Dec 7, 2013
Posted by Soiled Sinema at 11:06 PM
Dec 6, 2013
True to self-flattering fag form, Barry becomes enamored with two blond twinks who look like him and purportedly have the ‘same cocks,’ so he watches them engage in literally and figuratively steamy sodomy. From there, The Maneaters enters the naughty nightmarish realm of the pernicious magician Falconhead’s ‘poof pandemonium’ mirror. In one rather startlingly angelic Mishima-esque scene contained with a completely white and otherworldly room in what seems to be homo heaven, a young blond dude masturbates himself using a red rose with thorns, thus drawing the blood of the young poet. Following the lurid lead of an over-the-hill homo sporting a white wedding dress who somewhat resembles Sean Connery in John Boorman’s Zardoz (1974), Barry listens and watches as perverts imprisoned in the Falconhead’s mirror tell their sexually psychopathic stories in an ultimately feeble attempt to seduce the bratty blond Brit. In a scene that falls somewhere between the ‘subliminal’ homoeroticism of Kenneth Anger’s Scorpio Rising (1964) and the all-out motorcycle-molesting degeneracy of Fred Halsted’s The Sex Garage (1972), Barry watches as two biker boys wearing nothing but jockstraps bugger one another. Barry also voyeuristically gazes at a self-described “cockfreak” who could “eat cock and ass for hours” and “gets off to natural smells” as he sucks off an alpha-cop with a ‘cock-shaped helmet.’ In the end, Barry manages to ‘deny all’ the sinister seductions of the demonic perverts in the Falconhead’s mirror, including a Medusa-like MILF who seems rather out of place in homo Hades, thus he is trapped in pansy purgatory indefinitely. Naturally, Falconhead Part II: The Maneaters (1984) concludes with the eponymous ‘villain’ busting a load in the forest and devilishly declaring to the viewer, “You have reawaken from a dream and found yourself soaked with your own cum.” Unfortunately for Mr. Falconhead, I did not spill a single seed while watching the film, though I did drop some greasy Chinese rice on my pants.
Posted by Soiled Sinema at 9:53 PM
Dec 5, 2013
Posted by Soiled Sinema at 8:14 PM
Dec 4, 2013
Posted by Soiled Sinema at 9:25 PM
Dec 3, 2013
Posted by Soiled Sinema at 10:55 PM
Dec 2, 2013
Probably best remembered today for his holocaust-themed but hardly Hebraic (the film cleverly uses fascism as a metaphor to speak out against Soviet communism) Czechoslovak New Wave flick The Fifth Horseman is Fear (1964) aka A pátý jezdec je starch, Czech auteur Zbyněk Brynych (Suburban Romance aka Žižkovská romance, Transport z raje aka Transport from Paradise) is certainly less known for enjoying an equally interesting, if not artistically less serious, filmmaking career in West Germany, which rather unfortunately concluded with the filmmaker becoming a TV hack of sorts, but he managed to direct a number of culturally pessimistic kraut flicks in between, with Angels with Burnt Wings (1970) aka Engel, die ihre Flügel verbrennen aka Angels Who Burn Their Wings being arguably the greatest of these relatively forgotten high-brow quasi-exploitation works. A sort of anti-consumerist/anti-capitalist/anti-media satire disguised as a decidedly degenerate jet-set-themed psychedelic exploitation flick, Angels with Burnt Wings is paradoxically seductively yet sickeningly saturated with “Swinging 70's” aesthetic repugnancy as a curious celluloid work that really knows how to polish a posh Teutonic turd. Centering around a bad bourgeois boy with some sort of now-prominent personality disorder who is quite jealous of his rich whore of a mother’s extramarital lovers, so much so that he beats one of them to death in a ritzy apartment complex thus spurring a search by the police for the culprit and an absurd narcissism-fueled media frenzy around said apartment complex, Angels with Burnt Wings seems like a kraut softcore flick upon a superficial glance, but it is really a truly dark and culturally damning work depicting a pseudo-zany zeitgeist of soulless self-worship, hedonism for hedonism’s sake, and fucked alienated families with a complete and utter incapacity for communicating with one another. Featuring an array of screwed up characters in fancy ass 1970s wardrobes who do whatever the hell they want whenever the hell they want and never think of the consequences until it is far too late, Angels with Burnt Wings is a celluloid work just as socially conscious and culturally critical as German New Cinema arthouse flicks by the likes of Fassbinder, Wenders, and Schlöndorff, albeit made palatable for the most ADHD-ridden of philistines. Featuring a then-hip soundtrack by Peter Thomas Sound Orchestra (in fact, the film derives its title from their song “Angels Who Burn Their Wings”) that is probably better known today than the film itself (Hollywood hack George Clooney would later use three Peter Thomas songs for his directorial debut Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (2002)), Angels with Burnt Wings is a seemingly unserious film about decadent and deracinated Teutons who live by the wanton Weltanschauung of “la dolce vita” and ultimately pay for the inevitable consequences of their lives of lascivious leisure and luxury, thus concluding in a terribly tragic manner that shocks the viewer back into reality like a heart attack in a cinematic work far from the masturbation aid that some less discerning viewers might assume it is by looking at mere screenshots.
Posted by Soiled Sinema at 9:47 PM
Posted by Soiled Sinema at 12:05 AM