Sunday, January 31, 2021

'Blood Feast' (1963) - H.G Lewis.

Not overly fond of vapid-tasting Vegan trysts, I always scurrilously savoured the bloody raw, savagely-seasoned, fright-flecked flavour of sensationally creep-steeped, fabulously ferocious, cranium-crushing, torso-tormenting Drive-in calamity, 'Blood Feast' - 'There's no such thing as onerous overkill in H.G Lewis's luridly limb-lopping lexicon and his hyperbolically insensitive, uncommonly uncivilized oeuvre of diabolically destructive, terminally tongue-tearing, mind-mutilating movie making has no perfidious peer! 'This bravura, titillatingly twisted, vampishly visceral, brazenly body-bisecting, ecstatically eviscerating B-Movie bacchanal of fiendishly flesh-filleting, generously gore-filled, salaciously staged, skin-sheddingly sinister, scintillatingly shock-slathered cinematic schadenfreude makes 'Hostel' look like 'Carry on Camping'!!!

'Relax! It will only hurt tremendously!'

'Yo!!! Lady Gaga kept her carnivore diet on the QT!' 

'Bishtar!? Wishstar!? Fishstar!??? My kingdom for an Ishtar!' 

'I'm stabby on the inside too, doll-face!'





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