February 21, 2015


Exploitation Movie Review (EMR): It’d be fair to say that without Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky, there’d be no Shawshank Redemption, except in this movie, the Andy Dufresne character is marginally less of a bitch about everything and can punch stuff REAL hard. Brief research into this movie tells me that it’s based on a Manga comic book, and that research is really boring and totally for nerds. Production value wise, this is a noticeable step up from the dreck that we’re used to watching, instead of, y’know, socialising and eulogising Christopher Nolan movies like assholes.


EMR: The movie starts with a bus ride to a future-prison. A voice-over tells us that "By 2001 AD, prisons, like car-parks, have become franchised businesses," but why "car-parks" has been used specifically, instead of, say, a million other things you’d probably think of first when you hear the word "franchise," distracted me for a second and now I’m pissed because I’ve had to rewind the movie a little. It’s also worth noting that whoever’s doing the voice-over isn’t even reading the subtitles properly and that feels like a betrayal. This is a lot of negative emotion to experience during the first five minutes.  

TEOS: Before the movie even begins, the opening logo is almost-but-not-quite Cannon Films, much like Riki-Oh is almost-but-not-quite a nightmare I had that time I ate the all-green burrito. The foreboding music isn’t really helping my all-around mood, either. Between that and how sad everyone looks on the prison bus, I find that my eyes keep wandering to the Youtube sidebar that is recommending other films to watch, i.e., Jet Li’s Sexy Temple, the preview screen of the video being a decidedly not-at-all-Asian beauty with her generous bikini-clad tits softly caressing the beach sand below her, and the look in her eyes says, “Oh, yes - I think I dropped my vagina...could you retrieve it for me?”

And I…completely lost my train of thought here. What’s up?

EMR: It’s prison time! And it’s Ricky’s turn to step forward as a contestant on How Many Years Have I Been Given For A Petty Misdemeanour? He’s sent the metal detector into the kind of frenzy usually reserved for the TFP Student Action website when someone shouts "gay marriage" at the entrance to their cave.

Woah there, guys. This gay little West Side Story synchronized baton block move that Ricky’s just pulled off is probably some kind of challenge to your authority. You’ll probably want to try and avoid those.

TEOS: Once they x-ray his body, it becomes clear why he set off the metal detectors in the first place: it’s all those steel M&Ms he ate over the years that became lodged in his lungs. How embarrassing...

EMR: “The warden is the most powerful person in this prison. After him, it’s the assistant warden,” the narrator helpfully tells us. I’ve found that after watching this movie, I’m struggling with even the most rudimentary of tasks. I’ve been finding it necessary to describe everything I do in the minutest detail. Oddly enough, it’s really affecting my work, but doing wonders for my sex-life. Kids just love to learn.

Man, this writing’s such an insult to my intelligence that I’ve spent the last few hours trying to connect it to Damon Lindelof.

TEOS: I kinda rely on this narration in my every-day life, only I’m the one doing the narration - very much aloud, and with the tiniest bit of encouragement. “Yeah...pull that sock up. No, wait, not too much. Right...there. That’s the ticket. You’re so good.”

And yeah, between Prometheus and his all-around trendy-bald visage, I’m pretty confident in saying Damon Fondlelove can find a rock and be under it for the rest of my life and then his, because he’ll live longer, because he’s rich, and therefore happier, and yeah, money does buy happiness, can we just stop shitting ourselves about that? People keep saying it doesn't, but you just KNOW it's all part of some plot for the money people to keep all that money.

EMR: I was a little crass before. Let’s touch base: I HATE Damon Lindelof. I know the internet was created by Russian psychics during the 1960s for the express purpose of hating Damon Lindelof in the future, and I guess it’s not exactly original to hate Damon Lindelof, AND I’ve ragged on him in almost every article we’ve written since we met, but just as smearing the walls of your house with your own shit is commonly accepted as “the improper thing to do,” hating Damon Lindelof feels like such a natural impulse that I’m surprised the narrator of this film hasn’t already told me how to do it, in pleasing baritone.

TEOS: Main man Riki-Oh is serving a dime for manslaughter and assault, and whatever joke I was going to make has been completely abandoned in favor of pointing out that I originally accidentally typed “mans laughter,” so now I’m picturing Riki on stage somewhere doing a horrendous “didja ever notice?”-type bit that Seinfeld would have done back in ‘89, but now it'd be through a hard-to-decipher Chinese accent, and his all-man audience is laughing so hard that they’re all dying one by one of brain aneurysms.

I...think I lost my train of thought again. Seriously, what’s up, man?

EMR: Do they not know about urinal protocol in the far east? Four guys! Standing in a row! Taking a piss! All of them! Fucking savages. I’ve counted, and there are SIX urinals in this bath house. I did the calculations for them, and at worst, only one of them would have to use a cubicle to take a bitch piss.

TEOS: Man, prisoners are really mean. Also, Chinese prisons of the future look like bathhouses of the past and present, only in this bathhouse, everyone’s wearing black clothes. And is Chinese.

EMR: This bath house looks minimalist and stylised, like the set of Jail House Rock. If they’ve not spent dollar one on this set, then what the hell HAVE they spent the budget on? I’m looking down the cast and crew list for Harry Knowles’ name in there, but I’m turning up nothing.

TEOS: Man holds up wooden toy train. Man says something threatening. Man smashes wooden train onto head of other man. I consider making “trained” or “he’s in training” joke. I decline. I look at Jet Li’s Sexy Temple tits again.

EMR: FUCK! This is crazy gory. He’s just hit that old guy square in the face with the flat side of a lathe and it looks like he’s been attacked by an axe with a wolf tied to the end of it. In this movie’s universe, even sneezing is risky fucking business.

TEOS: Jesus, that man’s face just became an Aunt Flo Is In Town-type situation of the vaginal sort. I’d find it amusing if I hadn’t just lightly touched my nose in panicked response.

EMR: Where’s this old guy getting all of this shit from, anyway? Stuff keeps falling out of his overalls like it’s Mary Poppins’ fucking bag or something. Suppose I believe that the inside of his overalls are an endless Narnia of woodworking tools; why’s he carrying this stuff around? Why’s he carrying it around in the bathroom? Worst case scenario, having a wooden train and a lathe stuffed down his pants would make him look like he had a hard-on, but that’d be stupid because who’s ever heard of a male prisoner getting a hard-on around a bunch of other male prisoners?

TEOS: These guys are really really mean to him and it’s making me almost have a feeling.

Welp, that passed.

EMR: You sure you’re ok to carry on? Because I’m sure this old guy probably has an entire tampon machine hidden in his overalls if you think you need one?

TEOS: Don't be mean.

Oh, man! The ol’ foot-trip, face-sailing-down-and-impaling-on-a-bed-of-nails trick! Gets ‘em every time! I haven’t laughed that hard at sudden gruesome violence since I read the true story of the first Thanksgiving. But, at least he used his hand to break his nail-fall. It didn’t really work, but, it certainly added to my pleasure.

EMR: Decide what you’re doing, movie. Are you a violent, dystopic image of the future, or are all about the passive aggressive posturing of these three dildos who get scared when someone makes crazy eyes at them? Because at the minute, you’re one part The Terminator and one part The Warriors.

TEOS: So, in the future, you can get nails driven into your eyes, throat, and brain, and bleed profusely, but a couple bandages will fix you right up. File that knowledge somewhere in the back of your mind, nestled in between your fond remembrance of the first time you fingered a girl and all the Rush lyrics.

EMR: Milk? You’re bringing the "North South Killer" milk? Is that like me taking Kool-Aid to Jeffrey Dahmer? Or taking something other than the bath water I used to drown a hooker to Brett Ratner?

TEOS: Check out 9:58 to see the daintiest guard in the land skipping up the stairs and whistling. I haven’t avoided making such a gay joke since...never. That guy’s gayer than pink Peeps.

EMR:  Ha! Zorro looks like the Butterball Cenobite from Hellraiser. Wait, why are the guards and the other prisoners always fucking with this old guy from before? I mean, sure, it’s creepy that they call him "old man" and he’s made a wooden toy for his son, who I’m assuming has to be aged between 3 and 3 ½ , but that doesn’t mean people have got to beat on him every five minutes. Can’t an old pervert with a wife and young children catch a fucking break in the future?!

TEOS: Yeah, that old man is just trying to mind his own business and keep his head down while he makes all those orange whips that John Candy asks for in The Blues Brothers.

Wait a minute. HOW did Riki get out of his cell? HOW did he snap those handcuffs in half like they were bought from Walmart? And HOW does he have that wooden toy train, all put together again?


EMR: Being able to tear handcuffs apart is surely indicative of a super-human power to which we have not yet been fully introduced. If you were this super strong, why the hell would you be wasting away in a futuristic dystopia-jail? I really, REALLY hope that doesn’t come back to haunt this movie at, say, the climax. Hey, ever been so angry you’ve beaten up rain? Ricky has, and the rain’s going to have to wear sunglasses and tell all of its friends that it accidentally walked into a door.

TEOS: Not yet, but election season is right around the corner.

EMR: Politics joke™! Stay tuned...

TEOS: Sure, bad guy. Suuure. First he pisses into a urinal RIGHT next to someone else in an otherwise abandoned bathroom, and NOW he’s choosing to stand right next to Riki in the shower room and watch as he wets down. I could make a joke about repressed homosexual tendencies, but there’s really nothing funny about that, is there?

TEOS: “Someone gave me 30 pounds of rice to finish you off and turn you into mincemeat to put you in a pie!” Zorro shouts, the most specifically themed threat ever.

EMR: Haha! “Finish you off.” Hey, this is Southeast Asia, and when was the last time a white girl jerked you off in a massage parlour? Plus prison, plus sweaty dudes that seem to conduct all of their business in the bath house. If it hadn’t been for all the violence and suicide, I’d think I was just watching regular gay porn.

TEOS: God, the violence in this really is amazing. It’s not like Sin City violence where after a while you scream, “ALL RIGHT, I GET IT.” This thing really takes its time, but when it wants to be violent, it’s almost insane. I’m starting to dig you, Riki-Oh.

Also, who knew Zorro could hold so much bloody goo in his belly?

EMR: And all I can think about throughout this entire scene is how unhygienic it is for Bandage Face to shower with a bandage on his face. Also, it’s weird that Riki, Bandage Face, and Zorro are all in little, black shower diapers, but there’s one guy showering normally with his cock and balls, y’know, out. Under normal circumstances, this display of non-compliance with preconceived notions of "the showering experience" makes Riki, Bandage Face, and Zorro the odd-ones out. but in this case it’s majority rule. Fuck you, shower pervert with your cock and balls out.

TEOS: Part of me senses there is some kind of supernatural power within the majestic body of Riki-Oh, but I prefer to think that he’s just really really really pissed off. So when he gets nails through the hand, he doesn’t even fucking care, you idiot.

EMR: You’ve got to admire the balls on this tattooed asshole who tells us that he runs the north wing of the prison. I know he’s only just walked in on this carnage, but two guys lying in pools of their own intestinal tract with their stomachs missing is a plot from "The X-Files" and not the kind of thing you walk in on when you’re about to take a shower. The last time I walked in on two guys in the shower who’d been fisted so hard that their stomachs fell out, I was at Andy Dick’s house trying to fix the plumbing.

TEOS: Well, this “leader” of the prison’s north wing is named Oscar, which is important information to have, so later, when someone says something like, "Cut off Oscar's asshole," you'll know who they mean. Following their meeting, Riki gets locked up with promises that he’ll be seeing the assistant warden tomorrow. Now, if you remember your lessons, the assistant warden is the most powerful man in the prison...UNDER the warden. So help you if you did NOT remember that.

Riki promptly sits down indian style and begins doing some performance art dancing while simultaneously looking like he’s attempting to ward off a heart attack.

EMR: Well, there it is: the quickest superhero origin story ever told. Twenty minutes into the movie, Riki has a flash-back to a chance meeting with his long lost “Uncle” (yeah, right) in a cemetery, and with around 14 seconds of exposition, you now know everything you would ever reasonably need to know about Riki and his special skills. It hasn’t been this simple to understand something since the narrator told me about the power structure at this prison.

Yeah, I’m recycling jokes. Fuck you. You write a blog.

TEOS: Not all the time… :(

This movie has a 7.2 on IMDB, by the way.

EMR: So does John Wick.

How does that make you feel?

TEOS: Fuck you, that was low.

EMR: I wouldn't pay it much mind, to be honest. True Lies also holds a 7.2 rating, and that was James Cameron's last stab at making films for men.

TEOS: Riki as a simple school boy turns me on.

I mean--!

EMR: Fuck me, man. CONCENTRATE!

TEOS: So, despite the knowledge that this guy is Riki’s uncle, there is something severely homoerotic about the way this scene ends: Riki grasps at his uncle’s ankle while on his knees and looks up into his eyes, pleading with him, “Teach me!” And then his uncle laughs to the heavens.

If “origin stories” were this gay in every superhero movie (making them even gayer), I’d probably see a lot more superhero movies. Not that I’m...into that stuff. But, not that there’s anything wrong with it.

Deeper down the rabbit hole I go…

EMR: If by “rabbit” you mean “dude’s ass” then, yeah, I’d say you were about an inch away from a 12-month subscription to The San Francisco Bay Times.

TEOS: So, yeah. Chico (?), according to Uncle of Riki, has a force harvested from the universe and has the power to turn one’s body into “a natural shield.”

Good enough for me! This is still better than all the Spider-Mans.

But seriously, what’s he saying? Chico? Mchicko? Unchiko? What the fuck is coming out of that Asian mouth?

EMR: Hang on a second...wasn't that chick in Ninja Terminator called "Mechicko"?

TEOS: Mind blown.

You know, this is one of the rare films from the Two Guys archives that I actually used to own. Watching it again, I totally regret getting rid of it.

Actually, analyzing that observation again, I realize that...I’ve owned nearly all of our previous films.

What in the good fuck is wrong with me?

EMR: You’re asking me like I can answer with anything other than, "Hey, you know what’s a good movie? Payback!” And that’s not even an answer. In fact, it’s just another question, but with its own answer.

TEOS: Preeeetty sure that’s pornography covering the assistant warden’s bookshelves. A lot of pornography. I don’t know what’s more jarring: all the pornography, or Riki’s continuity-be-damned shorter hairdo. 

EMR: I like to think that the assistant warden only has his pornography on display when the main warden is away, and the rest of the time his shelves are stacked with books like How To Be A Successful Assistant Warden, Cooking Steak So Rare That It Actually Makes The Blood Turn Into Preserve, and Which Is The Best Unnatural Glass Eye Colour For You?

In the assistant warden’s case, it’s orange. Just in case you wanted to know.

Eugh. I bet his porn isn’t even alphabetized. What a dick.

TEOS: One of the guards is reading Riki’s file aloud to the assistant warden, and though he rattles off a lot of factoids, you will remember only the same thing I do: Riki studied the flute.

Cue my ha ha.

EMR: This one time, at band camp, I punched a guy so hard his guts fell out.

TEOS: Question: when the assistant warden flings open Riki’s shirt and demands to know why there are bullets in his chest and Riki clearly smiles, do you think that’s the actor breaking character, or do you think that’s Riki smiling because he’s really proud of being a supernatural bad-ass? Hint: there's a third option that I haven’t made obvious to you.

EMR: Do you think it’s weird we can tell that it’s pornography just from the edge of the video cases? We can’t see anything clearly, but there’s just something at the back of our minds that’s telling us that those videos are DEFINITELY pornography. It’s like a sixth sense we’ve developed, except I’m not a fat Haley Joel Osment desperately trying to work out why the rest of my body grew, but my face didn’t.

TEOS: Oh shit, that is pornography. That is really….well, I don’t even know. If the pornography on my hard drive were converted to over-sized VHS cases, me and the assistant warden would be pretty neck and neck.

EMR: In the same way that Riki and I are neck and neck in knowing an actual martial art? Let me put it to you like this: if you’re doing all the exhibition moves, but not actually turning someone’s face into their neck like Tony Jaa does, all you’re doing is dancing, and dancing is gay. Except when Bruce Lee did it, because he learnt to dance so he could learn to KILL!

TEOS: This is the greatest “I was in love once” flashback I have ever seen. Not only have I never seen one with a remote-controlled helicopter, I’ve never seen one with TWO. 


EMR: Eww. There’s something developmentally...not quite right about Riki’s girlfriend, isn’t there? This backstory is becoming distinctly "Michael Jackson." If only there was something a bit more "Prince" about him, this movie could end with him chocking out a white hot guitar solo as he flew off into the distance on the back of a spaceship. Plus pussy. Lots of pussy. Amazonian warrior maiden pussy.

TEOS: Getting back to the whole “doing things in order” theme we’ve been kicking back and forth, a bunch of prisoners are ganging up on another, demanding that he:
  • Listen up, asshole.
  • Eat shit.
  • Lick their shoes clean.
  • Get cut up, the pieces fed to the dogs.
“Andrew!” the other prisoners exclaim in shock, which is hilarious, because of all the names I could fathom for a crazy Chinese prisoner threatening mutilation against another human being while holding this saw...

...sorry, it ain't Andrew.

EMR: So, this bald guy is being taken to task because he’s been "finking" on other prisoners? "Finking"? Of all the movies not made in the 1940s where I didn’t expect to hear that term, this is at the top of my list. It’s also at the top of "Reasons Why I Will Always Hate My Parents for Having Sex."

Hey, why the hell does Oscar get to wear a body-builder t-shirt and the others have to wear regular, "somewhere-slanty" pajamas?

TEOS: Wow, I look away from the screen for just a few minutes and when I come back someone’s been crucified with chains? Jesus! (Pun both intended and not intended.)

EMR: You missed a pretty serious display of the assistant warden’s thighs, as well. It was the most theatrical thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen Theatre! The Musical.

TEOS: Riki and Oscar engage in some pretty serious fisticuffs, and it’s fair for about seven seconds before Oscar blinds Riki with some magic blinding glitter and then nearly cuts off Riki’s arm at the elbow. During this, a hundred prisoners stop what they’re doing to watch the fight unfold.

“Has anyone been killed yet?” asks one of them, with all the casualness of someone walking back into the living room with a fresh bowl of pretzels and asking for an update on his or her sport squadron of choice.

And because Riki is the goddamn man, he (1) recovers from his blindness, (2) literally knocks Oscar’s eye out by slapping him on the back of the dead, and then (3) ...TIES OFF THE TENDONS IN HIS GAPING-OPEN WRIST before preparing for even MORE ass-kicking with the requisite “h’yah!”

TEOS: I would be eternally envious of Riki’s badassness if I weren’t also fucking terrified of him at the same time. I have a feeling that my recurring nightmare of being flushed down the toilet in a Chinese restaurant is going to be replaced by my being flushed down the widening jaws of Riki-Oh.

EMR: I was a little worried that all of the insanity in this movie was too overwhelming, and I just couldn’t bring my A-Game to the table, but the assistant warden saying, “You’ve got a lot of guts, Oscar,” as Oscar pulls his intestines out in an effort to strangle Riki with them has made me feel a lot better about myself. Agonising over the quality of my jokes for this movie is like worrying about whether my girlfriend is satisfied in bed: ultimately, I don’t fucking care.

TEOS: Holy. Shit. The intestines thing. It’s official: this is the most insane thing I’ve ever seen. And one time, I’ve actually seen insanity. (Her name was Michele Bachman.)

One exploded head and several flamboyant goons ejected from beneath the ground later, and I’m embarrassed that I chose to get rid of this DVD when I had it. I am a right fuck. But I think I remember why: this was one of those random films I had sitting on a shelf for years before I actually watched it, and one day I said, "Fuck it - I'm watching Riki-Oh." So I did, and somehow during this freakshow of a film I actually fell asleep (I am perpetually tired), and I would occasionally wake up to hear screaming and see men being torn asunder, and I'm pretty sure the combination of the graphic insanity and my own disorientation of having my sleep interrupted caused me to throw this DVD right in the garbage. Now I'm sad because of that. Meanwhile I still own Jack-O. I don't know what my fucking problem is, sincerely.

EMR: Is that first member of the Gang of Four a guy? He’s the gayest looking one of the bunch, so it’s no wonder he springs up out of the pipes that run underneath the toilets. Wait, there’s only three of them. Is this film stupid or am I stupid? Perhaps we’re both so stupid that we couldn’t successfully navigate our way to the nearest McDonalds without at least one us having to apologise for saying something utterly atrocious during black history month.

TEOS: Thank GOD the flute thing is relevant again. I was worried they wouldn’t follow up on the promise of making Riki a student of the flute.

EMR: What? This leaf that he’s playing? He studied at a prestigious music school for two years, learning how to play a leaf? Yeah, I went to a pretty prestigious architectural design school. I learnt how to shove broken chunks of brick-end into my asshole.

Oh no, there’s the flute. I take it all back.

TEOS: Uh oh. The cat’s out of the bag: those flamboyant villains are growing poppy leaves in the west wing of the prison. Do poppy leaves = poppy seeds, which = poppy opium?

I didn’t think this movie could get more insane, but if we take what we’ve gotten so far and add opium, well Jesus Christ, let’s just do it already.

EMR: If the bigger guy in this gang looks like The Mountain from "Game of Thrones", and the gayer one looks like that gay guy who gayed one time, then the other one looks like a dip-dyed Gilbert Gottfried.

I don’t get this. Riki’s really only assuming that these poppies are being grown for opium and now he’s burned down all these greenhouses that are full of lovely, healthy looking poppies. Does no one grow poppies for anything other than the sole purpose of manufacturing opium, anymore? Really, think about it: how weird is it that every single time you see a poppy field in a movie, you immediately think "opium manufacture"? Do movies about WWI have to run this gauntlet every time? Was the climax to War Horse a hardened, maverick L.A detective setting fire to Flanders Fields and fighting it out with Randall “Tex” Cobb?


You’re watching Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky.

TEOS: I have never, in my life, seen something so goofy also be so fucking mind-blowingly violent. This is almost like Vaudeville, if Vaudeville skits ended with entire faces being flayed off and tongueless flute lessons.

EMR: The last tongueless flute lesson I had was when my dad was really drunk and told me how sexy I was.

TEOS: You should show your dad that and see what he says.

Oh my god - a violent bloody fight among men, set in front of a burning opium field within the heart of a prison. I will never ever ever see anything as manly as this. I always thought Chuck Norris breaking the neck of another man while covered in a lather of cocaine was the manliest thing I’d ever see in cinema. I am so fucking wrong at this moment that I’m tempted to circumvent the rest of my life and somehow start back over as an infant just to give myself the proper time to learn what being a man really is.

EMR: Manly?! What, this?! This fight between Riki and a guy who’s like a scout-master in the shortest of shorts who isn’t afraid to pull on your hair and pinch your soft skin?

“One looks his best before dying” coos this nail boutique waiting room with a haircut.


TEOS: “I’ve hit your Death Spot,” explains Riki’s very...er...dainty looking nemesis who is still managing to kick major ass. “Soon you’ll be a...Dead Man.”

And if you thought Riki was gonna bitch out just because some dude jabbed his Death Spot, you deserve to have your eye knocked out and your head smashed like a Gallagher melon. He gets up and screams “h’yah!” again, but then even more flamboyant nemesises… nemesise… nemesi… more bad guys come out of nowhere and tie up Riki with wire and then they end up in a chute that, I think, is filling with...poop.

Is...that poop?

Are they really in a...poop chute?

OMG, poop chute. That’s rich.

EMR: It’s probably that flamboyant guy’s secret lair. I mean, where else?!

TEOS: It it just me, or does it feel like at every point in this film that we’re about five minutes away from the end? What’s that about?

EMR: I’m not sure I understand the progression of the movie. I feel like I’ve been watching it for six months, and it’s how I imagine it feels to be inside the belly of the Sarlacc. I WANT it to be over, but I’m curious to see how it’s going to end. A little bit like "Lost" or the funeral of a close family member.

TEOS: Well, this film just took a turn. That main warden and his obese son/nephew are quite the characters. I don’t always condone rape, but when I do, it should happen to these two.

EMR: What the actual fuck is going on, now? It’s become the most violent Three Stooges movie you’ve ever seen, and given that this fat cake fuck looks like Larry, Curly, AND Moe, I’m pretty pleased with that analogy.

TEOS: With Kim Jong Un as a zero-hour Shemp cameo.

Man, everyone in this film has a real drinking problem. And if you’ve seen Airplane, you know exactly what I mean. And if you haven’t seen Airplane, then what the fuck else have you ever done that’s better than watching Airplane? Shirley you can’t be serious, you’re a grown man who likes movies about Gladiators and hangs around the gymnasium, and other lines I remember from Airplane.

EMR: Looks like I picked the wrong day to quit sniffing glue out of the ass crack of a sullen, willowy prostitute. Lloyd Bridges says it better than me, but you get the picture.

TEOS: Ohhhh...it was a concrete chute. Not a poop cute.

Well, shit.

EMR: Oh man, think how fucked up it would be to have a cement room. Like, a whole room entirely devoted to a solid block of cement and two dead guys. That’s honestly the weirdest thing I’ve seen in this entire movie and that’s making me feel strange when I consider the things we’ve seen.

TEOS: For real. Like that one time I saw you say, “I’m an unabashed Jay Baruchel fan.”

EMR: Now THAT’S fuckin’ manly. Riki just flexed so hard that the cement on his body just fucking shattered. When Riki flexes, that prison receives telephone calls from women complaining that they’re suddenly 8 months pregnant.

TEOS: The last time I saw someone flex that hard, they shit on the floor and then went right to the hospital.


But really, my attention is drawn to how much of a little fucking sociopath the warden’s son is. This is the kind of kid who’d gladly masturbate to vultures picking the sinew off the bones of a dead orphan.

Ladies and Gentleman, your future Republican candidate for Idaho.

TEOS: I know we’re dealing with entirely different nationalities, but the similarities between this SS-looking Warden and his fat, lesbian-haired son to Kim Jong-il and -un, respectively, cannot be ignored.

EMR: Given that Tarzan came crashing through the wall to an adjoining room, and the hole hasn’t magically fixed itself, watching Riki try to stop himself being crushed to death is the most tensionless scene, I think, in the history of cinema, and I got bored watching Christoph Waltz try to intimidate me with his piggy little eyes in Inglorious Basterds. I fucking hate you, Christoph Waltz. What the hell have you got to look so smug about, you wonky-jawed fuck?

TEOS: Clearly it’s because you’ve never seen Take This Waltz. It probably stars him and Henny Youngman. I’d tell you what it’s about, but you already know.

EMR: While I imagine that, to the warden at least, this dirt bukkake burial is so terribly symbolic, I’m watching two or three guys with sub-machine guns just standing around doing pretty much everything other than filling a non-moving target with enough lead to give the whole pacific rim cancer.

TEOS: The look of restrained fury but ultimately passive resistance on Riki’s face as shovelful after shovelful of dirt rain down across his face is pretty good hyperbole for...well, my entire life.

EMR: Why...why would you kick a dog in half just so you could stuff some chunks of its flesh down Riki’s breathing pipe? That’s like going on a picnic, but letting someone punch you in the dick hard enough to give you an excuse to sit down.

TEOS: As far as comic book movies go, this is still better than Man of Steel.

EMR: Oh, without doubt. Any Superman movie where your cast are embarrassed to say "Superman" can go fuck itself with Russell Crowe's attitude problem. Expect mess.

I think we’re about to see the motivation behind Riki’s actions

Here it comes…

...right, okay, imagine a room. The room is filled with studio executives who are severely developmentally disabled. They’re shouting, they’re screaming, they’re defecating on themselves and each other. Every so often, someone from outside the room screams a noun through a letterbox, like "FIGHTING" or "REVENGE," and the guys inside the room have to come up with a story line which uses these words. Have you done that? Congratulations, you’ve just been recruited onto the Riki-Oh: The Story of Riki writing team!

TEOS: Aka Orci and Kurtzman.

I’m just going to flat-out ask you: how turned on were when this Asian chick in the yellow dress was tossed by someone onto a bed like a rag doll?

The correct answer is: not as turned on as when she threw herself off the roof and turned into a hilarious rubber doll halfway down.

EMR: The funny thing is that I was going to say "not half as turned on as I am baffled by the fact that the one person in this movie who probably deserves to die more than anyone else, aside from the warden's son, is this rapist who Riki somehow restrained himself enough to merely wound." Come on, Riki. That's almost an endorsement.

I’m getting pretty fucking bored of this film being a succession of Riki bondage scenes, and the characters are still asking questions of him which I have long since given up caring about. I’ve seen you punch stuff even Chris Brown would think twice about attacking. What the fuck is wrong with you, Riki?

TEOS: Damn it, I was nearly ready to believe Riki’s next Herculean task was taking on an entire bulldozer. Bummer.

EMR: You know something I've noticed? There's a surprising lack of kung-fu on display, here. And IF there was going to be a reason for me to hate this movie, and it's a strong "if," it'd be that I'm being deprived of drawn-out scenes of athletic prowess and dick punching. All the fights are either Riki somehow being beaten down by "guys" who are happy in the knowledge that numerics aren't their strong point, or him having to be reminded that he's Chinese Hulk by his inner-monologue. YOU'VE JUST PUNCHED A HOLE IN SOMEONE'S THORAX, MAN! PAY ATTENTION!

TEOS: If you’re wondering how many times Riki gets smashed in the face with a 20-lb wrench, I’ll tell you: it was fifteen. Thousand.

EMR: Case in point: these fuckers are constantly chaining him up like they think it'll make a difference, and beating him around the face and neck, and he's just...taking it. The last time I just took it without realising I could, and should, fight back, I was asleep in a tent.

TEOS: Filling Riki’s mouth with razor blades, taping it shut, and then beating him mercilessly in the face, only for Riki to spit those razor blades into this SS guy’s face, directly inspired ALL of Zero Dark Thirty.

I could honestly watch a five-hour film of Riki-Oh: The Story of Riki. My only requirement be that Riki spend that entire running time punching eyes out of rubber faces, or halving heads clearly made of cantaloupe. There’s honestly nothing to hate about this. It’s like someone saw that scene in The Addams Family where Wednesday and Pugsley perform that ridiculously violent school play and said, “Let’s do that...for ninety minutes. And...let’s...go back in time.”

EMR: To be completely honest, I'd welcome the prospect of a Riki-Oh movie that played out exactly like that. I'd want them to make a few adjustments, though. For example, I'd want them to get rid of this troublesome "plot" that's been bogging this movie down for the last 80 minutes.

TEOS: At the rate these prisoners are dismembered by these masochist guards, it’s a wonder there are any left. But that’s the thing about mutilating the Chinese. Fifteen minutes later, you just want to do it again.

EMR: That's the great thing about the Chinese. No matter how many you maim, there are always plenty more.

TEOS: Wait...the assistant warden...blew up like a balloon and then exploded. Do you know why? I was busy relating Chinese mutilation to unfulfilling Chinese food.

EMR: Shark gun. Like the one in Live and Let Die. That's why. Not seeing Yaphet Kotto anywhere, though. Shame.

TEOS: So, Wong Chu looks like the Chinese member of One Direction they take out of the trunk when they’re touring Asia.

EMR: And as the warden transmogrifies into an impotent Mortal Kombat programmer’s idea of what the guy who his wife left him for looks like, he states that, “The warden of any prison has to be the best at Kung-Fu.” Of all the things I’ve learnt from this movie, this has to be the most entertaining, and surprisingly specific, fact of them all.

TEOS: Every time a Chinese dude explodes for no reason, I place another bid on a Riki-Oh blu-ray on eBay.

EMR: Well, I WAS going to go and eat something but fuck me if this movie just put me off for the next 10 or 15 years

TEOS: There’s just no keeping up with this. Reiterating every piece of insanity on display in Riki-Oh is like describing every single solitary hair on Robin Williams. It’s impossible. But from what I understand, the SS-warden got inflated with oven air and turned into the Asian Hulk, so Riki threw him into a meat grinder, showed his decapitated puppet head to the other prisoners, punched a hole the size of Lindsay Lohan’s vagina into the prison wall, and walked the fuck out.

EMR: Hey, what a positive One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest-esque ending full of hope and relief, except I feel like I’VE had a lobotomy and I’VE been suffocated with a pillow. Let’s not forget, though, that every single one of those prisoners Riki’s just set free was in a maximum security penitentiary for what’s likely to be a number of horrifying, and gratuitous reasons. You’re an irresponsible dick, Riki-Oh.

Huh. “Dick”i-Oh.

TEOS: The last time I was this pleased with an Asian boy, I had to register as a sex offender. All in all, Riki-Oh is my new favorite anything.

January 28, 2015


Exploitation Movie Review (EMR): The Beast Must Die is a 1974 offering from Amicus productions, a rival production house to Hammer but without the good movies. This film, one of the studio’s final efforts (the next would be the gloriously insane Vincent Price vehicle Madhouse), took a step away from the usual horror-anthology output for which they had become known and concerns a multi-millionaire’s ‘big-game’ hunt for a werewolf that he suspects is amidst the guests he has invited to his country manor house. In an effort to try something a little different, and all the time cashing in on the burgeoning Blaxploitation genre, this film features a singularly charming gimmick that invites you, the viewer, to “be the detective” and to compile evidence throughout its duration just in time for the “wolf-break” near the end of the movie.

Sounds gay. I’m in.

Hey, do you wanna pretend to be the guys from "True Detective"?

The End of Summer (TEOS): Matthew McComplicatedName wishes he could be as depressing, and Woody Harrelson wishes he could have as much sex with Alexandra Daddario, as me.

EMR: ...ohhh-kay, cool. Well, I’ll be Rust and you can be Marty. That means you can do loads of chicks in the ass and I can drop sweet head-butts on people.

TEOS: Oooh, can I be Michelle Monaghan? Then we can sad-fuck. :D

EMR: What’s...what’s even the right answer to that question?

TEOS: I really like this pre-credits on-screen narration positing a very important question to the audience: “The question is not ‘Who is the murderer?’ but ‘Who is the werewolf?’” Every time there’s a high-profile homicide on the news, I’d like to see CNN or FOX News blare that across their screens. I picture a lot of Americans pensively tapping their lips and saying, “YEAH...who is the werewolf?”

EMR: I agree. I think the musical cue is an important part of that fantasy. It just wouldn't work without Peter Doocy being interrupted by a jarring string section. Still, it’s the kind of comical level of implied menace that I’ve come to expect from FOX News.

TEOS: And every time CNN utilizes it, Wolf Blitzer nervously loosens his tie and ignores everyone looking at him.

EMR: So, this movie starts with what I thought was a sneak peek at race relations during the ‘70s, but it turns out that this black guy actually OWNS this big mansion and he was being chased by helicopters and dudes with guns to test the security systems on the grounds, and not because he was guilty of being black in public.

TEOS: Topical!

EMR: This movie has spent almost ten full minutes on a guy running through the woods, which is, coincidentally (considering we're talking about movies where a proportionate amount of time is spent on the main character doing NOTHING but taking a fucking walk), the amount of time I spent on caring what happened to the characters in The Lord of the Rings.

TEOS: I hear that every time a helicopter chases a black guy through the woods, a werewolf gets its anger.

Fuck me, I’m bored already. The last time I was this uninterested by so much ridiculous exposition, I was at midnight mass.

EMR: It’s as if this movie feels like it needs to take the high ground; by covering all the bases, and leaving the audience unable to vilify it in any way, we’ll be able to see past all the polyester and over-egged performances and focus all of our efforts on revealing just who is the Alsatian in a ruff.

I admire your efforts, Amicus, but you were fucked from the moment you called your film The Beast Must Die.

TEOS: I haven’t seen a black guy so beaten down by life since Obama. He’s like the world’s most abused fish - he keeps trying to steer clear of all the stuffy white guys who want to bring him down, but they snag him anyway, only to let him go so they can do it again.

The Pretension Must Die

EMR: I love movies where I’m introduced to a character who holds a position of power and wealth, but nothing is done to establish how or why it came about, other than the most cursory exposition. This guy is a hunter. He goes after what he wants, whether that’s in the boardroom or while on safari. Fine, you know what? If you really want to be coy about Tom’s job, he’s getting my default “boardroom businessman” role that I always apply in these situations, and that means he works for Duke Brother’s Commodity Brokerage selling pork bellies.

TEOS: I like to think he made his fortune selling bawdy accents. Nic Cage must’ve watched this thing before making Vampire’s Kiss.

So apparently there’s a House on Haunted Hill-type situation going on here, in that Black Guy (I’m sure we’ll get a name soon) has invited all of these people to his isolated country mansion because they all have one thing in common: they’re in debt. (Or “debit,” if you share Tarantino’s geeky sense of humor.)

EMR: (I don’t.)

TEOS: I especially liked this one scene where Black Guy totally verbally castrates one of the guests in front of everyone, so the guest gets all haughty and stutters, “I don’t have to take that kind of talk from you,” to which Black Guy responds: “You just did.”

I literally exclaimed “Oh shit!” at my screen with a mix of awe and pride.

Lastly, can I just say I love the dramatic zoom-ins on each character’s face after Black Guy admits he’s invited them all there for the weekend because he knows one of them is a werewolf?

Oh, finally - Black Guy's name is Tom, BTW.

EMR: Yeah, sorry, I knew that already, but if it makes you feel any better, I totally cheated and asked IMDB. My complete attention was on careful consideration of all this evidence with which we haven’t yet been presented.

Speaking of which, it’s not fucking about anymore. This Agatha Christie-lite bullshit assembly is go-go-go. These HAVE to be the first vital clues. We should take notes.

TEOS: Done.

EMR: Wait, wait, wait a fucking second. Okay, so Tom’s a hunter, a boardroom predator, and probably one mean sous chef or whatever, but it only just struck me right this moment that, with literally zero evidence to back up his claim (other than a few dead bodies, accusations of cannibalism, and probably some jelly dildos falling out of Paul’s suitcase), he’s saying that one of his guests is absolutely, definitively, a werewolf? Based on what?

This is such an affront to rational thought that it might as well be Jenny McCarthy telling me about how her child got autism.

TEOS: I figure it’s because all the prime suspects are white. Am...am I allowed to say that? I’m pretty sure it’s okay for me to say that: that’s what this piece of shit is going for, anyway.

EMR: Y’know, I’ve heard a lot of racial stereotyping in my time and I don’t know where people get off thinking that black guys treat their girlfriends like shit, but Tom threatening to shoot Caroline if she turns out to be the werewolf is probably the most sensitive portrayal of domestic harmony I’ve ever seen.

TEOS: I’m really amused by her admonishing Tom for “completely trying to ruin the weekend.” I’m sorry, but, what kind of preconceived notions did you have about this idea in which your husband invited a bunch of complete, weird, eclectic strangers to spend the weekend? Spending three days with a bunch of stuffy Brits already seems like a horrible time, werewolfism notwithstanding. I mean, Jesus, the weekend was ruined the second Paul's name was written on a Save-the-Date.

“You want lobster? Huh! I’m thinkin’ murderin’.’’

EMR: Tom’s obviously said something that’s put the willies up his guests, because Dumbledore is making a break for it. Oddly enough, the only one who doesn’t seem to have any issue with anything being put up him is Paul.

But, okay, Tom, you’ve redeemed yourself. You are the only person I’ve ever seen who both owns a 4x4 AND uses it for something other than blocking up single-lane traffic while you drop your kids off at school. Kudos. You may now shoot your wife.

TEOS: Holy shit. Tom is King Willie from Predator 2. Did you know that??

EMR: He did seem familiar, and I have to admit that I again IMDB'd this guy to confirm my suspicions, but it's taken me a little by surprise. If you read up on this dude, he actually had something like a respectable career in front of him before he ended up in this movie chewing the fucking scenery like some kind of Langolier who didn't have time to grab lunch earlier in the day.

TEOS: Huh. So the black guy in the white Bronco is going after the very guilty looking white guy who is attempting to flee. How profound.

That’s the first O.J. reference during this commentary. I hope there are more.

EMR: Well, if Tom does end up shooting his wife and getting away with it, and then they make a sequel where he has to burglarize a hotel room but gets caught doing THAT...

They could call it The Beast Must Have Sports Memorabilia.

That's two.

TEOS: Ah, how quaint: it’s the group’s first “one of you is a werewolf and I’m going to fucking hunt you down and kill you” dinner. I hope one of them brought a knife to cut all that tension.

EMR: This is probably a good point to write down a few more notes. Also, to practice drawing pictures of dicks. I’ll take this one.

TEOS: Nice dicks, dude.

Oh, great: leave it to fucking Professor Science to explain that pretty much all any man or woman needs to be a werewolf is lymph nodes. I had no idea it was that easy. Am...I a werewolf?

EMR: I don’t know, but speaking of crazy science, Nate Mendell from the Foo Fighters genuinely believes that there’s no scientific evidence to link HIV and AIDS. So, err...I’ll just let you chew on that for a while.

TEOS: My favorite Foo Fighters song is

EMR: I also don’t think there’s any scientific link between Peter Cushing’s accent and actual, real-life German people.

TEOS: God, also leave it to Professor Science to act all scholarly as he explains what makes a werewolf a werewolf. More body hair? Bloodlust? We fucking know this, okay? We’ve ALL seen Arizona Werewolf.

Haha, wait, this is just now dawning on me: his name is Dr. Lundgren. D. Lundgren. And now you know my next joke.

EMR: Is it something about how Wolfsbane doesn’t grow in the U.K and how Tom has gone for a walk out by the greenhouses on his estate and I immediately assume he’s growing weed in there and not Wolfsbane? Is that a joke? Is that funny, huh? IS RACISM FUNNY TO YOU?!

TEOS: That’s not the first Dolph Lundgren joke you’ve cock-blocked, and sadly it won’t be the last.

"I'm also growing baneenees."

TEOS: Oh, damn. It’s a full moon tonight. Shit’s about to get real.

Caroline is right to be pissed about Tom ruining dinner with his accusatory behavior and his weird inverted gray sideburns. Perhaps there’s a way Tom can be more amenable and pleasant about this whole thing while continuing to maintain that he’s definitely going to violently destroy one or more of his guests before the weekend is over.

EMR: I think this whole film is an advertisement for if you have friends and loved ones who have the flimsiest grasp on reality. Tom’s got even less evidence to go on than the fucking audience. All he’s got is an unbelievably supportive wife who isn’t really getting that pissed at his wild fantasies and threats, millions of dollars to throw at pressure pads and Shure microphones, and the kind of paranoia Tony Montana could only achieve if he head butted Columbia's gross annual export of cocaine.

TEOS: I’m amused that Dr. Lundgren watched everyone pass around a silver candlestick, which in theory was supposed to trigger the identity of the werewolf among them, but then later on explained a bevy of reasons why that was never going to work.

You know, Lundgren - that fucking sequence went on for nine years. You could have saved us SO much time…

Say, what’s a black guy gotta do to take a leisurely stroll around his sprawling estate without having axes and pitchforks thrown at him? I mean, for real?

EMR: This movie should be called Tom Needs to Get This Place Health & Safety Checked Fuckin’-A Stat.

TEOS: I’m just gonna flat-out admit that whenever Davina is on-screen, I stop paying attention to pretty much anything other than her cleavage. It’s not even that her endowment is overly impressive, but there’s something going on there that little TEOS likes…

EMR: I’m sure it’s nothing but Stockholm Syndrome. But with tits. I wouldn’t like this to turn into an ongoing problem because I’m pretty sure we’ve got other shit lined up to review with, like, ZERO slash prospects.

TEOS: We’ll need to gather up some Jim Wynorski, ASAP.

EMR: Two of the guests have gone missing and Tom’s suddenly surprised that more of his guests are reacting to being held captive in an isolated mansion somewhat unfavourably. Don’t worry, Tom: I’m sure the oppressively loud clunking of your surveillance monitor will bring them back to find out what all the fucking noise is about.

Since we’ve worked out that it’s Davina and Jan who went missing, we’re being given even less of an insight into Tom’s background than ever before by way of his eavesdropping on the pair taking a walk through the garden. More retarded than this is Jan’s statement that the innocuous howling we can hear in the background is probably “restless dogs.”

Buddy, I’ve lived with four separate dogs in my lifetime and none of them reacted to a full moon with nothing more than a fart and a backyard shit. And even then, that was a coincidence.

"Hey, Pavel...see anything you like?"

TEOS: You know, considering the black angle taken with this film, and the way Tom watches all of his esteemed white guests through his ridiculously thorough surveillance system, it would be tempting to think that really, Tom, despite his wealth and success, is watching them with a certain disdain - an almost kind of awe-inspired fury, and maybe even resentment. He’s achieved their wealth and their fame, but he’ll never be one of them, will he? He’ll never be taken seriously by them or their white colleagues; to them, HE’S the one who will always be the one hiding beneath this facade of a rich man, trying to cloak the animal for which everyone else sees him.

EMR: Hey, did you see that one dick I drew in the notepad? I think I'm getting pretty good at making the veins look angry.

TEOS: I’ve always said you had a gift.

Hey, is this monstrosity going to have some lame Tales from the Crypt-like ending where it’s revealed they’re all werewolves?

EMR: I have no answer to this. Maybe it’s like that other famous werewolf movie. The one John Landis directed. You know, the one where that guy dies in a helicopter crash because the stunt goes wrong?

...shit, hang on.

TEOS: Aw, that's fucked up. RIP, John Landis.

Did you notice how flustered Tom got and how quickly he left the room once Mr. Foote started undressing?

Yeah, I bet you did, you freak. You’re a real naughty boy, aren’t you, buddy?

EMR: Paul DID start smiling to himself as his shirt was coming off, though. Bear in mind he’s in a room by himself. Unless he’s planning on violating a jar of Smucker’s he’s somehow managed to smuggle into the house in his asshole, he’s just smiling like a maniac for no reason.

Which, actually, makes me think: Tom’s invited all of these guys to his isolated mansion on the understanding that one of them is DEFINITELY a werewolf. Has it not occured to anyone else in that house that they are all 100% surrounded by actual murderers? I’d feel safer sending my son into the maximum security wing of Coalinga State Hospital with a sign that read “Free Hugs and NyQuil.”

TEOS: Looks like Beast is taking a page out of the book of Alien, even though this thing came out two years before (yo, way to rip off Beast, Alien), because Tom is now out in the wild hunting for the werewolf while Pavel watches shit go down on his wall of screens and tells him via walkie talkie where to go.

EMR: Well, doesn’t Tom look a fuckin’ daisy in his patent leather jacket and no t-shirt? I think this scene with Pavel and Tom is easily the most hilarious of the movie, so far. They’re cooped up, at Tom’s instructions, in the secret monitoring room of the mansion and shooting furtive glances at one another like they’re on the world’s worst blind date. There’s nothing quite like awkward conversation with your boss when all you really have in common is his bloodlust for mythical creatures and your paycheque.

“So...how about them Yankees, huh?”

TEOS: Yo, Tom is losing his SHIT. But I guess it must be somewhat of a debilitating feeling knowing that you’ve spent millions of dollars to create an anti-werewolf compound and the dude you’ve hired to be in charge of surveillance doesn’t even fucking believe in werewolves.

EMR: For real. This guy's worse at his surveillance job than the security staff at Logan International Airport.

For all those millions he’s spent on this surveillance system, it’s pretty fucking stupid that all of the pressure pad lights come on at the same time. Is that indicative of the limitations of 1970s technology? Or is it simply that Tom should start looking for the guest who covers the largest surface area?

The question isn’t, “Who is the murderer?” but rather, “Who is the fattest bastard?”

TEOS: Hrm, the werewolf has removed Pavel’s eyes from his skull and his life from Planet Earth. Think he believes now?

EMR: Pavel may not believe in werewolves, but I sure do believe in the incompetence of filmmakers. I just don’t think anyone quite knew how to direct an actor when it came to “looking surprised as the alsatian in the ruff jumps past you.”

Okay, right, Tom’s made no mention of his secret surveillance room up until this point. He now has the dead body of a security “professional” tucked away in the aforementioned secret room under the stairs. Do you think the emotional intensity of the next few days would preclude him from remembering that Pavel’s eyeless corpse will be just...sitting there? Getting all oozy? I guess I’m only asking because I REALLY want this to turn into Weekend at Bernie’s.

TEOS: So not only are these people invited for a weekend getaway under extremely false pretenses, but how exactly is one supposed to respond when your host tells you he’s driven everyone’s car into the river as a means of isolating them there? And he says, “Oh, I’ll have them replaced” as if that makes everything better.

EMR: The same way anyone reacts when a black guy on a power trip tells you he’s done something you can’t change: you sacrifice a single mother’s baby at the altar of Newt Gingrich and pray to the dark lords that the Republicans win the next election.

TEOS: Oh, Jesus - the candlestick game again. Shit’s getting old, Tom. Real fast.

EMR: I hope they’ve had it cleaned since the previous evening. Paul kinda licked the candlestick a bit, and I’m no doctor or anything, but I’m pretty sure Denzel Washington had all of those cigars destroyed after Tom Hanks touched them in Philadelphia.

TEOS: Considering Pavel is dead, everyone’s been kidnapped and had their cars driven into the river, and that Tom and Caroline are slowly losing their mind, all of these guests seem remarkably non-plussed. I mean, I got pissed off earlier because Netflix said The Boxtrolls had a “very long wait,” but these motherfuckers are puffing on pipes and milling about like they’re on intermission from Barry Lyndon.

EMR: It's because they're British, dude.

"I say, would you mind terribly not bandying around accusations of cannibalism and lycanthropy?! Good Lord!"

TEOS: It’s true. Even though you people say cunt all the time, you’re all way too polite. If a bunch of Americans had been the ones taken, they’d either be finding ways to sue and/or spin it into a reality show, or lie about how much rape they’ve undergone.

EMR: Tell you what, I’d fucking love to see this whole thing play out on an episode of "Judge Judy."

"I haven't watched so many boring white people since Inside Llewyn Davis."

TEOS: Okay, so, I guess fuck this movie? Because I’m pretty sure the vicious dogfight they just showed wasn’t “movie magic.” I know European filmmakers were allowed to get away with that kind of shit, but now I’m just upset. Fuck you, The Beast Must Die.

Sure, Tom. Go ahead and blow your dog’s head off. After all, he only saved your fucking life by fighting the wolf. You’re a dick.

EMR: Tom could, in all feasibility, just mount his dog's head on the wall, backed with a cheerleader's pom-pom, and underpin it with a crude cardboard sign that reads “WareWulf.” And, given that this is demonstrative of the effort put into the visual effects on this movie, I wouldn't begrudge him, nor indeed anyone else, for being satisfied with that.

I’d also like to point out the inherent silliness in this entire sequence. Aside from the aforementioned “dog fight” we’ve just witnessed, I’m struggling to work out how Tom ever hits anything smaller than an entire city block with weaponry clearly designed to hit things that are only marginally smaller than an entire continent. It seemed to take him five minutes to hit a helicopter sitting no more than 30ft away, and then a further five to completely miss the large, non-moving target of an alsatian/faceless goon altercation.

“I tried to save him!” exclaims Tom to the dismayed Dr. Lundgren.

By doing what? Firing wildly into the air like Keanu Reeves in fucking Point Break?

TEOS: Wow, rest in pieces, Bennington. I hated you.

I think at this point it’s safe to say that Tom has gone so fucking crazy he might as well just shoot everyone with silver bullets, wolf-like mannerisms notwithstanding. I mean, he’d solve his problem. Then he could sell off all his crazy anti-werewolf mechanics, drive all those cars around at the bottom of the river, and we could all finally get some fucking sleep.

EMR: What’s funny here is that Tom is going to great lengths to convince everyone that it’d be a bad idea to try and explain Bennington’s death AND his pilot’s death as the work of a werewolf, and now Caroline is pleading with him to acknowledge the severity of not one, but TWO deaths at the house.

Looks like I was right: he’s completely forgotten about Pavel. Maybe those cadaverous hijinks I so yearn for are a bonus feature on the DVD.

But I think you were right before. There just has to be a way that Tom could have invited everyone to his country estate for a weekend without having to threaten them every five minutes. If you’ve already spent a few million on getting your place decked out with state-of-the-art security and a little Russian guy whom you’re feeding nothing but scorn and Krack-a-Wheat, you can afford to put on a pretense for the guests. This guy’s so paranoid you could lock him and Richard Nixon in a room together, and after a few days they’d have written The Domino Principle on tinfoil using their own feces.

TEOS: You know, werewolves are so hairy that their vaginas must be, like, crazy--

 EMR: Shut the FUCK up, man. It’s time for the Werewolf Break™.

TEOS: Mm, yes, thank you, Werewolf Break™. Thanks for interrupting all the mounting unbearable tension (haha) to philosophize on the utterly mysterious identity of the werewolf (haha). 

While a part of me finds this break extremely charming, especially with the narrator asking the audience if they’ve yet to finger the beast (yo, I done did that shit already - in high school), at the same time, man, the idea of it seems pretty fucking derivative. Hasn’t this whole film’s existence been predicated on the idea of trying to figure out who the fucking werewolf is? Did we really need some haughty narrator to intervene and provide us with a Cliffsnotes version of everything we've seen so far? We may be watching this bullshit on purpose, but we’re not mortally retarded. This is like eating half a sandwich and then having the waiter come by to remind us what’s going to be in the second half. Like, I already know, buddy - all the same shit from the first half. That’s the point of a sandwich. Consistency. 

EMR: Okay, yo. Here’s who I think did it:

EMR: Who's your guess?

TEOS: Normally I would call you a total racist, but considering this is a Blaxploitation pic that has exactly two black people in its cast, I don't think your approach is...not racist. That's as close as I'll get to touching that.

Anyway, this is my official Wolf Guess™...

TEOS: Bonus points if you screamed that in Gary Oldman's voice.

Wait, now you shut the fuck up, Davina’s talking. Mmm….

EMR: Davina tentatively putting a silver bullet in her mouth to prove she’s not the werewolf has added an unexpected and previously absent air of erotica to this movie.

Yeah, you like the feel of the steel between your lips, don’t you?

Shit. Tom and Caroline’s relationship is going to be hanging in fucking tatters when this is all through. The Beast Must Die has temporarily transmogrified into a Roman Polanski picture. Except there’s no underage sex happening.


TEOS: Oh my, Caroline was the werewolf. Her reveal and subsequent demise were rather anticlimactic, so I’m still sticking with my lame Tales from the Crypt ending. Plus there’s still ten minutes to go in this fucker, and with the “werewolf” dead, what the hell else is there to do? Watch people wax philosophic about the racial divide as it pertains to lycanthropy? No thanks. I either turn this shit off and look at all those racy tumblrs I have bookmarked, or you make with Werewolf # 2 (through 5?), movie - stat.

While we wait for the next reveal, I have to mention: Perhaps the biggest mystery presented here - more than “Who is the werewolf?” - is “A lot of people have reverence for this film: why?”

I honestly don’t know, and frankly I’m starting to feel a lot like the black kid from Peanuts: outnumbered and a little pissed off.

EMR: Oh. This is embarrassing.

TEOS: Dude, seriously? I haven't been this embarrassed for someone since that stupid congressman who believed what he read on The Onion.

EMR: So...Caroline’s the second werewolf? And Paul’s had his asshole torn apart by a rough trick (I honestly believed that’s how he’d have wanted to go) throat torn out...who’s the first one, then?

Oh, it’s Jan. Okay. That’s not entirely surprising. The main culprits were “one of the black ones” and “the guy who tried to run away at the start.”

Still, I care more for the reveal here than I did in any of the Saw movies. AND I’m more aroused.

Bonus. (Boners.)

TEOS: Yo, with Jan in Doggie Heaven, does this mean Davina’s single? I’d show her my bone, and do her doggie-style, if you know what I mean. (I’m talking about intercourse.) (Sexual intercourse.) (With Davina.)

EMR: I wanted to say before, when Lundgren gave Davina a love tap back in the sitting room, it’s got to be awkward when you slap a woman to calm her down, and she carries on losing her shit. Lundgren, you’ve gone from being constructive to a woman beater in the space of 0.03 seconds.

That’s got to be some kind of world record. I should know. I’ve been trying to get my time down for years.

TEOS: The film ends with a prominent black man committing career suicide by making a foolish choice with a gun.

Oh shit, O.J. reference # 3!

EMR: I guess no one will find Pavel's body now. That's really going to bother me.

It's the end, all right. Of Amicus.

December 23, 2014


Exploitation Movie Review (EMR): Merry Christmas, Quippers! (I’m gonna call you all Quippers from now on, you fucking disgusting label whores.) This month’s offering is a dreadful little piece of shit which hilariously brief research tells me was filmed, scored, and released. The only thing you need to know is that this fucking turd clocks in at just over an hour and a half while Corman’s The Fall of the House of Usher clocks in only at an hour and a quarter. But hey, if there were any justice in the world, O.J. wouldn’t be sitting in jail right now.

This film starts as it means to go on: by looking and sounding like an episode of “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” - with added witchcraft, woman-beating and Nazi paraphernalia, but heavily reduced levels of Gary.

The End of Summer (TEOS): Try as hard as you want to be ominous and foreboding, you stupid movie, but everything you establish in your pretty lame opening credit sequence is completely overcome by the word ELVES popping up on screen, and in a font that I’m pretty sure is Times New Roman.

Speaking of laughing at incompetence:

TEOS: C’mon...NO ONE caught that?

Elves opens with a gaggle of teen girls hauling ass out to the middle of the woods where they’re about to spread a blanket, bitch about Christmas, and perhaps do some light kissing. Man, have these girls been reading my dream journal?

EMR: Haha, these crazy bitches. I was going to mention that this hanging-out-in-the-woods-and-hating-on-Christmas deal doesn’t seem like a healthy or regular activity for teenage girls, but then I got a look at the lead girl, Kirsten (pronounced Keehr-stin), and she looks like Bibi Besch and the mom from Harry & The Hendersons used a semen applicator shaped like Bret Michaels’ fist to smash dumpster jizz into each other out of spite. Man, she looks fucking old. I’m glad I didn’t start getting laid until the early 2000s when 15-year-old girls at least LOOKED like 13-year-old-girls.

TEOS: Speaking of sexy things, I admit: the minute these three teenage girls knelt down and spread out a blanket, I thought sex was about to happen. Has pornography poisoned my mind, or has my lack of a sex life turned me into a pervert?

You decide.

EMR: I don’t know, man. These three look old enough to be moms, and the only three moms I’m interested in seeing fucking each other are Ellen Griswold, Beverly Sutphin, and Missy Logan (with an honourable mention for Peggy Bundy. She can be, like, watching or something.).

Jumping Jesus, is this how teenage girls talk? Like this? One of them mentioned a guy called “Dave,” who I’m assuming she wants to bang. If Dave’s got any sense, he’ll pretend the start of this movie is a documentary about the Jersey Devil, beat this bitch to death with a shin bone, and eat her hands and teeth so the county medical examiner can’t identify the body.

Oh, Kirsten’s just mentioned “the Master Race.” Bit of subtle foreshadowing, there. It’s like this film is the school and Damon Lindelof was the student.

TEOS: You know, as someone who is actually a little anti-Christmas, I don’t appreciate the feature film Elves suggesting that this stance makes me tantamount to a bunch of air-head white supremacists who are so mentally vapid that they’ve brought a blanket all the way into the woods but chose to sit directly on the fucking ground. Because I’m anti-Christmas I’m also an anti-Semite and a bigot? What the fuck, I love Larry David AND I downloaded the N.W.A. this week!

EMR: Have I really got to be the one who points out the crude, fan-fic, Staedtler Noris Club Jumbo pencil drawing of the “anti-Christmas nymph”? There are tits RIGHT ON SHOW HERE, MAN! PENCIL TITS! Jesus, if they wanted to remake this movie for a modern audience, all they’d have to add would be hentai tentacles and some pixellated dicks.

TEOS: It’s a pretty good drawing, to be fair. Here’s hoping someone locks it in the safe on a majestic cruise ship doomed to sail into a giant metaphor so Bill Paxton can find it a hundred years later while having hilarious frosted N’Sync hair.

"I want you to draw me like one of your nightmares."

EMR: “Hey, the candle!” … Hey, the candle what? I’m no scientist nerd-loser or anything, but I’m pretty sure that if you light a candle, the very action of the wick burning is pretty much what it’s supposed to do, so why is this dumb fucking broad acting like it’s just turned into 1:100 scale diorama of ... losing his mind and feeding Chili dogs into ... asshole? (I’m coming back to this - it’s late and I can’t think of anything funny.)

TEOS: Are you losing your mind already? We’re barely out of the credits.

EMR: Whatever, man. Y'know, for all my ragging of Lindelof, I sure know how to make people fill in the blanks that I can't be bothered with.

Like I say: whatever. It's very zeitgeist. I am the zeitgeist. I believe that with every fibre of my being.

Oh, great. Now Kirsten’s cut her hand. You fucking idiots. You’d better hope this doesn’t give life to an old, Nazi experiment to build a master race of elves.

TEOS: Boy, this sure fizzled real fast. A snuffed candle and a cut finger is enough to halt their ritual? Talk about dedication, girls. Instead, maybe you’d better get to the mall, grab a hot dinner from Sbarros, and then throw it all up in the bathroom of Things Remembered.

But no, instead they go home clutching their school books like a bunch of Marys.

Keer-stin - this is her, right? - totes got caught slipping an old book back onto a shelf, and for her troubles, her face meets her grandfather’s hand a couple times.

Oh my god, do you hear how Jewish this old wheelchair-bound grandfather is? I laughed at the slaps, and I laughed again at the bad fake Jew voice.

EMR: I can never hear the sound of a Jewish voice over the sound of all the change in their pockets.

Gramps is looking to wash that gash...on Kirsten’s hand. Kirsten just says that she’ll do it, but in such a way as to make it seem like she’s used to Grandpa coming onto her in this way.

“Ah, Kirsten, I see zhat you have a split...on your lip. Here, let Grandpa kizz it better.”

“Oh Grampa!”

*whimsical music/ the sound of children’s screams and clowns masturbating*

"There's...something outside, and it wants to talk to us about Jesus."

TEOS: Holy crap. Keer-stin’s icy cunt of a mother doesn’t think trespassing into her grandfather’s room is punishable with just two slaps. She’s going to close down Keer-stin's savings account and keep the money. What a fuckhead. I barely know this woman, but I want her instantly dead.

Also, did you laugh when Keer-stin’s mother confronted her about going in Grampa's room and Keerstin rolled her eyes and responded, “He’s already slapped me twice.” Because I did. I want to know if anyone else is amused by the image of an old man slapping a teenage girl.

EMR: Closing down a Jewish girl’s savings account is like telling… 
Hi, EMR here. One half of the blogging duo Two Guys, One Quip. You’ve probably heard of us from "Gorbachev’s Laugh-nost." We’ve had a lot of yucks this year, and some of them have actually been you laughing WITH us. Since it’s Christmas, we wanted to give you, the reader, the opportunity to take part in one of our reviews. As you can see above, I’ve just started on the path to a really quite offensive racial slur. One which could very easily see me sharing a steel sprung bunk bed, up in county, with a guy called "Maria." To save me getting blasted in the ass so hard that every time I shit, Leonard Peltier cries, I’m offering you the opportunity to “fill in the blank,” as it were, with the racial slur of your choice. Closing date for entries is January 12th and you can submit your slur in the comments section, below this article. Thanks for listening, enjoy the rest of the review.
But seriously, closing down this girl’s savings account is a terrible thing to do. How the hell is she supposed to pay to have Grandpa’s kids aborted, now?

TEOS: Okay, this is not the first film I’ve seen in which a little brother purposely spies on his big sister in the shower. That’s...really unsettling.


Keer-stin calls him a pervert, and he goes on to say ALL this:

I’m not a pervert! I like seeing naked girls! And you’ve got fucking big tits, and I’m gonna tell everyone I saw them! Fuck you, Mom says she’s giving me all your money, so fuck you!
I’m not really sure how or why, but this scene ends with the siblings play-wrestling on the bed, not at all incensed with each other.

This movie is already so insane and seedy and ridiculous that after Charles Band saw it, he sued out of spite, his grounds for charges being he “would have eventually thought of something like this.”

EMR: Did you see that kid’s sweet Donatello PJs? The way he was talking, I’d have expected him to be more of a Michelangelo fan. Huh. You learn something new every day.

Oh, I’m also adopting that part of the script as my family motto because it pretty much says everything I believe in, ever. Here’s what it looks like, in Latin, after I ran it through a Google translator, and put it in a fancy font:

EMR: I don’t know about you, but I think that looks pretty fucking sophisticated.

TEOS: I’d put it on my wedding invitations. If only anyone would have me….

Also, I couldn’t resist. I translated it BACK into English:

I'm not a pervert! It helps, it helps to see the elbows. And you've got a great fucking tits, and seemed to take pleasure in their praise of all men? I'll bugger you, he says, gives all the money, it was given to me, so cheap!
EMR: So, Kirsten’s having a pretty bad day, all things considered, and the only friend she has left (by her own admission, not mine. Personally, I think she’s being fucking churlish, because those other two broads she was in the forest with weren’t exactly pushing her around and calling her out on her triple thick maxi-pads or whatever, so she HAS friends) is her cat. So, while she’s tucked away in bed like Mary Ellen Walton, the Nazi Elf who’s been resurrected by her bleeding paw-paw is making his way into the house via the basement. At least I think it’s the basement. To be honest, this film’s so fucking dark and misleading, I may as well be watching AvP: Requiem

TEOS: Ha! So Keer-stin is standing in the Santa line with her assholes Amy and Brooke so they can “goof on Santa,” which is something she’d been “waiting for all day.” You know, Keer-stin is definitely attractive by late-‘80s standards, and based on what she "waits for all day," there’s also something clearly the matter with her, so I’d like to think even someone of my limited social life in high school could’ve definitely banged her.

EMR: It’s sad to think that in the days before Internet porn and randomly hooking up with strangers online, whom you’ve managed to convince you play middle linebacker for the Oakland Raiders (but you’ve spent the entire season on the bench because the coach is an asshole), this was the only tang on offer.

*sigh* Well, it’s either one of these three or Molly Ringwald, I guess.

What the fuck was that exchange between the bear from The Great Outdoors and the gayest department store clerk this side of a San Francisco J.C. Penney’s? Man, the sheer sincerity to that guy’s performance actually made me a little sad. I’m almost going to be disappointed when the Elf shows up to ruin an otherwise pretty watchable Merchant Ivory Christmas movie.

David Strathairn meets George Lucas; remains unimpressed.

TEOS: Did you catch Santa telling that little boy about Nintendos being on sale in the mall basement? Forget Charles Band - I think it’s Victor Salva who’d be suing.

EMR: More concerned that the kid was having a stroke before he replied. Santa likes the boys who fit. They’re paralysed, but they’re still moving around just enough for it to seem like a struggle.

Wait, I think he’s telling every kid that what they want is in the basement. Now all I’m seeing is a damp, stone-wall basement. A solitary lightbulb swings gently under the draft from the rusted air shaft. It illuminates a sad and neglected room, which houses nothing but an old, wire-sprung mattress, its surface stained with rust and dried mucilage.

The children...they know nothing of the horrors that await them.

TEOS: Um, dude-

EMR: Santa slowly descends the rotting staircase into the basement, holding a battered Philips tape deck. A song stutters from the twisted speaker housing, distorted and weak from overuse; it is “I Know What Boys Like” by The Waitresses. The door closes behind him. Nothing now but the damp, and the solitary lightbulb that gently swings under the draft from the rusted air shaft.

“Merry Christmas…” hisses Santa “Do you like hotdogs…?”

“I FEeL nO piTy!!!!!!!” *more hissing*

TEOS: Jesus Christ, dude.

Welp, “goofing on Santa” sure blew up in Keer-stin’s face, in the sense that Santa wanted his Johnson to do the same. “Santa said oral” is my new favorite thing that Santa has ever said.

 Santa's a funny guy, I like him. I hope the Elf kills him...last.

EMR: I’m now starting to see what you mean about Kirsten being '80s hot. At first I was intrigued by her over-sized Guns n’ Roses t-shirt that she sleeps in, and now that I’ve seen her in a deli waitress outfit...I’ll take her down to Paradise City where the grass is green and Sybok releases you from your pain.

Do you think we’ll ever make enough money from doing these reviews to be able to get me the professional help I so desperately need?

TEOS: Once we earn enough taco money, I’m buying us tacos. Then we can worry about whatever mental ailments that haunt you.

So, cunt mother just put Keer-stin's cat into a pillowcase and drowned it in the toilet. Part of me is horrified, but the other part of me still forced to watch this film is envious of that dead wet pussy.

EMR: Dude!

That’s gross...

TEOS: Ouch, that killer elf cut off the pervert Santa’s ball sac? That’s almost as brutal as that time a killer elf cut off my ball sac.

EMR: Hmm, I’m no veteran of being stabbed in the particulars, but I really don’t see it as being that much of a deal. I mean, yeah, sure, it’d hurt like shit, but I’d like to think that it’d feel a little like standing on a tack. Yeah, you could argue that I’ve got no idea how biology works but, honestly, fuck you. I certainly have a better idea than this movie does, because this asshole has been stabbed in the dick, but he’s fallen to the floor and he’s bleeding from his mouth. Even if I claimed that every time I jerked off to screwing Kirsten in her Guns n’ Roses t-shirt and knee-high deli waitress socks, I shot, fucking... blue powder from the tip of my penis, I’d STILL have a better grasp on how biology works than this piece of shit movie.

TEOS: Wow, Keer-stin has had quite a day. She’s groped by a pervert Santa who is later found dead, then goes home to where her cunt mother has drowned her cat and buried it in the backyard. There’s a joke in there somewhere, but in reality, I just feel really bad for her.

Well, that passed. Maybe her spirits will lift by walking into her room to see that her little brother is sniffing her underwear drawer and she’ll be filled with the rejuvenating feeling of knowing at least she’s of use to someone out there, even if it’s in the secretion of vagina scent.

EMR: She’s also being treated as a prime suspect in the brutal Santa-castration-mouth-blood murder. Man, she’s so damaged…

I’ll dance with her Mr. Brownstone.


TEOS: After having trouble sleeping, Kirsten hears her stupid cat scratching at the bedroom window, and after shouting his stupidly complicated name (“Agamemnon!” which no one in their right mind would ever name a pet), she springs from her bed to see what is the matter; at her window in a flash, she tears open the shutters, throws up the sash, and sees a stupid monster cat puppet.

I’d describe what the monster cat actually looks like, but this film is darker than Bill Duke’s brow.

EMR: I know, right? Bill Duke’s come-to-bed-eyes imply a menace Bill Cosby can only dream of.

TEOS: After the occurrence, Kirsten’s icy mother wants to know what it was that caused the whole house to awake from screaming.

“It was a troll,” Kristen says, as if it’s the most plausible thing on planet Earth. Obviously no one believes her except her grandfather, who demands to know more about it. “It was a ninja gremlin,” she says, I think jokingly, but now it’s too late: I’m thinking about how much better this film would be if the threat were a ninja gremlin.

EMR: Gramps seems to know something’s awry in the woods and makes mention of it to Kirsten’s mom, who dismisses his concerns as the ramblings of a wheelchair-bound, teutonic crack-pot with a creepy study and chakra crystals. We’ve all got one of those in the family.

I’m a little pissed that we’re not getting to see the picture he’s just shown to Kirsten. My mind immediately went to the Anti-Christmas Nymph from earlier, but an exchange of dialogue between the two of them pretty much confirms he’s talking about the Elf.

So, that means the pencil drawing of the “Anti-Christmas Nymph” is actually “Grandpa’s Jack-off Material.”


TEOS: It would appear that this random, old, bearded, beaten-down, John Carl Buechler-looking prick is the new Santa. I guess that’s appropriate. Only now he’s in the backroom wiping baby piss off his pant leg and muttering, and man, I have to tell you, one of my biggest cinema pet peeves is when a character talks to himself for no reason other than to provide necessary exposition to the audience, and even though that’s going on right now, I have to take a step back, do my breathing exercises, and remember that this film is about Nazi elf rapists and I should really just relax.

Plus, we learned a lot about him!

“I’m not a detective anymore. I’ve not even a store detective. I’m Santa. All I have to do is take care of my reindeer.”
Weird soliloquy aside, if he's under the impression that’s all Santa’s responsible for - "taking care of reindeer" - there’s going to be millions of hilariously disappointed children on Christmas morning.

EMR: I love this guy. Like, actually love how earnest he is in his performance. He’s seriously elevating this shit. I think he was brought on board to detract from how suicidally bad this movie is. I wish he’d tell me a story about an old tree or something. He’s like Yaphet Koto in Truck Turner, except this movie has neither asked, nor answered, the question: “How would you feel if Nichelle Nichols dropped the 'Hailing Frequencies open’ schtick and said things like ‘They’d better learn to sell pussy in Iceland because if I ever see them again, I’m gonna cut their fuckin’ throats’?”

Gunnar Hansen has breakfast.

TEOS: It’s taken me 25 minutes, but I’ve finally noticed that the grandfather is a dead ringer for William Forsythe, right down to the awful voice, and the sense that even after 37 showers, this guy would still smell like a pile of assholes at the very bottom of the hamper.

EMR: I always think that about Tom Sizemore. Except that’s probably true.

So, who the fuck are these guys? The Nazi Elf Illuminati? I say that in jest, but I’d join the shit out of that cult if it were real.

TEOS: Jesus Christ, did that just fucking happen? Did those words just touch my ear drums? “When there is no more room in hell, the elves will walk the earth?”

Fuck you. I know it was my idea to watch this one for Christmas, but still: fuck you, man.

God. Fuck you.

Sorry. (Fucker.)

EMR: I’m going to chalk this sudden display of negative emotion to the red kryptonite that Grandpa’s been fucking about with for no discernible reason.

The Nazi Elf Illuminati are dropping some serious hints as to the direction in which this is going. I guess this is the part where Damon Lindelof lost interest, left to get something to eat, and ended up having a 40-minute discussion with the kid behind the counter at McDonalds about what he thought the food order would be.

TEOS: Sad Santa, despite his monologue about not being a detective anymore, has decided to detect, so he goes to the library and retrieves a book on mysticism. “In section 666,” the old librarian tells him, and when he responds, “C’mon, that has to be a joke,” she says NOTHING.

What a weirdo.

He flips around this book until he lands on a page that seems to contain both a Nazi symbol AND what could possibly be dinosaurs, so, for the second time while watching this film, I’m immediately envisioning a far better film about something entirely different.

Stop making me disappear inside my own imagination, Elves.

Nazi Dinosaurs: The Movie (dir. Timur Bekmambetov)

EMR: So, the girls have broken back into the department store where Kirsten works and there’s a hilarious comedy-of-errors thing going on with the piece of tape that was left on the edge of the back door to stop it from locking. Kirsten’s worried about “the guys” not being able to join her and the other girls, while Grizzly Adams is about to jimmy the door of its frame with a piece of scrap metal he finds by a dumpster. All the time this is going on, Kirsten’s friends are taking the tape off the door and Kirsten’s having to replace it…

I’ve got to hand it to you, Elves: I thought the only mirth I was going to extrapolate from this movie was the dialogue and the down-syndrome Jim Henson Muppet that’s passing for an elf, but you’ve shown me that I don’t always have to watch “Frasier” to get my yuck fix.

TEOS: I...honestly can’t tell if this thing is being retarded on purpose.

A sample of dialogue, if you will:

(wearing lingerie)
Hey Brook, check this out!

What kind of slut dive-suit is that? No...way.


No way!


I said “no way!”


TEOS: I can’t believe this is how teenage girls are purported to talk and I can’t believe how hard I am right now.

EMR: Amy looks like my absolute nightmare in this scene: chicks with small tits and bad faces who want to dress up in Emma Frost Cosplay.

That’s not even a joke. I really fucking hate it.

Her mutant power is slut-dropping.

TEOS: Here’s a fun “guess we shoulda corrected that” error - pains are made to establish that both Sad Santa and these three morons have sneaked into the mall after hours, both for different reasons, but that the one doesn’t know the other is there. Then, Sad Santa peers over the railing at them, mutters to himself, and while he’s walking away, it cuts back to the point of view of the three morons putting on make-up, with him in the background, walking away with very loud, sharp footsteps...and none of the girls “hear” any of it.

EMR: So while the girls are putting on make-up and looking like they’re wearing the kind of clothes the Goodwill store would put in a garbage bag and set on fire in the centre of a salt pentagram, this dynamic exchange happens;

I’ve got a new name for us, by the way:
Masters Without Slaves.

(Laughs sheepishly)

You don’t get it, do you?


EMR: Guess what, Kirsten: I don’t fucking get it either.

TEOS: This is a straaaange fucking film.

EMR: Strange because Brook thinks that Grizzly Adams being at the department store after-hours at the same time as them constitutes a “Mexican Stand-off,” or strange because when the girls are talking, they’re making less sense than your average cheese dream about a lactating nipple tree that fires geese at 12th Century Ottoman knights?


Because this film is about killer elves controlled by Nazis. Stupid idiot.

Oh, thank god - the bawdy boyfriends have arrived. Now the film can only get better.

EMR: They’re talking about banging Brook and how the other girls are just nasty or weird or whatever. I’d be offended at the disgusting display of chauvinism if I didn’t agree with them 100%.

TEOS: Okay, we’re forty minutes in and the elf quotient has been severely diminutive. What the fuck - this slather of diarrhea is called ELVES, so where are they?

Is it too late to watch something else? I feel like this film had a killer concept and is totally blowing it. But I also feel like I have to see this piece of shit through to the end to find out if the Nazis can save Christmas (which is my understanding of the plot). Fuck me, I haven’t been this conflicted since the time I watched Sixteen Candles and was reasonably certain I didn’t want to fuck Jake Ryan.

EMR: Have you ever noticed that while we’re watching these and pausing them every so often to insult them (something I like to apply to all walks of my life), you feel like you’ve been watching them for most of your life? Just like when I played too much Resident Evil 4 and thought, whilst walking to catch a bus, regular birds’ nests had coins and other such valuables in them, I keep watching other movies and wondering when Nazis are going to show up and blow Amy’s head off.

TEOS: I THINK Nazis just showed up, and I THINK they just blew Amy’s head off.

EMR: Oh. Okay.

TEOS: For once, the Nazis have done something to benefit us all.

EMR: All things considered, I'd rather them have blown off Brook's head, if only to release the tortured souls of all the My Little Pony's trapped inside.

TEOS: Whoa, first Nazis show up, and THEN the elves make an appearance? That can’t be a coincidence. Finally we’re getting somewhere. Now all we need is a bit more Nazi-ism, Indiana Jones, some John Williams music, a complete lack of everything else in Elves, and finally, for this film to be The Last Crusade, and then I’ll feel like paying attention.

EMR: Sadly, it’s a little bit more like Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, except more watchable.

That was predictable. I’m sorry.

TEOS: My turn. Shia Labeouf is a lot like the elf, only he’s the one getting raped.

Tonight’s Special Guest Star: Clint Howard!

TEOS: A Nazi just got into a shooting match with Santa, and while trying to shoot him, shot a Christmas tree instead. I can’t tell if this film is smart OR brilliant.

EMR: Santa’s ducking the shots and he’s behind a counter with Kier-stin while the Nazis shoot fuck into that tree. This looks like the abandoned factory shootout in Total Recall.

Ha! “Get Yule ass to Mars!”

TEOS: Nice! I hear that’s the plan!

Holy shit, Goebbels has made better films than this. Yeah, I know how that sounds. For being about Nazis AND elves, this film is neither stupid nor awesome enough.

EMR: It IS, however, eligible to stand trial at Nuremberg.

More dialogue gems, this time while Sad Santa and Kirsten are being shot at by Nazis:

Jesus Christ. Are these the guys you’ve been waiting for?


Okay, you see those stairs over there…

EMR: I’m all for dialogue being the bridge between audience and rich, fully realised characters, but these lines are just too uncomfortable for me. This whole thing just feels so...so real.

TEOS: Man, first Amy gets killed by Nazis, and then Brook gets done in by the elf. What next, something ridiculous?

EMR: Oh, man! Not Brook! Me and three other guys were going to run a train on her later!

Huh! I’ve just done research on that expression and it turns out that it’s not technically a train unless there are 7 or more guys. So, me and those other three guys makes four guys, then we’ve got Santa and, I guess, Grandpa. Do...do you wanna get in on this?

TEOS: No, thank you. But I will beat off to it.

EMR: As a side note, that entire sequence, from when Brook starts getting chased by the Elf, to finally being murdered by the elf, is 100% THE stupidest fucking thing I have ever seen. It’s difficult to work out what exactly was the tipping point from “incompetent” to “disabled.”

TEOS: You know, you’re right about Sad Santa. He really is the only one in this film giving a damn. He’s treating this like he’s reciting works by the bard at Bell’s British Theatre.

EMR: All I want to see is the Sad Santa/Patrick Stewart performance of “Othello.”

Who goes “black face”?

You decide!

TEOS: Looks like both Sad Santa and Kirsten have lost their jobs due to this whole thing involving elves and dead teenage whores.

In a post-firing heart-to-heart, Kristen laments that her parents won’t care about her elf woes. “I care,” says Sad Santa. Then he adds: “Why not call me Mike?”

She responds, “I think I’d rather just call you Santa.”

Ouch. Mike wasn't just shut down, he was taken down so many pegs he has to look up to see ground. Sorry, buddy - there’s always suicide.

EMR: The first and only guy in existence to ever be “Santa-Zoned.”

Props, bro. I get dem feelz.

Kill me.

TEOS: I...think we just saw an elf force a sleeping girl to finger him in the mouth. Did you see that, too? And who the fuck was that doing the fingering? There were only three girl characters in this thing and two of them have already met their maker. What the fuck?

EMR: I think it was Brook, man. The only thing you need to worry about is that the elf has taken your place in The Train Gang.

Guess now we know what's in the Colonel's secret recipe.

TEOS: It’s off to the university for Mike Sad Santa, where he meets with a professor who knows an awful lot about elves. Apparently the origin of elves date back to the time of Noah’s Ark, where God’s order of saving all the animals and “all the creeping things” includes - you guessed it - elves. Sad Santa looks as surprised about this as I feel annoyed. But then the professor says the word “Nazis,” so now I care about stuff again.

EMR: I think all that stuff about “hard men, bad women, and the secret occult history of the United States transportation system” was just Nic Pizzolatto blowing smoke up everyone’s ass. THIS is what Season 2 of “True Detective” is really going to be about.

Actually, bad jokes aside, who the FUCK does this broad who’s just bumped into Mike think she is? Man, this film is messing with me. I’m not scared of the Elves or the Nazis. I don’t feel tense. I just feel really, really bad for Mike, and I hope that this Christmas, you’ll open your door for him if he should come knocking looking for a cup of coffee or a used cigarette end.

And this professor at the university is seriously creepy. He looks like Gerard Way didn’t lose the baby weight after fucking Nathan Lane and giving birth to Philip Seymour Hoffman. Plus a lesbian.

TEOS: So far, I’ve learned one thing from Elves: films about murderous elves can be pretty dull.

EMR: Yeah, as usual, I’ve pretty much given up. It’s a strange dichotomy: wanting to spend our valuable time and energy on this raw sewage, but wanting to do normal things like meeting people, or playing racquetball, or talking about “America’s Got Talent” like I care about the contestants. It’s just like my Mom never said to me: “Son, you don’t want to be living with dichotomies in your life,” and she’d have been right, had she ever said that. No one says things like that. Especially not my Mom.

TEOS: Oh, SHIT. Elves just went fucking Chinatown all over the establishment. No wonder Kirsten’s mother is a total bitch-hole: turns out Kirsten’s grandfather is ALSO her father! Surprise aside, I’m also confused, as it doesn’t look like Kristen and her family live anywhere remotely near Kentucky.

EMR: Why do you keep picking films with incest in them? What the hell is wrong with you? Why have I been finding my sister so attractive, recently?

TEOS: I am so in love with this doctor’s breakdown of the two potential histories of Elf Nazism that I can’t stand it. Theory one: elves - perfect soldiers - were used by Nazis as assassins because they can hide in small places and eat very little. Or, theory two: Nazi scientists worked to create an elf/human hybrid, which I guess IS the master race. That already sounds like a downgrade from just a regular human. They’d be shorter, more prone to blow away during a storm, probably a lot more annoying...but there WOULD be an uptick of magic.

Hmm...I guess I can see Hitler’s point.

In order for that to happen, well, this has to happen:

“The elf mates with the perfect virgin on Christmas Eve to produce the master race.”

Holy. Shit.

We finally have the life story of Peter Dinklage.

EMR: I’m pretty sure Sir Lawrence Olivier skipped over this during The World at War. And you know what? I’m pissed about that.

TEOS: "Fucking gross." That’s what hearing grandpa describe the process in which he fucked his own daughter makes me think: "fucking fucking fucking gross."

Although that adds another layer to this whole thing, and also makes me feel only slightly stupid: turns out grandpa’s a kraut, not a Jew. The only reason I don’t feel completely stupid is because this actor is really shitty.

With this new revelation, I guess this means he’s a former Nazi! I still feel a little embarrassed that I thought he was Jewish. Did you pick up on that when he spoke?

EMR: No man, I can never hear what a German is saying over the sound of him marching into Poland.

TEOS: Haha, oh man. The gods are going to take away our Internet card for that one.

Okay look: I confess. Right around the time that Sad Santa found the fucking dynamite in his car, I let the video keep playing while I went to refill my drink, take a leak, have a really awkward encounter with a fellow employee who asked me if I’d ever gotten shots to prevent shingles, then went back to my video to see some intense strobe-lighting and Sad Santa saying, “We gotta get out of here - the elf’s here.”

I missed so much, and at the same time, absolutely nothing.

"Heh heh, I can't WAIT to blow all these guys."

EMR: The only thing you really missed was Kirsten’s Cunt Mom running a bath for herself, but putting lipstick on before stepping into the tub. She thinks she’s so fucking high and mighty, but what kind of an imbecile puts lipstick on JUST before they get in the bath? The last time I saw a movie where a woman did that, I was filming it.

You also missed Sad Santa punching one of the Nazis so hard that his teeth turned into tooth paste. No wonder he was thrown off the force.

TEOS: I take it back. EVERYONE in this film is taking it way too seriously, not just Sad Santa. I think the only people who knew this thing was actually a comedy was the audience.

EMR:  No, man, no; this is deadly serious. If Kirsten is the product of unholy union between Tom Sizemore and Helen Mirren menopause, who the fuck is the father of Kirsten’s brother? He’s a creepy little son of a bitch, too, because he’s just told Sad Santa not to break the torch that he’s handed to him. Why the fuck would he say something like that to a stranger?

TEOS: Haha, ohhhh….I was wrong. According to Nazi math, elf + human ≠ elfman. Elf + human = the antichrist. How come YOU didn’t know that?

EMR: DON’T make me cry at Christmas. You still haven’t forgiven me for Zombie Lake back in June, have you?

There’s something about Grandpa’s explanation that makes it so...matter of fact. It’s not just Nazi Elves, it’s the anti-christ.

Shit, okay. If you say so.

For whatever reason, Grandpa’s pulled open the book that has the anti-Christmas Nymph in it and now he’s drawing swastika’s on her tits like there was a pattern there that we never saw before. You’re literally just drawing swastikas on her tits, man. You’re not Frank Miller. You’re a crazy old asshole in a wheel-chair who fucked his own daughter to bring about the end of days…

Actually, that's Frank Miller.

TEOS: I swear, there’s only been "twenty minutes" left in the running time for what’s felt like the last twelve days of Christmas.

EMR: Maybe when this is done, me and you can do something for Twelfth Night. It's a Pagan thing, so it's completely acceptable for me to pack your asshole with Jif and call you Grand Master Meatspurt.

TEOS: aka Tuesday.

“What is that, a stone?” Sad Santa asks while looking at...a stone.

“It’s an elf stone!” replies crabby grandpa.

You know, let’s all agree that everything in Elves world should just be preceded by the word “elf” now, okay? Things will go a lot faster.

“Wanna order some elf pizza?”  “Hold the elf anchovies!”  “I hope they send that hot elf delivery kid!”  “I think I need to have an elf abortion.”

I could keep going, but this is a terrible joke.

EMR: This fucking doesn't deserve better jokes. We're giving it Bill Hicks when all it really deserves is Denis Leary.

TEOS: Why do these old Nazis keep professing their love to Kirsten? And why does this one Nazi in the trench-coat, when he says “Calm down! Calm down!” sound exactly like Arnold Schwarzenegger? Why isn’t Arnold Schwarzenegger IN something like this when he’s already done Jingle All the Way to us? Why aren't we just watching Arnold Schwarzenegger right now?

Hey, who are you?

EMR: Watching him in his hey-day or watching him slowly losing his mind on social media? Hey, you know what I'm calling the new Terminator movie? Terminator: Genital Cyst.

TEOS: Do you think when the director was shooting this piece of shit, he said, “I don’t want the audience to see a fucking thing"?

EMR: Only if the audience's psychic torment wasn't the only way he could sustain an erection long enough to fuck his wife, yes.

TEOS: I think Kirsten just said, “I can feel the elf inside me.” Dear god, I am so hard right now.

EMR: That's replaced "Avengers Assemble!" as my ejaculation cry, from now on. Now all I need is a girlfriend...

TEOS: Shit, someone sent me a video of some dude being run over by a subway train and I missed the whole ending to Elves. What happened?

EMR: Was it the subway train bomb scene from Die Hard With a Vengeance? Because, let me tell you, that film IS the bomb. I often think, and we've spoken about this before, that if Fox must insist on making new Die Hard movies, give the next one to McTiernan. Bring the franchise home, y'know? As fans and appreciators of that man's work, we need to get the bad taste of Rollerball out of our mouths. Everyone always goes on about the law of diminishing returns; DHWAV, in my opinion, holds its own against the original. And the original is the best Christmas movie ever made. You know what? I'm gonna go and put those movies on right now. Are we done here? Has this film finished?

TEOS: It must be. I'm watching Exit Wounds now. Yeah, with Seagal.

EMR: Merry Christmas, I guess.