Empty "Canyons"

Paul Schrader's "The Canyons" (written by Bret Easton Ellis) is a tedious piece of crap about bored decadent Hollywood people of marginal talent and interest.

Blah blah blah...

A self-portrait, in other words.

It has some nekkidity, but some of it involved Lindsay Lohan, who really needs to get her act together.

It also has a real life Porn Star, James Deen. He talks too much.

As does everybody in this clunker.

...blah blah blah blah...

You can't make an exploitation film, or even a daring, boundary-pushing flick, and bore the crap out of the audience.

A Fast-Forward Special -- to the dogpile scene, which is icky.

...blah blah blah blah oh let's get nekkid blah blah blah blah.

Zero coils. A complete waste of time.

Dead Snow 2: Red vs. Dead — Now With Improved Glop-O-Rama

You won't believe how the Nazi zombies gassed up the tank.

Not content with the undoubted triumph of 2010's "Dead Snow," Tommy Wirkola has made a sequel. "Dead Snow 2: Red vs. Dead."

This title is a little misleading, because the "red" refers to some Red Army soldier-zombies who are just as dead as the Nazi zombies.

However, we are dealing with a generation that thinks the Berlin Wall was an album by some old guys called Pink Floyd. So we must make allowances.

If you recall, in the first flick Martin and his dopey friends went to cabin way the hell out in the woods in Norway and accidentally woke up Nazi commander Herzog and his zombie battalion.

In that one, everybody died, including Martin's girlfriend Sara, who is now called Hanna, but is still dead.

But what we didn't know is that Martin got away, but somehow wound up with Herzog's arm in his SUV.

So when the EMTs found him, they brought along the arm, and the kindly doctor reattached it — to Martin, who had cut his own arm off with a chain saw when he was bitten and infected.

Got that?

Well, this arm is capable of all sorts of stuff, including superhuman strength and resurrections.

Martin finds he can do all kinds of neat stuff with his Nazi zombie arm

Now, your Nazi zombies are complex creatures, and rarely do they have a simple agenda.

So Martin thinks they might be satisfied by getting their stupid treasure back, but he is sorely mistaken.

No, they have to finish their original mission, which was to destroy a little town called Tvnkj or something.

There is a whole lot of plot here, and to boil it down a bit, what we wind up with are four teams: the Nazi zombie team, led by Herzog; the Red Army team, led by some big tall zombie; Martin's team, which consists of Martin, the gay guy from the museum, and three nitwits from the US who call themselves The Zombie Squad; and the police, who are only there for comic relief.

Zombie Squad geek poses for photo with his first confirmed kill

The film is in English, which makes it slightly easier to be confused but lacks the Ingmar Bergman atmosphere that made the original so deep and profound.

However, it expands on the original's highly creative use of intestines. I have never seen an intestine used as a gasoline siphon before, and neither have you,  I'll bet.

Wirkola breaks the Glop-O-Meter on this one. Heads, feet, guts, arms all roll. Explosions. Nifty hatchet work. Intestine as garrote, siphon, electrical wire. Necrophilia (implied). Pet zombie. Bad running joke about the language of seagulls. Norwegian cops with Irish accents. No nekkidity (automatic one-coil deduction). Very confusing.

Three coils.

"Big Tit Zombie" Hits New Exciting Lows (with bonus French phrases)

Takao Nakano's 2010 "Big Tit Zombie" is an unusually stupid and tasteless film and as such zooms to the top of the CACA charts.

It stars Japanese porn queen Sora Aoi, aka Aoi Sora, aka Aoi Sola, and aka a few other names that are all remarkably similar.

She doesn't have especially big tits, either, but le tout ensemble is quite attractive. Especially when wielding a chain saw.

The plot, such as it is, has five strippers working in an unsuccessful club that just happens to be connected by underground passage to a dank dungeon with Cabbage Patch dolls and a well. Oh, and there is a Book of the Dead.

Naturally one of the strippers reads from the Book of the Dead. It is de rigueur in these situations. Otherwise the movie would just be called "Big Tit," or possibly "Big Tits," and where would you be?

Zombies emerge from the well, and hilarity ensues.

What sets this one apart from, say, "Zombie Ass: Toilet of the Dead" are the sushi scenes (once with sushi, once with entrails).

And where "Zombie Ass" had unusual things erupting from the butt-type area, "Big Tit Zombie" has a fiery...

Uhh.

I can't say it. The area from which the fire explodes is, uh...

Adjacent! That's it. The fire comes from a region of a lady actor's personal body that is adjacent to the butt-type area of the personal b.

The film is also very meta, which can mean anything. In this case it means that the subtitles rarely match the dubbed dialogue, which creates an ever-changing dialectic and existential tension that calls into question the very nature of cinema itself.

(Ha! Top that, dog-ass New York Times!)

It also means the director is shouting things at the actors, and you can see the wires on the tentacle things.

Four breasts (each set twice). Chain saw splitting of zombie, twice. Book of the Dead. Gibberish Latin that's not even Latin. (It's not even close.) Mt. Fuji as subject of subtextual jokes. Amusing zombies. And that fire thing.

Four coils, unreservedly, and a nomination for the next Iron Coil award.

"Siren" Blows

"Siren" aka "Erotic Siren" is a shot on video, released on video erotic horror film that is neither erotic nor particularly horrifying.

A gang of five guys, dressed unconvincingly as women, knocks off a bank and gets away with a big sack of cash. They drive up to an abandoned house to wait for a confederate to take them to a boat. Then they're going to sail somewhere.

But dang. There's a semi-fresh girl messing around by the side of the road, so for no apparent reason they stop, she sees the money and guns, and so now they have to bring her along.

Oh yeah, she came out of the ocean, nekkid, in the first scene of the flick.

Tedious "Treasure of the Sierra Madre" thieves falling out stuff ensues, except in this case they are all looking to cut themselves a slice of the siren girl.

Bottom line, she kills them all, but they die happy.

The same two breasts, repeatedly. Psycho gangster shit, in Japanese. Incredibly bad suits (looks like they knocked over a Men's Wearhouse, not a bank). Artsy sex shots, decidedly non-erotic.

Starring Japanese porno star Aoi Sola, if that does anything for you.

Phooey. One coil.

The Genius of Thom Christopher; or How to Be Bald and Evil While Wearing a Ladies' Turban

I have now rewatched "Deathstalker," "Deathstalker II," and the imaginatively titled "Deathstalker III."

And while number one has a certain flair in the evil wizard with the face tats; and number two has the unforgettable Monique Gabrielle in two roles that both require extensive breastal exposure, plus John La Zar (as the sorcerer) using up all his little riffs that got cut from "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls"...

Number three is superior.

Why?

Because of Thom Christopher as the evil wizard Troxartes.

You probably know Thom from "Law and Order" reruns. He usually plays a New York jerk of some kind - boardroom jerk, attorney jerk, ordinary bald schmendrick-type jerk.

Thom's got damn good teeth, and they really get a workout in "Deathstalker III." Rarely has so much scenery been chewed by one actor.

He gives us demonic "I shall rule the world while clad in a fleece blanket from Target" laughter. He sashays through what the discerning critics of Mystery Science Theater rightly called the worst swordfight in cinema history. (The longest, too, according to Joe Bob Briggs' post-screening assessment for The Movie Channel.)

But most of all, Thom's Troxartes channels Gloria Swanson.




Now is that eerie or what?

The costume department was on the ball in this flick. The head henchman does his thing wearing a helmet clearly inspired by the cover of Cher's 1978 album "Take Me Home."




So while John Allen Nelson does not bring the same insouciant charm to the title role as D2's John Terlesky, and Carla Herd does not get nearly as nekkid as Monique, in Thom Christopher's Troxartes we have the stuff of greatness.

Three and a half coils, if I can find them.

Selfie-referential

"My Name is Bruce" is an extremely silly comedy horror flick from 2007 starring Bruce Campbell as himself. He is picked by a fan to help combat an Ancient Evil. Very mild hilarity ensues. No nekkidity. Self-referential, in the same sense that taking a picture of yourself making a stupid face and sending it to all your moron "friends" is self-referential.

It's a harmless and forgettable way to kill 86 minutes.

Mildly amusing, it gets two coils.

Ferlin Husky Sings!

The best way to describe Ferlin Husky singing the theme to "Swamp Girl" is to let you hear it for yourself.

Magnificent, isn't it?

And you get a whole movie too!

Nat, who is black, lives in the swamp with Janine, the Swamp Girl, who is young, blonde, pretty —and pretty nimble in a boat.

Swamp Girl thinks Nat is her Paw, until circumstances force him to tell her the truth, which is that he saved her from the drunken white-slaving abortionist Doc.

So now he's just Nat.

Meanwhile the local goobers are searching for the Swamp Girl, plus the sheriff, plus the Swamp Ranger, who is Ferlin Husky.

And a Bonnie and Clyde couple decide to cross the swamp on foot, which is not a good idea.

Alligator death. Snake death — twice. No, three times. (Snakes are cheaper than gators.) Air boat. Magic dress on Swamp Girl, that never gets wet or dirty. No nekkidity (automatic one-coil deduction). Brutal speech by mother of Convict Girl, to wrap up loose ends of plot. Convincing demonstration of why loafers are not the right footgear for swamps.

And, of course, the dulcet tones of Ferlin Husky singing the theme song and playing the guitar.

Two and a half coils.

Seersucker vs. Bloodsuckers — Carl Kolchak, the Night Stalker

Some years back, in one of those trances that Amazon.com induces, I bought the box set of Kolchak: The Night Stalker DVDs.

It wasn't expensive, and has proved to be a good investment. They sit on the shelf next to other worthy efforts, such as the Aztec Mummy and Coffin Joe flicks, "The Wire," and all the "Avengers" episodes with Diana Rigg.

I watch these things about every other year.

Kolchak wears the same seersucker sack suit and battered hat throughout — usually with white tennis shoes.

If he takes notes it's on pieces of scrap paper. His reporter's kit includes a portable cassette recorder and an Instamatic, which never fails to produce blurry, useless photos of the Monster du Jour.

I can sympathize with his editor, Tony Vincenzo. He sends Kolchak to interview a transcendental meditation guru, and instead gets an urban vampire story. Both useful contributions, but hardly interchangeable.

Like "The X-Files," much of the series is shot in the dark — probably because the budget for convincing monster makeup was tight.

It's all very silly, and very much a product of its time (1974-5). There are go-go dancers and hippies. Wide lapels. Kolchak calls fellow reporter Ron Updyke "Uptight."

Gratuitous manual typewriters. Hot plates for the coffee. Convertible yellow Mustang, with manual transmission. Knit ties. Buttondown collars. Ghouls. Every character actor known to man, ca. 1974.

Fabulous stuff. A series-wide four coils, and an Iron Coil nomination.

Terror Goes on Vacation

Rene Cardonas III's Vacation of Terror (1989) is the film that answers the question "Should We Go to the Country House We Just Inherited, the One Where the Witch Was Burned in Black and White?"

Uncle Fernando, who eats weird food, inherits a country house from his aunt, and packs the whole gang — twin boys, daughter Gaby, pregnant wife, and niece Paulina — into the car to go check it out. It's pretty much a ruin, but the kids like it.

But darn the luck — Gaby falls into the well where the evil witch's doll was stashed 100 years earlier.

See, the flick begins with a black and white flashback of some infuriated yokels burning a witch. And instead of burning all her stuff while they're at it, they stick it all in a well, which as you might guess is just asking for trouble.

You'll find this lax attitude toward destroying evil in these decadent, post-modern times. They got Anthony Weiner, all right, but did they go after his creator, Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.)? Nooo.

So the doll starts rolling her eyes and things start going awry – snakes in the fridge, miscarriages, you name it.

Meanwhile Julio, Paulina's boyfriend, comes down in his old pickup. He has cleverly tied to the mirror another relic of the witch burning, a hunk of crystal that glows in the presence of evil, and of course they don't get wise to the usefulness of the gizmo until it's almost too late.

Directed by Rene Cardona III, the grandson of the immortal Rene Cardona (Doctor of Doom, The Wrestling Women vs. The Aztec Mummy), and lacking in the latter's sense of the absurd. I wonder if the opening flashback is an outtake from one of Grandpa's flicks.

We're talking flying crockery as part of a larger pattern of poltergeistitation. Acid-washed jeans on Julio, which makes this a true horror film. Big 80s hair on Paulina. Strongly implied miscarriage. Ham on a plate. Exceptional screaming. Bad driving. No nekkidity (automatic one coil deduction), and a 3.7 (of a possible 5) on the fast-forward button.

Not enough terror, in other words, and no compensating gratuitous nudity. In Spanish with subtitles. One coil.

You Bet Your Zombie Ass

Noburo Iguchi's Zombie Ass: Toilet of the Dead is not, strictly speaking, about toilets. There is an outhouse in the film, and it has dead people in it, but it's really incidental to the plot, which almost never gets in the way of the story.

Arisa Nakamura plays Megumi, a nice Japanese schoolgirl who knows some kung fu and is heartbroken over the suicide of her sister. She's with two girls and a dorky guy, plus a skeezy weirdo, and they are going camping, in the best, time-honored, "Stupid People in the Woods" manner.

One of the gals wants to eat a parasitic worm so she can be skinny and become a model. They find a worm in a trout which Megumi catches with a net.

Now here's where we have some problems. First of all, are there trout in Japan? Second — do they have big worms in them? Third, is it bcause they are wormy that they hang in space, waiting for a kung fu net-twirling Japanese kid to show up and catch them? Fourth — ever hear of catch and release?

I realized at this point in the film that the ol' suspension of disbelief was going to come in handy.

Anyhoo, as you might guess, there are zombies around, and in trying to get away from them the gang find a little village.

Ko (played by Yuki, or maybe it's the other way around), is feeling a little under the weather on account of the worm she ate, and she starts farting.

 She poots her way to the outhouse, where, as is often the case in these isolated locations with a mad scientist in  the barn and tapeworms in the trout, there are also zombies in — or under — the outhouse. 

Iguchi keeps upping the ante, to the point where the film is utterly disgusting in every possible way.

But never tasteless.

We're talking the usual exploding heads and popping eyes. Visible farts. Visible farts with demons in them. Zombies walking on all fours, backwards, with demon parasites sticking out of their butts. White panties. Flying parasite queen, in blue sun dress and flowered panties. Two breasts. Eight gallons blood; four gallons assorted glop. One mad scientist, one toothless goober, one skeezy drug addict, one flying trout.

An outstanding piece of work, and short, too.  Iguchi is an instant Immortal. Four coils, no doubt about it.

NFL week 15 and The Human Tornado

I'm not sure where I am, down some fairly substantial figure. I sat last week out, mostly because I forgot.

Seattle minus 6.5 at New York Giants. The Giants are horrible. They are. Face it. And Seattle's anything but.

Miami plus 3 at New England. I don't think the Pats will lose this game. I do think they will wait until the last second and win it by a point or two. If there was a way to win by one-tenth of a point Belichek would find it.

Carolina minus 10.5 vs. New York Jets. The Jets are horrible. Face it. They are. And Carolina's not perfect, but they are a damn sight better than the Jets.

This is great — picking against all three local teams.

Meanwhile, watch this clip from "The Human Tornado" and tell me the kung fu celebration at about 24 seconds in isn't the greatest of all time. Make a good end zone dance, come to think of it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPu4-rmSjnw

Zombitatious Ta-Tas

"Erotic (or Sexy) Nights of the Living Dead" (1980) is a zombie porno flick that dithers between being a zombie exploitation flick with some decent nekkidity and being a flat-out hardcore porno flick with some decent zombitation.

I think the jury's out.

Erotic...sort of

It's a slightly alarming flick, because the guy who gets the most action, John Wilson, played by Mark Shannon, looks like Keith Hernandez, the Mets first basemen in 1986.

There's a scene with two gals and Keith, er, mark, or John, or whatever, that is pornographic in every sense of the term.

And there are a couple more that get close.

Keith Hernandez, working toward erotic

Laura Gemser, star of innumerable Emanuelle with one"m" flicks, is the star of this, and gets nekkid, but not pornographically.

Just sleazily.

I think this scene would have been more erotic if Larry took his pants off

The plot is about Stupid White People who want to put a hotel on Cat Island, ignoring the fact that the place is crawling with zombies, plus Laura Gemser and her blind grandfather.

Heads, necks, and a penis roll. The de-penising of Keith Hern— er, John Wilson is quite revolting.

 

Not erotic at all

Also: Fun in the insane asylum. Aquatic zombies.  Dramatic foreshadowing, leading to a solid if predictable denouement. A lovely mise-en-scene, which is French for long, lingering, and quite explicit shots of nekkid women doing things. With a champagne bottle, in one case. Hunky nekkid men, if you are watching in mixed company.

I give it two coils for not being one or the other.

Mad Max Goes to the Caribbean

The Atlantis Interceptors (1983) is a piece of Italian cheese in which stupid white people go to an island and battle post-apocalpytic biker punks on account of the Soviet nuclear sub they were trying to raise somehow caused Atlantis to rise out the ocean.

Got that?

This movie makes almost no sense. That would be fine if there were breasts, but there aren't. Beasts, certainly. Magic machine guns that never ever require reloading, check. Plus groovy soul music by the immortal Oliver Onions.

Yes, Oliver Onions. That's what it said in the credits. I backed it up to be sure.

The flick was chiefly interesting because I thought the female lead would eventually take her shirt off.

Here are some of the interceptors:

Here's the exciting theme music - "Black Inferno."

A real turkey. Half a coil, and that's a gift.

Everybody Was Kung-Fu Bull Fighting

Challenge of the Tiger (1980) is the B-side of the "For Your Height Only" DVD. It should have its own disc, complete with a "Making of..." and maybe a primer on topless tennis.

Bruce Le and Richard Harrison are a couple of CIA agents who have to track down a formula that kills sperm. The formula's been stolen by a gal who looks a bit like Sophia Loren, but less mountainous, and hidden in a hat.

The Viet Cong are involved, too.

There's a lot more plot, most of it incomprehensible, but it doesn't matter because there is kung fu.

Lots of kung fu, accompanied by extra-comical dubbed-in kung fu noises.

Not content with your standard "Hah!" and "Ugh," the filmmakers add to the repertoire.

"Geee-yaaaaaaah!"

"Ohhhh...gobble gobble goong fow YAAAAAAAH!"

And my favorite, from a character on his last legs: "Oooo-waaah...gurgle bloont froom (gasp)."

We're talking topless tennis. The Mysteries of the Orient, from the (shapely) rear. Brief full frontal nekkidity at swimming pool.

Also:

Extremely stupid bad guys, who lift weights and listen to bad pop music on headphones when they should be guarding the woman with the anti-sperm formula.  Hot tub sex. Rottweiler kung fu. Bad driving. Filipino jazz.

The centerpiece is near the start of the film, when Bruce Le combines the ancient art of bullfighting with the even more ancient art of kung fu.

It is a remarkable sequence, including exciting jump cuts, stock footage, a stuffed bull and a brief moment of avant-garde animation.

Here it is, for those of you too cheap to spend $12 on the DVD:



"Challenge of the Tiger," for schlock fans, is a must. An unabashed four coils, and an Iron Coil nomination.

Let Us Now Praise Famous Filipino Death Dwarves

In the dubbed version, Weng Weng plays Agent 00, not Agent 3 1/2. I think this is an important distinction.

It's important because "For Your Height Only" is the greatest film ever made.

You can have your "Citizen Kane" and "Battleship Potemkin." Spare me your "Rear Window" and "The Third Man."

Why? Because none of these so-called great films has a midget secret agent who escapes the bad guys by parachuting from a high balcony. With an umbrella.

This flick's got it all, except breasts. For some reason, the filmmakers demurred in this crucial aspect.

So never mind. It's the second greatest film ever made. (The greatest is "Zombie Lake.")

Agent 00 is a big fan of the groin kick, the groin being the nearest area on the personal bodies of his assailants for a man of his height. (Weng Weng was two feet, nine inches tall.)

Although he's proficient with the mini machine gun and the mini samurai sword.

The real bitch is sitting at the regular person table at the Manila's fine restaurants. (They have signs that say "Food! You Eat!")

The flick also features atrocious dubbing in a variety of dialects — Long Island Lockjaw, British dowager, Brooklyn hood.

And the main villain clearly studied at the Moammar Qaddafi Institute of Fashion.

A rare treat, and an even rarer four coil rating, plus consideration for the next all-time Iron Coil list.

All Twitched Up and No Place to Go

Iron Sky (2012) is an extremely silly movie that recently got American conservatives in a snit because the President of the U.S. looks like Sarah Palin.

I only knew about this from a post on Michelle Malkin's Facebook feed, which directed me to her Twitchy website, which discusses Tweets on Twitter.

And if that not's a good reason for banning the Internet then I don't know what is.

Anyhoo, this Finnish foolishness is so dumb it shouldn't worry anybody. Seems in 1945 the Nazis were able to escape and make it to the dark side of the moon, where they set up a colony and bided their time until...

The present day, when a couple of astronauts, sent to bolster the Palin-lookalike's reelection campaign, stumble into the setup, with unfortunate results — one gets dead and the other gets bleached.

The Nazis discover the astronaut's cell phone which can power their entire death star thing — until the battery runs out.

Then it's off to Earth for some iPads and hijinks

This is a truly dumb flick — like an extended Saturday Night Live skit, with spaceships and a set designer that's into steampunk.

And no nekkidity, which is a problem.

Two coils, for annoying Twitchy people, mostly.

The Devil's Rock (2011) is much more like it. In this nasty bit of work from New Zealand's Paul Campion, a couple of British commandos land on one of the Channel Islands just prior to D-Day, to disable a big German gun and generally draw attention away from the invasion.

Seems simple enough, except when the two Tommies get to the castle they can hear all kinds of shrieking, and one of them decides to go in and check it out.

It's always a mistake to stray from the mission — especially when one of the same bunch of Nazis in charge of getting the Holy Grail is holed up inside with a female demon.

Despite the demon's habit of ripping the guts out of everybody who gets near, the Nazi still thinks he can control the gal and unleash her on the Allies.

Two demon breasts. Piles of innards, gallons of blood. Brain-eating. Incantations. Book of evil spells. No devil music. Lots of screaming. Claustrophobia. A little long.

Three coils.

Chicken-Headed Monster, Transformational Death Slime, and the Japanese Zither Theme pt. 1

I had one of those panicky moments recently.After watching yet another uninspired, direct-to-video horror flick, I wondered if I had exhausted the supply of horrible movies.

Not to worry. The folks at Criterion have put out a series called Eclipse. Here is the bumf on that:

Eclipse is a selection of lost, forgotten, or overshadowed classics in simple, affordable editions. Each series is a brief cinematheque restrospective for the adventurous home viewer.

Translation: We have the rights to all kinds of weird stuff, but we don't want to put it out with our regular flicks. So we decided to package three or four flicks together, add some film critic crap on the liner notes, and sell the thing for $35 to little Tarantino wannabes.

Now then — Series 37, "When Horror Came to Shochiku," covers that magical time when the Shochiku studio, late to the "man in monster suit destroys scale model of Tokyo" party, decided to go into horror movies.

There are four movies in the set. I have watched three.

After considering The X from Outer Space (1967), I conclude that one way to keep costs down for the adventurous (and impecunious) home viewer is to go cheap on the translators.

Because the title makes no sense. That's okay, though, because the subtitles don't, either.

The deal is the groovy space crew is trying to get to Mars, but every mission gets waylaid by some mysterious force which leaves some intergalactic space crud on the propeller.

And the dopey crew scrapes off a sample and sticks it in a jar.

Of course the minute they get back to Earth the thing pops out, gets into some atmosphere and turns into a giant chicken-headed dinosaur with death ray eyes, a very thick skin, and some seriously progressive ideas about urban renewal.

As with all monster suit movies, the sequences starring the beast get tedious. On the other hand, it does look like a chicken. Sort of.

Two and a half coils.

Also in the series, from the same director (Kazui Nihonmatsu) is the far superior Genocide (1968), in which enraged insects, fed up with the lethal antics of mankind, decide to wage their own war, starting with swarming over a B-52 carrying a hydrogen bomb and forcing thee airmen to parachute — with the bomb — to some isolated islands off Japan.

You can tell it's the H-bomb because it's clearly labeled as such: "H-bomb." (Also "Handle With Care," "Fragile," and "This End Up.")

See, Joji, local bug nut and married to the lovely and pregnant Yukari, insists on carrying on with Annabelle, the blonde, bikini'd bug nut.

He couldn't have gotten too far with her, however, otherwise he'd have noticed the Nazi death camp tattoo on her personal chest.

Annabelle, driven mad by her experience, wishes to exterminate mankind. This fits in with the plans of the super-poisonous insects on the remote islands, whose venom drives everybody mad before they die.

There are also Eastern bloc spies and American Air Force nitwits with high water chinos, the better to expose their white socks.

Bug death, with lesions. Hallucinatory bug scenes. Major swarmitation. Sixties bikinis, which I think are sexier than today's. Rare 19-shot revolver. Grim ending. Three and a half coils.