Showing posts with label Me Me Lai. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Me Me Lai. Show all posts

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Jungle Holocaust (Ruggero Deodato, 1977)

I've been locked in this cage for days, and I'm starting to lose my mind. And not only that, but fighting over scraps of food with a large tropical bird, being a peed on by small children, and having to listen to the screams emanating from a young man whose bloodied arm is currently being devoured by ants has started to lose its appeal. That's not to say that they ever had any appeal in the first place, I'm just being facetious. Either way, I'm beginning to regret my decision to come to the jungles of the Philippines in search of oil deposits. Naked, dirty, and starving, there's no way this could get any worse. Oh, what's this? An attractive native woman is coming over to my cage. I wonder if I can somehow persuade her to get me some food. Acting out a series of hand gestures that are meant to convey to her that I would like some food, the native woman has instead decides to interpret my gesticulations as an invitation to perform an impromptu handjob on my slumbering cock. The look on my face as she vigorously tugged on my hasn't been erect for days penis must have been priceless. On the one hand, a handjob is something I didn't expect to receive during my stay in the world's worst cannibal-run prison. In other words, it was a pleasant surprise. On the other hand, leave my dick alone, and bring me some chicken wings. What you have just experienced is a new dimension in film criticism. You see, by putting myself in the shoes of the characters, I have found that I am able to understand their motivations more effectively than your typical viewer. And I can't think of a better film to debut this technique than Ruggero Deodato's Jungle Holocaust (a.k.a. Last Cannibal World), The Magnificent Ambersons of jungle set cannibal films.
 
 
Why is this film the perfect vehicle to test drive your newfangled approach to film criticism? Why, that's simple. There's only one character who matters, so our attention isn't diverted by those who would normally vie for our peculiar brand of selective awareness. And get this, he's a male character who's not surrounded by European chicks in lingerie. Yeah, I know. Pretty radical stuff. How on earth were you able to survive an experience that was completely devoid of garter belts? Well, like I was saying, I made a concerted effort to to empathize with Robert Harper (Massimo Foschi), a non-bearded oil company hack who becomes a bearded jungle dweller who eats human livers for breakfast. And I found that by doing that, I was greatly rewarded at the end of the day.
 
 
 
Having watched a number of Italian-made cannibal films recently, I've come to expect a certain level of ghastliness. And don't get me wrong, Jungle Holocaust has plenty of ghastliness. It's just that I wasn't expecting such an artistically inclined piece of cinema. Wait a minute. An artistically inclined cannibal movie? Hey, why not? Take away the animal cruelty, the gut-munching, and the degradation, and what you're left with is one hell of a compelling a jungle adventure film.
 
 
Unlike most cannibal films, Jungle Holocaust doesn't start in New York City. In fact, you'll be hard pressed to find any concrete in this film. Dropped in the jungles on the island of Mindanao almost immediately, as the aforementioned Robert Taylor, his pal Rolf (Ivan Rassimov, Jonas from Eaten Alive!), and their pilot, a whiskey-drinking local named Charlie (Sheik Razak Shikur), and his ladyfriend Swan (Judy Rosly), plan to meet some fellow oil company employees at their camp near a clearing.
 
 
Things begin to go downhill right from the start, as the people who are supposed to greet them don't answer their radio. It could be that the thickness of the jungle is causing their radio to not work properly, but we all know that's not the case. As expected, there's no-one there to greet them when they land. In an ironic twist, the radio they were calling was haphazardly thrown in the middle of the makeshift runway causing the plane to lose one of its wheels. While Charlie puts the wheel back on, and Swan treats the cut on his head, Robert and Rolf do what white people do when they're bored, they wander off into the jungle. It doesn't take long for them to get lost. Luckily, they manage to find their way back to the plane. But not before watching a snake eat a lizard (five minutes in and we've already experienced a bit of animal cruelty), and stumbling upon a rotting human head.
 
 
They might have made back to the plane, but because of their impromptu jungle trek, they're going to have to stay the night. That's right, it's too late for them take off. And you know what that means? I'm sorry, Swan. But you're going to have to be killed first. You're just not that interesting. The following morning, Robert, Rolf, and Charlie go searching for Swan (she could be alive...yeah, right). Again, you know what that means? I'm afraid you're going to die, Charlie. The genre is about white people in peril, and since you're not white, I predict a large ball covered with spikes in your future. And that future is now. Splat!
 
 
If you thought stumbling upon a rotting human head was nasty, wait until you stumble upon a group cannibals eating a freshly killed Swan. And I'm not talking about a large waterfowl, I'm talking about a human being whose name happens to be Swan. We get it, they're eating her, and when they're done, they're probably gonna eat Charlie. And when they're finished devouring his body, they will most likely turn to their attention to Robert and Rolf. I don't know about you, but if I were them, I would start building a raft, and get as far away the from this place as humanly possible. Taking my advice, they do just that. Unfortunately, their raft isn't really equipped to handle rapids. Don't get me wrong, it's an awesome raft. It's just that the rapids were too intense. When the raft flips over, Robert and Rolf are thrown into the water. Struggling to make it ashore, a wet Robert scans the river for Rolf, but there's no sign of him. Hungry, Robert decides to eat some wild mushrooms. Big mistake. After vomiting for a little while, Robert eventually passes out.
 
 
When he wakes up, he's surrounded by a bunch of long-haired cannibals wielding spears. Dragging him to their cave city, Robert is tied to a giant rock. As the cannibals are tearing his clothes off, I thought to myself: Why aren't they ripping off his black underpants? Then it dawned on me, Massimo Foschi doesn't want to be naked for the rest of the movie, and asked Ruggero Deodato if he could keep his black underpants on. But why wouldn't the cannibals remove all his clothing? As this was dawning on me, a female cannibal (Me Me Lai, Eaten Alive!) suddenly appears from behind another giant rock, and slowly approaches Robert. Pawing at his black underpants, Me Me Lai eventually rips them off. While his black underpants were being ripped from their corporeal moorings, I was bouncing up and down like a cock-starved maniac.
 
 
The moment his genitals are finally free to bob and weave the way nature intended, a sense of relief washed over me. Kudos to Massimo Foschi for going that extra mile for the sake of art. Your nakedness added about five extra coats of realism to this movie. At any rate, after the cannibals have finished tugging on his junk, they swing Robert from the rafters of their cave. Why are they are doing this, you ask? Well, they think he's bird (remember, he arrived in the jungle via an airplane). 
 
 
Ultimately, he's locked in a cage with a hornbill and an eagle (like I said, they think he's a bird). I don't what's worse, getting peed on while thirsty or receiving a handjob while hungry. Yeah, that's a tough one. You would think being peed on would be worse; it's pee! But I'll take a sandwich over a handjob any day of the week. Are you sure about that? It's a Me Me Lai directed handjob. Interesting point. Can't I have a sandwich and a handjob? I could eat the sandwich using my hands (hands are an excellent thing to have, as they make sandwich eating so much easier), and Me Me Lai could use her hands to give me a handjob. No, I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. Aw, man. That sucks ass. Don't look now, but some cannibal kids are about start throwing rocks at you.
 
 
You what the cannibals use birds for? They use them to catch crocodiles: the cannibals' mortal enemy. Remember the turtle torture scene Cannibal Ferox? Well, I think the crocodile dismemberment scene in Jungle Holocaust is the most egregious example of animal cruelty I have ever witnessed in a motion picture. That being said, since the cannibals use birds to catch crocodiles, and  Roberts decides that he's had enough with being peed on and receiving untimely handjobs, and starts planning his escape. 
 
 
It's true, Massimo Foschi's constant nakedness helped give his performance an added air of authenticity. However, it was his willingness to get dirty that alleviated the movie to the level of high art. In fact, you really get the sense that Massimo is in actual mortal danger throughout the film. You can see it on his face, as his character gradually adapts to his surroundings. I'd go as far as to say that without Massimo Foschi's fearless performance, the film wouldn't have had the same impact. All you would have had was a series of scenes featuring animals being tortured and the occasional shot of the locals (in black bob wigs) eating human flesh. And at the end of the day, all jungle set cannibal movies have those things.


video uploaded by dvdinfatuation

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Eaten Alive! (Umberto Lenzi, 1980)

You know how Tough Actin'® Tinactin® provides fungus-related relief to millions of Americans? Well, the same can be said for blow-gun darts dipped in cobra venom. Except, blow-gun darts dipped in cobra venom are not, I repeat, not, going to ease your athlete's foot, jock itch, or ringworm. What it will do, however, is attack your central nervous system, cause respiratory failure, and ultimately lead to your untimely demise. Call me crazy, but Tough Actin'® Tinactin® and blow-gun darts dipped in cobra venom seem to have nothing in common. You're right, they don't. You know what? Let's just pretend that didn't happen, shall we? A quick show of hands, who here is excited to watch yet another film that features real animal cruelty, simulated cannibalism, outdoor rape and indoor castration? Judging by the lack of hands being raised, I'm gonna assume no-one is. Which is a shame, because I've slowly become enamoured with Italian-made cannibal exploitation films. Don't get me wrong, I despise them with a fiery passion. But for some strange reason, I can't look away. Which is odd because Eaten Alive! (a.k.a. Mangiati Vivi!) is filled with instances where looking in the opposite direction is probably the correct course of action. Hell, even the characters that populate this cruel universe think looking away is the right thing do. In fact, one of them punches the other in the face (knocking them out cold) in order to shield their eyes from a particular bit of ghastliness. Enough with the hand wringing, deep down (yeah, yeah, "trauma hounds - run to corrode," we get it, you like Skinny Puppy) you love these movies. How do you know I love them? I didn't want to bring this up, but I've watched you browse the bins of your local video emporium, and I've noticed that you always seem to go straight to the cannibal section. Damn, you got me. You win this round, voice in my head.
 
 
You know how Tough Actin'® Tinactin® provides...Just kidding. Quick question. Yeah, hi. I couldn't help but overhear you say that this film, directed, of course, by Umberto Lenzi (Cannibal Ferox),  features "indoor castration," and was wondering: Does the inside of cave constitute as being "indoors"? Wow, that is an excellent question. I'm gonna say, yes, it does constitute as indoors. Any structure, whether it be a makeshift shelter in the woods or an imposing castle sitting on top of a hill, is technically a building. And like all buildings, there's an inside and an outside. And the castration scene in Eaten Alive! definitely takes place inside as supposed to outside. Anyway, I hope that clears things up.
 
 
I have a question of my own: Is this the first cannibal film to sport an opening sequence that takes place in Niagara Falls, Canada? I'm going to go out on a limb and say, yes, it's probably the first. I only ask because the sight of all that snow and ice threw me for a bit of a loop. I mean, for a minute there I thought I'd put in the wrong movie. That thought quickly evaporates, however, when a balding white man is shot in the neck by an ambiguously Asian man wielding a blow-gun. While the trip to Niagara Falls was somewhat jarring, the next scene brought me back to my comfort zone, as we hit the streets of New York City. Like Niagara Falls, the weather is snowy and cold; hence, the ridiculous fur coat worn by a blonde man who is shot in the chest by a, yeah, yeah, an ambiguously Asian man wielding a blow-gun. Just in case some people in the audience are having trouble connecting the two slayings, another man, this time a balding white man in a trench coat, is shot in the neck in front of a man dressed as Santa Claus.
 
 
What do these killings have in common? Frankly, I couldn't careless. That's funny, you strike me as the kind of person who usually cares a lot about these sort of things. Oh, don't get me wrong, I care. You could even say that I give a fuck. It's just that Janet Agren is about to start strutting her stuff down 42nd Street, and I don't want to have to worry about the  plot-based machinations of some cannibal flick. It's not that I find her attractive or anything like that (her cheekbones are stupid), I'm mainly excited to watch a blonde woman in a fur coat (unlike the blonde guy shot in the chest with a dart dipped in cobra venom, Janet looks chic in fur) walk up and down 42nd Street at a time when it was a seedy paradise.
 
 
Since the 42nd Street of today looks like a corporate cesspool, someone should open a museum dedicated to 42nd Street as it was during its heyday as a sleaze mecca.
 
 
Removing her fur coat to reveal a busy sweater (it's mostly red with black around the neck, but the left shoulder features red, white, and pink stripes), Sheila Morris (Janet Agren) sits down at the detectives desk, and is told that her missing sister, Diana Morris (Paola Senatore), might be connected to the recent spell of bizarre blow-gun murders.
 
 
It would seem that her sister has gotten herself mixed up with a purification sect. A purification what? Yeah, it's this sect who apparently worship the environment. I know, what a bunch of wackos. Actually, as the police describe Jonas (Ivan Rassimov), the charismatic leader of this particular sect, and his group's beliefs, I found myself agreeing with everything they stood for. Of course, I'm not saying I would hop on the next Pakistani Airlines flight to New Guinea to join up with these so-called "nutjobs," I just thought it was odd that what was once considered radical is now the norm. I love the look of horror on Sheila's face when the F.B.I. agent tells her that the sect are against pollution.
 
 
After talking with Professor Mel Ferrer (the name of his character is not important) about New Guinea, Sheila is on her way. Unable to transverse the harsh wilderness by herself (she's just a simple country girl from Alabama), Sheila picks out her guide. Only problem is, her potential guide, a whiskey-loving expatriate American named Mark Butler (Robert Kerman), doesn't really want to guide her anywhere at this juncture. And why would he? He gets by on the money her makes on the local backroom arm wrestling circuit (you know it's a legit arm wrestling league just by looking at the yellow headbands the competitors wear). Desperate, Sheila offers Mark, who's still busy implementing the "your problems are not my problem" routine, a ton of cash. After mulling it over for about five seconds, Mark agrees to take her to the village where Diana was last seen.
 
 
As they're paddling down the river, Mark, Sheila, and their two native guides, spot a monkey about to be devoured by a giant python. Also known as: the monkey with its head in the mouth a giant python scene, this infamous scene is hard to watch. Poor monkey, its agonizing final moments are captured on film forever. The look on its little face as it fruitlessly tries to prevent itself from being eaten was heartbreaking. But as Mark tells a visibly shaken Sheila, "You'll see worse before this is over." And you know what? I believe him. 
 
 
As expected, Mark and Sheila soon find themselves "up shit's creek without a paddle." In addition, one native guide is eaten by a crocodile and the other is killed by an unknown assailant. You know who else is killed? A native woman wearing a pink shawl. Well, actually, first she was raped, then she was killed. As the cannibals are dining on her entrails, Mark and Sheila stumble upon their unorthodox feast. Don't worry, though, the cannibals didn't spot them (Mark is able to stifle Sheila's gasp in the nick of time). Nevertheless, the area is swarming with cannibals.
 
 
Luckily, a reasonable fellow named Karen (Franco Caduti) and his merry band of Jonas-affiliated henchmen (you could call 'em The Jonas Brothers) find them first. To be honest, I don't know what's worse, being eaten alive by cannibals or being forced to listen to the mumbo-jumbo that spews from Jonas' mouth on a regular basis. In case you forgot, Jonas is the leader of Purification Village (come for the hallucinogenic Hawaiian punch, stay for the dildos dipped in cobra blood). After being brought before Jonas by Karen and the Paul Rudd-esque Dick (Carlo Longhi), Jonas' right-hand man, Mark and Sheila spot Diana while attending the funeral of one of the sect members.
 
 
What's interesting about the funeral sequence, besides the fact that Dick gives Mark a play-by-play of what is going on, is that Mowara (Me Me Lai), the widow, is forced to have no-nonsense sexual intercourse on her husband's ashes with her brother-in-laws in front of the entire village. Oh, and just in case you're wondering, all three men choose to employ the missionary position. It's true, the third brother-in-law lifts Mowara up slightly  in order to gain penetration leverage. But the fact that his humping style was somewhat different than his brothers indicated to me that he simply wanted his thrusts to stand out from the crowd.
 
 
We soon learn that Diana is not happy being a sect member. While that's great news and all, but how do you expect Mark and Sheila to bust Diana out when you take in account that the village is surrounded by cannibals. In other words, the choice is simple: You can remain with the purification sect or take your chances with the bloodthirsty cannibals.
 
 
One man whose had enough with both is Mark Butler, as he just wants to drink whiskey and count his money. An anti-hero in every sense of the word, Robert Kerman brings a take no guff righteousness to the grisly proceedings. Getting the better of every cannibal and henchman that crosses his path, I wouldn't mind seeing Mark Butler go up against Giovanni Radice Lombardo's Mike Logan from Cannibal Ferox in a contest to prove who's the bigger jungle badass. Of course, Mark would probably destroy Mike rather easily (Mike is only tough when his adversaries are tied to trees), but I still would like to see them go at it.
 
 
Special kudos need to go to Paola Senatore (Emanuelle in America) for her ballsy work during the film's gruesome final third. Now, I don't want to say what exactly happens to her. But let's just say, it makes the monkey scene look tame. Which is saying something since that monkey's head was actually inside a snake's mouth.
 
 
Oh, and forget using cyanide to wipe out your crazy religious cult. Try cobra venom. It's quick, relatively painless, and it's all natural. Cobra venom, the choice of a brainwashed generation.


nsfw video uploaded by r0l00L