Thursday, April 17, 2014

Junior (Jim Hanley, 1985)

After being harassed by the local sheriff of a small seaside town, two female ex-cons hoping to start over in said small seaside town decide that it's probably a good idea to change out of their hooker clothes. I don't recall which one said it to be exact (it was most likely the brunette, since she was dressed sluttier than her blonde friend). But the second one of them implies that they should start dressing more conservatively, I immediately dropped to my knees, raised my arms in the air (clenching my fists along the way), looked up at the ceiling and yelled, "Fuck!!!!" in an overly dramatic fashion. Of course, as I soon found out, this pathetic, shameful display was completely unnecessary. But during those fleeting moments after the suggestion to dress less whore-like was put out there, my mind was racing. I mean, I'm not interested in watching a film about two attractive, sensibly dressed women who just got out of jail. I don't care if the film, which, by the way, is called Junior (a.k.a. Hot Water and A Cut Above), features a mentally unbalanced Jeremy Ratchford wielding a chainsaw in an unorthodox manner, this isn't what I signed up for (truth be told, chainsaws in movies are rarely ever used in an orthodox manner, it's a fact, look it up). The way they were dressed when they got out of prison was perfectly fine, I thought to myself, as these tarty-looking hosebeasts strutted down the street free women at the beginning of the film.

To make things even better, the women, K.C. (Suzanne DeLaurentiis) and Jo (Linda Singer), are confronted by a scumbag in a convertible. How does that make it better, you ask? I was just about to get to that part. Judging by the way he roughed up K.C., I'm guessing he's her pimp (he slaps her around like a rag doll). Or maybe he was a drug dealer? Yeah, that makes sense, he did, after all, shove K.C.'s face into a pile of cocaine on the hood of his car. Pimp, drug dealer or both, it doesn't matter. What does matter is, these chicks are both skanks and they both have criminal records. (Um, those are good things?) What are you fucking kidding? Of course they're good things.

As almost everyone knows, I'm only interested in dating women who have criminal records. And the same logic applies to the movies I watch. The prospect of watching a film that boasts women who aren't felons makes me physically ill. I don't care if you're caught smuggling hashish in your pussy or found guilty of poisoning the elderly, you had better done something illegal, or else I ain't wooing or watching your ass. It's that simple. So, what you waiting for? Go out and commit a crime, so we can get this party started.

While I could have used a scene that showed what life was like for K.C., a tough as nails brunette, and Jo, a tough as nails blonde, in the pokey, the film, nonetheless, opens with them being released from prison. Who knows what they were in for, but by the looks of their clothes, I would say they were in for prostitution. But then again, prostitutes don't really get lengthy prison sentences. No, I would say it was something drug related. Which makes sense, as we have already established that the guy who slaps K.C. around after they get out is a pimp/drug dealer.

Speaking of which, just as I was about to start admiring the structural fortitude of K.C.'s ensemble (black pantyhose paired with a gold lame jacket), along comes this pimp/drug dealer in a convertible. You have to give up to Jo for trying to come the aide of K.C., who's currently being repeatedly slapped across the face. However, she really needs to work on her technique, as none of her blows are causing the pimp/drug dealer to stop was he's doing. Just when the pimp/drug dealer thinks he's subdued K.C., she stabs him the right nostril with some kind of cocaine pendant, and Jo, who's already in the driver's seat, hits the gas, and the two are on their way.

Well, well, well, would you lookie here, it would seem that pimp boy keeps a loaded shotgun in his car; I'm no expert when it comes to foreshadowing, but I think their newly acquired shotgun should come in handy as the film progresses.

Driving through the countryside, K.C. and Jo takes turns behind the wheel. You know what that means, don't you? (Um, let me guess, K.C.'s pantyhose adorned thighs are going to periodically brush up against the steering wheel, causing you to feel envy towards yet another inanimate object that appears in a Canuxploitation/Hicksploitation film from the mid-1980s?) Damn, you're good.

Not one to be overshadowed in the sexy department, Jo volunteers to give a blow job to a gas station attendant who has taken the their car keys hostage. Exiting the convertible with a surge of legginess, Jo, utilizing the slit on the back her short blue skirt for added mobility, saunters into the garage and prepares to feast on his junk. (She's not really going to blow him, is she?) Don't be silly, Jo's got class and dignity. Wait a minute, no she doesn't. Either way, her mouth has no intention of touching his stupid-looking dick (it's true, I didn't see his dick, but trust me, I bet it looks stupid).

Realizing that Jo took some of her thunder away in the previous scene, K.C. decides the best way to get some of it back is stick her butt out while working on their car's engine. The idea, I think, is to let all the other motorists get a nice look at what she's got going on in her junk drawer. And given that it's encased in jet black pantyhose and a pvc leotard, her ass is actually listed in the official driver's handbook as a road hazard.

You might find this hard to believe, but Junior isn't about two leggy ex-cons driving cross country. I wish it was, but it isn't. No, what it's really about is two leggy ex-cons battling a mentally unstable Mama's boy named–you guessed it–Junior.

The leggy ex-cons plan on fixing up a rundown marina. Only problem being, the locals, including the aforementioned Junior (Jeremy Ratchford), are not too thrilled with the idea of a couple of trashy sluts (their words, not mine) defiling their quiet, soggy armpit of a town. Oh, and don't expect local law enforcement to be on their side, as the unnamed Sheriff (Ken Roberts) is the one leading the charge to get rid of these leggy outsiders (I guess they have something against attractive, non-native women with shapely legs).

Wearing a fedora and red suspenders, Junior ups the ante each time he harasses K.C. and Jo at the marina. And each time he's done harassing them, he consults his deranged-looking mother.

The most memorable of Junior's harassment-based forays is when Junior attacks Sally (Alanne Perry), a local woman K.C. and Jo befriend, with a chainsaw. However, my favourite harassment-based foray has to be the scene where Junior and K.C. square off against one another in motorboats. After besting Junior (his flimsy boat was no match K.C.'s boat - it has a powerful souped up engine - that she installed herself), a bunch of Junior's redneck pals show up and surround K.C.'s boat. Desperate, K.C. removes her bumble bee print bikini top, stuffs it into a bottle of petrel, lights it and throws it at one of the boats, causing it to burst into flames.

(Hold up, are you saying K.C. used her bumble bee print bikini top as the wick for her makeshift Molotov cocktail?) Yep. (I think I'm in love.) And get this, she threatens to use her bumble bee print bikini bottoms for her next Molotov cocktail. When the other rednecks notice K.C. gesturing toward her bumble bee print bikini bottoms, as if to say, I've got another fiery cocktail with your names on it, they get the hell out of there.

To celebrate her victory over Junior, K.C. shows off her legs in an act of pure, unadulterated legginess (kick them stems, you sassy temptress, you). Actually, the real celebration takes place when K.C. takes the cock attached to Bud (Michael McKeever) and uses it as her own personal sex toy. Who's Bud, you ask? He's a redneck K.C. managed to lure away from the redneck lifestyle (it wasn't that hard given that K.C. is foxy as all get out).

If you're wondering where Jo's sex toy is at. Look no further than the crotch belonging to Luke (Cotton Mather), a plant-loving singer-songwriter who lives on a house boat.

Even though the film is clearly Canadian (it was shot just outside Montreal), it doesn't pretend to American either. In a shrewd move, the film lacks any references to geography. Nor does it feature any nationalistic symbols. This gives the film a neutral, almost otherworldly vibe. It's almost as if it doesn't place on Earth. Seriously, the film features two leggy chicks performing manual labour in bikinis. If that's not otherworldly, I don't know what is.

Oh, and if the name "Linda Singer" sounds familiar, it might be because she's the same Linda Singer who performs on "Leather High" by Nudimension, a Quebec new wave/synthpop group.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Fantom Kiler 2 (Roman Nowicki, 1999)

Turn on the smoke machine and dust off your Polish-English phrase book, it's time once again to enter the shadowy, clothes-optional realm of... the Fantom Kiler. (Wait, didn't you already watch and review that movie?) You see... (Oh no, don't tell me, they made a sequel, didn't they?) Yep, they most certainly did. That's right, turnip lovers, I finally decided to get off my freshly shaven ass/taint and tackle Fantom Kiler 2 with the full-force of my fucking face. Lacking the rectal wooden spoon antics, janitors with fake mustaches, nonsensical dialogue and the naked barbed-wire fence traversing that made the first film such a goofy delight, writer-director Roman Nowicki is all business in this time around. Resembling a real horror film at times (the key phrase there being "at times"), part two has the Polish police investigating a string of grisly prostitute murders. I know, Polish police investigating crimes, what is this, Polish Law and Order? Well, I don't know about that (doink doink), but it does feel like that season three episode of Miami Vice where a crazed Vietnam vet is killing dark-haired prostitutes with a ka-bar. (You mean, "The Savage," a.k.a. "Duty and Honour"?) Yeah, that's the one. If that particular episode taught us anything (besides the fact that Sonny Crockett looks damn good a dark teal sports coat), it's that in order to catch a serial killer who is butchering prostitutes, your wisest course of action is to entrap them by using live bait.

Since the killer seems to be only targeting female prostitutes, that rules out using a male police officer as bait. No, what Detective Uri Polanski needs to do is enlist the help of a female police officer, a shapely female police officer. And that's where Officer Kinska (Katarzyna Zelnik) comes in.

Since the scene where Kinska gets tarted up is still a ways away, let's lavish some praise on the gorgeous Liliana Cybulska in the meantime, shall we?

After listening to some industrial-sounding techno music and enduring a brief scene where the detectives explain what happened in the first flick, we get our first taste of the film's most attractive cast member. Now, the majority of you will remember that I thought Eliza Borecka was the most attractive woman who appeared in the first movie. But not anymore. For one thing, she doesn't wander around the woods in nothing but a pair of chunky black heels. Nor does she traverse any barbed wire fences in the buff. Boo!

Smoking a cigarette in the misty part of town just outside of town, Ramona (Liliana Cybulska), who is wearing is a red wig and a short blue skirt, is waiting for someone to come by and purchase a reasonably priced ticket to ride her pulsating Polish pussy all the way to Poundtown, population, your Polish penis. Suddenly, another Polish prostitute (Magda Szymborska) shows up and tells Ramona a sob story about how she needs to turn tricks to support her family. When the last customer of the evening comes by, Ramoma, a seasoned whore, allows the neophyte sex worker to get in the car.

Little does she know, but Ramona, the self-proclaimed "Patron Saint of Prostitutes," will never see that Polish prostitute alive again.

Brought in for questioning, Ramona and Det. Polanski have a chat. Since the inside of the police station is not as misty as the misty part of town just outside of town, we get some great shots of Ramona's outfit. Wearing a short black fur coat, a pink top, white nylons and black high-heel boots, Ramona plops down on the chair in front of Uri's desk.

After arguing about the merits of prostitution, Ramona decides to have some fun with the humourless detective. Noticing that he can't stop looking at her legs, Ramona calls out Uri's gratuitous gam gandering the only way she knows how.

Lifting up her legs and placing them on his desk with a playful thud, Ramona proceeds to entice the detective by stroking her calves in a seductive manner.

Boasting of their softness like a proud parent, Ramona is relentless when it comes to wielding her legs for erotic purposes. Hiding behind her knees in the most sheepish fashion ever to be recorded on film or video, the wide-eyed Polish prostitute continues to do so until Uri explodes with a weird mix of  ecstasy and frustration.

Okay, and... I'm done. Well, that was a fun movie. Who wants to get rhubarb pie? What do you mean it isn't over? I don't care if it's not over. There's no way Roman Nowicki can top the leg-tastic splendour that is the scene where Romana, the self-proclaimed Patron Saint of Prostitutes, turns a misogynist fucktard into a quivering bowl of impotent molasses simply by caressing her knees.

Sure, I'm sort of curious to see him try. But throwing one scene after another at us that involve naked chicks with fake-looking tits covered in oil being chased by a faceless killer isn't exactly going to cut it. That's true, I don't know if every scene that takes place after Pani Cybulska's stem show is going to play out this way. However, the chances they might, given the franchises oily naked chicks being chased pedigree, are pretty freakin' high.

What's that? Fine, I'll continue to type words about this movie. But just to let you know, my heart's not in it. Just kidding, my heart's always in it, especially when it comes to movies that shamelessly sport leggy Polish chicks pretending to be prostitutes.

(C'mon, it's not that grim, is it? I mean, word on the street is, Katarzyna Zelnik wears a belly chain and strappy black heels at one point.) Yeah, she does. But get this, that's all she wears. (How is exactly is that a bad thing?) Um, hello? I watch movies to see hot chicks in clothes (this not a porn blog, this is a fashion blog!). Where have you been for the past twenty years? Everybody knows this. So, anyway, the prospect of watching a movie that seems obsessed with filming oiled up naked women being stabbed isn't all that inviting... I mean, enticing.

Nonetheless, Katarzyna Zelnik's Officer Kinska is dressed up as a prostitute and sent out into the street. What the... Since when has a coat, a belly chain, and a pair of strappy heels been considered dressing up as a prostitute? Where are the fishnet stockings, the red leather mini-skirt, the zebra print top and the fingerless opera gloves? And don't give me this nonsense about the police being on a tight budget. I want to see Katarzyna's legs in fishnet stockings and I want to see them now! Since the film was made some time in the late 1990s, my demand, unfortunately, was not even close to being met.

Even so, let that be a lesson to all you young filmmakers out there, make sure your prostitutes are dressed like first-rate whores.

Anyway, the idea is to lure the killer out in the open and then arrest him when he tries to harm the undercover Kinska. Using a radio to keep in contact with her, Uri constantly badgers Linska, telling to act more slutty. Sitting next to Uri is Ramona, who is there to tell him when she sees the killer's car. Other than the camera pan that went up the entirety of Katarzyna's body, the stake out since is overlong and dull (Ramona seems to think so too as she yawns several times over the course of the stake out scene).

When the killer finally does get around to stabbing someone, the wounds caused by the retractable knife are non-existent. In other words, the special effects are downright  laughable. That being said, the scene where a real prostitute is slashed in the vagina by a large knife with a serrated blade was actually well done, gore-wise. And not only that, the actress playing the real prostitute, Natasza something, is wearing black stockings. So, yeah, the film manages to get at least one thing right.

Will I be watching part three? Oh, how do I know there's a part? Trust me, there's a part three. To answer my own question, it depends. 1) Are the women wearing clothes at any given time? And 2) Is the naturally attractive Liliana Cybulska in it? If part three manages to answer these two questions to my satisfaction, I might watch it.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

The Hot Nights of Linda (Jess Franco, 1975)

You're initial thought might be, as you begin to enjoy Jess Franco's The Hot Nights of Night (a.k.a. But Who Raped Linda?), how much longer do we have to watch Alice Arno–who is, to the best of my knowledge, not wearing nylons on her shapely, Arno-ian legs–walk around Paris, France in a bulky winter coat? However, once she has finished walking around Paris, France and arrives at the location of her new job, you will no doubt start to miss the streets of Paris, France. In fact, you will probably wish they would cut to anywhere in the world after you have spent a day or two with the Steiner family in their Greek-style castle/home on the ocean, or was it on the sea? No matter, the film, like the best Jess Franco's films, manages to create a world unto itself. You see, by ignoring what's going on beyond the walls of the film's primary location, the film slowly begins to develop its own unique ecosystem. And if, say, you were to own a noodle factory similar to mine, the first thought you would have is: Why can't I get a job at a Greek-style castle/home where a nympho-virgin prances about in black stockings and where said nympho-virgins eat penis-shaped fruit in an erotic fashion? And after that thought had subsided, your second would most likely be: Are the women in this film writhing on their beds in order to escape their dreary existences or are their backs simply itchy?

First of all, there's nothing dreary about living in a Greek-style castle/home with a nympho-virgin. (Yeah, maybe for you, but what about the nympho-virgin? Don't you think she wants more out of life?) And secondly, you're kinda right. They do want to escape. And best way to do so is to grind your naked body into the bed your currently lying on.

(Are you sure that's the best way? I mean, wouldn't the front door be a more effective way to escape?) It's true, doors are a terrific root to go when trying to leave somewhere (as someone who has used doors all his life, I can attest that what this person just said is indeed a factual statement), but The Hot Nights of Linda isn't about providing easy ways out, it's a... (Wait, let me guess, is it a psycho-sexual maelstrom of perverted proportions?) Hell yeah. That's exactly what is.

Let's see how that looks when written out as a semi-proper sentence: "The Hot Nights of Linda is a psycho-sexual maelstrom of perverted proportions." - Yum-Yum, House of Self-Indulgence

Oh, yeah. We have a winner. Put that sucker on the box, baby. Do it. What are you waiting for?

What do you mean Severin Films isn't going to put that quote on the back of their handsomely produced The Hot Nights of Linda Blu-Ray + DVD Combo Pack? You're not going to come across a better blurb than that. What's that? Uh-uh, I see. Well, it would seem the reason my quote is nowhere to found on the artwork of the combo pack is because it's already in stores. Meaning, I'm a little too late. *sniff*

Anyway, getting back to grinding and writhing. Even though it's physically impossible to grind your way to freedom by writhing on your bed without any clothes on, the message you are sending to the world is loud and clear.

While the primary purpose for the all writhing is no doubt connected to the desire to flee, you could argue that a large chunk of the writhing has a lot to do with pent-up sexual frustration. Speaking from personal experience, whenever I find myself writhing in the nude, it usually has nothing to do with wanting to getaway and everything to do with heterosexual ineptitude.

(Enough about writhing, what's this film actually about and is it any good?) Uh, yeah, about that. Believe or not, but those are some pretty tough questions you're asking there, budski. I mean, I could try to explain the film's plot. But then again, I don't want to damage my brain while doing so. As for being good. What does "good" even mean? Seriously, can you tell me?

(I'm sorry, pal. I can't help you there. What I can tell you is, if you patiently wade through this film's...) "psycho-sexual maelstrom of perverted proportions"? (Yeah, that... you'll be generously rewarded with the sight of Lina Romay sunbathing in the nude, Lina Romay peeling and sort of eating a banana, and Lina Romay putting on black stockings--roll them up into a little ball and slip them onto your sturdy legs, you brown-eyed harlot.)

If you watch Les Nuits Brûlantes de Linda, a rare cut of the film that comes with the Severin Films Blu-Ray + DVD Combo Pack (limited to the first 2500 copies), you will be generously rewarded with the sight of Lina Romay sucking on some retards uncut cock, Lina Romay performing cunnilingus on a couple of well-made cunts, and Lina Romay allowing the genitals attached to some retard spew their probably retarded load all over her stomach. Oh, and when I say, "retard" and "retarded," I don't mean it in a Lindsay Lohan sort of way, the retard in question is actually retarded.

The best part about this particular cut of the film is the fact that the scene where Lina Romay puts on black stockings includes some garter belt adjustment--the softcore version omits the garter belt adjustment scene all-together. (Are you sure the best part of this particular cut wasn't the sight of Lina Romay wiping up a dollop of the retard's snot-like jizz with her hand and proceeding to consume with her mouth?) Oh, I'm sure. It should go without saying, but garter belt adjustment is way hotter than eating pearly droplets of spunk.

In order to not cause any unnecessary confusion, I'll stick to referencing to the softcore cut of the film from now on. Even though, deep down, I kinda prefer the hardcore version. (Are you sure you want to do that? I mean, Lina Romay rapes her invalid cousin with a banana in the hardcore version.) A banana, eh? You know what? I'll mention both. Let unnecessary confusion reign!

If you're wondering where Alice Arno fits in all this... What's that? You weren't wondering that. I see. Well, either way, she plays Marie-France Bertrand, and she gets a job working as a nurse/teacher at the home of Radic Steiner (Paul Muller), who lives with his invalid daughter Linda (Verónica Llimera from Tombs of the Blind Dead), his sex maniac niece Olivia (Lina Romay) and Abdul (Pierre Taylou), their retarded houseboy.

Since the sex scenes in the non-hardcore don't take up as much time, the running time needs to be padded with filler. And that's where a photographer (Catherine Lafferière, who played the sex-crazed mental patient in black hold up stockings in Lorna the Exorcist) and a detective (Richard Bigotini) come in. They appear onscreen every now and then. But don't ask me what their connection to the main plot of the film is, cause I haven't the slightest idea. Well, that's not entirely true, I have a general idea, but it's not really worth getting into.

The only aspect of this subplot that held my interest was when we get a Jess Franco orchestrated close up of Catherine Lafferière's creamy thighs as she is attempting to climb a fence.

Highlights of the softcore version include: the scene where Alice Arno meets Lina Romay for the very first time. Filing her toenails, smoking a cigarette, and drinking Champagne (the girl knows how to multitask), Lina tells Alice that life in this town is monotonous and dull (hence the reason she writhes so much). What makes the scene so great is that Lina and Alice stare at each with a fiery intensity.

You gotta love the film noirish scene where Lina and Alice chat while smoking.

And the scene where Lina, who is wearing black boots, toys with Abdul by peeling a banana in a–you guessed it–erotic manner. You probably already know this, but Lina Romay does everything in this movie in a manner that could be construed as erotic. (Everything?) Yeah, you heard me, everything.

These three scenes are not in the hardcore version, so... enjoy them, I guess, because nothing in the hardcore version comes close to topping them in terms of  non-threatening titillation.

My only complaint, besides the boring bits, is the fact that the lovely Monica Swinn's part as Lorna, Paul Muller's dead wife, is so skimpy. There's a scene where she is having straightforward bedroom intercourse with her lover while wearing back hold up stockings, but the lighting is so dark, you can't really appreciate the shape of Monica's Jess Franco-approved curves.