Absolutio Erlosung Im Blut (2014) – Philip Lilienschwartz.

This pleasingly graphic Anti-Moby fever dream, gorily presents an insular, disturbingly sexless, shaven-headed Anti-Moby who undergoes a delirious, pseudo-religious epiphany following the death of his beloved mother. Galvanized to perpetrating puritan acts of arbitrary cruelty, Jesaja (Stefan Vancura) undertakes a grisly suburban crusade, kidnapping, and torture-monologue-slaying all those who he deems are heretically flouting god's commandments. Maniacal Mutti's boys are ubiquitous in Grindhouse horror, following in the fevered footsteps of the Templars, and Witch-finders of old, our demonstrably bland Anti-Moby gleefully kills for Christ, although to be pedantic, the overly mythologised Templar Knights favoured John the Baptist. As demented splatter antagonists go, nebbish Jesaja is a rampantly unlovable cove, but the plentiful practical FX prove both effective, and horribly gruesome. Humans have been killing humans to appease their blood-thirsty gods since time immemorial, so why should the nerks in chunk-blowers be any different. In truth, I prefer secular slayers like Frank Zito, or Madman Marz, but every now and again, I don't mind watching a hyped-up holy roller do the lord's work. I must commend Herr Vancura who portrays a proper skeevey douche valve, his limpid, anodyne performance proved unexpectedly compelling to me.

 Angel Enforcers (1989) – Godfrey Ho.

This notorious purveyor of crazed cut n' paste Ninja Brain-melt was also a more than credible director of dynamite Kung Fu epics, and hell-for-leather heroic bloodshed. With dazzlingly acrobatic fight scenes, red-lined vehicular mayhem and bravura, Berretta blasting bellicosity, Angel Enforcers remains an incendiary, bona fide Girl with Guns master-blaster! Maverick cops taking on nefarious dope/diamond/flesh peddling gangsters were ubiquitous during HK action's gloriously blood-soaked heyday, and the scintillating introduction of fearlessly fighting females proved altogether welcome. It was not uncommon for the violent death of an undercover cop, or brother gangster to galvanize the protagonist/antagonist to vengeful retaliation, in this instance it is the latter, but he soon discovers that he must contend with the resiliently pistol packing, Kung fu Queens known collectively as the Angel Enforcers! Like placing a coin in a pinball machine, right from the get-go, the kinetic battery proves relentless, fellow fans of the inspector wears skirts, Iron Angels, or Rothrock's iconic Lady Reporter, Angel Enforcers is an eminently rewatchable, oestrogen-powered, furiously femme fighting, nitrous-injected, heroine bloodshed classic!

 Secrets of Sex aka Tales of The Bizarre. (1969) – Antony Balch.

Torrid, pop arty, serially strange sexploitation by beloved genre iconoclast Antony 'Horror Hospital' Balch dialectically explores the multifarious machinations of an, almost, exclusively heterosexual coitus. While a trifle self-conscious, and prone to clumsy slapstick n' tickled buffoonery, I can still dig it. Secrets of Sex is playfully inflected with a hash-hazed eccentricity that expresses the kaleidoscopic complexities of sexual desire. As with all anthologies, some episodes shall prove more edifying than others, much like a variety pack of breakfast cereals, there will always be a clear favourite, I favour the sublimely sadistic photographer, and the gruesome fate of her mortally unfortunate male muse. Balch's psychedelicized invocations of human sexuality is artificially veneered with the sinister baritone gravitas of legendary British character actor Valentine Dyall's deliciously portentous narration. My main takeaway from Secrets of Sex is that Mummy always knows best, and hateful middle-aged harridans who feloniously capture men's souls, evilly transplanting them into potted plants shall deservedly reap what they hath sown! While no less indelibly a product of the 60s than pre-decimal coinage, and the more outré day-glow fashions of Carnaby Street, Secrets of Sex remains a splendidly salacious, inventively kinky iteration of hedonistic Brit-smut.

 Trilogy of Lust (1995) Julie Lee/Tun-Fei Mou.

This brassy, sordid, uncommonly explicit Cat III skinflick features hardcore in-out, absolutely NO Pixelization of said naughty bits! A slovenly Fishmonger (Wai Dik-Chan) ventures to the mainland in order to find/purchase a wife (Julie Riva), once the deal is struck, their somewhat abusive matrimonial union is rocked to breaking point by his wife's increasingly flagrant extramarital nookie with a younger man. Needless to say, all this rampant cuckoldry, and the sinister scheming of his errant wife fatefully boils over to a bloody crescendo of cathartic Cat III unpleasantness. While it is indeed mighty lusty, it is NOT part of a trilogy, spawning an equally lurid, unrelated sequel, huzzah! I must confess that I found the graphic sex absolutely gratifying, I would also be interested to find out how it was initially marketed in China, and was it released entirely uncut in all Asian territories? Trilogy of Lust is arguably one of the most sexually extreme Cat III I have seen, and I can't help believe that many of the more outré examples of Nikkatsu Roman porno would benefit greatly from a similarly progressive lack of censorial interference.

 Black Magic Woman (1991) – Deryn Warren.

Slick, glossily erotic 90s occult thriller presents Mark Hamill's horn-dogging, upwardly mobile art curator Brad being understandably bewitched by the sultry, enticingly buxom sorceress Apollonia (Cassandra Perry), and not long thereafter plummeting his bourgeois life into a maelstrom of black magic-induced misfortune. It is quite fair to say that the picante Black Magic Woman is frequently prone to steamy Zalman King-isms, which proved saucily apropos. The performances are credible, and dare I say it, appreciably lusty, with Hamill proving dynamic as the cursed Lothario. While tech aspects are solid, Black Magic Woman's bunny boiler'd plot is a pretty standard iteration on the ol' hell hath no fury bobbins, but as vengefully scorned women go, hot tamale Apollonia has prodigious hex appeal! Director Warren conjures up some tangible menace in the suspenseful final act, wherein we see the brimstoned depths of Apollonia's dreadful ire.    

Hypnosis and Beyond (1980) – Robert Emenegger.

Another credulity baiting journey into the scurrilously speculative realm of mankind's hunger for extra-sensory potentialities, hosted by the ecstatically wonderful curator of all things gnostic...and Beyond, William Shatner. If the mesmerizing man-cake Mr. Shatner said God is a hedgehog, I would unquestioningly go thither, find a hedgehog, and reverently place it up my beautiful sit-upon, such is the breathtakingly lunar-like magnetism of Shatner's Promethean personality. My fellow Shatnoids will no doubt have already enjoyed this sumptuously exploratory TV delicacy, but it was a new one, apologies, a new aged one for me, and while there were, alas, no mention of omnipotent hedgehogs, it was generously replete with all the high-voltaged Shatnicity that I find so intellectually replenishing. 

 Verbotene Liebe aka Forbidden love (1990) – Helmut Dziuba.

Not exactly the love that dare not speak its name, but these teenaged dreamers nascent sexual awakening ultimately proves catastrophic once Barbara's parents discover what they've really been doing behind the bike sheds. With exquisite photography, an exceptionally quality text, and naturalistic performances, East German director Helmut Dziuba's compelling, emotionally charged drama remains no less electric today that upon its original release. With teenage pregnancies, homelessness, and long-term unemployment being anything but a distant memory in the UK, the themes of this impactful East German drama remain uncomfortably relevant.

While Georg and Barbara's absolutely earnest, yet injudicious affair acts as both a cautionary, and bitter sweet, melancholic tale, Dziuba's tender, humane feature contains moments of light, and great beauty that leavens the oppressive gloom of the final act. As a vivid snapshot of youthfully incandescent passions, Verbotene Liebe proves unerring, but it is also a remarkably sensitive portrayal of love and innocence, contrasted by the reactionary, pointedly judgemental, wholly unloving response of their peers, family members, and state. While my German is passable-ish, I missed some of the narrative subtleties, due to regional dialects, and the unfamiliar officious jargon during the court case, hopefully Forbidden Love, and other East German gems will be given some HD TLC.