This silly video has five vignettes, all posing as letters being read by a busty erotica writer who hangs around her house half naked. "Games People Play" involves a strip poker game that degenerates into truth or sexual dare, and finally just sex. "Chalk It Up" has a couple playing pool for fun and finally just sex. "The Business Trip" involves a female scientist at a convention who can hear the people next door in the hotel make love, she befriends them, and finally just sex. "Lap Dance" has a car salesman obsessed with a stripper, who likes him too, and finally just sex. "Madelyn's Laundry" involves a fashion designer who models lingerie when a stranger walks in on her, she sells him some clothing, and finally just sex.
The acting here is atrocious and the stories have no basis in reality, as well as some of the females' bust sizes. The director is careful not to make any of the stories interesting, and succeeds. "Erotic Confessions: Pleasure" is softcore drivel of the lowest caliber, and makes "Red Shoe Diaries" look like "Casablanca."
Monday, April 27, 2026
The Cremator (1969)
On "The Cremator" (1969)
The Nazis decided the Jews would burn
A Czech man, mad and calm, would fit the bill
Party members' respect he would now earn
When he started with familial swill
Grotesque angles and characters abound
Centered on the repulsive man named Karl
A moral man easily led around
As background townspeople bicker and snarl
Haunted by the dead whom he turned to ash
Having his blood drawn to check for disease
He's too insane to think his actions rash
He's a savior, kill with conscience ease
Caskets and ovens and those graveyard walks
Disappointed with family he thinks
Visits to prostitutes mostly to talk
He combs the corpses' hair, their cheeks are pink
"The Cremator" builds on repetition
What a sigh you hear when the film is done
The Nazis decided the Jews would burn
A Czech man, mad and calm, would fit the bill
Party members' respect he would now earn
When he started with familial swill
Grotesque angles and characters abound
Centered on the repulsive man named Karl
A moral man easily led around
As background townspeople bicker and snarl
Haunted by the dead whom he turned to ash
Having his blood drawn to check for disease
He's too insane to think his actions rash
He's a savior, kill with conscience ease
Caskets and ovens and those graveyard walks
Disappointed with family he thinks
Visits to prostitutes mostly to talk
He combs the corpses' hair, their cheeks are pink
"The Cremator" builds on repetition
What a sigh you hear when the film is done
The Death Train (1978)
Clematis, New South Wales, Australia has seen some problems, one of them being the script to this television film. Insurance investigator Ted Morrow (Hugh Keays-Byrne) arrives in town to look into the death of one of the local homosexuals. It seems the old boy was walking home one night when he was struck by a train. The problem is the closest set of train tracks is fifty miles away. Dead Herbie's (Colin Taylor) lover, Johnny (Max Meldrum), mourns the loss and prepares to sell the house they shared to local construction company owner Murdoch (Brian Wenzel). Morrow begins checking into the case.
Morrow finds out Herbie's father and grandfather also died under mysterious circumstances. Also, when Morrow arrives in town, entire crowds of townsfolk appear and disappear right in front of his eyes. With the help of convenient love interest Vera (Ingrid Mason), Morrow and local cop McMasters (Ken Goodlet) set their sights on Murdoch. Johnny holds a seance and senses his dead lover is angry at him for wanting to sell the house, evident by a hurled glass against a wall. As Murdoch closes in on the land deal, Morrow closes in on the truth.
"Fine, Charles, but what about the disappearing crowds? The seance? Herbie's dead ancestors? Are all these plot points tied together into a neat "X Files"-type finale?"
I'm glad you asked, poodle. In a word, no.
Morrow is a quirky enough detective, trying to quit smoking by never lighting the ever present cigarette in his mouth. He must catch rides with Vera because he cannot afford the taxi service in the small town. He also bares a striking resemblance to porn star Ron Jeremy, which adds to the fun when discussions of long tube-like modes of transportation pop up. However, the screenwriter and the director never address any other supernatural goings-on except to prove a ghost train does not exist. No reason is given, the film just ends.
"The Death Train" plays like an unsuccessful pilot for a "The Night Stalker" type show (it came out in 1978). It is also an hour long crime drama stretched beyond its comprehension limits to ninety eight minutes. It was solid average until I started questioning the wheres and whys when the thing ended.
You won't die if you take out "The Death Train," but you will experience motion sickness. This is just another lazy effort, and surprising that no one bothered to read the script closely or edit it correctly. Leave it at the station.
Morrow finds out Herbie's father and grandfather also died under mysterious circumstances. Also, when Morrow arrives in town, entire crowds of townsfolk appear and disappear right in front of his eyes. With the help of convenient love interest Vera (Ingrid Mason), Morrow and local cop McMasters (Ken Goodlet) set their sights on Murdoch. Johnny holds a seance and senses his dead lover is angry at him for wanting to sell the house, evident by a hurled glass against a wall. As Murdoch closes in on the land deal, Morrow closes in on the truth.
"Fine, Charles, but what about the disappearing crowds? The seance? Herbie's dead ancestors? Are all these plot points tied together into a neat "X Files"-type finale?"
I'm glad you asked, poodle. In a word, no.
Morrow is a quirky enough detective, trying to quit smoking by never lighting the ever present cigarette in his mouth. He must catch rides with Vera because he cannot afford the taxi service in the small town. He also bares a striking resemblance to porn star Ron Jeremy, which adds to the fun when discussions of long tube-like modes of transportation pop up. However, the screenwriter and the director never address any other supernatural goings-on except to prove a ghost train does not exist. No reason is given, the film just ends.
"The Death Train" plays like an unsuccessful pilot for a "The Night Stalker" type show (it came out in 1978). It is also an hour long crime drama stretched beyond its comprehension limits to ninety eight minutes. It was solid average until I started questioning the wheres and whys when the thing ended.
You won't die if you take out "The Death Train," but you will experience motion sickness. This is just another lazy effort, and surprising that no one bothered to read the script closely or edit it correctly. Leave it at the station.
Saturday, April 25, 2026
Twin Towers (2003)
John Vigiano was one of New York City's most decorated firefighters. He was proud when his namesake, John Jr., joined the fire department, and younger son Joseph became a member of the police emergency rescue unit. Then September 11, 2001 happened, and John Vigiano lost two of his sons in a span of minutes at the World Trade Center. "Twin Towers" is one of the thousands of stories from that day.
Producer Dick Wolf shot a reality show pilot centering around one of New York City's police emergency rescue units. The two dozen unit members are an extended family, and are called upon to do everything from S.W.A.T.-like arrests to water and air rescues. The men are close knit, but Joseph Vigiano stood out. He had been shot five times on two different occasions in the line of duty, a bulletproof vest saving his life each time. He is rather quiet in front of the cameras, talking enthusiastically about how much he loves his job. He also is sure to kiss his three young sons goodbye before he goes to work each day, just in case the unthinkable would happen.
On September 1st, 2001, Joseph's infant son was baptized. Ten days later, the unthinkable did happen. Joseph called his father on a cell phone, telling him he was headed to the World Trade Center. After the towers' collapse, another co-worker called the cell phone, and got a male voice. It was an EMT worker, who had no idea where the cell phone's owner was. It was confirmed that both Joseph, and his older brother, were killed in the collapse while trying to get people out. Fourteen officers from Joseph's unit alone died.
John Vigiano's pain is almost unbearable to watch. He talks about passing on what he learned about having a life-threatening career- no matter what the fight or how you feel, kiss your loved ones goodbye no matter what, in case something happens. His pride at raising two competing brothers who drove him crazy sometimes before becoming heroes on that day is uplifting.
"Twin Towers" is both a reference to the World Trade Center, and these two men who were lost. The filmmakers spend most of their time on Joseph, since his unit was the subject of the television pilot. The film is just thirty four minutes, and I would have liked to see more about Joseph and John Jr. The directors do incorporate news footage from that day, and it still puts a lump to my throat. The Vigiano boys died heroically. This film is small, tells its story, and leaves the viewer wanting more. Not only more about these men, but wanting to get that day back. Wanting to know something about all three thousand people who lost their lives that day. It takes a film like "Twin Towers" to remind us that politicians and their spin, petty family problems, and all the other little things that seem so big now are in fact meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
September 11, 2001 was just another day until the first plane hit. Doesn't today seem like "just another day," too? How about yesterday? Last week? We can prepare for the worst, hope for the best, and forgive the small differences- almost impossible advice in this day and age.
Producer Dick Wolf shot a reality show pilot centering around one of New York City's police emergency rescue units. The two dozen unit members are an extended family, and are called upon to do everything from S.W.A.T.-like arrests to water and air rescues. The men are close knit, but Joseph Vigiano stood out. He had been shot five times on two different occasions in the line of duty, a bulletproof vest saving his life each time. He is rather quiet in front of the cameras, talking enthusiastically about how much he loves his job. He also is sure to kiss his three young sons goodbye before he goes to work each day, just in case the unthinkable would happen.
On September 1st, 2001, Joseph's infant son was baptized. Ten days later, the unthinkable did happen. Joseph called his father on a cell phone, telling him he was headed to the World Trade Center. After the towers' collapse, another co-worker called the cell phone, and got a male voice. It was an EMT worker, who had no idea where the cell phone's owner was. It was confirmed that both Joseph, and his older brother, were killed in the collapse while trying to get people out. Fourteen officers from Joseph's unit alone died.
John Vigiano's pain is almost unbearable to watch. He talks about passing on what he learned about having a life-threatening career- no matter what the fight or how you feel, kiss your loved ones goodbye no matter what, in case something happens. His pride at raising two competing brothers who drove him crazy sometimes before becoming heroes on that day is uplifting.
"Twin Towers" is both a reference to the World Trade Center, and these two men who were lost. The filmmakers spend most of their time on Joseph, since his unit was the subject of the television pilot. The film is just thirty four minutes, and I would have liked to see more about Joseph and John Jr. The directors do incorporate news footage from that day, and it still puts a lump to my throat. The Vigiano boys died heroically. This film is small, tells its story, and leaves the viewer wanting more. Not only more about these men, but wanting to get that day back. Wanting to know something about all three thousand people who lost their lives that day. It takes a film like "Twin Towers" to remind us that politicians and their spin, petty family problems, and all the other little things that seem so big now are in fact meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
September 11, 2001 was just another day until the first plane hit. Doesn't today seem like "just another day," too? How about yesterday? Last week? We can prepare for the worst, hope for the best, and forgive the small differences- almost impossible advice in this day and age.
The Sugarland Express (1974)
Steven Spielberg's first theatrical film shows some signs of things to come.
Lou Jean Poplin (Goldie Hawn) has recently been released from jail after serving eight months for larceny. Her husband, Clovis (William Atherton), has just four months left on his sentence, but there is a problem. Their toddler son has been taken by welfare and placed in a foster home. Lou Jean comes up with a scheme to break Clovis out of prison. The couple hitches a ride, but are pulled over by highway patrolman Slide (Michael Sacks). They panic, run, wreck, and kidnap the law officer and hijack his patrol car. Tough captain Tanner (Ben Johnson) begins negotiations with the pair, with about two dozen police cars on their trail. Lou Jean has pie-in-the-sky dreams of getting their child and living happily ever after, but Clovis and Slide know otherwise.
Spielberg uses southern Texas locations to the fullest extent. I'm familiar with the area where the film takes place, and the only problems I found were geographical- "Sugar Land" is actually two words, and not anywhere near a ten minute drive from the Mexican border. Vilmos Zigmond's cinematography is lovely without calling attention to itself, and John Williams' score is great, not a French horn in sight. This is a gritty film, different from the clean looks of some of his films.
While Goldie Hawn is the top billed star here, the film really feels like a team effort. Lou Jean is in her own little dream land, and Clovis is not much smarter. These two are not Bonnie and Clyde, murderers romanticized to make a good flick. Maxwell Slide does not simply give in to the couple's charm, trying to escape when he can, but also getting to know the pair eventually. While the "criminal as populist hero" routine has been done before, Spielberg shows some incredible confidence behind the camera. As in "Duel," every supporting character seems to have a story of their own which never crowds the main narrative. Tanner has personal problems, and is sometimes seen as weak by his men. Lou Jean's crotchety father wants to take her over his knee. The two old snipers called in to end the chase are professional yet normal. Even the child's foster parents try not to fold under the pressure, a middle aged couple who love this angelic child in their care. Spielberg lets them all have moments, and he shows he can deal with adult actors. Spielberg also generates some suspense, especially the finale, another trait found in "Duel," and his next film, "Jaws." I would love to see him go back to this kind of simple film making, forget the effects, forget the kids, just make an out-and-out Hitchcockian or even horror thriller.
If you are a Spielberg nut, you simply must get "The Sugarland Express" for your collection. Spielberg is now an icon, as famous as his films, and it is great to see where his film roots began.
Lou Jean Poplin (Goldie Hawn) has recently been released from jail after serving eight months for larceny. Her husband, Clovis (William Atherton), has just four months left on his sentence, but there is a problem. Their toddler son has been taken by welfare and placed in a foster home. Lou Jean comes up with a scheme to break Clovis out of prison. The couple hitches a ride, but are pulled over by highway patrolman Slide (Michael Sacks). They panic, run, wreck, and kidnap the law officer and hijack his patrol car. Tough captain Tanner (Ben Johnson) begins negotiations with the pair, with about two dozen police cars on their trail. Lou Jean has pie-in-the-sky dreams of getting their child and living happily ever after, but Clovis and Slide know otherwise.
Spielberg uses southern Texas locations to the fullest extent. I'm familiar with the area where the film takes place, and the only problems I found were geographical- "Sugar Land" is actually two words, and not anywhere near a ten minute drive from the Mexican border. Vilmos Zigmond's cinematography is lovely without calling attention to itself, and John Williams' score is great, not a French horn in sight. This is a gritty film, different from the clean looks of some of his films.
While Goldie Hawn is the top billed star here, the film really feels like a team effort. Lou Jean is in her own little dream land, and Clovis is not much smarter. These two are not Bonnie and Clyde, murderers romanticized to make a good flick. Maxwell Slide does not simply give in to the couple's charm, trying to escape when he can, but also getting to know the pair eventually. While the "criminal as populist hero" routine has been done before, Spielberg shows some incredible confidence behind the camera. As in "Duel," every supporting character seems to have a story of their own which never crowds the main narrative. Tanner has personal problems, and is sometimes seen as weak by his men. Lou Jean's crotchety father wants to take her over his knee. The two old snipers called in to end the chase are professional yet normal. Even the child's foster parents try not to fold under the pressure, a middle aged couple who love this angelic child in their care. Spielberg lets them all have moments, and he shows he can deal with adult actors. Spielberg also generates some suspense, especially the finale, another trait found in "Duel," and his next film, "Jaws." I would love to see him go back to this kind of simple film making, forget the effects, forget the kids, just make an out-and-out Hitchcockian or even horror thriller.
If you are a Spielberg nut, you simply must get "The Sugarland Express" for your collection. Spielberg is now an icon, as famous as his films, and it is great to see where his film roots began.
Surfer, Dude (2008)
I don't know if this is a lark. I don't know if we are supposed to take it seriously. I don't know how much marijuana was actually consumed during production. I do know that "Surfer, Dude" is an uninteresting mess that does not bring enough laughs.
Matthew McConaughey is ace surfer Steve Addington, returning to the United States from an extended surfing vacation overseas. His sponsoring company has been bought by former surfer Eddie Zarno (Jeffrey Nordling), who is cashing in on Addington and others with a virtual reality computer game and stupid reality television series. All of this harshes Addington's mellow, as a sudden wave drought threatens his mental well-being. After his equally high manager Jack (a pretty good Woody Harrelson) is tossed in jail, Addington is slowly squeezed financially by Zarno. Will he cave in and sign with Zarno as the world turns against him, or will he stick to his morals?
No, "Surfer, Dude" is not the first stoner comedy, or the first surfing comedy, but it is one of the strangest. Dope comedy can be funny, and this gets some laughs when Addington and his buddies- all of whom blend into each other and bore quickly- are pulled over by the cops. A scene after the end credits involving Addington and a Korean sponsor should have been the whole movie. Instead of many missed opportunities, we get tons of shots of McConaughey staring out to sea with onscreen titles telling us how long the wave drought has gone. Not exactly comedic gold. Harrelson, as Addington's manager with a lawn mowing business on the side, is actually pretty funny. Addington's minimalist lifestyle and clueless ideas about money is entertaining, but McConaughey is so laid back he almost puts the viewer to sleep. The rest of the cast includes names like Scott Glenn and Willie Nelson, but everyone looks so high, and refers to each other as dude or bro so often, I finally gave up on a linear plot and laughs and just patiently waited for it to end.
Bindler's direction sure likes McConaughey's shirtless physique. The cinematography has a grimy look to it, even though most of it takes place on the beach. The reality TV and virtual reality game angles never work, and when Addington's friends turn against him, you really don't care because they seem like a bunch of shallow hangers-on anyway. Hope you like reggae, as the music pulses and lurches, but never adds anything.
"Surfer, Dude" (one of the worst titles in the history of cinema- for fun and to annoy others, be sure to place a pregnant pause where the comma is) isn't completely rotten, but I wish McConaughey had pulled a few more Hollywood strings to get a decent movie made. It's sad when your surfing philosophy was made more understandable using a bunch of penguins in "Surf's Up."
Matthew McConaughey is ace surfer Steve Addington, returning to the United States from an extended surfing vacation overseas. His sponsoring company has been bought by former surfer Eddie Zarno (Jeffrey Nordling), who is cashing in on Addington and others with a virtual reality computer game and stupid reality television series. All of this harshes Addington's mellow, as a sudden wave drought threatens his mental well-being. After his equally high manager Jack (a pretty good Woody Harrelson) is tossed in jail, Addington is slowly squeezed financially by Zarno. Will he cave in and sign with Zarno as the world turns against him, or will he stick to his morals?
No, "Surfer, Dude" is not the first stoner comedy, or the first surfing comedy, but it is one of the strangest. Dope comedy can be funny, and this gets some laughs when Addington and his buddies- all of whom blend into each other and bore quickly- are pulled over by the cops. A scene after the end credits involving Addington and a Korean sponsor should have been the whole movie. Instead of many missed opportunities, we get tons of shots of McConaughey staring out to sea with onscreen titles telling us how long the wave drought has gone. Not exactly comedic gold. Harrelson, as Addington's manager with a lawn mowing business on the side, is actually pretty funny. Addington's minimalist lifestyle and clueless ideas about money is entertaining, but McConaughey is so laid back he almost puts the viewer to sleep. The rest of the cast includes names like Scott Glenn and Willie Nelson, but everyone looks so high, and refers to each other as dude or bro so often, I finally gave up on a linear plot and laughs and just patiently waited for it to end.
Bindler's direction sure likes McConaughey's shirtless physique. The cinematography has a grimy look to it, even though most of it takes place on the beach. The reality TV and virtual reality game angles never work, and when Addington's friends turn against him, you really don't care because they seem like a bunch of shallow hangers-on anyway. Hope you like reggae, as the music pulses and lurches, but never adds anything.
"Surfer, Dude" (one of the worst titles in the history of cinema- for fun and to annoy others, be sure to place a pregnant pause where the comma is) isn't completely rotten, but I wish McConaughey had pulled a few more Hollywood strings to get a decent movie made. It's sad when your surfing philosophy was made more understandable using a bunch of penguins in "Surf's Up."
Surrender (2000)
Lauren (Kira Reed) is tracking a spirit, a spirit that is making your average, ordinary folk turn into sexual monsters. The spirit has been nicknamed Eros, and Lauren experienced it after breaking up with a boyfriend and almost loving up a stranger in a parking lot. She then interviews people who also share her experiences, but find the chain of lust suddenly broken until her hot-to-trot roomie finds the spirit again.
This is not any sort of mystery or investigation as much as it is a lot of sexy scenes and badly decorated sets. All the women here are beautiful, the men are hunky, the soundtrack is appropriately laden with saxophones, but everything about this film has an air of familiarity to it. The script is a disaster- the storyline tries to engage the viewer on a level other than wanting to see women in thongs. The acting is above par for this kind of project, but the special effects are of the Video Toaster variety, and no conclusion is ever reached. This will anger anyone who must sit through ninety minutes of this, hoping something new will be tried. The sex is all softcore, there are a couple of shots where the actors' "socks" are evident.
"Surrender" is run-of-the-mill straight-to-video softcore sex. If you are hoping for some sort of "The X Files"-spin on a tried and tired genre, look elsewhere.
This is not any sort of mystery or investigation as much as it is a lot of sexy scenes and badly decorated sets. All the women here are beautiful, the men are hunky, the soundtrack is appropriately laden with saxophones, but everything about this film has an air of familiarity to it. The script is a disaster- the storyline tries to engage the viewer on a level other than wanting to see women in thongs. The acting is above par for this kind of project, but the special effects are of the Video Toaster variety, and no conclusion is ever reached. This will anger anyone who must sit through ninety minutes of this, hoping something new will be tried. The sex is all softcore, there are a couple of shots where the actors' "socks" are evident.
"Surrender" is run-of-the-mill straight-to-video softcore sex. If you are hoping for some sort of "The X Files"-spin on a tried and tired genre, look elsewhere.
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