Saturday, May 31, 2014

Sunny Gore-ida: Love Goddesses of Blood Island, Part 6

If new to this series, start here.

Excitement, action, and random kitchen accidents await within the stunning conclusion to Love Goddesses of Blood Island!  Blood will flow, and that's just from listening to the awful low-budget guitar and kazoo-filled-with-whipped-cream jazz score.

David Seville's "Witch Doctor" has a really weird video.

Our love goddesses have fallen into a trance, something the movie neither cares to explain or cares to shoot in any way that makes sense.  You have to give the director credit for trying this hard to actually not try.  It's a gift, or a curse.  Maybe it's a gurse?

Our hero and his new sweetie make a run from the beach.  But the love goddesses are close behind!

Cut, cut, stop smiling!  Rock murders don't smile!

... maybe a little too close!  Head love goddesses and Pippi Longstockings goddesses gets in a bit of a tussle that last nearly three minutes of light rolling around in the sand. In the 60s, this is the best you're going to get! Pippi picks up a rock -- that looks mysteriously like a sponge soaked in red paint -- but a rock damn it, a rock -- and proceeds to lightly brain the daylights out of the head love goddesses, and get paint on everything.

One down, but another approaches. Luckily our hero has a spear.

Iiiieeeeiiiiiii will always love yoooooouuuuuuuuu!

That'll leave a mark.

Somebody took corset training a little too seriously, didn't they?  Our love goddesses was carrying a large knife, and let's hope that she doesn't pull out the spear, turn around, get the knife pointed at her eye, and then fall on it.

What are the possibilities of that happening?

Worse yet, that grass is full of ticks!

Relatively high!  The other love goddesses never show up (big hair shellacking appointment?) and our hero and now tamed love goddesses (couldn't leave well enough alone without mentioning a fetish, could I?) get off the island.

I stopped the movie here and assumed they were eaten by very dull-toothed sharks.

You'd tell me if my tongue went black, right?

Thus ends Love Goddesses of Blood Island.  The last minute of the film is a ambulance/newspaper montage that our hero has been rescued, and that men in the 60s -- both allured by and afraid of women's sexuality -- can go right back to being jerks.

It's a win-win!

Monday, May 26, 2014

Sunny Gore-ida: Love Goddesses of Blood Island, Part 5

If new to this series, start here.

This movie keeps going and I'm beginning to feel it, deep in my withered soul.  I think if I found myself in a crafts store and got near the fake tropical foliage section, I might go nuts.  It would certainly make an interesting news item!

Whirlpool hair, big for a couple of days in the late 60s.

One day, and one day soon, a majestic bird will appear from that egg on her head, and then that bird shall grow scales and burn every last person that worked on this movie, or was related to somebody that worked on this movie, or dared do a good deed for anybody that worked on this movie.

This is the next lady for our hunky hero to make love/uselessly paw.  But she has a sinister secret!

One for the ladies, if you like prehensile butt testicles.

Our next woman actually wants to escape, and enlists the aid of our hero.  She tells him that they still have to make love, because:

"You're being watched, didn't you know, there are three of them, now out there in the jungle.  They are love goddesses, they love watching as much as participating."

To which our hero replies:

"Degenerate fiends!"

I'm willing to accept a remote island full of love goddesses and plastic kiddie pools surrounded by faux marble, but I'm not willing to believe that there's a single hetrosexual male that said those words next to "hot women want to watch you have sex with hot women."  That stretches my suspension of disbelief until it snaps back and kills the cat.

Beach Blanket Bingo got really weird near the end.


Here's where it's obvious we are missing footage.  Suddenly he's at the center of ring around the rosie if you replace rosie with pointy stab-y sticks.

A scene from every stoner party I went to in college.

Our lead love goddesses -- sounds like a position at an LA strip club -- lead the bruhaha with all the gusto of somebody medicated for the pain of a missing bottom half.

Part of the missing footage -- and I'm guessing, because I've seen enough of these films to know that continuity isn't something they'd even wave "hi" at from the other side of the street -- must have been our hero and the other woman planning their escape.

They've really updated Disney's Tiki Lounge!

... and it seems the escape plan involves our hero being stabbed repeatedly.  Not particularly well thought out.  But wait, is that rope not tied very securely?  Isn't this exciting?  Kind of?

Next: The exciting conclusion!  Or just a conclusion.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Dinosaur Dracula Turns Two

We interrupt our look at Love Goddesses of Blood Island -- no, not forever, sit down, shut up -- as we celebrate a birthday.

The blog Dinosaur Dracula, who helped me get back into the comedy blogging game, turns two so in honor of our vamperic T-rex, let's take a quick look at the things Dinosaur Dracula did before he became a famous blog host:

Dinosaur Dracula during his time as a TV executive, moments before he was fired for green lighting the Lynda Carter Variety Show.

(click to read)

The original 1930s newspaper gag strip, Dinosaur Dracula and Herbert.  Every strip ended with Herbert going "zoink" and falling over.  It lasted 3 days.

Dinosaur Dracula's short lived career as a Vegas Magician, though other magicians agreed his rabbit disappearing trick was unique.

Happy Second Anniversary Matt!

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Sunny Gore-ida: Love Goddesses of Blood Island, Part 4

If new to this series, start here.

At this point, Love Goddesses of Blood Island is just numerous scenes of our hero being worked in the fields, than forced to have off-screen sex (multiple times a night) with each of the "goddesses", a term which I, and the film makers, use very, very loosely.

Basically, it's just a film of a guy doing 'hos.

What, you were expecting something else?

Yes, I'm reduced to puns.  But things are going to pick up soon, because we finally get the promised gore.  One of the women, before she has sex with our hero, in what has to be the world's worst pillow talk ever, mentions calmly what she did to the last guy.

For men, this is better than Viagra!

Alright, alright!  I'll put the toilet seat down, geesh!

I can't blame her, if I found a stylist did that to my hair, I'd be in a killing mood, too.

I'm trying to determine what you might consider that make-up.  Nuvo-Egyptian? Strained cat?  Norman Bates mother, pre-desiccation?  I do have to say this would make a great dating site profile picture.  It reads "fun", or maybe more specifically, "relatively short fun followed by bunny cooking."

She killed a clown, he's full of festive balloons!

It's nice this guy man-scaped before getting cut open.  There's no a hint of hair on his oddly colored and completely cylindrical body.  It's nice for victims to go the extra mile to make their bodies look as absolutely fake as possible, even replacing their own organs with glowing pink sausages.

Those pants are absolutely ruined.  No way is all that blood coming out in the wash!

I didn't work all day in a hot kitchen for nothing!  You're going to eat it!

It's like she just discovered that she's holding a heart in her hands.  Maybe next she'll figure out she's in a gold bikini acting in a movie called Love Goddesses of Blood Island.  Then she'll really scream.  And probably really cut somebody open.  Hopefully the director.

Well, the whole island of hot women thing didn't turn out as expected.

He might be dead, but his marvelous permed hair remains intact!  We truly do live in a age of wonders!

Saturday, May 17, 2014

Sunny Gore-ida: Love Goddesses of Blood Island, Part 3

If new to this series, start here.

More of Love Goddesses of Blood Island.  By more I mean more dance numbers, more pain, more self-incrimination, and more all around feeling that life is meaningless.

This is a film that really touched me!

Turning on the ladies tip: It helps to smell like Brute, chlorine, and roast pig.

So our hero starts doing his manly duty on the island, which is bedding all the babes.  This seems too good to be true, doesn't it?  It is, you know it, and I know it, so let's instead focus on the blanket and pillows.  No, not on the stains on the blankets and pillows, please, no.  No.

This is another remote island that seems to have a crafts store on it.  You'd think these resourceful ladies killed a leopard in the jungle, but instead it seems they killed the jungle print section in the local fabric store.

Oh hell, let's talk about the stains.  I'm sure they are massive and gross.  A black light on that thing would sear your retinas off. 

Oh god no no no NOT A DRUM SOLO!

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Dance Number!

He just noticed the key grip's lack of pants.

Our hero suddenly becomes woozy in a very over-the-top high-school-production bit of acting, and the movie never explains how this happens.  I have some theories:
  • Drank the water from the pool
  • Ate part of the paper mache cooked pig
  • Easily mesmerized by tiger striped fabric
  • Just got back the STD test results for the all the dancers
I had this dream.  The ladies were all Lynda Carter, though ...

Turns out things are a bit worse off for our hero, and I'm not referring to his hair line.

He's put to work as a beast of burden plowing the fields to help them grow, what exactly is never mentioned.  Can you grow beauty products?  Is that how they make eyeliner and hair gel?  The women have to get it from somewhere!

The 60's greatest invention: The Go-Go Dancer Self-Wash Conga Line.

These questions, along with questions like "why does this blog exist" and "doesn't he feel any shame", go unanswered because in a movie with a 60 minute run time, we can't waste a single frame that could be used for another ludicrous dance number.

Coming up next: More damned dancing!  Same dance channel, same dance time.

Monday, May 12, 2014

Sunny Gore-ida: Love Goddesses of Blood Island, Part 2

If new to this series, start here.

Continuing on with our look at Love Goddesses of Blood Island, which is shot in Florida so it's really Love Goddesses of Blood Peninsula, and really hasn't contained any exceptional amount of blood, so I'm thinking it's more Love Goddesses of Red Paint Peninsula, and, I guess none of these girls are really Goddesses -- so -- welcome back to our continuing look at Lounge Music Strippers of Red Paint Peninsula.

Last time, we had a completely boring dance number.  This time, I know things are going to ramp up!

Be honest, who has the silliest hair?

... with 5 minutes of talking head plot exposition.

The woman in the pink speaks with an accent of a cave hermit from New Jersey.  Nothing says "Island of Hot Women" then the sound of a slightly squeaky auto mechanic pouring out of a pretty face.

So I guess after that the action starts, right?

The woman on the left sun-tans in a nuclear blast furnace.

Or just another damned dance number!

Luckily, this remote island has a bikini shop.  Unluckily, everything is in gold lamé.  What's next, I dread to ask?

Did the script really call for that look of regret?

No one will be seated during the riveting shaving sequence.  Even the pig seems bored, and he's been skinned, stabbed, cooked, and made of paper mâché

And what's next on the action packed parade, he asks, knowing full well:

The pig cooked himself after the third dance number.

More dancing.  I'm beginning to think this is less an island of Love Goddesses and more an Island of Low Impact Jazzercise.

Finally, something exciting: A pool of White Out Mountain Dew!

Finally, at least some frolicking.  That's action packed if you squint one eye and then stab yourself with a bar-b-que fork in the other.  Ignore that the frolicking is happening in an obvious vinyl pool surrounded by appliqué marble.

BTW, there's one A and two E's in this article with accent marks.  That was a lot of extra key strokes! It's that kind of finely crafted artistry and/or cut-n-paste from Wikipedia that you, my two readers and various shut-ins, demand.  You're welcome!

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Sunny Gore-ida: Love Goddesses of Blood Island, Part 1

In 1963, nudie film makers David F. Friedman and Herschell Gordon Lewis, two guys we've talked about a lot of this site, had a brilliant idea that became the very first gore film, Blood Feast.  A single film, made in Miami Beach by an amateur director/contractor named Richard Fink, called Six She's and a He, aka The Love Goddesses of Blood Island, was the second gore film.  And nobody knew about it.  The prints were lost, until Something Weird Video managed to reconstruct a partial version of it from bits of negatives.

There's a lot of Manos: The Hands of Fate in this thing.

There's also a lot of women in bikinis dancing to lounge music, sets more plastic than a 90s porn star, and a bathtub full of fake blood.  That's a lot to take in, so let's get started!

I think you're doing the copyright wrong.

Note to self:  If I decide to repackage an exploitation film to find a wider audience, I might want to think about adding new title card.  Even back then, in 19-six-she's-and-a-he.  I'm surprised they managed to get the "c" right in the middle of the copyright symbol, and not "g" or "u" or "blargh."

Here's our hero, crash landed in the sea from either a rocket (if you believe the opening narration) or from a B-29 (if you believe the hero's narration.)  It's the movie equivalent of a "Choose your own Adventure" book, but with more bikinis.

That jump suit is wet in very inappropriate places.

Our hero washes up on a beach (probably the only thing washed in this film) and is dragged off the beach by some pretty ladies, one of whom has a darling proto-Farrah Fawcett hair-do -- while stranded for years on an island -- a hair-do she must have put in place with coconut oil and snakes.

The women that drag our hero off the beach are called -- I kid you not -- Aphrodite, Eros, Pantora, and ... Rebecca.

Our hero's name is -- I also kid you not -- Fred Rogers.

Nooooooooo Mister Greenjeans!

Fred gets his first taste of how men are treated on this island, and I assume it just confuses him because a comic book ad mask covered in red paint doesn't quickly translate to a set of rules and regulations.

Ancient wonder or the pool at the local Motel 6?

Our sexy overlord is Aphrodite, who says numerous times that Fred will "intimately know the stick."  This is what she uses to keep men and certainly pesky cats in line.

Our hero notes that "no woman could have built this structure" right in front of a woman threatening to hit him with a stick for the crime of being a man.  Instead of a much deserved thrashing, she just agrees with him, and then notes he's going to be worked to death.

Somebody got in the last word!

Swan Lake: The Dumpy Version

And what do these terrifying she-wolves do next?  Why, the first of many, many, sweet-Jesus-take-me-home-now dance numbers.  They are about as sexy as you'd assume, and that's without the thrashing stick.

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Post #333: Jody the Pig Finds a Job

It's post #333, and that starts us off on another poorly premised comedy post based on the kind of minutia and in-jokes that I've used to become a top comedy blog -- if you ignore all other blogs (including ones based solely on creating doilies) and if you don't consider the jokes written on bubble gum wrappers as blog posts.

Thus, we investigate the newly found resume of Jody the Pig.

Jody the Pig

Little Girl Befriending
Boat House Demolition
Fly Wrangling

That, right there, is some high caliber comedy writing ... if you know the reference.*

* might be untrue**
** certainly untrue***
***my lawyer asks that I put a further disclaimer that any headaches, seizures, lose of muscle and/or bladder control, and over-use of the word "patooie" are not the fault of this blog****
**** its probably the fault of this blog*****
***** honestly, this was all an excuse so I could draw a demon pig for blog #333******
****** thanks for playing along!