Wow. This movie just completely blew me away. From the trailer I saw online I was expecting some sleazy, cheesy b-movie but what arrived in the post was a true revelation. First off, yes it's a shot on video movie so don't expect your Dolby surround sound kit to get much of a work out and it might be worth polishing your glasses to make sure you can focus on the picture in places, but for what was supposedly a budget of a grand what can you expect. Secondly, budget prejudices aside, there's a story and a bloody compelling one at that. Maybe not wholly original or simple to follow in places, but give it some attention and it'll pay you back in spades. But where this film really pays off is in the performances from the two leads. Demanding roles handled with depth and character and they really bring this story to life. All in all, highly recommended by me if you can handle a strong story and don't need 'hollywood' effects to make a movie watchable.
3 Reviews
A Superb First Movie
sheffds26 March 2005
You never really know what you're going to get with a shot on DV debut feature but this film was a very pleasant surprise. Unlike most others, the makers have completely avoided the horror genre and instead delivered an effective, moving and at times compelling emotional drama with a thriller twist. Admittedly this film is pretty difficult to track down (as they don't currently have a distributor and the film can only be purchased from their website) but in my humble opinion it is well worth making the effort. While the film suffers in places from dodgy audio and not always pristine quality, the gripping story and first rate performances more than make up for any production shortcomings. And for those of a pervy nature, there's also several scenes of full frontal nudity (both male and female which makes a refreshing change).
Dr Salmonella on the soundtrack
Gular-Scute24 January 2008
Hmm, that stirs some half forgotten memories..
I remember seeing this psychedelic jazz/rock/folk/oompah band playing in Sheffield in the late 80s/early 90s. I believe they were called Dr Salmonella and the Extraordinary Teat Production Facility back then.
Despite the format of the gig being unconventional in the extreme, they played with an hitherto unknown blend of ferocity and tenderness that caused women to swoon and grizzled men to weep openly and fall, blue-lipped, to the floor clutching their chests.
The singer performed in jackboots, fishnet tights and a peaked cap with a death's head insignia brazenly displayed upon it. He wore heavy makeup in the style of Yootha Joyce and screamed ultra right-wing slogans while the other musicians variously beat him with their instruments, vomited on him and attempted to copulate with his leg. I think he was called Herr Junkins or something.
The drummer, who appeared to be dressed as Biggles, rarely played his kit and spent most of his time rolling around the stage hugging himself and screaming "Don't let them get me, wing commander!".
One guitarist, a willowy youth with flowing tresses, played an amplified walking stick with two strings. He would regularly attempt to garotte the other members with it until he was forced into a small vivarium and made to summon his muse from therein until the completion of the night's events.
By far the greatest musician of the outfit was a morbidly obese yet devastatingly handsome young man playing keyboards and a guitar made from the thighbone of a mastodon . As the dying throbs and pulses of his dusty organ drained from the room and the show finally degenerated into a howling vortex of entropy, he was last seen being lowered into a vat of rubbing alcohol by a horde of teenage girls and has since passed into obscurity. I remember feeling that this was a tragic loss of almost noticeable proportions.
I remember seeing this psychedelic jazz/rock/folk/oompah band playing in Sheffield in the late 80s/early 90s. I believe they were called Dr Salmonella and the Extraordinary Teat Production Facility back then.
Despite the format of the gig being unconventional in the extreme, they played with an hitherto unknown blend of ferocity and tenderness that caused women to swoon and grizzled men to weep openly and fall, blue-lipped, to the floor clutching their chests.
The singer performed in jackboots, fishnet tights and a peaked cap with a death's head insignia brazenly displayed upon it. He wore heavy makeup in the style of Yootha Joyce and screamed ultra right-wing slogans while the other musicians variously beat him with their instruments, vomited on him and attempted to copulate with his leg. I think he was called Herr Junkins or something.
The drummer, who appeared to be dressed as Biggles, rarely played his kit and spent most of his time rolling around the stage hugging himself and screaming "Don't let them get me, wing commander!".
One guitarist, a willowy youth with flowing tresses, played an amplified walking stick with two strings. He would regularly attempt to garotte the other members with it until he was forced into a small vivarium and made to summon his muse from therein until the completion of the night's events.
By far the greatest musician of the outfit was a morbidly obese yet devastatingly handsome young man playing keyboards and a guitar made from the thighbone of a mastodon . As the dying throbs and pulses of his dusty organ drained from the room and the show finally degenerated into a howling vortex of entropy, he was last seen being lowered into a vat of rubbing alcohol by a horde of teenage girls and has since passed into obscurity. I remember feeling that this was a tragic loss of almost noticeable proportions.
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