If you want me to grin while nodding approvingly, or even smirk while nodding approvingly, during the act of watching your motion picture, it would be in your own best interest to fill the screen with plenty of low level camera angles. I know, you're thinking to yourself: What could possibly happen if I [the director] failed to include any low angle camera angles in my movie? What could possibly happen? I'll tell what...could possibly happen. Nothing, that's what. While that doesn't sound so bad. It does mean I won't be grinning/smirking while nodding in a manner that could best be described as "approvingly" as I watch your movie. Film directors the world over are dying to get my toothy nod of approval, and Aussie filmmaker Stuart Simpson has decided to make El Monstro Del Mar! in a veiled attempt to illicit positive reinforcement via the movement of my head. Does he succeed? Well, even though I'll try–over the course of the next twenty-five or so paragraphs–to employ a series of words–arranged in a fashion that will hopefully be legible–explaining whether or not he was successful, the act of simply scrolling through the pictures that I painstakingly selected to represent the visual bouquet that is this movie will give you a pretty good idea as to where this film's head is at. If you need to scroll through the pictures a second time, please, feel free to do so. I'll wait. Did you see the tall woman in the black fishnet pantyhose? You did? Excellent. Okay, are you sitting down? She's in almost every scene. And get this, she never takes them off. Takes what off, you ask? Oh, what's that, you didn't ask? Silly me. Of course you didn't. And why would you? It's obvious I'm still talking about fishnet pantyhose. Stay focused.
Was I a tad disappointed by the fact that the legs attached to other three women in the movie weren't adorned in a similar style? No, not really. And I'll tell you why. You see, Nelli Scarlet has serious gams. Meaning, she has the leg-based sex appeal of at least four women combined. Are they that serious? You better believe they are. As someone who spent the last four days thinking about nothing but her creamy thighs, I think I can safely say that they were carved and sculptured to perfection by thigh-making artisans. And the unholy tightness of the fishnet pantyhose they were constantly ensnared in only managed to make them even more mouth-watering.
Glancing occasionally over what I have written so far, it might seem like I'm some sort of perverted weirdo with an irrational fixation with women's legs. When, in reality, the exact opposite is true. Which brings me back to low level camera angles I alluded to earlier. Of course, I have no way knowing how a so-called "normal mind" will react to the images this film puts out there on a semi-regular basis. But I've got to believe that even they would agree that this film is as leg-obsessed as your average Jess Franco film. It's that leggy, eh? I'd even go as far as to say that it's more leggy. Okay, now you're talking crazy. No, seriously. Check out the amount of low level (i.e. leg-friendly) camera angles in this film, it's ridiculous.
Now, when things first get underway, I thought I'd unwittingly walked into a tribute to Russ Meyer, as the film's tough chicks in the desert motif had a definite Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! vibe to it. Shot in black and white, El Monstro Del Mar! in the early going has a definite Russ Meyer vibe to it. Except, instead of shot after shot of ample breasts being bandied about with reckless, flimsy bra strap compromising abandon, the first thing to appear on-screen are a couple of tight calves jutting out from a pair of black denim Capri pants. Even though the film has just gotten underway, the approving nods are already starting to raise and lower their pretty little heads.
The tight calves in question are attached to a scrappy chick named Blondie (Karli Madden), the most impulsive member of a trio of murdering hellcats. Leaning against a car in a manner that clearly accentuates her calves, Blondie seems bored. Noticing this, Beretta (Nelli Scarlet), a vision of loveliness with didactic thighs, decides to pop a cassette into the car's tape player. While the music wakes Blondie out of her funk, Beretta had no idea it would lead her to start dancing on the hood of her car. But then again, she should know this about Blondie; after all, she is impulsive.
What's the bang-tastic Snowball (Kate Watts) doing during all this, you ask? She's just chilling in the backseat.
If Blondie's calves are tight, and Beretta's thighs are didactic, what did you take away from Snowball's legs? Even though I'm asking myself this question, I have to say, as far as questions go, it's pretty awesome. Anyway, getting back to Snowball's legs. What did I take away from her legs? Let's see. I want to lick her knees. So, what you're saying is, you found Snowball's knees to be lickable? Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying.
Tight calves, didactic thighs, lickable knees. I don't know 'bout you, but I think this film is going to be a real winner. And get this, the opening credits haven't even started yet. Oh, boy. I have a feeling El Monstro Del Mar! is going to wipe the floor with me.
Even I'll admit, something has got to happen, and happen fast. 'Cause I'm in no mood to watch three heavily tattooed chicks hang out in the Australian Outback for ninety minutes straight. Thankfully, a couple of blokes show up just in the nick of time to offer the ladies some roadside assistance. Or, I should say, a couple of blokes show up to offer the blood coursing through their necks. Are you implying that I'm about to be drenched in arterial spray? I guess I am. Oh, goodie. I love arterial spray. It's true, the two blokes don't exactly "offer" them the blood coursing through their necks, but that doesn't stop the ladies from taking it anyway.
As their blood starts to spew all over the hood and dashboard of Beretta's car, the film switches from black and white to colour.
Dumping their bodies behind a tree, Beretta, Blondie and Snowball hop in their new car and continue on their not-so merry way. As I watched the blokes struggle to come to grips with the fact that their throats had just been cut, I thought to myself: That was a tad harsh. I'm no human behaviour expert, but they seemed pretty harmless to me. However, as we'll soon find out, thanks to an up coming flashback sequence, Beretta, Blondie and Snowballs are psychopaths. They can't be. I mean, look at Beretta. She is clearly wearing a black cowboy shirt (one with western-style flourishes on the shoulders). So? Well, it's been my experience that people who wear black cowboy shirts are usually some of the most well-balanced individuals society has to offer. You don't say? It's true, ask anyone.
Arriving at their seaside destination (a seaside home/shack that belongs to a friend), Blondie and Snowball decide to go for a quick swim. And, yes, you're absolutely right to assume that I was annoyed by the fact that Beretta chose not to join the others in the water. While watching her friend's pale, overly tattooed bodies flail around in the water, Beretta notices an old man in a wheelchair (Norman Yemm) giving her the stink-eye. It turns out the old man wasn't giving Beretta the stink-eye, that's just his everyday expression. Nonetheless, the old man is just as annoyed by their loud, water splashing antics as I was by the fact that Beretta's didactic thighs remained dry.
Muttering to himself, "Bloody girls muck everything up," the old man is joined by his granddaughter Hannah (Kyrie Capri), who has just come home from school; her gingham style school uniform, by the way, looked like something you might see in a women's prison film. When Blondie overhears some of the old man's mutterings, she nearly looses it. Clenching her fists, Blondie is about to beat the old man to death, when Beretta steps in at the last minute. It would seem that nothing happens unless Beretta wants it to. In other words, she's large and in charge.
As the freckle-faced Hannah, who's just as leggy as those, to quote the old man, "bloody girls," is talking about reverse mermaids with her boyfriend James (David Gannon), Beretta, Blondie and Snowball are drinking beer, sitting cross-legged in fishnet pantyhose, playing loud music, and doing cocaine in their seaside shack.
In the film's hottest moment, Beretta licks the beer she spilled on Snowball's foot.
Even though she instructed her to do so, the look of surprise on Snowball's face (a face that boasts a small sexy scar) when Beretta grabs her beer soaked foot and begin to lick it was beyond awesome.
When the old man sends Hannah over to tell those "bloody girls" to be quiet, he doesn't realize yet, but has set in motion a series of events that will lead to his granddaughter's spiritual awaking. Told all her life to stay out of the water, Hannah, thanks to corrupting influence of Beretta, Blondie and Snowball, decides to go in anyway. However, as we'll soon find out, the old man has good reason to want to keep his granddaughter out of the water, as it's home to a large, bloodthirsty sea creature.
A tender coming of age story, a gory monster movie, a cautionary tale about water safety, and a veiled instructional film on how to shoot trashy chicks from angles that cause one to produce cinematic works of leggy importance all rolled into one, El Monstro Del Mar! is campy, deranged, violent, titillating fun. Let me put it another way: If you like to watch films that feature temperamental women with sturdy thighs and taut calves crouching in the vicinity of haphazardly strewn body parts, then you need to see this movie.
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