Decadent Puppets and Strippers

Picking up where Decadent Evil (2005) left off, Ivan’s body (the legendary midget vampire hunter) lies in state. Meaning he’s dead…sort of…and being carried around in a duffel bag by a supermodel vampire named Sugar. (A nod to Basket Case/1982, perhaps?)

Also along for the ride is the midget vampire’s dad — Marvin the homunculus — being kept in a birdcage because he’s been turned into a shrunken red puppet. He can only grunt, but Sugar has no problem understanding him. This makes her human boyfriend understandably jealous. I would be.

Following clues that will lead to the king vampire and possibly a way to resurrect Marvin’s sorta dead son, Sugar and her non-bloodsucking mattress mate get jobs at a local strip club: She does Texas lap dances for cash (with her top on), he sprays antiseptic on the urinals. They believe the club owner is the king vampire whose been eating neck bacon and leaving the bodies along the Interstate.

In order for him to become invincible he needs to leave perma-hickeys on 10,000 blood-gooshing throats — and he has two left to go. Helping him is a couple other vampires —another stripper that doesn’t take her top off and the club’s bouncer.

But the jig is up for Sugar and her knob of a boyfriend. Taken to a junkyard for the final ritual, the pants lamely get pulled down on the king vampire who turns out to be somebody you didn’t think would be a king vampire. If you were paying attention to the “plot” you would’ve figured it out halfway in.

A can of tomato juice costs more than Decadent Evil II’s (2007) entire crap ass special effects budget. And what’s up with all the strippers not stripping? Yep, can’t wait to give all my money to girls to wear clothes. And if there’s anything worse about this 3rd grade script, it’s the final scene where a hottie vampire — tied to a bed with rope and bulbs of garlic — is served up doggy style by the shrunken red puppet. As entertainment value goes, though, you’re better off playing with your own shrunken red puppet.

Lake Monsters, Killer Snowmen, Hometown Exorcisms

Lots of reports of fresh sightings of the Lake Norman Monster (his name is “Normie”). Located in North Carolina, Normie’s been gooning out tourists by flashing his hump lately in public. While sightings go back 50 years, some think the creature is  a giant catfish, others an actual leftover from the prehistoric era. I’m theorizing it’s a Loch Ness monster shaped log someone threw in the lake. (Okay, it was me. Are you happy?)

Lake Norman is just under 20 miles from Uptown Charlotte. I know her; she’s kind of a floozy. If you go on LakeNormanMonster.com, there isn’t much in the way of compelling photographic evidence (mostly testimonies from drunk fishermen), but a virtual roadside stand of Normie books, posters, art, T-shirts and coffee mugs. I’ll give this to North Carolina — they know how to market a the snot out of this “creature” whose “sightings” are the stuff of tourist dollar dreams.

So is there an actual lake monster living in a North American lake that people swim, fish and pee in? With no physical evidence whatsoever, all signs still point to yes. And speaking of things you might want to keep an eye out for, here are a few upcoming horror and sci-fi movies/TV series that are more or less proven to exist…

TEMPLE (September 1, 2017)
“Three Americans on a trip to Japan are fascinated by a haunted temple, and, despite warnings from the villagers, decide to spend a night there.”

That’s Americans for you, never listening to anybody else other than the voices that come from the bottle you have a death grip on. Heck, show me a haunted temple/house/condo/dive bar and get out of my way. But know this — I won’t go all the way to Japan to party in a ghost-filled temple. Too expensive and I’d probably end up sitting next to a spirit of a coach class traveler the whole way there and back. The flick sounds fun, though it’ll probably look a LOT like one of my home movies.

THE EXORCIST SEASON 2 (Friday, September 29, 2017)
“Across the Atlantic, Father Bennett attempts to weed out those within the Vatican who have turned against God. Ultimately, Tomas and Marcus are led to Andrew Kim, a former child psychologist who runs a group home for five at-risk foster children on a secluded private island off the coast of Seattle. When one of the children under Andrew’s care is targeted by a powerful force, the two priests head west, setting themselves on a collision course with Hell.”

Two things: Watched season one and was blindsided with the story’s sweet twist. Secondly, season two takes place on a private island off the coast of Seattle? Well, double sweet, as the Emerald City is where I dwell. However, I do take issue with the “private island off the coast of Seattle” part; there is no such thing. There is, though, Vashon, Bainbridge and Whidbey islands, all of which are wide open to the stinky public and are only short ferry/paddle boat rides to go stink up the place. There’s a bunch of small islands (San Juans, Camano) within seagull reach. Maybe it’s one of those damned places. Heh.

THE SNOWMAN (October 20, 2017)
“When an elite crime squad’s lead detective investigates the disappearance of a victim on the first snow of winter, he fears an elusive serial killer may be active again. With the help of a brilliant recruit, the cop must connect decades-old cold cases to the brutal new one if he hopes to outwit this unthinkable evil before the next snowfall.”

Total stock serial killer plot, but with one exception — Michael Fassbender is the lead detective. He was Magneto in a couple X-Men movies and the android David/Walter in Alien: Covenant (2017). Also — and this is no joke — his character’s name in this one is Harry Hole. (I can’t even type that without LOL-ing.) But it’s true. You can’t make up stuff like this. Okay, I could. But no one else.

CHARISMATA (2017/2018)
“As a rookie detective struggling to find acceptance in a police department defined by a culture of bullying and intolerance, things go from bad to worse when the chief suspect in a series of brutal ritualistic murders takes a personal interest in her. A game of cat and mouse ensues which sees Rebecca’s grasp on reality beginning to spiral out of control, leading to a terrifying climax where she needs to fight for her sanity, her life and maybe even her soul.”

Maybe her soul? C’mon — make that part happen. No one cares about anybody’s sanity anymore as we’re all pretty much insane (except me). But when you throw a soul into the spiked punch bowl, then it’s time to grab a cup and start bailin’ like the darn thing sprung a leak. I do like the movie’s title — sounds like a freshly showered/powdered stripper or an ‘80s superheroine whose costume is nothing but stain-resistant spandex.

Skin vs Fur – A Fashion Statement

Rotund rocker Meat Loaf stars in Pelts (2006) as a furrier who runs a sweat shop (his shirt could count as one), and gets coat-making raccoon skins from a trapper. The trapper gets his raccoons from the woods. The raccoons are watched over by an old woman who lives in a shack and hasn’t mowed her lawn in years. She’s no doubt behind the curse that befalls anyone who takes the “pine lights,” a reference to the raccoons, whose eyes glow in the dark, the only part of ’em you can see when they’re up the trees ready to jump on your head get poison all over you.

Meat Loaf frequents a strip club where he’s totally sprung on a supermodel dancer. But she won’t give up the good stuff because he’s fat and icky. He promises her a fur coat so awesome, she’ll do it with him, just you wait and see.

A call from the trapper has Meat traveling way out in the woods to evaluate this so-called “best fur you’ve ever seen.” There’s a joke in there somewhere. When he gets there, he finds the trapper and his assistant dead, one of ’em with his face severed in half…length-wise. That’s what happens when you voluntarily put your head in a bear trap.

Meat finds the fur and is simply aghast — this is indeed the best fur he’s ever seen. And he’s been to a LOT of strip clubs. (Heh.) Taking the pelts, he gets his workers busy making the coat. But during the night the curse kicks in and one worker sews her eyes, nose and mouth shut, thereby suffocating herself. Instant job opening.

Meat takes the completed wrap to the stripper. It’s the best fur she’s ever seen, and she’s danced in a LOT of strip clubs. Trying it on, she gets all fuzzy inside and offers herself to the Meat. He takes it. But he’s not done, uh, showering her with gifts. He goes into the bathroom where a meat cleaver sits. All strippers have these kinds of knives in case they get a knot in their work bikini.

With skilled precision, Meat slices into his arms and stomach and, in an inspired moment, pulls his own skin off as though it were a seamless shirt. He gives it to the stripper who doesn’t want it. (Probably not her size.) But a chase into an old elevator ends with arms and legs being severed and no one left to try on the skin shirt. Too bad — it looks like you could wear it with just about anything.

Topless Aliens With Bottomless Desires

James Word is a handsome British spy more interested in hooking up with the ladies instead of shooting other spies in the face. But he gets paid to do both, so score for James. Speaking of scoring, the first half hour is nothing but him and a hot blonde playing strip poker. He loses, yet wins, if you know what I infer/imply.

The gal he’s “getting to know” wants to talk instead of, you know. She’s highly interested in his last mission, which involved investigating topless/bra-less alien chicks from the planet of Angvia. (Rearrange the letters.) They came to Earth to kidnap woman to repopulate their home meteor. One such candidate is a stripper, who doesn’t really dance, but kinda wiggles around and at the last note of the song she’s gyrating to, throws her arms up, thus revealing her means of employment. She’s a star.

Zeta One (aka, The Love Factor/The Love Slaves, 1969) is bouncingly bountiful with the aforementioned topless aliens. The characters spend more time naked than being clothed. And when they do decide to cover their shame, they’re bright red dresses with over the knee white vinyl go-go boots. Who knew extraterrestrials could look as good with britches on?

In the end, James is the one kidnapped and “forced” to get all of the Angvians preggo. The scene where he’s being pumped full of raw oysters and booze while a hand-painted naked alien chick dances spastically in front of him while the other alien chicks wait in the lobby for their turn at bat is yet another reason to watch this sexified sci-fi comedy, which borrows liberally from Barbarella (1968). Works for me on several levels.

Slasher’s Aren’t Very Knife

There’s a razor blade slasher reducing the population of strippers in New York. What the heck, man? These ladies perform a vital service to society and you wanna kill them? Messed up, dude. This sets the sex and violence mood in 1983’s American Nightmare, a low-grade/low-rent slasher flick filmed in Toronto, home of Pothole Filler Imperial Stout™.

So there she was, naked in a hotel room, about to close a business deal with a client, when the messed up dude pulled out a razor made for shaving, and cut her throat — and she didn’t even need a shave! Again, messed up.

Earlier, Isabelle (the stripper-slash-hooker-slash-slasher victim) left messages for her brother to come save her from danger. (In New York, that could be anything from a serial killer to a dirty public toilet seat). He doesn’t know he’s way too late, and searches every strip joint in town. Gotta love his methodology; hope he brought a lot of small bills — to, um, buy information, of course.

The guy (Eric) hooks (sorry) up with a dancer (Louise) and they both go on the empty-lead search. In-between all of this is LOTS of bold displays of the female anatomy set to music and an increasing bare body count. There’s even a sex scene that, back in 1983, was likely rated-X. By today’s standards and practices, it would only fetch a PG designation. But hey…ladies dancing without the muss and fuss of clothing. Like I said, a VITAL service.

The killer in this gritty slasher flick gets it in the end. Okay, that didn’t come out right. Regardless, his identity came as no surprise. What IS a surprise was the transvestite hooker. A surprise to her clients, anyway. Ha!

Turkish Dracula

1953’s Drakula İstanbul’da — painstakingly translated to Dracula in Istanbul, paints the Prince of Darkness in humorless hues. (Actually, the movie is in black and white, but Dracula was/is a pretty colorful guy.) This Turkish Dracula is balding, has crayon tip fangs pointing opposite directions, and is only interested in real estate deals and juicing your neck.

Drakula İstanbul’da is a re-vamping (heh) of the 1928 novel Kazıklı Voyvoda (Impaler Voivode). And that book was a near photocopied translation of Bram Stoker’s novel that brought Dracula into the mainstream. Only difference is the Mina character is a stripper (um, I mean “showgirl”) and Dracula boot lick Renfield is nowhere to be found. (He’s probably in some basement eating the life force of bugs.)

Drakula is hungry and his feeding techniques look more like he’s leaning in to tell you a bawdy joke rather than a perforation. His target is two young ladies, one of whom has a mysterious secret: sleepwalking. Scary, but assured it’ll go away once she’s married. (Heard that doesn’t work with uncontrollable flatulence.)

Drakula is hunted down in a long and boring process (the only chills would be if you watched this in the Antarctica with the windows open), and dispatched with a medium rare stake through the heart as applied with a rock. Time to take down the anti-Drakula decorations — all garlic must go. “But I use it to cook with,” says Mina, who protests she won’t be able to make her eggplant recipe without it. (No person in their right mind would eat that crap anyway, so better to just move on to mac ’n cheese and give up this eggplant madness and schemes.)

Dracula isn’t the only intellectual property grave Istanbul has robbed. Superman, Flash Gordon, Zorro, Captain America, Batman, Tarzan, Satan and Spider-Man (as a green-suited criminal) have all been given a Turkish bath, and look like they were dressed in clothes their moms made them. Final note: You haven’t any idea of what Istanbul is all about until you’ve seen Turkish Batman cavort with ladies of burlesque.

P.S. For some prime hardcore Turkish horror action, check out Baskin (2015), wherein four cops enter the foyer of Hell when they happen upon a Black Mass in an abandoned building. Hope you have a strong stomach. Otherwise it’s recycled eggplant time.

Home For The Holidays with Serial Killers and Robots

Nothin’ like celebrating the impending holiday season with some slashers, serial killers and robots. Oops, I forgot — robots now prefer to be called “cyborgs.” Fine by me. A rose by any other name,

NEVER OPEN THE DOOR (December 6, 2016)
“Three happy couples retreat to a cozy secluded cabin in the woods to enjoy Thanksgiving. A badly wounded stranger appears at the door, and when they let him in, he throws up blood and collapses on the floor. As he dies, he points towards the lovers and croaks his final words: “Never open the door”. The dumbfounded group of friends start to panic as one of their own inexplicably disappears. Doubt rises by the minute and mistrust soaks through the cabin. As strange men surround the cabin, escape becomes paramount. Who will open the door?”

I don’t want to goon you out, but if a wounded stranger shows up on your doorstep at Thanksgiving and throws up on the floor, it’ll likely be me. I’ll leave without a fuss as long as your prepare a to-go box with turkey, mashed potatoes and 16 airline bottles of vodka. (I’ll find my own mixer in the dumpster behind 7-Eleven™ — good pickins!) And would it kill you to throw in a couple of slices of grandma’s pumpkin pie?

I AM NOT A SERIAL KILLER (December 9, 2016 / VOD)
“John Wayne Cleaver is dangerous and he knows it. He is 16 and helps his mum and aunt at the family mortuary. John is obsessed with serial killers but really doesn’t want to become one. So for his own sake and the safety of those around him he lives by rigid rules to keep himself “good” and “normal.” When somebody starts murdering people in John’s small Mid-West town, he has to investigate and risk letting his own dark side out in order to stop the killer. But without his rules to keep him in check he might be more dangerous than the monster he is stalking. As the icy winter tightens its grip on the community a deadly supernatural game of cat and mouse ensues.”

John Wayne Cleaver. Now there’s a name you can hang your entrails on. As for living by “rigid rules” to stay “good” and “normal,” I bet ’ol JWC is one just Jagermeister smoothie away from drumming up business for the family business.

DETOUR (January 9, 2017 / VOD)
“Harper, a seemingly naive law student, obsesses over the idea that his shifty stepfather was involved in the devastating car crash that left his mother hospitalized and comatose. He drowns his suspicions in whiskey until he finds himself suddenly engrossed in conversation with volatile grifter Johnny and his stripper companion, Cherry. As daylight breaks and the haziness of promises made becomes clearer, how will Harper handle the repercussions (not to mention the violent duo — on his doorstep)? Employing a split-narrative structure to tell this tale of deception and murder, Detour takes the audience on a thrill ride full of hairpin turns, where it’s never quite clear what or who can be trusted.”

I’m sorry — I didn’t catch anything after “drowning in whiskey.”

GHOST IN THE SHELL (March, 2017)
“The Major (Scarlett Johansson), a special ops, one-of-a-kind human-cyborg hybrid, leads an elite task force known as Section 9. Devoted to stopping the most dangerous criminals and extremists, Section 9 is faced with an enemy whose singular goal is to wipe out Hanka Robotic’s advancements in cyber technology.”

The stunningly gorgeous Scarlett Johansson as a one-of-a-king human-cyborg hybrid. That explains a couple the things, the first of which is why she doesn’t return my e-mails. (I’m probably just spam to her.) Regardless, this live action sci-fi thriller is based on the enduringly popular Japanese seinen manga series by Masamune Shirow that got its start back in 1989. Scarlett Johansson got her start in 1984. I could probably make a connection there, but the cyborg part of my humanity is on the blink — again — so just go with it.

Boy Scouts vs. Zombies

The trailer for Scouts Guide To The Zombie Apocalypse (arriving October 30, 2015) is pretty dang funny. There’s a moment where three teen boy scouts and a supermodel strip club cocktail waitress battle the undead, and one of the scouts stops to take selfies with a few prison zombies. Scout #1: “Stop agitating them.” Scout #2: “What – I need a profile pic…” I don’t know why that cracked me up.

The movie features zombie strippers, zombie boobs (“I touched ’em – I don’t think they were real…”), zombie cats, zombie classmates and metric tons of gore and splatter, all of which is served up big production high camp comedy style ala Zombieland (2009).

So the nerdy scouts, along with the “cocktail waitress,” take on a legion of the undead, using their skills to earn a myriad of scout badges, all in one night. Wonderin’ if a scout getting a lap dance from a zombie stripper falls into a scout badge category. Hey, if you want more recruits…

The Lord’s Vampire

When a “weak of flesh, but strong in the Lord” preacher is bitten by a vampire, you’d think God would step in a go, “Oh no you di’int.” Maybe because the preacher frequents strip clubs and does things in the private lap dance room contrary to his belief system. Back to Bible Camp for you, pal.

A small Southwest town and aforementioned strip club is the intersection for several drama collisions, one being a gorgeous single-mom stripper with a 10 year-old daughter, a suicidal-by-alcohol club bouncer who a while back killed his young daughter while driving drunk, a man and woman vampire looking to get in some low-key snacks, and the aforementioned fire-n-brimstone preacher who survives a vampire attack, only to become one himself.

Once shown the true light, the preacher recruits his flock to weed out the cancer in the community. His target: the strip club. But only after he makes the red-head his eternal bride of doom.

The bouncer, Hazel Fortune (half of that is a cool name), becomes emotionally attached to the stripper’s young daughter, and sees a chance to be the dad he wasn’t on that night he made his own daughter pay for his drinks.

The local rednecks are all too eager to help usher in the Lord’s way, and do redneck-y stuff to those they capture and hold hostage in an old house. The dude vampire, now single as the Preacher managed to kill his toothy wife after the initial attack, steps up to help Hazel rescue the little girl and stripper mom, who is a vampire stripper now. A lot to suck in, but stay with the group.

Lots of neck puncturing, eye stabbing, knife poking and head shot-gunning. But oddly, no bare boobies. You’d think with a strip club as the metaphor, they’d at least put ’em on the glass. Not so with this one.

Southern Gothic (2007) has a few corny moments (the preacher is waaaaaaay over the top with his preachin’), and a platter of splatter. But it felt like the vampires needed explaining. And at least one bare boob. It would’ve helped the plot waaaaaaaay more.

Undead Cinderella

Cadaverella (2007) is a trailer park re-telling of Cinderella (1950), with the wicked stepmother being a step-stripper, a ghost dad, a romantic guy in a wheelchair and a voodoo entity that seems like a pretty cool guy. He doesn’t do anything evil; he just creates situations where evil  can hit the fan. I wonder if he has a Facebook™ page?

Any ol’ way, Cinder is a redhead virgin about to turn 21, where she’s due to inherit a pile of cash from her late father. The step-stripper mother, though, has designs for said cash and hires/beds a tough guy as a “gardener” who is obsessed with having sex with, then killing, Cinder. He does this.

Cinder, though, with help from the voodoo guy, is resurrected from the beyond and gets a shot at revenge by giving her until midnight to go revengin’. She initially does this topless, which is required by back-from-the-dead law.

You know how as a kid you’d go around squeezing the brains out of your little brother/sister? That’s what Cinder does to step-mom. And the psycho guy gets his right in the gut bucket.

Cinder looks like a Wal-Mart™ version of your sister and has really nice shirt stuffers. Before she dies, she gives below-the-equator hand and mouth massages to her wheelchair-bound boyfriend. That is so thoughtful. Oh, and she cusses a lot. Dead or alive, you’ll really want to go out with her. Unless she’s your sister. In which case, eewww!