House of Self-Indulgence

The ropes press tightly into your flesh as you lay sprawled out on the table like a piece of meat. You try to break free, but the more you struggle, the tighter the ropes become. Suddenly, midway through your ordeal, you notice something strange is starting to happen. The discomfort you initially felt has been replaced with pleasure. And not just any kind of pleasure, we're talking exceedingly damp panties and a shitload of sensual lip biting up this poorly ventilated dojo. Oh, and don't worry, you haven't turned into a pervert. No, the reason you're experiencing pleasure, as supposed to pain and suffering, is because your ropes were tied by a master. You could call him, "The Bondage Master." And, you know what? Let's call him that, as the film I'm currently writing about is called, The Bondage Master (a.k.a. "The Rope Detective"). At first I was like: Women don't like to be tied up. At least not the ones I see hanging out outside The Knit Cafe. However, after listening to Shiro (Yukijirō Hotaru), "The Bondage Master," explain the benefits of being tied up with ropes that have been tied by him to an inexperienced bondage model, I thought to myself: Maybe ropes are the key to happiness.

Think about it, how long can a loved one hold on to you? Five, maybe ten seconds? Sure, during my extensive travels, I've seen some hugs that have lasted longer than ten seconds. But let's get real, people, hugs are fleeting. Well, if you've been tied up with ropes that have been tied by "The Bondage Master," you will feel like you're constantly being hugged by a loved one.

Some of you are probably thinking to yourself: I can tie a knot, why can't I be a "Bondage Master"? First off, I never said you couldn't be a "Bondage Master." And secondly, you're actually right, though, you can't be a "Bondage Master," as there is only one "Bondage Master."

Seriously, no one, and I mean, no one, ties up hot chicks in white pantyhose the way "The Bondage Master" does.

Now, I don't know where exactly "The Bondage Master" learned to tie up women the way he does, but I do know this: When a Yakuza-affiliated gang called "The Blue Dragons" learn the woman who stole a ton of cocaine from them was last seen with "The Bondage Master," he's going to have a lot of explaining to do.

How many of you think "The Bondage Master" is going to be unable to explain his way out this mess and be forced to employ his rope-tying skills to get himself out of the plethora of Yakuza-affiliated sticky/pickle-adjacent situations he's placed in throughout this movie?

In an ironic twist, the woman in question, a bondage performer named Saya (Hitomi Shiraishi), was actually last seen with a wannabe "Bondage Master," not the real "Bondage Master." I know I said that no one ties up hot chicks in white pantyhose the way "The Bondage Master" does, but that doesn't stop imitators from trying.

"I like the way you tie me up," coos Saya, as Shiro puts the finishing touches on the knot currently pressing tightly against her back. Tied to a chair in a nurses uniform (complete with white pantyhose), Saya is photographed, while the photographer's assistant, Hitoshi (Hiromitsu Noriyasu), takes note of Shiro's bondage techniques. Desperate to become a bondage master, Hitoshi pleads with Shiro to show him the... Oh my God, I almost said, "show him the ropes." How hilarious is that? What's that? It's not that hilarious. Huh.

When she's not being photographed while tied up with ropes, Saya spends most of her time running from Yakuza thugs. On the other hand, Hitoshi can usually be found wandering the streets while wearing a sandwich board. I don't read Japanese, but I'm guessing the sign he's wearing contains an offer for women to earn up to 100,000 Yen if they agree to pose for bondage-related photographs. It doesn't matter in the end, as Hitoshi verbalizes this offer to a cutie with her hair pressed back by a headband. Unfortunately, she declines his offer; man, I would have loved to have seen her tied up.

And I don't mean that in a perverted way. I know, what other way can I mean then? But as we learn in the next scene, bondage can help alleviate menstrual cramps, headaches, toothaches and backaches. I was just as shocked as you are when I found out that not only can bondage be used for medicinal purposes, but that "The Bondage Master" is a nice guy.

Like most people, the act of seeing Shiro staring menacingly on the film's poster lead me to believe that his character was going to be a real sick fuck. Of course, as the film progressed, I soon discovered that the opposite is true. He views bondage as an art form, not some niche fetish.

On top of kinky photo shoots, Shiro also works at The Black Lizard Club, a–you guessed it–bondage lounge; think of it as Café Flesh for the S+M set. Sharing the stage with a leggy dominatrix named "Boss" (Yokiru Ikuta), Shiro's knot skills wow the audience as he ties up a woman in–you guessed it again–white pantyhose.

After the show, Shiro rescues a woman named Keiko (Ai Yasunaga) from a gang of unruly teens. It turns out that Keiko is Saya's sister, and she's been cruising the bondage scene looking for her. More than happy to help out, Shiro tells Keiko that he'll keep an eye out for her.

If you thought that was gentlemanly, you should check out the scene where Shiro uses his rope skills to retrieve a toy plane for a bunch of kids (it was stuck in a tree). I tell ya, it was refreshing to see a bondage enthusiast use his talents for something other than the advancement of his own orgasm.

Need more proof that Shiro isn't your average bondage master, look no further than the scene where he accompanies his Filipino prostitute pal to see her lawyer (she wants to get a work visa). It's true, Shiro was there to see his lawyer as well, but the fact he seems to go out of his way to help people blew my mind. The lawyer, by the way, was the "Boss." That's right, she's a leggy lawyer by day, leggy dominatrix by night.

He even eats at an independently run noodle stand! (no corporate noodle stands for this bondage master). So, let's recap, shall we? Shiro uses his bondage skills to help alleviate menstrual cramps and other ailments (mind you, he doesn't do it for free... bondage masters have bills to pay, too), he supports local businesses, convinces novice bondage models that being tied up is akin to being embraced by a lover, gets toy planes out of trees for little kids, accompanies Filipino prostitutes to see their lawyer, rescues damsels in distress, and... Uh, what else does this motherscratcher do? Oh, did I mention that he removes bullets from wounded Yakuza? No? Well, he does.

I'm telling you, if there wasn't so much bondage action, I would recommend that The Bondage Master be shown in schools, as it's a highly moral film. No foolin'.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Yeah, but they didn't say anything about these soul-baring windows being bay windows, now did they? Just to make sure that my analogy made sense, I looked up "bay window" utilizing the latest technology about five minutes ago. And it would seem that I was absolutely right to use that term the way I did. That's because Nicole Hansen's eyes are like bay windows. In that they project outward from their ocular housing, much like a bay window projects outward from the walls of a building. Now, I wouldn't say Nicole's giant eyes were the best thing about American Cyborg: Steel Warrior, but they were... Wait a second, why wouldn't I say that? I mean, think about it. Sure, the lingerie-clad thugs who harass our ophthalmically abundant heroine are pretty awesome and the fact that the male lead seemed to base his entire look on Daniel Day-Lewis' character from The Last of the Mohicans is on the cusp of being noteworthy as well, but nothing beats the excessive girth of Nicole Hansen's whirlpool-esque peepers.

Judging by the way you're looking at me, you're probably think to yourself: There's no way this glorified mental case could possibly have anything else to say about Nicole Hansen's saucer-shaped eyeballs in regard to this movie, one that has the distinction of being the last produced by The Cannon Group Inc.

Oh, can't I, eh?

Um, you know what? I think you might be right, I don't have anything else to say. But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop referring Nicole Hansen and her large, expressive eyes every now and then. And why would I? Take away Nicole's humongous eye holes, and this movie, directed by Boaz Davidson (The Last American Virgin), would simply be a somewhat decent Charleston, South Carolina* set post-apocalyptic thrill ride.

However, it would seem that John Saint Ryan's balding cyborg character doesn't agree with me at all, as he spends the entire movie trying his best to close her eyes, or at least diminish their inherent twinkle.

Created by the computers who have taken over sizable chunks of the world (which has been ravished by nuclear war), the cyborg is ordered to "terminate" a woman named Mary (Nicole Hansen) with extreme prejudice. Of course, they don't want her dead because they're jealous of her ability to make hunky rebels and discerning lesbians fall in love with her by simply–you guessed it–batting her fan-like eyelashes at them, they want her dead because she's the only woman on earth with the reproductive fortitude to create human offspring.

You see, the computers want humanity to die off. And in order to expedite this process, they force them to live out their final days in a ruthless totalitarian police state ruled by cyborgs.

Since the film's budget won't allow for shots of human skulls being crushed by robot tank treads, we're given instead a rusty South Carolina license plate and the sound of thunder. Nevertheless, one of the enforcers of this new world order, an unnamed cyborg played by John Saint Ryan, has just received orders (from one of the cyborg information kiosks sprinkled throughout the city) to eliminate the rebels.

Hiding in their subterranean head quarters, the members of the rebellion seem to be buzzing with excitement. And why wouldn't they be? Tonight's the night they transport Mary and her baby (which is kept in a jar) to the port in order to rendezvous with a group of Europeans, who will whisk them across the pond to safety; get this, in this universe, Europe is the bastion of liberty, not the United States of America.

Anyway, with 37 hours to get across hostile territory, the group synchronize their watches and are each given a baggy filled with "RZB", an anti-radiation drug. Unfortunately, just as they're about to leave, a cyborg with a receding hairline bursts into their underground lair and starts shooting at them with his machine gun.

This may sound a tad harsh, but I'm glad the rebels were wiped out. Just for the record: My glad tidings have nothing to do with being a fan of "The System" (remember citizens, "The System is your friend"), but because the prospect of having to remember all their names was rather daunting.

Luckily for me, only Mary and her foetus under glass managed to survive the cyborg onslaught. On the down side, the cyborg will stop at nothing until Mary's dead and he's scraping her foetus off the wheels of his car. I know, the cyborg doesn't drive a car, I'm speaking metaphorically.

To make matters worse, Mary and her foetus must contend with lingerie clad thugs. At first I was like, these guys look like they raided the closet of a dedicated fan of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. But then I saw their leader and said, fuck that, these guys were obviously influenced by Frank Doubleday's Romero from Escape from New York.

It's no secret, but if I was going to write a review of Escape from New York, the bulk of my attention would be focused on Frank Doubleday's Romero, as his bizarre mannerisms are the best thing about that movie.

Just as Mary is about to get rolled by these lingerie-wearing dandies, a guy named Austin (Joe Lara) steps in to give her hand. Making short work of them, Austin rejects Mary's post-dandy beat-down request to escort her to the port and takes off. It would seem that Austin wasn't helping Mary out of the kindness of his heart, he actually had a score to settle with the cross-dressing wrongdoers.

Since there would be no movie if Austin didn't assist Mary in her quest, they eventually team up. Though, you'll notice that Mary doesn't tell Austin she's carrying a foetus in her backpack. In fact, she straight up lies to him; she promises to give him all RZB tablets he can carry when they arrive at the port.

At this point, American Cyborg: Steel Warrior can be broken down into two simple modes: #1 - Fighting the cyborg. And #2 - Running from the cyborg. Actually, I'd like to add a third mode to the mix, if that's all right. And that is: #3 - Recuperating from modes one and two. Given that Austin and Mary inflict major damage on the cyborg every time they encounter him, this allows them to recuperate. It also enables them to get to know one another better.

While Mary manages to keep the truth under wraps (Austin still has no idea she has a foetus in her backpack), it would seem that both are guarding secrets. The only difference being, Austin has no idea he's guarding one as well.

Someone better give the leader of the radioactive cannibals a mint, because he's about to have foetus on his breath.

You're probably wondering, how did Mary manage to be taken prisoner by a gang of radioactive cannibals with Austin at her side? Well, let's just say, Austin doesn't react well when he finds out the truth. Even though Mary tries her best to explain the importance of her mission (the future of humanity is at stake), Austin nonetheless feels betrayed, and runs off in a huff.

Will Mary and Austin be able to put aside their differences in time in order to save the human race from extinction? I guess. Either way, I found the film's straight-forward, no-nonsense approach to dishing out cyberpunk thrills and spills to be quite refreshing. Other than the wide-eyed Mary, the musclebound Austin, the ruthless cyborg killing machine, and few minor characters here and there (Helen Lesnick plays "Carp," Austin's on again and off again lesbian sidekick), the film isn't stuffed with extraneous filler. No, American Cyborg: Steel Warrior is a lean, mean, cyborg ass-kicking killing machine. Oh, and the music score by Blake Leyh rocks, or, I should say, it synths.

* The film was shot in an abandoned tractor factory near Tel Aviv.

A lot of people have this misguided notion that the 1980s ended when the calendar flipped over to 1990. However, as 976-EVIL 2 (a.k.a. 976-EVIL 2: The Astral Factor) constantly points out, the spirit of the 1980s burned bright well into the '90s. The idea that the cultural temperament of a particular era changes overnight is ridiculous. Maybe in a 100 years these differences will seem unimportant. But to those of us who lived through these linear chunks of time, the differences are crucial to understanding who we are and where we stand in the world. I mean, for many of us, the instant women stopped using hairspray was a watershed moment. Yet, hairspray usage amongst women did not cease come January 1, 1990, and the wonderfully diminutive Debbie James in this Jim Wynorski-directed sequel to a movie that wasn't that great to begin with is proof of this. Even though her so-called "big hair" is mostly realized by sporting crispy bangs and employing scrunchies in a manner that help facilitate the illusion of follicle aggrandizement, there's still enough product in her hair to start a small brush fire.

You could say Debbie's hair is stuck in the '80s. But, if you think about it, she's just continuing to ride the style waves that were laid by her bimbo fore-mothers in the early days of the fingerless glove decade. It's true, the style wave eventually petered out. That being said, some people continued to ride this wave well into '90s.

Even so, big hair was finally killed the first time a woman entered a hair salon and asked for "The Rachel," the bouncy, square layered hairstyle Jennifer Aniston wore in the first couple of seasons of Friends. I hope you're happy, Jennifer Aniston, or, I should say, Jennifer Aniston's hairdresser, you murdered the 1980s. Granted, the decade, in terms of being a cultural force, was already on its last legs, but you put the final nail in the coffin.

Wow, judging by what I've typed so far, you wouldn't know this was a review for 976-EVIL 2. But trust me, it totally is.

In a surprise twist, I'm not going on and on about Debbie's hair because the movie is lacking in the not being lame department. Get this, the film is actually pretty good. No, no, no, here me out. Sure, the film is a sequel to the Robert Englund-directed horror flick about about a killer psychic hotline (one that prompts you to dial '666'), but I thought part two was kinda clever in places.

Am I crazy, or does Karen Mayo-Chandler's t-shirt get more skimpy as the opening scene progresses? Anyway, after taking a swim, college co-ed, Laurie Glazer (Karen Mayo-Chandler, Stripped to Kill II: Live Girls), is creeped out by weird noises while showering. Since investigating "weird noises" in a skimpy t-shirt and a towel is a tad awkward, Laurie slips on a pair of white panties.

No ordinary pair of white panties, mind you, Laurie's white panties are lacy in the back and smooth as satin in the front.

Once the white panties are pulled up as far as they will go, Mr. Grubeck (René Assa) decides to reveal himself to Laurie as the one responsible for making the weird noises. As expected, Laurie is freaked out by Mr. Grubeck's sudden appearance, and like any sane person, makes a run for it.

Finding nothing but locked doors during her initial scamper, Laurie stumbles onto the set of Faust in the school's auditorium. At first, I wanted to say that Mr. Grubeck kills Laurie using one of them pointy cave thingies. But I soon discovered that they're actually called stalagmites. Isn't that strange? Nonetheless, as opening scenes go, the one that opens 976-EVIL 2 is not bad.

The opening credits and post-opening credits scene isn't too bad either, as it features the always amazing music of Chuck Cirino (Chopping Mall) and a brief appearance by Sigal Diamant, who plays the world's cutest biker bar bartender.

Arriving at said biker bar, the Mad Dog Inn, Spike (Patrick O'Bryan), who you might remember from the first film (he got to feel up Lezlie Deane's stocking encased legs), takes a seat at bar and orders a beer and some fries. After watching a news report on the bar's television detailing the gruesome events that befell Laurie in Slate River, the bar's pay phone starts to ring in that rather ominous fashion they tend to do in these movies.

Since no-one else can apparently hear the phone (the cute biker bar bartender says, "What phone?", in response to his query, "Isn't anyone gonna answer that phone?"), Spike reluctantly answers it. And wouldn't you know it, the first thing he hears is a sinister voice say: "Out of the darkness and into the light..." That's right, Spike may have survived the events from the first film, but he's still tormented by that damned psychic hotline.

Meanwhile, in Slate River, a shapely blonde with a sweet ass is about to discover her college professor is a deranged serial killer. Heading down to police headquarters to visit her police shrink father, Robin Jamison (Debbie James) bumps into–you guessed it–Mr. Grubeck, who was arrested thanks to a tip from a witness; Buck Flower was in the auditorium when Laurie Glazer was killed with a stalagmite.

Wearing a sleeveless doily-esque top with a pair of jean shorts covered in doily-esque flourishes, Robin is too adorable for words.

When Robin bumps into Mr. Grubeck, he must have imparted psychic powers onto her, as she can now see into the future.

The last thing you want to do is give Mr. Grubeck access to a telephone, but that's exactly what the Slate River cops end up doing. Calling "976-EVIL" without fail, Mr. Grubeck is granted the power to astral project. Meaning, he can continue murdering people, yet stay in his jail cell at the same time.

Did anyone else get a mild rash on their taint when Spike says to Robin that the fries at Cadillac Jacks (a cool local diner) are "not as tasty as the company"? Just me, eh? At any rate, Spike and Robin (who is wearing a pink top with black spandex exercise tights (with colourful flourishes down the side), team up to fight evil... or some bullshit like that.

Of course, Robin still needs a little more convincing, as she has her doubts that a locked up Mr. Grubeck is killing people thanks to a demonic psychic hotline.

What is it with Robin and her obsession with doily-based clothing? The top she wears while wandering around campus looks like something an old lady might cover her dinning room table with when not in use.

Not accustomed to seeing her fully clothed, Monique Gabrielle (Evil Toons) shows up as Susan Lawlor, the buttoned up prosecutor in charge of bringing charges against Mr. Grubeck. She's only in two scenes, but the sight of her in her lawyerin' clothes and the car scene should satisfy fans of the bosomy actress. The latter scene features several cutaways of her nylon ensnared feet struggling to press on the breaks and some impressive stunk work (I think).

An equally fully clothed Brigitte Nielsen (Chained Heat II) also makes an appearance as the gothy owner of Lucifer's, an occult bookstore. However, unlike Monique Gabrielle, Brigitte's part is merely a cameo... so, don't get too excited.

In terms of rating the many looks Robin sports in this film, my favourite has to be the pink belly-revealing top/jeans combination she wears throughout the film's final third (white belt, ftw).

You would think a film that has everything I just mentioned would eventually run out of steam. Think again, as 976-EVIL 2 saves the best for last. Exhausted after a long day of battling the forces of darkness, Robin decides to unwind by watching a movie with her pal Paula (Leslie Ryan). Unfortunately, Paula wants to watch Night of the Living Dead; Robin would prefer if they watched It's a Wonderful Life.

After flipping back and forth between the two films for a few minutes, Robin finally gives up and goes to the kitchen to get popcorn. Sitting on the couch in her 90s-friendly attire (unlike Robin, Paula's style oozes the 1990s), Paula is suddenly zapped into the television and finds herself on the set of It's a Wonderful Life during the "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings" scene.

The way Jim Wynorski and his team managed to make it appear as if Paula was in It's a Wonderful Life was shockingly adept. Seriously, it was seamless. To make things even more awesome, the scene is combined with Night of the Living Dead.

It's true, both films were, at the time at least, public domain, so it made sense for budget conscience filmmakers to use them in this manner. But still, the way the effect was executed was first-rate. It's too bad the entire film couldn't have been at this level of craftsmanship.

Three friends enter Weewankah Park located in the wilds of Michigan... (Hold up. Aren't you going to bemoan the fact that this film is yet another Canadian production pretending to be American?) Nah, I'm done doing that. Besides, State Park (a.k.a. Heavy Metal Summer) was, according to my exhaustive research, shot in both Québec and North Carolina. However, when Rafal Zielinski's name appears in the credits, that should tell all you need to know as far as the national makeup of this motion picture goes. I know, he made Valet Girls, the ultimate L.A. movie. But, for the most part, the bulk of his cinematic output is Canadian. Like I said, though, I'm done doing that. Anyway, where I was? Oh yeah, three friends enter a Yellowstone National Park/Algonquin Provincial Park-style park located in Michigan. It sounds like a simple premise, but what occurs to these three friends whilst inside will... (Don't tell me, it will alter the spiritual trajectory of their lives forever.) It's true, some trajectories of a spiritual nature will be altered; three, to be exact. But the manner in which this film goes about altering these particular trajectories is the stuff of Canuxploitation legend.

Don't believe me? Um, a creamy, freckle-covered redhead dons a bear suit (in the middle of summer) to help a handsome environmentalist save his small business from an unscrupulous land developer.

Still not convinced, eh? How 'bout this. Instead of cheating on her boyfriend by engaging in vaginal intercourse with every able-bodied, penis-owning male in the park, a vivacious blonde gives them all haircuts.

Really? You still need convincing? Okay, if this doesn't convince you, than nothing will. A fashion-forward woman thinks she has landed a real hunk when she uses her no-nonsense gams to bag herself a good-looking fella down by the water. Only problem being, this anatomically correct hunk is actually a punk. Or, to use her words: "He's a heavy metaler!!! A disgusting lowlife!"

And thanks to a well-written scene that took place earlier in the movie, this fashion-forward woman makes it abundantly clear that she despises everything associated with heavy metal.

There you have it, this film has three strong female characters each with their own distinct personalities. Your move, other movies.

The cool thing about each character is that they all reminded me of someone else. The actress who plays Eve (Kim Myers), the creamy, freckle-covered redhead, was a dead ringer for Meryl Streep, while the actress who plays Linnie (Jennifer Inch), the vivacious blonde, had a Kelli Maroney vibe about her.

As for the fashion-forward woman, she reminded me of... Oh, who am I kidding? There's only one Isabelle Mejias. Not to take anything away from Miss Myers and Frau Inch, but the moment I saw Isabelle Mejias appear onscreen as the adorable Marsha, I knew she was going to be my favourite character.

You're right, her character could have turned out to be a real hosebeast. But I didn't care, I was on Team Marsha from the get-go.

Oh, and I just remembered who Isabelle Mejias reminded me of. She reminded me of, that's right, Isabelle Mejias. A channel called Citytv used to air a movie called Unfinished Business all the time back in the days when they didn't run infomercials 24/7, and the female lead was played by none other than Isabelle Mejias.

In an ironic twist, Unfinished Business features music by The Parachute Club. What's that? How is that ironic? Oh, I'm sorry. There's a scene in State Park where Isabelle Mejias is wearing what she describes as a "two hundred dollar jogging suit," and her designer jogging suit, believe or not, practically screamed The Parachute Club.

After enduring the film's goofy opening scene (a guy in a bear suit causes havoc on a construction site) and an opening credits sequence set to a song that was the definition of Yello-esque, we meet our principle cast. From what I gathered by paying attention to what the characters were saying, Eve needs money, Linnie is about to get married and Marsha... Well, Marsha, to put it in the crudest terms possible, just wants to get laid.

How about those guys a few cars back who are also waiting to get into Weewankah Park? What am I saying? Those guys are heavy metalers, and we all know how Marsha feels about heavy metalers. (Are you sure "heavy metalers" is the right term? I mean, I thought "headbanger" was the preferred nomenclature.) It is. But Marsha calls them heavy metalers. Which, in a weird way, makes me like her even more.

When the spiky-haired heavy metaler, Johnny Rocket (Peter Virgile) starts smashing his dark-haired pal, Louis (Louis Tucci), against the side of their van, Marsha says: "Violence is so passe."

Finally entering the camp... Though, you have to wonder how Johnny Rocket and Louis managed to get past Corky (Andrew Jackson), the park's sycophantic head of security? It wouldn't take much for Corky–who, on top of being sycophantic, is a real asshole–to send the heavy metalers packing. Hell, just looking at them would be enough. What I think happened was, Corky temporarily left his post to help Mr. Rancewell (Walter Massey), the area's resident evil businessman.

It would seem that Louis and Johnny Rocket and Eve, Linnie and Marsha have a lot to learn about camping, as both their attempts to prepare food are met with failure. To make matters worse, the women mistake one of Marsha's belts for a snake and Louis's Gerontophobia is brought to forefront when he discovers the camp site next to theirs is occupied by an elderly couple named Tallahassee Ray (Rummy Bishop) and Ethel (Jessica Booker). Upon seeing them, Louis says, "Old people.... weird, man."

Remember when I said that Eve "needs money"? Well, she needs it for collage. And she figures she can earn a quick 5000 bucks by winning the "Wilderness Challenge," a race that involves swimming, running, kayaking and orienteering, or, as Louis calls it, "oriental-teering."

This plan hits a bit of a snag when we discover that Eve doesn't know jack-shit about orienteering. And, to make matters worse, all the orienteering classes are booked solid. So what's a freckle-covered redhead with alabaster thighs to do? After rebuffing her first request to help her, Truckie Honeycutt (James Wilder), the owner of the Honeycutt Market, is given no choice but to help her when Eve threatens to reveal Truckie's secret identity. That's right, Truckie is a mild-mannered store owner by day, a bear suit-wearing environmental activist by night.

You see, while wandering the woods, Eve spotted a man carrying what looked a bear suit through the woods. She didn't see his face, but she did see his ass (which was packaged in a pair of tight cut-off jean shorts). Well, later that day, Eve saw that ass again (packaged in the same tight cut-off jean shorts). Anyone wanna guess who was attached to that ass? Yep, it was none other than Truckie.

Oh, and don't feel too sorry for Truckie for being saddled with a name like Truckie, his younger brother's name after all is Trailor (Christopher Bolton); who, by the way, spends the majority of the movie hitting on Linnie.

While Linnie is busy giving random dudes "haircuts" and Eve is out "orienteering" in the woods with Truckie, Marsha has decided to snag herself a man. Grabbing her trusty binoculars and slipping into a Adrienne Vittadini one-piece bathing suit, Marsha scopes the beach for man candy.

Spotting a colossal man-babe in the water, Marsha positions herself on the dock so that the first things he sees when he comes ashore are her sexy stems. Repositioning her legs in order to maximize their impact on the male viewer, Marsha uses her shapely lower half the same way a fishermen uses a lure to land himself a mackerel or a bass.

To surprise of no-one, Marsha catches her prey with relative ease. What is a surprise, however, is the identity of the man she caught. Yep, the guy Marsha snagged by employing her first-rate gams is none other than Johnny Rocket. Robbed of his spiky hair, make-up, leather jacket and chains, Marsha doesn't seem to realize that she has just fallen for a heavy metaler!

Will Marsha be able to put aside her prejudice towards heavy metalers and embrace the power of love? Will Linnie run out of men to give haircuts to? Will Eve win the Wilderness Challenge? Will Louis get over his fear of old people? Will...

Enough with the questions, tell the nice people if this film is good or not. Right. So, yeah, it's good and junk. In fact, it was more than good. It was refreshing to watch a camp-based movie that doesn't involve a masked psycho-killer murdering teens or one that has to rely so heavily on crass humour. Boasting a strong pro-environmental message, State Park (a.k.a. Heavy Metal Summer) taught me that you shouldn't judge people based on their clothing, some old people are not lame, and slow and steady does in fact win the race.

It's official, Anthony Wong is my new favourite actor. Sure, I've only seen him in Herman Yau's The Untold Story (the film I'm currently writing about), and Herman Yau's Taxi Hunter, but based on the sheer intensity he displays in both these movies, I think I can safely declare that he in fact rules. Now, a lot of you are probably wondering why I didn't open with a bit about the insane amount of leggy floozies that appear in this film, or why I didn't open with a snarky remark about Parkman Wong Pak-Man's San Antonio Spurs baseball hat. First of all, I don't make snarky remarks. In fact, my remarks are, for the most part, completely snark-free. And secondly, why would a gruesome tale about a psychotic restaurant owner who murders men, women and children, chops up their bodies into tiny little pieces and then serves them to his customers have leggy floozies? I'm just messing with you, this film is filled with leggy floozies. And I don't feel guilty at all for calling them leggy floozies. They're leggy, they're floozies and they're ready to party.

All kidding aside, the inclusion of so many leggy floozies just goes to show why I consider pre-handover Hong Kong cinema to be superior to all other types of cinema. Filled with bizarre shifts in tone, kooky subplots, chopstick rape, unaware cannibalism, highly inappropriate humour and grisly violence (the kind that would make Lucio Fulci stop and say, "Mamma Mia, dat iz, uh, how you say? some really fucked up shit), The Untold Story was able to earn the fullness of my attention with a breathtaking ease.

I've noticed that my interest in films has been gradually waning over the past few months. Itching for most films to hurry up and finish already, I've been wading through a lot of dreck that's not even worth reviewing. Some of you might be thinking to yourself: Aren't the majority of the films you review not worth reviewing? Ah, just because a film is awful, doesn't mean it's not worth reviewing. No, the film's I'm talking about are neither good or bad, they're just plain bland.

Well, long story short, The Untold Story managed to briefly rekindle my love of cinema, as, like I said earlier, it contains everything I like. Of course, I don't mean to imply that I "like" watching little kids brutally murdered with a meat clever. What I think I meant to say is, I like it when movies aren't afraid to show the gory unpleasantness of close quarter child homicide. Yet, as much as I appreciate arterial spray, even I had to wonder if showing a crying five year-old spew neck blood all over his assailant's face was a little too much.

(Hey, enough about dead children...) Aw, man, some of the kids are doing cadaveric spasms. (What did I just say? Let's get back to discussing what's important, and that is the pantyhose-adorned plethora of leggy floozies Danny Lee hooks up with in this movie.)

Okay, I'll do that. But first, I'd like to inquire as to why Bo (Emily Kwan), a desperate to please female lady cop who works for the Macau police department, is dressed in army fatigues. I think I just answered my inquiry when I described Bo as "desperate to please." In other words, I think the reason Bo dresses the way she does is because she wants to be taken seriously as a female lady cop.

You could also say the reason Bo wears men's clothes is because if she didn't, her male co-workers would be hitting on her around the clock.

Don't believe me? Just ask the armada of leggy floozies who accompany Danny Lee's Officer Lee to the office, as they're inundated with untoward advances. Except, they're not really "untoward advances," are they? Leggy floozies want you to hit on them, it's what they're there for.

Anyway, Danny Lee's Officer Lee doesn't just bring leggy floozies to the office, he brings them to crime scenes too.

After some kids discover a bag of severed human limbs washed up on a beach, a group of detectives, the aforementioned Bo (who is wearing, like I said, army fatigues), Robert (Eric Kei Ka-Fat), King Kong (Lam King-Kong) and Bull (Parkman Wong Pak-Man), get in an argument over who's going remove the severed limbs from the beach.

As their argument is about to come to blows, Danny Lee's Officer Lee shows up, with a leggy floozie in yellow hot pants on his arm, and gets the investigative ball rolling by ordering them to take the body parts back to the lab.

Meanwhile, at a nearby restaurant, the establishment's new owner, Wong Chi-Hang (Anthony Wong), is cutting up a pig with a meat clever. Hmmm, I wonder if he's connected to the body parts from the beach? What am I saying? Of course he's connected.

Identifying the people who used to be attached to the severed limbs is proving difficult for the detectives (the limbs are rotten).

Even if they could get usable fingerprints from the severed hand, it would be impossible for the detectives to concentrate on their work. (Don't tell me, Danny Lee's Officer Lee has brought another leggy floozy to the office?) That's right, he has. And get this, she's a white chick. (All right, it's official, Danny Lee's Officer Lee is a pimp.)

Noticing that Robert, Bull and King Kong are salivating over the leggy floozy's large tits, Bo starts to feel self-conscious about her lack heft in the bra department.

Perfectly encapsulating the film's twisted sense of humour, one of the male detectives tells Bo that even if the leggy floozy currently skanking up a storm in the office got breast cancer and had to have half her tits surgically removed, Bo's tiny boobs would still be inferior to that of the mammarily reduced leggy floozy.

Getting nowhere fast, Bo gets an idea. No, this idea has nothing with tracking down a lead, she gets an idea after watching Danny Lee's Officer Lee leave the office with yet another leggy floozy, a slinky whore in a floral-style mini-dress.

While Bo is busy noodling with her idea, Wong Chi-Hang is cutting up another pig. Wait, that's not a pig, that's the cook he just hired. After the new cook accuses him of cheating at mahjong, Wong Chi-Hang decides to kill him. However, instead of dumping his body in the ocean (like a normal person), Wong Chi-Hang uses the cook's body to make cha siu bao (buns filled with barbecue-flavoured cha siu pork). Except instead of being filled with barbecue-flavoured cha siu pork, they're filled with barbecue-flavoured cha siu people.

Seriously, Danny Lee's Officer Lee should really think about leaving the leggy floozies at home. I mean, how is anyone supposed to get any work done? Hold up, that's no leggy floozy, that's Bo!!!

Wearing a tight mini-dress (covered in a black and purple diamond pattern), Bo wields her black nylon-adorned gams like a pair of shapely batons. Beating the men over the head with said gams (metaphorically, of course), Bo seems to be enjoying her new-found status as a leggy floozy.

Her enjoyment, however, is short-lived when the detectives get a break in the case. It would seem that the family that used to own Wong Chi-Hang's restaurant have relatives on the mainland. And these relatives are constantly sending letters to Macau inquiring about their whereabouts. Well, this leads the detectives to Wong Chi-Hang's restaurant.

Told to stop being a leggy floozy, Bo and her co-workers head over to have a "chat" with Wong Chi-Hang.

You would think that Danny Lee's Officer Lee would have put a moratorium on parading leggy floozies through the office–you know, since they're this close to catching a serial killer. But no, Danny Lee's Officer Lee brings another leggy floozy to work. Not counting Bo's brief stint as a leggy floozy, he brings a total of four leggy floozies to the workplace.

Fake bemoaning aside, it's a good thing the film had leggy floozies. Think about it, imagine if it didn't. That's right, if it didn't, we'd be talking about one of the sickest movies of all-time. Don't get me wrong, the film is still sick. It's just that the leggy floozies, and a couple of other factors, managed to mollify some of the film's more grisly aspects.

Of course, there's no way to mollify the scene where Wong Chi-Hang murders five small children. This sequence has to be the most heinous act ever to be captured on film. I don't know what it is about the Hong Kong sensibility that allows such barbarism to be shown, but there's nothing I think of that comes to topping the gruesomeness of the child murder scene in The Untold Story. I feel bad about ending this on such a dour note, but the last thirty minutes are brutal. Let me put it this way, it makes Red to Kill and Run and Kill look like walks in the motherhumpin' park compared to this.

Just a second, I want to listen to the theme song from this movie one more time before I begin. And... done. As usual, I was in a foul mood before I sat down to watch Friday the 13th Part III, the third film in the inexplicably popular horror franchise about a... well, you know what. And the opening scene, an extended recap detailing the events that occurred at the end of Part II, did nothing but exacerbate the foul nature of my mood (the most annoying thing about watching the Friday the 13th movies in reverse is the recap scenes pretty much ruin the endings of the previous chapters). Mildly irritated over the fact that yet another ending of a Friday the 13th was spoiled, I tried to put on a brave face as I prepared myself for the mediocrity that was surely to follow. To my surprise, however, this one unleashes the disco-tinged awesomeness that is this movies' theme music. Playing over the opening and closing credits (it's also heard briefly during the grocery store scene), the theme, by composer Harry Manfredini, managed to lift my spirits.

I know, you're thinking to yourself: Sure, the music that bookends the film is great and all, but there's still ninety-something minutes of "movie" to endure. In other words, I don't care how amazing the film's theme is, you're still going to have wade through what looks like a pretty formulaic teens in peril slasher movie.

You might be right, it does look like a "formulaic teens in peril slasher movie." But let's get one thing straight: There's nothing formulaic, or teenage, for that matter, about Cheri Maugans' knees.

(Most people when talking about Friday the 13th Part III will usually mention the fact this is the film where Jason Voorhees first dons his famous hockey mask, or the fact that this chapter is in 3-D before they inevitably start talking about Cheri Maugans' knees, but you played the Cheri Maugans knee card right away.)

First of all, I didn't play the Cheri Maugans knee card right away. As you can clearly see, I talked about the dangers of watching the Friday the 13th movies in reverse and Harry Manfredini's theme music before I breathed a perverted breath about Cheri Maugans' knees.

And secondly, who in their right mind wouldn't talk about Cheri Maugans' knees before all that other junk? Unless, of course, you have an aversion to sexy babes with agreeable knees. And judging by the cut of most of your jibs, I'd say you're totally down with the trajectory this review is currently taking.

Don't worry, I'll get to the foursome of slinky brunettes who vie for our attention during the bulk of this film's running time. I just want to bask in the sonic bouquet that is Harry Manfredini's theme music and revel in the irregular attractiveness that is Cheri Maugans a little while longer before I'm dragged–no doubt kicking and screaming–back into the ho-hum realm that is this uninspired franchise.

Since the aforementioned slinky brunettes and their male companions can't be killed by Jason right away, the film introduces what I like to call "bit part machete fodder." Characters, usually non-teens, who are introduced merely to be murdered in order to keep the audience's bloodlust satisfied until the second act mayhem gets underway.

Most of the time, the machete fodder aren't that interesting as far as characters goes. But sometimes the bit part machete fodder can surprise us. And that's exactly what Cheri Maugans does as "Edna," a woman who runs a market with her husband Harold (Steve Susskind). Now, the average Friday the 13th fan will take one look at Edna and think: "What a hosebeast." Not me, I saw Edna as a forthright go-getter with, yes, terrific gams.

Constantly nagging her husband to be less of a fuck up, Edna hurls a barrage of emasculating put-downs at him while bringing in the laundry (she can multitask like nobody's business). It's at around this time that Edna learns about the slaughter that took place nearby in the previous film on the news. Even though she's disturbed by what she hears, that doesn't stop her from berating Harold, who she finds trying to find solace with a bunny rabbit in the snack cake aisle.

The cool thing about the demise of Edna and Harold is that they're stalked and killed by a mask-less Jason; no hood either.

It's true, I was sad to see Edna go, but she served her purpose. If I ever do a Top 10 Friday the 13th Hotties list, I won't forget you Edna.

Arriving right on time, a van filled with slinky brunettes and their male companions appears onscreen. But wait, I thought there were four slinky brunettes, I only see three. What gives? Never mind, they're picking up the fourth slinky brunette at her house as we speak.

Don't get me wrong, I love slinky brunettes. But don't you think having four onscreen at the same time will confuse the audience? You would think that having one of the slinky brunettes, Vera Sanchez (Catherine Parks), be Latino would help alleviate some of the confusion. But it doesn't, as she's not that Latino, if you know what I mean. No, we're pretty much stuck with four dark-haired white chicks with indistinguishable personalities. *sigh*

It would seem that SCTV's parody of 3-D wasn't that far off in terms of accuracy, as Chili (Rachel Howard), the stoner brunette, just shoved a lit joint toward the camera, giving us our first taste of 3-D. Other items shoved in our faces over the course of the film include: Yo-yo's, eyeballs, spears, pitchforks and blood.

Okay, let's see, so far I've mentioned Vera, the Latino brunette, and Chili, the stoner brunette, who am I forgetting? All right, so, there's Chris Higgins (Dana Kimmell) and Debbie (Tracie Savage). Now, how should I sum up their characters? Well, Debbie's easy, she's obviously the blue bikini brunette, as she famously dons a blue bikini shortly after the teen arrive at "Higgins Haven." But what about Chris? How 'bout, the brunette brunette? Nah. The buzzkill brunette? That's a bit better. The axe-wielding brunette?

How do you denote someone a brunette-themed nickname based on their appearance or persona when they don't give you anything to work with?

Anyway, when we notice that Shelly (Larry Zerner), the group's resident prankster, has brought along with him a bag filled with horror props, we can't help but wonder if he has an old-timey hockey goalie mask tucked away somewhere in there. But before we can find out, Shelly and Vera must contend with a trio of unruly bikers. And just like Edna and Harold, the bikers, Ali (Nick Savage), Fox (Gloria Charles) and Loco (Kevin O'Brien), are nothing but bit part machete fodder. Though, at least they're somewhat interesting to look at; except for Debbie's blue bikini, none of the teens bring anything to the table in terms of fashion.

When Jason (Richard Brooker) finally does get around to targeting the film's leads, I had lost all interest in finding out who will live and who will die. And the prospect of watching one ratings board neutered kill after another wasn't that appealing either. The only things make Friday the 13th Part III worth watching are Cheri Maugans as Edna (putting rollers in her hair and having her wear a ratty-looking housecoat can't undermine her innate sex appeal), the film's theme song, and the 3-D spear-gun kill (a definite candidate for the best kill of the entire series).

Bloodied and battered, a haggard-looking, pee-stained Anthony Wong stands over his victims in triumph. Shortly after removing the tongue of his lover with a pair of scissors, Anthony Wong turns his attention to his lover's young daughter (who's hiding in a nearby closet). Interrupted just as he was about to set her on fire, Anthony Wong decides to take off, leaving the little girl covered in gasoline. If you're wondering who this Ebola stricken psychopath is going to kill next, do yourself a favour and stop... wondering about that. Are you sitting down? He doesn't have the Ebola virus. Well, not yet at least. But that's just the thing, if this is how Anthony Wong behaves when he doesn't have the Ebola virus, imagine what he's going to do when he does. Trust me, it's not going to be pretty. Oh, and I know for a fact that he's going to contract the Ebola virus. You wanna know why? It's simple, really, he's the star of Herman Yau's wonderfully vile Ebola Syndrome, yet another Category III sex and gore extravaganza that manages to make all other attempts at "cinema" seem totally lame by comparison.

If Anthony Wong didn't contract the Ebola virus in this movie, I would have (Yeah, yeah, you would have thrown a major hissy-fit.) You're goddamn right I would have thrown a major hissy-fit.

That being said, Ebola or no Ebola, Anthony Wong's Kai is someone you don't want to have on your bad side. On the surface, he might seem like a harmless goofball with a soft spot for shapely whores. But the second you hand him, oh, let's say, a pair of scissors, he's going to use them in a manner they weren't intended.

Seriously, though, don't ever hand Anthony Wong a pair of scissors. Now, I would love to tell Shing Fui-On (The Blue Jean Monster) this, but I'm afraid I can't, as Anthony Wong just killed him using the legs of a mahjong table. As the legs of the mahjong table began to crush his larynx, he probably thought to himself: Why, oh, why did I hand Anthony Wong those motherflippin' scissors?

You see, Anthony Wong is having an affair with Shing Fui-On's wife (Tsang Yin). And when Shing Fui-On (who is Anthony Wong's boss) and a friend catch them in the act, Shing threatens to cut off his penis. A blubbering Wong pleads with Fui-On on the behalf of his still attached penis. When that fails, Anthony asks if he can cut off his penis. This request clearly confused Fui-On, because he proceeds to hand over the scissors. I don't think I need to tell you what happens next.

Leaving Shing Fui-On's young daughter crying and covered in gasoline in her parent's Hong Kong apartment (in the mid-1980s), we jump forward ten years to find Kai working at a Chinese restaurant in Johannesburg, South Africa.

Hired by the owners, Kei (Lo Meng) and his wife (Cheung Lau), as a waiter (a low paid one at that), they obviously never saw Herman Yau and Anthony Wong's previous collaboration, The Untold Story. If they had, there's no way they would have hired him. But then again, it's implied that Kei and his wife know about Kai's murderous past in Hong Kong. Meaning, they shouldn't act surprised if they suddenly find their genitals on the menu.

I am surprised, however, that the Association of Chinese Restaurants didn't try to have The Untold Story and Ebola Syndrome banned, as they both manage to tarnish the Chinese dining experience.

Anyway, remember that little girl that Kai left covered in gasoline back in the '80s? Well, she's a flight attendant now. And guess where her next flight is headed? That's right, Johannesburg, South Africa.

The second the flight attendant enters the restaurant Kai works, she starts to feel sick. She can't quite put her finger on it, but something about this place causes her relive the day a crazed man killed her father with a mahjong table and cut off her mother's tongue with a pair of scissors. Though, it's obvious that she doesn't remember what Kai looked like, as she just asked him to direct her to the restaurant's washroom.

Even though she goes back to her hotel room, the flight attendant knows something sinister is afoot (she has nightmares about the place). Meanwhile, Kai is horny. After his attempt to pick up a prostitute ends in failure (Kai: "Fifty for a fondling?" Prostitute: "I only fuck white dudes... no yellow trash."), Kai masturbates into a hunk of pork (he uses a knife to create a makeshift vagina) while listening Kei have sex with his wife.

As expected, Kai puts the jizz-laden pork back in the fridge and serves it to customers the very next day. Oh, Kai, you're the most unpleasant character in film history.

Since the the local butcher shop refuses to give Kei a fair deal on pork, he and Kai drive into the bush to buy a pig from a nearby tribe of cannibals. Despite the fact the tribe's camp is littered with lesion-covered corpses, Kei and Kai buy a pig. On the way back, they experience some car trouble. While Kei works on the engine, Kai wanders off.

Noticing a woman collapse by a river, Kai approaches her. You won't believe what happens next. Oh, you do know what happens next. Well, aren't we demented today. Yep, Kai licks his hand and penetrates the unconscious woman with his penis.

Holy crap, how many orgasm faces is Anthony Wong going to make in this movie? I mean, he's already made three. Whatever, the unconscious woman starts to convulse and spits a milky substance in Kai's face.

To the surprise of no-one, Kai develops a fever. While out of commission, Kei and his wife argue about what to do with him. As they're doing this, Kai wakes up and kills them both; a third employee is killed after he starts snooping around.

If Kai didn't have Ebola, do you think he would have murdered them? It's hard to say. What's not hard to say is, Kai is a scumbag.

Chopping up Kei, his wife and the nameless employee, Kai turns them into "African pork buns" and serves them at the restaurant the very next day. Yum. And in doing so, gives everyone Ebola. Pretty soon people are collapsing and twitching all over Johannesburg.

Finding Kei's hidden stash of cash, Kai decides to go back to Hong Kong to cause more havoc. An Ebola carrier (he has the disease, but doesn't display the symptoms), Kai has no qualms whatsoever about spreading the virus. Did I mention he's a scumbag?

While living it up in the penthouse suite of a fancy hotel, Kai gets a hankering for some whores.

When room service fails to deliver him the whores he desires, Kai goes elsewhere for his whore-related needs.

Oh. My. God. Check out the whore in the tight red dress. Her shape is sublime. I'm guessing the "actress" who plays the thick whore in the tight red dress is Lori Shannon, as she's the only cast member who looks like a "Lori Shannon," if you get my drift.

When the prostitutes develop Ebola symptoms, the local authorities begin to search the city for the person responsible for knocking one of Hong Kong's shapeliest whores out of commission. But they shouldn't bother looking for Kai at that fancy hotel, as he has since moved in with old flame.

I don't know what's more disgusting, the South African autopsy scene or the sequence where Kai spreads the virus willy-nilly (the scene at the ice cream store is beyond gross). I'm gonna go with the latter. I know, it doesn't sound all that nasty on paper, but I nearly lost it when the band-aid on the finger of the ice cream store waitress comes loose while touching a spoon that had been in Kai's mouth.

One of the last Cat III movies to be made before the handover (all Hong Kong films made after 1997, if they want to play on Mainland, need to be approved by Chinese censors), Ebola Syndrome is distasteful, loathsome, hateful, nauseating, and sickening. In other words, it's one of the best Cat III movies ever made.

Would someone get these guys some helmets, was my first thought as I watched Kevin Bacon, Laurence Fishburne (Band of the Hand), Paul Rodriguez and Louis Anderson whiz through Manhattan traffic on their bikes in Quicksilver, the best disgraced stockbroker turned bike courier movie to come out in 1986. Then it dawned on me, people in the mid-80s didn't care about safety. I should know, I suffered a nasty gash to the head after falling off my bike as a kid; I wonder if the scar is still there? (this, by the way, occurred when I was a kid during the mid-2000s, not the mid-80s... I'm not some senile old fuck). Anyway, as this was dawning on me, I suddenly realized that this film would also have us believe that Louis Anderson is a New York City bike courier. I'll let that mental image sink in a bit. Think about it: Louis Anderson, bike courier. Actually, the thought of Paul Rodriguez riding a bicycle is pretty ridiculous as well (he just doesn't strike me as the athletic type). That being said, Kevin Bacon and Laurence Fishburne definitely do some bike riding in this movie. Granted, they probably used stunt doubles in the wide shots, but you could totally tell it was them during the close-ups.

Not seen as a long term career, your average NYC bike courier views his or her (but mostly his -- the film is severely lacking when it comes to showing female bike couriers) time in this particular racket as a stepping stone to something better.

At constant risk of being run over by the thousands of cars that race through the downtown core on a daily basis, the bike courier figures if they survive long enough, they can make enough money to allow them to pursue a less dangerous vocation.

However, in the case of a hot shot stockbroker named Jack Casey (Kevin Bacon), the opposite is true. Falling ass backwards into the fast-paced world of bike couriering all because he lost his so-called "magic touch," Jack is left with nothing. Losing not only all his money, but his parents' savings as well, Jack decides to shave his mustache, let his hair grow long and become the Kevin Bacon we all know and love.

What I mean is, the stockbroker version of Kevin Bacon is someone I don't want to be around. On the other hand, bike courier Kevin Bacon is the bees knees in terms of being likable and shit.

I'd like to circle back to the opening credits before I continue, as to not mention them would be a grave error on my part. While a black and white photo montage of various NYC bike couriers might not sound all that compelling. The way they coloured in certain articles of clothing combined with the music of Thomas Newman managed to turn them into something truly artistic.

Oh, and it should be noted that while an uncredited Thomas Newman does provide the music that appears over the opening credits, the film's score was actually composed by Tony Banks of Genesis.

Okay, now where was I? Ah, yes. Another way they signified Jack Casey's transformation from a putrid slab of yuppie scum to an affable, maroon beret-wearing NYC biker courier was to change the way he moves. The arrogant swagger he displayed as a stockbroker has been replaced by a more playful yet purposeful walk.

You could say Jack Casey always wanted to be a NYC bike courier. It's too bad he had to lose everything to find this out. The only reason I mention this is because of the manner in which he obtains his trademark maroon beret. I won't go into too much detail about how he obtained it (let's just say he found it on the street), but the fact that he held onto it speaks volumes about his character.

"Quicksilver" is the name of the NYC bike courier service Jack Casey now works for. However, since he's too busy delivering a package at the moment, it's up to Hector (Paul Rodriguez) to introduce us to his fellow riders. He does so for the benefit of the audience, but also for Terri (Jami Gertz), the new girl on the block.

Other than Louie Anderson, the only "fellow riders" I recognized were Laurence Fishburne, who plays Voodoo, and David Harris (Cochise from The Warriors), who plays, coincidentally, Apache. And judging by the way Hector interacts with Voodoo, it would seem that the latter is a bit of a dick.

While I would love to explain to you why Voodoo is such a dick, I can't right now, as Whitney Kershaw is stretching in a black leotard in Kevin Bacon's loft.

Best known for playing Sillabub in the original 1982 Broadway version of "Cats," Whitney plays Rand, Jack Casey's "friend." Oops, I shouldn't have said that. You see, Jack Casey gets in serious trouble when he calls Rand a friend. To make matters worse, he calls her that in front of Jami Gertz. I know, what a dope.

Nevertheless, the film's best non-bike riding scene is the one where Whitney Kershaw tries to dance (her black nylons pressing tightly against her you know what... *whispers softly* her pussy), but is constantly put off by Kevin Bacon's childish, bike-based antics.

The other cool thing about this scene–you know, besides Whitney Kershaw's outfit–is the fact that it's set to "Casual Thing" by Fiona; who Miami Vice fans will remember Fiona from "Little Miss Dangerous," a.k.a. one of the best episodes of the entire series; "This is what you want, this is what you get."

Since nothing will probably top the greatness of the scene with Kevin Bacon and Whitney Kershaw being sexy and adorable in their loft, I might as well wrap up this review. I don't know, I'm just not feeling the subplot that involves Hector trying to get a loan to buy a hot dog cart. And the scene where some of the couriers show off their skills when it comes to performing bike tricks didn't do anything for me.

In order to give the film some added tension, a nefarious character named Gypsy (Rudy Ramos) is introduced (a lurking enthusiast who drives a lumbering automobile). Using the bike couriers to deliver items of an illegal nature, once Gypsy gets his hooks into you, you're pretty much dead meat if you don't do as you're told ("I call, you come," is his motto). Unfortunately, Voodoo finds this out the hard way moments after a thrilling head-to-head bike race between him and Jack Casey through the streets of New York.

Without Voodoo around to deliver his goods, anyone care to guess who Gypsy envisions as his replacement? No, not Jack Casey, he offers the job to Terri, who naively accepts. Well, since Jack Casey has developed feelings for Terri, and he doesn't want the same thing to happen to her that happened to Voodoo... let's just say, they confront one another. Bike vs. Car, may the best mode of transportation win. My money is Bacon. Mmmm, a bike fueled by bacon. *exaggerated drooling noises*

Special thanks to Digital Orc for recommending this movie.

In order to prevent myself from experiencing Friday the 13th fatigue, I recently decided to start watch 'em two at a time. At first I thought I had made the right call, as I wasn't experiencing any fatigue whatsoever. Sure, there was some mild mental erosion and a shitload of regret, but no fatigue. Well, after recently enduring Part III and the so-called "The Final Chapter" back-to-back, I have to admit, I'm starting to feel a tad sluggish. Repeatedly hitting me over the head with the same tired formula, the Friday the 13th franchise has got to be one the of the most artistically bankrupt in movie history. Other than a few variations here and there, every film is exactly the same. Since I'm writing about it, let's take, for example, Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter (the fourth film in the teens in peril slasher series), which opens with Jason Voorhees (the world's most famous deformed drowning victim) coming back to life. Given that it's way too early for Jason to be killing the film's leads, he usually targets secondary characters who just happen to be in the area (a.k.a. bit part machete fodder). After these people are murdered, we're usually introduced to a young sexually inactive woman who lives with her mother in a house near a large body of water. And then suddenly, like a clockwork, a car, or a van, filled with horny (sexually active) teenagers shows up and moves in next-door.

The young sexually inactive woman develops a crush on one of the car/van boys at some point during the film, but he's typically killed by Jason just as she's about to put the moves on him. But he's not the first teen to die. No, that honour is usually reserved for the most sexually active (female) member of the group.

I'm sure this has been said a thousand times before, but I think these films are trying to say that sex is bad. Or at least they're trying to imply that if you have sex, you will be brutally murdered. On the other hand, if you don't have sex, you might live to see the end credits.

What am I saying? Trying to imply?!? These films are blatantly anti-sex. In fact, they're downright puritan at times. Ugh, I can't believe I just watched... Wait, how many have I watched so far? 1, 2, 3... Okay. Someone call an ambulance, I've just been subjected to six puritan propaganda films. Luckily for me, I watched them in groups of two, so their corrosive message had little effect on my psyche. But still, you should add "dirty and ashamed" to the long list of things these films have caused me to feel.

While it's obvious that these films have a pro-abstinence agenda, that doesn't mean a skilled degenerate like myself can't find tiny droplets of perversion languishing between all the film's sexless sermonizing.

Even though a major hurt is coming their way, we can still enjoy the puerile antics of the film's vagina and cock-starved characters; who, like I said, just arrived and are ready to party like it's 1984.

After a lengthy recap that features clips from parts 1, 2 and 3 and a dull opening credits sequence, we're whisked to the hospital where Jason's "dead body" was taken. The reason I put the phrase "dead body"in quotes is because Jason ain't dead. In a shocking twist, Jason comes back to life to kill more teenagers.

Of course, he can't kill any teenagers this early in the movie, so, he settles instead on a sexy nurse (Lisa Freeman, Savage Streets) and a horny orderly named Axel (Bruce Mahler, Rabbi Glickman from Seinfeld). The best part of this sequence is not that Axel's head is cut off with a saw, but the fact he's watching Aerobicise just before he loses it (his head).

Technically, I should mention that the film's lead character is introduced in the next scene, but the sight of Corey Feldman (National Lampoon's Last Resort) playing Zaxxon in an alien mask is too distracting. A fedora-less Corey Feldman plays Tommy Jarvis, the younger brother of Trish Jarvis (Kimberly Beck, Roller Boogie), who is anxious because six teenagers are apparently moving in next-door.

When I saw that the six teenagers were four boys and two girls, I let out an annoyed sigh. That being said, two of the male of teens are played by Lawrence Monoson (The Last American Virgin) and Crispin Glover (Rubin and Ed). And since these two are the film's most capable actors, they're given a long dialogue scene in the back of the car where their characters, Ted and Jimmy, discuss matters of the heart.

After Ted calls Jimmy a "dead fuck," and after they fail to pick a hitchhiker (Bonnie Hellman), the six teens arrive at their destination (the hitchhiker, of course, is killed by Jason moments after the teens drive by her without stopping).

Since the other characters were virtually ignored during the car ride, we learn a little about the group's two female members. It would seem that Samantha (Judie Aronson, Weird Science) is a bit of a skank, and that Sara (Barbara Howard) is not... a bit of a skank. Hmmm, I wonder which of these young ladies is going to be murdered by Jason first.

In order to even up the female to male ratio, twins Tina (Camilla More) and Terri (Carey More) are introduced (they just happened to riding their bikes along the same path the teens were).

Of course, Crispin Glover sees this sudden influx of semi-attractive twins as an opportunity to prove to The Last American Virgin that he isn't a dead fuck. And what better way to disprove this than by dancing spastically to "Love is a Lie" by Lion for Terri's benefit?

I don't know what I liked better, the sight of Crispin Glover dancing to heavy metal party rock or Kimberly Beck's predilection for prancing around in shirt dresses. It's a tough call. But I will say this, Crispin Glover's dance is the only thing in this movie that didn't smack of trite tedium. Similar to Tiffany Helm's scene in Friday the 13th: A New Beginning, Crispin injects the film with a much needed dose of creativity.

In fact, the only thing that director Joseph Zito (the man responsible for the bland and uninspired The Prowler, a film totally not worthy of the HOSI touch) gets right in this film is his decision to allow Crispin to choreograph his own dance moves. At any rate, while not as terrible as Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives and Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan, Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter proves that the franchise was already starting to overstay its welcome. Oh, and unless I change my mind, that's it as far as Friday the 13th movies go. I'm done, see ya!

What the fuck, I don't remember the 1990s ever being like this. It just goes to show that even someone as exceedingly cool as myself can miss out on certain key events. And believe me, Mod Fuck Explosion is definitely a motherfuckin' key event. It's not only an event that is key-like (or key-esque) in nature, it's the closest thing I've seen to my life story captured on film. Now, granted, my mother isn't a pill freak (at least not to my knowledge), nor is my face anywhere close to being as dynamic as the face that belongs to the film's female lead, but I distinctly remember being friends, by association, of course, with a gang of unruly mods (the kind that wear fishtail parkas, smash garden gnomes for fun and listen to The Action). Forced to endure/put up with their misguided obsession with a subculture I had little or no respect for, I patiently waited for the right opportunity to cut these losers loose. Well, in Joe Moritsugu's Mod Fuck Explosion, the über-chic, über gorgeous London finds herself pretty much in the same situation.

In reality, my experience as a juvenile delinquent seemed more in tune with Nasty, London's gothy sister. It's sad to say, but when all your so-called "friends" are into things that you know deep down are lame, you end up spending a lot of time alone in your room. *sniff*

As I was saying, caught in the middle of an impending rumble that will pit the mods (the gang her brother's in) against the bikers (Japanese bikers, to be ethnically specific), the self-proclaimed teenage fuck up must choose between love and violence.

One, two, three, four! Wait, what is this movie called again? (27 Dresses?) No, I remember, it's Mod Fuck Explosion. And you wanna know how I remember? Um, because the film's title is mentioned repeatedly during the opening five minutes. And why wouldn't you... mention it? The movie is called "Mod Fuck Explosion." In other words, rinse, lather and repeat, baby! Mod. Fuck. Explosion!

Wandering down the street in her lacy bell-bottoms, London (Amy Davis), the poster girl for sullen teens everywhere, is surrounded by a gang of Japanese bikers. Noticing that she was admiring a leather jacket in the window of a store, their leader, Kazumi (Jon Moritsugu), tells her, straight-up, that he can get her a leather jacket. The catch being, she come party with them. Declining his offer, London continues on her way. But not before Kazumi shows her his chest and says: "Check out my chest. Cool, huh?"

Since we've met the Japanese bikers, it only makes sense to introduce the mods. The first mods we meet are Cake (Alyssa Wendt), Cherry (Bonnie Dickenson), Shame (Lane Mclain), Columbine (Abigail Hamilton), Babette (Deena Davenport) and Snap (Sarah Janeane Pullen), who are gabbing about their mod boyfriend's prowess when it comes to the control-related fortitude they display when they employ their testicular outreach programs during coitus.

One after another, each mod chick tells the group about their respective boyfriend's thrusting-based inadequacies. All except Cake, who has nothing but praise for her boyfriend's ability to make her loins dewy. It would seem that Madball (Jacques Boyreau), the leader of the mods, is a gentle lover whose pelvic thrusts are as smooth as homemade molasses.

With the elevator in her building not working, London is forced to take the stairs (exercise was frowned upon in the '90s). When she eventually gets to her apartment, she finds her mother (Bonnie Steiger) and her mod brother, X-Ray Spex (Victor of Aquitaine) playing the "wrestling game" on the couch (incest much?).

When London tells her mother to stop acting like a whore, mom shoots back: "The whore is an emblem of womanhood."

Anyway, mom likes art books, chocolate covered ants, gossip, ugly furniture and talking on the telephone.

How do I know this? It's simple, London, on top of being interesting to look at, is very descriptive. And quite generous when it comes to doling out her mom's back-story. I loved how London gives us a detailed account of the events that make up the average day in her mother's life. As you might expect, most of these so-called "events" centre around ingesting pills.

Her mom might be a mess (a leggy mess, mind you, but a mess nonetheless), but that doesn't mean London's going to wallow in a pit of her own teen angst. Starting every scene by tucking her hair behind her ears (much like Angela Chase used to constantly do on My So-Called Life), London doesn't want anything from this shit stain of a city. Well, except maybe a leather jacket.

Not to get sidetracked, but I found the fact that Madball likes to call his semen "his juice" to be somewhat disturbing? Refusing to fornicate with Cake in an alleyway, Madball doesn't want to waste "his juice "on the day of the big rumble. Apparently, "his juice" gives him strength.

We soon meet another character, who, like London, is on the outside when it comes to the mod-biker rivalry. His name is M-16 (think Ralph Macchio with a hint of Sal Mineo) and he likes to call London up every once and awhile and read to her a story he came across in the paper; they usually involve murder and suicide.

Speaking of things that cause death, did anyone else notice the sound of crows cawing as Madball denied Cake the use of his cock? I'm not superstitious, but this cannot bode well for the mods.

After a dream sequence that has London talking about being a member of "The Shit Generation," a generation that is, according to her: "Stupid, strangulated, straitjacketed, stunted and sexually unsatisfied," she is visited by a woman named Cleopatra (Elisabeth Canning), the patron saint of shit, or was it poop? Either way, while reclining in London's bath-tub, Cleopatra serenades her with a ditty about diarrhea (loose and watery fecal matter).

Later in the movie, Cleopatra visits M-16 (Desi del Valle) while performing auto-erotic asphyxiation on himself in a dirty warehouse. But this time around she's the patron saint of masturbation, or was it self-massage? Either way, Cleopatra, who is wearing black nylons, tries to steer M-16 off this particular path, and more towards the realm of conventional one-on-one sexual intercourse.

Hi, my name is Nasty, and I like schizophrenic painters, tortured writers, fashion designers, low and vulgar literature, porno movies, video games, punk music, motorcycles, tattoo artwork, homo poetry, disaster and murder magazines and the horoscope. I hate high culture.

Played with a Cure-adjacent indifference by Lisa Guay, Nasty is London's older sister, a bit of a minor celebrity who spends most of her time drawing cartoons. Oh, and London can forget about it, she can't have her leather jacket.

Desperate to obtain a leather jacket of her very own, London decides to sell some of her rare records.

"Welcome to Fucker" by Fucker, 50 bucks.

"Skunk" by Asshole, 75.

The Shit-matrix bootleg, a lot.

And her limited edition DILDO! LP, 100, easily.

Like London, I, too, think the records in my modest collection are worth more than they actually are. The band Unrest, by the way, perform the majority of the songs on the film's soundtrack.

The only motion picture, at least that I know of, to feature a scene where a character robs a record store of its only plaster statue of Grace Jones' penis, Mod Fuck Explosion is the kind of filmed anarchy that would make Gregg Araki (who is thanked in the closing credits), John Michael McCarthy (The Sore Losers) and John Waters proud. Oh, and of course, the actor who steals the plaster statue of Grace Jones' penis is credited as "Cock thief." In closing, who would have thought there was more to the 1990s than Hammer time? Mod. Fuck. Explosion! It sure beats masturbating with garden gloves.

Roughly three years after bringing us the super-cool mods vs. bikers epic, Mod Fuck Explosion, writer-director Jon Moritsugu returns with Fame Whore, a movie that features three separate stories interwoven to make one sort of succinct motion picture. (Huh?) What a mean is, one of the stories (the one that takes place in New York City) should definitely be called "Fame Whore." However, the title doesn't really apply to the other two, which are set in Trenton, Jersey and San Francisco respectively. While that's an interesting observation, what's even more interesting is the origin of the term "fame whore." I always thought the saucy phrase was a product of the reality show boom of the early 2000s. But, as you can clearly see, this film is not from the early 2000s. What I'm trying to say is, did Jon Moritsugu come up with the expression? If so, kudos. The idiom, if you don't know, is a term used to describe someone who is so desperate to become famous, that they will do just about anything to achieve this goal.

Sure, the title doesn't really apply to all three stories, which, like I said, are interwoven together. And the origin of the expression "fame whore" is on the cusp of being interesting and/or fascinating. But the reason I'm writing about this film is because of Amy Davis, who stars as Sophie, the world's most deluded woman.

Remember how I prattled on obsessively about Amy Davis's face in my soon to be award winning review of Mod Fuck Explosion? Well, I'm pleased to inform you that not only is Amy Davis's face still awesome, but her acting has greatly improved as well.

Now, I don't mean to imply that she wasn't a good actress in Mod Fuck Explosion. On the contrary, I found her perpetually confused mug to be rather endearing in that film. It's just that she's so brilliantly deadpan in Fame Whore, that I could easily be excused for mistaking her for another actress. But let's be blunt, shall we? There's no way I could mistake Amy Davis for another actress. In fact, there's no way I could mistake Amy Davis for anyone the world over, as she oozes rarefied form of uniqueness.

Don't worry, I'll get to the other stories–you know, the one's that don't star Amy Davis–in a minute. It's just that I need to get my love for Amy Davis out of my system.

I just remembered what connects the three stories featured in Fame Whore. They all take place on April 15. I know, it's not much, but it's something.

Anyway, after the listening to the film's bratty theme song ("I'm a fame whore! Can't you give me more and more.") we're introduced to Sophie (Amy Davis) and J (Jason Rail), her long suffering assistant. If you're wondering what Sophie's last name is, don't bother, she doesn't have one. Her motto is: If Madonna and Cher don't have last names, why should she? Actually, I'm not entirely sure if that's her motto or not. But it seems feasible.

You could say the reason J is suffering is because he has to listen to Sophie's grating monotone voice all day long. However, I wouldn't say that, as I found Sophie's voice to be quite heavenly. Okay, maybe heavenly is a bit of a stretch. But I did come to love it as the film progressed. It also helped that almost everything that came out of her mouth was pretty freakin' hilarious.

Oh, would you look at that, I still haven't mentioned the other stories that make up the Fame Whore family.

All right, let's get this out of the way. The first one takes place in San Francisco and follows the misadventures of Jody George (Peter Friedrich), the #1 ranked tennis player in the world. A huge asshole, Jody spends most of the movie berating his manager (Michael Fitzpatrick), beatboxing, watching porn, speaking in the third person, tipping bellboys autographed tennis balls, giving head to shapely hotel maids, and, oh, yeah, desperately trying to squash rumours that he's gay.

However, unlike gay athletes today (Michael Sam comes to mind), Jody fears that these rumours will cause him to lose his lucrative sponsorship deals. To illustrate how many sponsorships could potentially be at risk, Jon Moritsugu pans up Jody's body, stopping every and now then to point out one of his sponsors. Everything from the shoes on his feet to the dandruff shampoo on his head earn Jody truckloads of money.

The second story is about George (Victor of Aquitaine), a nervous ninny who works at the Urban Dog Placement Center, a Trenton, New Jersey dog shelter. When he's not getting crank calls or people calling up complaining the dog they got at his shelter is pissing all over their fancy (museum quality) quilts, George can usually be found in his office chatting with Mr. Peepers, the imaginary giant dog who comes and goes over the course of the day.

In-between all the crank calls, complaints and conversions with Mr. Peepers about organic food, George has a nasty encounter with Sabrina Mayflower (Izabela Wojcik), a woman who wants to adopt a dog. This, however, will never happen, as George refuses to deal with someone who wears fur. "Real fur is for real fools," he tells her, as he kicks her out of his office.

While these two stories are entertaining and, at times, mildly satirical, the real jewel in the Fame Whore crown is hands down Sophie's saga. And I'm not just saying that because I'm obsessed with Amy Davis. Okay, maybe a little bit. Nevertheless, the Sophie saga has a lot of bite to it, especially when it coming to mocking our celebrity-obsessed culture.

I'm still having trouble believing this film is from the late 1990s. The only solid evidence I have that this film was shot in the late 1990s comes whenever Jon Moritsuga shows Sophie talking on a cellular telephone. It's true, the size of the cell phone practically screamed Clueless. But it's the manner in which the phone is used that caused me to think that this film was actually shot in the late 1990s. You see, back in the '90s, in order to convey to the audience that a character was a douchebag, the director would simply have them use a cellular telephone, as cell phone usage back then was synonymous with douchiness. This technique is impossible to employ today, as almost everyone uses a cellular telephone... and almost everyone is a douchebag.

Whew, I'm glad that's settled. In order to recover from the excessive profundity I just threw in your face, please enjoy a sampling of "Femanatomy by Sophie," the hottest item from Sophie's new fashion line, It's All About Sophie. Model: Turquoise

On top of being a fashion designer, Sophie is also a video artist, a painter, an actress, a photographer, a producer, an art director, an image consultant, a playwright and a performance artist.

Is she any good at any of these occupations? How the fuck should I know? As Sophie would say, "Having priorities is what separates us from the savages." Meaning, you gotta keep busy in this hectic go for broke universe. And no one is busier than Sophie. A startling vision of what society would eventually become, the Sophie segment of Fame Whore exams how vanity mixed with insecurity will be the world's downfall.

Oh, and I would have loved to have seen the model Sophie says this about at one point: "If she had anymore of an under-bite, we could use her as an ashtray. Sadly, all the models for Sophie's doomed music video all appear off-screen; one of the many drawbacks to independent film-making.

I've read that in the early days of MTV, the then music video channel would play just about anything. Now, this policy had nothing to do with MTV being open-minded or adventurous, it was like that because they to had play something. You see, music videos in the early 1980s were still a bit of a novelty. Meaning, not every artist bothered to make a music video. So, if you were in a band with a music video, the chances of it getting it played on MTV were pretty good. What does this have to do with Rock Hard, a Taija Rae porno movie from 1985? It's simple, really, if I was in charge of deciding what got played and what didn't get played on MTV, I would have flat-out refused to air "Hotter Than Hot" by Adonna and The Sexelettes on the grounds that it sucks ass. Seriously, what was that? Okay, I get it, Adonna (Taija Rae) is the singer. But what are those other chicks doing? Are they even in the band? Ugh. We wouldn't be in this mess if writer-director Bob Vosse (Yank My Doodle, It's a Dandy! and She-Male Sex Clinic) had the horse sense to hand them guitars. Hell, even a tambourine would have been a step in the right direction.

And don't give me any of this crap about musical props being expensive. The opening scene clearly shows a drum-kit and two mannequins, one with a guitar and one with a bass guitar.

Look at them, they're right there. Grab 'em.

That being said, it sort of makes sense that Adonna and The Sexelettes were kinda terrible. Think about it, they would have to have sexual intercourse with almost everyone connected to the music industry in order to get their shitty music video on the air. And–you guessed it–that's exactly what they end up doing. Humping anything with a pulse, Adonna and The Sexelettes literally fuck their way to the top.

After enduring the music video for "Hotter Than Hot" (which is played in its entirety during the opening credits) Taija Rae's Adonna gets right down to business at hand by massaging the cock attached to her manager's crotch with the inside of her mouth. Even though they're technically a couple, Adonna treats Phil (Jerry Butler) more like a boy-toy. In other words, she'll continue to let him make the flesh on her juicy, pale ass ripple as a direct result of his pelvic thrusts as long it helps her career.

Call me avuncular tree frog, but I simply adored how each thrust caused a brand new ripple to appear along the surface of Taija Rae's untanned backside.

Pinning her legs back as far back as they will go, Phil penetrates Adonna with not as much gusto as I would have liked. The fact Adonna obviously wanted to be somewhere else minimized the impact of his thrusts. And it didn't help that Phil and Adonna stopped to chat every once and awhile either.

I did like Taija's purple satin garter belt and the torn up nature of her black stockings, which looked like they had just survived a nuclear explosion.

While to a certain degree it was also annoying that the opening sex scene between Taija Rae and Jerry Butler is periodically interrupted by the scene where The Sexelettes try to convince a VJ to play their video, I wasn't too upset, as the scene introduces us to Ultra Box!!!!

Yep, you heard right, Rock Hard has a character named Ultra Box, who I'm officially declaring to be one of the greatest movies characters of all-time. Sure, a lot my hyperbolic praise has got to do with the fact that she's called "Ultra Box," but Patti Cakes, the actress saddled with the task of bringing Ultra Box to life, is simply amazing.

It doesn't have to be noted, but unlike Taija Rae, and Nina Hartley, who plays Cindi Looper, Patti Cakes doesn't have hundreds of credits on her resume (according to my research, Patti Cakes only appeared in ten movies during her film career).

Anyway, Cindi Looper, who is wearing an orange sweater dress with a longer pink dress underneath it (creating a nice layering effect) and Ultra Box, who is wearing black stockings with a short skirt, approach Billy VJ (Billy Dee), the VJ for a MTV-style music channel.

She hasn't said a word yet, but I like Ultra Box already; she starts clawing at her skirt (reveling the tops of her stockings with every claw).

When Billy VJ implies that there is something they can do to get their video played on the air, Ultra Box assumes he's talking about money, and says, "I thought payola was unlawful." Ahh, I love it. Her voice is so snotty and uncouth; she would be perfect in an early John Waters' movie.

He's not talking about money, by the way, he's talking about sex. Pulling out the mattress he had tucked away underneath the studio mixing board, Billy VJ invites Cindi Looper and Ultra Box to dine on his genitals.

Wearing a red ruffle garter belt, a giant blue crucifix earring and sporting pink highlights in her hair, Ultra Box is the one who gets jizzed on when Billy VJ is finished. Or does she? I know her bush is thick and all, but I can't see any cum. Man, what a piss poor cumshot. Whatever. Lying in a post-coital heap together, Billy informs the ladies that he can set up an appointment with the station's program director (he doesn't have the authority to decide what gets on air).

Meanwhile, Adonna is over at her record label's sales department to smooth talk Super Sales (Eric Edwards), his secretary (Mai Lin) and Dave Darling (Francois Papillon), an art director (he's in charge of designing the video boxes).

My initial thought when Adonna comes barging onto their office was: Holy crap, that pink dress with the zipper sleeves is so fucking chic. However, after that initial thought had subsided, I thought to myself: I wonder how much cocaine Taija Rae did before shooting this scene?. And it would seem that I wasn't the only one who was thinking this, as Eric Edwards asks Adonna at one point if she's on anything.

After giving Adonna's body the once over, Dave Daring suggests that since Cindi Looper and Ultra Box aren't there, that Super Sales and Mai Lin stand-in for them in order that he imagine what the box art will look like. One thing leads to another, and the four end up having group sex on the floor.

As was the case with the studio scene with Cindi and Ultra Box, the music during the floor foursome is all wrong. I mean, the jazzy score just doesn't fit with the tone of the movie. If this had been, oh, let's say, a Doris Wishman-directed nudie cutie flick from 1964, it would have been perfect. But this film is about hot new wave chicks fucking their way to the top in 1985.

Wearing pink pantyhose, knee-high black boots, a pink top covered in splotchy black dots, multiple gold chains around her neck and a short black and white skirt, Cindi Looper shows up at the office of Joan (Lili Marlene), a booking agent of some kind. And I don't have to tell you what happens next. For those who don't know, Cindi Looper and Joan engage in lesbian sex with BSDM undertones.

Since Adonna and Cindi Looper have both tried to get their band's music video air play by employing sexual favours, it only makes sense that Ultra Box give it a shot. And her target is Mr. Wilson (Roger Scorpio), the music video channel's program director. As luck would have it, Mr. Wilson digs trampy chicks who talk dirty. And no one comes close to being as trampy or vulgar as Ultra Box. Unlike the previous scenes, the one between Ultra Box and Mr. Wilson has pep. What I mean is, there's nary a dull moment. This is because Ultra Box never stops berating Mr. Wilson, who is inundated with crass put-downs and insults of an emasculating nature.

My favourite line during the cunnilingus/annilingus portion of their love-making session is this Ultra Box gem: "I'm going to cum all over your executive neck-tie, you asshole!" Though, I have to say, "Come on, faggot. Give it to me," has its charms as well. Oh, and when Ultra Box informs Mr. Wilson: "I'll show you what Ultra Box is," I didn't doubt her for a second.

There was a moment when I got scared, as I didn't think Mr. Wilson had it in him. It occurs after Mr. Wilson had just expelled a modest amount of seminal fluid all over Ultra Box' ample hindquarters. When she instructs him to lick it off, I wanted to crawl under a rock. Assuming that Mr. Wilson would ignore her request, I braced for the awkwardness that was surely to come. To my unexpected delight, Mr. Wilson does exactly as he's told and laps up his spunky leavings with more vigor than I expected. You rock, Mr. Wilson.

Unfortunately, the same can't be said for Ron Jeremy's Teddy Turner; this guy's repulsive. Nonetheless, if Adonna, Cindi Looper and Ultra Box wanna get their music video on the air, this is is man to see, or, I should say, this is the man to fuck. I know, you're thinking to yourself: Why don't they just upload their shitty music video to YouTube? (that's what everyone else does). Believe or not, there was no YouTube in 1985. So, on the downside, they have to fuck Ron Jeremy in order to get famous. On the plus side, they wear pink (Cindi Looper), red (Ultra Box) and yellow (Adonna) stockings while doing so.

Despite having a lead character who sports what I consider to be one of the greatest haircuts of all-time and opening with a shot of Rosie Perez's booty in all its mid-90s glory, I was still on the fence about Perdita Durango (a.k.a. Dance with the Devil), Álex de la Iglesia's raucous road movie about, well... I'll get to that in a minute. Then something occurred that caused me to sit up and take notice. No, not the scene where Harley Cross briefly recalls the time he lost his virginity to a rotund woman with an profound pair of sagittally symmetrical indentations on her lower back (pound that chaste cock into the ground, you chunky harlot, you... pound it!). I'm talking about the face Javier Bardem makes while listening "Spanish Flea" by Herb Alpert and The Tijuana Brass. I know, that's a weird thing to get excited about it, especially in a movie where James Gandolfini gets hit by a car not once, but twice. But what I can say? I'm sucker for scenes in movies that feature demented psychopaths with kick-ass haircuts making funny faces while listening to jazzy pop music as two blubbering blonde gringos cower in the backseat of said demented psychopath's car.

The mechanics surrounding how those blubbering blonde gringos ended up in the back of the car belonging to Romeo Dolorosa (Javier Bardem) is somewhat complicated, yet, it's also pretty straightforward at the same time.

If you were to tell me that the reason Romeo and Perdita Durango (Rosie Perez) plucked Duane (Harley Cross) and Estelle (Aimee Graham) off the streets of Juárez was for cannibal-related purposes, I would say that, yes, that's "pretty straightforward."

However, if you were to add the fact that both Romeo and Perdita develop crushes on Duane and Estelle (who are as white as their names imply), I would have no choice but to declare their particular situation "somewhat complicated."

Yet another movie that has cast some serious doubts on my previous claims about being alive during 1990s (I have no idea how I missed this film), Perdita Durango is one of the most well-made pieces of trash cinema I've ever had to pleasure to witness. I mean, check out that aerial shot of all those cars waiting at that Mexico-U.S.A. border crossing. The last film I saw with aerial photography this good would have to be Cavegirl. What I'm trying to say in my own clumsy way is that, I don't usually get to see films that sport complicated aerial photography. Seriously, it was like something out of a Michael Bay movie.

Later that night, near that very border crossing, Romeo spots Perdita Durango's reflection in the Herb Alpert and The Tijuana Brass compact disc he is currently holding. As Romeo approaches Perdita Durango, who is enjoying a cool beverage, I thought to myself: Nothing good can come from talking to a man with a haircut like that.

Short in the front and long in the back (with the sides shaved), Romeo's haircut is a force of nature in this film.

As she proves in the film's opening scene, Perdita Durango isn't the kind of woman you simply walk up and start a conversation with (earlier in the film, she shuts down the pedestrian advances of a lumpy gringo in an airport lounge). But, as we all know, judging by his haircut and his crazed demeanour, Romeo is no lumpy gringo. In other words, I think these two were made for each other.

When he's not taking the time to inspect the breasts of attractive bank tellers in the middle of a bank robbery, or having exuberant sexual intercourse with Perdita Durango on a rickety old bed (there's no way that bed can handle the Latin-tinged thrusts Romeo's workmanlike pelvis puts out there on a regular basis), Romeo conducts bizarre "voodoo style" rituals for tourists and superstitious locals.

Usually involving blood-spitting and bongo music, the first show of this type we see is well-attended, and... Wait a minute, who's that in that back with the video camera? Why, it's Willie Dumas (James Gandolfini), an officer with the DEA.

It would seem that the DEA want to bust Romeo for a series of drug-related offenses. Only problem being, they can never seem to catch him in the act. We're clued in early on as to why this could be, when we see Romeo employ a magic necklace to great effect to pass through customs unmolested. Except, he wasn't trying to smuggle drugs into the U.S., he was trying to smuggle a dead body; one that we later see him use in his "voodoo style" ritual show.

Figuring he can get to Romeo through Perdita Durango, James Gandolfini follows her around town. While an excellent plan on paper, James Gandolfini clearly forgot about the importance of looking both ways before crossing the street. Now, it might not sound like it, but the sight of James Gandolfini getting hit by a car is one of the funniest scenes in the movie. I don't want to over-analyze the reasons why I thought the sight of James Gandolfini's body crashing into the windshield of a speeding automobile was funny. But I will say this, the bulk of the humour came as a direct result of the arrogant air that floated around James Gandolfini's nimbus just before he started to cross the street.

At around this point in film we're introduced to Duane and Estelle, two relatively clean cut American teens. While their introduction seems unrelated to the Romeo and Perdita Durango saga, as we'll soon find out, their respective lives will soon intersect something fierce.

Blessed with some downtime before they do a job for a gangster named Santo (Don Stroud)–a job that has them transporting a trucked filled with frozen human embryos–Romeo and Perdita Durango decide to kidnap a couple of gringos to use in their next "voodoo style" ritual. And wouldn't you know it, they pluck a couple of blonde gringos named Duane and Estelle.

Even though it's best known as the song that appears at the end of Flirting with Disaster, I thought the way "Camel Walk" by Southern Culture on the Skids used in this film was more appropriate. You wouldn't think the same could said for "Spanish Flea" by Herb Alpert and The Tijuana Brass, but, as I stated earlier, the sight of Javier Bardem dancing–whilst in the seated position–to this particular ditty is awesome.

Will Duane and Estelle be able to survive their insane road trip with Romeo and Perdita Durango? Will James Gandolfini remember to look both ways before crossing the street? Who's to say? Of course, I realize I'm the one "to say." But I feel like I've already said too much.

Boasting not one, but two shoot outs (three, if you include the finale), a sexy Mexican stoner chick with killer thighs who doesn't "get" anime, Mascaras de la Lucha Libre, a gruesome death involving a bottle, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, an Ava Gardner assisted blow job, Alex Cox as an annoying DEA agent and a scene where a man over fifty-five uses an Abflex while watching The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Perdita Durango is a first-rate crime movie with darkly comedic overtones.

Since I'm a bad boy who doesn't play by the motherfuckin' rules (that's right, I said doesn't), it only makes sense that I watch the first chapter of Gregg Araki's Teenage Apocalypse Trilogy last. And to the surprise of virtually no-one, this chapter is loaded with teen angst and plenty of butt-fucking. Presented as "fifteen random celluloid fragments,"Totally Fucked Up (a.k.a. Totally F***ed Up) is a cautionary tale about the dangers that can arise when you let a guy sporting a My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult t-shirt into your heart. Don't get me wrong, I love their early stuff (Confessions of a Knife... is the shit), but this guy is wearing a My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult t-shirt that features artwork from the "Kooler Than Jesus" 12" single. In other words, run, James Duval, run! Take your racially ambiguous ass and get the hell away from him. He's going to hurt you!!!! Wow, see how easy that was? That's what's so great about the film's in Gregg Araki's Teenage Apocalypse Trilogy, I'm able to relate to just about anything that transpires onscreen. What I think I'm trying to say is, they're clearly made by someone who is cool. And by "cool," I mean they like industrial music, they aren't afraid of sex and they have a sly sense of humour.

Sure, you're thinking to yourself, lot's of other directors have sex scenes and sly humour peppered throughout their movies. Yeah, I suppose they do. But do they like industrial music? Let me answer that question for ya: They don't. Or, if they do, they don't show it. Well, Gregg Araki definitely shows it.

The only director that I'm aware of to acknowledge of the existence of industrial and shoegazer music simultaneously, it's obvious that Gregg Araki loves music, as his films, particularly the one's in the Teenage Apocalypse Trilogy, are stuffed to the gills with songs.

Anyone who is even vaguely familiar with either of these music scenes will recognize songs by Coil, Red House Painters, Numb, Pale Saints, The Wolfgang Press, Ministry, 16 Volt, Unrest, My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult, Ride and His Name Is Alive.

If being cutting edge when it comes to music wasn't enough, Gregg Araki also manages to predict the rise of self-absorption. To be fair, people have always been self-absorbed. However, since the dawn of the video camera, the self-absorbed have started to document their lives for all to see. And Gregg Araki captures this burgeoning phenomenon by having one of his characters film himself for some kind of video diary. While what he's doing might not seem de rigueur in the early 1990s, millions are partaking in this sort of behaviour as we speak.

Everything from the purchasing of food, to the eating of food, to the shitting of food is recorded for posterity.

In a not-so shocking twist, James Duval, who plays an eighteen year-old named Andy, starts off the movie by saying, "I guess you could say I'm totally fucked up" (all these movies start off this way).

Introduced via video confessional, we also meet Tommy (Roko Belic), Deric (Lance May), Steven (Gilbert Luna), the maker of these videos, and gal pals Michelle (Susan Behshid) Patricia (Jenee Gill), who are bored and disenfranchised.

While it was difficult for me to relate to the feeling of disenfranchisement the characters experience throughout this film (since they don't like disco, Joan Crawford or drag balls, they feel cut off from the majority of the gay population), the way teenage boredom is depicted, however, was spot-on, as I, too, remember wasting an entire summer standing around in front of a convenience store; after they told us to scram, we'd usually head over to a nearby parking garage.

Speaking of which, one of the parking garage hang out scenes in this movie features the best use of a My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult song, "The Devil Does Drugs," in motion picture history.

Anyway, these video confessions deal with a variety of topics. While I can't remember everything they talked about, I do recall sex being a major topic of conversation.

After enduring seven "random celluloid fragments" (one that includes the gang playing Heartthrob: The Dream Date Game until two in the morning), the film finally gets around to introducing its narrative drive. Taking place near the twenty-five minute mark, things get somewhat conventional when Andy is approached by Ian. (Oh, no, not the guy in the Kooler Than Jesus t-shirt?) Yep. (This isn't going to end well.) Breaking the ice by discussing their mutual love for Ministry, the two hit it off. As expected, they end up kissing in a–you guessed it–parking garage.

In the film's most adorable moment, Andy can be seen later that evening staring at a scrap of paper with Ian's phone number on it with a gleeful smirk on his face. (That's weird, I didn't notice the gleeful smirk, as I was too busy admiring the living fuck out of that kick ass Front 242 poster on his bedroom wall.) Well, that's where you I are different, as I was able to notice the gleeful smirk and admire the Front 242 poster on his wall. Multitasking, FTW!!!

Of course, his playful smirk soon turns to one of abject horror, when Andy finds out that Ian (Alan Boyce) isn't exactly a nice guy. To make matters even more dramatic, the relationship between Deric and Steven begins to fall apart and Tommy gets kicked out of his house.

It's true, I was somewhat disappointed by the film's overly serious tone; Totally Fucked Up doesn't have the same whimsical feel that The Doom Generation and Nowhere do. That being said, if you look closely, you'll see brief flourishes of whimsy transpire in unexpected places.

Take the scene where Andy goes to Ian's apartment (the dreaded pop-in). As he's walking up the stairs, we see a blue-haired punk princess dragging the body of a man wearing nothing but tightie-whities down a flight of stairs. In true Gregg Araki fashion, no explanation is given as to what is exactly is going on here. If you keep an eye out for these wacky touches, you should be able to swallow the film's more earnest moments.

It's easy to sit back and laugh at bold predictions that fail to materialize in works of speculative science fiction that came out thirty years ago. However, just because evil bastards who look like Gene Simmons from KISS aren't running around stealing microchips with the help of an army of robot spiders doesn't mean the premise of Runaway is that far-fetched. Sure, the film, written and directed by Michael Crichton, might come across as a little hokey, but it pretty much predicts humanities over-dependence on technology. Of course, you still might say that the idea of a robot cooking you dinner is something straight out of The Jetsons. So while the aesthetics are a tad off, the theory the film puts forth is eerily accurate. Though, I have to wonder, who's designing these robots? I mean, why are so many of them malfunctioning? Actually, they're not just malfunctioning, they're hurting people. Don't believe me, just ask Kirstie Alley's jet black pantyhose-ensnared thighs, as they just got zapped by a burst of electricity that came from her 577 Sentry (a glorified paper shredder on wheels).

Don't look at me like that. You didn't think I purposely went out of my way to watch a movie that stars Tom Selleck, did you? C'mon, man, you know me better than that. All it took for this film to pique my interest was the sight of Kirstie Alley looking all business-like in her blouse, belt, skirt, hose and heels ensemble. It also helped that I liked Michael Crichton's previous film, Looker, which starred Albert Finney and Susan Dey.

Unfortunately, Tom Selleck is no Albert Finney. I know, that's my second dig at Mr. Selleck, but simply put, he just not that good in this. You would think he'd be perfect as a cop. But he's not merely a cop, he's a cop who's in charge of pacifying "runaway" robots. And I didn't buy for a second that Tom Selleck knew anything about robots.

No, what this film needs an actor like, oh, let's say, Harrison Ford or Peter Weller. Or better yet, turn it into a Hong Kong set Category III flick called "RoboCops" (with, of course, Danny Lee in the Tom Selleck role and Anthony Wong as the villain). But then again, every film in existence would be better off if it was remade as a Hong Kong set Category III flick. Seriously, think of a film. It doesn't matter, just pick one. Okay, now imagine it took place in Hong Kong circa 1991-94. Pretty awesome, eh?

Okay, let's get things back on track. First off, the poster for this movie lied to me. Not once does Jack Ramsay (Tom Selleck) hold the cool futuristic pistol that fires mini-heat seeking missiles.

Most cops have to deal with the dregs of society on a daily basis, but Jack Ramsay is in charge of tracking down and disabling wonky robots.

On the day he's assigned a new partner, Jack gets a call about a 7799 Pest Controller (your standard agricultural model) that's running amuck in a corn field. Wait is it "amuck" or "amok"?

Ah, who gives a shit. Check out the gams on Ramsay's new partner. I bet you're wondering how I knew her gams were worth checking out, you know, because she's wearing a pair of standard issue lady police pants (which are infamous for dampening lady-based legginess). Well, that's just it, she wasn't wearing lady police pants, she was wearing a lady police skirt. Nothing too short, but short enough to get a good idea what she had going on gam-wise.

At any rate, Ramsay's new partner is a failed dancer named Thompson (Cynthia Rhodes)–which is apt since Cynthia is best known for being a dancer. After a couple of mild hiccups, Ramsay and Thompson manage to wrangle the wayward robot. It's no wonder it malfunctioned the way it did, it's CPU was an 8088. Am I right, fellas?

The next call the robot police get is a 709, which, according to Marvin (Stan Shaw), is when a robots kills someone. It would seem that a model 912 stabbed to death two people and threatening to kill a baby with a hand gun.

Arriving at the scene (a quiet suburban street), Ramsay asks them to prep a "floater" (a drone) to send in the house, so that he may access the situation. Deciding that the only option is to go inside himself, Ramsay dons his trusty electromagnetic scatter suit and prepares to face down the killer robot.

Despite a few minor glitches, Ramsay emerges from the house a hero. I have to say, this particular sequence is pretty gripping stuff. Granted, Tom Selleck looked ridiculous in his electromagnetic scatter suit (even the name is giggle worthy), but the scene is kinda cool. Oh, and you know something sinister is afoot when we see Gene Simmons' Luther lurking in the crowd that has gathered to watch Ramsay do his thing.

And wouldn't you know it, Luther was the one who planted the "non-standard chip" inside the model 912 that made it go nuts. Meaning, this was no runaway, this was murder.

The non-standard chips are highly sought after by Luther, who wants to sell them to terrorists (nice guy). And when we meet him again, he's shaking down an employee at Vectrocon Security Systems for a butt-load of these non-standard chips. Unsatisfied with merely attaining more non-standard chips, Luther wants the templates that will allow him to produce more. And it looks like, judging by the way dispatches one Vectrocon stooge with a bunch of robot spiders and another (Chris Mulkey from The Hidden) with a gun that fires heat-seeking missiles, he'll do just about anything to acquire them.

While investigating the Vectrocon connection, Ramsay comes face-to-face with the shapely splendour that Kirstie Alley circa 1984. Playing a Vectrocon employee named "Jackie," Kirstie, it would seem, is having a little trouble with her 577 Sentry (it keeps zapping her black pantyhose-adorned thighs). Luckily for her, Ramsay and Thompson are currently in the building.

I liked how when Thompson offers to get Ramsay's electromagnetic scatter suit from the car, he says no. Now, before you accuse Ramsay of being careless. It should be noted that Ramsay doesn't want to look like a total dork in front of Jackie. Yes, even a seasoned professional like Ramsay is willing forgo safety in order to impress an attractive woman. And it looks like, much to Thompson's chagrin, Ramsay's gamble is paying off, as Jackie's pussy is clearly pulsating at a magnum-infused rate of speed. (Huh?) She totally wants to fuck him. (Oh.)

Even though the script seems to favour the pairing of Ramsay and Thompson, I thought Ramsay and Jackie produced more heat.

Speaking of pairing things, if I had to pair Runaway with any other film, I would go with Black Moon Rising. Think about it, both film's feature tons of newfangled gadgetry, yet no attempt whatsoever is made to make their respective worlds seem futuristic. Though, in terms of quality, I have to give Black Moon Rising a slight edge. It's simple, really, Tommy Lee Jones is a better actor than Tom Selleck. That being said, Runaway has robot spiders and Kirstie Alley in black pantyhose going for it. So, yeah.

The producers of Deviations must have read my review for Rock Hard (or the very least, skimmed it), as it manages to avoid many of the same mistakes that film made. If you recall, my biggest complaint about Rock Hard was that two out of the three members of Adonna and the Sexelettes (the one's not named Adonna) did jack shit while on stage. In other words, they were glorified back-up dancers. Whoa, I just realized something, Deviations came out in 1983 (two years before Rock Hard). Meaning, there's no way the producers of Deviations could have read or skimmed my review. You know what that means, right? Exactly, the producers of Deviations decided to put musical instruments in the hands of the band at the centre of this San Francisco shot masterpiece on their own. Oh, and by "masterpiece," I'm referring to films that are in the rock porn genre. Anyway, just because the band members hold musical instruments, doesn't necessarily mean they know what to do with them. I'm looking at you, Connie Lindstrom. To be fair, this was Connie's first (and probably last) film. So, you can forgive her not knowing the proper way to hold a guitar. But then again, Connie Lindstrom's unorthodox guitar playing could be seen as her way of standing out from the crowd.

However, since it's 1983, you're going to need to do more than have a guitarist who holds their guitar funny to stand out.

Holy crap! It just dawned on me, they don't have a bass player. That's right, no bass!

And that poses a big problem for The Four Foxes, an all-girl pop band with new wave overtones. No, not the lack of a bass player... well, maybe that too. Nevertheless, the band can't seem to make any headway in the music industry.

(No headway, eh? Hmm, I wonder if giving head to others will lead them to attaining some of this "headway" you speak of.)

Lead by Ellen (Shanna McCullough), a shapely delight with killer thighs, The Four Foxes spend most of their time jamming in their fortress-like apartment/rehearsal space and getting... (Hold on, I gotta an idea. Why don't The Four Foxes emphasize Ellen's killer thighs?) They might just have to do that the way things are going. Only problem being, yep, you guessed it, Ellen has artistic integrity. (Killer thighs and artistic integrity? Now that's a losing combination.) Tell me about it.

While the other Foxes are more than willing to degrade themselves to get ahead, Ellen resists the urge to lower herself.

Sure, she'll have sex with a snake. But ask her to wear skimpy lingerie on stage and sing songs about anal sex? I don't think so.

Oh, and don't worry, I'll get to the snake in a minute.

After a close up shot of the cleavage belonging to Connie (Connie Lindstrom), the band's guitar player, the film gets underway. The other band members are introduced in a similar fashion. The band's drummer, Ginger (Adrienne Bellaire), is introduced via a close up of her camel toe in tight shorts, and the band's keyboard player, Goldie (Robin Everett), is introduced by focusing on her righteous booty in tight pink and white shorts. As for Ellen, she gets a close up all right, but it doesn't occur during the opening scene.

Belting out a song with lyrics like, "I love his hair and the clothes he wears... darling, oh, darling," Ellen's band is obviously not very good.

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door, or, I should say, a buzz. Would you look at that, it's Mr. Grundic, the band's landlord. Demanding that they pay their rent, Mr. Grundic threatens to evict them if they don't cough up the dough. Not wanting to be evicted, Goldie steps up to the plate. Removing her pink top, Goldie puts on a leopard print bikini, and offers to sit on Mr. Grundic's face in order to get a two week extension.

And the sexy blonde with the low center of gravity does exactly that, she sits on his face.

When the door-buzzer rings again, Goldie thinks it's Mr. Grundic back for more face-sitting. But it's only Stanley (Mike Horner), their next-door neighbour. Repaying Ellen with two cartons of eggs for the two eggs borrowed earlier in the week, it's clear that Stanley has a crush on her.

How could I tell? Check out the look on his face as he watches Ellen go to the kitchen to get Stanley some milk for his cereal, he wants to do nasty things to that booty. And why wouldn't he? Shanna McCullough has one of the most stain-worthy bums in porn.

Since jamming in their apartment isn't going to make them any money, The Four Foxes audition for Paul (Billy Dee) and Sybil (Lili Marlene), the owners of a local club. Wearing her finest black hose and a black and white striped dress, Ellen gives it her all, as she sings that awful, "darling, oh, darling," song.

While Paul thinks they're okay, Sybil dismisses The Four Foxes as "bubblegum," and tells her partner to break the bad news to them (Ellen is crestfallen). As they're leaving the club, Ginger is approached by Ziggy Rockstein, a music producer of some kind. Informing her that her band needs a gimmick, Ziggy says he's going to noodle with some ideas that are sure to make her band a success.

Meanwhile, back at Four Foxes HQ, Ellen dismisses the song she's currently working on as "cornball," and begins to openly bemoan the fact that she can't seem to express her true feelings in her lyrics.

Openly bemoaning must be a thing in this film's universe, as Paul and Sybil are doing exactly that at their club. Complaining that the crowds at their club are not as big as they used to be, Paul and Sybil are struggling to make ends meet. In a moment of unexpected clarity, the stylish and sophisticated Sybil blames punk, new wave and blues rock for their financial woes, which she believes have become stagnant in recent years.

Instead of doing something about it, Paul and Sybil decide to have sex on the bar (I loved the close up of Sybil's garter belt adorned butt grinding against their modest returns as a direct result of Paul's first-rate thrusts - the bar is littered with cash).

Intertwined with Paul and Sybil's bar sex scene is Ziggy and Ginger's meeting to discuss his ideas for The Four Foxes. As expected, Ziggy isn't all that interested in discussing his ideas. Well, for one thing, he doesn't have any. But more importantly, he seems more interested in eating Ginger's pussy, which he states that he's had a "burning desire" to do so since he first laid eyes on her.

After Connie and a reluctant Ellen (who still feels cheap) earn money posing for some wrestling photos (I'm a fan of the wrestling fetish, but only if the women are wearing slips), the band celebrate this sudden of influx of cash by drinking champagne on their deck. It's here that the idea to become more outrageous is born.

As Goldie is going on and on about how lewd they should be, Ginger chimes in and says, "We should change our name to The Deviations!" And with that, a new band is born. But what does Ellen think of all this? Who cares, let's get these gals in lingerie, stat!

Offended that the photo-shoot set up by Ziggy and the wrestling fetish photographer to promote their new look has turned into an orgy, Ellen storms off and has sex with a snake in another room. (Seriously?) Seriously. Coiled around her black fishnet-adorned legs, Ellen basically allows the snake to do everything but penetrate her vagina.

Speaking of penetrating vaginas, I can't believe that lumpy fuck Ziggy gets at least four helpings of pussy in this movie. It just goes to show you that even lumpy fucks can get laid if they... Actually, I have no idea he managed to pull this off. I guess it helps that he's in a position of power, but still... he's so fucking lumpy.

Debuting their new sound at Paul and Sybil's club, the Deviations hit the stage with a feisty, lingerie-clad aplomb.

Call me somewhat deranged, by I kinda liked The Deviations' music. Grabbing the mic, Ellen begins to wail: "We're The Deviations, we're into new creations / Normal is boring, kinky is wild / We're not straight, we deviate / I'm not mild, I'm a wild child... Let us demonstrate, how we deviate!" Don't judge me too harshly, but I was singing those lyrics under my breath in the supermarket the following day. And, as we all know, that's the hallmark of quality cinema.

Who would have thought that a casual stroll through the Sharp Store would lead to the world's most intense mid-life crisis. I know, there's no such thing as a "Sharp Store," or maybe there is (I really need to get out more). Anyway, you should have seen this place, it was crawling with Sharp products. Looking at the wide array of Sharp computers on display in the Sharp section of the unnamed electronics store, our middle-aged "hero" seems fascinated by the newfangled gizmos. Now, I wouldn't say the computer is the primary cause of his meltdown, but the protagonist of Mosquito on the 10th Floor (Jukkai no mosquito) probably shouldn't have purchased it, as it does nothing but exacerbate the situation. In the realm that is North America, the middle-aged man usually manifests his mid-life crisis by picking up an expensive sports car. Well, in Japan... Actually, I think sports cars are pretty universal as far as purchases go for those going through mid-life crises. However, since not everyone can afford a sports car, a Sharp MZ-700 (NEC PC8001) is the next best thing.

Oh, before I continue. Here are a couple of Japanese expressions you should definitely learn before immersing yourself in the world depicted in this film.

The first is "Kōban." Police kiosks (or " police boxes") that are located in the various neighbourhoods throughout Japan. Except, instead housing hundreds of cops, they contain no more than two police officers at a time.

The second expression is "Harajuku." Not really an expression, Harajuku is a geographic area where young people wear cool clothes and dance to rock 'n' roll and other happening now sounds.

Up next is "Kyōtei," which basically means boat racing. Using speed boats (or "hydroplanes"), the racers zip around a small oval track. The sport is apparently very popular in Japan and the races are bet on.

And the final expression is, "Pinku Pansuto." You don't have to have the cunning mind of an artful linguist to figure out that "Pinku Pansuto" means pink pantyhose in Japanese. While the expression "Pinku Taitsu" is technically more apt (the pink pantyhose are actually pink tights), no one can deny their importance. In fact, take away the pinku taitsu, or whatever you want to call them, from this particular movie, and you'll be looking at one seriously despondent Yum-Yum.

It's true, Sharp products are most definitely browsed by a middle-aged Chiba Prefecture resident in the opening scene (you can relax now, the language lesson is over), but the electro sounds created by Katsuo Ono are the first thing that grabbed me in the debut film by Yôichi Sai. Prevalent throughout the movie, the film's electronic score is, simply put, amazing. Let me put this way, if this tale of a "low-level bureaucrat" starts to get you down, look away from the screen and crank up the volume, 'cause this soundtrack is smoking hot.

After receiving their morning inspection, we quickly discover that the man wandering the mall in the film's opening is a cop, or, to be more specific, he's the "box chief" at a nearby police box. Even though I've only watched him stand in that box for a few seconds, I can already tell that his job must be tedious.

When he's not standing in a box (which he has apparently done for the past twenty years), hanging out at a local karaoke bar (I don't think I need to explain the meaning of the word "karaoke"), or moping around his tenth floor apartment, you can usually find the box chief (Yûya Uchida) leering at the young people dancing in Harajuku.

It turns out the box chief isn't a pervert, he's just curious to see how his estranged daughter's doing (she likes to dance there). Nevertheless, the sight the box chief standing completely still while all those around him (thousands of people) are dancing wildly is one of the film's more indelible moments.

On top of having a career that is literally going nowhere (he fails the captain's exam yet again), the box chief's ex-wife is constantly nagging him for child support, and he has a serious gambling problem (he loves betting on speed boat racing). To rectify these problems, he decides to take out a few loans. This is a great idea, I thought to myself. I mean, with names like, Takefuji Loans, The Money Store and Generous Credit, what could possibly go wrong?

Blessed with an influx of free money, the box chief buys that Sharp computer he was eye-balling in the opening scene.

Dying to show someone his new toy, the box chief brings a punk chick in iridescent pink tights to his apartment to see it. Now, in case you're wondering how he managed to get the punk chick in iridescent pink tights to come to his apartment, it's simple, really, he dragged her there. She thought he was bringing her to the police station (he caught her shoplifting a bottle of whiskey at the supermarket), but ended up forcing her to play computer bowling in his dingy apartment.

As expected, the calls from the loan outfits (some of them, by the way, are a tad on the shady side... I know, I was just as shocked as you were) start coming in. But that doesn't stop the box chief. If anything, it causes his behaviour to become even more self-destructive.

Suddenly, the speed boat racetrack becomes his second home; he starts excepting more booty calls from Keiko (Reiko Nakamura), a "hostess" at his favourite karaoke bar; and his work begins to suffer. And not only that, he starts getting into fights and he rapes a female colleague.

Unable to keep it together, the box chief finds himself suffocating under the weight of his responsibilities. Wow, if you were judge this film based on what I've written so far, you would think Mosquito on the 10th Floor was a real downer. It is, in a way. But it's also an excellent character study. Or better yet, a cautionary tale about growing old. Don't take life so seriously, and try to find a hobby... one that doesn't involve blowing all your money at the speed boat track.

When I saw Lori Eastside hanging out with the Cobras, the baddest street gang this side of Wilshire Blvd., in the opening scene of 3:15 (a.k.a. Showdown at Lincoln High), I thought to myself: Yay! Add another Lori Eastside movie to my ever-growing list of Lori Eastside movies that I have seen with my eyes. Tickled pink that I had just increased my cinematic output, vis–à–vis, Lori Eastside-based cinema, right out of the gate, I prepared myself for the inevitable letdown that was surely to come when I found out that she was basically an extra. Oh, how wrong I was. Granted, her role is still pretty chintzy, but I have two words for you, my friend: Weaponized scrunchies. That's right, Lori Eastside (Downtown 81, Get Crazy and Fear City), who plays Patch, the leader of the female wing of the Cobras, the Cobrettes, uses her ponytail as a weapon. Now, if you saw a woman employ her ponytail as a weapon, what would you say to them? I'll tell you what you would say... No, wait. Let's let the Cobrette played by Gina Gershon tell us what we should say. Whilst in the ladies room adjusting their hair and make-up, Gina Gershon sees Patches putting the finishing touches on her weaponized scrunchie. And, as any sane person would, Gina Gershon declares Patches to be, and I quote, "so fucking cool."

You said it, honey. And, by the way, you're kind of fucking cool yourself, if you don't mind my saying so. What am I saying? Kind of fucking cool? You're a lot of fucking cool. I mean, it's 1986, you look like Gina Gershon, and you're a member of a gang called the "Cobrettes. Of course you're fucking cool.

Okay, now that we've established that Lori Eastside's Patches and Gine Gershon's unnamed Cobrette character are both fucking cool, we can safely move on to describing the plot or some shit like that.

Or can we? I don't know 'bout you, but the blonde Cobrette in the black stockings looks an awful lot like Christina Beck, the actress who appears in three of Penelope Spheeris' punk rock movies (Suburbia, Dudes and The Boys Next Door); I know, The Boys Next Door isn't technically a punk rock movie, but it has punks in it. At least I think it does...

Anyway, the reason the blonde Cobrette in the black stockings looks an awful lot like Christina Beck is because she is Christina Beck.

All right, let's re-establish where we stand. This movie, which, like I said earlier, is called 3:15, features Lori Eastside, Gina Gershon and Christina Beck as members of the Cobrettes, the all-girl offshoot of the most feared gang in the city.

Most feared in the city?!? That might be pushing it. But if you were to calculate their badness based solely on the swagger they display in the opening scene, they be pretty bad.

Only problem being, the Cobras lose Jeff Hannah (Adam Baldwin), their toughest member, after their leader, Cinco (Danny De La Paz), kills a rival gang member during a rumble outside a hamburger joint.

Even though he still has the Cobra tattoo on his arm, from this day forward, Jeff wants nothing to do with the gang; he throws his Cobra jacket on the ground to signify his withdrawal from the Cobra fold.

After a year passes, you would have thought that Cinco would have forgiven Jeff for leaving the Cobras. But this couldn't be further from the truth. Cinco still feels betrayed. And so does Lora (Wendy Barry), Jeff's crazy-eyed Cobrette girlfriend, who's relationship with Jeff ended the second his Cobra coat hit the cold concrete.

As expected, things are a tad awkward for Jeff while at school, as the halls of Lincoln High, a graffiti-adorned, gang-ridden paradise, are replete with enemies.

Is Lincoln High really a high school? From my vantage point, it looked more like a prison. The way the gangs congregated in this fenced in area reminded of a prison yard. The fact that all the gangs were made up of members of the same race only added to the school's prison vibe.

However, not all the gangs are like this. While the Tams, the school's Asian gang, and the M-16's, the school's black gang (who are lead by Mario Van Peebles and dress like Cuban revolutionaries) are homogeneous, the Cobras have a mixture of Latino and white members.

Breaking up the serenity of this "gangsta's paradise" is a massive drug bust (set to "All Lined Up" by Shriekback). Initiated by Horner (Rene Auberjonois), the school's warden-esque principal, and Moran (Ed Lauter), Horner's police confidante, the bust targets the Cobra's elaborate narcotics operation. Unfortunately, however, the bust does nothing but open up old wounds, as Cinco blames Jeff for his arrest.

While it's clear to anyone with half a brain that Jeff had nothing to do with Cinco's arrest, that doesn't matter, as Cinco has the excuse he needs and plans on exploiting it to the max.

This puts Jeff in a tight spot. You see, Horner and Moran want him to testify against Cinco, but by doing so would expose him as a narc to the rest of the school.

If that wasn't enough, Sherry (Deborah Foreman), his new, non-gang-affiliated girlfriend, doesn't seem realize that the school she attends is a hellhole.

I mean, you're wearing a teal sweater vest?!? I'm not saying your wardrobe should be devoid of teal, or turquoise or cyan, for that matter. I'm just saying it should better reflect the temperament of the school you attend.

No wonder Patches gives Sherry the stink-eye when she sees you walking down the hall. Though, to be fair, I think Patches looks at everyone that way. That being said, Patches does resent the fact that Lora and Sherry have made positive inroads in the dating world. And how do you think Patches expresses these feelings of resentment? You got it, she does so by swinging her weaponized ponytail at those she feels have wronged her.

Call me deranged, but I loved the scene where Patches and the rest of the Cobrettes (including Gina Gershon and Christina Beck) beat up Deborah Foreman in the ladies crapper.

The film's title refers to the time when Jeff must face the Cobras, and once and for all, exorcise the demons of his past. Who will stand with Jeff against the Cobras? The Tams? The M-16's? His floppy and curly-haired friends? Don't count on it. No, the answer to that question might surprise you. A high school movie with prison movie overtones, 3:15 is gritty and overly serious at times. That being said, you'd be nuts to skip this film, as it's an authentic snapshot of 1980s fashion and youth culture.

Instead of wracking my brain trying to figure out this film's timeline, I should just listen to Eddie Wilson when he says: "It's about the music, man." While I have to admit, that's some top notch advice. I would still like to know when Eddie and the Cruisers II: Eddie Lives! takes place (and, yes, the exclamation mark in the film's title is totally justified). Okay, let me take one more stab at it before switching to a more stimulating topic. The original Eddie and the Cruisers flipped back and forth between 1963 and 1983, and... You know what, who cares? I mean, so what if Michael Paré was only five or six years old in 1963, I totally bought him as a troubled rock star who faked his death in the 1960s and is now working as a construction worker in late 1980s Montreal. I'm telling you, if you flush away all the doubts in your head regarding the film's wonky timeline, you'll discover that this film kinda rocks. Sure, everyone from the original film except for Michael Paré and Matthew Laurance is missing in action. But again, I have to sort of quote Eddie Wilson: "It's about the music, man."

In other words, it's not about the actors, the script, or even the direction, it's about–you got it–the music... man.

The next point I'm about to make is on the cusp of being timeline related, so please bear with me. Don't get me wrong, I dig your music, Eddie Wilson (or should I say, Joe West), I really do, it's just that I'm having trouble buying that people living in late 1980s Montreal would go nuts for Chuck Berry inspired rock 'n' roll, especially when you take in account the city's synth-pop pedigree (Trans-X, Men Without Hats, Rational Youth).

It reminds me of that heinous scene from the WKRP in Cincinnati episode, "Dr. Fever and Mr. Tide: Part 2" where Dr. Johnny Fever stops acting like his alter ego "Rip Tide," the host of a televised dance music show, and lashes out against his disco-loving overlords. It doesn't seem to matter that the audience is filled with disco fans, he manages to convince them that disco does in fact suck by merely spinning a rock 'n' roll record.

That being said, I'm not a big fan of realism. And besides, why does a film about a made up band have to reflect the tastes of the period? It doesn't. And just like the film's "wonky timeline," I'm going to have to except the fact that Montrealers love their old time rock 'n' roll.

After opening with a guitar lick, the film, directed by Jean-Claude Lord (Visiting Hours), hits us with the classic piano intro to "On the Dark Side," one of the stand out songs from the first chapter in the Eddie Wilson saga.

Now, when sequels allude to the previous film, it usually backfires, as it reminds us of how great the first one was. And by opening with "On the Dark Side,"Eddie and the Cruisers II: Eddie Lives! is at risk of having that exact thing happen.

Well, after seeing the film from start to finish, I can safely say that this sequel has nothing to worry about, as not only are the songs (co-written and sung by John Cafferty) just as good as the one's from the first film, I'd go as far as to say that they're better.

I know, that sounds like kooky talk. But I'm serious, "Runnin' Thru the Fire,""A Matter Of Time,""NYC" and "Some Like It Hot" are all barn-burners of the highest order.

What happened to Eddie Wilson (Michael Paré) after his car crashed through a guard rail and landed in the river in 1964? According to this film, he changed his name to Joe West, grew a mustache, moved to Montreal, and became a construction worker; and get this, he's a Habs fan!

Meanwhile, the legend of Eddie Wilson continues to grow around the world. Eddie's record company, Satin Records (the same Satin Records who rejected his sophomore album for being too arty), are still hoping to exploit the reemerged interest in his music.

When Eddie/Joe hears about an Eddie Wilson lookalike contest being held in New York City, he decides to drive down to take a look-see. I know he has a mustache now, but why didn't anyone recognize him? I mean, the real Eddie Wilson is standing in the crowd at an Eddie Wilson lookalike contest.

Either way, you know almost immediately that Satin Records' Dave Pagent (Michael Rhoades) is not to be trusted the second you see that he's rocking a sports coat with a pair of jeans.

Seeing the Eddie Wilson clones lip-sync to his music in black sleeveless t-shirts must have inspired the real Eddie Wilson, because he starts working on songs the second he gets back to Montreal. Obviously a tad burnt out, Eddie decides to unwind by taking in a Habs game with one of his construction worker buddies. It's here that Eddie/Joe meets Diane Armani (Marina Orsini), an artist who wants to paint his portrait.

If you're wondering why Diane, an attractive brunette, would want to paint a portrait of a construction worker she met at a hockey game. It's simple, really, she thinks he has an amazing face. In case you forgot, Eddie/Joe is played by Michael Paré, who is still hunky, still cool and still pleased to meet ya.

Even though Eddie/Joe rejects Diane's offer, she doesn't give up. The following night, Eddie/Joe is at a nightclub. There he buys a drink for Hilton Overstreet (Anthony Sherwood), the band's sax player. Overhearing their conversation, the band's guitar player, Rick Diesel (Bernie Coulson), challenges Eddie/Joe to put his money where his mouth is (I think I'm using that idiom correctly). Anyway, Eddie/Joe goes on stage and blows everyone away, including Diane, who must have followed him there. Um, stalker much?

After multiple attempts to get Eddie/Joe to join his band, Rick Diesel finally manages to convince him, but only if they hire a new drummer, bass player and keyboardist. These slots are filled by Charlie (Paul Markle), Quinn Quinley (Mark Holmes) and Stewart (David Matheson).

As Eddie/Joe's music career is getting back on track, he also finds time for romance, as Eddie/Joe and Diane become an item. In fact, they become so close, you can drop the whole "Eddie/Joe" charade when referencing them. That's right, Eddie confesses to Diane that he is in fact Eddie Wilson. While I wouldn't say that I got chills when Eddie says, "I'm Eddie Wilson" to Diane, it's still a pretty awesome moment.

The rest of the movie involves Eddie/Joe and Rick Diesel butting heads over the direction they want to the band to take. On the one hand, Eddie/Joe, being a perfectionist, wants the band to practice ("I won't short cut the music!), while Rick Diesel wants the band to start playing gigs. These clashes get a little tiresome after awhile, but the four songs I mentioned earlier manage to smooth things over in the end. Ultimately leading to a highly satisfying conclusion.

Oh, I'd be remiss not to mention that Martha Quinn in this movie. Now, I've said in the past that pointing out Martha Quinn in movies is sort of my thing. But Eddie and the Cruisers II: Eddie Lives! is a little different, in that this is probably Martha Quinn's biggest film role to date.

When she first appears onscreen, as the host of "Rock TV News," I was like, Yay, Martha Quinn! Then, get this, she appears a second time. I thought myself: Two Martha Quinn appearances in the same movie?!? This is crazy. Well, I hope you're sitting down, because Martha Quinn appears onscreen a third time! Three times!!! Can you believe this? Okay, I'm going to go relax.

Despite the fact that there's a good chance that a disgusting man (one in a pig mask wearing ill-fitting lingerie) will be watching your every move, I still wouldn't mind spending the night or two at the bizarre motel that is at the centre of Kim Christy's ultra-freaky, ultra-kinky Squalor Motel (Come for the cheap rates, stay for the guilt-free cunnilingus). However, since lumpy transvestite pig mask voyeurism isn't listed in the brochure, most of the folks who stay at the "Squalor Motel" will remain enveloped in a haze of perpetual darkness when it comes to the plethora of weirdos and perverts who haunt the motel's hallways on a semi-regular basis. In other words: Please continue to dine on your girlfriend's consecrated lady speckle at the rate of speed you're currently dining. Sincerely, the staff and management of Squalor Motel. Even though no such document exists, that didn't stop me from noticing that something was missing from the Squalor Motel brochure. Sure, it mentions having clean sheets and a colour television in every room (I sure do miss the days when motel's listed colour TV as a selling point), but there's no mention of The Reptile Room.

In my mind, The Reptile Room is the sole reason to stay at the Squalor Motel. Seriously, it makes no sense to not mention it in your brochure. In fact, if I was in charge, the brochure would be all about The Reptile Room, as that place is hip and happening.

Don't believe me? Let's see, I got, uh, um, I got... eleven words for you: Punks and transsexuals cavorting in the vicinity of a glory hole.

Just a sec, I gotta double check something. Yeah, that's totally eleven words (yay! I can count). I know, I could have given you ten words if I had chosen to spell "glory hole" as one word. But, hey, I didn't, so get over it.

Personally, I don't think the words "glory" and "hole" should really touch one another; that's just the way I was raised.

Enough about semantics. I was just thinking to myself: Oh, if only I could share with you the awesome music of Vida Slann. Vida who, you say? Vida Slann, the person responsible for the synth-tastic music heard throughout Squalor Motel. Where have you been, man? At any rate, wondering how I was going to describe the music from this movie, I decided to search the youtube using the words "Vida" and "Slann" (previous searches centred around the words "Squalor" and "Motel" came up empty). Well wouldn't you know it, someone posted an audio portion of the music that opens the film.

I'm telling you, the music in this movie is a synth lovers dream, especially if you like your synths dark and sinister.

It should go without saying, but the instant I heard the music, I knew I had made the right choice, porno-wise, that is.

The music from the youtube clip I provided, like I already said, plays over the opening scene, which features a brief dream sequence that has Miss Clark (Colleen Brennen), the cat-eye glasses-wearing front desk clerk at the Squalor Motel, seeing a strange couple to their rooms (down a slanted hallway). When all of a sudden, she sees herself being wheeled away on a gurney... only, she isn't dead or injured, no, she's laughing hysterically.

Awoken by Manny (Nick Random), the motel's sleazy manager, Miss Clark seems dazed. But quickly snaps out of it, and begins to verbally joust with Manny. Of course, it being Squalor Motel (a twenty dollar a night freak show on the outskirts of a fever dream), their verbal jousting involves lewd and lascivious wordplay.

After one of them asks: Who's in the Reptile Room? The pair take turns watching a slender brunette with slicked back hair have stand up coitus with a man wearing a bald cap near a cherub statue through a hole in the wall. Other than Vida Slann's music and the fact that the male participant is wearing a bald cap, nothing really stands out about this scene; naked people having sex... how pedestrian.

The next person to enter the motel is Nancy (Desiree Lane), a wide-eyed, long-nippled woman who looks like she just got married. Putting down her book (Bound Pig Fuckers), Miss Clark envisions herself having a lesbian scenario with the wide-eyed, long-nippled woman standing before her; a scenario that involves licking, groping, fingerless and fingered gloves and lingerie. When this scene runs its course, we're back where we started... the front desk.

I think I speak for everyone when I say it's time for Nancy to enter The Reptile Room. And who do you think the first person Nancy runs into? That's right, it's none other than Jamie Gillis. Credited as the "Doorman," Jamie offers to sell Nancy the various items he has tucked away under his trench coat (sex toys, Preparation H, etc). Realizing that she isn't interested in buying anything he's selling, Jamie invites Nancy to put his penis in her mouth; free of charge... what a great deal.

When satisfaction is achieved, a cum-stained Nancy literally falls into The Reptile Room. What she sees will alter the course of her spiritual trajectory forever. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an overstatement. But nevertheless, Nancy is deeply affected by what she sees.

While the producers of Café Flesh (a film that clearly influenced the makers of Squalor Motel) had an entire blood bank and methadone clinic to get extras from, Kim Christy and her crew could only scrounge up a handful of punks and freaks for The Reptile Room sequence.

This lack of extras, however, does not mean the scene is not memorable. Don't believe me? Well, let me just say this: The gorgeous Angelique Ricard plays the lead guitarist in The Reptile Room's transsexual house band? Flanked on either side by Magnificent Margo and Summer St. Cerly, Angelique Ricard sways back and forth to the music. And by doing so, we would get a brief glimpse of her cock every five or six sways. (Every five or six sways? I'm no math whiz, but that would mean we get close to eighteen glimpses of her mouthwatering girl-cock.) Yep, it's pretty fucking cool–you know, if girl-cock glimpses are your thing.

As the transsexual house band are swaying and the punks are glaring, a new wave-ish brunette can be see giving head to a man in hiked down leather pants (studies have shown that hiked down leather pants are more conducive to oral sex than pulled up leather pants).

Even though I'm indifferent to non-transsexual blow job scenes, the fact that the new wave-ish brunette's metallic triangle-shaped earring would crash into the leather pants guy's abdomen every time she would inhale his non-peppermint-scented flesh-stick was very appealing to me. It's too bad they couldn't have found away to show that her earring was cutting into his abdomen. Call me perpendicular, but I really would have liked to have seen the affected area to slowly bleed as the blow job progressed. Oh well.

Meanwhile, in one of the motel's rooms, a blonde sailor is getting a blow job from a black chick with silver hair and a yokel is surprised to find that one of his sex dolls has come to life.

While taking a break from performing, the transsexuals watch as the Nazi-esque Dr. Thumbs (Herschel Savage) and his gum-smacking assistant, Nurse Terri Kloth (Lisa De Leeuw), try to jump-start the libido that belongs to Mrs. Shipowitz (Tantala Ray), who is wearing black stockings. This scene is my favourite, for obvious reasons (Lisa De Leew and Tantala Ray are always worth watching... the former for her freckled thickness and the latter for her brash camp-appeal), but the reason the scene really stands out is the music. I'm telling you, this film has hands down one of the best scores I've ever heard. It makes even the film's mediocre scenes so much better. Not to imply that Squalor Motel is filled with mediocre scenes. Anyway, thanks, Miss Christy. You make good pornographies. Bring on She-Male Sanitarium!

The Bondage Master (Hitoshi Hoshino, 1996)

American Cyborg: Steel Warrior (Boaz Davidson, 1993)

976-EVIL 2 (Jim Wynorski, 1992)

State Park (Rafal Zielinski, 1988)

The Untold Story (Herman Yau, 1993)

Friday the 13th Part III (Steve Miner, 1982)

Ebola Syndrome (Herman Yau, 1996)

Quicksilver (Tom Donnelly, 1986)

Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter (Joseph Zito, 1984)

Mod Fuck Explosion (Jon Moritsugu, 1994)

Fame Whore (Jon Moritsugu, 1997)

Rock Hard (Bob Vosse, 1985)

Perdita Durango (Álex de la Iglesia, 1997)

Totally Fucked Up (Gregg Araki, 1993)

Runaway (Michael Crichton, 1984)

Deviations (Domingo Lobo, 1983)

Mosquito on the 10th Floor (Yôichi Sai, 1983)

3:15 (Larry Gross, 1986)

Eddie and the Cruisers II: Eddie Lives! (Jean-Claude Lord, 1989)

Squalor Motel (Kim Christy, 1985)