The Mad Foxes (Paul Grau, 1982)

It's about time I watched a movie that is not only life affirming, but one that is spiritually enlightening as well. And, yes, I am fully aware that I'm currently talking about The Mad Foxes (a.k.a. Los violadores), a film that contains more exploding uncircumcised penises than you can shake a pair of bloodstained hedge clippers at. What can I say? If you don't find the thighs attached to Andrea Albani to be life affirming and/or spiritually enlightening, than I'm afraid there's little hope for you. Not to worry, though, if Andrea's killer thighs fail to evoke any response (seriously, you'd have to dead for them not to), I'm sure the ample booty attached to the ample booty chick from Cannibal Terror (a.k.a. Terreur cannibale) will do the trick. Oh, and the reason I call her "the ample booty chick from Cannibal Terror" is because I'm not quite sure what her name is. I'm thinking it could be "Mariam Camacho," but that name is not listed in the credits. In order to prevent further confusion, from now on I'm just going to call her Shapely Lina. Why, you ask? Well, Lina was the name of her character in Cannibal Terror, and she was, of course, shapely... Man, was she shapely. Mhhhm!).

Now, this might come across as pure, undiluted kooky-talk, but a film needs more than mouth-watering thighs and accommodating trunks filled with inordinate amounts of junk to be considered a true masterpiece.

At the behest of a colossal douche-nozzle who drives a Neufeld Chevrolet Corvette Stingray C3, a brief war is waged between a gang of Nazi bikers and the members of a non-prestigious karate school. If you need more than that, I don't know what else to say. It's got Nazi bikers, karate, thighs and big butts. End of story.

Did I mention that it's got  uncircumcised penises? I did? Where? Oh, yeah. I made reference to exploding uncircumcised penises a couple of minutes ago. Well, anyway, I think I must have spotted at least five uncircumcised penises in this movie. If you're wondering if this is a good thing. Trust me, it is... a good thing. I don't know if you know this, but uncircumcised penises are awesome.

It looks like I need to revise my list. It's got Nazi bikers, karate, thighs, big butts and uncircumcised penises. End of story. You know what? I'm going to hold off on the whole "end of story" thing, as I'm probably going to come up with a dozen more things that make this movie the righteous piece of Euro-sleaze that it is.

It should go without saying, but the reason I called the war between the Nazi bikers and the karate school rejects brief is because the Nazi bikers wield machine guns, while the karate school rejects... do not.

It all starts, like I said earlier, at the behest of a colossal douche-nozzle. His name is Hal (José Gras), and his desperately wants to lick up and down the legs that belong to Babsy (Andrea Albani), an eighteen year-old hottie with thighs that don't know the meaning of the word quit.

As he's taking Babsy to The Big Apple nightclub in his Corvette Stingray, Hal is confronted by a biker and his biker buddies while stopped at a red light. He doesn't know this, but one of the biker's biker buddies is killed moments after Hal drives off. I wonder if the biker and the rest of his biker buddies will hold Hal responsible for their friend's death? Nah, they seem like reasonable chaps. Now, who's up for some swing dancing?

I know, swing dancing?!? The Big Apple looks like your typical Euro-disco. In other words, I don't see any swing dancing transpiring here anytime soon. Boy, was I wrong. At first I thought: Why are they showing couples dancing enthusiastically to swing music? I mean, is this same club? About midway through the extended swing dance number I gave up trying to figure out why this was happening, and just sat back and soaked in the bat-shit.

After chatting with a woman who is wearing way too much denim, and ordering a bottle of champagne, Hal escorts Babsy to a backroom lounge (complete with car seat couches).

In the spirit of transparency, the only reason I elected to watch this movie was because I saw a picture of a leggy brunette lounging leggily on a car seat couch.

And, of course, my instincts were absolutely correct. The sight of Andrea Albani sitting in a white, see-through, slit-heavy dress as she waited for José Gras to procure more booze is one of the most arresting images in the history of cinema.

Unfortunately, The Mad Foxes isn't about Andrea Albani lounging about in various Barcelona nightclubs. (It's not?) No, it's about Hal trying not to get killed by a gang of Nazi bikers.

Assaulted by those very same Nazi bikers outside The Big Apple, Hal, after a brief stay at the hospital, goes home, fixes himself a stiff drink, lights a cigarette, and calls up his friend who runs a non-prestigious karate school located on the outskirts of a gay fever dream.

I wasn't really paying attention, but I think the plan to get back at the Nazi bikers involves Hal and the karate guys attacking them during the funeral for their dead comrade. Nevertheless, the ensuing rumble is an epic battle of... Oh, who am I kidding? The fight between the bikers and the karate school assholes has got to be one of the lamest movie brawls I've ever seen. Hell, I've seen better fight choreography at my local playground. Not to imply that I like to watch kids playing at my local playground. In fact, I don't think there is a playground close to where I live. I suppose I could take the bus to one... Um, I don't like the direction this is review has currently taken, so, I'm going to stop typing words for a minute.

And... I'm back.  After the bikers massacre the karate rejects at their dojo (they didn't stand a chance), they come looking for Hal. Narrowly escaping the biker's attempt to murder him at his apartment, Hal hops in his Stingray and flees to the country. Picking up a female hitchhiker (Laura Premica) along the way, Hal takes refuge at his parents house; a palatial home complete with a maid staff, a stable boy and a gardener who sort of looks like Antanas Guoga.

How long do you think it will take for the bikers to find out where Hal hiding out? Judging by the way the morning light is illuminating the light dusting of jet black hair that peppers the surface of Hal's workmanlike buttocks as it helped foster his pelvic region plow his erect penis in and out of the hitchhiker's pussy while out hunting, I'd say two, maybe three hours. I know, what I just said doesn't make a lot of sense. The point I'm trying to make is this, hiding from a gang of psychotic Nazi bikers at your parents house is a terrible idea.

While the resulting murders are pretty great, the aftermaths are even greater. What I mean is, the death slumping in this movie is top notch. What's death slumping? Well, death slumping is something a murder victim does immediately after their organic structure is met with violence. Instead expiring right away, the victims make one last valiant attempt to appear not dead.

My favourite valiant attempts to not appear dead occur in Hal's house (a machine gunned maid slumps against a kitchen cabinet just before dying) and during Hal's revenge spree (a black stockings-clad Nazi dominatrix slumps beautifully against a wicker basket after getting shot in the abdomen - it's too bad her Nazi corset wasn't bulletproof).

This might sound a tad odd, but I was kind of disappointed that we never got to see Shapely Lina, the shapely bartender Hal tries to pump information out of, slump before dying. While I'm not even sure her shapely ass is killed, I still would have loved to have seen her make a valiant attempt to not appear dead after being shot or stabbed. Oh well.

Book-ended by the two Krokus songs ("Easy Rocker" and "Celebration"), The Mad Foxes is sexploitation done right. Okay, maybe opening and closing your movie with Krokus songs isn't exactly the right thing to do, but doing the right thing isn't what makes the sexploitation genre so darned appealing. Violent, sexy and stupid as fuck, this is what exploitation cinema should look like.