Posted on October 9th, 2008 in A Horror A Day, Brick Prior, Movies by Brick Prior

Here we are, face to face… again.  I’m sorry I punched you last time, but I told you to quit making that joke about me shitting my pants when I didn’t shit my pants.  I’m a grown ass man that still has some of his “bowelecular faculties”- I don’t shit my pants. 

I’ve seen a guy shit his pants before, though.

Let me tell you about it.

One night, on the thirty third day of the year, when the moon was only visible for three quarters of the night, I stood on the veranda, sipping my drink and thinking about world peace.  A couple was arguing across the way.  The man was flustered.  His face scrunched up, and suddenly the  woman frowned and held her nose.

Then man then screamed, “OH MY GOD, I SHIT MY PANTS!”

Like I said, I’ve never done that.

…brain’s still gone.  On with the show! 

TODAY’S FILM: Death Walks On High Heels

Ahh, giallo- a genre that involves just as much surrealism as it does bloodletting.  For me, the grue involved in in various giallo films takes a huge backseat to the cinematography, because let’s face it- subtitles or not, I still don’t know what’s being said. 

That’s right, the subtitles could be a lie.

They could be calling me and others like me a rampant douche for the complete runtime of the film.

I got the glasses that Roddy Piper gave me.  I know this world is trying to trick me!

Yep, still broken.  Let’s move on!



NOTE:  I spoil everything.  All the time. 

Did you take a look at that trailer? I’ll give you a few minutes if you didn’t.  Ready?  Okay- this film is a mishmash of a lot of things, giallo elements (the killer wearing black gloves, for example), jet-setting swinger aspects reminiscent of the Sixties’ heyday that we all hear about again and again (movies like this make you think that if you had money back in the day, the world was your personal bottomless bowl of ass soup… of course that wasn’t the case, but hey- one can dream), and at the end, it becomes one hell of a murder mystery.

Nothing like shockingly having the main character turn up dead on a boat with half an hour left to go in the film.

But how did we get there?

Rochard, one hell of a thief, is murdered on a train by a black clad man with piercing blue eyes for some diamonds.  The killer thinks that Rochard’s daughter Nicole has the diamonds, but that’s not the case, as she’s too busy lathering herself up in a fake tan and slapping on an afro wig to shake her moneymaker as a stripper extraordinaire.

SIDE NOTE:  If I ever meet a stripper that put an afro wig on and slathered herself in fake tanning lotion or whatever the hell that orange gunk is in an attempt to titillate and be sexy, I’d light a Bible on fire right in front of her to show her exactly HOW SOME THINGS ARE TOO GODDAMNED FUCKED UP TO BE DOING.

So, Nicole starts getting stalked by the killer, and flips out on her boyfriend because she finds a set of blue contact lenses in his bathroom.  So, like any smart, reasonable person, she runs off with Dr. Matthews, who was pretty much stalking her at the strip club.  He takes her to his secluded place, and they’re all in love and stuff- which, in these times, involves eating fish in low lit places.

No metaphor there.

The big date is them feeding each other fish.

Again, no metaphor.


I’m not joking.

They’re consuming food, not re-enacting Dr. Hill playing motorboat down south.

Trust me.

But, Nicole’s still harassed by the killer, and eventually winds up on a boat suffering from a case of severe lack of life.  Dr. Matthews is all distraught, but he gets shot by someone who’s wearing Nicole’s clothes!  What the hell is going on here?

Well, there are red herrings galore and the boyfriend shows back up to figure out what the hell happened to his lady.  Toss in some cross dressing from one of the more obsessed town locals, and it’s one to remember.

At least until I turn my eyes toward Dario Argento’s Three Mothers trilogy.

Hoo boy.  Long month.


Well, I might as well be honest- this is a fun movie for a diversion, but the fact that the main character gets whacked doesn’t help any matters considering the fact that movie just limps towards the conclusion without her. 

And what’s up with all the goddamned judo chopping?  I hate kitchsy police detectives.

If you’re interested in the giallo sub-genre, then I suggest this film as opposed to diving into one of Edwige Fenech’s films right off the bat or settling in with an Argento flick.  It’d make for  a neat two hours in front of the TV… just don’t eat any fish.

Trust me.

Eating fish is not sexy, America.


House on Haunted Hill… THE REMAKE!

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Brick Prior
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Day 2!
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I'm happy that you enjoy it!  Here is Day 3!
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This is awesome.  This is making me want to bust out some old zombie movies and take a mental health day.  Maybe next week!

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