The feature film knockoff is arguably the most celebrated pornographic genre, not so much for the films themselves but their inventive titles. That statement is, however, a bit misleading considering that most of these titles are, in fact, fake. Still, it is perhaps far more palatable for many to imagine films like Schindler’s Fist or How Stella Got Her tubes Packed than to acknowledge the vast cornucopia of filth that can be found through even the most innocuous of unfiltered Google searches.
Regardless, knockoff porno has, of course, been made; but few have produced the atrocity that is 1973’s Bat Pussy. After the introduction from a sharp dressed man — who may or may not have been the inspiration for John Travolta as he prepared for the roll of Vincent Vega — who informs us that, should we not wish to view a porno we probably should have paid more attention to the neon signs when we entered the theater, the movie proper begins. We are informed that in a secret underground warehouse, Adora Dildo, a.k.a. Bat Pussy is waiting patiently for her “twat to twitch”, which it seems is a sign that a crime is going to be committed, like a vaginal Spider-sense.
This apparently occurs, for Bat Pussy emerges, now costumed, from an outhouse, leaps onto a red rubber ball and proceeds to bounce across a rural landscape in what must be the most inefficient mode of transportation one could employ, short of getting from place to place by doing “The Worm”. Aware of this shortcoming, our white trash heroine makes a bee-line for the scene, stopping only to foil the plans of a lecherous, portly man who attempts to accost a young woman and to urinate, which she probably should have done back at the outhouse before she left.
Eventually she arrives and here, thankfully, this edit ends as what follows would have been unpleasant. It seems that the crime was, in fact, the filming of a porno:
Picture a beehived redhead Trailer Trash chick in her 40’s from Tennessee doing some MAJOR shit-talking to an impotent hillbilly while rolling around naked on a bed trying to copulate.
No. No I think I shan’t. I’ve seen more than enough and, really, some things are better left unseen.
Here we come to yet another Friday, another end to another work week, another afternoon spent impatiently waiting for the hands of the clock to come into perfectly angled alignment signaling the beginning of the weekend. Allow Ectomo to present you with something to perhaps help the time go faster.
“The Earth was created, not with the gentle caress of love, but with the brutal violence of rape.”
So begins 1971’s The Hellstrom Chronicle. A documentary narrated by the fictitious Dr. Nils Hellstrom, played by Lawrence Pressman, an entomologist whose work has led him to a terrifying conclusion, that ultimately it will not be man who inherits the earth, but insects. Truly horrifying stuff, so horrifying in fact, that it requires Pressman to narrate the entire film in an impressively over-the-top, B-movie manner.
Dr. Hellstrom is not the reason you’ll watch, however. The real star here is the incredible footage of insects on display. Shot by a several cinematographers, they manage to get so close to their subjects that the viewer almost occupies the same space with them. It’s truly fantastic camera work, and more than makes up for the hammy, “We’re all doomed!” atmosphere that Pressman’s voice-over attempts to stir up.
Incidentally, this film would be the inspiration for Frank Herbert’s novel Hellstrom’s Hive, about a secret group of humans who model their lives upon social insects, and the unsettling events that unfold after they are discovered by the US government.
A meaty treat for you to sink your teeth into this morning, loyal viewers. Consider this more of a brunch than a breakfast if you will. To celebrate the stupendous event of the release of the first season of the outstanding Freakazoid! we present four, crazed episodes. Nestled in between these delectable treats lies a surreal, French delicacy: La Planète Sauvage (Fantastic Planet). If you have any questions about your meal, the waiter will be happy to answer them:
• Freakazoid!: “A Matter of Love”, in which Cosgrove gets himself a girlfriend; a girlfriend who may not be what she seems. HUGGBEE!
• Freakazoid!: “The Wrath of Guitierrez”. Guitierrez zaps Freakazoid into a video-game world in order to destroy him.
• La Planète Sauvage (Fantastic Planet) René Laloux’s amazingly bizarre science fiction classic set in a future where human, called Oms, have been taken by the gigantic Draag to their home planet and kept as pets; but the the siren call of freedom is strong and rebellion is fermenting among the Oms. Fantastic Planet is one of those films whose effect on me has not been lost, even after multiple viewing. It remains just as strange and wonderful as it did when I first saw it.
• MUSICAL INTERMISSIONThanks, Evil Jim!
• La Planète Sauvage continues, everyone take your seats.
• Freakazoid!: “The Island of Dr. Mystico”. Freakazoid is entrusted with transporting the city’s top villains to the remote country of France. Oh crap, is that Candlejack in that pic-
• Freakazoid!: “Virtual Freak”. Picture this: In a normal mall, in a normal arcade a game is being assembled by two men named Bob who both share a secret desire to date Agent Scully of the X-Files. The game is rumored to be neato torpedo. OR IS IT!?
“This video, while absolutely terrifying from a psychological perspective, is essential for your forthcoming Moustache Monday.”
As this post illustrates, we are in complete agreement with Mr. Gilmore, however, it was only upon careful scrutiny of this clip from Spanish television show Esta noche… Fiesta, that I was struck with an epiphany. Watching those moustachioed dancers — male and female alike, moustachioed — writhe in unison, clad in bold yellow and black attire I realized that I was witnessing a message sent from the past, a portent of things to come. In a moment I understood that I was watching not just a television clip but one of the glorious dance numbers from Ectoplasmosis!: The Musical.
A 1979 documentary focused on gang culture in the South Bronx. The film focuses on two gangs, the Savage Skulls and the Nomads — whose members have such colorful sobriquets as Fly, Comanche, and Crazy Joe — as well as Bob Werner, a member of the Youth Gangs Task Force that oversaw the area at that time. While it doesn’t spend a whole lot of time really digging into just how violent these gangs were, it does offer an interesting snapshot of New York at the time. Crime in the 70s was on a slow and steady upward climb as the city verged on the edge of bankruptcy and the increase in gang activity was one of the more direct results of an ever growing under class confined to the outer boroughs. Few perhaps realized how bad it would become in the 80s with the introduction of crack until its peak in the early 90s.
Also, notable for the plethora of 70s pornstar moustaches on display.
Note: the video itself is fine, however the language contained therein is of the NSFW variety.
It is unfortunate that were I to let my hair grow long enough it would simply expand into a tangled nest of staggering proportions, a prime example of the dreadful Jew-fro; denying me the simple pleasures of The Executive’s well-shaped elegance or The Perfecto’s sleek profile.
Wendy and Richard Pini, creators of long-running indy comic series Elfquest, are making the whole caboodle available free of charge at their website. New issues will be posted weekly until 30 years’ worth is online.
Comment from BoingBoing and Metafilter remind us why this is one of the best comics you’ve never heard of, but here’s a quick primer on why it rules.
• With Dave Sim’s Cerebus, it was among the first self-published comics to make it big, booting down the door for new talent the nation over. Its success as a graphic novel in mainstream bookstores helped infect the American mainstream with a European-esque appreciation for comics. Women actually read this. Women.
• Wendy Pini’s art is a melting pot of comics, manga and classical illustration. And she’s been at it since before most people had even heard of manga…
• The feral, omnisexual, hallucinogen-guzzling protagonists aren’t Tolkien-derived clichés, but a freakish medley of european lore, native american myth and hippy free love.
• No superheroes, magic wands or other arbitrary magics. It’s consistently plotted to tight rules of engagement and expertly crafted by the same wife-and-husband team thats been doing little else since 1977.
• It’s a neat blend of high fantasy and science fiction: the “elves” are aliens who wanted to impress us by appearing as angels, but got stuck in a genetic disguise by their slaves’ violent rebellion.
• All the fashions in it are either from the 1970s or the 1930s: everyone is either a pimp in furs and leather or something sculpted by Erté. They just don’t make ‘em like this any more.
• Winnowill is the best arch-villainess since Maleficent Cthulhu.
• It’s not over: the story’s final showdown, the creators write, has been written but not yet published.
• 6,000 pages of full-color classic indy brilliance free of charge. Precedent set.
• Issue #17’s Elf Orgy. If nothing else, a great name for a punk band. (Brownlee has already demanded scans, but I don’t have a copy to hand — any fans out there who can do the honors?)
According to the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), literacy rates rose at a faster rate in the 1970s than in any other decade. Meanwhile, in the new millennium, the American Library Association fights for funding with grim desperation. We here at Ectomo would like to suggest a correlation between those two data points with the help of the above advertisement for a 42nd Street Library, circa 1976. Seems like the solution to both problems in one deft stroke, doesn’t it? Or more, I guess, depending on the collaborative skill of the seven librarians and whether or not they are working simultaneously, or in shifts.
Watching this collection of 70s commercials for mostly sci-fi themed toys I am struck by how little has changed in how they are marketed. A child — or children — playing with whatever object is being peddled with as much excitement as they can muster while a disembodied adult voice breathlessly lists each product’s amazing features, although modern commercial narrators have taken excitement from breathless to something approaching apoplectic. The exception here is the ad for the Shogun Warriors™ toys which feature a waxy, leering gentleman in a dingy, dimly lit basement hovering over a display case, perhaps to foreshadow the kind of adult a child collector of such trinkets might grow into. If anything his descriptions of the figures’s abilities leave something to be desired. I’m not sure we needed to be told that Gaiking™ allows us to “aim him” or that the Shigcon Tank™ has “The Drill”, as I’m sure both of these could be inferred, although being able to take the aforementioned Gaiking™ apart to make “The Skull” is a most exciting feature. Also of note is Suckerman™, who is covered in suction cups. “You can even stick him to himself!” Mr. Disembodied voice proclaims, in a way that is decidedly not age appropriate. Suuuuuuuuuuuuu-ker-man
Based on a Taiwanese television show, Ninja The Final Duel consists of ninety minutes of utter nonsense, introduced by the voice of a WWII era newsreel reading such gems as: “Ninja light skill leaps and bounds. Acrobatics designed to bring a deathly swiftness.” and “Ninja rock climbing formation lightning streaks. Nothing stands in their way.” Featuring a woman who performs nude kung-fu, a rhyming, jive talking, African-American gentleman called “The Black Monk”, and, last but not least, the Water Spider Assault Team, which consists of ninjas on spider shaped paddle boats that occasionally leap into the air. The movie cheese factor was later increased by comedian Rudy Ray Moore, of Dolemite fame, re-dubbed the movie and released the result as Shaolin Dolemite.
Behold, the trailer for the blaxploitation classic Dolemite. Rudy Ray Moore stars as the titular Dolemite: pimp, kung-fu master, and all around badass. The trailer’s combination of Moore rhyming like a foul mouthed Dr. Seuss and footage of Dolemite striking an attacker, causing him to jump into the trunk of a car, or surrounded by a bevy of deadly, afroed hos sums up the film perfectly.
(Clip is NSFW not so much for, what can be described as, copious use of the word “muthafucka” but for a single, naked breast. Thankfully, said mammary does not belong to Moore.)
It’s Friday so just sit back, relax, and watch James Brown, his man breasts glistening through an obscenely low v-neck, his legs clad in the widest and finest of flared pants. Watch him as he dances for he dances for you, Ectomo.
A younger Rowan Atkinson and John Cleese expound on the magical world of beekeeping. It’s strange to see humorists the likes of Atkinson and Cleese in their younger years, used as I am to now seeing them as aged men replete with salt and peppered hair. Watching old clips such as this takes me back to a simpler time, a time when the antics of British comedians were fresh and new, and John Cleese was still pretending he had a full head of hair.
In sheer defiance of the World Wide Web Consortium's will, Ectomo was designed using a non-web-standard font. Luckily, it is included in the excellent font pack released by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, which can be freely downloaded in Mac and PC formats here. Ectomo should still look fine without it, though.
