Malefic (2003) is half of a two disk self-proclaimed B Movie Theater Drive-In Double Feature. Where do I begin? Hmmm, how about at the beginning. A young couple is parked, hears noises, and decides to go into a cabin. She gets very naked, then he goes outside to check on some noise and is eaten, she naturally goes outside to feed herself to whatever ate him.. Ooops, this wasn't a good way to start, as this has nothing to do with the story.

I'll try again. Our narrator, a female dominatrix and three of her friends are driving down a country road. Seems they are on their way to a country cabin to perpetrate the rest of their crime. Part one was exhuming the body of a recently deceased baby. Part two will be holding the casket for ransom. When they make the call to the bereaved father, who actually killed the baby but had friends in the coroners office, Dawn Duburger is in his bed. She takes off her top to get dressed and leave after hearing the phone call, so he strangles her quick before his wife gets home.

Damn, that really doesn't have much to do with the film either. Ok, these four people are hanging out in a cabin working on this really bizarre blackmail thing, and use an Ouija board to summon up a paper mache catfish head that devours them all. Yup, that's what the plot is. You may wonder why I put the owl in the upper left of the images? Because it looked so much cooler than the paper mache catfish head, and had just as much to do with the plot as two of the three naked actresses.

Speaking of naked actresses, we have Sequoia Rose Fuller as the superfluous gratuitous catfish food in the opening scene. She shows everything, including a major league nipple ring, and a labia stud. Dawn Duburger, as the mistress of the superfluous baby killer, shows breasts and buns. Cynder Moon, as one of the four, shows breasts early in the film, then everything in a bath, death and reincarnation scene.

The entire thing is grainy black and white, lit with flashlights and hand held 100 Watt lightbulbs in aluminum utility reflectors. Voice over portions of the sound are ok, but I found the bad human imitations of bird calls a little distracting. In case you hadn't already figured it out, this is a clear F. I will say, that if the film maker can build up a large body of work this bad, he might achieve an Ed Wood type of fame.

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  • Cynder Moon (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55)
  • Dawn Duvurger (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6)
  • Sequoia Rose Fuller (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32)

    "The Innocent"

    The Innocent (1993) stars Campbell Scott as a young engineer sent to post WW ll Berlin to work on a secret project, Isabella Rossellini as a German girl he falls in love with, and Anthony Hopkins as the head of security for the American top secret project that Scott is assigned to. I really wanted to like this film, and Rossellini portrayed a girl any of us would have fallen in love with, but the film just didn't work. Part of the problem was that Scott's character was plain as milk toast and as exciting as watching paint dry. Hopkins could have saved the day with a more entertaining portrayal. The elements of a good yarn were assembled. Would the Russians figure out what the Americans were up to? Would Scott and Rossellini live happily ever after? How would they dispose of the corpse of Rossellini's recently deceased husband? Then there is the return to present day Berlin, where the lovers reunite against the backdrop of the Berlin Wall coming down. Unfortunately, the whole is less than the sum of its parts.

    Rossellini shows a breast during a sex scene. IMDB readers have this at 5.2 of 10. Ebert liked it at 3 stars, Berardinelli awarded two, and I will give it a C-. Could have been very good, but somehow wasn't.

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  • Isabella Rossellini (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)

  • Johnny Web (Uncle Scoopy)

    Game of Pleasure (1998):

    Four degrees of Suckeration.

    You know, the verb "to suck" has taken over the world. When I used to say, a couple of decades ago, "I suck at Asteroids", women actually got offended. Now everyone says it on family shows and "Meet the Press". The only thing they haven't adopted from our old 1960's New York/Jersey slang is the traditional "this" response. Example. The priest says "Dominus vobiscum", and you say "Dominus THIS, Padre", and grab your crotch. This works on all occasions and as a response to any comment. (Or, as an alternative, you can grab your crotch and say "I got your Dominus right here, Padre", but my friends found this variant too verbose.). To relate this to the "suck" verb, one guy would say "your cigar sucks", and the other guy would grab his crotch and say "suck THIS", and there you have plenty of merriment and an instant Algonquin Round Table of witty repartee for all occasions.

    Now my point here is that the co-opting of "suck" by the mainstream culture leads to a lack of gradations. Is it fair to say that Cher's singing sucks, when this is the same way you would describe Yoko Ono? Of course not. So I therefore propose four degrees of suckeration. To stay on the musician theme for a minute, here's how it would work.

    First degree of suckeration. People who are OK, but not really as good as you might expect from the success they've achieved. An example would be Jewel. If you got all your cousins together, Jewel would sing about as well as the best one. She has a pleasant voice, can carry a tune, knows some guitar chords, looks good. She's OK, you just can't quite figure out why she's a star and 100 million other equally talented women are not.

    Second degree of suckeration, people who really aren't good enough to be doing this professionally at all. If you assembled your cousins together and had a karaoke contest, they would finish in the middle of the pack. Cher and Jerry Vale would be in this category.

    Third degree of suckeration, people who don't have a clue how to do what they are supposed to be professionals at. Your most incompetent cousin could do it as well. Sid Vicious belongs in this group.

    Fourth degree of suckeration, people who are so bad that they not only can't do what they are supposed to be good at, but they cause nausea and/or laughter when they try to do it. If these people were your cousins, you wouldn't even admit it. And if you had a family karaoke contest, you'd have a kindly aunt distract them to another room to look at baby pictures. Examples would include Carol Channing, Yoko Ono, and Shatner.

    Shatner is an excellent illustration of this principle, because you might casually say "Bill Shatner sucks as an actor" and/or "Bill Shatner sucks as a singer", but the word "suck" doesn't really mean the same thing in both sentences, does it? As an actor he's only a first degree suck. As a singer, he's not only guilty of fourth degree suckeration, but he could actually be in the fifth degree, since he pretty much sucks deeper and harder than anybody has ever sucked in the history of music. In fact, if Shatner had lived before the age of recording, and your great grandpa told you how bad he was, you would think the old boy was exaggerating. Even if you believed your gramps, you would not be capable of imaging how bad it was, because there is nothing else as bad to compare it to. If the recordings of Shatner did not exist, we could not conceive of anything that bad. In a sense, ol' Kirk, as much as Newton and Freud, stretched the very boundaries of human conceptualization.

    We owe him so much.

    All of that brings us around to the topic of Game of Pleasure, which not merely sucks, but sucks in the fourth degree and beyond. It is up there in Shatner territory, in that I can't really describe how bad it sucks, because it is not possible to find something to compare it to.

    It is sort of a horror/thriller thing, I guess. It's one of those deals where a guy has a dream, and we think that is real until he wakes up. Then we think that is real, until he wakes up again, and we realize that his previous waking was only part of the dream. And we think that is real until he wakes up again, and we realize that all previous wakings were only part of the dream. This happens a few times until the story finally jumps back to the same scene we saw 40 minutes earlier, where Our Hero sits mesmerized by a computer, and we realize that none of it was a dream at all, but rather a particularly hypnotic virtual reality game.

     And ... (here is the big kicker) ...

     .... he may still be playing it.

    Or he may still be dreaming about playing it.

    Or the dream about playing the game might actually be part of the game.

    Or it might not.

    Hard to say.

    The director is somebody called Dale E. Franz, who doesn't seem to have done anything else in show business before or after this video. I assume that Dale, wherever he is now, presumably plus-selling French Fries, does not admit that he was involved in this. One can only hope that if he decides to make another amateurish camcorder film, he will read all the instructions on the camera box, and not just the one about removing the lens cap. If he can clear that hurdle, perhaps he can hire some actors to make his next movie, instead of making it with his fellow workers at the drive-through window.

    I'm pretty sure that Dale is still alive, because exactly one IMDb voter scored this film higher than five, and that voter scored it a 10 out of 10. It's a fairly safe conclusion that the voter in question was none other than Dale E. Frantz.

    The film does have some plusses, of a kind:

    1. I finally got so see Mandy Leigh in something. Our old pal Celebrity Sleuth has featured Mandy several times in his magazine, and I've always wanted to see some evidence that Mandy is, in fact, a celebrity, somebody famous for something other than posing in that magazine. Of course, I don't mind looking at the pictures of her. She is very pretty, has a great tush, a beautiful head of hair, and lovely a-cup breasts. Given her good looks, one might wonder why she doesn't have any other career. Unless one has seen this film. She's in this movie, and her performance here shows why she hasn't been in anything since. I don't know if she's the worst actress I've ever seen, because I've seen a bunch of them, but no worse performance comes immediately to mind.

    2. If you're a fan of Queen-B Tammy Parks, here's another chance to see her naked.

    3. The film is only about 60 minutes long. I would normally complain that a film that short is a rip-off, but some things are better when shorter, like time spent in Purgatory, and time spent watching this film.



    Various stuff:

    • Kristi Frank is one of the contestants on the red-hot new reality show, The Apprentice. Earlier in her career, she was in an episode of Red Shoe Diaries. I personally did some caps from this episode many years ago. I looked around for that DVD, but I don't have it, so you'll have to make do with my old caps, (which are not bad, but are clumsy), and some from an old-time contributor from the earliest days of the site - The Anonymous Guy. If you remember The Anonymous Guy, you've really been hangin' around here for a while. (1, 2, 3) Between the three collages, you have all three B's.

    • This has been passed around the web as a cap of Chloe Sevigny in The Brown Bunny. Of course, it is obviously not Chloe. To the best of our knowledge, it is Elisabetta Cavallotti in a movie called Guardami. a 1999 Italian movie which is loosely based on the life of porn star Moana Pozzi.

    • Here's another picture of pop star Billie Piper, who was caught by a paparazzo while she was sunbathing topless.

    • Callie Thorne in The Wire, as captured by Seor Piel (1, 2)



    You might want to look at this one first (hint-hint):

    • Fourth Annual Weblog Awards Nominate your favorite weblogs for the Bloggie awards to be presented at SXSW Interactive. You could nominate, for example, Other Crap (, in five or ten categories, and/or you could nominate sites that actually deserve to win.

    We now return to our broadcast:

    Other Crap archives. May also include newer material than the ones above, since it's sorta in real time.

    Click here to submit a URL for inclusion in Other Crap




    Here are the latest movie reviews available at

    • The yellow asterisks indicate that I wrote the review, and am deluded into thinking it includes humor.
    • If there is a white asterisk, it means that there isn't any significant humor, but I inexplicably determined there might be something else of interest.
    • A blue asterisk indicates the review is written by Tuna (or Junior or Brainscan, or somebody else besides me)
    • If there is no asterisk, I wrote it, but am too ashamed to admit it.

    Angie Everhart Bikini tops, tight shirts and some partial night-time nudity on an episode of "Celebrity Mole".

    Brooke Burns The model/actress and host of the NBC show "Dog Eat Dog" showing off some cleavage during a guest appearance on the the UPN show "Rock Me Baby".

    Bobbie Phillips The beautiful B-movie and TV regular showing off a bunch of cleavage from an early 90's episode of "Married... with Children".

    Pam Grier
    (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13)

    The original, ultra-busty queen of 70's blacksploitation showing off her amazing chest in scenes from "Friday Foster" (1975). 'Caps by Crimson Ghost.

    Kate Winslet The "Titanic" star shows everything in scenes from the UK movie "Iris" (2001).

    Serena Grandi
    (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22)

    The Italian actress bares all and gets it on for real in scenes from the Tinto Brass movie "Miranda" (1985). Of course, since it's a Tinto movie, that means tons of views from the rear and gyno-cams.

    Cynda Williams
    (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)

    The busty actress and former wife of Billy Bob Thornton showing off her big'uns in a love scene from the movie "Caught Up" (1998). 'Caps by the Skin-man.