fist of fright.

Sorry all (three of you) for the lack of updates recently due in part to my PC eating three reviews (including a particularly good one of House On Straw Hill that involved me having to sit thru' a grainy VHS rip whilst attempting to block thoughts of Fiona Richmond's frankly frightening bush from my mind) and preparing to attend Glasgow Frightfest.

Reviews, gossip, loveliness and the tale of how I'm responsible for the alternate 2001 Maniacs DVD art to follow.

Sexy Leggy Lauren Conrad at Barnes & Noble Booksellers

Lauren Conrad attends a signing for her book 'Sweet Little Lies' at Barnes & Noble Booksellers at The Grove on February 18, 2010 in Los Angeles, California.

Lauren Conrad Sexy Leggy Pictures

Stephanie Pratt Look Enjoy in Pink Dress on The opening party of lingerie store

Stephanie Pratt enjoys the opening party of lingerie store, Undrest, in West Hollywood.

Stephanie Pratt on opening party of lingerie store

Fergie and The Black Eyed Peas perform at the 2009 Victoria's Secret Lingerie fashion show

Fergie and the Black Eyed Peas perform at the 2009 Victoria's Secret Lingerie fashion show held at the armory in NYC, NY on November 19, 2009.

Victoria Secret Lingerie Fashion Show 2009,NY on November 19.

The Power of the Feminine Factor

A mannish suit, worn with a bolero budding with roses, sent a clear message at the start of Diane von Furstenberg’s show: women can be masculine and feminine at the same time.

For the designer, the story behind this striking show was even more intriguing, because Ms. von Furstenberg is about to exchange her design director of eight years — Nathan Jenden — for another man.

“It seems right to be working with a man — even though 97 percent of my company are women,” said Ms. von Furstenberg, who has appointed Yvan Mispelaere, formerly at Gucci.

The female factor is a powerful influence in this city where fashion can still be a feminist issue. The Kiki Smith art exhibit, which opened at the Brooklyn Museum last Friday, is filled with references to fashionable embellishment, as though women are still defined by dress and adornment.

On the runways, from Victoria Beckham’s sensual, slender dresses through Behnaz Sarafpour’s easy, tailored pieces, a single thread binds women designers: They all tend to design for themselves.

“Definitely, it’s personal,” chorused Alexa Adams and Flora Gill, the duo behind the label Ohne Titel. “But we like to think that what we do is part of a feminist discussion.”

Ms. von Furstenberg seemed surprised that her collection had not turned out quite as she intended, saying, “I wanted it supermasculine, and it looked so feminine — did I overcompensate?”

The answer might be “yes” in reference to hats perched in a froth of tulle, but the general mood of the show was of a strong woman flaunting her femininity with floral dresses — but also asserting her tougher side in pinstriped pants, tweedy blazers and granddad cardigans.

Mr. Jenden has made a good job of his work for the DVF label, prising the image away from the inevitable wrap dress (although a black silk jersey dress stroking the body was a stunner). Another silver dress with a space-age gleam caught well 21st-century glamour.

At Ohne Titel, the design duo described the look as “Victorian sportswear,” referring to netting for dresses and sports mesh for hosiery. The lacy effects were interspersed with geometric forms and toughened up with leather attenuated aprons and curvy felted vests. From tailoring to soft drapes, the show was a fresh, sporty take on the male/female thing.

The Victoria Beckham collection is a projection of its founder’s spirit. Talking about dresses cut loose like oversize sweaters, a new focus on draping and the sophisticated mixes of fabrics, like liquid and ribbed jersey, Ms. Beckham admitted that she was referring to herself. That message ran through each outfit as surely as zippers dissected the cloth.

This celebrity designer is determined to hold up a mirror to her character. And since that is still bold, but now more relaxed, so were the clothes. Colors like emerald green and cobalt blue also made a statement, as did prints of pixilated cartoons that made a powerful, modern pattern on an evening gown.

Gwen Stefani’s L.A.M.B. collection is another rare celebrity success. And there was no doubt that the collection was in her image, as the models wore the sporty separates with about as much makeup, fluffy blonde hair and tough but sexy boots (not to mention visible garter belts) as the inspirational singer.

“I love the process — and I put a lot of time into this,” said Ms. Stefani. “I see the same creative struggle and pressure to get there as in music, but fashion does not have the same level of emotional stress.”

Donna Karan might say the same thing about her DKNY collection, compared with the main line. The clothes looked like what they are — cheery pieces for young women who want a camel peacoat or a plaid jacket, to be teamed with a short skirt and a gilded scarf, sparkling with crystal embroidery or lamé stripes. Flower patterns, as if taken from Japanese prints, contrasted with geometric patterns, creating a collection aimed more at the new generation of the grandchildren she embraced on the runway, rather than on Ms. Karan’s personal aesthetic.

“These are clothes I really want to wear,” said Behnaz Sarafpour, explaining how in her ninth year of working, the collection had come full circle to herself. The result was a subtle play on textures and on masculine and feminine clothes, making sportswear tactile by contrasting a charmeuse blouse with tweed trousers, a blazer with pleated pants or mohair with stretch wool.

Catherine Malandrino was in a wild and woolly world where a goat’s-hair chair, constructed from animal horns, set the tone for furry, cocooning coats and distressed leather that was on the weird side of wearable.

The high clerical collars that caressed the necks at Alberta Ferretti’s Philosophy line were just one way that the Italian designer tenderized tailoring. There was a stronger-than-usual outer shell — a protective shield — coming between the lingerie-light underthings and the firm coats. Long skirts gave a monklike quality, although for every long military coat or belted jacket, there was a wisp of filmy fabric on view. Boots laced at the back were another gesture of hidden sensuality.

Ms. Ferretti assessed the female vision, saying: “Strong, romantic and delicate — a
real woman.”

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von leslie.

Phew! Who knew that researching a World War II based, nasty Nazi script could be so much hard work?

I originally thought that I'd find everything I needed to know from old copies of The Victor, Commando Pocket Library and Sgt. Rock but was I mistaken.

Luckily a friend suggested that I check the History Channel and the Like, which was OK for about 5 minutes until the dead bodies and reports of atrocities started turning up and it all got a wee bit too serious for the likes of me.

So I decided my research should go this route instead, there's nothing like revisiting an old friend after years away.

The Beast in Heat (AKA La Bestia in Calore, Horrifying Experiments of the S.S. Last Days, S.S. Experiment Camp 2, SS Hell Camp. 1977).
Dir: Luigi Batzella.
Cast: Xiro Papas, Macha Magall, Salvatore Baccaro, Gino Turini, Kim Gatti and Mr. Brad Harris (I hope you're proud son).

"What a you screaming for you little fool?
My creature is only showing you a little tenderness"

Welcome to nasty Nazi occupied Europe sometime during World war II, where the evil (yet cutely button nosed) Dr. Ellen Krast (Magall from Private House of the SS, my darkest dreams and your dad's favourite film, Common Sense of Modesty) has been conducting bizarre and unethical experiments to aid in the creation of an Aryan Master Race.

Unfortunately it appears that the DNA of top 80's British comedy Christian Bobby Ball has accidentally been added to the genetic mix, causing the experiment to result in the creation of a short, bubble permed and hairy backed beast man (ex flower vendor Baccaro) who is born not only with a permanent erection but smelling of shit and with a nasty habit of eating lady bits.

Hang on, it might actually be Bobby Ball.

Embarrassed by the beasts almost constant wanking at the dinner table (and his habit of wiping his massive cock on female guests dresses) Dr. Krast has decided to try to cool his passions by tossing the occasional (nude) Jewish female into his cage in the vain hope of cooling his raging addiction to sex.

"Rock on Tommy!"

As you can probably guess this just makes the poor fella more excited and being unable to speak, he can only show his love and appreciation by tossing the unfortunate woman around like a ragdoll whilst sticking it in every available orifice (plus a few even I'd never seen before).

Luckily for those few watching that possess no imagination, our kindly director shows the entire assault in glorious close-up.

For around 15 minutes.

Not only that but when the lady involved dies (of either sheer boredom or embarrassment, who knows?) the beast continues to merrily shag her corpse.

Aw, how sweet.

Meanwhile back at the 'war is hell' bit of the plot, hunky resistance fighter Jeff Drago (Turini from such classics as Caligula and Messalina, Caligula Reincarnated As Nero and Caligula 2: Electric Boogaloo) who is busy setting fire to a school boys model of a bridge.

Bastard.

Jeff it appears is a bit of a loose cannon amongst the French Resistance, seeing as he enjoys fighting Germans and upsetting school kids, unlike his pals who only enjoy arguing amongst each other, drinking wine and surrendering at any given opportunity.

This difference of opinion has the resistance group at breaking point, leaving the local priest Don Lorenzo -Llamas (Eurotrash veteran Harris) with the job of pulling everyone together.

Oh and molesting all the wee boys of course.

Half naked brunette in a Nazi cap? Check. Robert Downey Jr. strung up like a pig? Check. Who says dreams can't come true?

All this bridge based terrorism has caused a bit of a headache for the head of the Nazi camp, the camp Nazi Captain Tony Hardinghauser (Gatti from Django's Cut Price Corpses) who is ordered by the evil General in charge of, um, things to round up the local old men, women and children and administer a jolly good beating till someone spills the beans regarding the resistance group.

The villagers however are made of stern stuff, standing stoically as the jackbooted German hordes smash their windows and kick over assorted pot plants, only losing their cool demeanour when one of the soldiers tosses a baby into the air before machine gunning it to streaky bacon like pieces.

This is the final score for Lorenzo -Llamas who (presumably upset at the loss of a new young bum to violate) proceeds to kick the shite out of anyone in a helmet.

From out of nowhere (but I'm guessing from behind the bins) steps the slinky Dr Krast who, after posing for a while in her far to tight uniform orders the village taken back to the camp.

It seems she has her own unique way of making them talk.

And yes it does involved her stripping down to her jackboots whilst rubbing herself against sweaty chained Frenchmen.

Which, I'll admit doesn't seem that upsetting a thought if I'm honest.

Saying that tho' one old man seems to think it's awful as he keeps screaming "Stop! stop!" every time she grabs his penis and gives it a wee shuggle whilst brushing her smooth milky breasts against her toasted cheese chest.

Being a woman she reacts to this rejection the same way as any of them would and chops it off with a rusty pen knife.

And with that the party can really start.

"Heil Hitler! Now let's all get

drunk and play Ping Pong!"

One of the villagers, Harry Niceman is stripped naked, hung upside down by his ankles and dunked in water whilst a big butch soldier whips his arse and whilst all this is going on the poor woman behind him is locked in a cage and attacked by a horde of vicious guinea pigs (sorry, I mean rats).

Don't worry about the beast missing out tho' as Krast is keeping him amused by tossing in the occasional filly for him to have his wicked way with.

It's like chucking out time in Glasgow city centre on a Saturday night.

Only with classier girls obviously.

"Laugh now!"

Will Krast get the information she needs to defeat the evil resistance and bring peace, order and group sex clubs to the world?

Will Drago be arsed turning up and saving everyone?

And will the beast's unnatural appetites ever be quenched?

The cinematic equivalent of being forcibly buggered by a stinky tramp in front of your loved ones, The Beast in Heat is most probably the scuzziest, most inept and possibly one of the most offensive things ever committed to celluloid that would be lucky to get greenlit let alone released today.

Everything about the film (bar Macha Magall) is utterly atrocious, from the cack-handed dubbing to the almost comedic overuse of stock footage and children's toy planes during the battle scenes via the obvious lack of cast members on show; three overweight extras double for an entire German platoon whilst the village appears to consist of only six people and a Tiny Tears doll.

It's obvious that more money must have been spent on keeping Salvatore Baccaro in pasta and lard than was spent on anything remotely important like costumes or a script and the entire enterprise seems to exist for no other reason than to offend the moral majority.

But even then it's just too boring to even consider sitting thru' unless of course you're a paraplegic and can't move from in front of the teevee without help.

Why your girlfriend didn't answer her phone last night.

Jack of all trades Luigi Batzella (AKA Gigi Batzella, Paull' Hamus, Dean Jones, Ivan Katansky and way too many more to list) directs (if you can call it that) with the style and deftness he brought to such forgotten classics as Dragon Bruce Le (never heard of it), Black Gold Dossier (nope that either) and of course Nude for Satan (finally! I've seen this one and it's shite too) forgoing any attempts at suspense or professionalism instead concentrating on the ammount of huge seventies bush he can cram on screen at any given time.

At least he had the decency (in this film at least) to cast (the aforementioned) Macha Magall as quite possiblt the sexiest SS officer this side of Udo Kier.

And for that we should be eternally grateful.

Probably.

Or not.

The Beast in Heat is one of those rare movies that if you've seen it you can never unsee it and if you haven't.....

well just don't bother.

pieuvre pics.

It's mid-term break here so between rampaging podlings and heavy research into Aryan cattle I've not really had time to watch anything of much consequence recently.

But I have come across (quite literally in some cases) even more of those family friendly funny foreign comics.

Enjoy!

maiden japan.

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