Jack Palance's Unknown Powers (1978) – Don Como.

The toweringly charismatic Jack Palance introduces, and co-hosts another exploratory 'documentary' into the altogether mythic realm of mankind's quest for alien forces seemingly unbound by natural law. Not exactly ponderous, but much of Jack Palance's Unknown Powers is rather more sober in its investigations of strange preternatural phenomenon than many other schlockumentaries of the same era. It is engagingly put together, mostly avoiding the shrill hyperbole usually expected of the deliciously disreputable mondo genre. While much, if not all of the phenomena herein has long-since been debunked, it happily remains an entertainingly spurious time-capsule of the 1970s feverish interest in the supernatural, pyramidal pseudo-science, psychic chicanery, occultism, and the still hugely questionable reality of extra terrestrials. It is, of course, episodic fare, with some episodes appearing infinitely less credible than others, ones readiness to believe is simply down to the individual's credulity. Cognoscenti of Fortean media will no doubt find this a satisfying experience, and it's an additional treat seeing Will Geer, and Samantha Eggar adding their estimable dramatic talents to Don Como's amusingly fictitious goof-a-rama. I think it somewhat fair to state that any discussion of stigmata, psychic surgery, and the not so Reverend Jim Jones's power to heal is a giddy leap into the Twilight Zone, especially since Jones's sole egregious talent was for vile duplicity, and mass murder.

 Dead Mine (2012) – Steven Sheil.

A wealthy capitalist, a furtive WWII researcher, and a hardened military outfit find themselves trapped in an apparently derelict Indonesian mine, but instead of unearthing a fabled treasure trove of looted war gold, they discover crazed, subterranean anthropoids, and a terrifying troop of zombie samurai! Undeniably well-made, Dead Mine is no less pointedly derivative, and I think it's absolutely fair to say that without Shockwaves and The Outpost, Dead Mine would run at least 70 minutes shorter. While I was unable to connect with the generic protagonists, I greatly enjoyed the brutal antagonists, being especially appreciative of the righteous-looking mutant Samurai Warriors! Dead Mine falls short of director Steven Sheil's sleazoid Brit-cult classic Mum & Dad, as the stock characters, and prosaic dialogue prove wearisome, yet it isn't entirely without merit. Sadly lacking the inventiveness, and prodigious splatter of Dead Snow, or Army of Frankensteins, this Dead Mine yields precious few nuggets of horror gold.

 Amazing World of Ghosts (1978) – Wheeler Dixon.

'Are ghosts really aliens from outer space?'

Wheeler Dixon's cult 'documentary' on the existence of supernatural phenomena provides all the empiric truth of a biblical parable, this fascinating conflation of myth, lore, and outright ballyhoo is a key example of vintage schlock science. This sublimely hyperbolic schlock-doc proves the existence of the preternatural realm, about as conclusively as the Turin Shroud provides incontrovertible evidence of god. The lurid formula for most mondo documentaries is inviolate; plentiful stock footage/blurry photos, noisome library music, and doomy electronic noodling, plus a melodramatic, portentous, deliciously spurious narration. With fact as anathema, the entertainment value of Dixon's wickedly goofy Amazing World of Ghosts are the bravura levels of arrant nonsense, duplicity, and hysterical anti-science, poorly masqueraded as truth.

One of the more amusingly erroneous inconsistencies is utilising the iconic shot of Big Foot from the long debunked Patterson-Gimlin film, with the narrator dramatically claiming it to be absolutely proof positive of the elusive Yeti, captured against the icy Nepalese tundra!!!???? The crass misrepresentation of source material is no less bold, as it is glaringly specious, providing one of the more innately jocular elements of Wheeler Dixon's blithely truthless expose of the supernatural Amazing World of Ghosts. I can state with reasonable surety that the 'strange orbs' manifesting within the haunted estate are snooker balls in close-up. Surely, even in 1978, the concept of a 'super-sonic UFO' was anachronistic? While I don't believe Amazing World of Ghosts is a trip beyond all human imagination, it's certainly a trip!

 Rise of The Footsoldier : Origins. (2021) – Nick Nevern.

Possibly my least favourite instalment in the popular Brit-crime franchise, but Jones proved to be a surprisingly effective enforcer, and some of the cast's shonky syrups are good for a giraffe. Shrill, palpably recycled, and dramatically undernourished, but arguably worth a watch for more stalwart fans. This umpteenth iteration of The Essex Boys thug mythos frequently proved itself to be a bit pony, and I could tell something was proper sketchy by the absurd adornment of Keith Allen's count Richelieu 'stash, plus the fatigued script, puttering to its listless climax with all the rigor of a well-wankered Ford Capri didn't help. Even Fairbrass's psychotically bellicose Pat Tate furiously shit-cunting for all his worth, the uninspired Rise of The Footsoldier : Origins proved to be a pallid, and wholly unoriginal example of disposable chav-pulp.

 Haunted Echoes (2008) – Harry Bromley-Davenport.

A grieving couple move into a new home following the tragic murder of their only child, but it very soon appears that a restless spirit doesn't care to make them feel welcome. Not altogether unappetizingly, Haunted Echoes frequently exudes the hysteria of a 70s TV-Movie-of-The-Week, yet the able cast often elevates the formulaic, excessively melodramatic text. The plot, performances are above average, but the gaudy post production effects prove distracting, which is a shame, as once Haunted Echoes got going, it is really rather good! I must applaud the cast, Sean Young is solid, often expressing her very own haunted echoes of Joan Crawford, no less credible is David Starzyk as her hubby, and beautiful Juliet Landau is never less than a joy to behold, but, for me, the winning scene stealer is Barbara Bain, since her bugged 'Crazy Cat Lady' is pure dynamite!

 The Clairvoyant aka The Killing Hour (1982) – Armand Mastroiani.

I believe there is some argument to suggest that The Clairvoyant is one of the 80s more unsung horror-edged psycho thrillers. Its heady admixture of exploitation, paranormal, and police procedural tropes remains compelling. A maniac stalks the city, seemingly killing victims arbitrarily, the NYC cops have little to go on, excluding the fact, each body has been handcuffed, their only lead is that of a young artist (Elizabeth Kemp) whose febrile charcoal sketches eerily predicted each of the brutal slayings. The Clairvoyant has an especially dynamic 1^st act, the kills are nasty, and viscerally executed, drawing you deeply into the maniacal mystery of this elusive, highly organised psychopath.

The gallery of characters remain vividly drawn, entertainingly portrayed by charismatic actors, Perry King's pushy anchor man proves magnetic, with the gamine mademoiselle Kemp making for a sympathetic damsel in distress. Genre cinema shot in NYC from the late 70s, early 80s has a lasting appeal, the depleted grandeur of this storied metropolis, has indelibly influenced 50s noir, 60s Avant sleaze, 70s new wave, and 80s Grindhouse horror, providing an enigmatic backdrop to some of the very best, and worst in cinema. Not as visually stylised as De Palma, The Clairvoyant is a suspenseful, sharply paced, frequently gripping extrasensory midnight chiller, ballasted with strong performances, and a memorably twisted reveal at its fervid conclusion.

 The Untold Story 2 (1998) – Yiu-Kuen Ng.

The sequel to Wong's immortally gory classic is absolutely watchable, but the ingredients are palpably less bloody than the demented original. A sensitive, melancholy restaurant owner (Emotion Cheung)is married to a beautiful, yet narcissistic, crass, materialistic, and wholly unfaithful wife (Yeung Fan), and the fateful arrival of her equally attractive mainlander cousin (Paulyn Sun) provides the eroticized catalyst to The Untold Story 2's satisfyingly meaty final act. While relatively light in sanguineous mayhem, the sexy sequel remains eminently entertaining, largely due to Anthony Wong's amiably inept cop, and the sultrily distracting presences of two exquisitely lovely femme fatales. Some splatter mad hatters may baulk at the confounding idea of a sequel that isn't crammed, gusset-to-gusset with sleaze and Cat III chunkblowing, but I applaud creative filmmakers who don't simply carbon copy the original as a cynical act of fanboy appeasement. There's explicit nudity, erotic scenes, moderate gore/cannibalism, and lively performances from a talented cast. While The Untold Story 2 is a manifestly different animal, it certainly isn't toothless, in fact, this vulpine pair of sinister sirens prove to be apex predators!

Game Show Models (1977) – David Neil Gottlieb.

Game Show Models is humdrum, hippiefied 70s ephemera, featuring sporadic nudity, moderate in-out and delusions of drama. To be fair, the always welcome presence of the charismatic B-Movie icon Dick Miller may attract more forgiving schlock seekers. I assume Game Show Models was intended to be a satire on the mercenary, kill 'em all mendacity of Hollywood's backroom power brokers, but the text is far too soft, and the appropriately named Stuart Goober proved to be a somewhat flaccid protagonist. I mostly zoned out of Goober's travails at the Slick Dick PR agency, populated with vapid, L.A schemers, but Gottlieb's harmless little film provides a few sympathetic snapshots of the infamous city of angels, and Goober's uncommonly exquisite paramour Cici (Diane Sommerfield) is absolutely delicious! 

 Zombie Women of Satan (2009) - Warren Speed/Steve O'Brien.

'Daddy's doing experiments, and they've all gone mad!!!!'

A colourful troupe of ragamuffin burlesque entertainers participate in a popular influencer's channel Rawe TV, and during the interview a horde of beauteous women, dosed on some alien drug turn monstrously feral and run bloodily amok! It isn't the first time I have had my cherished theorem proved correct, a belief that any low budget Zombie flick becomes vastly more compelling when said zombies are crazed, deliciously nubile, lingerie-clad, top-popping hotties. My sole legitimate beef with this inventively gory, absurdly brilliant British Zom-com is that I only wish that I had come up with Pervo, the inspirationally priapic, almost perpetually masturbating clown! While cinema is most certainly NOT a meritocracy, as if it were, the gruesomely psychotronic buzz-bomb Zombie Women of Satan would be infinitely more popular than the episodic Shaun of The Dead. Lewd, nude, and spectacularly skewed, Zombie Women of Satan is Apex terror trash, a titillating admixture of unrepentant smuttiness, ribald humour, and righteous Gore-mongery!