Veritable Screwing Machines

Today, a pally-pal came over and we took in the weirdest double feature that I can recall ingesting.  We started with 1981's Zombie Lake, which wasn't that weird.  Okay, I guess I'm projecting.  The weirdness emanated from 1969's The Curious Dr. Humpp (sic).  This is a title you should recognize if you've ever seen the Something Weird sampler, or even the brief pastiche that announces itself before the feature presentation on a Something Weird DVD.  Something weird indeed.  Humpp was originally an hour long, give or take, but when it was picked up for American distribution, sleaze bellwether Jerald Intrator inserted (*giggles*) close to 20 minutes of softcore porn.  There is a lot of nudity in this kitty.

Look, boobs are awesome.  No qualms about bare flesh itself; it's just that there is simply too much of it.  I never thought I'd say that about any film, but director Emilio Vieyra had concocted a nice little sci-fi/horror aperitif before it was slathered in rotgut.  I went for an alcohol analogy.  Don't think it worked.  Anyway, Dr. Humpp is a charming, albeit seedy budget flick without the sex padding.  And when I say "sex," I mean "petting."  We don't see penetration, despite the X rating.  Hell, we don't see implied penetration.  Hit the brakes!  I'm not doing my job if I don't talk more about the doofy plot, which involves a mad scientist (Humppty-Humpp) extracting cum juice from the brains of post-coital nymphomaniacs.

Cum juice keeps him young?  He wants to live forever, but that's not the scrumptious part.  This picture show is stolen by the doctor's minions.  You've got his regiment of automatons (they reminded me of Putties), and they're amusing enough.  But then!  You guys!  There is...he doesn't have a name, unfortunately.  I refer to him as Blinker, as his forehead is embellished with a blinking light.  For no goddamn reason.  That's him in the above photograph, and yes, he's playing a square guitar.  HE'S PLAYING A SQUARE GUITAR.  Look at his beautiful, beautiful face!  It's a mask, but who cares?  Blinker is a mighty monster and he deserves his own franchise.  His own cereal!

I need to calm down.  So Zombie Lake.

It sucked.  I knew it would be a disappointment going in, but for some befuckled reason, I selected it for scrutiny.  Satan help me.  Zombie Lake was helmed by Jean Rollin, a last-second replacement for Jess Franco.  Rollin regretted accepting the gig.  It's easy to see why.  He loathed the script, but there was no time to change it.  Honestly, it doesn't feel like he directed half of the damned thing.  I concede, there are lithe, graceful underwater shots of zombies and naked ladies.  Yeah, we get an eyeful of unclad hotties here as well, but it's not distracting.  Perhaps I'm being hard on Zombie Lake.  Nah.  It's dismal, forgettable and don't bother trying to decipher the flashback-ridden storyline.

Blinker would have fucked those zombies up.

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