Posts Tagged ‘Satanism’


Murder Obsession

April 26th, 2012 | article by | 1 Comment »
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dir. Riccardo Freda
1981 / Dionysio Cinematografica / 97′
written by Riccardo Freda, Antonio Cesare Corti, Simon Mizrahi, and Fabio Piccioni
director of photography Christiano Pogany
original music by Franco Mannino
starring Stefano Patrizi, Martine Brochard, Henri Garcin, Laura Gemser, John Richardson, Anita Strindberg, Silvia Dionisio, and Frabrizio Maroni
Murder Obsession is out on Blu-ray (reviewed here) and DVD from Raro Video USA, and is available through Amazon.com or Raro Video directly.

Co-produced by Italy and France as a means of cashing in on the popularity of the burgeoning American slasher, esteemed director Riccardo Freda’s last stand (he would be fired from his only subsequent directing job) is ultimately far, far stranger than its body count pedigree might suggest. A horror in the broadest since of the word, Murder Obsession bucks categorization by synthesizing practically every familiar genre motif imaginable into an unwieldy and confoundedly contrived cine-monstrosity that must be seen to be believed.

The plot, such as it can be described, concerns young actor Michael, who as a child murdered his famed conductor father after witnessing him beating his mother. Ostensibly cured of the violent impulses that drove him to kill, Michael grows into a seemingly normal human being and a successful film actor to boot. But when one of his roles calls for him to strangle his co-star he takes the stunt too far, nearly killing the poor woman instead. After the incident Michael begins to wonder whether his compulsion to kill has been cured or not, and finds himself compelled to visit his ailing mother and the family mansion where the original murder took place. His girlfriend and a few close friends join him for the trip, expecting a bit of deep-country high-life fun, and who can blame them – what could possibly go wrong on a vacation to the isolated Gothic family mansion of an admitted ex-murderer?

Dramatically Murder Obsession is only so interesting as its dull protagonist, a decidedly vacant Stefano Patrizi (The Cassandra Crossing), and its similarly disinterested writing (credited to four screenwriters, including director Freda himself) allows. This is slow, dry going for the first half hour or so, with no effort at all put into ratcheting suspense from the dynamite situation. With Michael appearing so indifferent about his own potential insanity and non-threatening besides, it’s difficult for the audience to buy him as anything but the film’s most obvious red-herring. His lack of conversational manners is amusing, at least – “In case you hadn’t heard, I killed my dad,” he blandly interjects at one point. The rest of the cast fair about as well, both in performance and scripting, from Sylvia Dionisio (Blood for Dracula) as Michael’s girlfriend and D’Amato muse Laura Gemser (Black Emanuelle) as his unfortunate co-star to John Richardson (Bava’s Black Sunday) as the obligatory creepy groundskeeper.

Fortunately for us director Freda and his collaborators seem to have lost all interest in what they had been doing at roughly the half hour mark, at which point Murder Obsession takes a sharp turn into the nonsensically bizarre and never really recovers. Groundskeeper Richardson stares blankly into the abyss as muddy footprints are left on the mansion’s floor by invisible feet. Gemser is nearly strangled to death – again. Girlfriend Dionisio lapses into a hysterical nightmare, in which she wanders endless tunnels full of screeching rubber bats and enormous spider webs and neath forest bows full of blood-dripping skulls before finding herself strapped to a sacrificial cross and embroiled in a Satanic ceremony that raises a giant and rape-hungry hell-spider from beyond. As familiar as I’ve become with the twists and turns that permeate Italian genre cinema I was honestly surprised by the sudden developments here. After thirty minutes of mind-grinding monotony I couldn’t help but wonder what right Murder Obsession suddenly had to kick ass.

While the giant and rape-hungry hell-spider from beyond is definitely the high point of the proceedings (and what a high!) Murder Obsession thankfully never again settles into its earlier groove, instead opting to channel the gialli of the decade before by way of the slashers that were in the process of transforming so many American drive-in screens into clearing houses for disposable teenagers. As Michael-and-company wander the mansion grounds a leather-gloved killer stalks them down, chewing through their bored and worthless humanity with a hunting knife, an axe, and, most dramatically, a chain saw. While the pretense of mystery is upheld throughout (practically everyone in the film owns leather gloves, inviting a bit of ‘whodunnit’ pondering) Murder Obsession doesn’t seem too concerned with it, and takes more pleasure in whittling down its cast to the point that the responsible party is obvious. In contrast to its early slog the latter two thirds of the story move at a fever pitch, as the film hemorrhages blood and sense on its way to a ludicrous conclusion that may just be cinema’s greatest bastardization of Michelangelo’s Pietà (those sensitive to sacrilege need not apply).

To say that Murder Obsession is a good film would be a gross overstatement, but it’s certainly different, and just the sort of strange, nonsense achievement that I’m happy to have cluttering up my video shelves. Still, a recommendation is tough. Those whose eyes twinkled and hearts leapt at the words giant rape-hungry hell-spider from beyond likely already know where they’re going to stand on this one, and I’ll not deter them from seeking it out. They must, for it is in their blood. The rest of you would probably do best to stick with more respectable genre diversions.

I’ve yet to cover The Fernando Di Leo Crime Collection, the only other Raro Video USA Blu-ray release I own and a real mixed bag in terms of both transfers and encodes. Murder Obsession (which was released to DVD by the same label just a few months ago as an English-only edition) marks a substantial improvement over that release in pretty much every regard – the quality of the film itself excepted.

Presented in 1080p at slightly pictureboxed 1.85:1, Murder Obsession looks pretty good if not quite right on Blu-ray from Raro. Though uncredited as such this is undoubtedly another of LVR’s transfer jobs, as it exhibits precisely the same qualities as those previously known to have been done by them. No, this transfer doesn’t look like film. There’s a somewhat smudgy and DVNR-ish quality to the motion of the image, and while there is plenty of noise to be found there is not a speck of identifiable film grain in evidence. All that aside Murder Obsession retains a certain capacity to impress, offering tight contrast and vivid color where the photography allows for it. There is suspicious softness in places, and an undeniable waxiness to the image at times, but there are also moments of robust detail that are indeed impressive. While I’ve no doubt that a proper transfer from a less problematic post house could have resulted in an overall better image, I’m not sure Murder Obsession really demands it. For home video this looks just fine, and I can’t say that I’m disappointed.

The technical backing really squandered the potential of Raro’s Di Leo collection (granting a piddly 14.8 Mbps average video bitrate to a classic like Milano Calibro 9 is just shameful), and the specifications here have thankfully been beefed up substantially. Murder Obsession is actually available in two separate Mpeg-4 AVC encodes, one for the 92 minute English language cut and another for the 97 minute Italian (each is culled from the same transfer). The shorter cut receives less support, an average bitrate of 21.6 Mbps, and looks a tad softer for the trouble, with more artifacts to be found amongst the transfer’s noise. The Italian cut is, by contrast, quite strong, with its average bitrate of 28.6 Mbps supporting the visuals very well. There are still minor artifacts lurking, but nothing that distracted me in motion. Audio for each version receives a lossless DTS-HD MA 2.0 encode, with the English sounding substantially rougher all around (it sounds to be sourced from tape). The Italian arrives with optional newly-translated English subtitles.

Aside from the bonus English cut of the film the rest of the supplements proved of little interest to this reviewer. The best of the bunch is a 10 minute interview with effects man Sergio Stivaletti, who cut his teeth assisting fx artist Angelo Mattei on the film. Otherwise there’s a longer (22′) interview with Claudio Simonetti on the music of genre cinema, and a shorter (8′) interview with director Gabriele Albanesi (Ubaldo Terzani Horror Show) on the subject of Riccardo Freda. Rounding out the disc is a (very) brief tape-sourced deleted scene and a list of Blu-ray credits. The package is wonderfully designed, from the disc menu up, and comes with an 11 page booklet featuring a synopsis, an essay on the film by Fangoria editor Chris Alexander, and a short biography of writer / director Riccardo Freda.

And that’s it, I think. Murder Obsession receives an imperfect, but perfectly acceptable release from Raro Video USA. At the low price it currently commands ($15.99 shipped from Raro directly, or a dollar more through Amazon) those interested in the film are encouraged to indulge.

The Blu-ray screenshots in this article were taken as full resolution .png in Totem Movie Player, then compressed to .jpg format at a quality setting of 97% using the ImageMagick command line tool. All screenshots are from the more robustly encoded Italian cut of the film.



Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell

August 18th, 2011 | article by | No Comments »
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Year: 1978  Company: Zeitman-Landers-Roberts Productions / CBS   Runtime: 95′
Director: Curtis Harrington   Writers: Steven Karpf, Elinor Karpf   Cinematography: Gerald P. Finnerman
Music: Artie Kane  Cast: Richard Crenna, Yvette Mimeux, Kim Richards, Ike Eisenmann, Victor Jory,
Lou Frizzeli, Ken Kercheval, R. G. Armstrong, Martine Beswick, Bob Navarro, Lois Ursone, Jerry Fogel
Disc company: Media Blasters / Shriek Show   Video: 1080p 1.33:1    Audio: DTS-HD MA 2.0 English,
DTS-HD MA 2.0 Italian   Subtitles: None   Disc: BD50 (Region A)   Release Date: 06/28/2011
Order this disc now from Amazon.com

Produced for CBS television by Zeitman-Landers-Roberts Productions in 1978, Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell may well be one of the silliest of the multitude of demon-fueled horrors to follow in the wake of Rosemary’s Baby, The Exorcist and The Omen.  For my money it’s also one of the more amusing.  For the sake of full disclosure the devil of the title is not in fact the devil, but a barghest – a monstrous black dog from English folklore that here possesses a cute German Shepherd named Lucky.  I’d argue that it’s a distinction without a difference, however, as Devil Dog follows plenty of the familiar tropes of its successful theatrical predecessors.

The story, credited to Steven and Elinor Karpf (Gargoyles), is pretty ridiculous even by the rather low standards set by past devil-on-the-loose pictures.  Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell begins with some shady cultists (led by the lovely Martine Beswick, Prehistoric Women) raising a hell-beast from beyond to breed with a prize-worthy German Shepherd as part of an unbelievable scheme to spread their cult-y ways to middle America one demonic puppy at a time.  I suppose if this film teaches us anything it’s that you shouldn’t buy puppies from out the back of some creepy bastard’s (R. G. Armstrong!) rolling produce stand, but that’s precisely what little Bonnie and Charlie (Kim Richards and Ike Eisenmann, of Escape to and Return from Witch Mountain fame) do after they find that their old dog has been unceremoniously run over.

Parents Mike and Betty Barry (Richard Crenna and a still-gorgeous Yvette Mimeux) are happy to see the new puppy arrive, but stereotypical Latina-maid-with-supernatural-intuition Maria (Tina Menard, who made an impressive career out minor ethnic roles) knows that there’s more to the critter than meets the eye.  Unfortunately Maria is not long for this world, and before she can get anyone to take her concerns seriously she finds herself spontaneously combusting – a victim of the demon-puppy’s nefarious powers.  Believing the death to be just a horrible accident Mike and the family move on, but as the puppy grows ever stranger things begin to happen.  Neighbors die, the kids take a turn for the weird, and Betty becomes promiscuous, while Mike struggles to deal with the consequences.  Before long he realizes that it’s his lovable dog Lucky who’s to blame, leaving him no recourse but to travel to Ecuador (?!) in search of a solution to his other-worldly problem.

  
  
  

Director Curtis Harrington (Queen of Blood, Night Tide) was none too fond of Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell, a film he felt was too poorly written and under-financed to be a successful horror picture.  He approached the material with cool professionalism all the same, generating some genuine spookiness and suspense along the way.  Through montage alone he renders the possessed Lucky’s movement through a living room uncharacteristically unnerving, while a sequence in which Mike is willed by the dog to stick his hand into a whirring lawnmower blade maintains suspense in spite of its guaranteed-bloodless made-for-TV pedigree.

Otherwise, this small-screen spook fest is held together by the talent of its cast alone.  Richard Crenna is solid as an everyman out of his element, keeping his cool even as the Karpf’s teleplay takes a nose-dive into the absurd.   Crenna had some experience in battling goofy demonic forces by this point, of course, having rid a rural mansion of a pudgy and be-suited devil from a bright and foggy alternate dimension in The Evil earlier the same year.  Yvette Mimeux (Dark of the Sun, The Time Machine) gives another charming and sympathetic performance, even as the writing fails her.  So convincing is her loving housewife that it’s difficult to believe her turn for the wicked later in the film.  The supporting cast is as strong as the rest, from cultists Martine Beswick and R. G. Armstrong (Race With the Devil) to doomed neighbor Lou Frizzell (The Other) and Ecuadorian shaman Victor Jory (Cat-Women of the Moon).

It’s a pity, then, that a little more money wasn’t thrown Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell‘s way, as the crux of the story – the spectacular appearance of the eponymous creature in all its horrifying glory – is a failure of hilarious proportions.  Rather than pay for traditional composite effects work, the producers instead turned to the video technology of 1978 for a cheaper solution.  The results must be seen to believed, with Lucky transforming into a floating fluffy and glowing-eyed triceratops-looking thing that is, to be kind, less frightening than was perhaps intended.  At times it appears as though an especially awful ’80s metal video is invading a perfectly normal film.  As such the final confrontation between Crenna and the beast at a chemical works is rightly one of the most memorable moments of the film, even if it’s remembered for all the wrong reasons.

It’s easy to see why director Curtis Harrington never looked kindly upon his involvement in this production, but it’s really not so bad as all that.  The ridiculousness of the monster reveal lends the production plenty of schlock appeal, and the dramatics are all the more enjoyable for their silliness.  All in all this is a fun little diversion that’s more family friendly than the title would ever suggest, and those keen on creature features should find plenty to love.

  
  
  

I have no great confidence in video distributor Media Blasters after their handling of Zombi Holocaust, which may well be the worst-produced disc I’ve seen all year even without getting into the issues of the transfer, but I was still interested in seeing how well they might handle a domestic title for which dubious transfer practices abroad would not be an issue.  To that end I found their Blu-ray issue of Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell to be unexpectedly strong, leaving me to wonder why the rest of their high definition titles haven’t been handled in kind.

Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell looks surprisingly good here, transferred in 1080p at its native 1.33:1 aspect ratio.  The low-budget television production only rarely looks so, with the 35mm photography scaling nicely to HD.  Colors can appear a bit muted at times, but other than that there’s precious little to complain about.  Detail is at healthy levels throughout, with some close-ups looking quite exceptional, and contrast is consistently strong.  Film grain is always in evidence but isn’t overpowering, and the AVC encode at an average bitrate of 29.2 Mbps dutifully supports it.  Damage is visible in the form of speckling and debris, much of which appears to have been printed right into the film, but isn’t as heavy as I expected for a film of this budget and vintage.  The brief video-mastered effects scenes are a particularly ugly exception to the rest, with the 35mm source footage having been mastered on video, overlayed with the desired effects, and fianlly printed back to 35mm.  These scenes (there are two) present with more damage than the rest of the film, both the soft and fuzzy blips captured during the first film-to-video conversion and the tack-sharp dust and specks that emerged when the resulting video footage was transferred back to 35mm stock.  The interlacing artifacts and degraded detail and color in these sequences are built right into the source and, as awful as it may seem, look precisely as they should.

Compare and contrast: Facial detail of the excellent (1) and adorable (2) kind versus the absolute worst in vintage 1978 video mastering technology (3). That ungainly black crescent to the right in the final shot is in fact print damage captured in the video mastering process, while to the left of it is a razor-sharp speck produced when the footage was re-printed to film.  Weird stuff, but neat!

The primary audio option is an honest DTS-HD MA 2.0 English track that easily handles the original frills-free recording.  Dialogue and effects are clear, and aside from some hiss inherent to the original mix there’s nothing to complain about here.  I’d say it sounded better than I expected, and is likely as good as its going to get.  Accompanying the English track is a secondary DTS-HD MA 2.0 Italian dub which, aside from the hilarity that can be had from switching between the original English and the looped Italian, seems rather pointless.  There are no subtitles.

Supplements are duplicated from the earlier 2-disc DVD, but have been reformatted (rd: windowboxed) to fit a 16:9 frame.  The biggest draw is a so-called featurette on the making of the film, To the Devil a Dog (SD), that runs a whopping 73 minutes, and features input from producer Jerry Zeitman and stars Kim Richards and Ike Eisenmann.  Next up is a 15 minute audio interview with the late Curtis Harrington, to whom this disc is dedicated.  Next is a brief photo gallery of supporting player Martine Beswick, followed by an essay / interview with the actress that plays as a text scroll.  A promotional trailer for the feature and a handful of previews for other Media Blasters properties rounds out the on-disc material.

Well color me surprised.  With the inevitable disappointment of Media Blasters’ Burial Ground blu-ray looming (my copy arrives tomorrow) I was expecting nothing good from this, a disc I picked up simply because it was too cheap not to review it.  Needless to say Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell surpassed my non-existent expectations with room to spare, all the more so because MB actually managed to meet their street date for the title.  Soak in the success while it lasts – if only all of their releases were this good.

in conclusion
Film: Fun!  Video: Excellent –  Audio: Very Good   Supplements: Very Good
Harrumphs: No subtitles
Packaging: Standard Blu-ray case.
Final Words: Sure, it’s silly, but sincere performances coupled with a ridiculous script and some of the worst video-mastered effects in US television history make it more than worth your while.  I dig it!


Action Packed Double Feature (Dirty Mary Crazy Larry / Race With the Devil)

April 5th, 2011 | article by | 3 Comments »
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Dirty Mary Crazy Larry – Year: 1974   Company: 20th Century Fox   Runtime: 93′
Director: John Hough   Writers: Leigh Chapman, Antonio Santean, James H. Nicholson, Richard Unekis
Cast: Peter Fonda, Susan George, Adam Roarke, Vic Morror, Kenneth Tobey, Roddy McDowall, Eugene Daniels
Race With the Devil – Year: 1975   Company: 20th Century Fox   Runtime: 88′
Director: Jack Starrett   Writers: Lee Frost, Wes Bishop   Music: Leonard Rosenman
Cast: Peter Fonda, Warren Oates, Loretta Swit, Lara Parker, R.G. Armstrong, Clay Tanner, Carol Blodgett
Disc company: Shout! Factory   Video: 480p (1.85:1)   Audio: Dolby Digital 5.1 English (DMCL only),
Dolby Digital 2.0 English (DMCL and RWTD)   Subtitles: None   Disc: 2 x DVD 9   Release Date: 04/12/2011
Product link: Amazon.com Reviewed from a screener provided by Shout! Factory LLC.

Loosely adapted from the novel The Chase (also published under the titles Pursuit and Dirty Mary Crazy Larry) by Richard Unekis, Dirty Mary Crazy Larry follows the exploits of aspiring NASCAR driver Larry and mechanic Deke who, tired of killing time in the amateur racing circuit, decide to take an illegal shortcut to fame and fortune.  The plan is simple: hit a rural grocery store on the morning of their cash delivery and escape into a maze of road and exits to the south.  The robbery goes off with nary a hitch, with threats against the store manager’s family ensuring that the would-be racers have ample time to escape.

Deke and Larry think of everything – everything, that is, except Mary, Larry’s headstrong one night stand from the evening before the robbery.  Looking for a bit of excitement in her dull life, Mary insinuates herself into the duo’s escape, proving to be as much a challenge to the success of the operation as grizzled cop Vic Morrow and his army of highway patrolmen.

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Blood Orgy of the She Devils

April 2nd, 2010 | article by | No Comments »
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company: Occult See
year: 1972
runtime: 76′
country: USA
director: Ted V. Mikels
cast: Lila Zaborin, Victor Izay,
Tom Pace, Leslie McRae,
William Bagdad
writer: Ted V. Mikels
order this film from Amazon.com

Professional witch Mara (Lila Zaborin) has quite a set-up in her dreamy Californian country palace. Apart from leading a coven of scantily-clad women, a black drummer and her shaggy gift from Satan, Toruke (William Bagdad), in interpretive dance orgies with added human sacrifice, she also works as a medium, helps people experience the deaths of their past incarnations and reads cards. Probably all in the name of finding new female members and male victims for her dance coven, but who really knows what’s going on in her mind (director Ted V. Mikels certainly doesn’t)?

And that’s still not everything the good woman does for a living. Mara also hires her black magical powers out to some shady customers looking for a very special professional killer to get rid of the UN ambassador for Rhodesia. It seems that talking to demons and drowning a photo in a very large cognac glass is all that is needed to make the poor guy croak.

It is a little unfortunate for Mara and Toruke that her clients in crime don’t like the thought of having any living accessories to their crimes and shoot the two (and a random coven member) dead. That’s only a minor set-back for Mara, though. Shortly after being killed, she just turns into a green mist and then into an adorable black cat and revives Toruke (no luck for the poor coven member) by talking to him. It does not take long until her would-be killers get a taste of their own medicine through more entertaining and practical magickal workings.

While all this has been going on, the film has also treated us to the adventures of two very old students, Mark (Tom Pace) and Lorraine (Leslie McRae, or however her name was spelt that week). They are getting quite impressed by the witch, and even the raised eyebrows of their teacher, white magician Dr. Helsford (Victor Izay), can’t keep them away from the witch’s house.


This can only end in a climactic black (dancing) sabbath, an anti-climactic magical duel and the death of a rubber bat.

I had been able to protect myself from the siren song of the films of Ted V. Mikels for quite some time, but – like it happens in the film for Mark and Lorraine – it is now too late to save my soul from Mikels’ (probably diabolical) influence. As is the case with the director’s much more mean-spirited brother in weirdly obsessive and strangely compulsive no-budget film Andy Milligan, followers of mainstream conceptions of palatable filmmaking need not apply when it comes to Mikels’ work; sane people shouldn’t either.

They’d probably be repelled by the absence of narrative logic, the static camera work, the stilted and at times very silly dialogue, and the decidedly non-actorly acting, anyway. It is probably for the better.

Obviously, the less depraved movie fan’s loss is my gain. The acting might be bad, but I found it utterly enjoyable and oh so very enthusiastic. Especially Lila Zaborin as main witch Mara lays it on as thick as her own make-up, which is of course absolutely fitting for someone playing a super witch with the awesome power of incessantly blabbering occult nonsense. When I think about the sort of people active in the guru biz in the real world, I’m not even sure anymore that what Zaborin does here should be called over-acting. After all, cult leaders aren’t usually working their mojo by being subtle.


While it is true that Blood Orgy doesn’t have much internal logic or sensible plot progression (oh, alright, I’ll be honest, the film doesn’t have a plot at all!), there still is a lot of stuff happening on screen. When Mikels isn’t showing us a pop version of a dance-crazy black sabbath as choreographed by Bob Fosse’s acid-loving spiritual twin, he delights us with other occult cheese of the highest quality, with one moment more absurd than the one that came before. The director also shows an excellent hand at filling his film with telling (that is to say, very odd) details, like the Winnetou-like Hollywood-Injun speak Mara’s main spirit guide speaks in with utter disregard of good taste or the poor actors who have to react to her without falling over laughing. These moments of very special early 70s occultism mania are interrupted by “interesting” discussions about witchcraft, all probably taken verbatim from a cheap non-fiction paperback about the subject Mikels bought in a grocery store, and acted out in the puzzled tones of people who haven’t the slightest clue what they are talking about and most assuredly don’t know half of the words they are using.

To make the film even more fantastic, there are also hypnotic regression sequences Mikels cleverly uses to pad his film out to the required running time and add a little bit of the important spice of regular violence to it. Sure, these scenes only derail the plodding narrative further, but how could I complain about a bunch of very white, probably middle-class Californians pretending to be Native Americans and torturing Tom Pace to death?

And as if all this weren’t enough, the movie also features (and I quote) “very special electronic music” composed by Carl Zittrer, the man who is also responsible for the excellent abuse of electronic devices in the films of Bob Clark. His score here consists of random warbling noises of the highest order of random warbliness and is therefore utterly perfect for the film it belongs to.

I suspect that if you have any interest in the products of the late 60s/early 70s obsession with the occult, or have even a little love for cheap-skate weirdo filmmaking (and if not, why are you reading this, unless you’re my mum?), Blood Orgy of the She Devils will be right up your alley. In other words, this damn thing looks like it was made just for me.

For more bizarre movie goodness, be sure
to visit Denis’ excellent review blog The Horror!?