No Innards in Outer Space

Gore From Outer Space (20010) is one of the most misleading titles since Debbie Does Dallas (1978). There is no gore. There is no outer space. There is no excuse.

The sequel to Crazy Lips (2000), Gore (aka, Chi wo sû uchû ) picks up where Lips left off, with the gorgeous Satomi headed for the gas chamber for lighting her daughter on fire. She thought it was a walking/talking doll. She tells the police her daughter’s been kidnapped. Well, crap-o-rama — she doesn’t have a daughter. That doesn’t stop Satomi from frantically looking for her, though.

She finds a house with no bathroom or kitchen, but there are drawings that a little girl made. Then, an older guy looking to be elected into political office, has forcible sex with her and gets her knocked up. This pundit is actually an alien, so that when the baby is extracted, it’ll be a human/alien “mixed blood.” The movie makes about as much sense as this blog.

No scenes of graphic behavior anywhere, nor is there any blood to speak of. When Satomi breaks out of the gas chamber (that was easy), she lets all the other death row inmates out, where they get into a huge kung fu fight with the police. How this factors in to the plot is beyond the limits of my limited comprehension.

The ONLY reason I kept watching is there was a glimmer of hope Satomi would do something gore gnarly. Regrettably, she does not. Normally, I’m suckered by cool DVD covers. This time I was sandbagged by the title. And Satomi singing a love ballad while being led off to be gassed didn’t ease my pain in the slightest.

The Devil Is A Jive Turkey

A bunch of ancient Chinese warrior monks with swords and crossing guard yellow pajamas put an evil amulet into a box. Then they put that box into a bigger box. And before it can do a “Pop Goes The Weasel” on ‘em, they landfill it into a deep cave-y hole, then slice themselves into sandwich bologna in order to maintain the secret whereabouts of said demonic jewelry, which would release a height/weight proportionate demon.

Flash forward to mid-1970s New York, where a really tall, muscular and shirtless kung fu instructor with an afro and anti-whitey attitude the size of Manhattan is teaching street thugs how to make that slappy sound when punching people in the sac, in this case a gang of Chinese gangstas, whom they are constantly turf warring.

Luke Curtis, the superfly of slapping (and kicking and karate chopping), decides to go to China to ramp up his punching skillz, taking along the street-slang yapping student, Rodan. (No, not Godzilla’s smart-mouth/beak pterodactyl, but a jive turkey.) It’s here Rodan steals the evil amulet (it thought outside the box) and it’s transported back to Harlem, where it unleashes the demon, who possesses a guy in a suit and turns him into a bug-eyed zombie that rips people open as if a birthday present. Then he goes into the subway where it’s nice and dark — exactly where you’d want to go to kill some time and other things. Soon, mangled bodies are showing up like pawn shop jewelry.

The cops think it’s a war between the African American gang (some of who are white) and the Chinese gang, who all wear black t-shirts and white pants. Both sides make that slappy sound when executing really slow and inept kung fu offenses to upper and lower torsos.

A tentative truce is suggested and the Chinese kung fu master tells Luke about the amulet and its powers to possess people, use loved ones against its enemies and cause hallucinations that’ll definitely stain gold lamé bell-bottom jumpsuits (Luke’s stylish action wear) OR white pants. He ventures into the subway for a demonic kick-boxing confrontation that has runaway subway trains appearing out of nowhere and then disappearing, heavy duty smacking and the letting of blood.

The Devil’s Express (aka, Gang Wars/1976) is one of those “so bad, you can’t help but watch it” movies. Painful dialogue, exaggerated fight facial expressions and a manifested demon who looks like a glowing eyed mummy wrapped in cloth that’s been dipped in one of New York City’s finest garbage cans. The only thing better is Luke’s pimp-esque wardrobe. Now to go on Amazon.com to see if I can find a gold lamé bell-bottom jumpsuit to go with my platform shoes. Then it’s off to the subway for me.

Stylish Snake Hat

In the 1970 horror martial arts flick Devil Woman, the night Manda was born in the Philippines, a freak lightning storm came outta nowhere and somehow transformed the crib rat into “a monster.” (Her dad’s words, not mine, as he saw her and crapped his pants. Neither was shown.)

As Manda gets few years under her head wrap (she’s clearly hiding something besides chronic dandruff), the neighborhood kids taunt her and try to take off the stylish turban. Blocking her in an alley, one kid sticks his hand under Manda’s hat and gets his hand bitten by a snake that was lounging under there. This brands Manda as a monster and she’s tormented relentlessly. Later, when she’s grown up to look like she came from the U.S. even though she was Filipino as a child, Manda vows relentless revenge on her formative years’ taunters.

Those who flaunted their taunts should be visibly shaken — Manda is indeed a monster and has the power to control snakes to do her bidding. This leads to hazardous conditions as the entire village is surrounded by dirt and woods where snakes make their living, a supportive argument for revenge law and demand supply.

Enter a Chinese kung fu master who wears a gold necklace, white V-neck t-shirt and white pants. All he needs is a vertical haircut and he’d be the kung fu master version of Vanilla Ice. His footwear looked like indoor slippers, though. He rescues a young gal, the daughter of a wealthy local dude, from a  gang of hooligans, who work for a gangsta head hooligan. (Full disclosure — he works for Manda.) The kung fu master takes on 20 thugs and kicks all their pants right in the pants. This won’t be the last time he has to deal with these smirking criminals, who mistakenly think there’s strength in numbers.

Manda continues her reptile revenge, killing her tormentors. While this is going on, the kung fu master has six (!) more run-ins with the gang, whose members now count in the 30s. And still, he mops the dirt floor with ‘em. When the local (and single) young gal is kidnapped and brought to the cave where Manda lives (kinda neat — wonder if it has working plumbing?), the master goes to rescue her. He predictably fresh beats the thugs into tenderized pork, jumps and flips over multiples of snakes, and faces off with Manda. It’s here she takes off her hoodie and reveals her hair is not hair at all, but a pile of icky wiggle snakes. (Medusa should file intellectual property infringement.)

Manda controls the snakes by snaking up her eyes and waving her hands in front of her, as if slowly washing an invisible window. This is ironic as most windows are already invisible. The master flings sharpened Popsicle sticks at the snakes and acupunctures their heads. Manda, who no doubt maintains heir coiling coif with Ssssalon Selective™ shampoo, falls after being cornered on a rock cliff. We don’t see her splat. This means, of course, sequel city. (Spoiler: It’s titled Bruka: Queen of Evil/1973).

Finnish Superheroes, Hitler Dinosaurs, Vampire Neighbors

Been watching the new Marvel™ TV series Iron Fist on Netflix™. There are good aspects and some so bad it causes involuntary facial flinching. Daniel Rand, introduced as a kid who lost his corporate rich mom and dad in a relaxing vacation plane wreck over the Himalayas, is rescued by invisible monks and raised for the next 15 years to be the next Iron Fist, solely designed to wipe out the evil gang, The Hand. They beat him with sticks every day to reinforce their clenched mandate.

15 years later he shows up unexpectedly in downtown New York as a shoeless street bum (with hipster beard and an iPod™), trying to reconnect with his dad’s company. (He’s an heir worth billions and yet can’t afford socks, matching or otherwise.)

All of this I can get behind except they make him say and do stupid things. (Really bad chi-generating meditation moves and stilted kung-fu reference dialogue.) Worst, they give him a lava glowing fist that, when he’s provoked by violence, lights up and he can punch criminals and/or walls right in the sheet rock. Walls pretty much deserve it because they impede proper feng shui. Stupid walls.

All in all, mildly entertaining, but a surprising misstep by Marvel™, whose only blemish on a stellar track record has been The Fantastic Four. (Note to Marvel — PLEASE quite trying to make that one work. No one gives a crap about a guy who can stretch like a rubber band and another one who looks like passed kidney stones.)

Speaking of things to pass on, here are a few upcoming horror and sci-fi movies that may or may not need to be medically assisted to leave your body…

RENDEL (2017)
“A dark avenger is born when a worldwide corporation known as VALA launches an untested vaccine called Nh25 into the market by bribing, threatening, and killing every official opposing them.

Rendel unleashes his own special kind of hell against VALA, threatening to put an end the distribution of Nh25 As blood spills and the money burns, VALA recruits a group of mercenaries to do what they seemingly can’t, eliminate Rendel permanently.”

Rendel is Finland’s first superhero movie. About time they jumped on the bandwagon. Heck, I’m filming my own superhero movie as we speak: Yell Man: Neighbor Wars (pending $10 million crowd-funding.) Sounds like Rendel is a cross between Spawn (1997) and, well, me (I have a suit just like his, so you can see why people would make the connection. And by people, I mean me.) Despite a personal affront, looking forward to this one.

LIVING AMONG US (2017)
“A documentary crew is sent in to interview a family of vampires whose existence has been made known to the world. But soon the crew realizes their very lives are in danger as they uncover a deadly secret and must fight for survival.”

Sounds like they took the framework of Fright Night (1985) and went to town with it. So vampires are living next door. Might be time to order some garlic polo shirts and Internet-ordered wooden stakes and go door-to-door because now I’m thinking those aren’t just a-holes living next to me, but bloodsucking a-holes.

IRON SKY: THE COMING RACE (February 14, 2018)
“Twenty years after the events of Iron Sky, the former Nazi Moonbase has become the last refuge of mankind. Earth was devastated by a nuclear war, but buried deep under the wasteland lies a power that could save the last of humanity — or destroy it once and for all. The truth behind the creation of mankind will be revealed when an old enemy leads our heroes on an adventure into the Hollow Earth. To save humanity they must fight the Vril, an ancient shape-shifting reptilian race and their army of dinosaurs.”

You can look but you may not find anything as crazy cool as Iron Sky (2012). And now with it’s sequel (which I e-barfed about on November 11, 2014) is within release sight. The new trailer shows a reanimated Hitler riding a T-Rex like it was a hobby horse, looking to re-take the world from the inside out. (Turns out those hollow Earthers were right. My apologies.) Consider putting Iron Sky: The Coming Race on your to-do/bucket list.

LOVECRAFT COUNTRY (HBO/in-production)
“After his father goes missing, Black joins up with his friend Letitia and his Uncle George to embark on a road trip across 1950s Jim Crow America to find him. This begins a struggle to survive and overcome both the racist terrors of white America and the malevolent spirits that could be ripped from a Lovecraft paperback.”

Racists and dark god entities. And how does this differ from the current political administration? You’ve already seen this — every night on the news.

That ’80s Werewolf

The 1989 werewolf movie Night Shadow has more problems than just its super lame name. In human form, the werewolf is a drifter who looks like he spent the night under a cactus along the desert highway he trolls for victims. And he never utters a single word though the entire movie and just glare stares at you until you’re hypnotized. Or bored. (Growls don’t count as words, they’re just one long syllable.)

A big city news reporter gal comes back to her home town on vacation just as bodies and half-eaten parts are showing up like highway litter. Then there are three young guys who joke their way through the whole thing, all with bad mullets and mid-drift tank tops. (Those things were outdated the minute they went on sale.) The Asian member of the trio happens to be a martial arts expert (and motel fix-it dude) and Bruce Lees several bikers who are trying to have a romantic moment with a screaming biker chick in one of the rooms.

What does this have to do with the werewolf? I’m still trying to figure that out. And speaking of, the woolly bully makes his first fully formed moment one hour and seven minutes into the 90 minute flick. When he makes with the fur, he looks like a sheep that needs to be sheared.

The werewolf in human form has been staying at the roadside motel and stalking the big city girl, attempting to put her under his leash. (When he stares long enough, lightning bolts flash around his eyes. Wish I could do that. Then I’d be a millionaire or something.) He keeps maggot covered body parts snacks in the dresser where neatly folded clothes and/or local magazines go.

The local sheriff, whose hot for the city chick (they almost smooched, for cryin’ out loud), ends up in a face off with the werewolf in an abandoned warehouse. The kung-fu kid, who was being blamed for all the maggot-y chew bones, comes to the aid of the sheriff, whose deep in the doghouse with this non-speaking wolf-man.

Painful ‘80s hairstyles, day-glo clothing, Valley girl dialogue, and overly furry werewolf costume. Night Shadow is totally fer sure non-bombdigity.

Asian Zombie Vampires

When you stop whatever it is you’re doing and watch Tsui Hark’s Vampire Hunters (aka, The Era of Vampires/2002), a made-in-Hong-Kong period piece (ancient 19th Century days), you’re gonna learn some things about vampires and zombies that you never knew.

First, vampires and zombies are one in the same. Crazy talk, I know. But when a person dies and is buried in a p*ssed off state of mind, that anger energy festers and reanimates your death bod. When you come out of the grave and go on an “all the flesh you can eat” binge, then you change into a vampire. It should be noted that while in zombie and vampire mode, your face looks like deceased meatloaf. And the only thing that goes with that is human ketchup. (Note: In zombie form, you can still be “cured” with coffin wood powder. I think you can get it at GNC™.)

Along with their master, four kung fu disciples — Rain, Lightning, Thunder, and Wind (graduates from the Taoist Mao Shan School of Magic) and a gaggle of disposable soldiers — tirelessly roam the land for zombie vampires. They do this at night because vampires look cooler after the sun goes down. Doesn’t take long to find one — and it just happens to be general of some recognition. The combative thing shoots out of the ground, flies around, and sucks blood right out of your proprietary orifices — from a foot away! Wish my vacuum cleaner had that kind of sucking power.

Someone screws up (looking in your direction disposable solider #6), resulting in a huge explosion due to methane gas turning the air explosive. This made everyone think Master Jing (It rhymes with ‘blaster zing”) was barbecued. (He wasn’t, but got separated from the tour.) Now it’s on, with the band, whose descendants I think formed Earth, Wind & Fire, tracking errant vampires, all the while meeting chicks, finding gold and living up to their frat pledge: “Turn it up I can’t hear, more chicks more beer!” Okay, that was my frat motto — and I didn’t even go to college. Heh.

The House of Jiang is rich and loaded with gold that everybody keeps trying to steal. And there’s zombies in the basement. The Jiangs have been preserving their departed loved ones in wax and keeping them around the house like objet d’art. You can see where this is going. Master Jiang turns out to be an extremely accomplished vampire with car exhaust breath, and engages in an epic, gory, kung-fu acrobatic, sword slicing, hi-flying battle with the gang and their reunited master. (His explanation as to why he’s been gone all these months is pretty funny.)

The fight takes an unexpected turn when sticks of dynamite are introduced to the mix. But it’s the last shot of 100 (maybe there was 97) zombies in the basement that sets up a sequel that either never happened or I didn’t see. What’s the difference? In all, an entertaining waste of time.

GoD is a Helluva GaL

So the coffin everyone seeks in the Asian horror/fantasy flick Death Trance (2006) is reputed to either grant your wildest wishes or release the Goddess of Destruction. Guess which one this does?

An ancient Asian duplex/temple where the coffin has been baby-sat for years, is stolen by a martial arts expert who defends his prize by kicking everyone in the face. A wussy monk from the Tougan Temple has been tasked with bringing the coffin back and is given a sword, that when unsheathed, will help put back in the box whatever/whomever is let out.

Along the journey into the Forest of the Face-Kicks (that’s what I’m calling it, anyway), another guy seeking the coffin shows up to kick people in the face. Then a chick arrives who does pretty much the same thing. By the time the coffin is opened and the Goddess of Destruction is let loose to wreck everything, you’re left wondering what the point was to all of this. I was unable to figure it out — and I have a high school degree.

Lots of face kicking and ninja action. The GoD (oh, hey — I just got that abbreviation — thank you high school degree) lays waste to everything, but not before doing battle with the guy who stole the coffin in the first place. He got his wish. Can you figure out what it was? Only if you have the proper schooling accreditation. Like me.

Kung fu Scarecrow

Scarecrow (2002) is YET ANOTHER horror movie to use the Carrie (1976) theme of an outcast student who obtains supernatural powers to exact terrifying revenge on those that made fun of him and/or wouldn’t invite him to any of their heavy metal vomit parties.

The twist here is that the kid gets killed to death by his white trash mom’s new drunk boyfriend (who, just moments before, was porking ’ol mom in the trailer), and comes back reincarnated as a wisecracking scarecrow. Makes sense. As the protector of all things corn-on-the-cob, the scarecrow hacks and chops his enemies to mulch. [Insert yawn here.]

Where they really dropped the melon is by giving the scarecrow acrobatic skills; he jumps and flips around as if an extra in a kung fu movie. That, and they didn’t make him very tall. Even his mom – who is horizontal most of the time – is bigger than he is. You’d think Scarecrow would stuff his shoes with all that straw he has laying around. Worse, the puns he cracks before each kill are more tired than the plot.

The only scares this scarecrow delivers are to the crows that would crap on his crops.

They Call Him Mr. Vampire

Mr. Vampire (not his real name) and his Two Stooges assistants, dig up an ancient tomb, looking to steal its contents. They find a vampire husband, wife and child, who all come back to life, thanks to the bumbling antics of the two assistants who need a solid front kick to the rice bag.

That’s pretty much it for Mr. Vampire 2 (1986). Stupid comic bits, over-choreographed kung-fu fights and pratfalls, and those dumb hopping vampires.

Throat-ripping and blood? Not a severed vein or crimson neck leak to be found. Mr. Vampire, you are hereby relieved of your duties.

People Pot Pies

A small, turn-of-the-Century Japanese village is populated by cannibals. They trap wayward travelers, tie them to tables, then cut them in half with saws made for logging. The bloody-yet-delicious pieces are then divided up between the two clans that comprise the non-vegetarian town.

The Chief of Security, though, always hogs most of the savory chunks for him and his staff, as well as his hot skank who has a taste for human hearts. There’s a joke in there somewhere. Anyone caught trying to leave the village to notify the police becomes soup du jour. And the meat-hungry villagers clamor for more.

Hearing tales about this “human buffet,” Agent 999 travels there to add his own recipe to their menu: a knuckle sandwich. This is good because 999’s a kung-fu master and applies his lightning-quick pie hole kicks to quite a few pie holes.

That’s pretty much it – a human chop shop with LOTS of grisly gore and LOTS of slick martial arts. This may sound like an oxymoron, but We’re Going To Eat You (1980) is also fun. But with cannibals AND kung-fu, you already knew that.