Violent Shit III - Zombie Doom. (1999) – Andreas Schnaas.

A querulous group of friends anchor their boat on a remote island, populated by bloody tyrant overlord The Meister, his scarred, Anthropophagus-looking henchman, and multitudes of metallically masked, madly machete-wielding maniacs! Swiftly captured, they escape, and are forced to battle black demon ninjas, attack zombies, and The Meister's increasingly disposable minions. With heroic levels of gore, exceedingly bloody martial arts mayhem, and graphically chunk-blowing Zombie insanity, Schnaas has demonstratively upped his game for his relentlessly mental S.O.V splatter grenade Violent Shit 3! Should I ever have the good fortune to meet a horror film neophyte alien, who wanted me to suggest a batso B-Horror bloodbath that luridly expressed all that was best in S.O.V splatter, I would have little hesitation in strongly recommending Schnaas's inventively gruesome kill frenzy Violent Shit 3.

While it wouldn't be entirely correct labelling Zombie Doom as merely being a plotless excuse for unleashing plentiful cheap jack, chop socky carnage, there is an absence of plot, the vivid practical FX are surprisingly sophisticated, including a number of memorably graphic annihilations! Like Halloween before it, Violent Shit goes above and beyond in its 3^rd WTF instalment, Schnaas violently concluding his unrepentantly crude splatter trilogy with a ferociously flesh flaying finale! With such boisterously orchestrated slaughter, squib-heavy action, and such appalling dubbing, being almost tantamount to self-sabotage, no fan of trashy horror can be without at least one viewing of the gut-burstingly OTT Zombie Doom, as Schnaas's S.O.V schlock-gun delivers a double-barrelled, body rupturing blast of gratuitous Gore-mongery!

'Violent Shit III arguably remains the most righteously fucked S.O.V Zombie slasher brain fart, that your smarty pants film buddies have never heard of!'

 Nonnes A Tout Faire - Pere Cabanel.

Much like maestro Walerian Borowczyk, I maintain a healthily prurient curiosity as to what really goes on Behind Convent Walls, and director Cabanel generously provides a heavenly diorama of ceremonially cloistered in-out! I think it is fair to claim that by utilizing a raw cast of non-actors, and comprised moistly of hand-held camerawork, this unabashedly erotic film may be seen as a continuation of the groundbreaking verisimilitude formalized by the leading lights of the nouvelle vague. I am certainly not the first, and I shall not be the last to state that watching fleshly frolicking nuns can become devilishly habit forming. Since love is a universal language, the lack of subtitles shouldn't prove too distracting.

 Fatal Bond (1992) – Vincent Monton.

'Don't open a can of worms you can't eat!'

This unexpectedly thrilling 90s Aussie psychodrama centres around kindly hairdresser (Linda Blair) falling hard for handsome, enigmatic rogue Joe (Jerome Ehlers), and, soon, just like the song says, Too much love can kill you, baby! What begins as an apparently routine 'Did he, or did he not do a very bad thing?' erotic road thriller, very soon excitingly develops into an utterly compelling Oz-Crime barnstormer! Competently made, frequently suspenseful, with winning performances, and attractive Australian vistas, Fatal Bond is a more than watchable adult thriller, proving to be an additionally delicious treat for Linda Blair fans!!!!

Granted, she only gets one out, but even ONE delicious Linda Blair pectoral gland is sure fire better than NO Linda Blair pectoral gland, guy! Closing on a less salacious observation, the delectably pulchritudinous Blair, and partner Ehlers appear to have palpable chemistry, which genuinely kept me guessing as to the dark narrative's credible twist. In addition, it must also be said, Linda's abundant curly blonde tresses are absolutely exquisite to behold! (Keen muscular male botty watchers may also care to note that Ehlers brazenly gets it out, and it's a jolly fine specimen of steely Gluteus Maximus!)

 Stripped To Kill (1987) – Katt Shea.

Sexy strippers are being brutally slain, the cops, and fellow dancers believe Pockets (Peter Scranton)committed the fell deed, a regular gawker, prone to gifting favoured dancers with a plastic flower. While demonstratively a legit cuckoo bird, but is he a killer? spunky can-do undercover cop Cody (Kay Lenz) thinks otherwise, and stoically shakes her delectable booty as she bravely ferrets out the terrible truth! Right off the bat, whoever came up with the juicy gimmick of producing a supremely saucy slasher with pole-to-pole grinding hotties deserves at least TWO stars on Hollywood Boulevard, and if they additionally suggested the delicious Kay Lenz for the role on the pole, they righteously deserve another!

While the plot/killer is no less conspicuous than Rudolph's brightly crimson Xmas hooter, it doesn't distract the tiniest iota from Stripped To Kill being one of the most perfectly pulchritudinous, and ridiculously entertaining slashers ever made! I can readily accept that many don't share my conviction in Stripped To Kill's flawlessly lurid watchability, NO ONE can legitimately question the fact that firecracker Lenz delivers the finest acting performance of ANY slasher, then, or now, by quite some considerably artful margin! Likeable characters, suspense, slinky suspenders, properly banging 80s choons, bawdy banter, grim pyro deaths, and goddess Kay Lenz!!!!!!! F'N A' RIGHT!!!! Granted, there's been a lot of blood under the bridge, but Stripped To Kill pointedly contains the most beautifully slash-able bodies to have ever been stuffed inside a prop body bag! Hey!!! If y'all don't get wood at least once while watching this banger, it's absolutely time you finally pulled the trigger on that new penis upgrade, you've long been promising yourself!

 Lies (1999) – Jang Sun-woo.

Any explicitly transgressive erotic drama that commences with a lustful, CP-obsessed Middle-aged male J (Kwon Hyeok-pong), eagerly awaiting the imminent arrival of a luscious-looking 18yrold virgin Y (Kim Tae-Yeon) for some no-holes-barred bonking, certainly has the potential for true greatness. Based on an apparently controversial Korean novel, Lies presents their first, evidently 'impactful' sexual encounter with vigour, humanity, and an exhilarating frankness! Shot on film, much of their increasingly exploratory lovemaking is graphically captured with a hand-held camera, yet the film's innate grain, and rich colour palate adds additional texture, had it been shot on video, the CAT-III level Lies may have appeared like some pseudo-artsy S&M pornography. Each of the tantalisingly amorous, Hotel-set assignations is preceded with a chapter/title heading, perhaps, a direct reference to the novel itself? Lies is a deliciously raunchy Korean CP treat, and remains one production whose credits CANNOT claim that 'no human bottoms were hurt making this film'.

Leavened with an additional patina of dramatic interest, namely J's estranged, CP-loathing wife in Paris, Y's somewhat fractious relationship with a jealous schoolfriend, and her delinquent brother, Lies remains luridly focussed upon the sexual, largely CP-centric content. I don't believe Lies is a 'pornographic' film, it is a stridently intimate drama that uninhibitedly portrays frequently graphic sexual content. Not especially penetrating intellectually, the playful, loving exchanges, striking footage of the joyfully rutting lovers, and subsequent shifts in their power dynamic proved compelling. The naturalistic performances are winningly unfiltered, director Sun-woo's brazen, spankingly sexy Lies struck me as being engagingly honest. If the bottom-unfriendly Lies had been released at the very same time as Last Tango in Paris, Bertolucci's smug, navel-gazed hump-a-rama wouldn't have raised Sir Roger Moore's other, conspicuously sedate eyebrow!

 Baptism of Blood aka Senrei (1996) - Kenichi Yashihara.

Stricken with a disfiguring malaise, TV icon Izumi Wakakusa (Mie Yoshida)undertakes a cruel treatment, using the alien methodology of nefarious Dr. Meredith (Tatsuya Go), which, in essence, mortally hijacks the delectable body of her nubile daughter Sakura (Rie Imamura). Once poor Sakura gets wind of her mother's ultimate treachery, the delightfully skewed narrative escalates with a demented Cat III zeal, in exhilaratingly warped Baptism of Blood! The ailing mother is delightfully monstrous, ravenously covetous of her beautiful young daughter's lustrous complexion, and lissom body, utterly ruthless in her desire to transplant her brain into her daughter's pretty head!

Gruesome, melodramatic, sinisterly surreal, and altogether bizarre, the Neo-Gothic shocker Baptism of Blood is an often blackly funny, sublimely inventive, thrillingly nuts J-Horror treat! The truly excruciating, and exquisitely prolonged brain extraction procedure remains a macabre masterclass in H.R Giger-inflected steampunk splatter! Based on a story by Japanese Horror maestro Kazuo Umezo, his winningly off-centre shocker Baptism of Blood remains a madly compelling, uniquely strange J-Horror confection, generously layered with far richer ingredients than blandly remade, dully recycled mainscream British/U.S horror fare.

 The Wrong Door (1990) – Bill Weiss.

Student Ted (Matt Felmlee), a gifted creator of audio drama, disturbingly finds himself cast as The Wrong Man opening The Wrong Door, whereupon he coincidentally witnesses the slaying of a young woman, and is plunged frantically into a whip-crack Hitchcockian nightmare noir/mystery. Super-8 indie miracle The Wrong Door has the chutzpah to punch well above its weight, proving itself to be a rousing, smart, breathlessly paced, knock-out thriller. For a feature shot on such a small gauge it has big ideas, and frequently delivers some satisfyingly widescreen suspense! Amiable Young Actor Felmlee is sublime as the innocent naif, the unlikeliest of heroes, relentlessly pursued by two Brat Pack thugs, one of whom is doing his best to channel his inner James Spader, but thuggishly projecting a B-level James Russo, which, quite frankly, ain't too shabby!!!!

Once again, deep-diggers Visual Vengeance, those stalwart curators of intoxicatingly Home-brewed S.O.V Gore-mongery are to be enormously commended for nurturing this compelling S.O.S (shot on Super-8) thriller onto HD for the delight, and universal delectation of cult movie treasure seekers worldwide! The Wrong Door is a cherishable rarity, a hitherto neglected, unjustly obscure, VHS-era Bobby Dazzler, that enjoys quality performances, a cogent, suspenseful text, engagingly visual film-making aesthetic, and a palpably thrilling climax! With its playful, sympathetic protagonist, and serpentine De Palma/Hitchcock plot, I was resolutely gripped throughout, for me, The Wrong Door is a truly inspirational, indie-film-making marvel!