48 hrs is all they’ve got to catch 2 killers.  Unfortunately, they can’t stand each other. One’s a cop with a temper and bad fashion sense, the other’s a con with a mouth and in need of sex.  Together these two  are pure chaos.

48 Hrs.” — A Wild Ride Through Crime, Comedy, and Chaos

OK ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, trans men and trans women, plus the non-binary option.  You need to hold onto your heads and keep your man bun hair clip handy, ’cause we’re rollercoastering into the 1982 buddy-cop blockbuster before “buddy-cop” was even a genre.   It’s the movie, 48 Hrs.! Set in San Francisco before human poop lined all the streets, it still managed to avoid being a typical Sunday afternoon stroll.   No… No…  No..  This is two days of madness, mayhem, and machine guns with extra hot sauce.

Directed by Walter Hill.  For this movie, he was the guy who took a film camera and asked the studio executives, “What if we made Clint Eastwood run a marathon of testosterone?”  A movie legend was made that day and 48 Hrs. is what you get when stick a cop and a criminal in a blender and hit “frappe.”  This is Eddie Murphy in his silver screen debut, and oh baby, the man does not just dip his toe in the water.  It’s his big chance and he cannonballs into the Hollywood pool wearing a prison clothes and singing The Police.

Nick Nolte is Jack Cates.

He’s a gruff, gravel-throated detective who looks like he eats broken glass for breakfast and washes it down with Jack Daniels. He’s a walking hangover with a badge, and he’s trying to catch a pair of psycho criminals who make Charles Manson look a Care Bear.  Normally he’s the man to get the job done but this time he needs help from a slick-talking criminal named Reggie Hammond.  Eddie Murphy enters the stage left with a laugh, a presence that has you forget that you’re watching a cop movie and think you’re watching stand-up at the Apollo.

There’s just one problem, they’ve only got 48 hours to catch the bad guys.  Yup, two days…. Just one weekend. That’s almost less time than it takes for Trump to destroy the stock market and these guys are chasing murderers, dodging bullets, and learning to love each other.

It’s a classic toxic masculinity bromance !

48 hrs is all about grit, balls, and glorious one-liners.  It’s so hardcore ‘80s that you can still smell the Aqua Net and hear the synthesizers. And Eddie Murphy is the cherry on top.  He’s the Cindy Lauper in the Madonna martini bar. He didn’t just steal the scenes but instead mugged the entire movie and rode off on a laugh.

But beneath the wisecracks and gunfights, 48 Hrs. kicked off a whole genre.  It’s the original mismatched duo, forced to work together, each one rubbing off on the other like sandpaper. There would probably never have been a Lethal Weapon, Rush Hour, or Bad Boys franchise, without Cates and Hammond trail blazing the way.

So if you haven’t 48 hrs,  grab some popcorn and take a ride in a beat-up car with a lunatic at the wheel with a con man riding shotgun. 48 Hrs. isn’t just a movie. Is early-’80s madness and baby, it’s fucking awesome

Here’s some late ’80s Robocop insanity

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The Nude Bomb is funny surprise, much finding a tuna sandwich in the glovebox of your car.  Before watching I advise that you strap in and zip up or maybe don’t zip up to truly be in the spirit of the movie. This is cinematic acid trip which deserves a review with all the chaotic energy of a triple espresso shot with an overdoes of Viagra

So what is “The Nude Bomb”? Well, you can start by imagining James Bond and Inspector Gadget had a baby, and then left it at a daycare run by Roger Rabbit.  It’s a spy comedy starring Don Adams, reprising his legendary role as Maxwell Smart — a man so clueless, he makes a Joe Bidon look like Sherlock Holmes. He’s got the trench coat, the shoe phone  and enough dry one-liners to desiccate an Egyptian mummy. But this time, he’s not fighting KAOS with bullets or brains — no sir — he’s going after a villain who wants to explode everyone’s clothes off. That’s right. It’s not a metaphor. It’s a literal bomb that nukes your underpants!

The villain is a baddie named Nudo — very subtle and very Bond-esque.   He’s built the ultimate weapon of mass undress destruction. This guy is like if Dr. No watched too many Hustler porn movies and said, “Yes, this is my origin story.” However, instead of taking over the world with lasers or robots, he’s decided, “Let’s get rid of clothes! BOOM! Now you’re naked!” You gotta admire the boldness of the plot. Or maybe call Dr Susan Block for therapy. Possibly both.

The storytelling darts around like a gerbil on LSD. Maxwell Smart bumbles from one locale to another: ski resorts, fashion shows, underground lairs that look like IKEA on roids. He’s surrounded by an ensemble of agents and models and there’s even a talking typewriter at one point. The movie runs on logic on cartoon logic written by an infantile version of 80s toxic masculinity. .

Now this movie is damn funny but only you’re someone who enjoys a nostalgic high on disco fumes and wearing polyester pants.  But if you’re watching it now, stone-cold sober, you might feel like you’re being slowly attacked by dad jokes wielding banana peels. The humor is dated and from today’s perspective, it’s like being told that the Care Bares are teaming up with Dead Pool in the next sequel.

BUT! Don Adams sells it with his unforgettable his nasal delivery and eternal optimism, He’s like the weird uncle at Thanksgiving who tells the same joke every year, and dang it, you still laugh. There’s a charm, a weird nostalgic magic, like watching a roller disco ballet while blindfolded.

The Nude Bomb is a glorious, glittering missile with a happy face painted on it. It’s ridiculous. It’s nonsense. It’s got less plot than a Tiktok video. But it knows it’s ridiculous but that’s the point.   In a world of self-serious action flicks, sometimes you just need a naked bomb and a man with a shoe phone to remind you how weird things can get.

Need a laugh?  Then watch Up In Smoke

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The vampire journals has more cheese than a midnight snack at a dairy farm, but damn if it isn’t a bloody good time. The 1997 flick comes crawling out of Full Moon Entertainment, courtesy of Charles Band. – Pure 90s low-budget gothic.

Alright, listen up ! I just sat through The Vampire Journals, and let me tell ya, it’s about as subtle as a chainsaw to the face. These bloodsuckers have got more drama than a Shakespeare play performed at a goth prom. First, our hero is a brooding vampire with a piano fetish, named Zachary. His fashion sense is like Dracula spawned a goth kid with the sales clerk at Hot Topic. And if that’s not enough pop culture, his nemesis is a Dude called Ash (not the EVIL Dead, chainsaw wielder), but some Euro-trash vamp lord with a wardrobe straight out of hell from a Spawn reject bin. This Ash guy chews scenery like it’s his last meal, and honestly? I respect that. If you’re gonna be evil, go big or go home.

Then there’s Sofia, the damsel who’s got, future vampire snack, written all over her. Granted, she’s got an ‘I’m innocent but secretly powerful’ look. But she’s too busy getting hypnotized by Ash’s cheap vampire tricks. Come on, lady, snap out of it!

The effects of the vampire journals are so cheesy, you can taste them. The fangs look like they came out of a Halloween clearance bin. While the blood has less realism than making roadkill from a stuffed animal covered in ketchup. This movie knows it’s schlock, and it leans into it like a drunk on a pool table. Fog machines working overtime, slow-mo sword fights, and enough leather to make a biker gang blush. It’s like someone took Interview with the Vampire, stripped out the budget, and replaced all the angst with pure, uncut cheese. And I kinda love it.

The action’s the best part—swords clanging, vampires poofing into dust, and enough dramatic stares to fill a soap opera. It’s dumb, it’s loud, and it doesn’t give a damn. If you want a gloriously dumb, over-the-top vampire flick kick back, and enjoy the ride. Just don’t blame me if you start seeing fangs in your dreams.

Watch the start of this 5 part vampire series

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Up in Smoke is a 90-minute contact high—just don’t ask what happened after the first toke. Though it does prove two things: vans should be made of weed, and cops should never chase guys who are too stoned to care.

Up in Smoke is a Hazy, Crazy Ride Through Stoner Paradise – Man, oh man, where do I even start with Up in Smoke? It’s like, the ultimate trip, man—both literally and figuratively. This movie isn’t just a film, it’s a lifestyle, a cosmic journey through the wild, weed-fueled minds of Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong. And let me tell ya, if you ain’t seen it yet, you’re missing out on one of the greatest cinematic experiences since, like, the invention of the bong.

First off, the plot

Or what passes for one in this smoky dream scape—is simple, man. You got Cheech as Pedro de Pacas, this streetwise Chicano cat with a heart of gold and a pocket full of primo, and Chong as Anthony Stoner, the ultimate laid-back, spaced-out hippie. These two dudes meet by fate (or maybe just because they were both looking for a score), and next thing you know, they’re cruising through L.A. in a van made out of weed, man. The cops are chasing ‘em, but they’re too high to notice, and honestly, that’s the whole vibe of the movie.

The humor? Oh, it’s dumb. Gloriously, stupidly dumb. But that’s the beauty of it, man. This ain’t some highbrow comedy where you gotta think too hard. Cheech and Chong have been advocating for the legalization of all things pot related since even before this film. Having achieved glorious success, this film is a historical anthem to their efforts. Their dreams didn’t go “up in smoke”, or get lost to history.  Nor were they burnt to the ground into a tragic pile of ashes. They have left a legacy.

So leave your lighter. Grab your pot laced munchies and spend some time with the comical genius of the legends who helped you have the freedom to get high. The soundtrack is like a time capsule of ‘70s stoner rock, with Chong’s band (because of course he’s in a band) dropping tunes so smooth, you’ll go up in smoke with him, riding the hazy cloud.. The whole movie feels like a concert where the audience got too baked to leave, so they just stuck around and filmed whatever happened next.

Later, dudes and watch the Toxic Avenger

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Plan 9 from Outer Space has Aliens, Zombies, and Ed Wood’s Crippling Lack of Talent —The Only Thing Harder Than the Acting is Trying to Explain This Movie to Your Therapist!

Ladies, gentlemen, and horny extraterrestrials lurking in the back row of the drive-in—gather ‘round, because we’re about to dissect *Plan 9 from Outer Space*, the celluloid equivalent of a bow-legged hooker trying to tap-dance in quicksand. Directed by the infamous Ed Wood (who apparently filmed this while huffing model airplane glue), this 1959 “masterpiece” is so gloriously inept that it makes *Deep Throat* look like *Citizen Kane* by comparison.

The Plot (Or Lack Thereof)

Aliens—dressed like rejected Vegas lounge acts—decide to conquer Earth by resurrecting the dead as stiff, disjointed zombies. (Think a chiropractors’ nightmare or the delivery man who moves like he’s got a broomstick lodged up his backside). Their grand scheme? “Plan 9”—which, spoiler alert, is about as threatening as a vibrator with dead batteries. Our hero, a square-jawed pilot (who delivers lines like he’s reading ingredients), teams up with a cop so wooden he could’ve been carved by a Boy Scout. Brought together to combat… bad acting, mostly.

The “Special” Effects

The flying saucers are literal hubcaps dangling from visible strings. The “space” is a black sheet with glitter thrown at it by a deranged kindergarten class. And the zombies?  Bela Lugosi—God rest his soul—shot three minutes of footage before croaking, so Ed Wood just slapped a stand-in with a cape over his face and hoped nobody’d notice. Spoiler: You notice.

Why You Should Watch It (With Booze and a Willing Partner)

Here’s the thing, degenerates— Plan 9 isn’t a movie. It’s an experience. Like losing your virginity in a haunted house, it’s awkward, confusing, and over way too fast.  The sheer audacity of its incompetence is erotic in its own way. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll question humanity’s worth… and then you’ll get laid, because nothing turns a woman on like saying, “Hey baby, wanna see the worst movie ever made?”

Final Verdict: 0 Stars, 100% Boner-Inducing Chaos
If Plan 9 from outer space were a porno, it’d be the one where the plumber forgets his tools but somehow still “fixes the pipes.” It’s terrible. It’s magnificent. It’s the cinematic equivalent of catching your parents doing the nasty—you wanna look away, but you’re transfixed like a deer caught in the headlights, you brain in its panic, stopped working the controls.

So go watch it with a bottle of Jack or a joint, and someone who’ll ride you like the aliens should’ve ridden those hubcap UFOs.

Sincerely

B.S. Cinephile (The Unapologetic Masochist)

—
PS. For a real double feature, pair this with *Flesh Gordon* and a case of Schlitz. Or, a you can watch Brooke Sheilds pay an underage hooker while snorting kitty litter -You’re welcome.

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RoboCop !   Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and anyone who’s ever wondered, ” What if Dirty Harry was rebuilt by RadioShack?”

Set in a Detroit’s Dystopian future, where crime is so bad the criminals are looking for safe spaces.  Enter Omni Consumer Products (OCP), a corporation so evil they make Walmart look like a lemonade stand run by nuns. These guys have a plan: privatize the police force and replace them with RoboCop s. Because nothing says “justice” like a walking vending machine with a badge.

But wait! Before you get your ED-209 (that’s the corporate killer robot that looks like a Decepticon on stilts), there’s a human element; the RoboCop. Enter Officer Alex Murphy, who’s so wholesome he probably tucks his gun into bed at night. Murphy gets ambushed by a gang of psychopaths led by Clarence Boddicker. They blow Murphy up to the point where he’s more Swiss cheese than human.

OCP takes what’s left of Murphy—basically a spleen and a good attitude—and turn him into RoboCop, the ultimate law enforcement machine. He’s part man, part machine, and all cop. He’s like the love child of a Ford Pinto and a Terminator, with a voice that sounds like he’s been chain-smoking since the John F. Kennedy assassination.

RoboCop has got everything: satire, action, and more blood than a ketchup factory explosion. It’s like *Blade Runner* and *Die Hard* were surrogate donors for a baby raised by *Mad Max*. The violence is so over-the-top it’s almost cartoonish. People get shot, exploded, and melted in toxic waste. Begging the question, *Is this a movie or a PSA for gun control?*

The movie also takes some sharp jabs at corporate greed, media sensationalism, and the militarization of the police. Clarence Boddicker is the kind of villian who kicks puppies for fun and then bills you for it. And Dick Jones, the corporate sleazebag, is so slimy he probably sweats anal-ese. You love to hate them, and you cheer when RoboCop finally takes them down in the most spectacularly violent ways possible.

RoboCop isn’t just a shoot-’em-up.  Underneath all that chrome and circuitry, Murphy is still in there, trying to remember who he was. He’s like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz, except he’s got a gun that pops out of his leg. It’s the kind of movie that makes you gasp, and maybe even shed a tear—though that might just be from the sheer amount of shrapnel flying at the screen.

See the video Alien

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Dragonslayer emerged as a breath of smoky, fire-breathing air in a year which was filled with space operas and high-octane action flicks.

This dark fantasy epic from 1981 stunned audiences with its groundbreaking special effects, and medieval grit. Dragonslayer is a refreshingly original take on a timeless tale of heroism. A film that dares to ask: what if the dragon wasn’t just a monster, but a force of nature?

The main attraction: Vermithrax Pejorative, a classic antagonist with more than an impressive moniker. Created by Industrial Light & Magic (who gave us *Star Wars*), this dragon is a masterpiece of practical effects. Vermithrax is a creature of both beauty and terror, from its leathery wings to its glowing eyes. The beast has terrorized the land for decades, demanding virgin sacrifices to sate its hunger.

Set in the mythical kingdom with a corrupt King, the story follows young Galen (Peter MacNicol), an apprentice sorcerer. He has the task of Dragonslayer thrust upon him when his Master dies.   The inexperienced apprentice must rise to the occasion, armed with little more than a magical amulet and a lot of determination. He teams up with Valerian (Caitlin Clarke), a brave and resourceful young woman who challenges the era’s gender norms, and Tyrian (John Hallam), a skeptical knight.

What sets Dragonslayer apart from other fantasy films of its time is its commitment to realism—yes, even in a world with dragons. The film’s medieval setting feels authentic, from the muddy villages to the crumbling castles. The characters are flawed and human, and the stakes are palpable. Galen isn’t your typical swashbuckling hero; he’s awkward, unsure, and often out of his depth. This makes his journey all the more compelling, as we watch him grow into the role of a true dragonslayer.

The film’s climactic battle between Galen and the dragon is a visual feast, blending stop-motion animation, puppetry, and live-action footage in a way that feels seamless and utterly immersive. It’s no wonder Dragonslayer was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Visual Effects—it’s a technical marvel that pushes the boundaries of what’s possible on screen.  At its core, Dragonslayer is a story about courage, sacrifice, and the struggle against tyranny—both human and monstrous.

Watch The Lord of the Rings

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Blazing Saddles, is a bold, irreverent, and uproarious take on the Western genre, racism, and Hollywood itself and the least pc film you might ever find.

If you are sick of having Hollywood dictate what you can see or laugh at, you will love this timeless classic.  But if you get easily offended, this film will trigger you. Because Blazing Saddles has razor-sharp wit, and boundary-pushing humor.

From its anachronistic gags (like a jazz band performing in the Old West) to its meta-humor (the finale spills onto a Hollywood soundstage), the movie constantly surprises and delights. Blazing Saddles is a film that refuses to play by the rules. Brooks’ direction is fearless, using absurdity and exaggeration to expose the absurdity of racism and bigotry.

What makes this movie truly remarkable is its ability to tackle serious issues like racism and prejudice while maintaining a lighthearted, comedic tone. The film doesn’t shy away from using racial slurs or depicting the ignorance of its characters, but it does so with a purpose: to highlight the absurdity of racism and challenge the audience to confront their own biases. Brooks’ approach is both subversive and inclusive, using humor as a tool to unite rather than divide.

Each character adds to the film’s chaotic energy, creating a comedic ensemble that is as unforgettable as it is outrageous. While Blazing Saddles is undeniably a product of its time, its themes and humor remain relevant today. The film’s critique of systemic racism, political corruption, and Hollywood’s tendency to sanitize history feels just as potent now as it did in the 1970s.

A comedic tour de force that defies convention, Blazing Saddles challenges us to laugh at the absurdities of life. Its blend of slapstick, satire, and social commentary makes it a film that is as thought-provoking as it is hilarious. Whether you’re a fan of Westerns, comedy, or just great storytelling, Blazing Saddles is a must-watch—a film that proves laughter can be a powerful weapon against ignorance and prejudice.

See Pretty Baby

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Subspecies 4 Bloodstorm, was the last 90s instalment in the *Subspecies* series, of direct-to-video horror. Director Ted Nicolaou, once again brings together Anders Hove and Denise Duff to conclude their roles as vampire master Radu Vladislas and unwilling fledgling Michelle Morgan. While the film adheres to the low-budget aesthetic of its predecessors, it remains a compelling entry in the vampire genre, offering a mix of gothic atmosphere, moral dilemmas, and the eternal struggle between good and evil.

The story of *Subspecies 4* picks up where *Subspecies 3* left off, with Michelle Morgan grappling with her transformation into a vampire. Unlike the traditional portrayal of vampires as embracing their dark powers, Michelle is consumed by guilt and desperation, seeking a way to reverse her condition and reclaim her humanity. Denice Duff, as Michelle, delivers a nuanced performance, conveying the character’s inner turmoil and determination.  Michelle’s journey becomes one of redemption and self-discovery.

Her struggle is juxtaposed against the return of Radu, who, despite being seemingly destroyed in the previous installment, resurfaces to continue his reign of terror. Anders Hove’s portrayal of Radu remains  both menacing and theatrical. He captures the essence of a centuries-old vampire consumed by his own malevolence.  Radu’s relentless pursuit of Michelle and his obsession with power and domination underscore the film’s central theme: the corrupting influence of immortality and the moral decay that accompanies it.

While *Subspecies 4: Bloodstorm* may not have achieved critical acclaim, it has earned a dedicated following among fans of vampire horror. Its commitment to the genre, combined with its gothic aesthetic and character-driven story, sets it apart from more formulaic entries in the genre. The film’s exploration of themes such as redemption, the cost of immortality, and the battle for one’s soul adds depth to its otherwise straightforward plot. Anyone who enjoyed the original Subspecies just can’t afford to miss this installment. A satisfying resolution to the ongoing saga of Radu and Michelle, as their conflict symbolizes the broader struggle between darkness and light. For fans of gothic horror and vampire lore, the film remains a testament to the enduring appeal of low-budget, character-driven storytelling in the horror genre.

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Pretty Baby is a film by Louis Malle and is a provocative and controversial piece of cinema that continues to spark debate decades after its release. Starring a young Brooke Shields in her breakout role, the film is set in 1917 New Orleans and tells the story of Violet, a 12-year-old girl growing up in a brothel. While the film is visually stunning and thematically rich, its subject matter—centering on the sexualization of a child—has made it a lightning rod for criticism and analysis.

Pretty Baby is a coming-of-age story, based on real events taken from the memoirs of photographer E.J Bellocq. Set in an unconventional and morally fraught environment, the content of this film is disturbing. Probably because over one hundred years later, this sort of existence persists for some. Many are even disturbed by their own speculation that Brooke Shields was similarly exploited by her very involvement in this film.  Brooke Shields’ performance as Violet is both captivating and unsettling. At just 12 years old, Shields brought a haunting maturity to the role, embodying Violet’s innocence and precociousness in equal measure.

Violet’s world is the Storyville brothel, a place where vice and survival intersect. Her mother, Hattie (played by Susan Sarandon), is a prostitute, and Violet is raised amidst the chaos and camaraderie of the women who work there. The film does not shy away from depicting the harsh realities of their lives, but it also captures moments of tenderness and resilience. Malle’s direction and the cinematography by Sven Nykvist create a lush, almost dreamlike atmosphere that contrasts sharply with the grim subject matter.

One of the most striking aspects of *Pretty Baby* is its refusal to pass judgment on its characters. The women in the brothel are portrayed with empathy and nuance, their lives shaped by circumstance rather than moral failing. Hattie, in particular, is a deeply sympathetic figure, torn between her love for Violet and her desire for a better life. Sarandon’s performance is raw and compelling, adding depth to a character who could easily have been reduced to a stereotype.

Despite its artistic merits, * Pretty Baby * remains a deeply controversial film. Critics have accused it of glamorizing child exploitation and failing to adequately address the ethical implications of its subject matter. The film’s depiction of Violet’s sexualization is undeniably troubling, and it raises important questions about the responsibilities of filmmakers when dealing with sensitive topics. While Malle’s intention may have been to critique the exploitation of young girls, the line between critique and complicity is often blurred.

What seems to bother viewers the most is not the exploitation so much as the normalization of the sexual behavior. For Violet losing her virginity isn’t the act of a horny adolescent playing grown up with her boyfriend. But rather it’s a leap from innocence to full adulthood, without a proper childhood or choices.  Pretty Baby is a film that defies easy categorization. It is at once a visually stunning period piece, a poignant character study, and a deeply unsettling exploration of morality. Brooke Shields’ performance is undeniably powerful, but it also serves as a reminder of the ethical complexities inherent in telling such a story.

Young Lady Chatterley

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