Revisiting…Sexy Beast (2000)

The opening scene of Sexy Beast is one of great comical foreboding.

Retired safe-cracker Gal, played with subtle potency by the wonderful Ray Winstone, is your typical Brit abroad, a red lobster baking in the Spanish heat and loving every minute of it. His dysfunctional family consists of his beloved partner Dee Dee, an ex porn star with just as much reason to escape her homeland, another gangland couple with a similarly unfortunate past, and a young Spanish boy who performs chores around Gal’s villa with the adoring smile of an adulating son…

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Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers (1988)

I have to be honest; this is not what I was expecting at all.

On the surface it is everything you would imagine it to be. It is a movie about chainsaw wielding nutjobs masquerading as barfly hookers. It is grainy filters and sordid, neon-lit streets, a visual scattergun that would leave the likes of Tarantino creaming themselves as buckets of blood and viscera splash against sopping pairs of heaving bosoms. It is B-movie acting, porn star extras, and enough sleaze to leave you slick with delight…

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Revisiting…The Naked Gun Trilogy

Airplane will always be the original Zucker/Abrahams benchmark, and there were a few other notable efforts in-between, but for me The Naked Gun is the pinnacle of their deadpan genius, and there is nothing you can suggest that will ever change my mind.

There are perhaps a number of reasons for my particular bias, but the most telling is the fact that I saw The Naked Gun long before I did its puerile predecessor, and by the time I got around to finally seeing Airplane – of which I had acquired lofty expectations – the comedy seemed just a little watered down by comparison…

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Intruder (1989)

Intruder is something of an anomaly.

Made at the tail-end of the 1980s, it was released long after the MPAA had stepped in to curtail the wanton bloodlust of the slasher boom, an imposition on civil liberties that would lead to years of the kind of tepid horror that would turn the genre stale. Just as Jason Voorhees was setting sail for Manhattan in perhaps the most censored of an ever-diluting formula, director Scott Spiegel let rip with his supermarket splatterfest of ingeniously depraved proportions…

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Chopping Mall (1986)

Long before Amazon and Facebook turned us all into hermits, shopping malls were our cultural epicentre.

Each weekend teenagers would flock in their legions, hanging out at their favourite arcades or fast food restaurants and marvelling at the colourful array of consumer products that were not yet accessible at the click of a touchpad. Inevitably, these monuments to consumerism became schoolyards away from home…

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