Weirdling_Wolf

This frothy 60s skin-flick finds a doltish, implausibly fortuitous treasure hunter, dangerously adrift in the desert, finding fleshly succour within an exotic oasis solely populated by six hypnotically nubile nude natives. Aptly named Randy Brent stars as the hapless Adam, sultrily beguiled by this bouncingly buxom bevy of blissfully boff-able babes. Should one be able to temporarily suspend one's disbelief for 60 cheesecake-stuffed minutes, the jocular text proves modestly mirthsome, I could never completely resist a sardonic, serially quipping mule, coupled with a perky panoply of permanently topless totty! What the tantalizingly titty-licious Adam and Six Eves lacked in profound intellectual substance is more than generously compensated by spectacularly voluptuous substance! On an entirely more subjective note, I thought the fabulously fulsome Fatima was a peach, even with her crooked witchy beak, and I manufactured additional amusement by pretending the disproving donkey was voiced by Peter Falk!.

A routine, mid-budget DTV shoot 'em up that is certainly enlivened by the charismatic presences of a seemingly ailing Mickey Rourke and agile Kung Fu phenomenon Michael Jai White. The mediocre plot is conspicuously recycled Seagal/Lundgren fare, wherein 'I got a bad feeling about this!' is said without irony, merely highlighting the literarily moribund text. Ex-jailbird, biker skell Johnny's (Rourke), violent attempts to reclaim ill-gotten loot, secretly stashed in PTSD stricken veteran James's (White) house concludes with predictably Fubar'd results. The action is competent, though not especially thrilling, whereas Michael Jai White's nuanced performance as a physically capable man struggling with debilitating mental health issues was sensitively portrayed, revealing a greater depth than many of his action hero peers. The Commando has a rather unhurried pace, the bloody climax being preceded by a gnarly home invasion, with handsome star Michael Jai White heroically protecting home and hearth with consummate brutality. I mostly enjoyed The Commando, my appreciation largely due to a continued fondness for Mickey Rourke, and a great admiration for Michael Jai White's prodigious martial arts prowess.

An uncommonly bleak, Bible black Hungarian thriller from 1990 that eerily seems to exist in a sinisterly primordial age all of its very own. A seasoned detective's search for a brutal serial child killer draws him inexorably into an obsessive manhunt which leads him ever deeper into a malign vortex of his very own increasingly tormented psyche. Twilight is a morbidly crepuscular, unhurried, almost wholly interior crime procedural, an existentialist nightmare which slowly envelops the spectator within a dense pall of creeping disquiet. An astonishing, absolutely unique iteration of a murder mystery, Gyorgy Feher's singular vision is strikingly visual, unsettling, yet never less than mesmerising. Utilizing his fluidic camera with consummate skill, the detective's expressly grim, psychologically devastating odyssey is illuminated in only the blackest of hues. An exquisite work of immaculately photographed doom, both manifestly human and utterly primal, breathtakingly beautiful and utterly profane. Films are actively voyeuristic, and if made especially skilfully, they momentarily turn us all into Peeping Toms, and some truly rarefied films, do the very opposite, they stare deeply into the viewer, pitilessly probing our viscera and brain flesh like a mortician; this is just such a paradigm shifting work. Feher's Twilight is quite unlike any crime film I can recall seeing, Jean Cocteau on tainted Ketamine, an unholy guttural shriek of despair condensed to the deathly smothering consistency of icy concrete.