After crashing late the following night I woke up dehydrated but without nausea, headache or serious faintness -- either I'm getting more used to liquor (is that bad?!) or those 60 SEK on "Bakis[TM]" really wasn't crock at all... My humble host, on the contrary, had been unfortunately destined to face The Notorious Ambush of Thirteen Goliath Tanks, thus having to recover all morning. While him doing so, I finally decided to see what that fuss about the Pyunilistic POSTMORTEM (1998) was all about:
First of all, you cannot overlook the fact that the protagonist of the film is played by Charlie (oh, sorry CHARLES) Sheen -- Yes! The man from Hot Shots and 2½ Men ... The Man Who Told the Feds about Guinea Pig and made an ass of himself (should have been bullwhipped to the nuts for being such a gullible do-gooder)... But what can I say? Everything is forgotten ... well almost: Mr Sheen portrays the has-been, alcoholic writer and criminal analyst James McGregor (... of the clan McLeod...) who has retired to Scotland after having suffered too much from the disturbed minds of maniacs and still having to smell the aroma of roasting children... However, there's a killer that really wants to get his attention ...
Nothing really happens in POSTMORTEM ... well, a great deal of things happen, but not in that typically emphazised Hollywood way; things appear and take place in such a way they would do in ordinary life, though it's all directed in a way not to make it anything close to boredom. The acting and the film as a whole is good -- but what's best is undoubtedly the colours and the camerawork that on a fine day would make even Dario Argento and his cinematographer jealous. Damn, I said it ... Did I really? Gosh!
When my humble host ultimately had recovered enough strength to appear it was soon time for another feature. What did I want? I had free hands and ventured to ask for a SciFi/Horror ... The dice fell on THE ALIENATOR (Fred Olen Ray: 1990) with the Master of Z-Grade Movies, ex-Herman Wouk devotee, Jan Michael Vincent, in the role, eh not really... There's an intergalactic villain who has escaped being beamed into oblivion by Vincent and Friends' new take on intergalactic electric chairs. What follows is an unsurmountable epic journey into incredible dialogues, remarkeble wardrobes, post 30 year-olds college graduate geekiness and sparkling transsexual alienations by laser gun show apparatus... Apart from the sexy Alienator(-ess) I won't ever stop thinking about the weezing JMV and suffer his ill-fated career while he's staring obsessively down his "secretary's" massive cleavage thinking quietly to himself: "WHAT'S MY FUCKING MOTIVATION FOR THIS SCENE?!"
Spot on once again haha
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