~ or, Not As ‘Not Safe For Work’ As The IPC ~
I don’t do IPC-esque posts but if I did they wouldn’t be anywhere near as cool as the real deal. Each post delivers a review with a sugarcoating of female fancies (#cleavage), well-versed profanity, and unrivaled shenanigans. Much better than the Royal Mail or: some other shit ‘post’ related joke. Let’s begin!
I’m not a lover of horror. While the wiley Isaacs enjoys the lucid trash smattered throughout the B-horror movie genre, boobs an’ all, I’m akin to more simpler tastes. My collar gets ruffled by the Community adage “6 seasons and a movie” or the day the ACTUAL trailer for The Hateful Eight is released. But that isn’t to say we don’t share some similar tastes. Léon, Raising Arizona, and The Warriors (let the shameless plugging commence) happen to be three of my favouite movies also, go figure, but it’s the slow, witty burn of these three films that shape the sort of film I go for. Take Drive and Hot Rod for instance. Dry irreverent humour has me in stitches, others in tears but if there is one thing we can all relate to, it’s boobs, and oh boy does Eric know boobs #minions (contain yourself Emma).
WARNING: May contain boobs.
In fact Eric knows boobs so well that he has loaded the IPC with 8 pages worth. 175 posts all popped up when I typed ‘boobs’ into the ‘Probe Me’ box, you sir deserve a medal for boob appreciation, heck I might even make an award just for you. Owp, just did!
In honour of the IPC’s Half Ass Reviews I’ve opted to share with you my unjust one-paragraph thoughts of Jonathan Glazer’s highy divisive sci-fi drama Under the Skin starring the smouldering Scarlett Johansson. Alongside Glazer’s extra-terrestrial seductress I’ll be thunking about Russ Meyer’s Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, an ultra sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll fuelled sleaze fest. WOOPHOLLA.
Under the Skin
A confused alien hotty meanders around Glasgow looking for a cheap lay whilst ruining the Scottish food industry. Donning an alluringly sublime English accent dozy perves fall victim to her charming advances, sinking deeper and deeper into Hades’ cell of damnation. For your cerebral fix look no further than this lascivious sci-fi horror, as Netflix would say. Probably. ~ * * * ~
Beyond the Valley of the Dolls
In the land of 1970s sexploitation flicks Russ Meyer and the Roger Ebert team up to deliver an unwittingly iconic piece of satirical Americana that has stood the test of time, even if the perky boobies of ‘The Carrie Nations’ haven’t. With a plot consisting of three horny ambitious young female musicians, a jealous boyfriend engaged in an affair with a pornstar, a doolally socialite, sleepovers to give you nightmares, all set amongst Californian glitz it’s no wonder Beyond the Valley of the Dolls has affirmed cult status over the years.
Bodacious boobies bounce between boozy basslines. ~ * * * ~
For a better understanding of who this Russ Meyer fella is look no further than the wikipedia category – ‘Big breast fixation, or the Meyer physical archetype’ with a simple Google search.
On a side note, does anyone else see the similarities between Cyrus’ prophetic speech from The Warriors and Morpheus’ sweaty rabble rouser in The Matrix Reloaded? #caveorgy
As the wise and weary-eyed Cyrus asked, “Can you dig it?” To the IPC, I answer with an unequivocal yes. I doff my Top Hat to you sir.
Five Top Hats.
p.s. note to self – delete internet history after posting.