Mangue Negro aka Mud Zombies. (2008) – Rodrigo Aragao.

Deep in a moldering Brazilian mangrove, long rumoured to be haunted, starving fishermen fatefully catch something that will consume them! Not long thereafter, the villains who eke out their meagre existence in this swampy hell are gorily besieged by unspeakably foul, especially putrescent-looking bog-zombies. The spectacularly grotesque practical FX, lively performances, and its eerie mangrove setting raises mud zombies high above the mire of mediocre zombie splatter. Raquel and Louis are engaging protagonists, the grimly festering attack zombies prove to be legitimately menacing, and the beleaguered couple's increasing sense of dread is palpable. A dankly rotting backwater full of rampaging, disgustingly decayed living dead is certainly no place I'd care to tarry! I really must commend director Aragao for his gruesome creativity, thrillingly rejuvenating the wormy carcass of low budget attack zombie horror with his kinetic, prodigiously gory, unusually haunting Zombie Mudbath! (sorry, couldn't quite resist that!) Along with its exemplary score, Mud Zombies is refreshingly free of humour, these menacing mangrove monsters mean business, so there's absolutely no time to fanny about with irony, homages, or wiseass shenanigans, trapped in the hellish black bogs of these treacherous, tar black tributaries...it's fight or die!!!

 Tough and Deadly (1995) – Steve Cohen.

There are two revered instigators of action-centric DTV mayhem, PM Entertainment and Shapiro Glickenhaus entertainment, and both frequently stinted little on their bellicose 'entertainment' quotient, ably providing prodigious levels of kinetically macho mayhem, and the outstanding buddy actioner Tough and Deadly remains some primo SGE rewardingly fight-packed fodder. As previously seen in roustabout classic Back in Action (1994) the charismatic Roddy Piper and formidable pugilist Billy Blanks enjoy boffo alpha dude chemistry, and Cohen's thunderous, bountifully action-centric Tough and Deadly is a legitimately hot ticket! Familiar B-action tropes cause Piper & Blanks to reluctantly join muscular forces against all manner of scum and villainy, thereby allowing for a satisfyingly prolific display of explosive, sharply executed combat, and noisome, bravura gunfights to bedazzle all but the most finicky action junkies. It's not at all common to discover a Berretta blazing 90s DTV actioner that pretty much hauls ass directly from the Gung-ho get-go, and much like the coelacanth, Steve Cohen's testosterone-soaked shoot 'em up is a truly rare B-Movie banger indeed. The unapologetically bare-chested actioner Tough and Deadly remains a nigh on immaculate example of macho-mansploitation!

 Night Eyes (1990) – Jag Mundhra.

Supremely glamorous, recent divorcee (Tanya Roberts) has her luxurious Malibu property monitored by security firm Night Eyes, consisting of brothers Andrew Stevens and Cooper Huckerbee, and somewhat indelicately, one of their cameras fatefully records the exceptionally frolicsome activities within her sumptuous boudoir. Night Eyes is an enjoyably trashy, crudely voyeuristic erotic thriller given additional oomph with the handsomely decorative presences of a virile-looking Andrew Stevens and scintillating seductress Tanya Roberts. Jag Mundhra's superficially slick thriller Night Eyes has a De Palma-lite veneer, gaudily augmented with squalling saxophones and a mawkish sentimentality. Come to think of it, Night Eyes plays out glossily like a latter day Mastorakis, providing a derivative, blandly efficient genre peep-show with momentary flashes of lingerie-lurid incident. There's steamy, Zalman Kinged in-out, brusingly boisterous fisticuffs, and a serviceable twist, making Night Eyes a seductive enough midnight romp to those amenable to such.

 Sex Appeal (1986) - Chuck Vincent.

Diminutive schmendrick Tony Cannelloni (Louie Bonanno) desperately needs to get laid, and upon seeking guidance from crass self-help tome Sex Appeal, from inauspicious beginnings, this very soon, somewhat miraculously, transforms him into a modern day, pint-sized Casanova! Sex Appeal is an unapologetically dumb, fitfully amusing 80s smut-com, presenting itself like a Woody Allen flick, overly optimistically written by his priapic bookie. The bawdy gags are plentiful, and farcical, the mucky rumpy pumpy milieu herein suggestive of the clumsy bed-hopping of Robin Askwith's equally nebbish Timothy Lea. It's not all dross, some of Cannelloni's 'comedic' assignations are with undeniably attractive totty, but the mediocre text's ceaseless inanity offers little respite from the author's lack of invention. Sex Appeal is innately sexless, but may still provide desultory interest to more schlock-resilient smut-com completists, but be duly warned, Sex Appeal is manifestly NOT another undiscovered 'Last American Virgin'.

 Wildest Dreams (1990) - Chuck Vincent.

Luckless Schlemiel Bobby (James Davies) unexpectedly unleashes lusty genie Dancee (Heide Paine), thereby fatefully uncorking his sexual fantasies, leading somewhat crudely to a whole milky mess of asinine misadventures. This largely guileless example of slapstick n' tickle is given a momentary charge of pulchritudinous pep by the vivacious presence of Stella (Ruth Collins), Bobby's busty girl-next-door fantasy, but the prosaic text, and grossly exaggerated sitcom performances frequently proves enervating. Fortunately, Wildest Dreams isn't a totally indigestible shit shingle, there's plentiful, juicy-looking T&A, and the feisty, wise ass genie Dancee provides one of the film's more engaging performances. If one lowers expectations to the Pleistocene period, this unstintingly inane romp is arguably good for one or two begrudgingly goofy laffs. I didn't actively loathe it, Wildest Dreams ruthlessly shrill tone, excruciating score, and botched TV pilot aesthetic fitfully provided random trace-elements of unintentional hilarity. B-fans might be aware that James Davies appeared in slasher schlocker Pledge Night, the delicious Ruth Collins rocked audaciously hard in Doom Asylum and picante pop tart Heide Paine appeared in Olen Ray's Wizard of The Demon's sword.

 The Inconfessable Orgies of Emmanuelle. (1982) – Jess Franco.

Considering that the bawdily irrepressible Emmanuelle has been blissfully bonking her way through innumerable softwank adventures over the years, I would humbly suggest that she no longer has much to confess! Lovingly loyal, long-suffering husband (Mayans) and his lusciously lascivious wife Emmanuelle (Muriel Montossé) are currently enjoying a honeymoon period in an especially picturesque Iberian locale, but Emmanuelle's altogether confessable lusts predictably get the better of her, presented in a series of modestly erotic Sapphic/hetero clinches, and a not entirely convincing pseudo rape. Naturally, Mayan's is greatly chagrined by all this, but reacts sulkily, meanwhile local dissolute playboy (Tony Skios) arrogantly cuts in, ultimately proving himself to be a hilariously lacklustre lay! Franco dutifully peppers the final act with inane travelogue footage, some unintentionally amusing bonk-less elements, plus a frisson of lurid lady loving. At best, this is a crudely unsophisticated B-smut bacchanal, yet the hazy Mediterranean locations are quite lovely, as is the maddeningly exquisite Montossé, and the hedonistic marquis's pompous, self-aggrandising discourse proved unexpectedly delicious! Even a lesser Franco sexploitation flick will quite often provide viable content to serious schlock seekers, plus The inconfessable Orgies of Emmanuelle remains absolutely essential to fans of dazzlingly beauteous Euro-starlet Muriel Montossé. For me, Skios's dipso-disco majestically mansplaining marquis really made this a gas!

 Malibu Beach (1978) Robert J. Rosenthal.

Formulaic fleshy frolics by Crown International Pictures lustily presents a demographically aligned cross-section of hard-bodied, horn-dogging teenagers doing their utmost to consume as much pot, beer and pussy as humanly possible during their sultry, hormonally overloaded summer break. A sun-dazed dung beetle crawling his lugubrious way over a fresh roll of toilet paper could provide a more winning, shag-centric text, but as a vintage, nookie-nostalgic softwank, Malibu Beach is easy enough on the more prurient eye, if a tad 'too easy' on the cerebrum. Hey!!! It's a dumb ass 70s beach flick, the better dumb ass beach flicks feature beehived, hard-frugging 60s Go-Go dancers and cheapnis monsters, while Malibu Beach boasts studio sexy eye-candies Kim Lankford, James Daughton, Susan Player, and sherry Lee Marks. I'm not sure that I enjoyed this very much, I was hungover, but I certainly appreciated all the jiggly-tanned, bikini bits. I strongly refute the poster's spurious claim that 'everything can happen' on Malibu Beach, but I readily accept that a more truthful 'goofy shit happens' on Malibu Beach would be an advertising bummer. Truth be known, I preferred Rosenthal's earlier titty litter 'The Pom Pom Girls, but that's kinda like saying I rated one tepid cup of tap water over a moderately less tepid one.