute the Sway-ster with? It’s cartoonishly violent, has some excellent over-the-top villainy, a great blues soundtrack and a monster truck. Yes, the villain owns a monster truck. For no reason whatsoever. Can you hate a movie with an inexplicable monster truck? I can’t. It’s also a Double Tribute film, featuring the late Jeff Healey as… well, Jeff Healey. Sure, his character is called “Cody”, but that’s obviously just a pseudonym to explain how a biker bar in Podunk City, Assend of Nowhere, America can afford to have The Jeff Healey Band playing five nights a week.

And from pretty much frame one, the whole shebang is cloaked in some of the most unexpected homoeroticism ever seen in a testosterone-fuelled beat-em-up. Everyone from the bar staff to the bad guys to the local wildlife seem to have a raging bone-on for our Zen-like Hero. It culminates in one of the best-received Idiotically Badass Line of the 80’s. (The truly awe-inspiring “I used to fuck guys like you in prison!”. Yeah, thanks for sharing, dude.) I’ve seen the film before, and trust me, it’s just as funny the second time around.

Now for those who’ve not seen the film, here’s a brief plot summary. The worlds’ best bouncer (or “Cooler”) is poached to help turn a bar full of brawling rednecks and bikers into neon-lit Meat Market full of over-dressed Yuppies who dance badly to Jeff Healey’s Blind White Boy Blues. The towns resident Evil Capitalist takes an instant and inexplicable dislike to our mullet-topped, Tai Chi-doing “cooler”, people get beat the hell up, things get blown the hell up, Swayze does an ass-shot and there’s a violent finale including a plummeting Polar Bear. Oh, and Sam Elliot turns up, playing… well, Sam Elliot.

Yeah, that’s your lot. For a much better plot summary, go to http://jabootu.net/?p=605
and read the exhaustive write-up there. I’ll just stick to some Burning Questions the flick raised.

**Why is Dalton known as a “cooler”? Is it just cooler to be a Cooler than a Head Bouncer?
**How much money were bars making in small redneck towns if they could afford to pay Dalton five gees in advance, plus US$500/night? In 1980-frickin’-9! Add in to account the three hundred dollars of broken furniture the bar racks up a night, and I’d have to assume they’re selling piss-warm Coors at eighty-five bucks a bottle just to break even.
**Does everyone in this film know Dalton? Sure, he’s a good bouncer, but people in other STATES seem to be in awe of him. I worked at a comedy bar for eighteen months, and didn’t know OUR bouncers’ name. (Other than “The Guy You Don’t Fuck With”.)
**I know stitching up your own knife wounds makes you look badass, but isn’t it frustratingly awkward to get the angle right?
**Are we getting old when a shot of a cassette player being used gets a round of cheering. At least it wasn’t in the 8-track era.
**Doesn’t that huge bouncer look a lot like wrestler Terry Funk? (Answer to my scribbled notes: Yes. It is wrestler Terry Funk. I would have recognised him quicker if he’d been bleeding from a self-inflicted forehead wound.)
**Did Terry Funks character remind anyone else of “Ogre” from Revenge of the Nerds?
**Shouldn’t the Good Old Blues Brothers Boys Band be playing behind the chicken wire cage?
**Can anything stop Jeff Healey from finishing a song once he’s started? (Answer: No. He even plays throughout an entire bar brawl scene without missing a note at one stage.)
**Is Jeff Healey such a good guitar player he can take his hands off the strings, play three chords and puts his hands back, or are they just overdubbing the fuck out of this film?
**If Dalton gets any more cool, calm and relaxed in the midst of this bar fight, is he just going to fall asleep?
**If you’re going to deal drugs to your punters, would it be a better idea to do it on your break like Shag the Customer Guy?
**Instead of paying the Gross Domestic Product of Angola to Dalton, wouldn’t it have made more sense for the bar owner to fire all his obviously useless bouncers and hire two guys who knew what they were meant to be doing?
**Do you think Over-Dressed Slutty Chick could become a plot element later? (And by “Plot Element” I mean “Flash Her Boobs”)
**Is that Bigfoot? Oh wait, no, it’s wearing overalls. Must be a farmer.
**Has “Celebrity Look-alike” become a Running theme? THE SECRET FOUR had a Baldwin-alike, now we have Phoebe Cates Lite as a barmaid.
**If you’re a well-toned, Zen-like bouncer, should your breakfast be a Marlboro Lite and a coffee?
**In fact, is seeing character smoke indoors in older flicks almost as jarring as seeing the Twin Towers in NYC-set movies?
**I’m sure the ladies in the crowd were happy to see it, but did we really need the lingering shot of Patricks rock-hard man-cheeks?
**Was the ass-shot a ‘make-up for all the gratuitous boob-and-muff-shots we’ve had in Marathons past?
**And if so, do we owe the ladies Mel Gibson in LETHAL WEPON for the movie that played right AFTER this one?
**”Be Nice” is the secret mantra of bouncers? I thought it was “Don’t Let the Boss See You Put the Boot In.”?
**Could Crucifix-Wearing Henchman look any gayer without wearing a pair of assless leather chaps?
**Is Not Phoebe Cates going to be the love interest, or just another minor character getting multiple orgasms simply by being in the same room as Dalton?
**Is there anyone that can make wearing a cravat look threatening, not ludicrous. Even when paired with a cool fedora?
**If you’re a villainous Bad Guy with a monster truck, wouldn’t you drive the monster truck around just to justify how much cash you spent on it? Personally, I’d take that thing to the corner dairy to get the milk in the morning.
**How the hell do you manage to renovate an entire bar in three days without any sign of the construction?
**And how did all these Yuppies hear about it so fast? The place should still be full of confused bikers pissing on the neon signs.
**In fact, how the hell does a dustball town like Jasper find enough Yuppies to not only fill the bar, but form a line outside? Did they bus them all down from another state?
**Did anyone else think the bar lost all its character once the chicken wire cage was removed?
**Is there some rule that one extra ALWAYS has to over-dance? I thought one guys arms were going to be launched into space.
**Could the head Bad Guy be LESS subtle about his evil-doing? Not unless he decided to stab a prostitute in the middle of Times Square at mid-day, really.
**Is there such a place as the Silververse? That’s the Joel Silver-run dimension where EVERYTHING has the ability to explode in a humongous fireball if you so much as glance at it. Amish buggies probably go ka-boom if you rear-end them in that place.
**Is this sex scene with the REAL love interest some weird rip on DIRTY DANCING? Or is Pat just acting to the beat of his own drummer right about now.
**Is driving your monster truck through a car dealership in front of 100 spectators a new low in “Unsubtle Villainy”?
**If you own enough explosives to destroy the forest moon of Endor, wouldn’t it be a better idea to blow up your enemy with them? Not his landlord?
**If your explosives can level half a house and yet not even singe the huge, beardy occupant of said house, should you hire a more competent explosive-setting Goon?
**Is Sam Elliot any less than brilliant in any role he plays? (All of which he plays in EXACTLY the same way, no matter who he’s playing or what era the film is set.)
**Has anyone else lost count of the number of fistfights in this flick? (And yet the body count is remarkably low until the last few minutes of the film.)
**Does inferring you’re going to buttrape your opponent in a fistfight count as a “Psychout” or just “Ruining the Mood”?
**In a film this filled with homoeroticism, should you tell Dalton that the only thing missing from your Trophy Room is “his ass”?
**Was I the only one who made the obvious “mounting his ass” joke?
**Are they seriously inferring the bad guy hunted himself a Polar Bear? What did he do, load his monster truck full of shotguns and head to the Zoo?
**In fact, has he shot EVERYTHING that walks the Earth? I swear to God there’s a Woolly Mammoth with an ass-full of buckshot in that room.
**Was Dalton just saved by the Flimsy Excuse Vigilantes?
**Is there such a thing as too much Jeff Healey in a film? (Answer: No.)
**Did I just spend 1,500 words dissecting the plot of ROADHOUSE? I’d like to say I have too much time on my hands, but it just ain’t true these days. I might finish this review in time for next years show. Just.

Good Guys Smoking!: At the breakfast table. Classy.
Sexism: Quite a bit, but only to the Downtrodden Slutty Chick. And the barmaids. And 90% of the women in the flick.
Sweaty People: Fistfights in the Missouri sun can get you a little damp, yeah.
Cool Hats: A variety of Redneck Haberdashery.
Betrayal: Not really, the Good/Evil line in this film is more like a four-lane Highway.
Cracking Dialogue: Unforgettable, if not cracking.
Horrific Leg Injuries: Lower leg damage is practically a plot point.

New Theme!

Mistreatment of the Differently Abled?: Slutty Chick does a striptease in front of Jeff Healey. He’s blind. That’s just mean.

CARDIO?: With all the biffo Dalton gets in, he’s got to be in shape.
DOUBLE-TAP?: To the throat, baby!
CHECK THE BACK SEAT?: Better to check the back room. There’s probably someone boinking in there.

Skeeters’ Summary: All is forgiven for making my sister watch DIRTY DANCING 8,000 times, Mr. Swayze. Rest in Peace.

Part 4: TITS! IN! SPAAAAAAAAAACE!
Saturday, 21:00-FORBIDDEN WORLD

As you may have gleaned from that “Tits in Space” line, we’re into the pretentious art-house section of the show with this subtitled Belgian slice-of-life drama…

Wait, scratch that. We’re actually into the section where Ant tossed us a piece of jaw-droppingly cheap sci-fi that recognises that the cheaper your special effects are, the sooner you better get some underpaid, though attractive actress to get her kit off. The credits didn’t show up until about five minutes into the flick, but I was hardly surprised to see the name “Roger Corman” appear. Mainly due to the opening space battle, recycled (as per usual) from BATTLE BEYOND THE STARS. The second name that leapt off the screen at me was “Story by Jim Wynorski”. Oh boy, the director of RAPTOR and the writer of such gems as CLEAVEAGEFIELD and THE BARE WENCH PROJECT. This flick should be a peach, folks.

I actually did a little research on this flick a few days later. It’s also known as MUTANT, and was one of Wynorskis very first writing gigs in Hollywood. A Google search led me to a trash films website, where Jim himself is a member. He seems extremely self-aware of the quality of his work, and apparently still has a framed MUTANT poster hanging in his den. His only complaint was that the soundtrack wasn’t recorded in stereo… but as he said, even then he knew that asking Corman for extra money for the soundtrack was the pinnacle of pointless ideas.

But back to the movie. It kicks off with the aforementioned space battle. The first sign that this flick was going to be something special was the “Red Alert” noise of our Futuristically Square-Jawed Hero. Instead of blaring sirens and flashing red lights, his spacecraft was filled with soothing classical music and the most mellow reading of the word “Emergency” I’ve heard in years. Presumably this is a future where hearing Yanni playing his pan-pipes means the shit has REALLY hit the fan.

The spaceship is crewed by the most likeable cast member. No, not Square-Jawed Space Hero. S.A.M, his squeaky-voiced Budgetbot, whose head is pretty obviously a Star Wars character mask spray painted beige. S.A.M is efficient, helpful and good with a laser cannon. Predictably this means all the human characters treat her like dirt, continually switch her off in the middle of sentences and leave her standing in corridors for hours on end. By the end of the flick I was hoping she’s go T-1000 on their asses. Her only grating habit was calling Captain Square-Jaw “Sir” all the time. My notes refer to her as the “Marcy-Bot” to Captain Peppermint Patty.

She rouses Captain Square-Jaw from his Suspended Animation chamber to fight off whoever it is that attacked him. (My guess? Space Mormons.) As he comes too, we were treated to a bizarrely Battlestar Galactica-like montage of things we’re about to see as the film progressed. This directorial flourish confused me. I mean, sure it showed that the next ninety minutes would be something along the lines of Boobs/gore/alien/boob/sex scene/gore/boobs/shower scene/gore/boobs/explosions, but let’s face it. Surely if this played in cinemas then the punters had already plonked down their cash for the ticket. Did we really need a “Coming Attractions” montage to keep them in their seats?

If I was confused there, imagine my face when they ended the movie with THE EXACT SAME MONTAGE!

I guess the director just liked montages.

Post-credits, Captain Square-Jaw gets summoned to a Genetic Research base on the ass-end of the Universe. This is staffed by one of the most generic band of Space Misfits you’re going to find. I could look up their names on the IMDB, but really, who cares? They’re written as character types, so let’s list them as such.

INEFFICIENT SPACE STATION COMMANDER

BLOND, CONSTANTLY HORNY WOMAN

BRUNETTE, PIXIE-LIKE, EQUALLY HORNY WOMAN

CHAIN-SMOKING SCIENTIST WITH TOM WAITS HAIRCUT

VOYUERISTIC HEAD OF SECURITY

THE SAXOPHONE-PLAYING BLACK GUY

THE REALLY STUPID SPACE-SURFER DUDE WHO’S OBVIOUSLY GOING TO BE THE FIRST CHARACTER TURNED INTO ALIEN CHOW.

The really sad thing about that list is that if it wasn’t for his futuristic plastic
saxophone, one of those guys would have simply been “The Black Guy” Even in space, the brother is always being held down by the Man. And the Man’s underwritten characters.

Captain Square-Jaw and S.A.M are welcomed to the base (which is apparently constructed from egg-cartons and plastic. It’s a low-budget Universe, after all.) with open legs. Uh, arms. I meant arms. Okay, legs. Apparently Horny Blond Space Chick has a real thing for average-looking white guys. If her Commander wasn’t part of the welcoming committee, I’m pretty certain she’d have had Square-Jaws pants around his ankles before the airlock door was half-way open.

But affairs of the state must come before affairs of the state. So, with S.A.M doing her life-sized paperweight impression in a hallway, the humes whisk Square-Jaw off to a room full of exploded bunnies. You only wish I was making this up. It appears the crews experiment in Genetic Fuckery has created a lifeform that turns small, fluffy animals into small, fluffy piñatas. The Interstellar Idiots have helpfully left the bloody corpses dangling from their cages so Captain Square-Jaw can see the results. What, they don’t have no cameras in the future?

The alien/genetic freak/recycled prop has now formed a slimy little cocoon in the lab. It’s all contained, but as the job of scraping Thumper off the wall gets delegated to Dumbshit Alien-Chow-In-Waiting Dude, we were all pretty sure the big Breakout Scene was coming up. We weren’t disappointed, as the bozo immediately opens up the glass case to get a look at the now-emerging critter. This is probably step 321 on the “What To Do With Hazardous Creatures” checklist. Right after step 320, “Stab Self in Neck With Sharpened Chopsticks to Avoid Your Idiocy Dooming the Human Race”.

Once the Alien is happily eating Dumbshit Kids face we discover that the bases’ Security missed seeing the whole thing on his mammoth one-monitor security bank. Geez, Chad! We give you one job on the Space Station and you pooched even that! Meanwhile, we’re quickly discovering that Wild-Haired (Probably Mad) Scientist Guy is almost certainly the biggest overacter of the night. His major character trait is his ever-present cigarette, which should probably get a Supporting Actor Credit. (I’m pretty sure it got more screen time than the Security Chief.) Science Guy even manages to break all sorts of social mores by puffing away on a butt at a shared breakfast table!

Post-attack, Dumbass Kid proceeds to liquefy into a pleasantly pink goo, causing Science Guy to spout technobabble and smoke even more furiously. This turn of events is unfortunate for Dumbass Kid, but good for the audience, as Cute-a-Button Girl was his main squeeze. Freed from having to date the terminally stupid, she celebrates with an unmotivated nude scene. Your sacrifice is appreciated, Dumbass Kid.

Meanwhile, Jims script pencils in a long sequence involving the cheapest special effects money can buy. Yes, T and A! This gets kind of squicky, as Security Chief Peeping Tom keeps a close eye on Captain Square-Jaw and Blond Chick as they make the Alien With Two Backs in her quarters. He also keeps his hands busy. Not like that, perv-o. He’s playing with an extraordinarily low-tech spinning toy. Geez, A.C is 13 months old and has more sci-fi looking shit than that in his toybox.

Thankfully, Token Black Guy adds a perfect note of hilarity by providing the scenes Make-Out Music on his Perspex sax. Maybe he should have busted out “Yakkety Sax” during the later “running away from the drooling alien” scenes?

Security Perv finally gets off his ass and heads out to investigate the aliens whereabouts. This involves him wandering around darkened hallways for a while. Not wanting us to get bored, the director keeps cutting back to the sex scene in progress. A lot. This near-subliminal nookie was to become a minor running theme, with a couple of other flicks using the same technique.

At length, the Security Chief gets to meet up with the rapidly expanding and somewhat toothy alien. Hooray, two useless characters down! And somehow the Black Guy still survives! That’s refreshing.

As you can tell, it’s a thinly-veiled ALIEN rip-off in progress. With some of the hundreds of other ALIEN rip-offs churned out through the 80’s, it’d be a paint-by-numbers stalk-and-eviscerate plot from here on in. But not FORBIDDEN WORLD, no sir. With a couple of colleagues already horribly slaughtered, Cute-as-a-Button Girl wakes up and decides it’s the prefect time to hit the sauna. Yes, there’s a sauna on a Research Station. This is not only fairly illogical, but obviously nothing more than a cheap, cynical ploy to get an attractive actress nekkid for an extended scene that adds nothing to the plot.

Call me Mr. Misogynist, but I thought it was the best scene in the movie.

Possibly a tie with the two-girl sonic shower scene a half-hour later, though.

Anyhoo, the flick rolls on, getting more and more ludicrous as it does. To save my sanity (and another thousand words or so) I’ll just list a few of the more memorable plot devices.

**Strawberry Instant Pudding IS PEOPLE!
**S.A.M: ”How long have you had cancer, Doctor?” *CLICK* *Power Down*
**The alien is eating the cast. Maybe you should send in S.A.M, who’s the only non-huma..? *CLICK* *Skeeter Powers Down*
**Hey, it’s a Doctor Who gravel pit world!
**Kinda-Zombie Guy Attacks!
**The alien liquefies humans for food, yet has evolved massive fuck-off teeth? Seems like a waste of DNA, somehow.
**Technobabble Level 4 and Rising!
**”I have a great idea! Let’s discuss it at length in the shower!”
**I know how to destroy the monster! With the healing power of CANCER!
**Wait, he’s going to kill it with Cancer?
**His Cancer?
**Seriously?
**Blonde Chick has realised she can communicate with the alien! So let’s do it in a skimpy bathrobe! This may not end well.
**”Please Stand By”. What is this creature, an Intergalactic Phone Operator?
**Ewww. That didn’t end well. Still, she died as she lived. With someone else’s’ appendage buried in her.
**Cute-as-a-Button is in peril! If she gets kacked then the movie has no further interest for me.
**”I’ve just been torn in half, Sir. Don’t bother to power me down, I think I can reach the button with my severed leg.”
**”Quick, cut out my liver. Don’t worry, I’ll talk you through it!”. Anyone else think there’s a flaw in his logic?
**Whoa, must have had that Five-Minutes-To-Live Cancer!
**Now we’re just blowing the budget on fake spew.
**MONTAGE! We need a Montage!
**Cute-as-a-Button Chick Lives! I guess I get a happy ending from this flick.

Good Guys Smoking!: If the alien ate the scientist, it might have died of nicotine poisoning before the halfway point.
Sexism: From the scriptwriter, director and me, I guess.
Sweaty People: Sweaty, sticky and melty.
Cool Hats: No, but a great head on S.A.M.
Betrayal: Nope, but as the alien was more cunning than the cast it’s not surprising.
Cracking Dialogue: “Cracking” means “hilarious”, yeah?
Horrific Leg Injuries: Horrific, yes. And it was CLOSE to her legs. Ick
Mistreatment of the Differently Abled?: Call C.L.I.T.O.R.I.S, that alien is being severely repressed.

CARDIO?: The cast wandered up and down the same corridor enough times for a good workout.
DOUBLE-TAP?: The survival instincts of these bozos means you could give them each a bazooka and I’d still lay odds against them.
CHECK THE BACK SEAT?: The alien puppet was so immobile, it’s better to check around the corner to see where he’s been propped up.

Skeeters’ Summary: A rare delve into sci-fi, and a welcome one. I’ll have fond memories of this turkey for a good while to come.


By now I’d run into most of the regulars, knocked back my first two cans of V and realised my video camera was going to be dead weight, just like my campchair. The place was too full and the breaks were too short to get any decent footage this year. I figured I might get some shots at the breakfast break, but even that was not to be. Oh well, not like I was going to do anything useful with the footage anyway.

It was also the first show in years in which I’d stayed in the same seat for this long. Steve Chow had said he was planning on popping out for a few hours around 3AM, so I could steal his beanbag for a few hours. By the way my back was already starting to complain, I’d probably need it.

Part 5: We Have Reached the Underbelly and We’re Starting to Dig
Saturday, 22:20-VICE SQUAD

Audio Glitch #2 occurred early, as this started as a Silent Flick. I of course tried dubbing in the POLICE SQUAD theme as a substitute. (“Vice Squad: In Color!”) The actual theme was much more 70’s funky, of course. (If somewhat discordant.)

This film took the nights’ “Gritty Drama” slot, being one of the toughest, sleaziest dramas since FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE. Since the ‘Thon, Ant has let us know that this in fact provoked a walkout by one of our female attendees due to it’s constant barrage of violent misogyny. Most of this came from “Ramrod”, played by Wings Hauser. He’s not only a NYC pimp, he pretty much takes the title of Biggest Cockbag in Marathon History from Jesse Lee Kane by a long margin. (Mainly because, unlike Jesse’s all-encompassing racism, Ramrod is a full-time abuser of the fair sex only.) He’s a total sleazebag bastard, handing out beatings and sexual molestations to his ladies of the night like he’s getting a commission on every woman he abuses.

Personally, I can see where some people would find this flick worthy of a walkout, but in truth, all the violence (even the really nasty stuff involving coat hangers) occurs off-screen. Put it side by side with something like HOSTEL and you’ll see a lot more flesh-rending violence in the latter. Someone getting their head blown off at the Marathon usually gets a huge round of hooting and applause. The problem here is the context. This is no camp-fest. Bar one scene, this is done dead serious. This is a flick that says “The world is full of complete bastards, and we’ve found the biggest one in New York City. Enjoy!”

There’s no point trying to describe the plot. It’s just one night (I think… there was a LOT of action in one night if it was) in some of NYC’s less salubrious suburbs. Our main characters are a trick-turning mother, a tough-guy (but constantly apologetically-looking) cop who uses tactics right out of the 50s and our aforementioned Pusbag Pimp. There’s a ton of working girl-type sleaze, a nasty revenge plot and a balls-to-the-walls shoot-‘em-up climax.

There’s also one of the most batfuck crazy setups for nookie I’ve ever seen. I’m still in awe of it now. And unless Skankybridesforolddeadguys.com has been taken, it involves the only fetish NOT to be on the Internet. Trust me, I’m too afraid to Google it to make sure.

It was one of those films that’s a tough watch, but you stick with it just to see someone get their comeuppance. And it’s well worth the ride.

It’s also a nice companion to 2004’s PAPARAZZI, an at-times nasty revenge flick starring Wing’s chip off the ol’ block, Cole. He’s lucky he got off easy on the face department looking at Wings. Man, that guy had a lot of face. It looked like someone melted Ted Danson and carefully ironed him out a little on each side.

That observation had nothing to do with the film, of course. I just wanted to share.

Good Guys Smoking!: Yep. Even in restaurants. That’d get you shot today.
Sexism: The high-water mark for misogyny tonight.
Sweaty People: Every 70’s flick in NYC looked humid as hell. Must be all the polyester.
Cool Hats: A pimp ain’t worth shit without his feathered fedora.
Betrayal: Time to scratch this Theme, perhaps.
Cracking Dialogue: A combo of hard-boiled and jive, suckas!
Horrific Leg Injuries: Once again, CLOSE to her legs. And once again, Ick. And Double Ick.
Mistreatment of the Differently Abled?: Actually, the wheelchair-bound John seemed to have had a great time.

CARDIO?: I’d hope our heroine had stamina with the amount of tricks she had to turn.
DOUBLE-TAP?: Yep, vehicular follow by high calibre.
CHECK THE BACK SEAT?: I’m sure something would go down in the back seat of a car, if you get my drift.

Skeeters’ Summary: Ant had hinted we’d be seeing a Children’s Film during the Marathon. This sure as hell wasn’t it. Nihilistically compelling viewing.

Part 6: Casperfield?
Sunday, 00:00-PARANORMAL ACTIVITY

As it was now midnight on Halloween, Ant had the projectionists spool up our second premiere, a brand-new horror flick. And since it hasn’t come out yet, I’m going to say very little about it.

I will say that I went into the unannounced film completely cold. Hadn’t heard about it, hadn’t seen a preview, hadn’t read a review. It was pretty obvious right off the bat that it was a “PoV” flick, shot on handheld digital video, BLAIR WITCH style. What wasn’t obvious was its name, with the brief credits appearing 90 minutes later. (I honestly did call it “Casperfield” in my notes. )

In the next break some of the more informed crew filled me in on some details. It’s a microscopically-budgeted film, possibly no more than US$15, 000 all up. Since it’s currently the number one film in the States, someone’s getting extraordinarily rich right about now. It looks pretty good for the money, with some very competent performances from its tiny cast. Typically for no-budget flicks it’s all set in one location with much more emphasis on characters rather than effects. (Although what is on screen is at times much more effective than many an over-budgeted CGI-fest I’ve seen.)

This was one of our “Audience Splitters”, it seemed. Many people loved the films’ escalating, slow-burn eeriness, yet detested the final scenes. Others (and I’m in this camp) found it a film that spent too long between the creepy bits, yet leapt a foot out of their seat at the climax. Even more interestingly, Steve Chow informed us that the final scene in question was a studio-demanded re-shoot. God only knows how the reputed “Big Twist” original ending would have gone down. (Of course, after the reaction to the finale of THE DESCENT, I think it might have played very well indeed with this crowd.)

Not my favourite film of the night, but kudos to the film-makers for getting it done. Enjoy your piles of cash, guys. You earned it.

(To avoid spoilers, there will be no Running Themes for this one. Hey, it’s my review, I’ll do what I like.)

PART 7: If This Movie Gets Any More Downbeat, It’ll Start Cutting Itself.
Sunday 01:55-MAIDENS OF FETISH STREET

Well, here we go, folks. With 10, 000 words under my belt, we have reached the Long Haul. The four-film run that made this the toughest Marathon I’ve been to. The self-flagellating Sexploitation Flick seemingly designed by the Catholic Church to put me off sex for life. The film that shut down all but one of my senses. The most demented horror compilation of the day-glo 80’s. And the movie that made me sit up and watch every frame, despite its’ instance of tossing the concept of a “Coherent Narrative” off a very tall building ten seconds after the opening titles. Strap it in folks, this is going to get Wahoonie-shaped pretty damn quick.

We kicked off this quad-fecta of remarkable cinema with a quick dive into the realm of the Filthy Raincoat Brigade. It actually had an even longer title than MAIDENS OF FETISH STREET, but our efforts to decipher the attached “Inspired by..” credit was thwarted by the overly-festive Circus Poster font. I’m sure most of us assumed we were about to watch a skinflick about sadomasochistic clowns. And while the actual given title is probably one of the two best of the night, I had a more accurate (and much, MUCH cruder) alternative name.

“The Incredible Adventures of the Unfuckable Mr. Nick”.

Yep, this is a stag film in which the main character is unable to get off with anyone, Even though every other person in the film is either a burlesque dancer or a prostitute. When you can’t even get your rocks off with someone you paid for that express purpose, something is seriously wrong.

But that’s really only the tip of the Wrongness Iceberg which the film sent floating into the path of our Titanic of Belief. Our male lead is Nick, a sweaty, overweight putz the likes of which seemed to constantly populate 60’s sleaze flicks. We watch as he flicks through filthy book, pervs at pre-liposuction burlesque dancers and in an admirably creepy flashback, propositions a youthful streetwalker he’s “been watching since she was a schoolgirl”. Yep, that’s something we DIDN’T need to know, Nick. And seriously, neither did she.

That little gem was one of the few lines we managed to get intact at the start of the film due to the massive amounts of clipping the print had. (I think the film was shot in Skip-o-Vision) Luckily it improved as we went along, as the narration of this film is a highlight. We had figured out by the time Schoolgirl-Turned-Ho was rejecting sweaty ol’ Nick that this was a sex film that considered sex a horrible, filthy thing. But as things progress the voice-over guy seemed to crawl inside a bottle of depression and drink his way to the bottom. By the time we had made it half-way through the flick, with the Omnipresent Narrator constantly busting out florid monologues about the unfathomable depths of societies depravity, I’d scrawled “This movie hates us!” in my notes.

Things took a turn for the weird as Nick began flashing back to other peoples memories. There’s a long, surreally-dubbed section involving an EVIL lesbian, artfully seducing an innocent. (Said seducing is of course cleverly disguised as artful posing for a sculptress.) The soundtrack goes batshit insane in this segment, mixing in animal sounds and heavy bass notes, along with the heaviest rainfall Foley I’ve ever heard. (I think I blurted out “STAMPEDE!” once the hammering sound effects hit their crescendo.)

The “Icky Factor” rises as Nick starts hanging out with a sadistic Grandma, making anyone who stayed awake to watch this flick as masochistic as Nick. There’s catfighting tossed into the mix, three-way spankings, the works. I’m not making it sound coherent, but there’s a reason for that. It ain’t. The movie just tosses as much mildly titillating depravity at us as possible, all the while chiding us via the voice-over for being part of the twisted, perverted majority of society that likes that kind of thing.

The best way I could describe this flick would be to ask you to imagine a porn film that flashes the words “ARE YOU GETTING OFF ON THIS, YOU SICK FUCK? YOU DISGUST ME!” every time someone starts boinking.

A brief, but crowded 55 minutes later (Yes, it’s that short. Despite the Marathoners who thought they watched that film for at LEAST 90 minutes. And probably longer.) the film even has the gargantuan amount of ballsack needed to turn the entire film into an hour-long dream sequence.

It was a short, but memorable trip. I thanked Ant afterwards for screening the only film in existence that could make even the thought of bare breasts not only boring, but also slightly depressing.

Well, for a day or two anyway.

Good Guys Smoking!: Yes, and I’m sure the voice-over guy wanted to tell us off for liking smoking.
Sexism: Oh, good God, yes.
Sweaty People: Our hero looks like Newman from Seinfeld. I’d call that a big yes.
Cool Hats: Not that I can recall, but things get hazy from here on in.
Betrayal: Our skinflick made me feel dirty. I consider that a betrayal, all right.
Cracking Dialogue: Cringeworthy dialogue abounds.
Horrific Leg Injuries: Not unless Nick forgets his Safety Word.
Mistreatment of the Differently Abled?: If they paid enough for it, Grammy Spankyoulots will mistreat them all night long.

CARDIO?: CATFIGHT! CATFIGHT!
DOUBLE-TAP?: The Narrator sounded on the verge of self-harm, yeah.
CHECK THE BACK SEAT?: Nope, but the rule about “Beware of Bathrooms” would fit in the burlesque club.

Skeeters’ Summary: Did we just watch Catholic Porn? I feel so… guilty.

Part 8: Windmills? CHARRRRGE!
Sunday 03:00-MILL OF THE STONE WOMEN.

This was the film pulled from the MGM Archive at short notice to replace the MIA [REC 2]. It was in Technicolor. It appeared to be from the 60’s, looking incredibly similar in style to last years THE TIME MACHINE, if slightly more… Scandinavian. It had windmills in it. Lots of them. Possibly the same one each time. I’m not really sure.

Shit man, I’m not sure about anything more specific than “A film was projected on the screen. It lasted more than ninety minutes and less than two hours. And there were windmills.”

I had hit the Wall. In fact the combination of my early start and that unexpected outbreak of jogging meant I hit the Wall so hard I think it fell on me. I watched an indeterminate amount of this film in a warm, fuzzy haze, the dialogue heading straight to my brains Recycle Bin without ever making a damn bit of sense. The fact that the film had been dubbed into English from either German or Dutch made my sense of dislocation even worse. Pretty soon I was face down on the arm of my seat, unable to process the films endless shots of windmills, the internal machinery of windmills and the rotating Animatronic Joan of Arc.

I don’t think I actually fell asleep at any stage. This was probably due to the fact that I was contorted into a series of painful Yoga poses by my seat the whole time. But by the time the credits rolled I was in the strangest headspace that the ‘Thon has ever sent me. I wasn’t really sure what was real and what was something I’d just watched. Steve Chow had stuck around for an extra flick and my back was singing The Hallelujah Chorus with full orchestra accompaniment from my shoulders. And there was one of the first and ONLY bad experiences I’ve had at the Marathon.

Bear with me, this could turn into a minor controversy. It’s about the dreaded subject of Background Noise.

Now as you may have noticed from my past reviews, there’s been plenty of films in the past that have induced riffing, bad puns and plenty of hooting and hollering. But in the last few years, the crowds have become a lot quieter, a lot more respectful of the lineup. Even the worst films are watched with very little audience participation. There’s also a lack of the chatting/texting/general douchebaggery that plagues multiplexes every time I go to a film. (Although Alistair did have someone behind him this year who flipped him off after he politely asked her to stop yakking about nothing mid-film.)

My problem is that we appear to be going too far the other way. We are, in fact, turning into Noise Nazis.

Here’s what happened. In my row was a first-timer, attending solo. He was obviously suffering from a bad cold and by 3AM he was on a hiding to nothing. From what I can gather, he must have started to pack up his stuff to head home. Abruptly, a Marathoner from the center section appeared out of nowhere and VICIOUSLY chewed him out for the heinous crime of rustling a plastic bag. No polite request to tone it down, no “please”, just a verbal spray from out of the dark. I was deep in the Twilight Zone, barely conscious of my surroundings, so this basically scared the shit out of me. Bad Cold Newbie left a few minutes later, as quietly as possible.

I was fucking furious.

Sure, it was a dialogue-heavy movie that needed all the concentration you could muster at this stage of the night. Yes, 90% of the crowd was probably napping, magnifying the noise somewhat. But I was sitting right next to the guy and never ever registered the “noise” he was apparently making. There is ways and means of dealing with crowd noise, and that wasn’t fucking it. Do I think that guy will come back for another Marathon? I probably wouldn’t, if that had happened to me back in ’02.

Even worse, once the light came up after the film, I saw WHY he had been rustling… the floor was littered with used tissues, which he had been trying to clean up. Thanks to the dipwad from the middle section, guess who got to clean those up? Cherie had anti-bacterial hand cleanser, but I’m still battling a cold as I type this.

To compound this, as the next film kicked off, I heard Ant shush someone for rustling a chip packet.

Fuck me. Why don’t we just put on our black berets and hang about a coffee shop discussing the Nietzsche-esque themes of TROLL 2?

We’re in there for 24 hours. We’re tired, we’re hungry and yes, chip packets rustle. I love the Marathon, but I don’t want to have to stay statue-still for 24 hours in case I annoy someone with my ambient noise. When Cherie and I exchange our minor witticisms, we do it so quietly these days that I doubt even the row in front of us can hear a thing. If someone in the future barks “Do you have to rustle that chip packet?” at me, my answer will be the same no matter who asks the question. ”Yes, because I can’t get them to teleport to my stomach. Chill out, mofo.”

In short, be respectful of your fellow cinemagoers. Even if you think THEY’RE the ones being dickish.

Rant Over.

And so, as we got ready to roll into one of the Marathons’ “Holy Grail” films, I was disorientated, angry, tired and sore. All I wanted was to find a dark corner and curl up in it for a few days. This was going to take something serious to get me through the night.

Thank God the Hollywood snack bar serves Jelly-Tip Trumpets.

Part 9: Who Let the Editors of “Readers Digest” Make a Movie?
Sunday, 04:50-NIGHT TRAIN TO TERROR

Steve had vacated the premises after STONE WOMEN finished, so I gratefully claimed his beanbag. Cherie had slept through the last flick, so I was pretty sure she wouldn’t miss any of my witty (and whispered) banter in the stalls. I pulled a blankie over me, certain I was going to crash out the moment the film started no matter how strange it was.

I underestimated how insane the film was going to be by a factor of about 10,000. NIGHT TRAIN TO TERROR is the Bellvue Asylum of horror compilation flicks. I used the term “batshit insane” a lot, I know. This is an entire fertilizer warehouse full of guano, crammed into a tiny, tiny sack.

Basically, what we have here is three uncompleted (at the time, at least… I’ve been told two were eventually finished) horror flicks, chopped down enough to fit in one film. They’re book ended and separated by a joyously ridiculous concept. A train is racing through the Stock Footage countryside, and who should be on board but no less than God and Satan. The two are discussing who gets the passengers souls when the train derails itself in around eighty minutes time. And so, they’ll tell stories of the passengers, allowing the producers to splice in the cheaply-purchased footage.

But that wasn’t enough for whoever wrote this linking footage. They felt like they needed something else. Something like… an wildly out-of-left-field Musical Number! In fact, the most bizarrely misplaced number since we did the Rooster. (You remember, we moved our head like a Rooster. Back and forth like a Rooster!) It’s performed by a youthful dance troupe that’s so enthusiastic the cops would automatically drug test them if they arrived at a checkpoint these days. They’re decked out on eye-scarring 80’s Neon Fashions and are led by the whitest break-dancer in America. (Who was scarily close to being a Corey Haim look-alike, to boot.) Supposedly, they’re on the train as well. This is very believable. Because I firmly believe that Amtrack builds it’s railway carriages to resemble flimsy mock-ups of someone’s drawing room, you see.

They perform one musical number, the chorus of which is “Everybody’s got something to do/But you!”. (I’ll admit I heard it as “Everybody’s got something to do/So fuck you!” for quite some time. Blame it on the sleep deprivation, I guess.) Of course, because it’s such an awesome song and probably to extend the running time, they do something like four encores, singing that damn song after every story ends. The juxtaposition (Ooh, film-school words!) of the cut-down flicks graphic, bloody violence and the insanely upbeat musical numbers was friggin’ hilarious. God and Satan even bicker over who gets the “Rock Band”s souls once the train goes ka-boom. I’d have to give them to Satan. They could play that song for eternity and make all of the other Condemned Souls REALLY miserable.

The kicker is that AFTER the train explodes, (leading to hilarity as the group lies around the set in ridiculous “I’m dead” poses) they COME BACK for a final curtain call! I thought Jeff Healey was resilient, but even DEATH can’t stop these kids from rockin’ the fuck out!

The stories themselves are wildly diverse. The opening segment is a sadistic slasher set in a hospital, starring Richard “Bull from Night Court” Moll. (With hair, no less!) It must have been nearly completed, as the editing to get the “good bits” on the film is so rapid-fire it’s likely to cause seizures. We’re talking MOULIN ROUGE-like pacing, folks. In fact, in their haste to get every stabbing, molesting and lobotmising on screen, they only cut out two things. One, the plot and two, any indication of who any of the characters are.

The middle third was pretty brief, obviously only partially filmed and memorable only for having six people cheer for a character actor no-one else in the cinema recognised (me included) and lacking an ending. God even had to add narration to fill in the many missing gaps in the plot. Whatever it was.

The final, lengthiest segment “The Death Club” is campy as hell. And also has Richard Moll in it. I was starting to flake again, and spent most of this one giving myself Atomic Neck Snaps as I fought sleep. I think I’ll have to hunt this one down at some stage. It’ll probably make no more sense than it did at 5AM, but I’d kill to have that musical number on a Mixtape.


Good Guys Smoking!: The only good guys were God and the band. And the band was smoooook-in’!
Sexism: More like discrimination of the Criminally Suicidal.
Sweaty People: You dance for 9 hours in a railway carriage, you’ll raise a sweat, too.
Cool Hats: Yes. Well, funky headbands, really. Not to mention Electro-Death Caps!
Betrayal: Satan’s a main character. It’s what he does.
Cracking Dialogue: Cracking lyrics.
Horrific Leg Injuries: Horrific EVERYTHING injuries.
Mistreatment of the Differently Abled?: Lobotomised people count as “differently abled”, yeah? Then yes.

CARDIO?: “We’re in Nebraska! Yay! Now let’s sing this song and dance all the way to Chicago!”
DOUBLE-TAP?: More like “Double-Zap”.
CHECK THE BACK SEAT?: The back seat was edited out in the rush to show Richard Moll cutting someone’s arm off.

Skeeters’ Summary: This movie is gruesome, idiotic and as camp as a row of little pink tents. Stupidly fun flick.

Part 10: THE INEVITABLE RETURN OF INTERSTELLAR JESUS!
Sunday, 0630-THE VISITOR

It was pretty much light outside, so Ant checked in with Café Whare Kai to see if they were ready for the nerd-slaught. They were not. We pressed on for one more film, most of us probably assuming the hard yards were over. My stomach, however, decided to protest its deplorable lack of hot food. To satiate the growling beast I unpacked my breakfast rations. Two Weet-bix, already sugared. A cleverly chilled container of milk. A… wait a second.

Damn it. Forgot the spoon.

One quick trip to the candy counter later and I was soon attempting to eat breakfast cereal with a fork. (Not a spoon to be found, of course.) Thank God I didn’t pack cornflakes, it would have gotten messy.

I remained in my buttock-saving Beanbag of Comfort for the next film. (Probably much to the relief of my row-mates in the stalls. My legendary hyper-activeness between films had already resulted in more than a few stepped-on feet.) I wasn’t sure how I might fare during this film. My mind-haze from STONE WOMEN was gone, but I had suffered a good case of the Atomic Neck Snaps during NIGHT TRAIN. Wake up, you frigging pussy!

The film started. Drifting clouds, 70’s special effects, a desert. Oh, man, an art film. I’ll never stay awake for this.

And then, the music kicked in.

And with that, I was wide awake.

Imagine an ear-splitting, bass-heavy fanfare suitable for the entrance of the worlds most over-the-top wrestler. Now imagine the composer going. “It’s good, but it needs a little disco!”. Whoa, baby… I guess I know what’s going to be the opening track of next years Mixtape!

I’m so glad that theme woke me right the hell up, because THE VISITOR was by far my favourite of the “old films” that screened in ’09. Which is pretty high praise, considering it doesn’t make a lick of sense from beginning to end. For a starter, it’s a 90-minute American version of an 104-minute Italian flick called STRIDULUM. Losing 15 minutes of a film means cutting a few non-important scenes, of course. The non-important scene they apparently sliced out was the pre-credits sequence which EXPLAINED THE PLOT!

Instead, we go from funky dreamlike desert, to thundering theme, to watching an evil child make a basketball hoop explode for no reason one second before the end of a game, all in about five minutes of screen-time. (Presumably the kid had bet the farm on the other team. Still seems a little public for an all-encompassing evil, though.) I’d like to go into deep details of the film, but I’m not even sure I could sum up the plot, especially a week after the screening. To try and get across the experience of watching this, I’d suggest getting a high fever, popping some extra-strength Codral and then having someone play a montage of scenes from THE OMEN, THE DARK HALF, THE BAD SEED, an NBA game and oh, what the hell, 2001: A SPACE ODDESY. While playing two CDs, one of disco, the other of a brass band.

Yep, it’s one of those types of films. One where I’ll just list things I remember from the film in a vague approximation of the order they occurred. Or that I remember that they occurred. Or that I think occurred, but could possibly have been a hallucination caused by too much sugar.

**Ooh, solarized desert scene! Is this a MAD MAX rip-off?
**Shouldn’t he be on a horse with no name?
**DAH! Dah-dah-dah-dah-DAH! DAH-DAH!! *wacka-chicka bass*
**Hold on, now it’s MAXIMUM HANGTIME: THE MOVIE!
**If that’s Kareem Abdul-Jabbar then claim my God-given right to crack AIRPLANE jokes.
**We haven’t seen that family film yet. Maybe this is just a weird , arty Directors Cut of AIR BUD?
**Oh look, a cute pre-teen girl. There’s no way SHE could be evil.
**”He’s on fire!”. Almost literally, she made the damn hoop explode in his face!
**Oh, Lord, this movie is set in the Upper Polyester Era. Right after the Golden Age of Wood-Panelling.
**John Huston as Inter-dimensional Grandpa Seth!
**Fun Fact: Microsoft Word tried to auto correct my misspelling of the word “Inter-dimensional” as One-Dimensional. Everyone’s a critic.
**1970’s Architecture: We have seen the future and it’s blocky and made of slabs of concrete.
**The Visitor arrives on top of a huge office building. That’s one way to avoid the line at Customs.
**Also appearing at the top of the Skyscraper: Never-Introduced Man! I assume your speaking parts were deemed “time-consuming” and snipped from the film.
**He’s being assisted by a Modern Dance Troupe, from Spaaaaaaaace!
**Lance Henriksen! Yayy! *Kermit arms*
**Lance looks confused about something. He must have read the script.
**Actually, Lance looks confused about things for the entire movie. Much like the B-Movie Crew did.
**Hmm, Lance Henriksen boinking. Scratch another of the Things I Never Needed to See off the list. At least it’s arty and abstract.
**Lance tries to persuade Mrs. Lance to have another baby. Why, how many things do you have that need to be blown up, Lance?
**Cutesy-Evil-Moppet Kid (CEMK for short) plays Pong on a 50-inch screen. You can practically count the pixels.
**Lance gets summoned to the World Evilness Council. They too want Mrs. Lance to prep the oven for a bun. Geez, there won’t be a basketball hoop left in the country.
**Hey, there’s a smidgen of exposition happening! Too bad my brain is just turning it into a happy stream of soothing sounds. Oh well, I’m sure it’ll become clear soon.
**Or not.
**”Mrs. Lance won’t have another baby with which we can [take over/destroy/some other thing that was lost in the editing/] the world? I have a great idea! Let’s cripple her” Genius!
**Wait, what was that again?
**The Visitor mysteriously appears at CEMKs’ birthday party. It’s a sad reflection on today’s society that a kindly old gentleman hiding in the foliage and peering intently at a schoolgirl can elicit lecherous chuckles from a crowd.
**I just re-read that last sentence. The defence withdraws the statement.
**CEMK opens her birthday present. It used to be a ugly-as-sin ornamental bird, now it’s a handgun. Well, she does have a Texas accent, so I’m only surprised they waited until she was ten to give her her first piece..
**Mommy takes a slug to the spinal cord. I bet she’s just RARING to have a baby now!
**”You’re watching General(lly a bit confusing) Hospital!”
**Oddly, there’s a bit of a gap between CEMK popping a cap in Mommy Dearest and anyone actually commenting on it. Of course it is the 70’s, so maybe everyone needed their downers to wear off first.
**Back on the roof, The Visitor and his Mime Troupe from Beyond the Stars construct what appears to be a badly-aimed solar panel. Good to see our God Figure is environmentally conscious.
**Enter the Grizzled Cop character. He gets a funky Interrogation Montage. Visually, this movie is rocking. Plot-wise, my brain is doing the same thing.
**Grizzled Cop later tries to winkle some information out of CEMK. I can’t have been the only one hoping he’d slap her around like the 50’s cops in THE SECERET FOUR.
**Or grab her by the neck and scream “LOOK AT HER!” like the cops in VICE SQUAD.
**CEMK sasses the cop and implies he’s a kiddie-fiddler. You’re not helping endear yourself to this audience, movie.
**Mrs. Lance has had a chairlift installed on the stairs in her house. The stairs are typically stylish for the1970’s, meaning they are just stairs with no handrail. Gunshot or no gunshot, getting paralysed was probably inevitable in that household.
**Mrs. Lance needs a sensible, calming housemaid now. So why not hire Shelly Winters! (Because we’ve all seen her in THE POSIDEON ADVENTURE, right?)
**More shots of people playing Pong. Must have been before they invented those high-tech consoles that played Pong, Pong Hockey AND Tanks Warfare With Tanks That Kinda Look Like Pong Paddles. (I can’t really complain, I played the hell out of Atari Adventure… you know, the one where your character was a square holding an arrow.)
**Grizzled Cop hits the freeway. Only to be attacked by CEMKs’ pet falcon. Did I mention she had a bird of prey? I’m sure I did. Really? Must have been edited out of the final cut of this review.
**Grizzled Cop reacts to his unexpected brush with his Avian Assassin by slamming the gas pedal to the floor and playing dodgems with the traffic. As you do.
**Man, this highway looks very familiar. I expect to see Jake and Elwood going the other way any second now.
**Grizzled Cop almost crashes into a crowd of amateur sportsmen. What does this movie have against the physically fit?
**Exit Grizzled Cop in a fireball. These days someone would have captured that on a cell phone and sent it to “Worlds Scariest Police-Being-Attacked-By-Wildlife Chases”.
**Earlier, CEMK demonstrated her excellent gymnastics. Now she’s an expert Ice Skater. If she didn’t have the potential to destroy the world, she’d be on a Wheaties box by the time she was 16.
**CEMK runs afoul of Ice-Skating Bullies! Great, I’m getting flashbacks to BATMAN AND ROBIN. Bad movie!
**It’s rare that a movie can set a glass-smashing action scene in a shopping mall skating rink filled with children. But this is the best one I’ve ever seen.
**Well, she may cause mayhem, chaos and serves back trauma to everyone around her, but at least she’s happy and upbeat about the whole thing.
**Seriously, I’ve never seen anyone having that much fun while sending five people to the hospital. Of course, I’ve never met any L.A cops.
**The Visitor shows up at CEMK’s place, claiming to be from a babysitting agency. Let’s see that be a believable plot development these days.
**Wait, The Visitor and Shelly Winters know each other? Explain how, movie.
**Fine, don’t. Be that way.
**Mrs. Lance is possibly pregnant! I think. Everything’s starting to blur into one huge morass of plot that is failing to fire the correct neurons in my over-tired brain.
**Crap, now it’s just symbolism an meaningless words. I’m going back into STONE MILL state! Time to chug a V.
**Oh, nuts. That was a Black V. I just drank enough caffeine and sugar to reanimate the dead.
**It’s all gone pear-shaped for the Lance Family. Shelly Winters hits full-on Banshee Acting mode. The Visitor has finished his Inter-Dimensional Runway. Lance and CEMK are going to whack Mrs. Lance in the most convoluted way they can think of. (I knew that chairlift would come back to haunt her!) The Visitor to the rescue! Birds, birds, birds! Where are these fucking birds coming from? Most of the cast dies, world saved, Cutesy-Evil-Moppet-Kid becomes Bald-Happy-Kid as she’s welcomed into the loving arms of Interstellar Hippy Jesus, the end.
**Man, that Black V is good.

Good Guys Smoking!: This movie had good guys? I know grizzled cop was a Family-Sized Bucket of Bad Habits, however.
Sexism: “Women should be barefoot, pregnant AND paralysed from the waist down. Now wheel yourself into the kitchen and make me dinner, woman!”
Sweaty People: Not from memory, although by this stage of the night, who knows?
Cool Hats: Every cop needs his film-noir hat.
Betrayal: Thy name is Lance.
Cracking Dialogue: Mind-cracking.
Horrific Leg Injuries: Back-cracking.
Mistreatment of the Differently Abled?: You read the summary, right? Yes, yes and yes.

CARDIO?: She skates, she does gym, she’ll play Pong for days!
DOUBLE-TAP?: Eagle-attack to car crash to immolation. A Triple-tap!
CHECK THE BACK SEAT?: Where else did Evil the Eagle come from?

Interlude: Sunday, 0800-ish-BREAKFAST!

With everyone suitably messed up by THE VISITOR, we broke for breakfast. After last years “Last Guy in Line” trick that saw me miss part of DYING BREED, I hightailed it out across the road. I was still half-way back in the line. Damn, nerds can move FAST when they’re hungry! I hadn’t bother to bust out the camera, so I was able to have a good chat with an attendee who was up from Wellington. Mainly about how THE VISITOR and last years DESPERATE LIVING tried to break our brains.

Whare Kai’s tiny kitchen coped a little better this year, mainly due to their new super-express five-buck menu. Which I suspect was rolled out that morning on a one-hour trial period. Somewhat fortified by my cereal I took advantage of their al-fresco Sausage-inna-bun stall they’d also set up for us. $2.50 worth of pig parts wrapped in bread later and I was heading back to the Hollywood, set for the final push.

By this stage there had been no major breakdowns, just a number of minor ones. But by the B-Movie Crews calculations we were probably not going to break the 14-film record this year, even with the extra hour. But unless one of the final four films was an epic, we’d easily equal it.

I relinquished Steve’s beanbag as he’d returned during breakfast, reclaiming my stall seat. There had been no can-stacking/breakdancing/kung-fu contests this year, so we were straight back into it. Our last premiere was on the way!

Part 11: M-yatt Damon!
Sunday, 0900-ish-THE INFORMANT!

Can I just say right off the bat that I loved that exclamation mark in the title? It gave the film an air of confidence before we’d even watched any of it. It’s also the first title
like that we’ve seen since TOP SECRET! My notes actually call it “The Insider”, so I must have been still a little dopey at the start of the film. My torch once again stopped working at this point. I’ll have to replace it for next year.

THE INFORMANT! is a slow-burn comedy, based on true events from the 90’s. It stars Matt Damon, already a Marathon Hero after his appearance-by-proxy in TEAM AMERICA. It’s not a film full of constant laugh-out-loud hilarity, but there’s plenty to like about it. The dialogue sizzles away nicely, slowly ramping up the humour level through the running time. The performances are solid throughout, everyone seems to be having fun and Matt Damon rocks the bad moustache.

Did I like it? Yep, good watch.

Did I love it? Nah, felt like the type of flick I used to half-watch on Sky TV in the last few years. Only intelligently written and less likely to make me fall asleep. Hell, this was interesting enough to finally help me shake off the last of my lethargy and set me up for the rest of the day.

But as you can tell, I really have nothing interesting to say about THE INFORMANT! So go see it yourself, make your own opinion and let’s move along. That way I can stop padding this bloated, rambling review and do something important.

Running Themes? I’ll get back to you after the DVD comes out.

Part 12: Less Snacking, More Tracking!
Sunday 10:40-CREATURE FROM BLACK LAKE

I headed over to the Beanbag section one last time. Squeezing through the assorted debris of the last twenty hours, I took my now-traditional one-film position in the side-on seats that had been pushed aside to make room for the floor-monkeys. I have no idea why, but those chairs are a lot softer and better on my back than the one in the stalls. There’s just no way I could watch the entire show from there these days. (I spent a good chunk of the ’07 show in a side-seat, but my neck bitched about it for days afterwards.)

By this stage it looked like the rumoured Family Film had been ditched. But from the opening scenes of marshland and woods, we were back in familiar territory here. Yes, it was the welcome return of the Bigfoot Flick.

Okay, kind of welcome. Ant loves programming them, and the crowd goes nuts once it starts, but long-timers like me always view them with a certain amount of trepidation. Just because of the fact that so many Bigfoot films (especially the 70;s documentaries) can be… well, pretty dull. LEGEND OF BIGFOOT was probably the worst culprit, but was of course made up for it by becoming one of the most-heckled films since the Marathon started. (If it had screened this year, the anti-noise brigade would have made it a soul-crushing chore to sit through.) The upside is that the non-boring ones can be goofy as all get out, doubly so if the Sasquatch costume is a little on the threadbare side. Which route was this example of the genre take?

Right down the middle, actually. It’s a drama, so we could expect a huge reduction in stock footage shots of startled-looking wildlife. Although I still wonder what happened to Squeaky the Mutilated Squirrel. Remarkably enough it was in Cinemascope, being our widest, lushest and due to its age, faded-to-green-est print of the night. The actors would never make the cover of “Beautiful People” magazine, but their acting is serviceable enough for their roles. Hell, it even has Jack Elam in the flick, bringing us full circle from his role as Googly-Eyed Pete in THE FOUR SECERETS. (Here I referred to him as Joe “Eyeballs” von Redneck.) The Bigfoot costume, while much, MUCH lankier than most Bigfoots (Bigfeet?) is well-made. There’s really only one flaw with the flick.

Fuck-all Bigfoot in this Bigfoot film.

Whoa, stop the presses. I’m typing this out in my living room with a trailer compilation playing in the background for atmosphere. I heard a familiar voice, looked up and did a double take. It was a super-short video promo for CREATURE FROM BLACK LAKE. Thanks for the wacky coincidence, TRAILAMANIA!

But as I was saying, there is a serious lack of Bigfoot in CREATURE FROM BLACK LAKE. After not one, but TWO lengthy scenes of the cast at mealtimes, I dubbed the film “Dinner at Black Lake”. Most of the film is spent following a couple of college kids (Well, pretty old “kids”, but we’ll roll with it.) as they wander around the backwoods of Yokelsville, annoying the natives with their wilful and persistent Damn Yankee-ness. Occasionally we’ll get a glimpse of a hairy paw or leg to keep us interested, but for the most past the big guy plays it pretty coy.

Afterwards, Andrew and I formulated a theory that there was a law in the 1970’s mandating that all Bigfoot movies could contain no more than 5% Bigfoot footage. Presumably so as to preserve the mystique of the fabled “Skunk-Ape”, as this movie rather unkindly dubbed him at one stage. Another example would be Charles B. Pierces’ BEAST OF BOGGY LAKE series. Lots of investigation, a few stories about Bigfoot attacks we don’t get to watch, and finally a guy in a fursuit getting a brief cameo before we end without learning a damn thing about Sasquatch.

But is it boring? Not really. Quite entertaining, really. Bigfoot may have been a sub-plot in his own movie, but watching our Heroes lock horns with the Redneck Sheriff and his Hot Daughter was pretty fun. I took a lot of notes on the film, but most seem fascinated with the films minor details. The included:

TARDIS TENT: A reference to the way four people could spread out in what appeared to be a two man tent. As if they were, I don’t know, just sitting outside with a tarpaulin stretched out behind them.
SILLY BEACH HAT: A jab at one of the Yankee college boys unfortunate choice in headgear.
SHO’NUFF!: This piece of home-spun Redneck-ese was cheered by one of last years attendees.
35-CENT APPLE PIES!: I had wondered why Jack Elam’s character got very accommodating for a $25 bribe earlier in the film. But who’s going to turn down 70 apple pies!
CHICKEN GUMP!: A reference to one characters unexpected listing of all the things you could do with chicken. Being many years before THE DEVILS REJECTS, fucking them wasn’t one of them.
QUICK-SAC: I’ll admit, I have no idea what this is in reference to. I must have thought it was important at the time.
THE GAY CROSSBOW ENSEMBLE: And then I went clinically insane, apparently.

Good Guys Smoking!: I honestly can’t recall. It was the 70’s, so it’s probable.
Sexism: Not overtly, although our College Boys were drooling hornbags.
Sweaty People: Redneck Sheriffs always look a little moist.
Cool Hats: See note about seriously un-cool fashions.
Betrayal: Not specifically, but never trust a Damn Yankee, y’hear?
Cracking Dialogue: More like Cracker Dialogue. I tell y’whut!
Horrific Leg Injuries: There was some lower-leg abuse near the end of the film.
Mistreatment of the Differently Abled?: Nada.

CARDIO?: Who needs good cardio when you just sit around, eat chicken and drink beer all night?
DOUBLE-TAP?: This film doesn’t have much of a body-count, so it’s never needed.
CHECK THE BACK SEAT?: Better to check the Backwoods.

Skeeters’ Summary: A solid if unremarkable Sasquatch flick. I’ll take that over “Tragically Dull”, frankly.

PART 13: The Movie NO-ONE Turns Off Before the Credits Stop Rolling!
Sunday, 1200-ish. (I think)-HOWLING II: YOUR SISTER IS A WEREWOLF.

As you can tell, my notes have gone a little screwy, time-wise. It was probably later than that, but who could tell by then. Ant had one of the Marathon Crew intro this film, as the guy inquestion had been bugging Ant to play it for the last ten shows. Having seen this once before, I’m just wondering why it took Ant so long to cave in. It’s an absolute classic of B-Grade Horror, salvaged from true turkey-hood by the ever-imposing presence of Christopher F’n Lee. He delivers his usual top-notch performance, never half-assing it despite the abject sillyness of the script. (The man can act, but man he’s chosen more than a few shitty flicks to appear in. A guys gotta eat, I suppose.)

Of course, Sir Chris’s ACT-ing is balanced out by our leading man, the huge slab of walking Man-Beef that is Reb Brown. I’m pretty sure Reb was an ex-football player, and he cuts an imposing figure, standing at least six-four. Amazingly, Christopher Lee is an inch taller than him, leaving our somewhat more diminutive leading lady looking like a girl playing “Actress” with her two rather disparate Uncles. Reb is also somewhat less a skilled thespian than Christopher Lee. I told Cherie to watch for the Reb Brown Acting Technique of “Acting with your chest” in this flick. (Although unlike SPACE MUTINY Reb doesn’t get to wear a tank-top. He instead acts with his massive jaw.)

The REAL star of this film is in fact Sybil Danning, however. She plays the centuries-old leader of the films werewolf pack. (Who are holed up in Transylvania. Hey, you got Vampire Mythology in my Werewolf Flick!) She’ll be a Marathon favourite for years to come, due to the long and ludicrous, Lycanthropic Three-way she initiates soon after her revival to the land of the living. Sybil got a good reaction for ripping off her top for the camera. That reaction was magnified exponentially at the end of the flick, as the credits show a few highlights of the film. And by “highlights” I mean “Hey, let’s replay Sybil ripping her top off SEVENTEEN TIMES!”. Trust me, our section was counting along with each jubbly-flash. You’re all class, Mr Director.

The film itself mixes the usual amounts of werewolf-ery with plenty of campy nonsense. (The sneaky-as-hell werewolf that manages to ambush Reb in a tiny compact car scores big Awesome Points for me.) There’s a heroic midget, which is always the sign of a good film and exploding eyeballs, which is the sign of a GREAT flick. The Eastern European location shooting adds an air of authenticity, while also ensuring that the film could be made for bugger all cash. (A trick now known as ‘The Sci-Fi Original Movie Approach.’)

This film is a delight for lovers of sub-par horrors, and is by all accounts far from being the worst Howling film. That dubious honour goes to HOWLING: NEW MOON RISING, which is apparently the only werewolf movie in which the creature has less screen-time than the non-acting, real-life inhabitants of the small town in which the film was shot.

NoT to mention that this was supposed to be the only print on existence, struck last year for the Alamo Drafthouse. Now, can anyone find HOWLING III: THE MARSUPIALS for 2010?

Good Guys Smoking!: Reb’s too much of a fitness freak to pollute his lungs.
Sexism: Relatively little, really.
Sweaty People: It’s too cold in Romania to sweat, surely.
Cool Hats: Plenty of funky Black Mass headgear.
Betrayal: This theme looked dead. Until the final film, that is.
Cracking Dialogue: Christopher Lee can make even the stupidest script sound good.
Horrific Leg Injuries: Legs, arms, jugulars, eyeballs…
Mistreatment of the Differently Abled?: The League For Equal Heights wants a word about the dwarf-mutilating. (Okay, no more Discworld references, I promise.)

CARDIO?: Reb probably pumps iron between takes.
DOUBLE-TAP?: Fun Fact: Some werewolves are dangerously unstable. BOOM!
CHECK THE BACK SEAT?: Probably should have, yeah.

We had one last break before Ant screened the finalists and Grand Prize winner of a “Marathon Trailer” contest he’d run this year. I made one, but practically begged Ant not to screen it. My total lack of filming or edit skills meant I simply filmed five clips of the TV with a behind-the-camera voiceover and pasted it together with Windows Moviemaker. You can actually pick the point where I realise how bad this was going to be by the way the voiceover suddenly sounds bored.

This reminds me, I’ll be deleting that piece of shit off of Youtube tomorrow morning.

And so, we were at the Big Finale. The Fan Favourite. And according to Ant, the most-requested film of the last ten years. Let me guess, BREAKIN’ 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO?

Nope. Then it must be…

PART 14: Enough Testosterone to Make the Organist Grow a Beard!
SUNDAY, 1500-ish-COMMANDO.

Newsflash. I am an enormous Geek.

The film started, A garbage truck rolls over the horizon. There was a murmur from some parts of the crowd, but I was the one who screamed “IT’S COMMANDO! AWESOME!” about 12 seconds in.

Hardly surprising, seeing as I watch this film at least once a year, probably twice, and have done since I was about 16. In fact, I recall watching it with the same Church Youth Group that saw VIDEODROME thanks to me. (At a Video Night sleepover, where I was the last one left awake by 4AM. I started this shit young, folks.) Much like THE THING, this is just like having an old friend pop in to see us at the end of a long day. Only this one’s packing a bazooka.

The crowd dug it big-time. We laughed, we hooted, we gave one of the biggest collective cheers I’ve ever heard for Arnies’ “tooled-up” movie-poster pose. Nutzoid villain Bennett was applauded every time he got off a good line, and induced the only public crack of the night. (A beautifully timed “Chopper” reference from the middle section. If that was Red-Haired Grumpy Dude, you’re partially forgiven.)

The volume was high, but better balanced this year, more bassy than the ear-shattering audio of ’08. Our eardrums were driven back into our skulls in the final few reels, Arnies’ one-man assault a deafening, pulse-pounding, thrill ride.

I found out afterwards that Steve Austin slept through the film. Dude, you are SO on my shit-list for that. Next time you’re over for a Bad Movie Afternoon, I’m busting out a Stephen Seagal film. You’ve been warned.

Good Guys Smoking!: Arnie don’t smoke. He does eat ice-cream and kick ass.
Sexism: Yes, which is tough seeing as there’s only two females with major speaking roles in the whole film.
Sweaty People: Everywhere.
Cool Hats: Military caps abound.
Betrayal: Bennett is THE best exponent of betrayal in the 80’s.
Cracking Dialogue: I think most of us could quote this film from memory.
Horrific Leg Injuries: What do YOU think?
Mistreatment of the Differently Abled?: Unless they were part of the collateral damage, I didn’t see any.

CARDIO?: It’s an Arnie movie, take a guess.
DOUBLE-TAP?: It’s an Arnie movie, take a guess.
CHECK THE BACK SEAT?: You could, but Arnie would probably rip it out anyway.

Skeeters’ Summary: Arnie will be back. In my VCR at least once before the ’10 Marathon. Superb.

And so, after an action-packed 80-odd minutes, we were all done for another year. It was a little after twenty-past four as we emerged into the daylight for a 48-Hours Forum group photo on the steps of the Hollywood. Cherie had stayed for the final film this year and offered me a lift. Not being able to raise Dawn (Mum had taken her and Aiden to an art show my aunt was exhibiting it) I chose to stick around with the slowly dissipating crowd. This did allow me to snag a couple of leftover cans of V off Ant while “helping” him pack them away. They got me through work the next day. But only just.

Right at that stage though, I was wired. The testosterone overdose of COMMANDO had woken me up good and proper, making me want to stop at a video store on the way home to try and find THE RUNNING MAN for a “warm-down” flick. In the end it’s lucky I didn’t. I was awake enough to order Chinese food on the way home, (but mindfucked enough to mess up my bankcards PIN twice in the process) and stayed awke long enough to try to get the kid to bed, but I was starting to flag badly. Then, as I watched, Aiden faceplanted in his cot, did a powerlifter squat and stood up unassisted for the first time. (Or what I thought was the first time… Dawn said he was doing it the night before.) This little toddler-triumph proceeded to wake me back up again. (A couple of days later I also managed to trick a super-tired A.C into taking his first two wobbly steps by holding his sippy-cup just out of reach.)

But that was the last hurrah as far as my stamina went. I could only manage to watch a single episode of TOP GEAR, and even that was occasionally interrupted by my eyelids, before aiming my face in the general direction of my pillow at 8:30PM.

It had been a long 36 hours. That I’d gladly do again.

Well, except for that hour with all the jogging.

THE FINAL THOUGHTS

Tough year for me this time. It felt like a strong, diverse line-up of the familiar and the obscure, but that 2AM-breakfast stretch turned my brain into tapioca pudding. I was physically and mentally off-kilter for most of the show, didn’t bring enough solid food to stave off the 4AM munchies and had to roll out of bed at 7am to work 12 consecutive hours over two jobs the next day. I’ve spent a frustrating fortnight(!) trying to find enough hours in the day to write this review, sometimes staring at the screen for minutes at a time trying to remember what the hell happened in what order. Like I said, tough year.

I had a great time.

Let’s face it, if it was easy, what’d be the point in going? I’ve told dozens of people about the marathon over the years. Not one of them thought they could do it. I wear the fact that I’ve spent the last eight years getting royally brain-raped by Ants bottomless wealth of cinematic mayhem as a badge of Filmhead honour. And long may it continue.

Now, let’s get ready to start the next decade, shall we?

THE THANK YOUS

To all the usual suspects, Ant and his crew, the Hollywood, our three-man projection team and Margaret the Queen of the Wurlitzer, I thank you. To my family, thanks for letting me indulge my nerdity once again. And to the directionally-challenged Bakery Lady, let me just say… thanks for a pretty good lamington.

The 2009 Vendetta Marathon Mix-Mixed by Skeeter.
1) Wurlitzer Intro
2) Superfly TNT-Radio Spot
3) The Hell Raisers-(“Something Weird”Theme)
4) The Last Dragon
5) Children of Dune-Summon the Worms
6) They Live-Coming to L.A
7) Love Gun-KISS-(From “Role Models”)
8) Nurses For Sale-Radio Spot
9) Grindhouse-Main Theme
10) Come What May (Remix)-(From “Moulin Rouge”)
11) The Black Gestapo-Main Titles
12) Hell Up in Harlem-Radio Spot
13) Speed-Main Titles
14) Still in Hollywood-(From “The Hidden”)
15) Intermission
16) Transformers-Autobots
17) Underground-(From “Labyrinth”)
18) Hang ‘em High-Main Titles
19) 1408-Waking Up in L.A
20) We Live to Rock (Let’s Tune Our Weapons)-(From “Rock & Roll Nightmare”)
21) The Holy Mountain-Eye of the Beholder
22) The Green Slime-Main Theme
23) Hot Shots!-Main Titles
24) The Crawling Thing/Creature of Evil-Radio Spot
25) Mad Max 2-End Titles
26) Togther in Electric Dreams-(From “Electric Dreams”)
27) Requiem For a Dream-Theme (Remix)

The 2002 V Movie Marathon: 9 Hours, 5 films, no sleep.

The 2003 V Movie Marathon: 8 Hours, 5 and-a-half Films, No Hasslehof.

The 2004 V Movie Marathon, Part 1: 24 Hours, 13 Films and the best Puppet Sex Scene ever.
The 2004 V Movie Marathon, Part 2: These reviews are going to get really long, huh?

The 2005 V Movie Marathon, Part 1: 24 Hours, 12 Films, 1 Flipped Reel.
The 2005 V Movie Marathon, Part 2: BREAKIN'!


The 2006 V Movie Marathon, Part 1: 24 Hours, 13 Films and a long talk with George Hardy
The 2006 V Movie Marathon, Part 2: Featuring The WORST MOVIE EVER MADE. Only, not really that bad.
The 2006 V Movie Marathon, Part 3: Hi, George!

The 2007 V Movie Marathon, Part 1
: 24 Hours, 12 Films and a Maimed Squirrel
The 2007 V Movie Marathon, Part 2
: Movie 3 Does Not Exist. Move Along.
The 2007 V Movie Marathon, Part 3: EXTREME MIDGET F-----G!

The 2008 V Movie Marathon, The Prologue: 24 Hours, 14 Films and very few bathroom breaks.
The 2008 V Movie Marathon, Part 1
: SHO'NUFF!
The 2008 V Movie Marathon, Part 2
: Pump DOWN the Volume.
The 2008 V Movie Marathon, Part 3
: Inbreds, Claymation and an extended breakfast. Mmm, breakfast.
The 2008 V Movie Marathon, Part 4
: The biggest contrast between penultimate film and final film yet.

I love it when it seems like Christmas has come early. In 2008, it happened twice. The first time being when my wife asked me to bring in some shopping from the car recently. I complied, muttering under my breath about why I needed to hump my ass out there to collect what I thought would be some baby clothes. I instead found a home theatre system and the cabinet for a 40-inch Sony Bravia TV that was being delivered the next day. (A screen so sweet it can make even the worst movie look awesome. Okay, maybe not Black Devil Doll From Hell, but there are still limits to our human technology.) I’m in love all over again. With my wife, not the TV. Okay, both.

 

My second early Christmas present arrived when the 2008 V movie Marathon  was announced as showing on December the 6^th, at least a month later that ever before. This was a bonafide stroke of luck for me.You see, if the Marathon had been scheduled at the end of September as is had last year, the chances of me attending would have been near zero. For one very special reason.

 

Aiden Conner Skeet (aka “A.C”, “Dribbly Dan” or “Senor Stinky” depending on his mood or nappy status) was born September 25^th by emergency C-section. A nine-pounder at birth, he’s currently sucking down a lot of milk, playing happily with his babygym and whizzing on his Dad at every possible opportunity.  Of course, if the ‘Fest was playing while he was only a few weeks old, I wouldn’t have had the energy to show up, let alone stay awake for enough of the show to make it worthwhile.

 

By December, however, he was an entire TEN weeks old, and had slept through the night for the first time a week or so before. And so I was given a 24-hour baby furlough to go get my geek on for another year. My mother also stayed overnight with Dawn and A.C, needing only the slenderest excuse to hang with her grandson.

 

I had secured my ticket some months before the arrival, having decided that Ant (who admitted to constantly losing money on these things) had comped me more than enough shows to make up for the 2002 double-pay fiasco. Besides, my lack of time and sleep right now could make this review a) Disjointed or b) Shorter and less meticulously anal this year. (Or possibly not… I started this review at 8:30pm on Sunday the 7^th, just four and a half hours after the end of the show. I’ve had 40 minutes sleep in the last 36 hours. We’re going to need a bigger spellchecker.) The ticket price had climbed to NZ$50 this year, plus a couple of dollars booking fee as for the first time pre-sales were being made through Ticketek.

 

I prepped for the day with my usual “training regime” of genre films and previous Marathon picks, showing AC his first Godzilla flick in the process. He was fascinated by the large moving images, but the subtleties of Godzilla 2000’s plot were probably lost on him. Maybe next year. I also managed to track down Abigail Leslie is Back in Town, another Joe Sarno skinflick featuring pretty much the entire cast of Confessions of a Young American Housewife. Put the kid to bed, we’ve got filth and sleaze to watch! (And yes, “Mom” from Confessions plays the main characters swinger auntie this time. Joe has issues.)

 

As usual, I had made up a selection of CD Mixtapes for the event. Thanks to the wonderful diversity of people on the Internet, I had managed to drag out some obscurities including tracks from Toys Are Not For Children and the “I Feel Good” number from Revenge of the Cheerleaders. I only made up 15 or so, but was helped out by a find of Red Seal CD-ROMs. (5 discs for three bucks at The Warehouse! And not one defective disc. I love a bargain.) I tried to pack lightly as far as snackage went this time. As usual, I brought a few leftovers home, but I think I judged it pretty well for a change. In fact I would probably have had nothing left except for the usual B-Movie generosity when it came to snacks. I was offered everything from potato chips to home-made cupcakes to bizarre sherbet-studded Easter Eggs. The 2008 Survival Checklist ran as follows:

 

1 pkt Iced Animal biscuits

1 Jumbo pack Allens Party Mix confectionary

1 10-pack Little Rippers mild salami sticks

2 bananas

1 frozen water bottle

 

1 pillow

My blankie

1 spare t-shirt in case of snack-food related spills

1 sweatshirt

1 fully charged torch

Notebook and 2 pens

1 pencil in case I lost my pens. (I promptly lost the pencil and haven’t seen since.)

1 bootleg CD-ROM of Abigail Leslie

My video camera

 

Most of the B-Movie Crew were attending this year. (Apart from Steve Austin, who was hitting the Wellington show instead.) Regulars included Andrea, Andrew Todd, Steve Chow and Doug “Fallback” Dillaman, who was even flying up from his current digs in Dunedin for the weekend. Dave Brough flew up from Wellington as always. And is set to attending the Wellington show a week later. Dude, you’re insane. In a good way. One returning marathoner was Ben, aka Cosmo, who last attended the eight-hour Marathon in 2003. This would be his first 24-hour show… hey, everyone! New fish! New fish! (Man, I have to re-watch The Shawshank Redemption soon.)

 

I was ready to roll for the Hollywood before 3pm. Aiden was ready a bit after. Wanna guess when we left? Well, he’s the boss…

 

V-DAY

 

Prologue: Holy Crap, Where is Everyone?

 

We rolled into Avondale about  3:30PM, which was definitely the closest to showtime I’ve ever arrived. Not only was the usual street-long nerd-line not there this time, I could only see two people just inside the doorway. I guess the pre-ticketing system sped things up immensely this year. Dawn parked in the Towaway Zone of Death (Otherwise know as the space in front of the Surly Dairy Owners store… which I am still boycotting until he learns to stop being a dipwad.) and saw me off with a loving “Go have fun… nerd.”.

 

Inside I found Ant and his usual Marathon offsiders manning the ticket desk. Oddly, he seemed relieved I’d made it. Presumably because I hadn’t been hanging around the theatre like a lost puppy for an hour or so. Trust me, dude, I could have been set on fire and I’d still show up for this event. I immediately ran into Annette, whom I shall not refer to as “Ms. Fallback” this year. She’d joined the B-Movie crew this year, proving near-invulnerable to the kind of weirdness and sleaze we’ve been subjecting ourselves to. (Although Death Bed: The Bed That Eats nearly finished us once and for all.) Doug showed up seconds later from inside the theatre. B-Movie Crew, assemble!

 

Once I found my way inside, I discovered that my optimistic thoughts of not bouncing around the theatre as usual were not to be. Doug and his friends were staked out in the beanbag section to the left of the stage. Andrea and Ben (And Ben’s awesome serial-killer teddy bear) were in the second row of fixed seating to the right. Having not gone for the beanbag option once again, I decided to preserve my back by packing into the stalls with Andrea and Ben. Kudos to the full row behind us, who not only put up with my joke cracking and bad puns during a couple of cheese-fests late in the ‘Thon, but were also just terrifically nice folks in the bargain.

 

By the time I had shown up, the Wurlitzer was already belting out the show tunes. It was a return engagement for Margaret, who played in 2005. She worked in the Star Wars theme again, for a good crowd reaction. Gotta play to your target audience. I grabbed some establishing shots of the place and shot out to get opening remarks on camera from Ant. He jokingly threatened to screen Mama Mia: The Sing-along Edition this year. In retrospect, that would have hurt less that the 2am flick.

 

Finally, Margaret dropped out of sight and Ant hit the stage. (Eventually… it sounded like he got snagged on something trying to make his appearance.) He promised the most diverse line-up yet, having turned off his internal filtering system that would have rejected films if they might not have wide appeal to the nerd-herd. He also ran through the house rules, causing amusement in my section for rule 3: No Recording Devices of Any Kind. I was of course videotaping the intro. Reviewing the footage, there a few seconds of “Blair Witch-cam” as I lower the camera into a less obvious position. But Ant knows I’m not bringing that to bootleg new films. Besides, it’s a DVD camera that shoots 30 minutes of footage per disc. Somehow, international DVD Piracy isn’t high on my list of get-rich-quick schemes.

 

I was extremely surprised to be name checked in the “Thank Yous” section, along with Austin and Dave, for “Keeping the dream alive”. You’re welcome, Ant. You keep programming them, we’ll keep showing up.

 

And so, at ten minutes past the hour, we were ready to roll. With a promised fourteen movies on offer (A record for Auckland and record-equalling with the 2004 Wellington show) we were going to have to keep things tight and pray for as few film breaks as possible. The light dimmed, the curtains opened.

 

Bring it on.

Part 1: Can I Give You a Lift?

Saturday, 16:10-LADY IN A CAGE

 

For the second year in a row, Ant pulls something for the archives that’s older than most of the audience. (Do I sense a new tradition starting?) Like last years Kitten With a  Whip which we treated to a pristine black-and-white print of this 1963 drama starring Olivia de Havilland and James Caan. (Looking incredibly young, he actually was billed with the “Introducing…” credit.) It was obviously made at the time when the post-war optimism was giving way to the more cynical Vietnam years of the 70’s. There’s a gritty realism to its underlying message that most peoples field of concern is pretty narrow. It’s always someone else’s problem, yeah?

 

The plot revolves around the plight of a lady in her senior years who, through a combination of circumstances becomes trapped in her personal elevator on a busy holiday weekend. A broken hip prevents her from the obvious ways of escape, and even when she can open the doors, she’s unable to drop to the floor without risking serious injury. (The crowd murmuring was along the lines of “I can jump from that’, but then again, no-one in the crowd was a retiree with brittle bones as far as I could tell.)

 

To make matters worse, her overly-mothered (and possibly closeted gay) son has left for the weekend… and unbeknownst to her is planning suicide. Complications mount as the house is discovered by a local alcoholic and thief, then continue to snowball as he’s spotted by the most evil man of 1963… James Caan.

 

Seriously, James Caan plays Randall, a complete and utter bastard in this film. Doug thought he was doing his best Marlon Brando, but frankly, it works. His character really has no redeeming qualities whatsoever, and by the end of the flick you’re itching for him to get the sort of comeuppance dished out to Jesse Lee Kane in Fight For Your Life. (Who was equally evil, but at least TRIED to explain his nasty streak with a sob story about his childhood.) Randall is so nasty that Olivia’s summing-up of him not only scored Line of the Night honours, but also popped the crowd big-time.

 

“I see. You’re one of those pieces of offal produced by the welfare system!:.

 

Full marks for character assessment, love, minus several million for making friends and influencing psychopathic people.

 

Along for the ride are a out-of-her depth hustler, Randall’s uber-sexed and spaced-out girlfriend and their slightly-sociopath friend, the Worlds Skinniest Latino. Turn the fan up to high, because the shit is on the way.

 

I’m not going into depth about the plot twists, but rest assured, it’s a compelling watch. I was fooled right off the bat by the intense credit sequence, thinking for a few seconds Ant was throwing a curve ball and screening Psycho due to the black-and-white footage and the marching vertical lines at the start. The performances are excellent all round and one stunt had me cringing. It’s been 45 years, but if the stuntman is still alive, he’s probably still feeling the effects of that fall every morning. It’s also surprisingly brutal, doubly so for the time period. In fact, there are two phrases in my notebook I never thought I’d write about one movie.

 

“Olivia de Havilland”

“Eyeball Violence”

 

I’m not kidding.

 

So, a good start with an underrated classic being shown to the masses. Let’s kick of the Running Themes List!

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: Repent! Sin! Repent! Dude, make up your mind!

Horrific Leg Injury?: If the broken hip counts, yes.

Women of Dubious Morals?: Randall’s girlfriend kick-started this category. Which was originally called “Trampy Sexpots” before I got PC.

Pointy Metal Violence?: Twice, once comedic, once cringe-worthy.

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: Yo homes, get esse there a sandwich, eh?

Hairy Chests?: Religious Drunkard had hairy everything. Ew.

 

Skeeters Summary: If this is going to be the “Film Classix” spot, could we get a Bogart flick next year?

 

We were joined at this time by Esther, a co-worker from one of my current three jobs. (Yeah, I’m still a full-time part-timer.) Her boyfriend and her had switched rows after discovering someone in their section was either suffering a gastric upset, or was just proving the James Caan wasn’t the only person who could belch on cue. Repeatedly.

 

PART 2: NERD-GASM!

Sunday, 17:50-KRULL

 

Newsflash. I am an enormous geek.

 

I know, it came as a shock to me too. It probably shouldn’t have, what with the three bags full of Dungeons and Dragons books and the box of 2000AD comics in the shed, the constant bullying at school and serious Sci-Fi Novel addiction I suffered from in my teens. But frankly, put me and Napoleon Dynamite in the same room and I can’t even compete. I’ve never worn a pocket protector. I’ve attended exactly ONE Live-Action Roleplay and found it fun, yet slightly embarrassing. I don’t program anything more high-tech than a VCR, and then it’s usually got a 20% chance of failing to save the right show.

 

But Movie #2 was the start of a trifecta of films that would conclusively prove my film geek credentials. Ant intro’ed it as one of the hundreds of post Star Wars flicks “Inspired” by Old Beardface’s magnum opus. Many were terrible, he said, and for one glorious second I thought we were going to see a poofy-haired David Hasslehof in Star Crash. Others were overly-ambitious., he continued, and we were going to see one of those. The film started, a starscape was seen and then…

 

Remember how I managed to identify The Thing in 2004 by the production companies name and the title font? Same here. Only this time it was the music. Two notes in I sat bolt upright and blurted “Oh my God, it’s Krull!” I think this display of uber-geekery impressed even members of the B-Movie Crew.

 

I was pretty psyched, though. Yes, I know the special effects are dated. The blue-screen work is particularly ropey these days. (One remark from the stalls was that bluescreens were so named because the results made you cry.) Yes, it’s episodic enough that there should be chapter headings and near the end the words “The Princess is in another Black Fortress” should flash on screen. Some of the acting is a little broad and the stets are… well, obvious sets. But frankly, I loved this film when I was eleven and I love it now. This is the movie that changed the storyline of the sci-fi space opera my best friend Gavin and I played out every time we dragged out my TORO building blocks. Pre-Kull, it was a rip-off of the Star Force TV series. Post-Krull, our “Earth Defense Federation” was suddenly under constant attack from Slayers. It was truly the coolest thing I’d ever seen on a movie screen. In fact, I basically had a major nerd-spasm the moment I realised I was about to re-watch it on the big screen for the first time in over twenty years.

 

Think this is going to be a POSITIVE review? Am I that transparent?

 

For those that haven’t seen it, it’s a British sci-fi/fantasy that does takes the same classic adventure template Mr. Lucas used and transports it to a galaxy… well, you know where. An Uber-evil force from beyond arrives, cries havoc and unleashes the dogs of war before kidnapping a beautiful woman with what Ben referred to as “Sarah Brightman Hair” . A young and strangely American-accented warrior prince (All the better to sell the flick in the territories, wot what?) sets out to rescue his beloved accompanied by a aging sage. Our proto-Skywaker  seeks out an ancient weapon that’s controlled by the Force… of his will. He joins forces with the Rebel…ious bandits. (All right, enough obvious correlations. I’m finding my own lack of faith disturbing.) It culminates in a rip-roaring storming of the Big Bads lair where the Power of True Love helps save the day.

 

Yeah, that’s your plot summary. Trust me, going into details would be like dissecting a favourite pet.

 

Looking at it all these years later, the movies flaws are much more obvious, and yet they lend the production a certain charm. The prothstetics used on Rell the Cyclops still look quite good, but adult eyes can see poor Bernard Bresslaw scrabbling blindly to pick up his spear in several scenes. You can see several UK thespians making obvious transitions from the stage to the screen. Comic relief wizard Ergo the Magnificent is the most glaring, appearing to think he’s doing a panto at Brighton-on-Sea. Several of the older actors treat their part as if they were playing King Lear, projecting the hell out of their lines. An early role for Liam Neeson is fun today, as his more naturalistic delivery steals many a scene. 

 

 

The effects are a mixed bag these days. The aforementioned rear projection sequence drew a lot of laughs, and I have to admit the thick black outlines were pretty distracting. The Slayers interesting habit of having their brains erupt from their skulls on the moment of death holds up pretty well, and is almost as cool now as it was when I was a kid. The costumes for the white-suited “Snow Slayers” are still pretty sweet and spark-spitting swordfights never lose their appeal. In fact, the only really ugly effects now are the horribly primitive morphing used to change Ergo into space geese and cosmic tigers. But hey, in 1983 I had a Commodore VIC-20, so who am I to complain about their computer graphics?

 

But for me, the film rises above its technical limitations and less than cutting-edge effects. It’s a two-hour long journey down Memory Lane with a diversion down This Is Awesome Street. In fact, there’s only one way to get a subjective take on this film.

 

Someone find me an eleven-year-old boy.

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: Not really.

Horrific Leg Injury?: Horrific torso injury… Hey, remember when “kids films” could still feature impalements?

Women of Dubious Morals?: More like a changeling of confused morals.

Pointy Metal Violence?: The Glaive is still the coolest weapon in the universe. It’d still be a bitchkitty to catch, though.

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: There’s a character called “Titch”, so yeah.

Hairy Chests?: Swarthy bandits abound.

 

Skeeters Summary: Yeah, I kinda like this film. Can you tell?

 

We took our first break, although the packed schedule meant they were pretty brief this year. (Suck it down quick, smokers!) The major result of the shortened breaks… no trailers or Youtube weirdness this year. We’re all about the features in ’08 baby! I was so buzzed from Krull that I gifted all bar one of my remaining Mixtape CD’s to the row behind me. (I passed the last one to Ant later to hand off to whoever he thought would appreciate it.) Kudos to the young lady who also accepted my bootleg Joe Sarno skinflick. Enjoy your sleaze!

 

Time for our first premiere, and the only one of the three new flicks to not be a horror. It was in fact a comedy. Could it break the trend of most modern comedies and actually be, well… funny?

 

Part 3: Dude, Where’s My Broadsword?

Saturday, 20:00-ROLE MODELS

 

I’ve had a real problem with Hollywoods idea of “funny” these days. In the last few years I’ve been assured by friends and co-workers of the abject hilarity of such flicks as Dodgeball, (I laughed once) Blades of Glory, (You’re not funny, Will Ferrell) and Wedding Crashers. (Well, this is mildly amusing… hey, fuck off Will Ferrell, you’re not funny in this one either!) I forced myself to sit through a SKY TV screening of Epic Movie, the anti-matter of comedy which made Schindlers List look like Blazing Saddles by comparison. Hollywood has lost the plot. Comedy ain’t funny anymore.

 

That being said, Role Models is fucking hilarious.

 

It’s a buddy/slacker/nerd comedy directed by David Wain, whose first feature Wet Hot American Summer has been on my “should watch” list for a while. (And is now on my “Must watch” list) It’s got some cracking dialogue, a hilarious-but-not-odious foul-mouth black kid, a realistic teenage Renaissance Dweeb and dozens of excellent supporting players. It’s by turns funny as hell, heart-warming, profane and uplifting. Oh, and while it doesn’t feature any extending pooping-or-puking gags, (Thank Christ!) it does feature several gorgeous starlets who are willing to doff their tops for the camera. I think that’s a really sensible trade-off.

 

Sure, maybe we were the target audience. But judging by the audience reaction, it was the perfect choice of flick.

 

It’s coming soon to a theatre near you. Go see it, or I’ll go completely KISS Demon on your ass.

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: With the amount of nerds, geeks and dweebs on screen, I’d say that the chance of someone with OCD is a safe bet.

Horrific Leg Injury?: One of the few films this year NOT to have graphic leg trauma.

Women of Dubious Morals?: Yep. Hellllo, boobs!

Pointy Metal Violence?: In a strictly foamy, non-lethal sense.

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: [Ogre]NERRRRRRDDDDS![/Ogre]

Hairy Chests?: See above.

 

Skeeters Summary: You see, Ben Stiller? Now THAT’S funny!

 

We were three films in and all three had been good. This made us a shade nervous. Was Ant setting us up for a sudden plummet to the depth of craptitude? Well, yes. Just not yet.

 

Part 4: Sho-NUFF!

Saturday, 22:00-THE LAST DRAGON

 

I am an enormous geek.

 

For the second time in four movies, I identified the flick from the soundtrack. The scary thing about that is… I’ve never seen The Last Dragon. I had simply listened to the theme tune some months back while collecting tracks for the Mixtape. It starts with a distinctive synthesizer sting that I’m sure was sampled for a video game back in the 80’s. That first note was enough for me to pick the flick. Yes, behold the King of the Movie Soundtrack Nerds! Bow, peasants! Lower!

 

The Last Dragon is an odd beastie of a film. Produced by Berry Gordon and Motown Records, it’s a glorious mash-up of kung-fu, breakdancing, unexpected music videos and batshit insanity. Ben had remarked earlier that Krull seemed unsure of what genre it wanted to be. The Last Dragon puts that into perspective. One moment you’re watching an entire Debarge video, then abruptly there’s a man spouting faux-Oriental philosophy, followed by an unexpected kung-fu fight. While watching it, I kept picturing a group of Motown executives sitting in a boardroom with a massive tray of cocaine, trying to work out how to best blow a few million of Berry Gordon’s money.

 

I think they made a great choice.

 

Let’s get to the bullet points with what I recall. (Plot mangling ahoy!)

 

• Yeah, I’m sure that sting was heard when you dropped a 20-cent piece into an arcade machine. What the hell was it?
• The Last Dragon? This one has screened at B-Fest, the 24-hour marathon held in Chicago each year. I knew we’d start synching up eventually.
• Holy crap, our hero looks like David Allen Grier! Is this a lost episode of In Living Colour?
• You know, Mythbusters proved that no matter how good a martial artist you are, ain’t no man that can catch an arrow.
• Incidentally, does OSHA know about this guys training techniques? Someone’s going to lose an eye.
• Our Hero… Bruce Leroy! (Yes, he’s actually referred to as that at least once. We’ll just call him Leroy.)
• Leroy has completed his training and only requires to achieve “The Glow” to be a master. So long as it not Natural Glow, with its thousands of luminous spheres. That shit’s expensive.
• Meanwhile in a crappy dollar theatre, we get to watch a snippet of Enter the Dragon. This film just improved immensely.
• Oh, it’s one of those universes where EVERYONE knows kung-fu! The usher will probably break your nose if you put your feet on the seats.
• Nice editing to get reaction shots from Bruce Lee…
• Enter the… HOLY CRAP!
• That was the crowd reaction to “SHO-NUFF!”, possibly the greatest kung-fu villain in movie history. The Shogun of Harlem delivers one of the most over-the-top performances in Marathon history. And that just his afro.
• Speaking of which, one of his posse may not have had Bette Davis Eyes, but she sure as hell had massive Cindy Lauper hair.
• I wish I had a group of people to shout a personalised chant based on my name whenever I went to the movies. This guy earns the honour of ALWAYS having his name written in capitals.
• FIGHT SCENE! That’ll teach him to talk during the movie.
• Seriously, haven’t you ever wanted to go Jet Li on some schmuck who forgets to switch off his cellphone at the multiplex?
• Leroy calmly eats popcorn during the chaos… with chopsticks. I guess that’s the first sign this is an INTENTIONAL comedy.
• “I will not fight you, and I will also speak without ever using contractions. I do not think you will find this unusual.
• Enter 80’s vee-jay Vanity playing… a vee-jay. There’s a stretch.
• We pause for a lengthy music video. This was of course the movie that ensured the superstardom of Debarge that continues even today!
• Yes, that was mild sarcasm.
• Enter our villain, Eddie Arcadium, video game magnate. Boy, that last name was a lucky coincidence, huh?
• Lucky he wasn’t a villainous pimp. A character named Wally Whoremasterus would have never made it past the censors.
• Also enter one of the Sopranos and the worlds oldest potential pop princess.
• Actually, despite her shrill voice and terrible dancing, the song probably could have stood up as a single in the mid 80’s. If it had been given to Tiffany.
• Eddies Henchgoon has some sort of carnivorous fish in a tank. Would have been nice if they’d ever told us what it was.
• Eddies evil plans involve kidnapping Vanity’s character until she agrees to play his girlfriends music video. Did he not think of doing what most producers do and just drive a truck of money and drugs around all the TV and radio stations in town?
• Seriously, how influential IS Vanity’s TV show? This plot is as sensible as kidnapping David Letterman until he lets you do a stand-up spot on his show.
• Vanity gets a musical number. We’re on the Soooooooul Train. To Hell.
• Post-show, Leroy starts a minor running trend of being able to magically appear at the scene of any potential confrontation. Fight Scenes via Coincidence rule!
• I guess they couldn’t afford a windscreen to put that guy through.
• Maybe Leroy would be a master sooner if he didn’t lose the Mystical Amulet of Awesomeness his teacher gave him the first time he leaves the house with it.
• Meet Leroy’s family, and our second sassy black kid in two movies. He looked about ten, but had the cynicism and attitude of a 40-year-old. I liked him.
• Leroy’s little bro has one white friend, the Obligatory Fat Kid who looks like a midget Meatloaf. I dubbed this trio “The Urban Goonies”.
• Meanwhile, Leroy’s kung-fu class has equally-obligatory Asian Kid who can imitate Bruce Lee. They do make him the worst kung-fu guy, so I forgive them for this.
• Chop-socky slapstick ahoy!
• Hey Leroy, real ninjas don’t let people steal their masks.
• We kind of bounce around a few different plots for a while. Eddie is evil, SHO’NUFF! wants to fight Leroy, Vanity and Leroy have a couple of awkward romantic moments, Berry Gordon makes sure we get to hear tons of 80’s Motown tracks and Coca-Cola gets in as many blatant product plugs as possible.
• Comic Relief Urban Asian Guys!
• Man, the casual racism is kind of jarring in this flick. Not to mention geographically challenged. Jokes about sushi to a Chinese guy? Close, but no fortune cookie.
• On the other hand, Leroy’s line while disguised about “we all just look the same” did get a good laugh from our row.
• During the flick, SHO’NUFF! and his goons trash Leroy’s’ dad’s pizza parlour. I was mesmerised by the prices. Come back, 1980’s!
• There’s always one guy in the gang who’s just has to smash something on the way out in order to be a dick.
• This movie messes with your head. I can remember a lot of the scenes, but have no idea what order they go in. Luckily Ants got this scheduled for an MGM screening as part of the Incredibly Strange TV season soon.
• Eddies girlfriend gets decked out in used car parts for a music video. Even for the 80’s, that’s pushing it.
• The whole middle third of the film is a blur of neon and mind-bending dialogue. I told you this could be a disjointed review this year. Let’s skip to the end, soon after Leroy’s search for the master ended with the conclusion that “Hey, there WAS no master! What a gyp!”..
• No wait, let’s have a rap number while Bruce Lee clips play instead. No padding in THIS film.
• Eddie recruits a selection of badasses to take down Leroy. It’s the same scene from Blazing Saddles, only more… urban.
• H.B Haggarty! Man, he gets to fight Jackie Chan AND Bruce Le…roy.
• Eddie masterstroke is to kidnap Vanity (again) and Leroys’ little bro so he can… program music videos in an empty club. This plan needed a rethink.
• Leroy traps Bad Kung-Fu Asian Guy in a closet so he  can’t join in the rescue and get hurt. Maybe it’s the same closet Debarge came out of.
• Some little dude we’ve never met rescues Bad Kung-Fu Guy. By the end of the movie, I was wishing the kid was the star of the film.
• CLIMACTIC ONE MAN vs. DOZENS OF BAD GUYS FIGHT!
• CLIMACTIC KUNG-FU SCHOOL TO THE RESCUE RUMBLE
• CLI… holy CRAP is that little kid good!
• Man, this movie should have just been that eight-year-old kicking the crap out of people.
• His late appearance led me to the conclusion that they discovered him during production and wrote him in. He probably gets more screen-time than Leroy during the big rumble. Not to mention dropping an Electric Boogaloo Elbow.
• Time for the big showdown between SHO’NUFF! and Leroy. This is also time for the movie to hits us with scenes that made the film 80% awesome and 20% “What the fuck”?
• He’s got The Glow. Literally. SHO’NUFF!’s hands are glowing? Did I drink too much V too fast?
• Cartoon lightning bolts? Am I the only one seeing this?
• “WHO’S THE MASTER! WHO’S THE MASTER?!”. *flashback* “Oh, I’M the Master. Got it!”
• Cartoon Lightning Bolt Duel!
• Feeling a little “Flat” SHO’NUFF?
• Man, this is a weird ending. Never mind, crank some of Motowns least-requested and let’s get out of here.
• SHO’NUFF!

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: Eddie was pretty obsessive. And bald.

Horrific Leg Injury?: There’s no permanent injuries in the Kung-Fu Universe. Just a lot of ballsack abuse.

Women of Dubious Morals?: She’s called “Vanity” You’re thinking of the wrong sin.

Pointy Metal Violence?: Japanese ninja weapons. Wielded by a Chinese guy. *sigh*

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: Some of Leroy’s class needed a few more push-up, yeah.

Hairy Chests?: I was too distracted by Tower of Hair Girl to notice.

 

Skeeters Summary: Worth it for Kung-Fu Tyke alone. The camp value is just a bonus.

 

We had the briefest of reel-changing breaks and were off again. It seemed like everything was going silky-smooth in the projection booth. Apparently, by halfway through the night all fucking hell was actually breaking loose in there. HUGE props to the projectionists, because we would never have know if Ant hadn’t told us.

 

Our Featured Premiere was up next. Being a horror movie, I grabbed my security blankie and joined Doug’s crew in the beanbag section, figuring the hard wooden floor would keep me awake for longer this year.

Part 5: Vegetable Rights and PeOHGODNOTMYFACEEEEEE!

Saturday, 23:35-THE RUINS

 

So here it was. The only advertised movie. A film that had been released as Direct-to-DVD just a few days earlier. The Team America of 2008. A film that would prove to be the most divisive of the year. Some people loved it. Others thought it was okay. One person was heard to refer to it as “A load of fossilised Mayan zombie shit.”

 

Sadly, that last person was me.

 

On reflection, that was probably a little harsh. The trouble wasn’t that the film was terribly bad. I can handle bad. It was just a little too pedestrian for my taste. The film makers had an excellent concept for a horror film, but just couldn’t seem to find anything to do with it. Eventually they bit the bullet and sent the flick veering firmly into the Torture Porn genre that’s been all the rage since Saw was made.

 

But let’s run down the plot a little. Normally I don’t recap the premieres, but since it’s out on DVD already, why not? Just skip the next three paragraphs if you’re not reading this in 2009. The flick revolves around four oversexed, heavy drinking, hard partying American tourists in Mexico. (Okay, bonus points for a realistic portrayal of the average backpacker.) With just a couple of days left in their vacation, they meet up with a young German man who’s heading into the jungle to meet up with his brother, an archaeologist.(Along with a friend who’s not named. Hello, cannon fodder!) One of the Yanks decides the group needs to do something a little more cultural that drink tequila and boink like bunnies. Which is true, but if you don’t surf, what else is there to do in Mexico?

 

The early scenes are actually pretty decent. The chemistry between the actors is good, there’s a few genuine laughs to be had, and pretty much everyone is easy on the eye. (Not that I’m any judge of the blokes, but they did seem to be the usual buffed Hollywood leading men.) There’s also one of the quickest nude scenes I’ve ever seen… that young lady knew that the quicker she dressed, the less screencaps would be plastered all over the Internet, I guess.

 

Our intrepid foursome pack up and ship out into the wilderness with the Germans, and the first problem I had with the flick emerged. The film makers seem to subscribe to a very Travel Channel “Getting there is half the fun” attitude. And as anyone who’s travelled recently knows, no it ain’t. We get to see pretty much every step of their journey out to the old Mayan pyramid, and while it does let us get to know the group, it just left me wanting something to happen. Besides, like in most horror movies, the characters aren’t really given too many personality traits to share with us. One’s the sensible one, one of the girls is the party animal, one guys the slightly annoying joker, etc.

 

Eventually they do reach their destination… an ancient step pyramid festooned with lush vegetation. Before they can do much more than take a few photos, however, members of the local tribe show up armed to the teeth with bows and rifles. There’s some rather tense diplomatic negotiations, which are hampered by the fact that no-one speaks the same lingo. Things degenerate until…

 

Well, I won’t spoil it. Suffice it to say none of us saw it coming, and it got a good reaction even from us jaded, desensitized horror fans.

 

The Americans and the one remaining German (Bye, cannon fodder!) scamper up the pyramid to escape as the Mayans lay siege below. Once at the top they discover a few things. One, the Germans brother is missing, leaving behind his tent and possessions. Two, they’re well out of range for any cell phone reception. And three, they’re not alone.

 

And that’s where it all went wrong for me.

 

To unleash the spoilers, the pyramid is covered with living, carnivorous plants. The type that can infect you with a touch, filling your body with living, squirming tendrils. The Mayans showed up not to protect their sacred pyramid, but to prevent a bunch of stupid tourists from spreading this parasite into a populated area and causing the end of the world. It’s a great concept, but there’s one big problem with it.

 

The stupid plants don’t do jack shit.

 

For the majority of the movie, they’re completely passive, occasionally sending out a tendril to gently menace an already helpless human. For the most part you can stand in the middle of a plot of these Demonic Poppies and have them sit there, happily photosynthesising away. You die, and three seconds later, they carrying away your body like leafy vultures. If I was a carnivorous plant who was being denied regular meals by those pesky Indians, I’d be treating the group as a mobile buffet. And the first person that make a pun on “being stalked” would end up as fertilizer.

 

Sadly, it’s not to be. The final score is Plants 1, Mayans 2 and Common Sense -3. I was in a mild stage of rage at some of the idiotic decisions made by the group. One member of your group has been injured in a badly thought-out escape plan? Why not send someone else into the same dangerous situation  to rescue them? Because then you end up with TWO injured people, that’s why! One of them suffering the grisliest leg injury since The Descent.

 

The center part of the film is also taken up by that staple of horror films, endless bickering and in-fighting. A long and irritating verbal battle develops as one character flips out and decides two of her friends are having sex outside her tent. (Which considering both are fully clothed when she confronts them ten seconds later is somewhat of a stretch.) This quickly degenerates into a who’s-boffing-who shouting match. Um, guys? You’re surrounded by hostile natives and South American Triffids. If I was in that situation, I could discover my wife giving my best friend a blowjob while humming “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”, and my reaction would still be “We’ll talk about this later, now let’s work on how we get the hell out of here.”

 

Eventually we get the big money shot, as the groups medical student (There’s always one, huh?) performs a couple of emergency amputations with a rock and a small fruit knife. According to Dave Brough, this scene ran much longer in the unrated DVD edition, but even in the truncated form, it’s not for the squeamish. Wigged-Out Chick ups the gore factor by going Hellraiser on herself with the same knife, leading to a sequence that made me decide the plants were actually a LOT smarter that the tourists in this flick. (Because if one of your friends gets stabbed trying to disarm a knife-wielding girl, the best course of action is to try the same thing yourself rather than, I don’t know, winding up and popping the crazy hosebeast in the face. Not very PC, I know, but sometimes, needs must…)

 

 The film ended on one of the weakest stingers I’ve witnessed in a while. I believe I used the phrase “Was that it?” as the credits rolled.

 

If there’s ever a sequel made, I’m rooting for the plants.

 

Heh. Root. See what I did there?

 

Oh, please yourself.

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: More a case of being the most extreme eco-warriors on the planet.

Horrific Leg Injury?: Yes, yes, and HELL yes.

Women of Dubious Morals?: No more so than most backpackers. So, yes.

Pointy Metal Violence?: Arrows are pointy.

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: Not as much as the other films. Hollywood loves its gym-addicted leading men.

Hairy Chests?: Backpacker stubble yes, but these guy had man-waxes, torso-wise.

 

Skeeters Summary: Not a giant pile of fossilised Mayan zombie shit. But mediocre at best.

 

I returned to the cheap seats for the next flick. We’re five films in, and by my count four have been either excellent or at least high-camp fun. Man, when Ant decides to bring out the brutal stuff, we’re going to suffer.

 

Part 6-Screaming: The Motion Picture

Sunday, 01:40-DESPERATE LIVING

 

Gentlemen, start your suffering! Ant finally brings a John Waters flick to the ‘Thon. Waters is a director I’ve never had a lot of experience with, with a single viewing of Pecker the only flick of his I’ve ever watched. But the next time someone (i.e. You, Steve Austin) tells me I should watch Pink Flamingos, I have the perfect comeback.

 

It’ll be the words “Fuck you”.

 

Not too eloquent, I’ll admit, but they’ll be heartfelt. Because Mr. Walters gave me the most painful 90 minutes at a “V” since the slow brain-death of Psychout to Murder way back in 2004. And we’re talking real, physical pain.

 

I wasn’t all his fault. You see, prior to The Last Dragon Ant had instructed the projectionist to “Crank It!”. Which they did. Unfortunately, he neglected to tell them to de-crank the volume at the end of the flick. So anything said above a normal speaking voice was up at the threshold of pain. Which is a bad thing in a flick where EVERYBODY SHOUTS EVERY FUCKING LINE!

 

It started so innocently… if you disregard the credit sequence that shows a cooked rat being eaten. (Off-camera, which would be the last ounce of restraint in the film) The opening dialogue gives no hint to the insanity to come. Then, after thirty or forty seconds of conventionality, we’re introduced to our leading lady, the brilliantly-named Mink Stole. She’s playing Mrs Gravel, who’s having something of a mental breakdown. And how do we know that? Mainly because of the fact that she’s screaming her tits off. And how do people react to Mrs. Gravel screaming her tits off? By screaming THEIR tits off back at her! And if they’re not screaming, they’re yelling. And shrieking. And occasionally caterwauling.

 

Remarkably, the only character in the whole flick who didn’t yell his lines was one playing a royal page. I’m assuming there was some warped sense of irony at work.

 

Within five minutes Esther had ducked out to the lobby to see if the staff could drop the volume a few million decibels. Apparently not. The aural assault continued as we took in the wafer-thin plot. Mrs. Gravel and her huge nurse Griselda accidentally kill Mr Gravel during one of Mrs. Gravels bad days. They go on the lam, ending up in a bizarre town of freaks, dykes and nudists, ruled over by a nasally-voiced queen with more sexual deviations than the entire British Conservative Party.

 

It’s basically an excuse to film as much twisted shit as possible. I remarked later that if I was going to list the acts of perversity in the film, I would have needed an extra notebook. Some scenes, such as the bit where Mrs. Gravel discovers one of her children in the refrigerator, were appreciated by the audience. Others, such as the morbidly obese lesbian sex scene ,didn’t fly quite so well.

 

In fact, this movie was a classic example of “Be careful what you wish for”. One of the things we long-time marathoners expect, look forward to and if you’re me, demand, is gratuitous full-frontal nudity. Most years, it’s been in the first flick, if not in a trailer during the pre-game show. This year, we had to wait a long time. There was some coy and brief backal nudity in The Ruins. The were some perky boobs in Role Models. But the first glimpse of the Holy Triangle (if you get my drift) of the show came in this flick. During an extended scene where a police officer parades around in womens underwear in a state of shrieking transvestite ecstasy. The first full-on full frontal arrives soon after. It’s male frontal nudity. Later there’s a 300-pound woman screaming at Mrs. Gravel during the aforementioned ugly-as-fuck lesbian scene. Hells bells, John even manages to work in an obviously gay man giving the overweight queen of Freaksville a lapdance in exchange for a spanking. And did I mention that an early scene involved the melting down Mrs. Gravel discovering her son and daughter playing doctor? (Literally, stethoscope and all.) We were one botched camera angle away from either having to collectively turn ourselves into the cops or join the Catholic priesthood. Mrs. Gravels reaction to them (“SODOMITES!”) was one of the more laugh-out-loud moments, however,

 

Thanks bundles, Ant. I it wasn’t for the late-night screening of Bobby Joe and the Outlaw that’s showing on MGM as I write this, I’d never want to see nude people ever again. Bless your heart, Lynda Carter. You may continue skinny-dipping.

 

There was some breakfast time discussion about the way the film switched focus half-way through. Mrs. Gravel and Griselda faded into the background as a couple of (constantly hollering) lesbians took center stage. Presumably John just decided they were the more interesting characters. Their storylines involved fatal outbreaks of pro wrestling, badly-realised sex-change operations via Papier Mache and a lot of impromptu surgery. It also did garner another good laugh after the towns resident princess is infected with rabies (Don’t ask.) leading to Bubble-headed Lesbian Hotties great line of “In the circumstances, we’ll have to ask you not to use our cultlery.”

 

The film climaxed (noisily) with homicide, regicide and a cannibalistic wrap party. Well, we made it. We have spent ninety minutes inside the head of John Waters. We have seen things that can not be unseen. My ears are bleeding and my only note reads “What the bleeding fuck?”.  It’s time like this that makes me question my own sanity in turning up for the Marathon each year.

 

Of course, it’s also times like these that KEEP me turning up each year!

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: Definite mental illness in effect, but more a generalised drooling insanity.

Horrific Leg Injury?: That wasn’t her LEG she cut off, no.

Women of Dubious Morals?: Pretty much all of them.

Pointy Metal Violence?: There’s a form of violence for every taste, really.

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: There wasn’t a single example of Hollywoods ideal body shape as far as I could see.

Hairy Chests?: Yes, but the frontal nudity distracts you from their torsos.

 

Skeeters Summary: Well, if there’s a movie screening tonight that provides a worse aural experience, I’ll eat my shorts. (Foreshadowing, foreshadowing…)

 

Part 7-U.S.A! U.S.A! U…BOOM!

Sunday, 03:25-KING DINOSAUR

 

With fourteen movies to burn through, they weren’t all going to be epics. This 50’s sci-fi flick from the king of super-cheap Giant Monster flick Bert I Gordon runs a scant 63 minutes. Ironically, about fifteen minutes of it are stock footage, and most of that is right off the bat. The first 10 minutes alone is about 80% recycled footage of  spinning radar dishes, rocket tests and scientists peering intently at oscilloscopes and analogue readouts. After I while I remarked that if they was any more stock footage, a Bigfoot movie was liable to break out.

 

Now you might think that a somewhat talky, stock footage-filled  quickie at 3.30am would be a quick ticket to Sleepyville. Not likely. Sure, the two cans of V and the cup of strong coffee probably helped. (Screw my caffeine intake, I’m not planning on another kid anytime soon.) But for us in the stalls, this was a fun flick to watch. And yes, mock. From B.I.G’s reduced-budget special effects to the goofy space costumes, the portentous narration to the goofy plot, we cracked wise throughout most of the flick. (I did start to hear some snores near the end, though… Time to break out the cattle prod, Ant!)

 

For those wanting a detailed recap, head over to jabootu.net and read the scene-by-scene account penned by B-Movie doyen Ken Begg. To sum it up in a few lines, a new planet wanders into our solar system and sets up shop right next door. (The devastating effects on our tidal system is helpfully not addressed.) America rolls a space program into action. Lots of rockets explode via stock footage. Apparently this was back when NASA was more suited to making fireworks than interplanetary vessels. After lots of booms, we send mice into space. Then humans. And finally, we blast off for the newly christened Planet Nova. And blast off they do, keeping the main engine on full burn all the way from Earth to Nova. This caused a wave of laughter as Bert tacked footage of the rocket travelling horizontally, engine spouting flame, over a pine forest. Might want to switch the engine off in the atmosphere, Captain. Unless you’re intending to park that thing in the planets core.

 

Of course, they manage to land via the perfectly-realised technique of reversing the takeoff footage and superimposing it over footage of a field. Wait, did I say “Perfectly-realised”? That was probably a typo. I meant “laughable”. Two members of the crew don deep-sea diving outfits… spacesuits! I meant space suits. That’s what they are, all right. Heading out, they subject the atmosphere to a battery of tests to see if it’s breathable. All of which seem less than necessary once they point out the stock footage deers and bearcubs frolicking nearby.

 

The science scenes garnered a lot of laughs, none more so when one of the crew tries to peer into a microscope. She’s still wearing her titanic fishbowl helmet, of course. (“Houston, we have a problem. Everyone’s an idiot and I can’t see a frickin’ thing!”). They also proved conclusively what the U.S.A considered essential equipment for an interplanetary journey… a microscope, a tape recorder the size of coffee table, a selection of rifles and an A-Bomb. (Gee, I wonder if that’ll come in handy?) More amusement stemmed from some wild intuitive leaps. “We have no idea of the planets daily cycle. So let’s say it’s 3 in the afternoon!”. Sure, Captain. And while we’re about it, let’s say it’s Christmas Day, too! 

 

One of the featured players turned up mid-way through the flick. Little Joe the Honey Bear (Sorry, SPACE Honey Bear, I guess) did his fuzzy level best to steal the show. Which is pretty easy to do when you spend half the flick being swung around by your tail. Could we get a representative of the Humane Society on-set, stat? He also had the ability to vanish from scenes at will, thanks to Bert primitives grasp of continuity. In fact, for a roving planet of Mystery, Planet Nova was well-stocked with suspiciously familiar flora and fauna. Of course, Bert can’t resist tossing in a giant insect to menace the crew  part-way through the flick. (The initials “B.I.G” became a trademark as Bert’s career advanced. Giant grasshoppers, Amazing Colossal Men, oversized rodents and titanic ants were all part of his future films.) The special effects on this are less than awe-inspiring, seeing as how the matting make it somewhat transparent. Okay, REALLY transparent.

 

Speaking of primitive, did you see that word “Dinosaur” in the titles? Well, if you’re expecting some 50’s Jurassic Park action, you have to be prepared to wait. Throughout the flick one character constantly  wants to go check out an island which is (depending on the line of dialogue you choose to believe) is either covered in strange vegetation or barren as all get out. Once on the Mysterious Island of Mystery, our all-American heroes (finally) encounter a terrifying selection of… well, lizards with spikes and horns glued on. (Hey, Humane Society? We’re really sorry, yeah?) For our entertainment we get long, painful scenes of an iguana (Playing a T-Rex… um, sure.) and a small alligator fighting while the humans hide in a cave. The manly space captain does get injured during the tussle, but only because he runs to save Little Joe. Dude, there’s only a choice of four, but you’re officially the biggest idiot on the planet.

 

A skink turns up (Me: “Look! A triceratops!”) to join in the battle. Our heroes beat a hasty retreat, running into a mammoth. A MAMMOTH mammoth, seeing as how it’s been superimposed into the shot with little regard for that whole “scale” thing. We’re talking Kong-sized, folks. Once they’re safely out of harms way, the Astroyanks take the usual U.S Foreign Relations approach. Hey, they’ve hauled that A-bomb all the way from Earth, so why NOT make like a planet-killing comet, huh? I led a brief “U.S.A! U.S.A!” chant as the mushroom cloud went up. The narrator capped things off perfectly with the phrase “Civilization had been brought to Planet Nova”. And the irradiated honey bears thank you, Earthlings. You maniacs! You blew it all to hell, didn’t you?! MANIACS!!!!

 

At the next break we made much sport of Doug for his country’s’ approach to scientific discovery. My take was that the movie proved that what took nature and Darwinism 200 million years to achieve took four Americans less than 24 hours. On the other hand, not once did either of the two female crewmembers have to make coffee for their male shipmates. Strike one minor blow for womans liberation, I suppose.

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: Nope, but two fully paid-up members of the NRA, one feels.

Horrific Leg Injury?: The amount of times one woman fell down, I figured her ankles were made of balsa wood.

Women of Dubious Morals?: How dare you, sir! These are both clean-living, soon-to-be married American women!

Pointy Metal Violence?: Screw that! This is the U.S of A, son. We got the Bomb!

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: Only in the stock footage.

Hairy Chests?: Hairy back, front and tail. I meant Joe, not Captain Manly.

 

Skeeters Summary: Not much for scientific accuracy, but a nice little nostalgic time-waster.

 

I rejoined Doug’s group, grabbing one of the pushed-to-the-side seats in deference to my already-complaining back. I was now sitting at a 90-degree angle to the screen, but that only add a note of strangeness to what was about to unfold.

Part 8a-Play-d’oh!

Sunday, 04:35-GET WELL SOON, MR. BILL

 

The flick we were about the see was, according to Ant, the only existing print left in the world. And it even started with a Short Subject. Get Well Soon, Mr. Bill is a five-minute long piece of surrealism, concerning the title character (a plasticine model) and our Narrator, Mr. Hand. (Played by someone’s hand, of course.) Mr Hand is visiting Mr. Bill in hospital. Since Mr. Bill can’t remember what happened to him, Mr. Hand takes us on a five-minute long summary of Mr. Bills life. It’s also a five-minute examination of how many ways you can fold, spindle or mutilate a plasticine puppet. Every line of the script leads to another pun-related mangling. Bill is run over, decapitated, blended, flattened and flambéed for our amusement.

 

It amused me, anyway.

 

As soon as the film-makers ran out of ideas for nasty shit to do to Mr. Bill, it was over. Nice to see a one-joke film that doesn’t outstay it’s welcome.

 

Part 8b-Kentucky Fried Amazon Women on the Groove Tube.

Sunday, 04:40-MR. MIKE’S MONDO VIDEO

 

We rolled into the main feature. It’s a sketch-comedy compilation, filmed as a Saturday Night Live special that was rejected by the networks, then picked up as a feature film. It apparently tanked at the box office, appeared on home video for a time, then vanished into obscurity. (But guess what… at least bits of it are on Youtube. Along with every other piece of video footage every shot by man.)

 

Some time ago I watched the Canadian sketch comedy compilation The Groove Tube. It hadn’t aged well, getting one laugh from me. A recent re-screening of The Kentucky Fried Movie fared better, although there were still some segments that went on too long with a decent punchline. So could this piece of comedy surrealism be funny after all this time?

 

In a word, yes. A spoof of the 70’s “Mondo” shockumentaries, it holds up pretty well. An early segment showing a swimming school for cats does go on too long, but it’s pretty obviously deliberately planned that way. A musical number seems unnecessary, and the “Church of Jack Lord” sketch may baffle anyone too young to remember “Hawaii 5-0”. But on the whole, I found a lot to laugh about. The best crowd reactions were to the one-liner “Coming Up Next” gags. (The brilliant “Christmas on Other Planets” being the stand-out favourite. “Nazi Potholders” was another great visual.)

 

But I did mention the film was pretty surreal, yeah? How surreal? Get this… the projection booth accidentally switched two reels… and it still made sense! Sure, the Church of Jack Lord Sketch was cleaved in twain, the “Laser Bra 2000” bit was thrown out of sequence, but it wasn’t as jarring as say, the reversed reel of Girly back in ’05. In fact, the only reason we knew what had happened was that the print still had “Insert Commercial #...” markers. They suddenly jumped from commercial 2 to commercial 5. Well, if you’re going to splice a film together wrong, it’s best to do it to either this one, or Pulp Fiction. Who’s going to know the difference?

 

Finally, there was one part of the film that was a surreal experience for me. When the “Mondo Video” theme tune started up, I could swear I knew the melody they were singing the lyrics over. A minute later it dawned on me. They were using “Telstar”, originally recorded by the Tornadoes, produced by Joe Meek. During the flick, three more versions of “Telstar” were played. And why was this surreal to me? Because my inspiration for creating the V Marathon Mixtape comes from Chigago-ite Tim “Telsterman” Lehnerer. Not only does Tim create a mixtape for the B-Fest 24-hour Marathon every year, he’s also clinically obsessed with Joe Meek. To the point where he’s collected nearly TWO HUNDRED cover versions of “Telstar”. I e-mailed him about the four he may have missed.. I’m guessing he’ll be hunting down a VHS tape of this flick on E-bay sometime soon.

 

I also already know one track that’s going on next years CD.

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: ”Go in the name of Jack Lord. Book ‘em, Dan-o!”

Horrific Leg Injury?: Kitty hang-gliding takes no prisoners.

Women of Dubious Morals?: No, the vintage full-frontal nudity was very tasteful and morally upright.

Pointy Metal Violence?: More like cartoon laser violence. Via lingerie.

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: More than likely with large cast. Hey, it’s Bill Murray!

Hairy Chests?: See above. Hey, it’s Dan Ackroyd!

 

Skeeters Summary: Some people bagged this film at breakfast, I defended it. It was the anti-Ruins.

 

One film left to breakfast. And as in ’07, we’re going into the MGM archives for a Sci-Fi Classic!

 

Part 9-Guy Pearce Not Included

Sunday, 06:00-THE TIME MACHINE

 

I was pretty relieved to see this film appear on the bill. Partially because it’s a great flick, but more importantly this year, because it’s one I’ve seen a half-dozen times before. And interestingly, one I’ve only watched all the way through once. Since it plays a lot on MGM, I’m constant stumbling across it while channel-surfing. In the last few years I’ve gotten into an odd habit with it. I watch the first half, from the opening, the rapid-fire journey to World War III, to the year 800,000 and change. And then I zone out, flip channels or fall asleep. The middle third with our blissed-out hippy descendants the Eloi just doesn’t hold my attention for some reason. The finale, where the anti-war Traveller is forced to return the concept of violence to the world wakes me up again.

 

This time was no exception. I’d been going pretty well, having a couple of yawns during Mr. Mike. But with ten hours to go, the baby-related lack of sleep was catching up. And so I settled into the stalls, watched the Travellers long, gloriously Technicolored journey through three wars and a lot of stop-motion, then propped my pillow on the armrest and caught some Z’s.

 

I got about twenty minutes sleep. I probably could have kipped on to breakfast, by the angle of my body was putting pressure on my right foot. By the time the Morlocks showed up, I had the worst case of pins and needles in many the year. Much quiet cursing ensued. Oh well, it ensured I got to see Rod Taylor kicking some righteous Morlock ass, at least.

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: Futuristic Flower Children, mainly.

Horrific Leg Injury?: No, but a stuntman gives us a great full-body burn at the climax.

Women of Dubious Morals?: Quite the opposite.

Pointy Metal Violence?: A little metal violence and a hell of a lot of good old-fashioned fisticuffs.

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: The Eloi live off fruits and vegetables. Skinny bastards.

Hairy Chests?: The Philishave was extinct long before the Morlocks evolved…

 

Skeeters Summary: Still an excellent film. But sleep is excellent, too. Mmm, sleep.

 

Sunday, 7:45AM-BREAKFAST!

 

We stumbled out into the bright natural light of Sunday morning. (“It burrrns!”) The Espresso Café that had accommodated us the last few years had either closed or declined to host 100 sweaty nerds this year. Instead, we headed to Café Whare Kai. (For the non-Kiwis reading this, that’s Café “House of Food”. It sounds better non-translated.)

 

I dragged out the video camera again, getting some reactions to the nights festivities. I also discovered later that my camera over-exposes like a bastard when you film in bright sunlight. One interview looks like the guy is standing in a supernova. Catching up with Andrew Todd in the chow line, we made the decision to drop to the back to catch up with some of the other regulars. This would prove to be a mis-step, as Café Whare Kai’s kitchen produces excellent food, but is in no way set up for speedy service. By the time Andrew and I received our bacon and eggs on home-made bread (Which was friggin’ delicious) it was maybe ten minutes to 9. We’d been told they’d be kicking off again at 8:45 with some giveaways and the last premiere. Our breakfast companions had already scarfed their breakfast and dashed back to the Hollywood.

 

Andrew was bouncing up and down in his seat until I reminded him he was attending the Wellington marathon as well. The chances were good that he’d see this flick again. As for me, I had made the decision that I could miss the start of a film this one time. I’d arrived too late before the show to secure any solid bakery-style food for midnight snacking, and the 20-minute dinner break had been too short for me to dash out for anything without missing the start of Role Models. Breakfast for once had priority.

 

And breakfast was good.

 

Part 10-Where The Bloody Hell Are Your Entrails?

Sunday, 09:00(ish)-DYING BREED

 

“What did I miss? What film is this?”

 

Okay, I missed the start, but I was brought up to speed pretty quickly. It’s a new Australian horror set in Tasmania. (Although apparently filmed in Victoria.) The core cast and set-up had echoes of The Ruins, featuring two couples heading out into the wilderness. Also like The Ruins, they’re bound for the back of beyond for scientific reasons, with one of the girls on the trail of the thought-to-be extinct Tasmanian Tiger. And there’s also a plot thread with her missing sister. Like in… that other film.

 

 

Once again, we spend a while tracing their steps into the wop wops, allowing some character building. A little too much in the case of one character, who becomes the films’ Shelly (AKA the Obnoxious Joker/Aussie Larrikin you want to punch) very quickly. After a short time you’re left wondering why anyone would want to spend any more than a few hours with this guy, let alone a week in the wilderness. About the time he beats the shit out of a guy on suspicion of vandalising his truck, you kind of lose much sympathy for him. Gee, I wonder if he might be getting a painful lesson at some stage in the film.

 

There’s also a bit of Exposition by Flashback in this section, which threw me a bit. Mainly because people seemed to be flashing back to things they didn’t see. Either I missed some early bit that inferred telepathy or someone was indulging in crass flashspeculation.

 

Being a horror film, we also get some nudity to tide us over until the gore starts. As is only good and right.

 

To avoid giving away too much of the plot, I’ll just list a few question the film raised.

 

• Wouldn’t film about a family of Tasmanian Tiger Werewolves be cool? This isn’t that film.
• If our group really wanted to antagonise the small-town locals , shouldn’t they have brought an oversexed transvestite or two?
• Is there a factory somewhere churning out creepy little girls? They’re everywhere these days!
• When a group of creepy local yokels start insisting you try their meat pies, shouldn’t you be mildly hesitant?
• Even if the town is called “Pieman”?
• If small-town Aussie locals get overly-friendly, shouldn’t you shout “WOLF CREEK! WOLF CREEK!” and make a break for it?
• If you’re going to suddenly and spontaneously decide to bone the hell out of you significant other, shouldn’t you at least check to make sure you’re alone?
• Or turn the lights on the benefit of the viewing public? (Yes, I meant me. Sue me, I’m male.)
• Should people be surprised that their cell phones no longer work in the wilderness? In fact, should they be surprised they work at all in Tassie?
• Can Annoying Joker Guy get any more annoying? (Answer: Yes, he could.)
• If someone claims you’re in an area of wilderness that no-one’s ever set foot in and you instantly find a beer bottle, is it too late to elect a new guide?
• Do Creepy Little Girls have teleporting abilities? They’re ALWAYS appearing just when you think you’re alone!
• If you’ve spent a whole day trekking into the wilderness only to have a creepy little girls appear in the same cave as you, do you think you walked one humongous fucking circle or something?
• Maybe she’s some sort of reverse leprechaun, appearing whenever you’re not looking?
• Is it a little creepy that EVERYONE in the town seems to be a blood relative? (strums banjo nervously)
• Where’s the horror movie character that responds to an order to spread out or split up in the dark, scary woods with “Blow that out your ass, pal”?
• Or “You want to split up? Sure, you go that way and the other four of us will go this way…”?
• Is this POV stalker a Voorhees or a Myers?
• If your boyfriend TWICE tells you to “stay here!” before running off and leaving you in the woods with a killer, is it time to get a new boyfriend?
• Did this film just turn into “The Tassie Chainsaw Massacre”?
• Or “Bruce: Portrait of a Serial Killer”?
• Man, lots of mines and massive dams in this uncharted wilderness. Should you have researched this trip a little more?
• Do post-mortem horrific leg injuries count in the Running Themes List?
• Did our Obnoxious Aussie Larrikin deserve THAT? Icky.
• Are they using the 1970’s Doctor Who trick of running down the same tunnels from different angles?
• Could you stop flashing back to someone else’s’ POV. It’s really distracting.
• Is there a dentist in the house?
• Is anyone getting out of here alive?
• Is it over?
• Well, is it over now?
• Seriously, how many endings do you need?
• Look, you’ve faded to black and put up a few factual captions. Do you think we really need another ending?

 

Apparently they did.

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: These guys worship at the Church of the Backwoods Loony, all right.

Horrific Leg Injury?: Horrific EVERYTHING injuries.

Women of Dubious Morals?: Yes, the prepubescent version. Not like that, you perv.

Pointy Metal Violence?: You betcha.

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: Scrawny, hairy and drooling. I love small towns.

Hairy Chests?: Who could tell under the beards. It’s a Gimli-village!

 

Skeeters Summary: A decent watch.. and look, I made it through the post-breakfast movie without falling asleep! Go me!

 

Ants right-hand man Geoff hit the stage afterwards to lets us know that the lineup was being re-programmed on the fly. Apparently some older films had practically disintegrated on the reels, sending Ant hauling ass back to the Filmhead Archive for replacements. Talking to him at the end of the night, Ant revealed the two that didn’t make the night in one piece were Heads, a German expressionist horror from the 50’s and The Conqueror. That’s the Genghis Khan bio-pic starring no less than John Wayne! Disappointing, but considering how strong the lineup was, subs and all, we can’t complain.

 

We moved on. Four films to go. And we were heading back to the day-glo, synthesized world of the 80’s!

Part 11-David Strassman: Kung-Fu Master!

Sunday, 10:30-NINJA TURF

 

Seeing a movie like Ninja Turf on the big screen is an interesting experience. It looks like one of the countless action flicks relaesed direct to video during the VHS boom. It’s amazing that there even WAS a print struck of this film.But this is more than just a run-of-the-mill 80’s actioner. There’s a few elements to this film that elevates it from “average” to a movie I want to marry and have babies with. Things that made this one of the funniest things I’ve seen on screen this year.

 

Number one was the dubbing. Or to be precise, the lack of it. There’s a reason I made a less-than-topical David Strassman reference about this flick. Ninja Turf is seemingly populated entirely by ventriloquists. And this is me talking. I’ve watched my fair share of badly-dubbed knung-fu. And your share and half of that guys share, too. Trust me, I’ve seen a LOT of badly-dubbed kung-fu. But I’ve never seen a PARTIALLY-dubbed kung-fu flick.

 

I’m not kidding. In most scenes of this movie and in EVERY group scene, the crack voice-over artists only bother to dub in half the dialogue. There were constant shots of peoples lips opening and closing in complete silence. Extras would lean into shots and deliver their one line of dialogue in mime. The main characters father was almost reduced to a mute, his few lines of dialogue being dubbed into random patches of dead air. If the dubbing was any more wretched his voice would have been heard in other peoples scenes.

 

The next thing that endeared the film to me was our two male leads. We met the first at a typical American high school. He gets menaced by a gang of toughs. Our second male lead, a much older man, presumably his teacher, comes to his aid. For a second it appears to be a kung-fu version of Stand By Me. Until the next scene, when the “teacher” is seated in class, getting chastisted by his ACTUAL teacher. That’s right, this movie seriously cast an actor in his late thirties (at the very least) as a high schooler. This led to a kind of rolling wave of laughter as his character, visible frown lines and all, tried to convince us he was a fresh-faced teen. By the time he started called a slightly-young woman “Mommy”, it was both hilarious and slightly disturbing. I got off my line of the night as he blurted “Mom, I have a problem!”. “I have an aging disease!” was my response. The folks in the back row seemed to appreciate that one.

 

There was also a minor thread of homoeroticsm running through the film. Ok, not so much a thread as a cable. The type used to tie up a battleship. By the time Bruce Senior Citizen had handed a banana to a naked guy in the worlds only Open-Plan Living Room Shower with Attached Jungle Foliage (Look, I’m just reporting what I saw, okay?) the whole flick was beginning to resemble a failed pilot for “Graham Norton: Ninja Warrior”. Another of my notes mentions “Homoerotic-fu!”. Four days later, I have no idea what that looked like. I’m assuming it was amusing.

 

And finally, there was the complex and tightly plotted storyline. I’d better write this down… does anyone have a postage stamp? Basically, the worlds two oldest students wander around, magically managing to run into every kung-fu fighter in the Continental United States. A trip to the local liqour store turns into a group beatdown. Thugs attack them for the heinous crime of being Asian. (Gleefully mangling their racial abuse once more. Perhaps the dubbers just didn’t know any offensive terms for Koreans?) A face-off with a Latino gang turns into a car chase I dubbed “The Illegal Immigrant Rally”. Brilliant kung-fu lines were uttered, such as the brilliantly specific “I’ll break your ball!”. Eventually I decided to play the geek card with my comment of “I find your lack of plot disturbing.” I probably owe Big George royalties for that one.

 

A token attempt at an actual plot is offered as our Geriatric Youth Gone Wild head to a wine-and-giant-pile-of-blow party to rip off a drug gealers stash. Said dealer is somewhat distracted, getting busy in the hot tub with a lady of questionable morals. This is so integral to the plot that we keep cutting back to the sex scene, even after our hereos have left the building. In fact, we keep cutting back to the sex scene as the lads are drinking beers back home. I think it was about this time that I announced how great I thought this movie was. After all, you can’t spell “Great” without 5/13^th’s of “Gratuitous Sex”, can you?

 

Let’s face it, at this stage of the proceedings, it was good to have a near-plotless film. Every flimsy excuse for a scrap was used to ensure a regular flow of fight scenes, much cliched romance blossomed and the final tragic ending was the new benchmark for overwrought melodrama. I’m not sure if this was one of the substitute films, but if so, the other films gave their lives for a noble cause. A badly-dubbed and laughable cause, but a noble one nevertheless.

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: I think this Running Theme may have run out of steam.

Horrific Leg Injury?: It’s an 80’s kung-fu film. Take a guess.

Women of Dubious Morals?: The drug dealer is probably STILL having hot-tub nookie as we speak.

Pointy Metal Violence?: It’s an 80’s kung-fu film. Take a guess.

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: Badly-dubbed scrawny supporting actor ahoy!

Hairy Chests?: It’s an 80’s kung-fu film. Take a… oh, you know.

 

Skeeters Summary: If that guys was a teenager, I’m King Ludwig II of Bavaria. And I’m not.

 

Part 12-Well, It’s Still Better Than “Glitter”, at Least.

Sunday, 12:00-MOONSHINE WOMAN

 

If I was to take a guess, I would have to say that this was a substitute film. Not because it was out of place, or because of the quality of the flick. I just get the feeling that if Ant had to grab a replacement film in a hurry, he would have gone for this one as a prefect late-marathon choice. It had all the classic elements of the sexploitation flicks we’ve seen beofre… the terrible dialogue. The cliched-as-hell plot used to wrap some tawdry near-nudity and extended cheesecake shots. The stock footage used to pad out the film. (After all, you can’t be expected to film ALL the scenes for your sixty minute epic, can you? And don’t all sexploitation fans enjoy ten minutes of motorcycle racing footage?)

 

But, like our previous flick, this movie was not content to be an everyday T & A quickie. There was to be no wallowing in mediocrity for Moonshine Woman. This movie graced itself by being one of the most ineptly-made films I’ve ever watched. And I’ve seen Black Devil Doll From Hell!

 

Let’s go to work.

 

·        Moonshine Women, from the people that brought you Honey Britches. Would it surprise you to know I’ve seen Honey Britches? It’s no masterpiece, but it’s about 500 tiumes better-made than this film.

·        Hmm, black-and-white sexploitation. Bang goes the chance of frontal nudity.

·        There was a movie-long glitch on the print in the form of two pulsating oil stain-like blobs. Whenever someone had a close-up, it was like they were being attacked by sentient acne.

·        It’s the longest walk-in-the-woods scene since The Curse of Bigfoot. Or was it The Legend of Bigfoot?

·        Every cast and crew member gets their credit up front. And meanwhile our leading lady continues her excruciatingly long hike through the woods.

·        Lucky it’s a small crew or the movie would be over before she reaches her house.

·        Hooray, she made it! Let’s make with the hootin’, hollering, feuding and fighting! Oh, and the sleaze, of course.

·        Holy crap, the men in black just arrived.

·        It’s like a scene from Pulp Fiction if Quentin Tarrentino was a talentless hillbilly with a six-dollar budget.

·        I hope everyone is enjoying this dialogue, it’ll be the last for a while.

·        They’re threatening to make her a Moonshine Widow!

·        What the hell? Did they seriously scratch the negative to simulate a muzzle flash?

·        They DID! They did scratch the negative!

·        Moonshine Hubby appears to have been shot with a chocolate sauce gun.

·        Enter Mr. Narrator. We’ll be treated to his dulcet tones for the rest of the flick.

·        “Sorry about killing your husband, Ma’am! C’mon, let’s make you a star!”

·        Moonshine Woman really got over that whole “dead husband” thing pretty quick.

·        Dialogue becomes optional for the second movie in a row. Are we meant to be improvising the plot like some sort of “Whose Line is it Anyway” game?

·        “Hi, I’m the sleazy mobster who killed your husband. Wanna parade around in your underwear for me. It’s a modelling thing. Honest.”

·        I bet even he was surprised she fell for that.

·        Umm, hubba hubba, I guess.

·        I guess a woman in her granny panties was considered “hot” back in the day.

·        This is the most inappropriate musical accompaniment for a sexual assault I’ve ever seen.

·        Really, if they use any more perky library music, a 1950’s newsreel about America’s car industry is going to start up.

·        It’s Cleavage-Cam!

·         Look, knee him in the balls or something? Don’t get all complient! Lady, you’re not helping liberated woman like the one that helped nuke the crap out of Planet Nova a few years back.

·        Well, your husbands dead and his murderer just about date-raped you. Let’s go to Daytona Beach to celebrate!

·        “Look at at the neat things we’re narrating, audience! Try not to notice that we’re never in the same shot! No, we’ve never heard of this ‘stock footage’ you speak of.”

·        Geez, this has turned into a travelogue with tits!

·        Well, one brief flash of tits. It’s the early 60’s, after all.

·        Yes, I’m convinced that balcony is part of a high-class Daytona Beach hotel and not some run-down building in the low-rent section of the directors home town.

·        Ahh, the fallback of any low-budget film-maker. Taking the camera to some public event for free crowd shots.

·        And they couldn’t even do that right. Instead we get an endless series of static shots from the infield of the Daytona Motorcycle GP, intercut with blurry shots of Moonshine Woman and Sleazy Gangster watching the race. Gosh, how exciting.

·        A rider fell down! Too bad we missed seeing it.

·        And again!

·        I think this is a 500-lap race, because we’ve seen about  485 of them.

·        What is this, ESPN: The Movie?

·        Hooray, it’s over. I wonder who won?

·        We now show you what the boardroom scene from The Untouchables would have been like is DeNiro was played by Marcel Marceau.

·        Well, there’s a half-dozen mobsters in the room. Better get the Narrator to introduce each one as if he’s a bachelor on The Love Connection.

·        The inappropriately perky score is back!

·        Wait, is that polka music? For mobsters?

·        Hold the f’n phone, is that a polka version of can-can music?

·        Now it’s “Frere Jacques”. This is so fucking surreal.

·        And gut-bustingly funny.

·        Jesus, that was a snatch of “La Marseilles”. You have got to be kidding me!

·        And to prove I wasn’t hallucinating, the scene is so long they LOOP the linrary music and we get to hear the French Polka Medley again. It’s even funnier the second time around.

·        “Well, you’ve listened to me narrate this scene long enough… let’s listen to the Sleazy Mobster for a while!”

·        Hmm, either he missed his cue or I’ve gone deaf.

·        DIALOGUE!

·        Shit, did they record the script using two tin cans on a string?

·        And people call Troll 2 the worst movie ever made. At least the sound recordist on that flick knew which end of the mic the actors were supposed to talk into.

·        There’s a weird bassy distortion during the scenes with dialogue, too.

·        Hi, Narrator! We enjoyed that three minutes when this WASN’T a silent movie.

·        It’s the zero-budget 60’s David Blain!

·        Well, that magic trick SEEMED pointless, but I’m sure it’ll pay off in the end.

·        Sleazy Mobster whacks Moonshine Womans’ boyfriend. Maybe she might think about NOT sleeping with the multiple murderer now?

·        Sleazy Mobsters’ making Moonshine Woman a drink, and he has something important to say. Let’s listen!

·        For the second time, the phrase “Let’s listen!” was followed by two minutes of silence and stage business. I was sorely tempted to yell “Oh shit, I’ve gone deaf!”, but it was late and people sleeping through this travesty might not appreciate being woken.

·        Sleazy Mobster drops two ice cubes into a glass. Thanks to the audio levels in Bizzaro-World, this sounds like the end of the world. Screw the sleeping people. My very public comment of “Geez, those could have sunk the Titanic!” was probably the only real theatre-wide comment of the night. The line-up wasn’t conducive to public heckling, I guess. Either that or we were afraid Ant would spank us.

·        Finally, Sleazy Mobster speaks. Hey, that bass distortion is back.

·        Wait, that’s not bass distortion. That’s… HOLY SHIT! That’s his motherfucking HEARTBEAT!

·        My jaw is on the floor. Somehow, someone managed to recreate that gag from Singin’ in the Rain in real life through sheer incompetence.

·        Brilliantly, everytime the guy speaks, his heartrate increases. Acting is a full-body workout.

·        Either that woman is dead, or she’s wearing her microphone in an uncomfortable place.

·        Hello, Mrs. Sleazy Mobster, can I fix you a… CATFIGHT! CATFIGHT!

·        Y’know, we haven’t really seen much of Moonshine Womans’ fabulous stardom that the Narrator was talking about at the start of the film.

·        Remember what I said about NOT sleeping with your husband and boyfriends killer?  Oh, please yourself.

·        We’ve got full backal nudity! In the 60’s, this was hardcore porn!

·        Well, we’re into the exciting conclusion. Let the smallest, cheapest Mexican Standoff in the last 40 years begin!

·        So, you couldn’t afford blanks and yet you shoot a scene where four men pretend to fire about 30 times each? Ooooo-kay.

·        DEADLY NEGATIVE SCRATCHES!

·        Man, this is a relxing gunfight. Just keep gently shaking your guns at each other, gentlemen.

·        “Oh man, I’m sleepy. I might just lie down slowly and take a nap…”

·        Sleazy Mobster Guy makes one final bad call and is horribly David Copperfield-ed to death. Here’s hoping the next trick is to make this movie vanish.

·        Is she seriously thinking of walking off into the sunset?

·        Narrator Guy starts going off-script. Just let it die, pal. No, I don’t care what your mother used to tell you as a kid! Why are you implying you’re a character in this film? Are  you trying to get a part in the sequel? SHUT UP!

·        And we’re done. Unbelieveable.

 

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: Yep, this one’s history.

Horrific Leg Injury?: Nope, and his heart sounded fine, too.

Women of Dubious Morals?: Depending on the random character motivation the scene called for, yes, no or maybe.

Pointy Metal Violence?: Only if it could be realised by negative scratches.

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: Possibly. Look, I’ve been typing for four days. My brain hurts.

Hairy Chests?: Oh, yeah.

 

Skeeters Summary: Worse aural levels than Desperate Living, better dubbing than Ninja Turf. But only just. Brilliant stuff.

 

I’d watched Moonshine Woman with Annette in the right-hand side seats. With two films to go, my energy levels were starting to bottom out. I was going to need something action-packed to keep me awke during the penultimate film.

I’d watched Moonshine Woman with Annette in the right-hand side seats. With two films to go, my energy levels were starting to bottom out. I was going to need something action-packed to keep me awke during the penultimate film.

 

Part 13-Not Exactly a Women in Prison Flick

Sunday 13:10-SHORT EYES

 

Okay, it’s a prison flick. A Men in Prison flick. This is different. Whoa, Curtis Mayfield is acting in this! Early Bruce Davison film, too. Oh shit, 70’s prison slang. I’m never going to follow this. Man, this is a lot of dialogue to cope with twenty-one hours into the show. People’s lips are moving, but I don’t have clue one as to what the words mean. Is this taking place in real-time?

 

Wait a minute.

 

Oh, fuck. This is an adaption of a play, isn’t it?

 

I checked the IMDB later that night. Yes it was. Ten minutes in and I was lost. Topo much dialogue, too few working braincells to process it. I put my pillow back on the armrest and closed my eyes, turning the film into a radio play for a while. It didn’t help.

 

Man, this pillow is comfy.

 

When I woke up twenty mintues or so later, I was a little more focused. I was able to get the gist of the film through a long monolgue from Christopher George, playing an accused child molester fearing for his life after being tossed into the general population of a tough prison.

 

This is some heavy shit to hit us with, Ant.

 

This was a real departure from the norm. So much so that I’ll dispense with any attempted plot summary or Running Themes. Suffice it to say, it’s worth a watch. Just be warned, it makes for some very uncomfortable viewing.

 

Ballsy choice, dude.

 

Time for the big finale. There was just time for the last few giveaways. Doug and Andrew did the B-Movie Crew proud by entering the Who Can Fake the Best Kung-Fu Routine Contest. Both did well, but were trumped by joint winners Casio (With his perfectly-pitched Bruce Lee screams) and Shane. (Who risked injury with his forward rolls. I’ve breakdanced on that stage and those boards are HARD!) And so, the Fan Favourite Flick was upon us. Ant called it “The Greatest Kinetic Action Flick Ever”. I could have used this film 2 hours ago. Hmm, I wonder if it’s…

 

Part 14-Been Raiding my DVD Cabinet, Ant?

Sunday 14:45-MAD MAX 2 (THE ROAD WARRIOR)

 

Did I mention that I am an enormous geek?

 

The moment the film (faded to a beautifully nostalgic sepia) started, I knew what it was. Not by music this time. No, it was the caption “A Kennedy Miller Production”. That was all it took. Fuck, I even knew it was Mad Max 2, rather than the not-so action orientated original.

 

I think my shout of “AWEEEEESOMME!” was the last  burst of energy I had. I was wide awake for the whole film, but basically just watched it in a state of happy solitude. Passing comments would have been pointless, any way. The volume was WAY the fuck back up, and at times this is a LOUD flick. The action scenes were fine, but the extreme volume sometimes made the score slightly painful. Part-way through, I sudeenly noticed Esther putting something on. Somehow, she had managed to acquire a pair of industrial earmuffs during the show. I’m still not sure if she had those in her car, or whether the Hollywood staff found them for her.

 

Do I even need to talk about this film? No, no I don’t. If you’ve sen it, you know why I love it. (I was in fact going to watch it the day before the show as a rev-up. At the last minute, I changed my mind and watched Death Race 2000 instead. My Movie-Sense must have tingled.) If you haven’t seen it, go watch it. Right now. What are you waiting for? GO!

 

OCD or Religious Nuts?: Nope, but a great Ranting Villain.

Horrific Leg Injury?: Hell yeah, but the horrific forhead injury topped it.

Women of Dubious Morals?: Despite what Esthers boyfriend thought, that WASN’T a women playing Wes’s bitch..

Pointy Metal Violence?: Lots.

Scrawny Supporting Actor?: I’m dressing Aiden as Feral Kid for Halloween as soon as he’s walking.

Hairy Chests?: Encased in leather in a desert summer. The future must STINK!

 

Skeeters Summary: Are you still here? GO WATCH THIS FILM!

 

And so, after the greatest final twenty minutes in action movie history, (Okay, maybe it’s a tie with Commando) it was all over for another year. As usual, Cherie had already headed off early, having seen Mad Max 2 ten or so times before. Me too, but I wasn’t going anywhere. We cleaned up our squalor pretty quickly, packed up our remaining supplies and stumbled out into the light. Dawn had left my mother to look after Aiden, so we had enough room to give Ben a ride home. A five-minute journey to his place took a little over twice that after his sleep-deprived state left him less than accurate in remembering directions. Still, he had made it through his first 24-hour V and lived to talk about. Incoherently, most probably, at least for the next day or so.

 

I was home around half-past five or threreabouts. As had happened in’07, I somehow gained my 26^th wind, and was awake enough to change Aiden without putting the nappy on his head. The little guy had a bit of wind-relaed crabbyness afterwards, so by the time I was able to eat it was past 8pm, a full 12 hours after my last main meal. It could have been a lightly braised Converse sneaker, and it still would have been delicious at that stage.

 

I was running on fumes by this stage, which made my decison to start this write-up seem perfectly logical. I also out on the tape of Little Girl, Big Tease that had screened on the previous night’s “Incredibly Strange TV” slot. Mini-review: Should have been renamed “Little Girl, Huge Skanky Ho”. And I thought the Moonshine Woman had the moral compass of a Taiwanese hooker.

 

By the time I had reached the Prologue, I was writing indecipherable crap. I shut it down, aimed for my bed and let Mr Sandman do what he does best.

 

Thank God A.C is sleeping through the night.

 

The Final Thoughts

 

Ridiculously good line-up this year. A fifty-year span of the awesome and the awesomely awful. We never doubted you for a second, Ant.

 

Unless you bust out that third Jordowosky film, that is.

 

Well, so much for a shorter review this year. Pre-revisions, this is clocking in 15,000+ words, about the same as ’07. (But far shorter than the 22,000-word novella that was ’06.) It has, however, been the longest to write. I’ve been typing away in between work, baby time and sleep for six days. (And that “sleep” thing has only been clocking in at about six and a half hours a night, max. It’s now late Friday night. The Wellington Marathon is now only 17 hours away. I’m hoping they’re going to have just as good a time as we did. Because no matter how wiped out we feel on Monday, no matter how long it takes me to write this monster review, no matter how much we complained about Desperate Living, (and we complained a LOT!) we know that we’ve be back next year, come hell or high water.

 

Fuck Christmas. Marathon night is the REAL happiest time of the year.

 

The Thank Yous

 

Thanks as always to Ant, Geoff, Charlotte and the staff of the Hollywod for all the usual reasons.

 

Thanks to the staff of Café Whare Kai. Considering the line, to serve that many people in less than an hour was a great acheivement. And if you can make a simple plate of scarambled eggs taste that good with whatever herbs you added, I’m coming back for brunch ASAP.

 

And thanks to the nerd-herd, 90% of which went the distance. Fucking impressive stamina this year.

 

Next year is the tenth anniversary of the ‘Thon. It’s a long way off, but I’m already looking forward to it.

 

See you there.

Errate/Addendum: Thanks to Dave Brough for pointing out my original brainfart, citing Christopher George as the star of Short Eyes, not Bruce Davison. That'll teach me to type until midnight and then post withour re-reading what I chruned out.

BLOODY POM POMS (1987)

OR: Cheerleader Camp

OR: Oddly, not an Australian film about the British. That would be "Bloody Poms"

I spotted this film was coming up on MGM a few weeks back. I had vague recollections of reading about it when I was a kid, and the mention of Lief Garret in the cast made it a natural for a review,. (Making Mr. Garrett what Albert at The Agonybooth would refer to as a "Repeat Offender".) So, give me an S! Give me a "U"! Give me a "C"! And you can probably guess the last letter... let's get to it!

NOTE: I did intend this to be a full-length review, with witty(?) headings and a thorough examination of the plot. I even took notes. But I didn't tape the film while I watched it on MGM. I was thus unprepared for how generic and disposable the plot turned out to be. Less than a hour after watching it, I could barely remember a thing about the film. So, the plot outline will be sketchy at best. Then again, I suspect the shooting script was too.

Bloody Pom Poms is an odd beastie of a movie. In 1987, the were two main genres of films aimed at teens. The Teen Sex Comedy, or the Teen Slasher. This one just can't decide which it wants to be. (As proved by it's alternative title Cheerleader Camp. Does that not hint at tittie jokes galore?) Then again, both genres share a lot of elements, not least the ridgily-defined character types. Sure enough, everyone in the film is dragged from the 80's Teen Stereotype Handbook. The girls fall into the categories marked Bubble-headed Blonde, Tough Black Chick, Mousey Wimpette, Ludicrously-Accented Authority Figure Girl and Virginial-Though-Slightly-Loopy Heroine. The guys, meanwhile, range from Lechorous Hornbag Boyfriend (A somewhat balding Lief Garrett, sporting what could only be called a Mullethawk.) to Lechorous Hornbag Fatguy, to Lechorous Hornbag Sherrif. (Yep, someone spent MINUTES sketching out the character traits for this film.) There's also TWO Crazy Old Ralphs' in the film. (Groundskeeper Scungy and Chef Chuck E-Coli.)

For the first half-hour, there's a parade of the usual T&A staples. We've got

• Fat guys mooning people
• Random Gratuitous Breast Shots
• Ritual Abuse of Overweight People
• Ritual abuse of Authority Figures
• Lame Slapstick
• Jiggling Boobage
• Fat Guy in Drag!
• More Mascot-Related Non-Humour than you can poke a pom-pom at.
• Even more of the fat guys ass.
• Duelling Boobies.
• Lief Garrett rapping.(!)
• Lief Garrett in tightie-whities.

  You think that last one scared you? I had to WATCH it!

  Eventually, the hilarity(sic) gives way to some tame gore. The first death is shot in a way as to try and convince us our Heroine is simply hallucinating the whole thing. Then abrubtly cuts to a scene where it's obvious she's not. Way to keep up the suspense. It's a fairly random death, with one of the cheerleaders commiting suicide for no readily apparent reason.(It's possible she's actually the firat victim of our Terrifying Killer, but it's never really made clear.)

  It's at this point that logic packs its bags and wanders off, never to visit the movie again. (Well, actually, it did duck out for a smoke around the time the two competing cheerleaders had their "Boob-Off", but that's by-the-by.) From here on in, things happen that make no sense whatsoever. Firstly the camp leader, AKA What-The-Hell-Kind-of-Accent-Is-That Girl, orders our Crazy Ralphs to store the body in the camps refrigerator. (In front of six witnesses, no less.) This leads to a not-overly terrifying "jump" scare as our heroine wanders into the fridge for a glass of milk. (Virginal Heroines ALWAYS drink milk. Crap Screenwriting 101.) The local Sherrif, rather than prosecute the camp for Malicious Idiocy, turns out to be the Head Chicks bit o' Man-Meat on the side. (Which we learn in a Komedy Sex Scene so brutally unfunny, it's pratically a Comedy Snuff Film.) Oddly, in one scene the pair share, that awful British accent the Head Chick vanishes completely, though whether that's by design or a continuity flub is not overly apparent.

  Finally, the movie makes its move, flip-flopping from Comedy to Slasher in abrubt (and gory) fashion. One of the rather interchangable cheerleaders commits the sin of making out with Lief Garrett, and is promptly dispatched with a pair of garden shears through the skull. The film-makers obviously loved the concept, giving us a loving close-up of blood-soaked blades protruding from her mouth, then dragging it out for TWO "shock" scenes. Here's a hint, guys. Once we've seen it, it's no longer a "shock" to watch it get revealed again.

  The plot grinds to a halt once more as we get to the "climatic" cheerleader contest... held, oddly enough in a rather cramped cabin. Seems counter-productive to me, although I've never been a cheerleader. Thank God. And so we watch various groups demonstrate their talents. The Mascot Contest is probably the highlight, if only for the breakdancing alligator. (And then she doesn't win! Typical... a rigged Mascot Dance-Off! No wonder she kills people. Oops, gave away the SHOCK TWIST! Well, semi-shocking... I guessed the identity of the killer with forty minutes of this dreck still to watch.) Lief Garrett suddenly goes into Interstellar Overacting during this sequence, making me wonder if it was shot late in the production. Namely, the day everyone realised they were making a titanic pile of cinematic horse-hockey and decided to have a little fun with the flick.

  However, as "fun" as watching our heros blow their big chance at minor-league cheerleader stardom is, we have to get back to the stalking and slashing. And so, people have to be outside in the dark, economically-friendly-to-film-makers woods. So, while the extras boogie away to the Amazing Magically-Appearing Tragic 80's Band, a killing we will go!

  But first, a word about that band. I know the 80's were an interesting time for music and fashion, but this band took the cake. Seemingly every 80's sterotype possible had been compacted into one band. Most notable were the Andryogenous, Make-Up Encrusted Lead Singer and the Beret-Wearing Guitar player who looked like a low rent Madness cast-off. (Or the lost member of The Clash.) Most impressive was the real name of the lead singer, Chris Prettyman. And yes, he was. (In a wacky coincidence, another Prettyman, Jeff, was the producer. Nepotism rules, if that's okay with you, Dad.)

  Sadly, the fact that a number of the main characeters were running around in the woods with a killer didn't mean that the Komedy had ended. We still had to watch Uptight Head Chick get drunk and suffer through some Obese, Sweaty Groping, which almost resulted in Fatass Guy scoring. (Rather than the Sexual Assault charge it SHOULD had garnered.) This was all intercut with some of the least interesting padding of the film... endless shots of people stumbling through the wilderness shouting each others names. Our Killer finally gets busy, employing a wide range of tactics from Axe-in-Ya-Back to Vehicular Manslaughter. Our remaing dimbulbs... sorry, heros... dash back to the camp for one of the most ludicrous scenes in recent motion picture history.

  To sum up, there's an abrubt cut from the woods to the camp, where the kids are barricading themselves in. Lief's character has instantaneously rigged up a swinging death device from what appears to be a bear-trap. Which leads me to ask, are bear-traps usually left lying around at cheerleader camps? Could make tryouts more interesting, I suppose. Anyway, the group hears footsteps, lets the trap go and... kills the cook. Well, the average level of culinary skill in the world has just gone up a fraction. Our heroine goes apeshit at Lief Mulletman, squeaking "What have you DONE?". Well, he rigged up a lethal trap, and it killed someone. Which is usually the point of lethal traps. The question should rightfully have been aimed at the srcreenwriter, methinks.

  And so we whittle down the cast as quickly as possible. (That is to say, not quickly enough.) The Fat Guy gets cacked while taking a whizz. (Thanks for that image, movie. Why do you hate me so much?) The Blonde gets it off camera, Lief takes three slugs to the chest and we've finally revealled the killer! As I pointed out, this shocking revelation comes about half an hour after it becomes obvious that one character should be wearing a name-tag that says "Warning: Manical Killer".

  We end with a great "DAY! NIGHT! DAY!" scene and an epilogue that turns the whole film into the longest, lamest episode of The Hitchiker ever. And we're done. So, let's sum up the film. It had its' flaws. Although, if you take away the lame comedy, the terrible acting, the endless cheerleading routines and the pointless wandering about by the cast and you'd have... well, the opening and closing credits, really. In fact, I'd have prefer them to ditch the whole "cheerleading" and "killing people" elements of the screenplay, and just make it a bio-pic of the Tragic 80's Band. I loved those guys.

Hey there, Crab Chippers. Let's get back into Brief Summary Mode and take a look at what I've been viewing recently. Today, Teenage Cavemen vs Pudgy Teens. Let's roll it!

 

EEGAH! (1962)

A bit of a lucky find, this one. After failing to secure the films I needed for the "Vicious Cycle" Roudtable proposed by Anubis von Mojo in a local video store, I headed for one up the road. And there on the weekly rental shelf, this flick leapt out at me. I'd heard about it from Mystery Science Theatre, of course, but have never actually seen the episode. (And always thought it was EAAGH!, not EEGAH!, explaining why I could never find it via Google.) And so, I was going into the film with nothing but the hilariously inaccurate synopsis on the DVD cover to guide me. (A synopsis that not only called the film an "Avant-garde masterpiece", but also called it's leading man, Arch Hall Jr. one of the screens "Great baby-faced heroes". Desperate advertising, or slyly ironic humour from someone who KNOWS how bad this thing is?) The fact the cover claimed the film was in black-and-white, despite the colour stills, might be a sign.) And so it kicked off, with some papier-mache mummies bearing hand-drawn credits on their ponchos. This was a good start, hinting at ninety minutes of cheap movie (and equally cheap laughs for me) to come. I was not to be disappointed. Within minutes we're being introduced to our slightly-wet heroine Roxy (Marylin Manning) and her boyfriend Tommy, our "baby-faced guitar-playing hero". This was of course Arch Hall, Jr. son of the films director, and, if Mr. Hall, Snr. had had his way, the next Elvis Presley. History records that he wasn't. But that sure as hell didn't stop him trying. Most online reviews I've read constantly refer to Jr. as "hideous", "terrifyingly ugly" or worse. I didn't find him THAT bad... in fact he had a certain resemblance to James Dean. Provided someone had stuck a bicycle pump in his ear and inflated his head to about 50psi. Charlie Brown didn't had such a perfectly spherical melon as this guy. He's also sporting the mother of all ducktails, giing him a head you could land aircraft on. My wife Dawn came in halfway through the flick, and her first comment was "What's wrong with that guys head?". I had to convice her that it was a style choice, not a special effect.

Apart from a few non-comedy scenes, there's not a lot of mucking around in the early part of the film, with Drippy Heroine getting menaced by our titular caveman less than five minutes into the flick. (Played by an astoundingly young Richard Kiel.) Being an early-60's heroine, her fight-or-flight reaction is actually "fight-or-faint", and she does the latter. Luckily Tommy shows up, sacring off the huge creature with his headlights. (And, in all probability, his enormous quiff must have helped. It would scare ME if I ran into him on a dark night, anyway.) So far, so silly. But in the next scene, our third major lead is intorduced, and things get complicated.

You see, the "actor" playing Roxys' dad is Arch Hall, Snr. (Making him one of the few guys to have directed AND acted in the same flick under two different pseudonyms.) As you can guess, having the leads actors father play the father of his girlfriend just feel a little icky, if you think about it long enough. (Doubly so if the rumored real-life relationship between Snr. and the young(ish) lady are to be believed.) But, Freud be damned! We have a crap movie to talk about!

The plot trundles into action after Snr. is shown the "footprints" of the giant, starting a trend of characters talking about things that we, the viewer, just never get to see. I did everything bar pause the DVD and use the zoom function, but I sure as hell couldn't spot what everyone was looking at. The atrocious dubbing of the film kicks in here, as the core cast walk off-screen, only for Snr.'s voice to boom back like the Word of God, shouting the classic, oft-MSTed line "Watch out for snakes!". (And subsequently forcing me to make bad pun knock-offs for the rest of the film. "She's got the shakes!" "They might be fakes!" Which is pretty sad to admit, seeing as how I watched about 60% of the film by myself. But, if sometimes you have to amuse yourself on a long Saturday afternoon, huh?) To be fair, there was bad dubbing earlier, particularly the spectacularly awful caveman grunts dubbed in every time Kiel was on-screen, but this was a doozy.

Well, so much for a brief summary. Looks like full-review time. To speed things up, let's go to Fast-Forward.

• Tommy spends a fair bit of time trying desperately to get his dune buggy into the film. I was all for it, as a good dune-buggy scene added so mcuh to films like The Girl in Gold Boots. Snr. blows him off to use "something safer" to hunt down the giant. (After first dressing up like he's about to seek the Source of the Nile. I mean, was a pith helmet really necessary?)
• His interpretation of "safe" is interesting, as he sets out in one of those 1960's helicopters that looks like it's been made out of Mecanno. I swear I've made plastic kitset models that looked less flimsy that this thing. When first sighted, there's the sound of a helicopter revving up, despite the fact that the blades aren't moving. I'm still undecided as to wether that was a lost sound effect, or a completely different chopper in the background.
• Boy, watching a helicopter fly around for minutes at a time is scintillating stuff. I hope we get to watch every second of them landing, too.
• Fun Fact: California skies in the 1960's bore a startling resembelance to a plain white background. I was itching for someone to walk past the helicopter "in flight".
• Hey, Snr.? Was it too much trouble to give the pilot at least ONE line? Did he demand an extra five bucks, or something? It can't have been a lack of acting ability... You let your son talk, after all.
• Incidently, the DVD transfer is perfect for this type of film. No remastering, just the original faded, sratched print, complete with the occasional section where the soundtrack goes all wobbly. Added to the "drive-in"-type atmosphere immensley. Pristine prints for classic films, crappy ones for the B-Films, I say.
• The longer the film went, the more Tommy reminded me of Val Kilmer in Top Secret. If Val had been on a pizza and pasta binge, that is.
• When Snr. finally runs into Eegah (as the giant becomes known), he manages to break his own collarbone by falling over backwards into a pile of soft sand. Brittle Bone disease?
• And we cut from that scene, which ended with Snr. crying "No! No!" to... Tommy singing at poolside. Which had ME saying "No! NO!". It's the first of several musical numbers for Arch Hall, Jr. in the flick. Let's just say Elvis didn't have that much to worry about. His habit of serenading Roxy with songs featuring other girls names is a an interesting ploy, too.
• Well, the helicopter blew a gasket. Tommy nearly blows one himself, as it means he finally gets to bring out the dune buggy. Which turns out to be the front third of an old truck with "water-filled tyres". I tried to figure out why he made Roxy carry a shovel the whole time she was in the car, until finally realising it was welded to the cars' body. Normal hood ornaments are for squares, daddy-o!
• Dune buggy footage! Lots of it! Gosh, how exciting! I wish it would never end!
• Okay, now I'm beginning to think I'm goining to get my wish.
• WEEEEEEE!
• Tommy, soon to be proven as the Least Effective Leading Man since the guy in The Creeping Terror, gets his dune buggy stuck in sand. If he was any more of a dipstick, Roxy could use him to check the oil. Oh, wait, he's free.
• WEEEEEEE!
• They found Snr.'s smashed camera. Put an APB out on Sean Penn! 
• Later that night, Roxy and Tommy bed down by the fire. Yes, fire. I know, I can't see a fire either! But they keep talking about one! I don't know, maybe it's a stealth fire?
• Tommys' brought his guitar! Run for the hills!
• Another ballad, another chicks name. She's going to beat him to death with his own quiff if he keeps this up.
• By the way, every time Tommy sings, he gets backup from a couple of female singers, and some guy's even whistling the tune. Maybe the Ronettes are bedding down at the next camp over?
• Every time Tommy picks up his guitar, I'm wishing Pete Townshend would appear and break it. Probably a few years too soon, sadly.
• Eegah comes creeping around the campsite, pausing to eat what's later described as "stew". Of course, Snr's bold artistic descion to dub in crunching noises makes Roxy the worlds' worst cook. I figured it was Rice Crispie Stew.
• Tommys possessed transistor radio scares away Eegah. Thank God for the power of wild, improvised jazz!
• Be vewwy, vewwy quiet. Tommy's going hunting. Actually, I prefer to see him holding a rifle. It's far less terrifying than seeing him holding a guitar. I'd like to add that Mr. Safety would like to remind us that getting people to throw you a loaded rifle is a bloody stupid thing to do.
• For a huge guy, Eegah is surprisingly light-footed, managing to sneak up on Roxy in the middle of a landscape that last saw a tree in the Cretaceous Period. She faints again. Get that woman some iron tablets and check her blood pressure, stat!
• Giant Creature carrying a comatose woman! Can't beat the classics, huh?
• Repeat these lines for an hour "Roxy! ROXY!" Congratulations, you just became Arch Hall Jr.'s dialogue coach.
• Welcome to Bronsons Canyon! Eeagh has a cave there, which he apparently time-shared with Robot Monster. But inside, lo and behold, it's Snr.! Complete with a sling on his "broken collarbone". Leading me to ask the obvious question... Who tied it? I'd have to assume it'd be nigh-near impossible to do yourself, and Eegah just doesn't strike me as someone who'd have attended a lot of Eagle Scout first aid lessons.
• Uh, Roxy, wanna stop leaning on Dad's broken collarbone?
• There's not a lot to describe in the next half-hour or so. Eegah fawns over Roxy a lot, while Snr. cooly analzyes everything. Uh, dude, social anthropology is a fine thing, but shouldn't you be kind of worried that your daughter is about to engage in forced zug-zug with a prehistoric throwback? I had the horrible impression that had Eegah just ditched the pretense and gotten horizontal with Roxy, Snr's only response would be to find a pen and take notes.
• Tommy: ROXY! Me: Carmicheal! Welcome home... Tommy: ROXY! Me: Carmicheal! (Like I said, sometimes you have to find your own amusement.)
• The "meeting the mummified reletives" scene was cringe-worthy. The "eating from the huge animal bones" scene was laughable. The "drinking the sulpher water" scene was implausible. But please don't ask me to delve into the implications of the "Giving Dad a shave" scene. Who called for the therapist?
• I will say this... when a woman shaves a man, it should be a senuous experience. It should not look like Bozo the Clown just unloaded in his face with a giant banana cream pie. And thanks to the magic of the Continuity Error, cream goes on, cream goes off! Cream goes on, cream goes off!
• Is it just me, or does "Shaving the Caveman" sound like a euphamism for an intimate act of self-love?
• Arch Hall, Snr. purportedly found the inspiration for the film after meeting the 7'2" Keil, and it's obvious how impressed he was with the guys dimensions. We're constantly treated to numerous shots of his giant hands in direct comparison to Roxys. Not to mention his gigantic tongue.
• ROXY! Tom, you're a waste of plasma in this film, seriously.
• Whoa, Tom fell asleep in the poision ivy! That's gonna smart. (I'm actually amazed he found the only greenery in this entire wasteland.Seeing as how he can't seem to find his own ass with a map and a team of Sherpas.)
• Awww, Eegah brought Roxy a bunch of flowers and a dead bunny! Now she'll HAVE to shag him!
• Dad, you're not really helping things here. If this was thirty-five years later, he'd be the type that'd be moderating an Internet Forum advocating EXTREMELY close family relations.
• Roxy and Eegah go for a brief walk. Annnd, commence to clothes-rending! Snr. gamely tries to interfere, and gets knocked to the ground. Tommy finally shows up, and... gets knocked to the ground. Like father, like schmuck.
• Y'know, I'm putting my money on the Big Guy in this fight. Uless the little guy has a guitar, in which case the giant will be running for the horizon after three bars of "Vicky".
• Tommy goes down, but manges to toss a rock into Eegahs' mid-section. Resulting in a bloody hand for the big guy. Not sure how THAT works, but whatever. Eeagh also manages to snap Tommys gun in two. Quick, give him the guitar! GIVE HIM THE GUITAR!
• Exciting Vehicle Chase! Or would be, if Tommy could actually drive over the dunes in his dune buggy. Instead, we watching him drive halfway up, then roll back down again for a while. This continues until Snr. helpfully suggests driving away on the flat ground. Duhhh, fanks, dad.
• Total Jurassic Park moment as Eegah tries to chase down the dune buggy. Must go faster, must go faster! Movie must go faster!
• Well, they escaped. As Albert pointed out in his review at The Agony Booth, this would be a good place to finish the film. (My mental image is that of Eegah flailing around with his club like Leatherface at the end of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre.) But nope, we've got about ten minutes or more to go. And so, love-lorn Eegah sets out, tracking Roxy with help from a discarded item of her clothing. This is pretty impressive, since she, y'know, left in a car. Maybe the police should ditch bloodhounds and use re-animated cavemen instead?
• There's a pretty jarring shift here, as our huge, prehistoric attempted rapists suddenly becomes our Tortured, Tragic Hero. Still, if the choice is Tommy or Eegah as the Hero, I'm picking Bronson Canyon Man, no question.
• Eegah finds a swimming pool, and gets menaced by a dog. Okay, now I'm convinced Stephen Speilberg saw this film years before making Jurassic Park and The Lost World.
• Comedy Relief Drunk! Although in all honesty, the whole films so laughable, it's hardly required.
• We now know the film can't end until Tommys "rockin' combo" gets to play. I can't wait.
• Sign of a really cheap film: Dubbed in breaking glass noise accompanied by an actor simply miming the action. And no, Snr., the pot plants did NOT conceal the fact there's no glass in that window.
• Hilarious caveman-in-the-ladies-room gag!
• Hilarious caveman-in-a-fine-resturant gag! (With genuinely hilarious "acting" from the extras in this scene.)
• The cops arrive, and we get a Benny Hill-like chase around a Motel Six. I was wondering where the hell this was supposed to be taking place, but apparently it was meant to be the lodge Eegah had just entered. (Even though it looked nothing like it. Maybe '60's hotels had TARDIS-like chamelon qualities?) Then again, earlier the landscape did the same thing... sandy desert in one scene, but rocky mountains when the angle changed.
• It's the Overacting White Boy Band!
• Line of the film, as Tommy mistakes police sirens for his saxophone players instrument. Why? It "...has a leak.". Nearly fell off the sofa laughing.
• More similarities with The Creeping Terror, as an unexpected fistfight breaks out for no readily explained reason. It''s between Tommy and a fellow bandmember, so I guess even the bass player got sick of Tommys repeated counts of Cruelty to Music.
• Meanwhile, Eegah is trying to climb over a fence into the pool area Tommys' band is playing in. For a guy who grew up in a rocky wasteland, he's having a lot of difficulty with a six-foot high fence. Still, it does allow Tommy to play bad-ass with some brawling that makes the 1960's Batman TV series look like a Jet Li film.
• The brawling bass player tries to be tough, but gets stymied by some typically bad dubbing, literally getting a sentance cut of in mid-threat. I've seen better-dubbed 70's kung-fu flicks than this.
• Hey, he finally made it over! Now Tommy can prove what a great, two-fisted hero he REALLY is!
• Annnnnd.. he's down! Puss.
• The cops show up, just in time to stop Mr. Effective getting his ass handed to him. Eegah withstands a few seconds of the cops shaking their guns in his general direction, (Yeah, blanks are expensive, huh Snr.?) but finally takes a face-first swan-dive into the pool. Farewell, sweet wannabe-rapist. May flights of prehistoric angels sing thee to rest. It'd be better than having Tommy sing you to rest, anyway.
• Tommy may have been a crap hero, but he's one hell of a ventriloquist.
• And we're done!

  Skeeter's Summary: Yeah, I know I said at the get-go that I was going to do this as a brief summary review. But with this much material to work with, it just ballooned. Terrible acting, terrible songs, wretched dubbing, continuity errors, hilariously bad dialogue... this film has it all. "Avant-garde masterpiece", my ass. It's a cheap vanity project, made with earnest intentions, but not a shred of talent. And I loved every second of it.

   

Here's a retro review rescued from my defunct "Crab Chips" site via the Internet Wayback Machine. Thanks, archive.org!


It's been a while since I got ONE review done, let alone a Skeeter Double Feature. But it was a cheap-as hire day at the video barn, so let's delve in the Cannon Films back-catalogue! First up, a sequel to a previously-reviewed flick, then, the return of the infamous Albert Pyun!

American Ninja 2: The Confrontation!

Preview Time! La Bamba is first up... there's a surprise, as it was on 98.89% of the video tapes put out in the 80's. Next up The Lighthorsemen an Australian WW I flick I've heard about, but never got around to seeing. It's Galipoli on four hooves, by the looks of it. Nice to see big horse-led battles pre-CGI, though. Supercarrier is next off the rack... a lame-looking Top Gun knock-off with a fair-few familiar B-faces in the cast. And... oh, my God... Leonard, Part 6! I still can't believe I paid money to watch that piece of crap. (Hey, I was young and went to the movies every second day during the school holidays... I spent money to see Condorman, for God's sake!)

And here we go! There's the Cannon logo! Let's get ninja-ing!

Torque '86! Three guys are burning rubber on motorcycles, through twisting terrain and bright red credits as we kick off. They pull up at the all-camo pants bar for a drink, proving to be overly-cleancut college types. (Although they turn out to be Marines. Weenie-marines, perhaps.) Prepare for an asswhipping! (Which would have happened at a Girl Guide meeting, such is the geek levels the bikers are giving off.)

Aussie Thugs! And yes, two of the three get their asses kicked by the strangely Australian (and oddly polite) thugs. The third hides like a sissy, in an obvious set-up. Once the pride of the U.S military has been taken out by barflys, the Head Goon opens a door, revealing a...

Ninja Storeroom! They make off with the unconscious pair, thus raising the average efficiency of the American military by a fraction. And we cut (in a blast of kettledrum music) to re-meet our hero, Curtis Armstrong.

Enter the Dudikoff! Welcome back, Michael Dudikoff! Yes, he's STILL our hero, despite STILL looking like he's just started shaving. We appear to be in the Philippines again, or some equally budget-stretching location. (Note: Its St. Thomas Island in the Caribbean, according to the video box.) There's some unfunny business with a couple of possible-marines who pick up both Armstrong and his back-for-the-sequel partner Jackson. And a quick glimpse of a very English-accented Authority Figure. That usually spells trouble. Onwards though... let's head out to...

Camp Nudiebeach! No, there's no gratuitous nudity. (Yet) But the marines’ base is slap-bang on the beach. Dress standards are somewhat... lax. The C.O "Wild Bill" looks like he's ready for a YMCA revival, for instance. (Who knew marines were allowed to sport two-toned feathered hairdos'?) He's missing four marines so far, and gives a brief description of the black-clad suspect. Amstrong and Jackson exchange a Significant Look as the traditional Ominous Chord plays. On a synthesizer, of course. It is the 80's after all. We get to meet the local Kid-of-all-Trades, Toto, too. Well, he may be called Toto, but he dresses like a member of Culture Club.

Gay Militia Man, the 80's made a lot of guys look a little... fey. Even when they're trading sophomoric comments about women. Then again, Taylor, one of the guys taking Armstrong and Jackson out waterskiing keeps giving Armstrong the eye. Sure, he's the dude that got the other two kidnapped, but he's really too keen to strand himself with a bunch of buff, shirtless guys. Armstrong deduces the problem with the boat in about three seconds, and about five after that it's...

Ninja Time! Ooh, a flock of wild Beach Ninjas! That's rare at this time of the year! Some kicky-punchy stuff happens, as the ninjas employ the traditional tactics of hanging back and waiting for the chance to go one-on-one with the Good Guy. Who proceeds to hand them their collective asses, of course. One ninja appears to get his neck broken, but shows remarkable recuperative powers by, y'know, not being dead afterwards.

Clown-ninjas. Friendly Stab. Shaft! I'm gonna git you, sucka! Armstrong makes a break for it, only to have the ninjas suddenly turn into a troupe of acrobats to pursue him. (Yes, nice ninja-ladder... now let's see you form a human pyramid!) Their group attacking tactics prove even LESS effective than the one-on-one stuff, as every sword swipe manages to take out one of their fellow ninjas. Jackson gets involved, using a boat hook as an improvised staff. (And, as is traditional for HIS character, fights bare-chested.) Meanwhile, I realise a fact about the attackers.

5 Ninjas! No, 7.. okay, 8. Wait... 15! They're multiplying like a hydras heads... kill one, two more show up! Even though none of them seem able to do so much as scratch our heroes, Armstrong and Jackson finally bail to the cliff tops.

Acapulco, here we come! And one quick cliff-dive later... into the boat, not the water, which seems less than logical to me... they're out of there.

Debrief 1/We've got a lead! Really? Could have fooled me, guys. I've got no idea what leas you're following, but whatever. Sgt Shouty gets his Oscar moment post-debriefing. I doubt he won... woosh, that's some wooden acting. Taylor sets up a little Armstrong-acide for the next day. Ooh, I hope it involves ninjas! Taylor invites Armstrong to the Blind Beggar, which is probably the local gay nightclub. (Look, I'm just speculating... he's still wearing those fruity shorts AND he makes the invite while practically sharing Armstrongs' bed.) Armstrong looks confused, but that's a natural Michael Dudikoff expression anyway.

Aussies at 12 o'clock! Okay, so maybe this WON'T involve ninjas... there's the big guy from the opening kidnapping. He's another contender for the Woody award for Least Emotion in a Supporting role. The resulting fight scene is brief, with the result that Armstrong has 2 unbroken arms, and the attacks only 6 between the four of them. Taylor tries to plead wussiness when confronted by Armstrong. (Who's probably going to die a Redemptive Death... or at least a Pointless Death.) The thugs re-appear and another brief fight scene takes place, which is almost as exciting as the first. Not very, that is. Taylor makes my prediction come true by stupidly standing by the window, getting a bamboo spear in the chest. Just call me Criswell. So the ninjas finally get on the scoreboard, at the cost of about 12 of their number. Great assassins, my ass.

Debrief 2/Partytime Now this is interesting. I accidentally knocked the plug out of the laptop I was using to review the flick, losing my notes for then next ten minutes of action. When I rebooted... I couldn't remember what happened! Now either my attention span has shrunk to zero, or this film's more generic than I thought. To be fair, it's ten minutes where the film just treads water, with another lengthy scene in the C.O's office. (And with a huge boom hanging visibly in shot for most of it.) The British-accented Local Inspector is present this time, blocking the Marines efforts to investigate the killings. *dramatic chord* Yeah, I'm guessing he's not a good guy... call it a hunch. And then we waste some more time at the Governors garden party, watching bad comedy and character moments for our leads. The plot meanders back into action with an unexpected Hissy Fit! Delivered by a Random Woman in the general direction of...

Hey, it's the Head Ninja!: The somewhat-Indian head ninja is hanging out with a friend of the Guv'ner. Who's hanging out with the inspector. The wafer-thin plot thickens. The Governors hired goons hustle the woman away, hotly (well, tepidly) pursued by the Heroic Duo, along with a token Marine. I braced myself for a car chase. No such luck. It's more like a leisurely drive back to the same ol' Sleazy Bar as before. The kettledrums kick in again as the Aussie Thug Squad engage Armstrong and Jackson in a...

Comedy Barfight!: Yes, despite the gratuitous, testosterone-fuelled violence, the score informs us this is meant to be played for laughs. Jackson goes wonderfully OTT here, running his mouth a mile a minute as he fights, sounding like Hudson from Aliens on crystal meth. They fake us out briefly with a Railing Dive that MISSES the traditional table full o' beers... Only to have Armstrong and a Goon take it out a few seconds later. Anyway, the upshot is that our Heroes beat up the goons, but fail to get back the girl, then run away when the Head Ninja shows up. Their car has been severely reconditioned by the local street gang, but it belongs to the Base Commander, anyway. We're only missing the "Wah-wah-wah" musical cue to Komplete the Komedy.

Leo the lion... uh, Drugdealer/Toto knows all: More stuff happens. The Head Drugdealer/Ninja Commander turns out to be Leo, although he often gets called "The Lion". Maybe Tony the Tiger is his silent partner in crime? ("Ninjas? They're grrrrrrEAT!") Armstrong gets Toto to lead him to where the girl (Whose name is later (or possibly earlier, when I wasn't paying attention) revealed as "Alisha") is hiding. There's no real explanation as to HOW Toto knows this, bar the fact he's a Streetwise Urchin With a Heart of Gold. Armstrong shows up to rescue her, only to be attacked by the...

Toughest Amway Reps EVER!: Whoa, door-to-door Ninjas! A little more low-budget streetfighting breaks out, this time in broad daylight in front of a large crowd of locals. Silent Killers of the Orient, my ass.

Slow-mo mayhem: Dawn commented on the pace of the fight scenes here, and I had to agree. Could we put a shade more "action" in our action scenes, boys? It looks like the rehearsal footage. In fact, most of the fight scenes throughout the flick are pretty lame... way too careful, and overly stagy. But I was hardly expecting Jet Li-style action.. you gets what you pays for, after all.

Keystone Ninjas/No Reaction Toto: The Ninjas self-destructive tendencies kick in again, with most of their losses suffered at the hands, feet and swords of their compatriots. (Several go out via the Traditional Ninja Art of gently running their sword blade over thir opponents stomachs. Who knew katanas were too blunt to cut clothing, let alone skin?) The good guys make a break for it in a truck. One ninja takes out the back window with his fist, which oddly doesn't get so much as a jump out of Toto. Kids cool as a freakin' cucumber frappe. (Either that or he just didn't want a faceful of sugar glass.)

Street surfing! After getting tossed from the truck, the ninja manages to hook the vehicle with a grappling hook. (Via the ancient art of Bullshit Editing... even without slow-mo, the hook is about ten feet from the truck at best.) This results in him getting draged behind the truck for about sixty miles. Interesting strategy, dude. He manages to climb aboard, though, just in time to get...

Edited to Death!: ...As the truck drives slowly into a pile of barrels, then jump-cuts into a high-speed Flying Truck Explody. Apparently they just arrived at the St. Thomas National Jet Fuel Depository. Having divested themselves of the ninjas, Armstrong sends Toto back to the base, while he and Alisha get set to head out the Leo's base, Blackbird Island to rescue the missing Marines. (Remember them?) Or was it BlackbirdERS Island? Damn short attention span. And up yours, movie.

What the hell is that accent?: Armstrong and Alisha cit-chat a while, after a burst of make-out music that made me think we were about to see the most tacked-on sex scene ever. Wads of exposition splash across the film as Alisha finally fills us in on the plot. (Long story short: Her dad's been forced into creating genetically-modified ninjas. Same old story, huh?) Because one chunk of plot is never enough, we cut to Leo and a bunch of his Badguy Cronies as he adds his own...

Exposition... and SuperNinjas!: Okay, the shot of his Superninja Army positioned around an indoor arena was pretty cool. Nice colour co-ordination, too. But what's with the Red Ninjas? The one's on black are for attacking at night, I get that? But bright red ninja suits? Where are they heading, tricky assassinations in the Australian Outback? Leo waffles at length about his Uber-Army, leading to the expected outbreak of...

Ninjarobics: The usual display of co-ordinated kicking, punching and grunting is intercut with Armstrong beaking into the base with help from his Rambo-knife. (While beating up the occasional hapless Ninja.) Meanwhile, Head Ninja heads out into the arena for a little sparring practise with the Superninjas.

Self-Defeating Strategy: Okay, I have issues with this scene. Number one, is the best way to show off your unbeatable Superninjas by having them get their asses kicked by one well-trained swordsman? Doesn't inspire a lot of confidence in me, if I'm an International Badguy. Second, he's really killing off quite a lot of your own Superninjas, dude. Wanna tell him to stop? Any time's good. Leo?

Bullshitology: FINALLY Leo calls off Head Ninja guy. By this stage Armstrong and Alisha have infilitrated the base in their spiffy new Ninja disguises. They manage to join the badguy party, and we get more exposition as Leo runs a quick tour of the facilities. (Including his nifty Frozen Marine Pods) As you can tell by the title of this section, I had my doubts about the scientific accuracy of his project. Eventually our Heroes peel off and head for the Marine's.

Punch, kick, flashback!: Of course, theyrun into a little resistance en route. Very little resistance, really. Armstrong also has an oddly-placed Flashback to the first movie, which ends with a smoke bomb going off in front of him. In a stairwell. Don't look at me like that, I can't explain it, either.

Weenie-Marines, GO!: Back at the base, the Homoerotic Attack Force finally rouses themselves into action. (After spending hours deciding on whether to disobey orders... this after their flagrant disregard for just about every other rule in the book.) Jackson looks excited... I think he spots another opportunity to tear his shirt off. So, everything looks good for Armstrong. But as you can probably guess, once he finds and releases the Marines, the first place they direct his dumb ass into is...

The Arena! (Is THIS the Confrontation?): I sure hope it is... I'm starting to side with Head Ninja Guy... he at least LOOKS a little more badass than our Prepubscent American Ninja. Leoshows up with a convieniently-captured Alisha and The Superninjas run in for a bit of sword-fight-ery. And here we go! I quickly learned several important things.

 

• Swords go "thud"
• Ninjas have no blood.
• Four beaten-up U.S Marines can defeat 20 highly-trained, genetically-enhanched Superninjas in a sword fight.

  Eventually, though, weight of numbers takes its toll, and all four of the Marines appear to be dead. Note I say "appear". Things look grim for our Dorky Ninja Hero...

   

  Happy 4th of July: But here come the Marines! Nice to see they brought their ordinance from an unliscenced Mexican fireworks factory. I'm seriously questioning their decision NOT to change into their uniforms, too. It looks like the compound is being assaulted by the Jock Fraternity from Revenge of the Nerds. Actually, with Wild Bills goofy cowboy hat, maybe he'd fit in more with the Tri-Lams? Jackson commences with the shirt-ripping and tash-talking as Leo heads for high ground. (Leaving Alisha to her own devices. You suck as a hostage-taker, Leo.) Alisha makes the most of her new-found freedom to... well, stand around and practise her concerned looks while Armstrong FINALLY gets to go mano-e-mano with Head Ninja Guy. Bizarrely, we actually watch more of Jacksons' fight scenes than we do Armstrongs'. I guess the director finally realised who was the more interesting character. The funniest part of the flick occurs as Jackson suddenly manages to produce two HUGE Bowie knives from... well, somewhere. His ass, possibly. If so, even Goatse Man would be impressed.

  Exunt Leo/G.I Bro!: Leo ends up running into Alishas' old man, who's wired up a Multi-Genetic-Marine-Slash-Ninja Self-Destruction Device in about eight seconds. Lucky he had that lying around. And with one quick kaboom, they're outta here! Let's wrap this thing up...

  Shotgun!: The battle between Armstrong and Head Ninja Guy finally answers the question of why ninjas don't bother to pack heat. Head Ninja Guy produces a shotgun, possibly in an attempt to one-up Jackson. (Where the hell ARE they pulling these weapons from, anyhow?) Armstrong simply dodges the blasts. All together... "Yeaaaaah, right!". And so, we get the Final Confrontation as the two of them draw swords and spend about a week posing with them while Alisha makes a succession of ever-more amusing faces for our amusement. And three quick swordthrusts later, it's over. To avoid spoilers, I won't tell you who wins.

  Fakers!/And we out.: Anyway, once Head Ninja Guy dies... oops, sorry... two of the Marines leap up, completely untouched. Nice work lying there playing dead for the last ten minutes, guys. Alisha acts at acting pleased, there's a way too long post-battle wrap-up and we're done. Yeah, I'm sick of reviewing this film... nice of you to notice.

  Skeeters' Summary: Cheap, dumb 80's action flick. Not a lot for action fans, and not bad enough for stupid movie fans. Just kinda there. About what I was expecting, really. Lucky I hired a couple of other flicks this week. Mr. Pyun, do your worst. I dare you.

   

  SECOND OPINION

   

  BadMovies.org

  ---

  Onwards!

  Y'know, for most action stars, their early films are the best ones. Young, thin Stephen Seagal’s films. Commando. Die Hard as oopposed to Striking Distance. But when your early film is helmed by the infamous Albert Pyun, somehow I'm thinking it's got a good chance of bucking the trend. But, let's keep and open mind as we check out...

   

  CYBORG

  Previews! Let's see, we've got John Candy in Who's Harry Crumb?, Matt Dillion in Kansas, Julian Sands (What the hell happened to him?) in Warlock and a bunch of nobodies-in-particulars in what I first took to be the awful Where the Boys Are remake from 1984. It was instead Shag. Looked like the same film, really.

  Cannon Films! Yep, two Golan-Globus productions in a week. Man, I know how to pick them, huh? It's The Future, according to an introductionary voice-over. Usual sort of thing, war, death, misery andf plague...but hey, scientists are devloping a cure. Too bad whoever was doing the voice-over considered that a bad thing.

  Flea Markets... of the FUTURE! Man, they really need to un-clutter this future. We open with a couple getting persued through the debris of NYC (in slow-mo, no less) by a motley group on Badguy-Types. The chick takes off, as her male companion tries to holdoff their attackers. He does a less than stellar job of it, getting the crap kicked out of him. (How embarrassing must it be to be beaten up by a guy dressed as a battery hen... lose the feathers, dude.) In a nice piece of Pyun-ish editing, one of the badguys, a huge dude with no shirt, is seen walking toward the fight, then appears to stop and back up so he can join a large group of thugs doing a Right Stuff slow-mo stride to camera.

  Enter Voice-Over Guy! That'll be the rather monotonic leader of the street gang. Nice to see chainmail is back in. He wants to own the Cure, so as to makehimself "a God", apparently. He ventilates the guys throat, and we fade through flames to the credits. Well, this plot would fit on a matchbook with room to spare. Hey, there's Golan and Globus! Those guys must have been produced a crapfest a week at their peak.

  Chase me! Post-credits, the gang goes after the chick agian, aided immensley by her flame-red jumpsuit. Maybe she's a Superninja in her spare time? There's a sudden shot of a gang member getting kick-boxed into unconciousness. Hey, it's a cameo by Jean-Claude van Dammes' leg! (Although the editing did make me wonder how the girl managed to kick the dude while running away.) Two goons manage to corner the girl in an alleyway, which Jean-Claude apparently has the ability to see into... man, he's got X-Ray Vision.. OF THE FUTURE!

  Who Are You? Well, according to JCv-D's acting ability his first line displayed, it's actually Daniel Bernhardt! The girl (Who now appears to be a Cyborg, due to some computer graphics in her eyeball and a stop-motion clockwork hairdo) needs to get back to Atlanta. I guess she has a plane to catch. The gangs show up, blasting JCv-D (aka "The Slinger") through a door. Monotonic Badguy (MB until the movie tells us his name) takes possesion of the Cyborg Chick. (CC, until further notice) And we fade to that night.

  Early Flashback? Okay, I'm wrong... it looked like we were about to fade into a flashback, but it was just a confusing edit between The Slinger re-hearing CC's dialogue and MB attacking a random couple's wedding. (Possibly to steal their boat, possibly just because there's been no violence on-screen for eight seconds.) MB seems to like talking like a pirate, incidently. (Sure, everone calls the thugs "Pirates", but ease on on the "Mates", Jim lad.) The Slinger shows up at the scene of the attack that night and incapactitates a random someone.

  Care of Your Weapons Demonstartion Gosh, this following scene where The Slinger sharpens his knife is fascinating. Fascinatingly long, that is. Wait, now we ARE in a flashback. I think. Pony-tailed Slinger is suddenly "gedding people outtada ciddy" (his words, not mine), escorting a group of kids whos parents are dead. There's some indications that MB gets involved, bringing pain to a child. Well, that''s just mean! Hopefully we'll find out what this was all about before the end of the flick. But I have my doubts.

  Atlanta, the lost contintent!: Random chick wakes up, and apparently even she's heard the plot. The Slinger repeats "Atlanta" like it's some sort of futuristic Mecca. The pair chat for a second, allowing me to make a comparison between their equally-poofy 80's haircuts. (She wins, but only by a fraction.)

  The Odd Couple The Slinger and the Random Chick (RC for the moment... oh, and Albert, would a couple of NAMES be too much to ask for?) hook up, presumably to rescue CC. Or something. Fuck, I have no idea, and I doubt Albert did either. A rest stop seems to send The Slinger into a coma, but it's just another brief flashback. It now appears that The Slinger is after "Fender", who I'll assume is the Monotonic Badguy. Although he might just be after a bitchin' guitar.

  CNN.. of the FUTURE!: Man, no matter how munted the future is, there's always someone who can tell you exactly where Fender is and what he's doing. That's lucky, or the plot would just sputter out. We're into our third Flashback, with The Slinger giving up... uh, Slinging... to stay with the Southern chick and her siblings. We head to a...

  Random Unconnected Scene And just so you know, I think I'm going to copy-and-paste that quite a bit in this review. There's an equally-pointless shot on board the boat, before we head to...

  The Wasteland Which is helpfully signposted "The Wasteland". Which seems as pointless a streetsigns in the Sahara, but let's just smile and nod.Actually, the Wasteland appears to be a rather pleasant forest. Maybe the definition of Wasteland has been altered in the future. There appears to be a lively paintabll game going n out in the woods, so The Slinger bails. RC stands around for a second, then a jump-cut sees her go from 0-40 in about one second. She takes refuge in an abandoned building (Where did THAT come from?) as The Slinger begins killing people randomly. The building happens to be the Unexlainable Badguys hideout, as evidenced by the ones who rappel down from the upper levels. Man, they're prepare for everything, huh? They swiftly take RC hostage, but The Slinger has magically teleported to the building, too. Commence your kickboxing! (If we're lucky, that is.)

  Lucky? I should be so lucky... Yeah, there's a little kickboxing, but it a random mish-mish of confusing eidts. (Pretty much the story of the flick, really.) For those keeping score, there's more testicular abuse in the fight scene than normal, including one guy who gets them abused TWICE, plaus a knife in the back. Bad day at the office for that guy.

  Random Unconnected (Nude) Scene Hang on, weren't they just in the forest? Now they're on a beach? Man, geography (Of the FUTURE) is confusing.Well, it does allow RC a quick piece of full back-al nudity as she takes a dip. She runs like a girl, by the way.

  Flashback-ette Geez, don't ask him about Fender? It keeps triggering one-second flashbacks. Hey, we've shared our feeling for nine seconds. Tha's long enough for a Boobie Shot! Aww, he's too much of a nice guy to go for the Random Gratuitous Sex Scene. Annnnd... cue the flashbacking! So he hooked up with the Southern Chick, huh? Good, good... and for some reason, Fender showed up to perve at them... keep it going, we might actually finish the Flashbak a this rate... CRAP! Instead we see a sweaty Slinger wake up abrubtly.

  Apocolypse Fender! In the morning, Fenders' riverboat cruises past. Cue a long, extraordinaryily dark shot of... something. I THINK it's Cyborg Chick below decks, but it's hard to tell. Okay, yeah it's her. And.. GOD-DAMN! Now she's flashbacking! Well, at least we learnt her name... "Pearl". (t least it was before her Cyborg-ing, that is.)

  Ambush! The Slinger and RC catch up with Fenders' boat at an abandonded factory. Ahh, there's a surprise... nothing says "Dystopian Future" like an old, rusting industrial complex. Fender spots them coming, everybody splits up and it's about four seconds before RC wanders into danger. Meanwhile, The Slinger starts the game of cat-and-mouse, only to be confronted by a knife-twirling pirate. Hey, the guy brought a knife to a gunfight! So why are you putting away your gun, moron? Sheesh, some guys HAVE to do things the hard way, huh? nd so a slow-mo fight scene breaks out between The Slnger and the Amazing Chicken Boy. JCv-D gets to do his famous straight-legged split kicks, but basically gets his butt kicked. He makes a break, shoots some people, spots Fender and puts on his angry face. Random pirates attack!

  Hey, he beat up Animal! Never recruit Muppets for your futuristic pirate gang. They're not very effective. The distraction allows Fender to shoot The Slinger in the arm, wounding him so badly he has another flashback. Oops, looks like Southern Girls little sister grew up and joined Fenders gang. Oddly, she gets a name in the flashback, Haley, even though barely anyone else in the film has yet. The Slinger tosses a knife and runs like a rabbit, doubling back to take out Pearls two guards. (Which seems a little light, seeing as Fender appears to have about forty guys working for him.) Pearl basically emasculates The Slinger, refusing to go with him because he's "Not strong enough" to protect her. Ouch. Make up your mind, woman. So instead he takes the unconcious Random Chick and bails via the sewers. In slow-mo. This whole film feels like it's in slow-mo.

  Pitch-black Persuit Several pirates follow The Slinger into the drain, resulting in a sucession of under-lit scenes. You'll be glad to know they escape, however, "I guess I should have stayed put" Random Chick says afterwards. Well, as you were captured approximatley three feet from where the Slinger left you, it probably wouldn't have changed much.

  Run like the wind! (And like a girl) Man, The Slingers' running style is even MORE girly than Random Chicks! The chase is intercut with extra pirates craling out of the manhole, so apparently we're going to pad the film with an individual shot of everyone in the film. Finally though, Chicken Boy catches up with The Slinger in a swamp. (What the fuck part of the country is this? Albert Pyuins' blatant disregard for basic geography, as seen in Knights comes back to bite me in the ass again!) A knife-fight breaks out, although neither man seems to have the ability to even get their blade within five feet of each other. Meanwhile, RC is attacked by..

  Her identical twin? Guess these two went to the same Hairdresser... of the FUTURE! Shrieking Harpy Chick gets taking out in the typical blaze of Random Unconnected Shots that make up an Albert Pyun action sequence. (And frankly, I'm about to take out a court order banning Al from ever using slow-mo again.) THe Slinger gets the upper hand on Chicken Boy, only to be back-jumped by another pirate, who INSTANTLY carries him to... a sandy patch? In a swamp? Is this even the same fight scene?Stuff happens. Pirates run up. The Slinger gets knocked down, but doesn't get up again. There's now the remaons of a beached sailing ship in the background. My brain just handed in its notice and took a vacation. Apparently he thinks I won't need him for the rest of the film. They're back on the beach now! Fender starts pummeling The Slinger. Fender punches once and they foley in two impacts. It's not even lunch time and I really need a beer. Maybe two.

  Villian Rule Number 1! That's "Never just shoot the Hero"... Fender ties The Slinger to the mast of the beached ship instead. Yeah, that'll work, dude. Especially since Random Chick is presumably still alive. The Slinger shares a significant look with Haley before she runs off. Another flashback, this time to ones we've already had. They had better show us what actually happened in the end, or I'm going to be very ratty about watching the same footage repeatedly. Wait, we might be getting t the point at long last. Looks like Fender made Haley tortue hersekf with barbed wire while trying to prevent her family and The Slinger from falling to their deaths in a well. She failed. How this led to her joing Fenders' gang, well, beats the hell out of me. Anyhoo, this is intercut with The Slinger managing to kick down the mast, just in time to be rescued by Random Chick. Yay.

  Random Unconnected Scene Well, if it gets us to the end of the film, whatever.

  Atlanta City Limits! Which are apparently in the woods, although the random burning cars must be some sort of border marker. Do you think the city officials pop out there every day and torch a car, or was this just the result of bad drivers in Pintos... of the FUTURE? Our first matte-painting shot of Atlanta shows that it's a ragged, blasted ruin. Kind of like modern-day Detroit, I hear. (And it has its' own Perpetual Ominous Thunderstorm, too!) Suddenly it's nigh, and The Slinger has somehow gotten ahead of the pirates. He gives away his location right off the bat by firing an arrow at Fenders feet. Okay, WHERE did he get the bow? He hasn't carried one around with him, and I doubt many sporting goods stores are open in a war-devestated Atlanta. Especially at this hour. He immediately ditches the bow and goes for his knife. Just shoot him, dumbfucks?

  Cyborg: The Confrontation! And so another badly-edited knife-fight breaks out. Once again there's a chick to throw down with RC, this time Haley. (I think... it's kinda dark and difficult to tell.)People catch fire, things blow up, Haley (I think) is actually getting ready to fight The Slinger, staredown, staredown, staredown... Fuck, this editing is killing me here. No. it's not Haley, it's Fender about to fight The Slinger. Ahh, Haleys' just watching the rumble, with lots of closeups. I assume she'll help The Slinger win. Or at least just starting crying "Stop it!" like a petulant seven-year-old until she's nearly stabbed by Fender . Everybodys' dialogue devolves into "YAAAGH!", "NYUUUGH!", and "GAHHHHH!" as the kicking and punching continues. (Although that has been the only lines given to the minor pirates throught the flick. Screenwriting for Albert Pyun must be a breeze.)

  Two Minutes of Idiocy Later... Fender finally goes down after much "AGHHHHHH"-ing, coutesy of a knife (his) in the gut. Haley simpers on The Slingers' shoulder and...

  Robo-Fender ...He pops back up like Jason. Shoulda seen that coming. They duke it out in a building that's nearly pitch-black, save for the... you guessed it... light coming in through a moving industrial fan. Of the Future. The Slinger manages to re-break Fenders previously-broken arm, and either impales him on something, or Fender just winds down. ("AGGGGGGGggggggghhhhhhhh......") Anyway, the plinky-plonky score does seems to indicate he's finally dead. Haley seems to have gotten killed at some stage in the proceedings, but I'm buggered if I know how.

  We're nearly there... The film's winding down, as Pearl arrives back at her base... and we finally learn The Slingers name... Gibson. Gibson vs Fender? Sheesh. (Future Skeeter: In fact, the credits list most of the cast as having names derived from guitar and amplifier brands... "Fender Tremolo", "Marshall Strat". Which would have been interesting if anyone actually, I don't know, SPOKE the names during the film.) And less than a minute later, we're done.

  Skeeters' Summary: Awful fight scenes, non-existant plot and guttural vowel sounds instead of dialogue. Albert Pyun, you're off my Christmas Card list. Again. Don't bother, unless you're a Jean-Claude van Damme completist, or a schmuck like me who reviews dreck like this. And even then, I'd think twice about it.

he summer of 2004-2005 has been a bugger down here in New Zealand. Pelting rain, hailstorms, high winds and winter-like cold. So what am I doing during the consistently first week of good weather? I'm inside, watching movies, of course.

In fact, I'm on a Cheap-Ass Video Week. Thanks to Five-Flicks-for-Five-Bucks voucher, I've picked up a couple of films I've been meaning to see, one I've been intrigued by, and two that'll I probably get a few unintended laughs out of. So, let's get a few brief thoughts about my viewing choices, shall we?

Movie 1: Series 7

I'd heard a lot about this movie in the last year or so. It's a low-budget satire of reality TV, based on a Government-sanctioned TV show where randomly-chosen (?) citizens are picked to hunt each other down. (In effect, a Running Man-style plot, only seen from the other side of the camera lens.) There's probably dozens of on-line reviews of this film, so I won't bother with the details. Instead, here are my thoughts on the positive/negative aspects of the film.

Positives:

Solid Acting: Good performances all round from the core cast, especially with the off-beat subject material.

Excellent Parody of the Subject: This film truly captured the felling that you were really watching a Reality Show. (Especially during the wonderfully cheesy Bullshit Emotional Sequences.) On the small screen, these positives did veer into the negatives at times, though. Mainly because I became a little complacent, almost forgetting I was watching a movie. I laughed my ass off when the script suddenly became nothing but lines cribbed directly from "Worlds Wildest Police Chases", though... where was Sgt John Brunnell when we needed him?)

Some Good Black Humour: Ever watched a teenage temper tantrum end with a knifing? It's here, baby.


The Negatives:

Backstory?: We really had very little background on a society that condones on-air murder. (Which is appropriate, I suppose, as the "Show" is obviously meant to be seen as edited in a way that makes Fox News accuse them of being a shade biased.

Not Enough Franklin: Franklin James, the "Bat-shit Crazy" Conspiracy Theorist was one of the most interesting characters to me. The fact he's on the show makes me believe he was one of the few who actually DOES know the full story behind the show. Sadly, his screen-time was severely limited, and just as he starts to fill us in on his theory, he gets his ticket punched. Once again, in the context of the film, it's appropriate. (As anything he said on-air would surely have been edited out by the Oppressive, Yet Never-Mentioned Powers-That-Be.)

Skeeters Summary: Not bad. Not as good as I was expecting, but not bad.

Movie 2: The Living Dead Girl

This was the "intrigued" selection. Distributed by "Redemption Video", it caught my eye with its rear cover photo. (Showing the main character, dripping blood from her mouth and concealed with a badly airbrushed bikini... well, it's a French film from the late 60's, so there was bound the be full-frontal nudity at some stage, right?) I figured it was a vampire movie, and decided to give it a whirl.

Well, it's not a vampire flick. It's a zombie film... kind of. I think. The major problem with this film is... it's just too damn... French. Instead of explaining WHY our Doped-Looking Heroine had come back from the dead (Or DID she? Beats me...), the director insisted on being Mr. Artsy Fartsy. Which is fine, but when the plot is "Woman (possibly) returns from the dead, kills people with her over-long fingernails and eats them", we could probably have dispensed with the pretentiousness, yeah? I did learn a few things from this film, though.

• French Cinematic Toxic Waste is as versatile as American Cinematic Toxic Waste. Kills living people, brings dead people back to life.
   
• If you want your actors to pretend a barrel is really heavy, perhaps you should fill it with water or something. It kind of destroys the illusion when the barrel rolls like, well, a really light thing.
   
• Third-degree facial burns are instantly fatal.
   
• Bright red paint and blood are virtually identical. Not.
   
• Editing a film coherently is a skill. Hiring someone with that skill was apparently optional in France in '68.
   
• Adding an American may help your film sell in the States. Actually giving him something useful to do besides complain, whine, deny the obvious and eventually get a battle-axe haircut is also a good idea.
   
• Real Estate agents who "Test the Furniture" with their boyfriends are probably not going to see out the flick.
   
• French dance music kinda sucked in '68.
   
• Zombies eating someone alive: Good Visual. Zombie eating someone alive for three-four minutes while the victim screams incessantly: Slight Overkill.
   
• Y'know, an ending would have been nice.
  
  Skeeters Summary: Look, either do an Art Film, or a Gore Film. Don't be wishy-washy, dude. Neeh.
  
  Movie 3: The Blair Witch Project
  
  Well, the hype that turned this into a massive worldwide hit and made several student film-makers exceedingly rich is long gone. And so I was able to watch this film on its own merits. Both of them, in fact.
  
  1) It's realistically shot.
  2) It has an eerie final shot.
  
  Unfortunately, the rest of the film is simply a zero-budget student film with an improvised script. Improvised scripts can be a killer, in the wrong hands. This one quickly became a near-endless series of profanity, along with a near-endless argument about "The Map". (I capitalised the words, as we hear them more often than anything else in the film. In fact, you could conceivably re-market this as "The Blair Map Project", without changing a single frame.) Add to this a ridiculous plot-twist (Involving the Map, of course.) that comes sailing out of left field, almost as if he actor was as desperate as me to hear something new and ad-libbed at random. And the major flaw of this horror flick?
  
  It ain't that scary. The legendary Blair Witch’s' tactics involve many things. Origami, native handicrafts, sound effects. But a small pile of rocks is hardly spine-chilling terror in my opinion. In fact, the most effective scenes for me were often the ones shot in complete darkness. Which would be good if this was a radio play. Too bad film is an intrinsically visual medium.
  
  Plus, the motion-sickness camera didn't help. One of the "scary gifts" was what appeared to be a bundle of twigs wrapped around a blood-soaked scrap of t-shirt. But as the camera wavered all over the show, never centring on the object for a second, my wife snapped "Hold the bloody thing still!" in frustration... and she'd only arrived home to watch the last 45 minutes of the film.
  
  Skeeters Summary: Great marketing. Average film.
  
  Movie 4: American Ninja
  
  Ahh, Golan-Globus Productions... we meet again, at last. Well, I sat through [B]Breakdance[/B] recently, I can handle a rushed-to-production ninja flick. Pretty laughable, this one, with a plot that just makes less sense the more you think about it. To sum up, our Hero ("Joe") is a U.S soldier with no memory, no past, and, since he's played by Michael Dudikoff, no discernable personality. He rescues his Colonels unbearably bitchy daughter from an attack by a group I dubbed "The Podgy Militia", who manage to violate Ken Beggs Rule of Guns in fine style. (Those things actually work best if you DON'T hold them 1/16th of an inch from your targets head.) In the midst of the fistfighting, a group of extremely-lost ninjas show up, and any sense of logic gets tossed out the window. (Unless ninjas are routinely sighted in what appears to be the Philippines.) I actually took a page of notes, intending this to be a full-length review. Instead, I'll just list the things that I'll remember from the flick.
   
• Ultra-Bitchy Daughter mouths off to a Rebel armed with a machine gun and DOESN'T get her damn fool head blown off.
• Ninjas able to bounce around on a truck like it's loaded with a consignment of trampolines.
• "Joe" able to ninjitsu armed men to death without any one of them thinking to, y'know, fire the guns they're holding.
• My Pun Circuits going into overdrive as Joe Tool-Fu's guys to death. "You're screwed! See ya, Jack! He's barred!".
• 80's film-makers were not above using "Film-Run-in-Reverse-to-Make-Ninja-Jump-Backwards" trick.
• Bitchy Daughter becomes instant love interest, rather than getting a well-deserved slap in the mouth. My note read "Oh, fuck off!".
• The wide variety of VERY non-regulation haircuts among the soldiers.'
• The "WWII Japanese soldier not realising war is over" sub-plot.
• Why was the Japanese ex-soldier wearing a Chinese coolie hat.
• The sudden outbreaks of Ninja Gymnastics.
• Red Ninja! Blue Ninja! Yellow Ninja!
• For bad guys, Inspired Leadership always seems to involve snapping some guys neck during a training bout.
• The best way to avoid a court-martial is to have a Commanding Officer who's as corrupt as a Bolivian politician.
• For good guys, Inspired Leadership always seems to involve a brief brawl, followed by a manly handshake.
• The fact that pretty much everyone in the U.S Srmy is corrupt, incompetant, or both.
• Shadow Ninjas!
• The character of Johnson, or as I called him, "Rambro". Yes, you’re ripped. I still think you should be on a charge for your improper uniform standards, pal.
• Crashing cars always explode in a huge fireball, even after trundling slowly down a 20 degree slope and tapping a tree lightly.
• The bad guys lack of survival instincts. Standing and watching as ninjas fight, instead of escaping in your nearby helicopter, seemed a bad strategy.
• That ninja strategy is just as bad. Attack him one at a time, men! By the way, did any one you bring a gun? Nope? Good, just charge in and get killed, then.
• Ninja Magic just gets you killed in the end.
• Ninjas will ALWAYS run through swinging obstacles, even when they could save a hell of a lot of time but running AROUND said obstacles.
• Toy helicopters never really look convincing when they explode.
  
  
  Skeeters Summary: No boobs, no blood. I feel cheated. Mindless fun, though.
  
  Movie 5: The Punisher
  
  Dolph Lundgren, actor.
  
  I can barely type that with a straight face. (In fact, my spellchecker advised me to "consider revising" that statement.) I hired this as a comparison to the recent remake. God-DAMN, did it suck a mountain of suck the size of Mt. Saint Suckmore. Insanely, pontlessly violent, a script so thin you could read a paper through it, and Dolph in the lead role. (Even though he did vanish from the screen for large chunks of the film.) Poor old Lou Gosset, Jr. From Oscar winner to Mr. Monotone's second banana. What the hell happened there?
  
  I'm not venturing on a lengthy review, due in part to a VERY degraded tape that turned large parts of the film into an overexposed wobble-fest. (Stupid videotapes got thinner and cheaper as the years went by... I've seen early 80's-era tapes that have held up better than late 90's ones.) But, here's a brief summing up.
  
  Crap.
  
  Brief enough for you?
  
  I never read the Punisher comic... but I can imagine how badly the fanboys took this film. Imagine if MY comic hero had been played by a monotonic semi-actor, had the premise mutilated, and the heart and should of the comic ripped out in bleeding chunks...
  
  Oh, wait, I'm describing Judge Dredd, aren't I? I empathise completely, Punisher fans.
  
  Skeeters Summary: If the guilty are punished, the producers of this film should be on bread and water to this day.
  
  Well, that should have been it right there. Instead, Video Week became Video Fortnight, thanks to a newly opened video store and another "5 DVD's for 5 Bucks" coupon. I refreshed myself between crap with Family Guy: Season 1 and Billy Connelly, Live in Dublin. Then, back into the B-grade I charged.
  
  I'm a schmuck.
  
  Movie 6: Beyond Re-Animator
  
  I loved Re-Animator. I even loved Bride of Re-Animator, even though it's been years since I last saw it, and might hate it now. (Internal Memo: Look for THAT film next time I'm at the video store.) This much-belated sequel? Hadn't heard much about it, decided to complete the "trilogy". ("Trilogy" in the loosest possible sense of the word, of course.) What did I think of it?
  
  Well, let's lay the cards on the table. There's a ton of reasons I could have hated this flick.
  
  In no particular order:
   
• The bollixed time-frame. I'm SURE the first two flicks were set in at least the 40's or 50's, if not earlier, although that may be my fading synapses lying to me. (See Internal Memo above.) This one's set squarely in the modern day, which kind of negates the whole "Gothic Horror" thing.
• The rather one-note performace from Jeffery Combs as Dr. Herbert West. I'm aware he's played this role twice before, and should know better than I how best to approach it. However, he firmly maintains just one expression in the film, that of tight-lipped disdain for his fellow man. I did get one genuine laugh from his straight-faced "Interesting" line. He needed a few more reaction shots like that, I feel.
• The horrendous score. It started with "We're hoping Bernard Hermann doesn't get re-animated, because he'll come looking for revenge" music, an almost note-for-note steal from Pyscho. (Shrieking violins included.) Then segued into a less blatant rip-off, but one with what sounded like badly-placed amplifier feedback, which rapidly became annoying as all get out.
• The thrown-in-for-no-reason boobie shot.
• The disappointing lack of gore. (On the DVD, the director Brian Yuzna informs us it was a concious descion, wanting more horror and less blood. Which brings me to my next point...)
• It isn't scary.
• The leading lady and her mysterious floating accent. Looking at the cheap-ish production, I was expecting a crew list full of people named "...ov", but this film was NOT in fact shot in Bulgaria. Instead, it was lensed in Valencia, Spain. And apart from the two leading men, pretty much every actor was Spanish, speaking their dialogue in English. The female lead's name sounded European, though. As the film started, she affected a passable American accent, but as the film progressed, it gradually floated East, becoming more Hungarian-sounding (I think,at least... Bela Lugosi is my only linguistic guide.) by the scene. By the end, I was begging her to yell "Pull der schtring!". Most distracting.
• Logic, Coherant Plotting and Why You Don't Need Either: An Essay. My wife wandered in and watched a few minutes of the flick around the 65 minute mark. "This looks like crap." she noted. I was quick to leap to the films defense with "Yeah, I think the thing just choked on it's own stupidity.". Okay, not so much a defense as a summing up for the prosecution. Idiotic characters doing idiotic things, for idiotic reasons. Mad scientist accidently caused the death of your sister? Makes perfect sense to find him 13 years later and help him create more mayhem. (I originally thought the Young Doctor might have kept his sister on ice somewhere, and was looking to make Dr. West jump-start her. (Which would have been idiotic, but no more than the plot they actually used.) Find a massive syringe full of neon green liquid? Inject yourself! (Even REAL junkies might balk at that.)
• Fake-looking CGI Torso-Man! (See Braindead (AKA Dead Alive) for how a REAL living torso should look.)
• Fake-Looking CGI Torso-Mans' "George of the Jungle"-like swinging ability. Where the hell was he getting the leverage from? (Also applies to his ability to leap 20 feet across the room and choke someone.)
• Overacting that made Fatty Arbuckle look like the model of restraint.
• Zombie Attacks that could only be effective if everyone in the film was an idiot.
• Everyone in the film was an idiot.
• The fakest-looking rubber weiner in movie history. (Okay, it's a slim field, but it was ridiculously rubber-looking.)
  
  So, that's the reasons I should have hated it. But in the end...
  
  Skeeters Summary: Yeah, I hated it. The only bit I actually liked came in the end credits, a brief "gag reel" fight between an animated schlong and a rat. Apart from that, let us never speak of this piece of crap again.
  
  
  Movie 7: Ju-On: The Grudge
  
  This was an unexpected one, as I watched it over at my father-in-laws place after dinner. (I returned the favour by showing him Head. Japnese horror and The Monkees... what a combo.) I didn't have a lot of previous experience with Japanese horror films, even though I've been meaning to dig up Ringu for some time now. After seeing this one, I'm wondering if I might give it a miss.
  
  No, it's not that I didn't like it. It's just I've heard Ringu is scarier. And Ju-On is scarier than a barrelful of undead monkeys. Scarier than a Tom Green film festival. Scarier than Paris Hilton without forty pounds of makeup. You get the idea. (And after TWICE writing "This isn't scary" in these reviews, this was a welcome breath of fresh air. Or, putrid stinking air, if you prefer. It is a horror movie, after all.)
  
  The only quibble I had with the flick was its narrative structure, a very Pulp Fiction "Wait, is this BEFORE that last scene or AFTER?" style of film. I usually have no problem with this, but this film had its' own unique complication.
  
  I couldn't tell two of the actresses apart. Yep, it's a cliche that all Asian paople look alike to Westerners, and propbably the reverse is true... but there's a reason it became a cliche, after all. (And this coming from a man who's dealt baccarat and spent six years as a tour guide at the Auckland Skytower... I occasionally feel like I've met every Japanese person who has walked the face of the Earth. And more than once I've started to say the words "Back again?" before realising it's not the guy I sold a ticket to an hour ago.)
  
  But apart from that, this was a really good pychological thriller. Unlike 98.8% of Hollywood horrors, there was almost no blood until the last few minutes, no ominous thunderstorms or spring-loaded domestic animals for cheap scares. Just an unrelenting sense of creepyness and tension, some remarkably subtle scare tactics, and some of the most disturbing, hackle-raising sound effects I've ever heard.
  
  Now, is it worth going to see the remake? I have a sneaking suspicion I might be wisest not too. Just call it a hunch.
  
  Skeeters' Summary: When I arrived home afterwards, I was alone in the house for an hour. I didn't venture into the bedroom (Down the short, but darkened hallway) to close the curtains until my wife came home. Now THAT'S a scary movie! Two lightly blood-stained thumbs up!
  
  Movie 8: A Mighty Wind
  
  I rounded out the video binge with one movie chosen on the strength of it's ancestry. A Mighty Wind is of course the from the "folks" (Ba-doom-ching!) who brought you Spinal Tap. Centering around a reunion concert featuring three folk music groups, I found plenty to like in the film. It's not as consistantly funny as Spinal Tap, although I was amazed at how many simple, almost throwaway, scene-ending lines had me laughing.
  
  It's also an excellent musical, with most of the songs sounding incredibly authentic. They're a parody, of course, but it's an affectionate parody, a parody you can hum along to. The central ballad "A Kiss at the End of the Rainbow" is good enough to get stuck in your head for days afterwards, the title track a perfectly straight folk song with a hilarious final line that had me snorting coffee out my nose.
  
  Skeeters' Summary: Plenty of laughs, and toe-tapping music. All in all, a good end to proceedings.
  
  And so, my marathon o' movies was at an end. I could drop off the discs, head home, rest up and think about maybe getting some sun.
  
  Then of course, I grabbed It's Alive and It Lives Again on the way out the door. I'm a schmuck.
  
  FILM OF THE FORTNIGHT: Ju-On: The Grudge.
  
  FLUB OF THE FORTNIGHT: Beyond Re-Animator.

Well, this could be an interesting experience. Writing a review while watching a movie that's being streamed through cyberspace from a site called Clashtv.com. (NOTE: Now defunct, of course-FUTURE SKEETER) It truly is a small word these days. Let's just hope my broadband is broad enough.



Gammera The Invincible(1966)


Surf Guitars!: Whoa, who knew there was a Japanese Beach Boys?

Captain Scarlett?: We open with a shot of VERY puppety-looking jet planes flying through a painted skyscape. Destiny Angels, SIG! Cutting from there to a toy boat.. sorry, impressive naval vessel, we learn that an expedition is underway to find a shipping route though the fabled Northwest Passage (Ooo-er!). Meanwhile, Dr. A.G Hidaka drives his Tonka Humvee through the snow to a small Eski..Inuit village, proving that mid-60's igloos were made of moulded plastic. Very rescourceful people, the Inuits.

Mr. Iagi, photographer!: "I hope my camers don't freeze!". Good exposition, Iagi-san. Joing him are Dr Hidaki and the nearly-dispensable Science Chick. (She gets some dialogue here, then stands around and looks interested in future scenes.) Iagi takes a photo of the low-flying jets, which are Strange and Mysterious, it seems. The navy boys spot them too, making me wonder how far inland this village is. About eight feet, at a guess. They notify...

Arctic Air Defence, Alaska: Where everyone is in proper uniform, rather than bundled up to the nines. Must be a bitch to heat that place. A group of decidely non-Asian personell banter a little, including one with a brillianly over-the-top Wild West accent. Private Cisco Kid, stop harrasing the WACs, please. Is this the Americanised version, I wonder?

General Peter Pan!: Whoever told the General to stand in that pose should be beaten. It's a tad fruity, especially when you're yelling orders to your men. Anyhoo, the U.F.O's are headed for the "missile base', which apparently is on the Artic iceflow. Yeah, I can just see guys volunteering for that assignment.

Reds Overhead!: Great, it's the Godless Commies. I see a Diplomatic Incident and a shitload of paperwork coming up. General Arnold (Brian Donlevy) takes a call from "Washington, The White House.. the President...". Thanks for the heads-up, Corporal. If I get a call from "My house, the living room, my wife..." just put her on hold, okay?

We've struck Oil!: Oh wait, its just Heroic Army Guys' head. Man, he must have been responsible for the Great Brylcreem Shortage of '67.

Red Alert!: And I love how he puts the emphasis on "Red'. A shot of persuing U.S jets seems to indicate they're chasing the bogeys with the Space Shuttle Columbia. There's a tragedy in the making. The Ruskies fire off their secret weapon.

Inverted Missiles?: Who knew you could fire an air-to-air missile BACKWARDS? (I hope it's not heat-seeking, otherwise you've got an excellent chnance of instantly shooting yourself down.)The Yanks repsond with Doug Henning missiles, which fire, then magically re-appear so you can shoot them again. One bogey gets hit.

Goin' Down in a Blaze of.. BOOM!: Whoops, shouldn't have shot the plane carrying the nuclear weapon. (I don't think that's quite how they detonate, but let's not split hairs.) Iagi-san comes to the brilliant idea of actually using his camera, slight too late to get the money-making action shot. Lucky everyone was coindently facing away from the explosion, too. Flash-blindness would have made his job even more difficult.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch: Slightly-Wooden Afro-American Sarge reports in on the "4 megaton" blast... which is a pretty accurate assessment for about ten minutes work. Somebody promote that man. Everyone's safe from the fallout, though... the only cancer risk being the General himself, who's puffing away on a ciggy while being briefed. Gotta love the 50's and 60's. The only characters not to smoke on screen were the Giant Monsters and children under 10. Okay, 7.

The pavlovas done!: Okay, that's probably the ice-shelf cracking open, but I call it like I see it. Light comes spilling out, either from lava (probably not) or because a Giant Monster just turned on a really big torch. (Even less likely.) And...

Heeeeeeres Gammera! Out come the big-ass Turtle in a blast of snow! And with his arrival.. the Opening Credits! (Along with our first taste of the Gammera Roar... think Godzillas' classic roar, after a big mouthful of helium. The credits indicate this is the Americanised version, with Brian Donleavy second-billed. Well, I've watched Raymond Burr frigging around in Tokyo AND reviewed the Frankensteins' Monster of King Kong vs. Godzilla, so I can handle this. There's lots of close-ups of Gammera, which indicate he's made of fruits and vegetables. (Prune for a head, artichoke-scaled back, etc.)

There's that diplomatic incident I mentioned: Well, the Ruskies are claiming the planes were off course. Of course. But it's the height of the cold War, so it's probably unlikely. Meanwhile, we can't reach the other movie... I mean, the Japanese ship due to unknown radio interference. Presumable round, pissed-off chelonian interference. Typically, the General orders the menfolk to gather more info, scramble more interceptors and other military stuff. Sarah, our one American female cast member, gets to make him his coffee. (Black, 2 sugars. I'm just glad he didn't give her a tushy tap on the way out.)

Eski-moromoto: That is the most Japanese-looking Inuit I've ever seen. Iagi and co. pack up and ship out, leaving the natives to hope the wind doesn't suddenly change, showering them in radioactive particles. Before they go, the chief gifts them an ancient carving of a... dramatic chord... primative turle! (In the Arctic? I'll be right back, I have to Google this piece of proto-palentology.)

I'll be damned, they DID find turtle fossils in Arctic Canada! Score one for scientific accuracy! (Although I get the feeling the final score will be about 1-250 in favour of big-moster sillyness.) Gammera gets named here, as an ancient legend of death. Well, at least they didn't need the Japanese Ministry of Giant Monster Names to form a comittee. "Chelmosto!" "No, I like "Shellzilla!" "Are you trying to get us sued, Asoka-san?"

Gammera breaks the ice: Literally and figuraitively, introducing himself by busting through an ice-shelf next to the Japanese ship. Everyone panics, and for one glorious second I thought one of the crew was taking a cell-phone photo of the beastie. (It was of course a radio handpiece, what with it being about 35 years too early, even for Japan.) The crew abandons ship, as gammera unleashes his strangely Big-G-like power.

Flame On!: Burn, baby burn! He's got flamethrower breath! Then again, he just woke up after a million-year doze, so that's not too unusual. Amusingly, Gammera waddles along on his back legs, meaning that if someone devises a way to make him fall over backwards, the big guy is screwed. The Yanks get a report from their flyboys, letting them know a 150-foot tall turlte just ate their allies. It's met with mild scepticism, of course.

Non-Spinning Newspapers? Guess they had budget restrictions. Interestingly, the papers are all from different countries, yet all the headlines are in English. Like I said, it's a small world after all. The "Corriere Della Sera' has the headline "Giant Turtle? Baloney Says Scientists". Now I'm imagining a film about a 150-foot pissed-off baloney. I can dream, I guess. Le Monde goes with "Giant Turtle Controversy". Great, Japan probably wants to scientifically harpoon it. Cut to...

Oh, Dear Lord: Severe King Kong vs. Godzilla flashbacks as we join the TV talkshow of "Mr Standish", recalling the interminable discussions about Godzillas brain capacity. The set is hilarious... three chairs set up apparently in a basement, with a ladder and what seems to be (In the tiny box I was watching it on) a fire hose attachment. One of he shows guests resembles a young Ronnie Barker, and is of course sparking himself a smoke. The other guest is already puffing away. "Chordata Weekly was brought to you by Winston Cigarettes! Now with extra tar! Healthy, life-giving tar!" Eye-popping overacting and rampant smugness happen, along with the usual smattering of interestingly plot-padding facts.Dr Contraire brings up the Giant Prehistoric Turles of India, while smoking a David Copperfield cigarette. ("It's long, it's short, it's long again! Magic!")

X-Files '66!: Doc Contrare also speculates that there's a HUGE GOVERNMENT COVER-UP in place! I have no idea who the actor is playing the good doctor, but he's camping it up to the extreme, and appears to be having a really good time. I like him VERY MUCH! (Sorry, wrong Japanese sci-fi flick.) Checking the IMDB, it turns out he's Alan Oppenheimer, voice of Mighty Mouse in the 1940's and character actor in everything from four episodes of Hogans Heroes to Bonaza to The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy. 60 years in the industry and still going strong. Way to go, dude!

And it all ends in tears: Well, a flaming argument, anyway. Cut to Stock Footage of a Pan-Am jet. (I remember those. Vaugely.) Our Japanse heroes are on board. Iagi accepts his complimentary Plot-Advancing newspaper, turning instantly to a story about mysterious flying saucers being spotted. Complete with a photo of an upside down aerial pie-plate. Deep-dish apple spotted at 2000 feet, sir! If that's supposed to be Gamera, he's a Master of Disguise. Everyone is this half of the movie is convinced Gammera's the real deal... but what's happening in Mis-Matched Stock Footage Washington?

Gentlemen, welcome to another long, cheap dialogue scene: Well, it's just a guess, but... come on , make with the Giant Turtle already! The General begins his report, suddenly speak...ing... like.. William Shat..ner for reasons unexplained. One guys gives him a long stare presumably so we can make joke about his dead-on resembleance to Larry King. Senator Larry King Guy also speaks in a weird... stop-start.. kind of.. manner. Maybe they should have chanced their arm and hired some, I don't know... actors, for this film. Not the guys from the local bowling alley after they promised to supply their own cigarettes. The senator gets right over the top, prompting me to check HIM in the IMDB too. Ahh, a writer/producer with just two acting credits to his name. Probably a wise choice, that. Wait, he produces Revenge of the Nerds II and IV. I take that back.

The Upshot: Gammeras on his way to Tokyo. That's my summation of five minutes of dialogue, anyway. Bring it on, Shellhead!

Comedy Drunk Guy! Man, UFO's only apear for winos and rednecks, huh? After a few aerobatics, we head to the coastline. Look, a lighthouse! I hope Gammera gets to destroy is before the Beast from 20,000 Fathoms beats him to it.

Oh Good Lord, Part II: Uh-oh. They're introducing a plotline about a schoolboy who's "obsessed with turtles". I was hoping the Americanized version might have trimmed this bit... but no. We have a Orange on the 'Kenny Alert" meter! It turns out the kid lives in the lighthouse, and is facing the first ever reptile-based expulsion from a Japanese school. (His name is "Toshio", incidently, but "Kenny" is easier to type, so there.)

"Are you going to feed your turtle...: "...To your snake?". Okay, I admit, I added that line. Kennys Dad and oddly-older sister are trying to persaude the kid to release his turtle, because if you love something... I'm going to stop that sentance, otherwise Sting could show up and start singing. And this ain't a horror flick. Cue the mornful saxaphones. This is a weird soap opera plot, folks. Keeny releases his pet, apparently from the top of a cliff. (Evil kid.) Kenny lies down to mourn his loss, and several HOURS later (It's night all of a sudden.) Gammera literally sneaks up on him, appearing over the clifftop like the worlds largest Stealth Reptile. He then manages to make one of the quickest sideways movements I've ever seen, so that Kenny can look over an unoccupied cliff, then find the mammoth critter to his right in the mother of all double-takes. (He needed a mouthful of water for full effect, too. *spray*) Gammera gets a nice full-face shot, revealling his mammoth underbite. If those tusks curved the other way, they'd be going straight up his own nostrils, methinks.

The illusons of Penn and Gammera: Man, that creature can MOVE! One moment he's there, then POOF, Just as Kenny sister Noboyo arrives, he's outta here! He does cause an bit of an earth tremor, before revealling himself for the THIRD time. Nobody likes a show-off, man. His huge googly eyes wobble back and forth, making me think there's an optometrist somewhere about to make a FORTUNE creating his corrective lenses. Mild panic ensues and Kenny runs back to the lighthouse. Probably after a net and a frickin' enormous jar with holes in the lid. Gammera rips the roof off the lighthouse, instantly killing Kenny. Oh, damn, he survived. Kenny hangs onto a rail for a few seconds, then loses his grip and plummets to his death. Nuts, no he doesn't...

Gammera makes the catch!: Dude, if you eat him, I'll give you all the lettuce leaves I can find.

Japanese First Aid: After diching Kenny on the ground, his family immediatly pick him up and shake him like a margarita. Yep, that should help any broken bones to heal. Good work folks. Interstingly, when he wakes up, there's a quick blast of the ol' Porno Sax. Interesting choice of music, Japan. Meanwhile, Dr. Hidaka FINALLY arrives at Tokyo Airport. But that's not very interesting, so we head right back to the Lightouse Family. (I'd make a joke about the band, but I honestly can't remember the name of any of their songs, so let's move on.)

Gammera Come Home!: Man, Kenny takes a licking and keeps on ticking, huh? And where's the Big guy? creeping slowly toward a nuclear power plant, of course. This cold get ugly fast. A company man inside feels the first Gammera-induced tremors. His boss tells him not to worry as "We have them all the time here". Great place to build a nuclear power plant, then. Okay, my mistake, it's a "Geothermal Plant". Take that with as many grains of salt as you like. A pilot spots Gammera and radios in, but gets nothing but "a high-frequency noise". Having just watched a segment of MST3K's Alien From L.A episode, I assume he's hearing Kathy Ireland talking.

Meanwhile... somewhere else.: Doc Hidaka, Iagi-san and the Science Chick arrive at some sort of army base. They've been tracking Gammera, who's able to cross a pretty decent distance in ten minutes. The first Gammera-cacking scheme is rolled out, using the 350, 000-kilowatt output of the power plant to take him down. (Allowing Doc Hidaka to use the expression "It might just work." Cliches are in position, sir!") Also rolled out is the the Stock Footage of WWII tanks. (The Japanese military can deploy itself damn fast, I tell you. Hidaki and co. pile into a jeep (off-screen) and drive.. somewhere.

"Red Scout Calling Red Leader!": Dude, the Cold War is on. Bad choice of callsigns, yeah? A stock shot shows they're driving through the Araizona A-Bomb site, apparently. Buy a tree, Japan! Arriving at the geothermal station, they get ready to crank up the Juice on ol' Shelly. Hidaka orders Full Discharge, which just sounds filthy if you're... well, me. The electricity works about as well as throwing pillows at a supertanker, so it's time for...

Stock Footage Attack!: About here I learned a harsh lesson. Watch where you click during a streaming movie. Otherwise, you might accidently close the page and have to re-download the flick. I think I'm busting my 5 Gig allowance this month, for sure. Oh well, time to spellcheck my work so far.

Man, my spelling sucks. Onwards!

So Gammera gets busy on the Powerstation, which explodes a lot. ("Some like it hot, and some sweat when the heat is on...") There's an interesting shot of Gammera blowing flame in reverse. "Doctor, it looks like he's eating it!" someone shouts. Well, the special effects eat it, anyway.

Professor Bleachdome: Hey, a blonde Japanese guy. I assume he's supposed to be a grey-haired old scientist. He chats with Hikada about his acient Pet Rock, while the Air force continues to ineffectually bomb Gammera. (Who hasn't moved from the spot in the time it's taken Hikada and crew to travel to wherever the scientist guy is. Continuity is not this movie strong suit.)

Back in Washington...: More guys in a room, more arguing, more bad acting. The Japanese want a few Yankee missiles to blow Gammera up real good. Meanwhil in Japan, night has fallen, but gammera's still standing. Professor Morasi (Pronounced "More-ASS-y"? Tee hee.) shows up as the Yanks get set to fire nukes at the big guy. Hikada nixes the idea, so the military immediately caves in. Man, this is one wussbag army.

On the other hand...: Once Hikada speculates that Gammera might be vulnverable to cold, the Military guys immediately tell them they own a "Cold Bomb", which lasts for ten minutes. Whew, that was handy. Gammera wanders off, leaving the power plants as an area ripe for redeveloment. The Freezing Bombs are deployed pretty much instanteously. I'm now thinking Japan uses ACME to deliver its military ordinance. It appears to work because Gammera.. well, slows down. He IS a turtle, so I'm hardly expecting him to run the 100 in 9.9, but I'll go with it. The Good Guys plant a butt-load of dynamite in six minutes (Now THAT'S Japanese efficiency!) and clear the area.

BOOM! And he's down!: They've done it! he's on his back and helpless! With nearly half the movie to go, too! Hmmm... I sense a plot-twist.

Holy Flaming Frisbees, Batman!: And suddenly, Gammera ignites four flaming gas jets(?) from his shell(??) and flies away upside down.(!!!!!) Y'know, I've read about this ability, but it's still a mind-fucker of a scene. And with that, Hidaka finally works out the Rogammera Stones meaning... It's a flying giant turtle. Goofy monster movie logic at it's finest!

The United Nitwits: General Arnold gets the chance to address yet another rather cramped room of stuffy white guys. (And one African guy for colour. Wait, I badly phrased that. Oh, never mind.) He once again goes into his usual halting.. trying to.. rememeber.. the technical.. details.. delivery. Also in the room is a fez-wearing man. Either he's the Morrocan delegate, or the Shriners have double-booked the room. Internatinal co-operation is pedged to defeat the creature, which is a lot easier than today, due to the fact that only ten nations seem to be represented at best.

The Yanks and Reds go at it!: And it suddenly breaks down with the U.S and Soviet ambassadors shouting at each other. Well, at least these American scenes are consistent. Eventually a joint command is agreed on. Phew, that was a minor crisis averted. Plan Z is raised as the best way of destroying Gammera. I assume that means the first 25 plans just plain sucked, huh?

Back in the Original Film: Stuff happens. Kenny and family move to Tokyo while the lighthouse gets rebuilt. Kennys now preaching love and tolerance to turtles. Man, that kid needs therapy. An odd edit later, it's night tme. Good, dream of turtles and shut up, kid.

Stock Mayhem!: Gammeras' frigging around with the tides, causing oil tankers to collide and the footage to get all old and grainy. Also stock footage of planes arriving make the main headlines. Slow news day. Gammeras' back in town and he's ready to PARTY! Plan Z gets almost-revealled, and we're shown the island with attached dormant volcano and research facility it'll hopefully happen at. As the research facility is a Gerry Anderson-esque model, I think the chances of Beakface showing up are pretty good.

Gammera buzzes the tower!: Man, he could lose his pilots liscene for that stunt! Oops, misjudged the height. RIP air traffic control! He then appears to spontaneously explode, although a shot later indicates he's fine. Just loves to make an entrance, that guy. And we cut to...

Gammmmmmera!: Oh, dear. Gameras' got his own theme song. Sung by a bunch of 60's Japanese beatniks. It's a total knock-off of the Batman theme, but the kids seem to dig it. Groovy, man. Gammera breaks up the party. Literally.

And it's ON!: Tokyo is under attack! Again! And just like all Giant Monsters, he follows standard operating proceedure and makes a beeline for the nearest tourist attraction. In this case, the Tokyo Tower. As Mothras' lawyers quickly prepare the copyright infringement lawsuit, Gammera files a deed poll to drop an "M" from his name. Oh, and kicks ass on various cardboard and balsa wood skyscrapers. We cut between unconvincing special effects and unconvincing model work as the populace run and flee. Kenny abrubtly goes missing thanks to a jumpy edit, and we cut to a...

Loaded fuel train?: Y'know, keeping the trains running on time is the sign of a good city, but this is just tempting fate. Kenny folows it to the refinery, where Mr Leatheryback is rearranging the buildings. It turns out the train is actually part of Plan Z. Bags not being the driver of that one. Plan Z's main aim seems to be "Wait until Gammera sits directly on a train line." Which he obligingly does. VERY polite society, Japan. The train trundles in, blows up and we... cut to a ringing telphone.

What IS this plan?: I'm losing the already rather tenuous plaot here. Apparently they're going to keep rolling fuel tanks at Gammera until he... I don't know, gets tired? Kenny, moron that he is, hitches a lift on a train. The foreman tries to rescue the little idiot, and...

Cliffhanger Explosion!: The train blows up. Three times. YES! And no. Yep, they've leapt off at the last second, and weren't killed by the force of the explosion. Stop taunting me movie!

Fun With Accents: Back at the U.N, the American movie goes out of it's way to insult the Japanese movie, with the Japanese Ambassador uttering lines like "Our fuel surplise dangeloury low.". This after the perfect-English dubbing of the original is pretty cringe-inducing. Doubly so after he assures the Soviets they're working "around the crock" while not putting enough emphasis on the 'r'. They have twenty-four hours to get the Plan in action. No kidding, it's ALWAYS twenty-four hours.

Ahh, Science Chick spoke!: Well, one line, anyway. Plus "Goodbye". What a rewarding role. Gammera's still at the refinery, in the water now. (And apparently showing off his genitalia to the dockworkers. How rude.) Kenny sneaks on board a ship inside a cargo container. Well, hopefully there'll be trigger-happy armed guards on board.

VERY efficient country: Y'know, a Giant Turtle is attacking your country. When did you have time to have the "The Plan Z Headquarters" sign made? Oy.

Follow the boats, Gammera!: Well, they found Kenny. Apparently he stowed away from the dock to.. the dock again. The ship never left. Fun Fact: There's no Japanese word for 'continuity'. Oh no, he's on the island, apparently. So maybe the word "editor" is what I meant.Finally, the plan rolls into action.

This is the Plan?: Apparently the plan is to sailt miles out to sea and shoot oil barrels, making them explode to draw Gammera to the island. Because he'll instinctivly travel miles to a tiny oil fire, abandoning the blazing refinery and the huge, combustable city he's mere feet from? Ooooo-kay. Sure, the six oil barrels manage to set the entire sea of Japan aflame, but still...

I see a problem: He'll have to cross a time zone or two. It's midnight where Gammera is, yet daylight on Oshima Island. And then...

YES!: That's the sound I made after the filmakers went "Giant Turtle? Not enough.. let's throw a typhoon in there as well!". Yes, there's the Worlds' Fastest-Forming Typhoon on the way! And it's going to cause... volcanic activity? That's brilliant. Even I didn't see that twist coming. Because I'm not clincally insane.

Plot spinning off into the void!: So the typhoon winds show up thirty seconds later and start to blow the fire out. In ten seconds, the fire's out. Gammera turns back, as Iagi takes matters into his own hands, setting fire to a small hut. This seems like a logical course of action, so Hidaki orders the fire lit. And helpfully, someone must have already laid a gas trail to the fuel dump. Five seconds later (No fat in this script) an explosion draws Gammera back to the island. He waddles ashore as the rain starts. And begins to put out the fire. God hates these people.

And then...: The volcano explodes. So does my head. Everyone gets happy, rather than dies in the volcanic fury. And suddenly a strange edit takes us to... the next day? Later that afternoon? A year from Tuesday? And... we're at the research base, looking at a matte painting of.. things. Big Things. I have no idea what's going on. Sorry. Okay, they're setting flares alight, attracting Gammera, who appears to have survived the (brief) eruption. He steps onto a trap so obvious Wile E. Cyote would reject it, and is encased in a geodesic dome.They energise the Big Thingees and... blast him into space. You think I'm kidding? Somehow or other they built a Gammera-sized rocket in 24 hours and blasted him to Mars.

Um. The end, I guess. I need to go lie down.

Oh, the film? Pretty fun. Stupid, but pretty fun. Now, maybe I'll check out those sequels.

Oh, and HUGE thumbs up to clashtv.com. They rock. If I had an iPod, THIS is what I'd be downloading to it.

Daylight Saving Time had kicked in during the last film, so I adjusted my watch and on we charged into the wee small hours. This is usually the time that things get weird. And this time was no exception.

Part 7-He Died In A Tragic Gardening Accident...
Sunday, 04:35-THE LOVE BUTCHER

The opening scene of any movie can really set the tone for the film. Who can forget the first time they saw the Star Destroyer thundering overhead in Star Wars? The “Rosebud” scene from Citizen Kane? Or the cockroaches introductary musical number from Joes Apartment? Well, from the moment the camera panned across a garden with idyllic music tinkling away in the background, only to focus on a woman who’d been impaled on a pitchfork, we knew we were in for something a little different.

And by the same token, a little familiar. In fact this film covered pretty much the same ground as The Psycho Lover, with a similarly tiny budget, an equally laughable script, and a horrible attitude towards women. The main difference was that this film had been made in the 1970’s, and hadn’t faded to purple. This was not necessarily a GOOD thing, as it allowed the true God-awfulness of mid-1970’s interior decoration to be projected in all its garish horror. In fact one of my notes reads “Worst décor of the decade”. (The Purple Rorscah Test wallpaper and the Giant Polka-Dot Living Room were STILL not as bad as the Wood-Panelling From Hades.)

To sum up the plot, there’s a bad case of murder going around a nice, upper-class neighborhood. One of those nice neighbourhoods where everyone can afford a gardener. The same gardener, actually. Caleb, a semi-handicapped, partially balding weirdo with bifocals so big he can probably see through the the crust of the earth with them. Who gets belittled and abused by every women he meets. Oh, and did I mention that all the murders are being committed with gardening implements?

If you think you know who might be committing these heinous crimes, give yourself a pat on the back. You’re thinking a lot clearer than the cops in this flick ever did. In fact, this movie has the distinction of having the Least Efficient Cops in Movie History. You could have put Clint Rickards in charge of the investigation on the weekend of the Erotica Sexpo and he’d still have figured it out faster than Captain Bonehead and his troops. A scene late in the film as two cops and a reporter stand around holding various gardening implements . With their bare hands, naturally. CSI this ain’t.) and are STILL unable to draw any firm conclusions. Finally a lieutenant perks up. “Wait a minute!” he says. The audience held its breath. The cop walks over to a map. “Look, all the murders were committed in this area here...” If the crowd had had the ability to reach into the film and punch the characters, I think I would have been first in line to take a swing. You could have beaten the Police Chief to death with a garden gnome and his subordinates would still be hauling in bakers and bartenders for questioning.

So, it’s a bog-standard stalk-and-slash flick, right? With gardening impplements. Oh, no. This has a twist... and a delight. The (rather obvious) twist is that the murders are being comitted by Calebs sauve, sophisticated studmuffin of a brother, Lester. And it becomes obvious five seconds after his intro that Caleb and Les are one and the same.Yes, it’s our second homage to Hitchcock in two flicks. (Oh, wait, no-one mentioned Psycho on-screen, right? So it’s techincally a “rip-off”.) The delight? The once-in-a-lifetime performance of Erik Stern as Caleb/Lester. We first see him as the crippled, shy Caleb. I instantly noted him down as the “Anti-Michael”... in this case a young man badly made up to look like an old man. He’s pretty over-the-top in his own right. But once he makes the transformation to Les, a poofy-haired 70’s swinger, the movie whsitles gleefully off the rails and into the realms of hugh camp.

You see, Les’s M.O is to single out women who’ve dissed him as Caleb, adopt a laughable disguise and a ridiculously overdone accent and weasel his way into her bed. His Texan “Buck” is only topped by his brilliant turn as the least-convincing Peurto Rician ever, “Lester Hernandez”. Then of course, he gets to snap and murder his chosen victim with everything from trowels to hoes to pruning shears. (“Nope, can’t see a pattern here, Chief!”) All the time spouting some of the most memorable dialogue in any Marathon-screened flick to date. “The Ultimate Blowjob” speech, notwithstanding. 

Take this gem for instance: “Your feminine pulchritude is detestable, and you were trying to drain the energy from me!”. He’s also able to use the term “Nymphoid satisfaction” with a straight face. You’ll be unable to maintain one while hearing him deliver the line. His conversations with Caleb makes Andy Serkis’s Gollum speeches look positivly restrained. To get the right effect, read this line out loud.

“I shall go to her. Women love me, Caleb. I'm not like you. You're ugly. But I am handsome and delightful. She shall love me, Caleb, as much as she hated you. I am love, total love. I am Lester, and I am alive!”

Oh, and make sure your voice is reaching the threshold of pain by the time you say the final sentence. Follow it up with some maniacal laughter of possible.

Couple this insanity with some of the most bizarre editing in deades and the movie becomes even more of a trip. One murder sequence involved Lester drowning a woman in his swimming pool with a garden hose. (“No good with the firemen, Chief... we’ll start interviewing fishermen tomorrow...”) She gives us a nice bikini cheesecake shot and dives into the pool. Out of nowhere Lester abrubtly appears in there with her. Abrubtly, she’s naked. (“Hey, her swimsuit dissolved!” was my confused take on that shot.) He drowns her, end scene. During the next scene we keep cutting back to fill in the gaps. (She taunts Lester, he dives in, rips off her swimsuit and cacks her. So we couldn’t have seen that in some sort of coherant order, Mr. Fellini?)

I even invented a new term for this film... “Block-Juggling Edits”. Like when a juggler is constantly swtiching three wooden blocks around, always seeming to leave one dangling in space. This was like that, only leaving huge chunks of orphaned plot elements hanging out there. But who cared... it was all about Lester, baby! (One scrawled note in my book reads “Act MORE, Lester!”. Yeah, faster pussycat, ACT, ACT!)

More comparisons to The Psycho Lover emerged. A laughable car was featured, this time a mid-70’s convertable with two huge fuzzy appedanges attached to the windscreen. I dubbed it the “Eyebrow Car”. (If they meet in the middle, chances are it’s a werecar.) More drippy love balads were sung. More screeching harpies got their chance to shine. (Including “Bucks” chosen victim, better known as Daisy Dukes’ Bitchy Twin Sister.) More necrohilia, thankfully implied. No condiment rape, thank God. (Although by 5:30AM the cops could have retrieved all 57 varieties of Heinz sauce from the Holiest of Holies and no-one would have even been surprised.)

Our Hero-by-default, a reporter who managed to pad out the plot with a lengthy argument/boinking/continued argument with his girlfriend, finally managed to put the pieces of the puzzle together. He hops in his car, the brand-new 1975 Datsun Ugly-As-Fuck to confront Lester, who’s on his way over to whack the reporters girlfriend. Yes, they ALSO employ Caleb, who’s apparently the only full-time gardener in the Continental United States. Lester is on foot, leading to the longest continous sequence of shot of a man walking briskly through the streets ever commited to celluloid. By the third time we cut back to him I figured he actually lived in a different town to Reporter Guy. By the fourth, a different state. By the fifth, I was urging him to call a cab, take the bus, hop a freight, steal a car, ANYTHING! Still, they manage to get their timing co-ordinated enough for Lester to ventilate our Dorky Kind-of-Hero with the Hedge Clippers of Death! (“Oh, he’s a GARDENER! I get it.. urk.”)

With the Reporter out of the way, Lester quickly became the Snakey Bender of the ‘07 Marathon. He was nuts, sure. But you couldn’t help liking him. Even when he was practically talking his victims to death, affecting a dodgy cockney accent or making fun of the handicapped, he was just hard to hate. Unlike Caleb, who I wanted to punch in the face on numerous occasions.

But all good things must come to an end. So after one more display of inadequate policing, Caleb gets the upper hand in the pyschological arm-wrestle of his, does a little Extreme Home Therapy and gets busted. I’m guessing the cops are still trying to work out why they arrested him.

Things I Learned From This Film:
*The kitchen really is the most dangerous room in the house. Especially if you have pinking shears in there.
*Bugs Bunny-level disguises actually fool people in the real world.


Collateral Damage?: No begonias were harmed in the making of this picture.
Frenetic Camera Work?: Tracking shots were really bumpy in those pre-Stedicam days.
Big Beefy Guys?: Caleb was oddly-proportioned, if not exactly chunky.
Exploding Cars?: I wanted to blow up the orange Datsun for the good of humainty.
Chicks Not to Mess With?: One or two had spirit. The rest were wet, simpering nancy-girls.
Product Placement!: Would YOU pay to advertise your stuff in this film?
Character Under Severe Mental Torture?: Both of them.Yes ma’am, those two were cuckoo.
Suicide of a Major Character?: Only in a strictly psychological way, really.

Skeeters Summary: Insane, deranged and with major scenes re-arranged. My only problem is I can’t remember if the classic “Deranged Killer stalks a victim for five minutes in a sparsely furnished room while she hides in plain sight” scene was in this one or The Psycho Lover. I THINK it was The Psycho Lover, if only because I remember it being a pretty purple coloured scene.

Part 8: Danger, Danger, Frank Drebin!
Sunday, 06:15-FORBIDDEN PLANET

It was that time again... the pre-breakfast movie. This one would either be a kinetic audience-rouser, or something insane to get us going “What the fuck?” over our bacon and eggs, right? Actually, it was neither. Instead it was a sci-fi classic from 1956, starring a still-doing-his-serious-roles Leslie Nielsen and Robby the Robot in his first feature. It’s intelligent, well-written science fiction with a great cast, amazing production design, an excellent animated monster, a minimum of “spacey” technobable and a tense climax.

Of course, it’s also a little dated, deliberately paced and fairly talky. And so, in short order it was naptime for the beanbag section. And the stalls. And presumably for the balcony. I stubbornly resisted sleep for one major reason.

I’d never seen this film before.

So I gamely resisted the sirens song of sleep. Besides, I was in pretty good shape for going on 20 hours without a rest. I yawned once during the flick and had a couple of moments where the scene I was watching suddenly stopped making sense for a second or two. But on the whole I kept up with the film pretty well. It’s well worth a watch. Just make sure you’re wide awake when you do so.

Nah, I’m not going into a detailed plot synopsis. It’s a fifty-year-old movie, and even I knew a fair bit about it before watching it. Just check it out next time it shows up on MGM, or late-night TV. You’ll thank me for it.

Things I Learned From This Film:
*In sapce, you are definitely you own worst enemy.
*NASA’s First Contact rules allow you to French-kiss the people that you meet.
*There is never any such thing as “Too much whisky”

Collateral Damage?: Redshirts ahoy!
Frenetic Camera Work?: In 1956? Um, no.
Big Beefy Guys?: Robby was kind of an Inverse Pear shape. Could probably lose those arm-muffins, too.
Exploding Cars?: You’re thinking WAY too small.
Chicks Not to Mess With?: More like a chick not to mate with.
Product Placement!: Product placement in the 23rd century would be like putting an X-Box 360 logo in The Island. Oh, wait.
Character Under Severe Mental Torture?: Uh-huh.
Suicide of a Major Character?: Once again, yes, but in a really psychological way.

Skeeters Summary: I don’t think anyone had any complaints with this. Some people enjoyed the change of pace, others enjoyed the 98 minutes of blessed, refreshing sleep. The only real problem was the first instance of film breakages this year. Still, that was 15 hours later than in ‘06.

Sunday, 08:00-BREAKFAST!

Ahh, salt, fat and cholesterol. Just what every growing boy needs. We’d adjourned once more to the Bakehouse Cafe for the ten-buck breakfast buffet. (Although there was a second, healthy option available at a smaller cafe down the road. What sick bastards took THAT one up, I wonder?) I brought along the video camera and conducted a few mid-marathon interviews . (Which will have to be severely edited after one person mentioned [EDITED FOR YOUR PROTECTION. NOTHING TO SEE HERE. MOVE ALONG.] on camera.) Suitably sated by the average food and the typically shithouse Bakehouse plunger coffee, we headed back to the Hollywood. I grabbed a few other video opinions of the ‘Fest so far, including Craig Parkes,  and even managed to find one person who rated Resident Evil as a highpoint. (That was of course the previously-mentioned Red-Haired Zombie Flick Chick.) I grabbed a few more wobbly shots around the theatre and headed back to the stalls for our final premiere of the night.

Part 9: If “The Love Butcher” Was an A-Flick!
Sunday, 09:10-MR BROOKS

The marathons’ main theme was well established by now. Psychosis, mental torture and fragmenting personalities! (And that would also go on to describe US in just over two hours time.) This one stars Kevin Costner, playing well against type as a Mr. Man of the Year... who’s also the Serial Killer of the Moment. Ballsy choice of parts, Kev! Also in the line-up are William Hurt, playing the part of Kev’s “Lester”. Yes, psychosis has a face, and it’s William F’n Hurt! Awesome. And rounding out the cast is tough-chick cop... Demi Moore.

Fuck. And we were doing SO well.

I’m sorry, I just can’t stand Demi Moore. Doubly so when she’s the “Tough Chick”. Her acting annoys me, her performances always feel one-note and I never find her the least bit believable. But hey, Costener and Hurt, right? I was willing to give it a go. Besides, this really felt like a Marathon flick. We had sex and violence, full-frontal nudity, black comedy, the works. It was a little uneven, but I was getting into it. Then it happened. The alarm on my watch, set to 10am (the time I open the doors at the winery I work at) went off. I shut it off quickly, and blinked.

My watch now read 10:20am.

The post-breakfast film is really becoming my bogey flick. Thunderbirds Are Go! was tedious. Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang was rended a disappointment by my constantly intruding eyelids. Oddly, I was fine for Paparazzi, although since Psychout to Murder was directly afterwards, that film was obviously just there to cushion the blow. But now I’d not only broken my record for “Most Consecutive Minutes of Sleep at a Marathon”, I’d also slept through the introduction of a major subplot. And suddenly, nothing made a damn bit of sense. I picked up the loose threads as the film went on, but still was left asking for explanations about the final few scenes.

Dammit.

Generally speaking, the reviews on the night and later on Facebook were mixed. It seemed like a good watch to me. But I won’t know for sure until the DVD comes out.

Things I Learned From This Film:
*Never accept the offer to share the end of a blanket right after breakfast. Full stomach+warmth=lights out.

Collateral Damage?: Umm?
Frenetic Camera Work?: Possibly
Big Beefy Guys?: Minor.
Exploding Cars?: I have no idea.
Chicks not to Mess With?: Certainly.
Product Placement!: Buh?
Character Under Severe Mental Torture?: Yep.
Suicide of a Major Character?:  Sort of, but not really.

Skeeters Summary: I’ll tell you next year. When I’ve actually watched it.


INTERLUDE: or Sunday, 11:20-The Unfortunate Pixar Experiment

Three films to go... and Ant had promised that the next film would quote, “Fuck with our minds”, unquote. Well, no problem there. Many of us had sat through The Holy Mountain last year. Nothing could scare us. But first, how about a few more trailers.

And then it went horribly wrong.

You see, instead of our hand-picked Youtube compilations, the projectionist screened a trailer reel of his own devising. Some “hilarious” TV adverts were first. (Sadly, they weren’t) An art-house trailer next. (Points for trying, I guess.) And finally... the “gag reel” end credits from A Bugs Life. Now, I repsect the hell out of the Hollywoods projection team. They cram themselves into that tiny, hot little booth in shifts for 24 hour to keep us happy. But this was somewhat of a mis-step. One, I’d guess 99% of us had seen this before. Two, bar Fliks’ “To infinity... and beyond!” line, no-one found them funny. And three, once the “out-takes” had finish, the credits kept rolling. All the way to the end. The audience booed. A slow handclap was given. Ant apologised for wht we were watching and claimed no responsibility. I haven’t seen an audience get so ugly since Street Wars refused to end back in ‘02.

Finally it was over. As a comedian, I know what it’s like to bomb occasionally. Trust me... that was a 5-meg comedy nuke.

But if we thought the torture was over, we were wrong. Compared to what was ready to un-spool before our eyes, the Randy Newman scored atrocity we had just seen was going to seem very minor indeed.

Part 10-The Good, The Bad and the Legless Albino Belly-Dancer
OR
Here We Go Again!
Sunday, 11:30-EL TOPO

I was in the bean-bag section for this flick, deciding that sitting on the bare wooden floor would stop me dropping off again. Steelpotato, Andrew todd (I think) and I each had open cans of V. We agreed that if El Topo was Ants “mind-melter” this year, we’d chug them just to help us through. The moment a black-garbed gunman and his naked seven-year-old son appeared on the screen, we emptied those puppies. The reaction from the peanut gallery was amazing, too. An even split between yelps of pain and wild cheering. I think I was in the former camp. Back-to-back Alexandro Jodorowsky films, Ant? You sadistic bastard.

For those unaware of this film, it’s Mr. Jodorowskys’ surrealist Western. If you’ve never seen a surrealist Western, I’d have to say this is the best one. Because I’m pretty sure it’s the only one.

Anyhoo, let’s get to recapping. If I can. Hey, I even took notes! Three and a half pages of notes. I wonder if any will make any sense whatsoever?

Okay, here’s a confession. I started to re-cap the flick. But it’s like shovelling soup uphill with a pitchfork. It’s not meant to make any sort of cenventional sense I know, but by the time I’d gotten up to the Naked Monk Horsey Rides, my re-cap itself made as much sense as a blog entry from the Ultimate Warrior. So I deleleted it. Screw it, the review is 13,000 words long already, and there’s two films to go. So if you want a detailed synopsis, go here: http://www.subcin.com/bookfilm01.html

It’s got pictures and everything. All I’m going to do is transcribe my notes exactly as I wrote them on the night. You’ll probably guess why I gave up so quickly.

Here we go again...
Buy the Kid some pants!
Slaughterhouse Cinco
Worst Funhouse Ever!
The Mansalughter Kid
Doc Hollidays Secret Shoe Fetish. (w/jolly music)
Getting his rocks off.
The 3 Amigos Ride!
Gunfight at the O.K Balloon Shop!
Shoot first, ask questions later.
Hey hey, we’re the monks... eeeee!
Hilarity and horsey rides.
Chunky Guy!
Again with the random livestock!
El Rambo!
Johnny Cash, Serial Killer
Longest death scene ever
Interpretive dance duel
Colonel, no privates
Suicide now a running theme for sure
Abandonment issues. (Don’t leave the kid with a bunch of Catholics!)
In the desert on a horse, etc...
Let the biblical anaolgies begin!
Unexpected Rape-age
4 Masters in the desert
Legless midgets again? (Riding an armless guy! Master Blaster!)
Frank Zappa, yoga monk
Duel of the WTFs?
Things continue to happen
Two chicks?
Smash the mirror!
Really chunky guy
Philosphy fight!
Dirty pool/Monkey noise momma
Kitten With a Whip 2!
Bunny ranch
No animal welfare laws.
He feels no pain (call a copper)
Subtle fruit metaphor
Desert Hermit Brawl!
Bunny barbeque
Bwa?
Rickety Bridge of... Something.
She shot Kris Kristoffesen!
Send in the Handicapped
Psalm of the bearded lady
More fun than a barrel of midget
Incest (implied)
Eat the Beatles
He’s been reborn!
Fiesta del loco
The running of the loonies
El Shaolin Monk on a Donkey
Clown show
Chunky Women( Turnabout is fair play)
Old Lady Gangbang! (Ravens mind snaps!)
‘we’ve lost our audience’
Dual nekkid fat guys!
The return of El Topo
Orthodox Russian Roulette Catholics?
Reckless Child Endangerment!
The Cellulite Cellar speakeasy
EXTREME MIDGET F-----G!
Family reunion

And right about there my notes end abrubtly. The movie kept going for another ten minutes or so. But let’s face it, I was done. My co-ordination had left me, making me knock my torch over twice in the space of a few minutes. I had ODed on V, and kept having to abandon the theatre for the little marathoners room.(I ended up watching the final reel standing at the back of the theatre) Ravens mind had been well and truely melted by the scene in which six huge old ladies sexually molest a young black man. I turned away from the screen and found him staring at the screen, a frozen rictus of perfect horror on his face. When I looked back thirty seconds later, he was still frozen like that. I watched him for nearly a minute and I swear he never even blinked. I wasn’t sure whehter to yell for a medic or make like Gen. George Patton and slap the hell out of him.

Interestingly, Raven e-mailed me after the marathon. Someone has sworn they’d seen me videotaping his freak-out, and he wanted the footage. Chalk another one up to a Jodorwsky-induced hallucination, because my videocamera was still back in  its case. (Ant had given me a loudly-whispered warning after he spotted me aiming it at the screen during Forbidden Planet. Don’t worry,  I wasn’t pirating a 50-year-old film... I was trying to take a still shot of the cartoon Id Monster. Due to bad timing and the horrible low-light capabilities of my camera, all I got was a blurry shot of Leslie Neilsen’s crotch. It wasn’t really what I was aiming for.)

And so, our second bout with Jodorwsky came to an end. Apparently he made a third film. I got five bucks that’ll show up next year. And then what? Start the cycle again? Or take my suggestion on the night and play The Holy Mountain again... backwards.

I figure it’d make more sense that way.

Things I Learned From This Film:
*I have a higher tolerance for huge old ladies than Raven does.
*Jodorwskys films defy any attempt at filling out a Running Themes checklist.

Skeeters Summary: On the whole, I think I liked The Holy Mountain better. I have the urge to re-watch that one a fe dozen more times. El Topo? Seen it once, probably wouldn’t go out of my way to track it down again. Perhaps there was too much plot in the surrealism this time?

Part 11: Let’s Get Brutal!
Sunday 13:45-THE LEGEND OF BIGFOOT

We were into the final stretch... but Ant had promised us a “nasty” film.And not with the pronunciation of ‘Nasty” that implies “sleazy”. More like... brutal. This was going to be the soul-crusher. The men-from-the-boys sorter-outer. it was in fact... a bigfoot film. The first since... oh, dear God. The Curse of Bigfoot. Do I hear the dried-out rustle of... stock footage?

Do I what. In fact, Ant had done the impossible. He had found the only Bigfoot movie with MORE stock footage than Curse of Bigfoot. Which you may recall featured ten full minutes of lumberjacking. So how could there be more stock footage than that? Well...

1) It’s a documentary on Bigfoot.
2) It’s made by a self-confessed Bigfoot nut, and features his own Bigfoot footage. and
and
3) The footage in question runs maybe four minutes, tops.

Yes, the remainder of the “film” is some brief footage of director/narrator/idiot Harry Winer wandering over rocks and looking at mountain lakes, coupled with about an hours worth of natuire footage. Over the brief, though still excruciating 76 minute running time we see so much North American wildlife I could probably write a thesis on it. And maybe an essay or two on  Lumberjacking.

Right off the bat, the audience was all over this one. The opening credits set the tone, superimposed over what was either purple woodgrain, or badly faded footage of Sequioas. Whatever it was, I let loose with a yell of “FOCUS!”. Ten seconds of the same shot later, someone in the center stalls fired off the classic “Excuse me, but this is a MOTION picture, right?”. The movie tried to stifle our will to riff with its incessant tediousness, but we weren’t giving up that easy in the back row. Fallback said later he thought I was pretty restrained this year. He should have been sitting in the cheap seats. Every shot of wildlife became the object of a lame pun (“Hey, nice beaver!”) or a gasp of “Bigfoot! Oh wait, it’s a squirel.” A closeup of a heavily-browed Bigfoot statue made me remark “It’s Meatloaf!”.

Eventually, Bigfoot showed up. As a scraggly-looking guy in a suit film in blurry hand-held footage. Well, I’m convinced. More stock footage unspooled. Trees. Geese. Meese. Uh, Moose. Squirels.

Hoo, boy. Squirels. Boy, did we get to see squirels. Because Harry decided what his shitty documentary-slash-mismatched stock footage film festival needed was a little pathos. So, to illustrate Bigfoots survival potential, he brought his already glacially-paced movie to a complete standstill and gave us... The Squirel Snuff Film.

Well, almost. You see, we first got to watch a playfully courting couple of squirels frolic. On the road. Cue a fast-moving Land Rover. Cue also the groans of disgust from the audience as ol’ Hank cuts to the “After” shot of the female squirel limping away on one pulverised leg. Thanks, Harry. You sadistic prick.

It wasn’t over. We we then treated to the ‘Survival of the Fittest” race between the squirel, limping back to her burrow, and the circling buzzards overhead. Buzzard, liming squished squirel. Squirel, circling buzzards. This goes on for quite some time. Seriously, three to four minutes of running time are devoted to watching a maimed squirel. Evetually I let loose with a very public plea of “Oh for God’s sake, can we move on now, please?”. Finally, we did.

And got to see more stock footage. Huzzah.

Then, the comedic highlight of the film. Henrys very own footage of Bigfoots GLOWING RED EYES!

I nearly laughed myself into a siezure. The footage showed two glowing objects all right. Car headlights. Or maybe a truck. or two motorcycles riding in formation. The footage was repeated five times, each time zoomed in a little more. By the third time, I couldactually see the shape of a Landrover. (“It’s Bigfoot! And he’s driving that Isuzu!”) But to Henry, this was just perfect proof of Bigfoots’ existance. (Of course, his footage does seem to prove that Bigfoot should be visible at a distance of three miles or so. Which would make it difficult to remain hidden all these years.)

By the end of the film, our energy was sapped. The final few minutes of grainy Bigfoot footage flaoted in and out of focus as my eyelids fluttered. Thanks, Hank. Your stupid film nearly sent me to sleep again. Jerk.

Things I Learned From This Film:
*Bigfoot drives an SUV
*Nature is icky and it sucks to be a small fuzzy part of it.
*The word “beaver” is intrinsically funny.

Collateral Damage?:  No squirels were squished... Wait, let me re-phrase that.
Frenetic Camera Work?: Blurry/shaky and crappy camerawork, yes.
Big Beefy Guys?: Lot of huge Mountain Men with beards you could carpet your log cabin with
Exploding Cars?: I wish.
Chicks not to Mess With?: Chicks, cub, puppies, you name it.
Product Placement!: We’d like to thank the Hollywood Stock Footage Library...
Character Under Severe Mental Torture?: Narrator under severe mental derangement, actually.
Suicide of a Major Character?: We should be so lucky.

Skeeters Summary: Apparently this is only the SECOND worst Bigfoot movie in existence. Please be merciful, Ant. I can only ganw off so many limbs in a year.

Part 12: It’s Been a Long Time, Movie...
Sunday, 15:20-VIDEODROME

It’s all but over. One film left in the can. As is traditional, I returned to my origianl spot at the front for the last movie and was glad to hear Ant officially call this the “Fan Favourite” spot for the first time. I’ve been calling it that since ‘02, even though he’d originally used it as his “End of the World” flick. And once this movie started... well, frankly it stopped again. (The film breakage prompted someone who’d been at last years show to do his best imitation of the not-in-attendance Stephen Grey with a classic “Ten Seconds into the last fucking film!’ shreik. Kudos, dude.) We sat in the dark for a while, with wisecracks being fired off alla round. (“That’s all folks, thanks for coming everyone!”, “Just re-play The Legend of Bigfoot!” and my own contribution “Your replacement film tonight... Gigli!”)

Finally we got it started again.  It crapped out three times more in the next half hour. Unbeknowst to me, Cherie packed up and left after the first breakage. (She was home by 5pm, and asleep 10 seconds later, she reports.) Her main reason for pulling out was that the movie threw off a creepy 8mm vibe for her, and she’s not far wrong. It’s a fairly icky story of televised torture, mind-altering videotapes, gruesome (if somewhat plastic-looking these days) special effects, masochistic sex and some deeply disturbing violence. Which makes the circumstances of my first viewing of it seem even weirder to me now.

Let’s rewind a little. Say, 20 years ago. I was a massive sci-fi fan back then. I still love a good sci-fi film now. But as a kid, I was uber-sci-fi-nerd. And one Christmas I was given a huge book on sci-fi films. One of the pictures intrigued me. A mans hand, melded organically into a handgun. The film? Videodrome. I didn’t read too much of the description of the film, but that gun/hand effect stuck with me. And so, long before we had our own video recorder, I suggested it as a pick for a group video evening.

An Anglican Youth Group video evening.

My Youth Group leader read the back of the box, was intrigued, and hired it along with a few other flicks. The red “R18” sticker should have been a big ol’ warning sign. That night, a bunch of 14-year-old Christian Youth Group kids were watching a naked Debbie Harry urge James Woods to cut her during sex.

We watched the whole film. I think our Youth Group Leader liked it a lot. Later that year we had another video evening. This time we hired Bride of Reanimator. It was a good year to be in that group.

I hadn’t seen Videodrome since. It’s still fairly bleak, disturbing and perverse. But these days, I’ve seen worse. it’s well worth a look, but only if you’re in the right mood. (Hah, no plot synopsis again! You either had to be there, or you’ll have to hire it sometime.) And inbetween the wild hallucinatory scenes, I did spend a good deal of time marking out for the massive 80’s VCRs and the occasional sighting of obselete video game consoles. What can I say, I’m a child of my times.

Things I Learned From This Film:
*David Cronenburg is a sick puppy. (And yes, I learned that back in 1987. This just reinforced that idea.)

Collateral Damage?: Actually, most of the damage was very precisely delivered, really.
Frenetic Camera Work?: Not so you’d notice.
Big Beefy Guys?: I stopped looking After the Bigfoot movie, I’ve seen enough hairy round guys for a lifetime..
Exploding Cars?: Pass. Look, it’s been three days since I satrted writing this review. The details are getting fuzzy.
Chicks not to Mess With?: Debbie Harry did a topless bugy at 55. I wouldn’t mess with her...
Product Placement!: The Atari gaming console was probably just set decoration.
Character Under Severe Mental Torture?: That’s pretty much the whole film, yeah.
Suicide of a Major Character?: Twice. One fatal.

Skeeters Summary: Intruiging, dark and way ahead of its time. Just don’t show it to your 14-year-old.

And that, as they say, was that. Another years’ marathon was over. We made the fastest job of cleaning up the Hollywood yet, getting the place tidy in five minutes or so. Nice work, all. And nice work to the guy I spotted collecting something like a dozen full cans of V before the lights had fully come up. I had the same idea. But you snooze, you lose.

I videotaped the V survivors for posterity, said my goodbyes and did the big hand-held tracking shot out into the bright sun... what the hell?

It was raining. Hard. The last thing you hear before the video shut off is my sigh of “Typical stinking, fucking Auckland weather.”

Dawn picked me up about ten minutes later. Everyone had headed their seperate ways by then, so there was no Nerd-herd to stink out the car. (Well, except her own personal Nerd) The last of the Facebook crew I saw was Dave Brough, cramming his beanbag into a taxi across the road. Dawn and I picked up the usual Thai takeout and headed home. An hour later, I tried to watch Dr. Who. Unsucessfully. Luckily I had the forthought to tape the episode as well, knowing I’d never be able to focus on the story.

And then, like last year, I gained my forteenth wind. And so I did something I’ve never done after a Marathon before. Something that seems incredible to me now. After 33 hours on just 20 minutes sleep, and 12 feature-length movies...

I watched a movie.

Honestly, I only put on Rock ‘n’ Roll High-School as a “warm-down”. I expected to be asleep in ten minutes. But somehow I watched the entire ninty-minute film and never even yawned. Dawn even watched it, and remarkably liked it a lot. You want a review? okay, here goes. The Ramones rock. They can’t act, but they rock. P. J Soles is cute. Clint Howard is atcually funny. Teen comedy can be done with knob jokes and tit shots. The concert footage is awesome. And Dick Miller is good in anything.

And at 10:30PM, 35.5 hours after getting up on Saturday morning, I finally hit the wall. Mmm, sleep. Sleep is good.

The Final Thoughts

As always, I suffered for my geekitude. My neck was killing me from the Atomic Head-Snaps around 9:30am. My throat was hoarse. I’ve been staring at a computer screen for 3 days typing this monster. It’s 4:30am as I type this sentence. I don’t even want to know how many mis-spellings I’m going to have to correct this week. And it’s 350+ days until we potentially do it all over again.

God, I love the Marathon.

Thank you, Ant. Thanks, Hollywood. And thanks to all my fellow V-sters for supporting this thing.

I’ll see you next year.

The hairs on my ass assure me of this.

==========================
Additional Afterthoughts/Errata
==========================

After posting this  review I suddenly realised I'd forgot to mention the one on-stage contest held this year. Five contestants were brought up to do their best imitation of Caleb-becoming-Lester from The Love Butcher. Everyone did a terriffic job... but none more so than the grand prize winner, who not only did a Clark Kent "glasses on, glasses off" transformation, but also fired out the greatest maniacal laughter I've heard in years.

The winner? None other than the B-Movie Crews' own Doug "Fallback" Dillaman. Awesome job, my man!

Errata Time: Fallback has since e-mailed to let me know that Annette , aka "Ms. Fallback" is actually a friend, not a partner. So noted. I still like to refer to them as "The Fallbacks", though. It makes them dound like some weird 50's sitcom.

Also, I'll be removing a comma that turned Dave "Steelpotato" Brough into two seperate entities. I blame Alexandro Jodoorwksky for the confusion.

Part 2: CNN: The Movie!
Saturday 18:00: THE KINGDOM

Throughout the night we had a number of five-to-ten minute long breaks between flicks for the dual puposes of nicotine importation and bladder evactuation. (Which worked well for me until an overdose of V sent my bladder way out of synch in the last few hours. Okay, too much info, huh?) A few more Youtube-ettes played during the breaks, including a couple I’d sent to Dave Brough. I’m glad to claim that I was the one who found the audience-pleasing Bollywood tractor fight scene featured in the first break. Sadly, another clip I’d sent, entitled “Worst Fight Scene Ever” was cut off before its eyeball-impaling climx. (Oddly, someone else sent him the same clip, calling it “Best Fight Scene Ever”. I stand by my opinion.)

And so our first premiere for the evening began. And if any film was going to divide the room, this rather contentious selection was it. Its star? Jamie Foxx. Its setting? Saudi Arabia. Its theme? Terrorism.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I deflated considerably mere minutes into the film. You see, as an occasional comedian, I was doing a fair bit of political material for a while there. And as such, I watched a lot of CNN. And consequently, I am sick to my tits of the shitty state of the world today, and the word “terrorism” in general. (Try to count the times newscasters use it these days, for any reason whatsoever. “A tree fell down on the freeway today. Terrorism is not suspected.”) And so, I hunkered down for two hours of a movie I would never have paid to see, and probably only would have watched if I’d stumbled across it on Sky Movies. I was in fact preparing myself for a miserable experience.

And frankly, that was an unfair assumption. It’s actually a pretty good film. It’s not a gung-ho, rah-rah-rah, Stars-and Stripes waving flick. (Which makes me wonder on the types of films that would be coming out now if Golan-Globus was still in existence. Chuck Norris in “Baghdad Mission 2: The Infiltration!”) The characters are likeable, including a surprisingly good job by Jason Bateman, of all people. There are plenty of action sequences, including twenty minutes where the taught political thriller suddenly resembles a first-person shooter. (I was left wondering if there was anyone in Saudi Arabia who DIDN’T take a shot at Jamie Foxx in that scene.) It balances the political and religious commentary with the main plot of Foxx and co. trying to track down the perpetrators of a terrorist atrocity at a Saudi U.S base. (Fallback referred to the first half of the film as “CSI: Rydeah”.) In the end, I have to admit there’s only one thing I really hated about the film.

It’s a film that really, really wants to win an Oscar. It’s screaming for a tiny statue of a nekkid man with a sword. And how do I know this?

Because the freakin‘ camera would NOT KEEP STILL!

I’m serious, man. It was the kind of flick where the camera man either is in the early stages of Parkinson’s Disease, or they’re filming it onboard a small, untethered barge in a harbor somewhere. And I’m not just talking about the action sequences, either. Sure, the camera was whipping about a lot in those, but I was expecting that. In fact, after seeing Spiderman 3: Epileptics Not Admitted on the giant screen, I was actually quite impressed that Hollywood could film a hyper-kinetic action scene and make it coherent enough to work out what was happening. (The balance was restored around six hours later when an action sequence in Film Six ended. And I immediately turned to Fallback and said “Okay, what the fuck just happened?” More on that later.) But a talking heads shot where the cameraman is apparently under instructions to wobble about like he’s knocked back a fifth of Scotch before arriving on-set? Sudden zoom shots? Leave those to the Shaw Brothers. Bouncy, hand-held tracking shots? Look, if you’re trying to make me feel a part of the film, at least give my character a name and some dialogue. Who am I, the weird mute guy that just follows the main characters around all day?

In other words, who do I have to fuck in Hollywood for them to screw the damn camera to a tripod for once?

Rant over.

Speaking of rants, the death of a character late in the film did inspire a little public political debate, which was quickly shooshed by the audience in general. I only have two things to say about that.

It was his own fault. Because if you’re a minor character in an action film, you should NEVER tell anyone your first name, or mention you have a kid. I immediately realized he was toast.
If you’re one of 250 people cheering Jennifer Garner wildly for stabbing a Saudi in the testicles, you are instantly disqualified from starting political or moral debates.

In conclusion then, better than I was expecting. Apart from the one major continuity error I noticed. It was set in the Middle East… and the Americans won.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

Things I Learned From This Film:
*Jamie Foxx can not only survive a multiple rollover, he’s able to run, jump and instigate a twenty-minute firefight afterwards. And outrun explosions.
*To get on well with Saudi authorities, make sure your team includes a minority, a women and a really foul-mouthed guy. They love them.
*Coincidences solve crimes.
*Hollywood still uses grenades that are powerful enough to blow up small planets.


Collateral Damage?: Plenty, although amazingly you can fire an RPG in a Saudi street without killing any civilians. Who knew?
Frenetic Camera Work?: You invented the Stedicam for a reason, Hollywood! USE IT!
Big Beefy Guys?: Jason Bateman is a lot bigger than his Teen Wolf 2 days, yes.
Exploding Cars?: Exploding everythings. And a doozy of a car crash, too.
Chicks Not to Mess With?: Don’t mess with Jen. Unless you’re not overly attached to your gonads.
Product Placement!: About average for a Hollywood flick these days.


Skeeters Summary: Maybe not exactly perfect Marathon fare, but a decent enough flick for what it was.

During the break, I discovered Cherie had arrived, having ditched the wedding she was attending pretty much right after the vows. Goota love someone who’s got their priorities right. I joined her in the second-to last row of the downstairs stalls. It was time for... something.

Part 3: The Hardest Easiest Review Ever!
Saturday ???-???

I have to hand it to Ant. Every year he throws me a reviewing challenge. In 2002 I had to try and review Street Wars without making any actionable death threats against Jamaa Fanaka. Then in ‘03 I found myself recounting my thoughts on an anti-syphillis movie without resorting to knob jokes. In 2004 I had to sum up the plot of Pyschout to Murder without typing “This movie sucks the balls of a dead anteater” over and over again. In ‘05 I had to tiptoe around to avoid giving plot spoilers for the year-away-from-being-released The Descent AND discuss the incest-is-best sexploitation film. And last year, I had to recap The Holy Mountain without having my brain liquefy and drip down my nose. And in ‘07?

Ninty minutes of something we are not allowed to talk about. At all. Nothing. No plot summary, no titles, not so much as a cunning hint. Nada.

I was torn. How the hell was I meant to review this bit? Did I just pretend it never happened, claiming that The Kingdom was some sort of one-off Directors Cut that ran 4 hours and change? Or did I do this?

Skeeters List of Things That MIGHT Have Happened Between Movie 2 and Movie 4:

*Peter Jackson made a guest appearance and showed us ninety minutes of his personal “Hobbit Porn” collection.
*Ant did a catch-up interview with George Hardy from Troll 2 and we couldn’t get him to shut up for 87 minutes.
*I fell asleep for an hour and no-one would tell me what happened.
*A group of V marathoneers re-enacted The Black Gestapo in the style of an Oscar Wilde play.
*The projector broke, and Ant entertained us with birdcalls.
*Two words: Nerd Orgy.
*Catwoman screened. Everyone went to Spiders bar until it was over.
*Black Devil Doll From Hell screened. Eight people gnawed off their own legs.
*An eighty minute roundtable discussion on the carrer of Matt Damon

Things I Learned From This Film:
*I know nothing. Noooo-thing.

Collateral Damage?: ???
Frenetic Camera Work?: ???
Big Beefy Guys?: ???
Exploding Cars?: ???
Chicks Not to Mess With?: ???
Product Placement!: ???

Skeeters’ Summary: Nothing to see here. Move along.

Part 4: Mmmm... Bacon!
Saturday, 22:15-THE PYSCHO LOVER!

And it was sexploitation time! I held my breath. Was it to be in the balls-to-the-walls smutfest style of Confessions...? Or the bore-you-to-tears style of Behind Locked Doors? Actually, neither. This flick most reminded me of The Colour Purple

Literally.

I’m serious, the colour fading on this print had dyed every scene a rich, healthy purple. Like, Prince’s wardrobe purple. Hendrix Haze purple. Really, really purple. And the film itself?

Nine shades of awesome.

It came of course from that brilliantly bonkers year of 1969. Not just the Summer of Love, but also the summer of badly-scripted, cheap-ass, mysoginistic roughies. And right from the word go, I knew we were in for a treat.

• “You’re watching The Pycho Lover, and this is a drippy romantic pop song! Please enjoy the speedboating footage while we show you the name of everyone who even talked about this film in pre-production!”

• No, no, we understand. You hired a speedboat, and we’re quite happy to watch every second of the footage.She’s drinking Purple Death! Oh, it’s a martini. Easy mistake to make.

• Oh, I’m sorry, It’s DOCTOR Philandering Idiot.

• Dr. Ken is in fact a pychologist. Maybe he can work out his reasons for marrying a screeching harpy. And his reason to tell her to her face that he’s having an affair.

• Meet Lt. Morlock! If this was an 80’s sexploiation film, he’d be Lt. Morcock, of course.

• Ken and Morlock are trying to solve a series of grisly sex murders. To which a man named Marco has already confessed. Their ineptitude to prove this results in several more deaths. This theme of incompent cops continued throughout the ‘Fest.

• How grisly are the murders? Well, let’s watch one, shall we?

• It’s funny, but Marco, the Women-Hating Voyeur is actually one of the most likeable characters in the film.

• Y’know, we’re 4 films in without having the audience give a mass “EEEW”! So let’s watch Marco get it on with his victim. AFTER he’s strangled her.

• Well, according to the audience reaction, necrophilia is less disturbing than incest. Unless you’re boinking a dead Peter Bark.

• The first sighting of Dr Kens’ car! Drive the new What-The-Hell-Is That 2000 today!

• Seriously, it’s a bizzare-looking kitset something-mobile that appears to have been moulded from plastic. Then squished in random places before it set.

• Well, there’s your first bit of titilation and violence. Time for a lengthy dialogue scene.

• And here’s another!

• “Hi, I’m you bit of fluff on the side!”

• ROMANTIC MONTAGE!

• Long dialogue scene!

• ROMANTIC MONTAGE!

• Okay, we’re back to the interview-by hypnosis bit. Time for another gratuitous sex-and-violence flashback?

• Nope. A pre-frenzy stalking sequence! Which goes on forever...

• Every time the woman stops, there’s insanely-loud footsteps behind her! My God, she’s being stalked by Gene Kelly!

• Hey lady, you’re on a well-lit main road. Stop panicing, already.

• Oh, thank God, she made it home. I’m sure she’ll be safe now!

• How the hell did he beat her inside?

One of my favourite sequences happens here, as the potential snuff victim dashes into her bathroom to escape, slamming the door behind her. And we can see this, because the camera is positioned far enough back to show both rooms on the obvious set they’re shooting on. Leading to the question “Why doesn’t he just walk around the wall and get her”? I refuse to believe that “pretend wall” technique ever looked convincing to anyone. Ever.

• No necro this time. Instead... it’s the old Ketchup-Bottle-Up-The-Clacker trick! Thankfully, implied.

• “Thanks for letting the audience see your boobs, Ms. Corpse.”

• Lt. Molock fires off the Line of the Night! To whit:

“Everytime something like this happens it makes the hairs on my ass stand up !”

(Quote possibly not accurate, as I was laughing too hard to make a note.)

Thank you, Lt Morlock. We salute you. Much hilarity was wrung out of that line for the rest of the night. In fact, I challenged most people to use a variation of the line at least once a week. At work, if possible. I’m thinking of starting my next comedy gig with “I’m so excited to be here that every hair on my ass is standing to attention!”.

• “Nice car, doc!”. Man, the Lt. is apparently blind!

• Oh, dear lord, it’s not a car. It’s a really crappy Transformer.

• I did love the fact that the cars’ self-lowering sunroof appears to land right on top of Kens noggin. I of course added a “BONK!’ sound effect to that.

• “We’re going sledding!”. Oh boy, I hope he has a Transforming Plastic Concept Sled!

• ROMANTIC SLEDDING MONTAGE!

• Look, I know it’s 1969, but could you two boink somewhere else? Kids might want to use this park, y’know.

• I’m still stunned they put the “pass the steak sauce” scene right after the “ketchup bottle in the love tunnel” scene. Some screenwriter was a sick puppy.

• Time for an out-of-left-field chat about The Manchurin Candidate. is it a good idea to mention a good film in your crappy one?

• So, having a scriptwriter steal an idea from a film is a “rip-off”. Having a character steal the idea from a film makes it a “homage”, right?

• Wait, is this a new Romantic Montage, or a contiuation of the last one?

• Seriously, the last Oscars ceremony didn’t have as many montages as this one.

• Oh, did I mention every montage has a drippy pop ballad with it?

• Dr. Ken plots to use Marco to bump off his wife, via subliminal messages! Meaning he’s basically just recorded a signed confession.

• Oh wait, he labelled the tape “Confidential”. He’s thought of everything!

• DREAM SEQUENCE!

• In fact, PYCHADELIC SIXTIES DREAM SEQUENCE!

• Okay, REALLY LONG PYCHADELIC SIXTIES DREAM SEQUENCE!

• “Hi, welcome to Mel’s Overacting Diner! I’ll be your comedy short-order cook!”

• Okay, if he’s not improvising that dialogue, I’m Julie Newmar.

• “Go to 1 (long pause) 2 (long pause) 3 (long pause) 0 (reallly long pause) Beacon Street. I’ll repeat that...” No don’t, the film will be over if you do.

• Hey Marco, nowhere in those instruction did Dr. Ken tell you to phone his wife and tell her you were coming to stab her.

• “My god, that young man is going to kill someone at 1...2...3...0 Bacon Street! How awful!”

• Four hours later, the little lightbulb lights up over Valeries head.

No, I’m not kidding about that. There’s a scene where Valerie literally picks up a letter, stares at her own address (3210 Beacon Street) and then... slowly scribbles out the “e”. Oh, my God! Bacon is Nilbog spelled backwards!

Oh, and the crowd went wild, of course.Best unitentional comedy moment of the show.

And so, having we come to the dramatic conclusion of the film! Drunken Harpy Wife has arranged for Nice-Girlfriend-On-The-Side to be at Bacon... Beacon Street when Marco shows up! Will Dr. Wife-Murderer make it home in the Bizzare-mobile in time to save her? Well, in the interests of non-spoilering I should...

Screw that, it’s too funny NOT to be spoiled. Marco and the Bit ‘O Fluff get into a furniture smashing brawl. She gets the upper hand by smashing things on his head. Then loses the advantage by sitting there and looking at him while he gets up again. (I figured she realised they’d got off on the wrong foot and wanted to apologise. After all, it’s never too late to make a good first opinion.) They tussle some more as we get repeated shots of the TV set they’re nearing. A TV set they fall on, smashing it to pieces.. and there they were.

Sparklers. Ordinary Guy Falwkes sparklers stuck into the remains of the set to simulate electrical discharges. So while the actors convulsed with “electric shocks”, the audience also convulsed. With laughter.

And so, it’s a tragic ending to a tragic(ly inept) film. Doubly tragic since they decided to finish with a Romantic Montage Flashback.

Things I Learned From This Film:
*U.S car design wasn’t at its peak in ‘69.
*Police stations are entirely staffed with idiots.
*When plotting to murder your wife, make sure you leave the damning evidence where she can easily find it. It’s too easy, otherwise.
*To make you film-making experience easy, just write random plot elements on darts and toss them at a wall. Whatever sticks in whatever order is your shooting script.

Collateral Damage?: That poor Sparklervision TV never stood a chance.
Frenetic Camera Work?: 60’s Pyschadelic Editing! Yay!
Big Beefy Guys?: The usual well-fed cops.
Exploding Cars?: If the Idiotic-Mobile had blown up, it would have been a mercy killing.
Chicks Not to Mess With?: I’d avoid cackling harpy wife, if I were you.
Product Placement!: Sony got a lot of extended shots of their state-of-the-art C60 audio cassettes, all right.

Hey, NEW THEME!

Character Under Severe Mental Torture?: Kill. Kill! Killlllll!

Skeeter’s Summary: Good Lord, what a chunk of shit this was. In all the right ways. Loved it.But why do my notes have the words “Flower sex” in there? I must be blocking that scene out.


Part 5: You Can Check In, But...
Saturday, 23:45-1408

New release number 2, and have to say that I was pretty stoked to see the title. I’d read the Stephen King short story a while back, and frankly I think it’s his scraiest pice of fiction in about 15 years. The names “John Cusak” and “Samuel L. Jackson” in the credits also perked me up. Could it be done? Could they film a feature-length adaption of a Stephen King short story without making a stinker? (cf. Children of the Corn, Graveyard Shift, Maximum Overdrive or pretty much every other Stephen King adaption in the last ten years?) Well, I hope you’re sitting down...

It doesn’t suck.

In fact, this was by far my favourite film of the night. It had the elements I love in a horror film. A genuinely creepy atmosphere, without the usual Hollywood reliance of spring-loaded cats and overly-loud jump scares. This was much more in the Japanese horror realm, where the eeeriness just slowly builds and builds until someone coughing in the row behind you can make you scream like a little girl. A claustrophobic feeling (ala Saw), enhanced by the majority of the film being set in just three small room. Some really dark humour, showing that the Evil Forces from Beyond not only want you dead, they really like to fuck with your mind, too. And of course one of the best elements in cinema today... Samuel L. Jackson playing... well, Samuel L. Jackson. He does of course get the best line in the flick.

Sure, it gets a little wobbly in the final 20 minutes or so. The double-twist ending is pretty obvious to anyone who’s seen at least one horror movie in their life. And the director decides to spend his big budget with some flash and splash, when perhaps just keeping it intimate and creepy would have worked just as well.

I was still in the cheap seats with Cherie during this flick, which really added to my enjoyment of the flick. Why? Because Cherie is not a huge horror fan... and was subsequently “security blanketing” during the flick. I swear she was practically trying to burrow under her blanket during the middle third of the film, and will probably shriek every time she hears a Carpenters song for the rest of her life. Annd during a scene in a heating duct when “something” is chasing our hero, she cracked me up with the plea “Not the Demon Baby! I can’t stand Demon Babies! *sigh* Oh good... it’s just a ghoul.”. I haven’t had so much fun watching a fellow movie-goers reactions to a film since seeing Arachnophobia many years ago... during school holidays. I thought the three 13-year-old girls one row over were going to deafen me.

Oh, have I told you anything about the plot yet? No?

Good.

Now you’ll have to see it yourself.

Things I Learned From This Movie:
*18 feet is a hell of a long way in Stephen Kings universe.

Collateral Damage?: Structural damage, crainial damage, pycholigal damage, you name it.
Frenetic Camera Work?: Surprisingly, only in small, logical doses. Huzzah!
Big Beefy Guys?: Not physically, but Samuel L. Jackson projects his usual big, beefy cool.
Exploding Cars?: Not this time.
Chicks Not to Mess With?: Room 1408 is an evil bitch, all right.
Product Placement!: Minor computer placement
Character Under Severe Mental Torture?: Hell, yes.

And a NEW THEME!

Suicide of a Major Character?: Multiple, several fatal. But not all.

Skeeters Summary: Wait a second! My personal favourite film of the night has no gratuitous female nudity whatsoever? Am I maturing or something?

Part 6: Colon Insert Witty Subtitle Here.
Sunday, 01:55-RESIDENT EVIL: EXTINCTION

Ooh, look! Gratuitous female nudity! In the first shot of the movie, no less! Woo-hoo! Sadly, that was pretty much the high point for the flick. Well, in fact the REAL high points of this block came before the film started, along with a lowlight. There was a trailer for Aliens vs. Predator: Requiem for a start, which just looks like a ridiculously stupid and ridiculously fun movie. With a stupid and nonsensical subtitle, to boot. The other two came from the Youtube reel that played between flicks.

The lowlight of the Youtube Reel? An instructional video on how to inflate your brand-new internal penis pump so as to achieve a healthy erection. I've heard of such anti-impotence devices before. I don't think I ever needed a demonstration. And trust me, neither do you.

The highlight was the compilation video of Mr. Profanabago. That's what I called him, anyway. He's an American Winnebago salesman who used to do his own adverts. The video.. his blooper reel. The kicker. His remarkable vocabulary of cuss words and his incredibly short temper. By the end of the clip, with his swearing edited into a machine-gun burst of profanity, the audience was in tears of laughter. And for one of the few times in Marathon history, a mid-movie filler clip that didn't stem from Wonder Showzen got a huge round of applause. Sir, I tip my hat to you. You filthy fucker.

A quick aside on trailers… earlier we were given the Statue of Liberty decapitating trailer for 18-1-08. A guy in the row ahead of me said “Good trailer”, then asked what it was for. I told him the movie didn’t have a name yet, and nobody knew a damn thing about it. His response was immediate. “Then it’s a GREAT trailer!” You see, Hollywood? Your paying audience still LIKES to be surprised occasionally. Look and learn, you overpaid marketing schmucks.

Anyway, back to the business at hand. The business of perving at a naked Mila Jojovich. Well, kind of naked. Damn wussbag directors these days. If you’ve got a female star with the body of Aphrodite and a relaxed European attitude to nudity, don’t pose her artistically, man! Stick her in a hot tub and let us get our moneys worth!

Whoa, I’m really sailing off-track in this one, huh? Okay, let’s regroup. Resident Evil: Extinction is of course the third movie in the RE series. I watched the first on DVD and thought it was okay. Nothing special, nothing too crappy. The only things that turned me off were the pathetic lack of decent gore effects and the worlds most annoying DVD commentary. Milas’ cute, but my God in heaven, never let her near a microphone ever again.

I never bothered with Resident Evil 2: Some Sort of Unwieldy Subtitle. I hoped it wouldn’t affect my enjoyment and understanding of this one. As you can imagine, it didn’t. Thanks in part to a helpful pre-credits narration and in a slightly larger part by a wafer-thin plot apparently carved off half a dozen other, better movies, I picked up the narrative thread pretty quickly. The main body of the film is a slightly less than well-concealed retread of Mad Max 2, set in the typical post-apocalyptic desert. This desert apparently sprang into being in five years, following the worldwide zombie plague. Yes, you read that right. All the humans die and stop consuming Earths’ precious resources, Earth immediately turns into a barren wasteland. Go figure.

If they could have at least shown a brief aerial shot of Brazil turning a lush, fertile green again, I wouldn’t have minded so much.

Meanwhile, deep in an underground bunker, safe from the zombies (sound familiar?) a group of scientists and military men (sound VERY familiar?) work to restore intelligence to the zombie horde. (Sound INCREDIBLY familiar, Bub?) Yes, we’re rehashing Day of the Dead as well. We’re eight minutes into the flick and I already hate anyone involved. The head scientist is of course somewhat mad, albeit in one of those calm, composed ways. Not only is he teaching zombies to use cellphones and cameras (PRODUCT PLACEMENT!), he’s also running multiple clones of Mila Jojovich (playing NAME) through Running Man-style mazes to perfect a curvaceous killing machine.

Of course, the real Alice is out in the desert, dressed like she’s raided the wardrobes of Lara Croft and the Autogiro Captain. She follows a radio signal to a run-down settlement, finding a woman crying over her baby. By this time I had returned to the front of the theatre with the Fallbacks, but as I was sure this was going to be a Zombie Baby, I steeled myself for Cherie’s shriek from the stalls. It wasn’t to be, as the “baby” turned out to be part of the most obvious ambush in post-apocalyptic history. Albeit one involving Alice getting thrown into a pit of Zombie Dogs. Cue the first big action sequence!

And yes, this was the action sequence I mentioned earlier. The one where I couldn’t work out what the hell happened. Talking this movie over at breakfast, the general consensus was that the Zombie Dog effects sucked, but seriously, how could anyone tell? There wasn’t a single shot that didn’t involve the camerawork and editing conspiring to give us more jerky jump-cuts than a late 60’s hippy freak-out scene.

In the end Alice prevails, of course. Hooray. Moving on, she encounters a plucky band of survivors, traveling across the wasteland in there tricked out armoured truck. And their armoured school bus. Yes, just like the one in Mad Max 2. Good guess. Here’s where we discovered a few things about the Zombie Apocalypse. In fact, let’s just cut to the chase and recap this film with a whole bunch of Things I Learned…

Things I Learned From This Film
*In the future gas and food are in short supply. Makeup and hair care products are in abundance.
*Everyone in the future will have access to a personal trainer.
*If your only real party trick is identifying canned foods by the sound they make when you shake them, you’ll be the most popular man in the Apocalypse.
*If your boss is a cold, calculating madman, never agree to get into the Tame Zombie cage. Until you’re sure they’re really, REALLY tame.
*Subtle product placement is bad. Real product placement involves a zoom shot and a logo taking up three-quarters of the screen.
*Zombies only eat human flesh out of boredom.
*Alice is such a crack shot with a bow she could make lamb kebabs at 500 paces.
*Cigarettes are also an endangered species. Apparently in five years the worlds tabacco supplies were wiped out by a band of roving marauders led by TV chef Anthony Bourdain.
*There are approximately 82,000 zombies with nothing better to do that stand around a fenced-off compound for weeks at a time.
*Unless it's not an aerial shot. In which case it's more like thirty extras baking in the hot sun.
*Every post-apocalyptic wagon train needs a token Australian. Because shooting films in Australia is cheap.
*Zombies will usually wait patiently to attack you, if it adds to the shock of the moment.
*Some movies still like to scare their audience with eardrum-bursting sound effects for no reason.
*Two guys with guns make a lousy SWAT team.
*Post-apocalyptic medics never check to see it the zombie you just iced managed to bite you.

(An aside. The moment one of the minor characters opened his mouth Fallback leaned over to me. "Comedy relief black guy! How long do you think he'll last?" "Forty-five minutes at the outside." I replied confidently. That was at 02:05. He had his head blown off at 02:48. Damn, I'm good.)

*Alice is trained in so many different weapons she could probably kill you with a strand of dental floss.
*Alice can apparently also defy the laws of gravity.
*Your movie can have as gigantic an underground base as you want, if you don't actually have to show more than a CGI wire frame of it.
*PRODUCT PLACEMENT!
*MOVIE RIP-OFF!
*Paging Mr. Hitchcock!
*Ooh, Zombie Crows! This could be great... if only the zombie crows didn't look so incredibly shitty.
*To avoid death by 5,000,000 circling Zombie Crows, stand in the open and fire a handgun at them. That'll work.
*The movie could have been improved if there was a typo in the script and the group had been attacked by Zombie Cows instead.
*Post-apocalyptic survivors will always try to save two people, even if it means six people get wasted in the attempt.
*There's never such a things as "too many" CGI Zombie Crows.
*Flamethrowers on armoured trucks are good idea. Flamethrowers with some sort of anti-crow protection would have been a better idea.
*Even a crappy CGI fest becomes slightly better if you hear the Wilhelm Scream. (About time... I've been waiting six Marathons for that.)
*Kids never, EVER become collateral damage in movies too wussy to show full-frontal nudity.
*In the third film of a trilogy, there's no need to explain your lead characters unexpected psionic powers.
*"I'm called K-Mart!" MAJOR PRODUCT PLACEMENT!

(Aside number 2: She was called K-Mart because that's where they found her. "Lucky she wasn't found at a Hooters", I quipped. I've since discovered that about 9000 other people have made that joke on the internet. I don't care, I still thought it was funny.)

*Two days after watching a movie like Resident Evil: Extinction, you can actually forget huge chunks of what happened.

(Ummm. Hang on a second. It'll come to me. Let's see, there was some plotline about going to Alaska, the last place with no zombies. Presumably they were eaten by Bigfoot. See Movie 11. Then the creepy little computerised girl showed up. And there was that weird scene with the floating rocks. Or was that earlier? Umm. Stuff happened. Fallback advised me against trying to write down the stupidest bits of dialogue, possibly for fear of me getting the worlds first case of Terminal Writers Cramp. More things happened. And then the Mad Max Gang headed to Vegas for gas and blackjack and hookers. On second thoughts, forget the gas. Oh, right.. the big Vegas Super Zombie Rumble! What do I remember from that?)

*Having a limited supply of gasoline means only taking you gargantuan helicopter out once a week or so.
*Tourism was the only thing keeping Vegas from being swallowed by the desert sands inside a week. (I guess you can only go gambling at The Dunes now. *rimshot*).
*Apparently someone stole the Stratosphere Hotel soon after the Zombie Holocaust. You'd think a 350m tall tower would still be sticking up out of even the BIGGEST sand dune.
*There are no gas stations in Las Vegas. Everyone is forced to drive 8 miles down the strip to a casino when they want to fill up.
*You need to be a ultra-human killing machine like Alice to realise that a massive shipping crate on the Vegas strip is slightly suspicious.
*You can fit 8-10 thousand zombies into one shipping crate. (Seriously, those bastards just kept pouring on out of there. At the breakfast break we came to the conclusion that wasn't a crate, it was a Zombie Clown Car.)
*Russell "Highlander" Mulcahy may have directed this film, but Uwe "House of the Dead" Boll must have had a hand in this insane zombie massacre sequence.
*Kids still manage to avoid getting eaten when 9 bazillion zombies wipe out fully armed adults.
*Five years of the Zombie Apocalypse may turn continents into dustbowls, but unmaintained satellites will still function perfectly.
*Comic Relief Guys make lousy zombies.
*Hot chicks armed with twin Ghurkha knives are somehow even hotter than usual.
*Never piss off a hot chick armed with twin Ghurkha knives.
*OD'ing on Zombie Anti-Venom is bad, mm-kay?
*If an untested formula gives you the unexpected side effect of being able to use your fingers like huge rubbery tentacles, you will instinctively know how to employ them as weapons.
*The scene from Mad Max 2 where Mel Gibson runs the gauntlet of The Humongous's gang in the tanker truck would not have improved if the gang was comprised of zombies.
*Smoking will still kill you in the future.
*Massive CGI explosions in big-budget pictures (i.e. The Kingdom) and more modestly-budgeted fare (i.e. this one) both look equally fake. Can't we just blow shit up like they did in the 70's and 80's?
*If your plan involves stealing a helicopter, at no stage should you check to see if anyone can actually FLY said helicopter. Someone will always have the requisite skills, even if they used to be a librarian or something.
*Zombies move more slowly if you're having a tearful parting with someone.
*Evil scientists have the entrance to their underground bases designed by Gerry and Sylvia Anderson.
*It's not a good zombie flick until someone is running around in a darkened corridor. This also works for giant snake flicks or any film that stars Eric Roberts.
*A fight scene between a mutant Zombie Scientist and a psionic chick can actually be cooler looking than a fight with Zombie Rottweilers.
*It can also be ludicrous, while still being quite cool.
*Two Mila Jojovich'es are better than one. Doubly so if one is naked.
*It's okay to bump off your bad guy in the same way employed by the makers of Cube a decade or so earlier.
*If there's any justice in the world, the next film will just be 300 naked Mila Jojovich'es kung-fu fighting zombies for a hour and a half. I'll buy a ticket.

Collateral Damage?: If zombies count, hundreds.
Frenetic Camera Work?: Oh, fuck yes.
Big Beefy Guys?: Not a one. Just perfect post-apocalyptic physiques. This theme might be running out of steam.
Exploding Cars?: Exploding truck good enough for you?.
Chicks not to Mess With?: I think the review makes that patently obvious.
Product Placement!: Oh, fuck yes.
Character Under Severe Mental Torture?: No, but several of the audience seemed to be.
Suicide of a Major Character?: More like multiple homicide of a major character. Plus some pointlessly noble sacrifices of minor ones.


Skeeters Summary: Well, that was a pretty sarcastic re-cap. I must have hated it right? Actually, not really. Many people did. Others liked it. (Most notably Cherie and the Red-Haired Zombie Flick Chick) Despite my initial flashbacks to Anacondas, I thought it was pretty average. But then again, it was the third Resident Evil film. What were you expecting? I expected zombies, unrealistic fight scenes, gory headshots, a touch of bare skin, some stupid characters and a lot of idiotic dialogue. On that basis, I think it delivered on all counts.

Or: The Lost Geekend

V Minus 8 Days and Counting

It was that time of the year again. Y'know, a couple of days after the International Film Festival had ended, and I had started semi-regular checks of moviemarathon.co.nz for word on the 2007 show. Nothing, nothing, still nothing. Oh well, nothing to worry about. Ant was overseas, binging on Film Festivals, and the Marathon wouldn't be until late october, early November, right? And then I noticed that some of the guys on the 48 Hours film board seemed to have inside knowledge on the upcoming event. I checked the blog. Still nothing. I checked again a few days later. Still nothing. Finally I sent Steelpotato a "please explain" e-mail and was sent an invite to...

Facebook.

Eek.

I've never liked social networking sites. I consider Myspace to be the work of the Devil. (Let's face it, with user-designed pages full of flashing gifs, embedded music and enough pictures to invariably (and instantly) crash my browser, it was nothing more than Geocities for the new millenium.) Never had a need to social network, never wanted to. But, if needs must...

And so I created a Facebook account. I felt dirty.

For about 24 hours. Then of course spent three days installing applications to send virtual drinks to friends, indicate my mood with smileys and display humorously-captioned cat macros. Sue me, I can't help loving an amusing cat picture. (With the bonus of not having to find them on imageboards filled with badly-drawn Dora the Explorer porn.)

Anyhoo, the Facebook link led me to an Event page for the ‘Thon. Which was scheduled not for October, but for the end of September. My Nerdtosterone levels immediatley rose to critical levels. The earlier-than-usual date has led Doug “Fallback” Dillaman to speculate that we might just be getting a sneak preview of The Devil Dared Me To as one of the “new-school” flicks this year. Will history prove him right? Read on and find out!

The date wasn’t the only thing that had been made earlier, as this year the first film is set to go at 4PM. (In fact, it was originally slated to be 3PM. I expect people to be in line by 2:30 or so.) The early start is probably good for people who work early on Monday, giving them plenty of shut-eye time afterwards. I was worried that I might have to come home, grab a few hours naptime and then get up for the NRL Grand Final, but the Warriors helped out by getting their asses handed to them by the Cowboys last wekend. See you next season, guys. I’m not sure wether the ealry start means a dinner break, or  really long haul to breakfast. I’ll be packing the protein-laden snacks, though. (And probably taking a 3AM pie-run to the local service station.)

My working life took a distinct turn this year, as I ditched full-time employment for a variety of part-time jobs instead. In fact, FOUR part-time jobs. (A wine-store, a cellar door position at Matua Valley wines, one day in the Skytowers gift shop and a handful of short shifts as the Classic Comedy Club’s ticket guy. Or “The Box Officer” as the bar staff dubbed me recently.) This has resulted in a couple of things. Firstly, a drastic reduction in the amount of work-related stress I was suffering from. Only one day of working with tourists? I’ll take it! Secondly, no days off. Oddly, I have no problems with this, as I’m working seven relaxed shifts in jobs I enjoy. Besides, I call Wednesday and Friday my “days off” as I don’t start work until 7PM at the club. And then it’s maybe an hours full-on work, an hours cruising between shows, and an hour drinking with the comedians and barstaff. No, you may not have my job.

Not to mention the fact I’m getting a lot more gigs on-stage, including a few paid spots when comedians fail to show up. Just call me the Comedy ringer, folks! Subsequently, my motivation levels have skyrocketed, my delivery has improved and my jokes are still funny about 80% of the time. I’ll work on that last 20% next year. The only downside was having to ditch two jobs in one weekend, with no annual leave. So, I’ll budget the hell out of this weeks pay, I guess. (Or eat peanut butter sandwiches for three days.)

And so the usual round of e-mailing people has begun. Sadly, the show falls on the same weeked as a pirate-themed wedding some of the usual suspects have been invited to. Cherie still intends attending, but probably won’t show up until after 11pm. The couples of Mandos/Jill and Tania/Leon have procreated in the last few years, probably taking them out of the equation until such time as the Marathon has a 24-hour creche. Definite regular attend-ees this year include Fallback, the recently-moved-up-from-Christchurch Steve “Raven” Austin, Craig Parkes and Dve  "Steelpotato" Brough. (I’m assuming Craig II, aka “Boxdog”  is showing up, too.) Whether the 48 hours crew will just form one large, nerdy group or whether I’ll be all over the Hollywood as usual remains to be seen.

Sadly, a fortnight out from the show, Ant was forced to cancel the Wellington Marathon. My sympathies to the Cult Movie fans in our nations capital.

My own preperations kicked off early this year. I decided against a custom t-shirt this year, as my shirt-designing friend Grant has moved. To Scotland. Maybe he can send me a custom kilt for next year. The semi-offical V Movie Marathon Mix is ready. In fact, six months after the ‘06 show I had already collected enough soundtracks to compile a “trial” CD. A little tweaking over then next few months left me with a disc I was happy with. (Proving once and for all that I spend WAY too much time thinking about these things.) I was ecstatic to discover a soundtrack blog that had posted not only the Troll 2 end credits music, but also the pointless musical number from Lady Terminator. The disc ended up a 30-track mix, including a selection of Radio Spots collected off the ‘net. This led to my favourite transition, a radio advert for The Black Streetfighter followed by “You’re the Best!” from The Karate Kid. I’ve burnt 20 copies, which are now stacked in my study.

Fallback became an early recipient of the Mix after we held a “warm-Up” Skeeter Double Feature last week. Myself and three of the Bad Movie Crew ran through the perfect match of Bride of the Monster and For Your Height Only, along with a cartoon and a serial episode. (We’re 7/15ths of the way through Batman and Robin, featuring a slightly chunky caped Crusader and his way-too-old-to-be-a Boy Wonder sidekick. Campy fistfights have abounded so far.)

Speaking of camp, Ant put out his usual call for Youtube-styled compilation discs from the regulars. Being generally tech-clueless, I had no idea how to do this. However, an e-mail came through soon after from Steelpotato. A bunch of links posted back later, and hopefully the 2007 V will be graced with the presence of Bohemian Rhapsody in Lego and the sheer Finnish brilliance of Bat and Ryyd.

V Minus 4 Days and Counting

It’s been brought up on Facebook that Daylight Savings Time kicks in at 2am on the Sunday. Meaning the marathon will either run 23 hours, or 24 but appear to be 25. (Much like how Psychout to Murder was 88 minutes long but felt like a week and a half.) I’m awaiting confirmation from Ant, as the last thing  want to do after 36 hour of non-sleep is make my wife wait an hour for me to emerge. Sleep deprivation would probably make me come off second-best in the ensuing domestic.

V Minus 2 Days and Counting

Ant has confirmed the Marathons 5pm finish time. Excellent. I've been readying myself for the day by re-watching a bunch of genre flicks and previously screened Marathon flicks. (Including An American Werewolf in London and all three Saw films... yes, including the stop-beating-the-dead-pony third one.)  I also helped keep Dawns sanity with a double-feature of The Princess Bride and Labrynth. Ahh, the days when family entertainment could involve swordfights, Christopher Guest bleeding from stab-wounds and David Bowie in ballet tights. Dear God, it's tough to watch that movie these days without noticing the repeated cameos by Dave's Unconstrained Trouser-Eel.

With just three days to go, Ant announced a last-minute competition. To enter you had to create a 3-5 panel cartoon based around the 'Thon. (With a plug of the sponsers product, of course.) The one and only prize? A giant "V" beanbag and lifetime free entry to the show. I debated on whether or not to enter at first. After all, I have the artistic ability of a colourblind mudcrab, and besides, Ant is still comping me entry so long as I fire off these insanely long reviews. (On delivery of  last years 22,000-word affair, he asked if he should read it or wait until the mini-series was made.) Eventually, I went for it. Firing up MS-Paint, the only choice for the artistically incompetant, I... well, doodled away for ten minutes until my total ineptitude at making a stick figure put his hands on his hips made me erase the whole thing in disgust.

A few hours later, I fired up Photoshop instead, dragged and dropped a couple of stills from Marathon-screened flicks, mucked around with shillouettes of people and created the following: (Click it a few times to see the big version.)



I'm not expecting to win.

(Future Skeeter: I didn't.)

V Day!

Prologue: Well Fancy Seeing YOU Here! Again.

Saturday, the 29th of September. V Day '07 was a pretty nice day, if a little cooler than the last few years, thanks mainly to the earlier date, of course. In fact, the colder conditions during the early morning hours made me wish I'd taken a sweatshirt along.  I rolled out of bed about half-past ten and spent the morning being domestic. Dawn had invited her best friend over for a "Girls Night In" of chick flicks and antipasto, so I helped tidy up a little before getting my bag packed. I actually restrained myself this year, packing the lightest load since the pillow-and-two-packs-of-munchies bag of 2003. Foodwise, I ditched the Eski of Discounted Snacks for the Mini Cooler Bag of Midnight Picnic Nibbles. Between the cooler bag and my backpack I was carrying the following:

1 family bag of Pascalls Party Mix
1 pack Sunbeam dried pineapple Fruit Bites
1 single Spiced Apple Cereal Bar
1 10-pack Little Rippers mild salami sticks
A small container of chedder cheese chunks.
2 fresh bread rolls
1 chocolate donute (with sprinkles!) that I didn't get time to eat at lunch.
1x14-pack of Wrigleys Extra Sweet Mint chewing gum.
1 rollpack Fruit-flavoured Mylanta rolltabs
2 frozen waterbottles.

1 pair of tracksuit pants
My torch, fully charged this year.
Notebook, and 2 pens.

And for the first time:

My video camera.

Yep, I decided to get a little footage for posterity. In the end, it wasn't a lot... just Ant's intros, a couple of between-marathon clips, the major prize draw and a brief status check of the Marathon-ers at breakfast. And the typical shot of my crotch when I put the camera down without switching it off first. I also assembled 19 copies of the mixtape CD, having gievn Fallbackthe 20th at BMA 7. After my last hot meal for 15 hours or so, we hit the road at about a quarter after two. By 25 to three, I was in Avondale, and was hardly surprised to see at least half a dozen people already outside the theatre. Dawn dropped me off with a "Go get it out of your system for the year." and I headed over to find Boxdog and his group up near the head of the queue. A number of other familiar faces were there too, and in quick order we were joined by Steelpotato, Raven, Andrew Todd and the Fallbacks. (I was able to determine this year that Dougs' partner is called Annette, and even noted it down to avoid the "Ms. Fallback" handle I used a few years back.) I hooked up with Ant, who said he was already pretty tired, due in no small part to the last frantic ten days of organisation I would asume. Still, I'll give him his dues... at no stage did I see him taking a nap this year. Which, I have to admit, is more than I can say for myself.

I took a stroll down the road to buy a new notebook, having filled up last years one with scribbled notes and questions. I got the official Avondale welcome, too. Namely, a long stare from a scruffy-looking quasi-looney at a bus-stop. As previously mention, as much as I love the Hollywood, Avondale isn't one of my favourite suburbs. Guys like him are the reason why. On returning to the theatre, I handed out CDs to the Bad Movie/48 Hours Film Board crews. I also gave them to the first guys in line, Ant, Thomas the serious Film Fan, the Hollywoods owner and random marathon-eers. I'd given away the last one by the end of the second flick. Sorry to anyone who missed out, but my funds are always limited these days.

The Beanbag Army (Made up of those people who made obsessivly-early registrations) were the first in the door. Predictable, this was mainly comprised of the 48 Hours/Facebook posters. We’re nothing if not predictable. Raven and Dave Brough’s groups filled the center of the theatre. (Yes, sprawled at the right hand and feet of Ant. Suck-ups.) Fallback, Boxdog and I took my traditional spot to the front right of the stage, which features both floor and seating. At my insistance, mainly because I hadn’t even brought a pillow along, figuring any attempt at comfort might make me fall asleep and shorten this thesis. Review. I meant review. As is also traditional, I spent the day watching flicks from no less than 3 different locations in the theatre. I managed to avoid stepping on anyone this year, at least.

The pre-game show was a reel of grindhouse trailers, providing us with the earliest full-frontal nudity to date... at least 30 minutes before the official start-time. Thanks, Ginger. A collection of Youtube-esque type weirdness also played, giving us the most gratuitous toplessness of any movie ever. (The insane “Slow-mo topless tennis” scene from Challenge of the Tiger.) To avoid being singled out as some sort of breast-identifying pervert, Fallback was the one who knew the scene. Because he owns the flick. It’s already penciled in for a Bad Movie Afternoon.

To up the class level we were also shown an entrie French animation entitled “Dog Days”. It wasn’t hilarious, but it was cute. Sadly, the time we were watching that would normally have been Wurlitzer Time. Apparently the organ jockeys were in Australia this week, thus depriving us of the musicial intro to the show. Well, there’s always next year.

Finally, at ten past 4, Ant took to the stage, along with his extremely enthusiastic co-host. (Who I believe was called Jeff, although I may have that wrong.) Impressively, he defied all expectations by remaining hyperactively enthusiastic 24 hours later. Whatever he’s on, I want some for next year. Ant did the usual thank yous, and I made good on my promise from last years review. While not actually having to invade the stage, I got Jeff to publicly thank Ant for his tireless (and tiring) work organizing this affair year after year. This year sounded like harder work than most, with five films being pulled late in the lead-up. Thus explaining why there was none of the “funkalicious kung-fu” we’d been promised. (I was hoping for The Black Street Fighter.) He’d even considered canceling the Auckland show along with Wellington. And have 200+ person nerd-herd on his doorstep with kicked puppy-dog looks on their faces? I think he made the right call.

And so, at 4:17 on Saturday afternoon, the lights dimmed, the curtain opened… and we were off once more!

Part 1: Never Trust a Hot Chick!
Saturday, 16:17-KITTEN WITH A WHIP

Ant intro’ed this film as an “unusual” choice for the ‘Thon, but with one of the hottest actresses of all time. I agree on the second point. The title popped the crowd big-time, sounding as lurid and sleazy as oh, I don’t know, Confessions of a Young American Housewife, perhaps. But what followed was Ann-Margret and John Forsyth starring  in a film noir/JD’s gone wild/psychological thriller/genre-defying 1964 flick. And yes, Ann-Margret was a hottie in ’64. (In fact, several Marathoners insist she still is.) But unusual? Not really. Because despite its vintage, this one hit all the right buttons for an opener. It established Running Themes, it had some cracking dialogue, was perfectly paced, and as noted, had some serious eye-candy.

I’ll avoid giving away too much plot, although I’m not sure it’s possible to give plot spoilers for a forty-three year old film. But basically it’s the story of a David, a potential candidate for the U.S Senate who makes the worst mistake of his life when he finds Jody, a seventeen-year-old runaway in his daughters bed. No, not sleeping with her, you perv. That’s not Kitten With a Whip, that’s an all-too-familiar headline on CNN these days. (Besides, I get the feeling David is a Democrat.) His mistake is trying to help out the youngster… a girl we watched in the opening scene fleeing not from the abusive stepfather as she claimed… but from the police.

Yep, it’s Poison Ivy, circa 1964, only well-written and without a former child sitcom actress getting her goodies out for the camera. You can’t help but feel for David, clinging desperately to a rocky marriage, trying to get out of the situation he’s been thrown into with both his political and personal life intact. And every step of the way, things keep getting more and more complicated until you can see that things are going to end badly for all concerned.

For instance, early in the film David goes out to buy clothes for Jody, who he still thinks is a runaway. BOOM, he runs into a close personal friend who knows for a fact that his wife isn’t a size 8. He manages to drop off Jody at the bus-station, and WHAM, she’s back in his house like the proverbial bad penny… right before friends show up at the door. Things spiral out of control as Jody invites a trio of her hoodlum friends over for a “party-party”.  Since her friends include an Midge (an airhead), Buddy (a short-tempered lummox) and Ron (a kind of Zen Beatnik), it’s one of those parties that ends up with someone either getting falling-down drunk or knocked-on-his-ass punched. In this case, it’s a little of column A, a little of column B. (It also leads to the most uses of the word “Buddy” in a motion picture. Except for a bio-pic of Buddy Holly.)

The final act plays out in scenic Tijuana, where pretty much everything that could go wrong does, leading to an unexpectedly frantic fight-scene and a satisfying finsh. (The fight scene, shot in a sped-up, almost hand-cranked looking way have several of my group thinking the V must have kicked in early this year.)

Man, that’s the crappiest plot summary since my review of Saw. But trust me, I couldn’t do it justice if I tried, 48 hours later. (Or 16 hours later, either… marathons mess with you for days afterwards, especially when you watch… well, let’s call it “Movie Ten” for the time being.) But it’s a great watch. The performances are uniformly excellent, with John Forsyths’ a standout for me. His character is just a really nice guy in a really shitty situation, and you’re really pulling for him to come out on top. Ann-Margret manages to switch between dewy-eyed innocence and whiskey-throwing sociopath at will, and the supporting cast account for themselves well. Ron was my personal favourite character of the night, a smug, too-cool-for-school kind of guy who gets pretty much all the best lines. His plantative moan after getting accidently stabbed (Told you) of “I’m bleeding booze!” was a highlight.

There’s also some genuine humor in there, too. On accidentally encountering a valuable political contact in Tijuana, David tries to avoid a beat-up vengeful Buck by dragging them into a tavern. “You must see the floorshow here!” he says. Cut to the group uncomfortably watching the strip show that’s taking place. Davids explanatory line of “They must have changed the program since I was last here… they had a flamenco dancing group last time.” nearly killed me.

True, the film was a little dated at times, with the hep-cat slang and the audience-amusing rear projection chase scene. (Doubly so with Ron’s stoned-as-a-ferret facial expressions.) But I liked it a lot.

“Unusual start”? Nah. Unusual would be Ant telling us we’re about to see his favourite film ever, then sitting through Little Nicky. Excellent start.


On to the Things I Learned and Running Themes, which evolved a lot through the night.

Things I Learned From This Film:
*Marijuana is illegal in Tijuana. Really, it is!
*Everyone in Mexico wants to sell you something.
*Watching a fully-clothed Ann-Margret dance is more erotic than watching any five Joe Sarno films you could name.

Collateral Damage?: Ron became an early victim of “Friendly Slash”.
Frenetic Camera Work?: That remarkable fight scene qualified.
Big Beefy Guys?: Hey, Buddy! You work out?
Exploding Cars?: [SPOILER!} Uh, yes, it does. [/END SPOILER]
A Chick Not to Mess With?: More like THE chick you don’t want to mess with.
Product Placement!: I did spot a giant sign for Schlitz beer in Tijuana, but it may have been a coincidence.

Skeeters Summary: Dear Hollywood. Please don’t try to re-make this. Or I’ll hurt you. Great film.

Man vs. Machine. Seemed a simple enough premise for a review roundtable. And so I trekked to the video store, intent on picking up Stephen Kings' ill-fated foray into the directors chair, Maximum Overdrive. I was to be denied, of course... the tape had been added to the $4.95 Ex-Rental Sale table and sold off to some Movie Masochist. (There's a another one in my suburb? We should meet for coffee and DTV crap sometime...) And so, I checked out the sci-fi shelves. I contemplated, then rejected a video box which promised "In the future, the machines rule!" as the back didn't appear to mention machines in any way shape or form... Although any film starring Frank Stallone and Joe Estevez and featuring post-apocalyptic roller-bladers (The Rollerblade Seven) is probably worth a watch. I considered a "Spaceship struck by computer virus on a collision course with Earth" film... but as it starred Sandra Bernhardt(!!), I gave it a miss.

Finally, I thought I found the perfect choice. The tagline... "Warrior vs. Cyborg... In the futuristic showdown to end them all!". Hmm, reading the back of the box, I learnt I'd be watching a young warrior battle rebel cyborgs that feed on human blood. It was definitely (Wo)Man vs. Machine. I grabbed it. Later, I realized I should have read the box more carefully... namely the words "From the director of Cyborg and Kickboxer 2".

Oh, good God.

I just hired an Albert Pyun movie.

Wish me luck...

KNIGHTS (1992)
(Or possibly '93, according to the IMDB.)

Preview Time!: We're off and running with the most naked rip-off of Die Hard I've ever seen. Bad guys being taunted by the hero on walkie-talkies, explosions in lift shafts, the whole nine yards. Jeff Wincott stars in Open Fire. Bleeh. Next a super-brief promo for a "True Story" thriller, Terror in the Night, starring Justine Bateman. (!) Next.. Hey, Chuck Norris! In a comedy. Kind of. Make that a Karate Kid clone called Sidekicks. I'll take a pass. More chop-socky action with the next preview... and there's Eric Roberts! Wondered when he'd show up... Best of the Best 2, huh? Looks pretty lame. An actual, honest-to-God, released-in-theaters film is up next. Too bad it's The Good Son, starring the Evil Macauly Culkin and... Elijah Wood! (With those huge eyes, shouldn't HE have been the psycho kid?). The previews try to one-up themselves with a Good Son rip-off, The Paperboy. (Starring Alexandra Paul and William Katt.) Bonus points for the uber-cheesy tagline... "He's Bad News!". And finally Mrs. Doubtfire... which is hardly a surprise, as that trailer was on 99.75% of all video tapes from the moment the film was released.

Kings Road Entertainment: Well, we're off and running now! To mis-quote MST3K... 'They're promising us entertainment, but frankly I have my doubts.". The films soundtrack kicks off with that godsend for low-budget movie-makers, the synthesizer theme. (It's nice to be able to hire one man to play all the music for the flick... in this case, "Tony Riparetti". Yo, Tony... ahhh, fuggeddaboudit!)

Butt-Ugly Desert!: We fade up on the typical Post-Apocalyptic landscape... as played by Utah. To be fair to Utah, I'm sure it's a nice, scenic desert in real life. But throughout the film, the landscape gets filmed in such a way as to make it the least attractive patch of dirt possible. (Mainly by the use of coloured filters to give that whole "War-torn wasteland" feel... Which would be fine if Albert stayed consistent. But more on that later.) Meanwhile, we get a helpful Expository Voice-Over from our heroine.

"It was another age.... another place. Here, time had long emptied the world, and in it's place, came the cyborgs. Powerful, invincible... and we humans became the victims of their hunger."

Where to start? Another age, and another place, huh? From what perspective is she talking about this? If it's her story, it'd be HER age and place, surely? Next, time had apparently emptied the world (And yep, that's all the explanation we get for the post-apocalyptic nature of things.) and THEN the cyborgs arrived? Who built them? With what technology, seeing as how the apocalypse already occurred? And, wouldn't "Powerful" and "Invincible"pretty much equate to the same thing in the end? Whatever, let's move on.

Sepia-tones! The Metal Monk: Cue the Flashback as we check out our heroines childhood. Seems her family was traveling with some "farmers"... what were they farming, rocks? And then, riding out of the shadows arrive... well, a bunch of guys in faux-Arabic robes. Yep, there's nothing scarier than men in burquas! They're led by Lance Henriksen, who we later (Much, MUCH later) discover to be named "Job". Job is obviously the leader, as he's the only guy with visible cybernetic parts. Namely, a stonking great cybernetic arm. Which proves to come in useful for... well, bugger all, really. He politely asks the farmers to either join their army, or throw down their weapons and die so his cyber-goons can feed. While the farmers ponder their choice, we meet Nea, our soon-to-be leading lady, as a scruffy young girl. Her mother gives Nea her baby brother (PLOT POINT!) and tells her to...

RUN!: At which point, she kind of wanders away. "Running" involves a little more speed than that, Nea. (In fact how did she manage to escape, seeing as she appears to be in full view of the cyborgs the whole time?) Perhaps they were distracted by...

Micheal Jackson, Traitor!: Sure, this curly-haired dude doesn't LOOK like M.J...but when he opens his mouth to become a Cyborg Army Volunteer... high-pitched perfection! Job wants a demonstration of MJ's loyalty, of course... by helping to herd up the "Pumpkin-heads". (His phrase, not mine.) Where the heck did THAT expression come from? I mean, it's a war-blasted desert landscape... what's the chance he's even SEEN a pumpkin? All hell breaks loose... possibly. (In fact, make that "All hell is implied to break loose"... And if it does, we never get to see it.)

Cheap-ass Massacre!: As we abruptly cut to the aftermath of the battle. Cyborgs win! Cyborgs win! There's a close-up shot of the baby boys wrist at this stage... ooh, a crescent-shaped birthmark! (PLOT POINT!)

KNIGHTS!: After the credits, we meet some more farmers. Maybe the film should have been called 'FARMERS!"? These farmers have some expository dialogue to spout, turning the scene into a meeting of...

Bad Actors' Anonymous!: Okay, everyone pick a silly accent and have fun! Irish Guy, roll the "r"s some more. Wolfman, over-act more! Grown-Up Nea makes her appearance here... She's played by Kathy Long, who has Chyna-like arms on the video box. Man, if she's half the actress Chyna is... we'll, that's nigh-near impossible without inventing Quantum Bad Acting.

The Batty Medium: Nea gets some advice from this cackling old biddy. She's destined for greatness! So long as they mean, "Great at arm-wrestling", she's got a shot. So we don't forget who the cyborgs are, we check out what they've achieved in the last decade.

Army of 20?: Not a lot, as it turns out. In fact, there's just 20 of them left. Not that this has stopped them maintaining their human army, or explains why they need "...the blood of 10, 000 humans!". Seems excessive, if you ask me. Oddly, despite roughly 40% of the entire Cyborg Army sitting in the same tent, Job decides not to pass on this information verbally. Instead he uses a Telepathic Rotating Adult Pleasure Device to do the job. (Not to "Do the Job", though... that would be perverted.) He also demonstrates his strangest character trait here... spitting out a mouthful of water whenever he gets worked up. Our villain's a compulsive drooler? Terrifying. Outside the tent, Job and a couple of other cyborgs have a brief philosophical conversation.

Cybor---ing!: Okay, not nearly brief enough. Guys, I don't care if you're alive or not. Make with the killing and mayhem already!

Suck down a warm one!: That's better... Job whips out his Spiky Needles of Death to suck the blood of a random human. Now, if the cyborgs live on human blood, shouldn't they ALL have honking great cybernetic arms with needles attached? Oh well, it's a low-budget universe, I suppose.

Abu to the rescue!: The unwilling blood donor is kind-of saved by a young boy (PLOT POINT!) dressed like a grade-school Aladdin. (I say "kind-of", because he acts like he's dead anyway. Too little, too late kid...) Job contemplates offing the kid, but decides he likes the kids "Moxie". Man, who activated his Cliché Circuits? The kid drags off his buddy as Job lays out his battle plan. He uses the phrase "Terminate us" at this stage. Penalty Flag! Referencing a better movie! Five yards, repeat first down!

Afternoon for night?: The heavy blue filter gets a workout as Job divides his forces (All 20 of them) to attack two settlements at once. Yep, there's a plan... and so the...

Ten Man Army?: ...Rides into battle. Well, ride into a shanty town to knock out our Heroine, then make the same feeble demands Jobs been making for a decade, actually. One of the humans shows some moxie (See, I can do it too!), throwing his...

Bouncy Spear!: "Ha, I am a Cyborg! Your spear bounces off me like it was rubber! Oh, wait... it IS rubber!"

Low-Budget Mayhem!: And so a mild rumble breaks out. Oh, the excitement. The cyborgs are under orders to...

Bring 'em back alive... oh, bugger.: But when Jobs' second-in-command (Eventually named "Simon") rides in, he finds all the humans have been slaughtered by his...

Hench-stupids: Including one who, on seeing Nea trying to flee, fires an arrow into her, then "co medically" mumbles "Sorry"... Oh, my aching sides. No, I'm wrong, this film is a pain in my ass, not my sides. Simon is none too pleased, as evidenced by the fact he screams the end of EVERY LINE! Yep, kind of LIKE THIS! Neas' only wounded by the arrow, though, allowing Simon to corner her in a lean-to and kill her, thus ending the movie. What? Oh, damn, I was projecting my wishes onto the screen again... what he actually does is corner her, then waste time making mincing threats. In fact, he wastes so much time he's eventually interrupted by...

Kristofferson of Arabia!: Although taking a second look at his outfit, which includes a brown, hooded robe, I'm guessing we were meant to get more of an Obi-Wan Ken-obi vibe. He's quickly revealed as being the..

Kristerminator!: Yep, old Kris is a Cyborg, too! A cyborg designed to kill other cyborgs. Penalty Flag! Stealing the premise of "Terminator 2", released a year before this was made! Ten Yards, still second down! Kris and Screamin' Simon face off, exchanging some expository dialogue. (There's a ton of exposition for this film, despite the plot being simple enough to fit on a matchbook cover.) Kris's character continues the biblical motif, of course.

Gabriel, Deus ex Cyborgia: He trades bon mots with Simon, who initiates his Bitchy Chip. And the fight begins! Suffice it to say, it doesn't erase memories of the lightsaber duels from the Star Wars movies, although is does suddenly get a HUGE Penalty Flag!

The Princess Bride?: They are SO ripping-off the Cliffs of Insanity duel! Right down to the "witticisms" (Which aren't witty) they trade between blows. A strange aspect of Cyborg warfare comes in here... the fact that any blow can make them fly forty feet in the air and execute a triple twisting somersault on the way.

Bouncy Castle Rumble?: I'm not kidding! It's like they stumbled across an unemployed troupe of circus acrobats and offered them a part in the film! Much flipping and flopping later, Simon calls for a...

Timeout! Eyeball on the field!: Yo, Gabe... You just ripped his eye out. Don't stand there and look at him while he replaces it... seize the advantage, dude. *sigh* Fine, stand there like a dummy, then. More brawling later (In which our drippy heroine FINALLY tries to get involved... unsuccessfully, I might add.) Gabe takes out Simon.

Fire in the Head!: Excellent, you immolated the Bitchy Badguy. Is the movie over yet? Simon tries for one last piece of 'comedy", with the line. "Oh, great... Am I on fire now?" before expiring. In the hands of the right director, that could have been a funny line. Need I mention who directed this tripe?

I'm getting bogged down. To steal a trick from Ken Begg, let's go to the bullet-point treatment until something interesting happens. Or until the movie ends. Whichever comes first.

Nice shot of the guy abseiling off the rock, Albert. Was there a point to that?

Oh, he was a "lookout". So they've invented cyborgs, but haven't re-invented a walkie talkie so he doesn't have to report to Job in person?

Ahhhgh! Tilt-a-cam! Stop giving me Battlefield Earth flashbacks, movie!

Why is that Cyborg talking like a London wide-boy?

Man, Kris Kristofferson needs a cellphone... because he's really phoning in his performance.

Unless he figured a Cyborg should talk robotically. In which case, why was Simon such a screamer?

The Cyborgs are heading for Taos! And suddenly Nea knows that, even though she's miles away. Our heroine just turned psychic on us!

Oh, good. Gabriel's going to train Nea to fight Cyborgs. I feel a montage coming on...

Wait, they have a "month" to train? We just saw Jobs army setting out! Are they seriously going to force-march humans for 30 days and expect them to be able to fight?

Gabe and Nea have time to train, as she knows a "shortcut" to Taos. Considering how much traveling the Cyborgs seem to take, it's one hell of a shortcut, all right.

Okay, we've had blue-tinted desert and orange-tinted desert... why the heck has the horizon gone neon green all of a sudden?

What the FUCK? The Cyborgs just found Simon... in the village he was sent to... and the month is over already? So 1) The Cyborgs would suck at Hide-and-Seek. And 2) The time-frame has gotten horribly screwed.

They've camped at Giant Seed Bell Rock!

"When do we start training?" Well, according to that last line of dialogue, a month ago, Nea.

My wife wondered why I started laughing. It was because Nea was standing next to the rear end of her horse. I wrote 'A horses ass' on my notes, then wondered if it was a cameo from the director.

Blue! Orange! Blue! Orange! Orange with green! PICK ONE, MOTHERFUCKER!

The cyborgs are still riding. I assume they're in Bolivia by now.

Training Montage! Well, if having Gabriel hit you repeatedly counts as training.

In an effort to move the plot along, we find out that Nea ditched her brother eight years back, leaving him in a village later wiped out by the cyborgs. I still think it's probably too later to be having issues over it now. Can we move on, please?

Hmm, the Cyborgs found their campfire... "Five days old" is the Lead Cyborgs opinion. In this movie, that could mean they were there five minutes ago, or June of last year.

WHOA, is that a bright orange filter! Where are they, the Microwaved Desert?

Okay, this training has gone from "painful' to "sadistic". Stop hitting her, Gabe!

Oh, great... the 'What is...love?" scene.

Gabriel's made of "spare parts"? He should have been in Raptor... that MOVIE was made of spare parts!

Okay, the last thing this movie needs is a Romantic Montage. But if you insist, Mr. Pyun.

Talk, talk, talk, talk... DO SOMETHING! (The middle third of this movie was not the most interesting 30 minutes of my life.)

Shit, they took a shortcut through Canada!

In fact, if there's still parts of the world covered in lush, green forest, why the hell are all the farmers hanging out in the parched desert? Stupid farmers.

What did that tree-stump do to Nea to deserve this sort of punishment? Or is it the post-apocalyptic equivalent of a Thigh master?

Taos is just another days ride away. They should be there by Christmas, in this films' time-frame.

Boy, this unlikely romantic subplot is getting more unlikely by the second.

Post-Apocalyptic Hissy Fit!

They're being attacked by Gay Druids!

Can I lend you a "Hand", pal? After Gabriel "disarmed" you and all.

Nea, Gabriel's fighting for his life. Stop giving him that pouty look and help!

Whoa, he's being attacked by the drummer from Poison!

Hair Metal Cyborgs head sounds like it's made from mahogany.

Fun Fact: Cyborgs weak spots are in their foreheads. I wonder if they can be noogied to death?

Machete-on-a-Wire!

One positive note... the music, while weedy and derivative, is at least appropriate. Later on, Mr. Riparetti mistakes the "Sappy Love Theme" button on his synth for the "Exciting Battle Theme".

Oh no! The blew up our Weenie Hero! (My notes just read "Bishop!".)

You know, having a built-in "Kill Zone" in your cyborgs could be considered a minor design flaw.

"Ha! We have captured you! Now stay here with out inefficient Hench-Humans and escape in your own time."

Total time of being captured. 58 seconds. Cyborgs are idiots.

Was that guys neck full of Rice Krispies?

It's the Love Theme Massacre!

Job has a parrot on his shoulder... what is this, Cyborgs of Penzance?

The "Master Builder" in on his way! Probably to complain about the cheap, shoddy sets.

Lance, what was with the clicking sounds at the end of each sentence? Is Jobs' fan belt coming loose?

Quit spitting, Fountain Boy, you're going to drown someone in dribble!

You know, if you can't spot a six-foot tall chick sneaking up on you from the featureless desert, you shouldn't really be on guard duty.

She did cheat by hiding in a scene clipped from the "forest" section of the film, I'll admit.

AND she kicked him in the nuts while he was down! Penalty! Two minutes for roughing!

Yeah, put on his clothes... that'll fool 'em for about nine seconds.

She's at Woodstock!

Either that or there's still sporting goods stores open in the Post-Apocalyptic Future...

I shouldn't mock... the cast and crew probably had to sleep in those tents.

So we're down to 17 Cyborgs... and according to these establishing shots, an army of maybe 2 dozen humans. I bet the 10,000 people in Taos are just petrified.

Lance Henriksen appears to be trying to balance out Kris Kristoffersons under-acting with his over-acting.

All right, a Pit Fight! Too bad there was no budget for a Pit. Dirt Fighting just seems so less interesting.

M.J is about to prove himself worthy to be in the Cyborgs! Dude, you joined EIGHT YEARS AGO! What have you been doing all this time?

These are some really weird reaction shots from Job. It's like they just filmed him making odd faces and then edited them into the scene at random intervals.

Nea gets a slight groping from the guys watching the fight and starts handing out the whoop-ass! Great undercover work, girl.

"I wave my knee in your general direction! How many fingers am I holding up?"

New Challenger!

Whoa, that's a weird cut! From Job chuckling evilly to two Cyborgs wandering through Tent City having a conversation. Are we still watching the same movie?

David! Paul! Micheal! Where's the cyborg called "Judas" we can root for?

He, there's that kid we last saw an hour ago! And he's helping his sister.. uh, Nea... get ready for her fight. (Damn I gave away the big twist we all saw coming 58 minutes ago.)

Okay, so MJ is still going to have his fight against the Wussiest-Looking Guy in camp before facing Nea? After she challenged him to save his life? This alien logic escapes me.

Nea walks in slow-mo. The fight happens in real-time. Which means the Wussy Guy is dead before she's covered ten yards. Nice going, girl.

The kick is up... No good! Wide right! (Insert gratuitous "Head" joke here.)

Stall

Stall

Lame fight!

Stall. Who taught these guys their offense, "Big Lazy" Kevin Nash?

Strangest reaction shot yet. Job laughs, then looks out into the middle distance. Was Lance Henriksen even THERE when this fight was shot?

I guess not. Any time he shares the same shot with the other actors, he's way off in the background. Like, far enough away for a body double.

Lame Fight!

Exeunt MJ. Hooray!

Ooh, arrow right in the drive shaft for Job!

"I fling myself at you!" "I hop around like a moron!"

Lame Fight!

Huh? Whafuck?: Okay, I'll break out of Bullet Time to try and explain THAT note. Due to some insanely bad editing, I suddenly felt like we'd skipped to a completely different part of the film. Here's what happened. Nea leaps over a rock, cut to Job on top of a bigger rock. Cut to Nea, picking a skewer of roasting meat off a campfire. Before you can say "When did she have time to pitch camp and cook?", she leaps back over the rock and fires not one, but TWO flaming shisk-kabobs at Job. He gets one in the chest. (Yes, ONE... the earlier arrow has vaporised in a puff of bad continuity.) Cut to Jobs' slave-girl, chanting and babbling insanely over the smouldering corpse of Jobs' (Cybernetic) parrot.

It took a few rewinds, but I figured it out eventually. The skewers were on a small campfire, glimpsed briefly as she leapt the rocks. The cybernetic parrot confuses me... who'd want to cybernetically enhance something that does nothing but eat and crap? And the two missing arrows are back in Jobs body next time we see him. Albert Pyun remains at large.

Penalty Flag! Using Bishops distorted voice for the dismembered Gabriel! And since Lance Henriksens in the cast, I think that's a five-minute major.

Big Fight Scene! Nope, it's over in thirty seconds. Cyborgs suck at stick-fighting.

Nea thanks Little Bro for his "help", he responds with "It was nothing". I have to agree, as he didn't DO anything except watch the fight and cheer her on a little. Penalty Flag for Script Stupidity! This movies in foul trouble early! (Yep, football, hockey and now basketball. I love mixing my metaphors.)

Hey, he's got a tiny crescent-shaped scar! Cue the flashback so we understand how this intricately-woven plot works.Okay, he IS her brother. I get it now.

Geez, when did Nea turn into Buffy the Cyborg Slayer?

16! 15! 14!

Ooh, a Face Implody!

Human Prairie Dog Attack!

How WAS that guy breathing down there? Another triumph for "Cool Visual" over "Logical Script". It was neither, in the end.

SLO-MO MAYHEM!

She's running the Stupid Gauntlet!

Little Bro is still behind the same rock and watching the fight, even though Neas run like, three miles already. Good eyesight on the kid.

Fight, fight, fight! Fight.

You know, what this movie needs is more fighting.

Okay, so she strapped the remains of Gabriel on her back. This should make for an interesting fight scene.

Hey, they're changing the rules! Unless the Cyborgs have secondary Kill Zones in their abdomens.

Midget-Strapped-to-Your-Back Attack!

13! 12! 11!

Fun Fact: All Cyborgs are compatible with OTHER Cyborgs!

Yay, Gabriel is all man again! Is this movie over yet?

Jobs' got the kid!

Wait, who's the guy in the diving suit? Is that the Master Builder?

And why is he talking like Darth Vader?

In fact, is my wife right when she said he's talking in Lance Henriksens' voice? I hope you paid him twice, Albert! Cheap-ass.

Ride her down like grass, Job!

Okay, picture this... Nea runs toward a charging horse... leaps in the air, kicks the rider off... and ends up riding the horse... even facing the right way, even though that would have needed a mid-air 180. Horsewoman of the Year!

Okay, make that KNIFE-woman of the Year. I swear she hit Job between the eyes while standing in the next county!

Fly the Stupid Skies! (The Master Builder takes off on a hang-glider(!!) with Little Bro. Good riddance.)

Now Jobs' been dis-armed.

So long, Job. Thanks for telling us where the Master Builder is taking the kid to. Cyborg City, huh? So if there's a CITY full of cyborgs, why was Job wandering about with 20 guys all this time?

Nea: Queen Useless of the Dumbfuck Tribe!

SEQUEL?: And here's where my jaw dropped. Albert Pyun may be many things... but he's a man with gonads the size of grapefruits to get away with THIS ending. Here's a partial transcript of our heroines final Voice-Over.

"The search for my brother would lead us across time and space... far beyond Cyborg City.. (something incomprehensible).. and finally to the edge of the Universe itself."

Uh-huh.

Well, needless to say, this rather expensive-sounding sequel has yet to be made. And somehow, I'm pretty sure it never will be. This film however, ends with some blatant..

Padding: As each of the 4 leads (Job, Nea, Gabriel and even Simon) get 30-second clips of their fight scenes before the credits roll. As they show them in reverse order, it kind of appears that Scott Paulin, who plays Simon, is the leading man. But hey... it's over.

Skeeters Summary: Painfully inept, butt-clenchingly cheap. Man vs. Machine? We'll call it a goal-less tie for this film.