Saul Bass directs Michael Murphy, Nigel Davenport and Lynne Frederick in this cerebral sci-fi chiller where ants become the dominant species.

If stark imagery is your thing then you may get more out of this than I managed. For the first 15 minutes we hear narrated excerpts of reports over footage of solar flares, ant hives and desert landscapes – it feels like the iconic graphic designer’s only ever movie is going to be some alienating visual tone poem. It never truly settles into a homogeneous rhythm even after this mode is thankfully abandoned and you would struggle to eke out any entertainment from it but the visual horror is often powerful. Close ups of insects ominously swarming and devouring each other alive, scientists unleashing primary coloured pesticides on them plus collateral damage American farmers, while pulsating geometric wounds abound. Like I say this is never a romp and then it ends on a confusing note. The original deleted ending is bootlegged on YouTube and watching it makes the whole slog slightly more worthwhile. We get a revealing Escher / Dali inspired montage of humanity being subjugated then assimilated by our new insect overlords. At least I think that is what happens, it is open to interpretation. Either way the trimmed off finale resembles the stargate sequence in 2001: A Space Odyssey, which proves a telling comparison that at least justifies the aims and intention of this disturbing cold fish of a flick.

4

Jim Clark directs Bambi Woods, Robert Kerman and Christie Ford in this legendary porn film following a group of cheerleaders trying to make some fast cash by doing a variety of odd jobs.

One of those films that everyone has heard of but nobody has seen, I took a punt on this blast from the past. It is cheaply daft to the extreme with all the girls eager and naive while all the men are middle aged creeps who somehow still get their way. To be honest the improvised enthusiasm put into the set ups (carwashing, tennis changing rooms, candle shop threesomes, library spankings) for each sex session gives this a sleazy charm not dissimilar to an American Pie spin off or a Robin Askwith flick… Though some late in the day dialogue revealing that all the female characters are supposedly sixteen and all the girls agreeing not to cross any lines for money but then all eventually doing so really jars with the “innocent” fun. As for the sex itself, it is hardcore but with some very strange emphasis. There are a disturbing amount of shots of tongues flicking and popping out to eternally lick, to the point where you might never want to ever see a tongue again after 90 minutes. Also coyly fleeting shots of nudity but then almost neverending shots of genitals going at it from unappealing angles featuring maximum butt. The finishes are revealing too, as most of the performers’ faces have unguarded flashes of “Well that wasn’t as bad as I though it was going to be” as their individual sequences reach their climaxes. The pleasingly cliched soundtrack, the excessive bad hair and the appealingly natural bodies of the performers (no plastic surgery or diet ravaged hardships for these kids) make this feel a bit less harmful and bit more cheesily accessible than its dead eye, streamlined modern equivalents. If you go into it with an open mind it can be a decent time waster and a pleasurable museum piece though I doubt anyone is going to get the horn from it anymore.

5

S. Craig Zahler directs Kurt Russell, Matthew Fox and Richard Jenkins in this faithful western following a rescue party heading into the wilds.

135 minutes fly by in no time, in this impeccably judged Western. The language, look and tone are spot on even when it lurches in the finale into some of the most shocking body horror I have ever seen in a film, mainstream or independent. The villainous lost tribe of cannibals when revealed are not just brutal in their attacks but scuttle quickly at you and have a distinctly creative look that is part Preadator, part ash covered 9/11 survivors. They are the stuff of your new nightmares. And the White Hats who have to face off against them are a beautifully drawn bunch with Russell, Fox, Patrick Wilson, Lili Simmons and particularly Jenkins getting many affecting moments of light and dark to make you truly care for them. More faithful yet hardcore trips like this down the trail by Zahler would be quite the tonic for the dusty but beloved genre.

8

 

Anthony Waller directs Tom Everett-Scott, Julie Delpy and and Julie Bowen in this belated and dodgily related sequel to the comedy horror masterpiece. 

It was a disappointment in 1997 and time has been even crueller to this misjudged cash-in. The CGI werewolves are dreadful, the cast of Pepsi Max Extreme bozos grating, the humour all over the shop but never finding the aisle that sells Laughs. You feel sorry for Delpy and Everett-Scott as their natural charisma gets lost in the choppy edit. The biggest casualty of this misfire though is Anthony Waller who brings all the impressive camera swoops and gothic mastery from his eye catching debut (Mute Witness – worth tracking down) to this very flat and uncertain retread. His attempt to add some visual vim to the flailing plot and unlikeable characters is a textbook case of a turd being desperately polished.

2