28 May 2017


Getting ready to give this Vincent Price classic from the 70's a rewatch and felt some poster sharing was in order. Surely one of the roles he is most associated with and this and the sequel are just great, fun movies to check out. Lush looking, a little funny in spots and and more than a bit freaky at times. Men have their faces "shredded"off by vegetarian fruit bats (Flying Foxes)! 

21 May 2017


I really feel more and more I am reaching the end of the line for this little blog, although I am unwilling to pull the plug just yet. I have reached a place where only one of two things will happen, I will find some solution to the problem or just walk away from it all. I think it is okay that one loses the drive for things he was once passionate for, especially when the object of that passion starts to become more of an albatross around his neck than a source of motivation and inspiration. That being said, it is also doable that he can change his mind set and approach to what he has been doing and then sit back and see if that helps. You can see this in musicians who get older, who still make music but not the type they once made, often to the chagrin of their fans. There was a time that writing articles about cult and horror movies consumed me and drove me. I fought to maintain the blog from inside China where Blogger is blocked and there is no such culture here that supports horror movies and comic books. You may think there is, but there is not. But I fought and in my opinion churned out a fairly decent blog and had plans for more and more stuff, but a few things happened along the road and I just got more and more cynical and jaded about the whole fucking charade. 

I used to join all the blog clubs and host the gadgets and widgets and banners on my sacred sidebar. I used to sport my post visit tracker and links to my RSS feeds (remember RSS feeds and howe people actually followed them?) with pride. I gave replies to comments that were nearly posts in themselves. I used to leave a short positive comment on other people's posts if I liked them. Shit, I used to actually read other people's blogs. But in truth a couple weird exchanges with some assholes back when I was open to collaborating with other bloggers, the continued lack of comments or feedback, the shift from people sitting at a computer (as I am now) and browsing the Internet to people scrolling down a goddamned mobile device and my own dropping of all social media involvement (my Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr and Google + accounts have all been totally deleted) and my sudden lack of concern over comments or hits has put me in a strange place. And I can see it can either be a positive or negative thing. But probably negative knowing my "the glass is half empty" approach to life. Let me explore that a bit.

I am just going to post what I want (within the undulating context of the blog theme) and be damned with the results. My last three posts are an obit type thing (maybe my first and last of that style) and a couple Mexican comic book cover art posts. Coming up will be a Youtube video type category that will replace my stupid ass podcast. I will try to post something almost everyday, even if it is just a photo or gif, rather than wait until I get around to doing a big movie review. I do what I do and so mote be it.

I also removed an sort of gadget for Followers or that tracked visits here. I have gained about two new Followers over the last two years, taking my stagnant 150 all the way to 152. Why would I want to look at that? I may even disable comments if I remain annoyed at my lack of them. If people do not wish to leave them then I do not wish to receive them. It seems that that is how it is with many blogs these days. People skim and sample from their Galaxies or iPhones and do not have the inclination to leave a comment. I can understand it. But it still sucks and if the lack of comments or interaction aggravates me I may just take that concern off the table and blog for no other reason than I enjoy doing it for myself. I appreciate the traffic the site still gets, even after I have removed all social media linkings (Facebook, Twitter, Google + and all that) and I thank the people who drop in. I love you. But in the end it is ultimately it can become self defeating to want to have something and never get it. But in the end that is not the ultimate reason I do the blog. What is that reason? I dunno, neurosis maybe. And is there any better reason to labor away at something no one gives a hoot about but yourself?

NOTE: After this post I decided to set the restrictions on my comments to a place where they will basically disabled. I see no reason to have comments enables at this time. I think it only prevents me from wanting to blog more. If you like the content awesome and thank you. If you tried to leave a comment but could not I am truly sorry. I am not a misanthrope. But one comment every four or five months, maybe,  is not worth the effort of clicking on the little comment section button to check. 


Much like Oscar Bazaldua, whose work was featured here a while back, Rafael Gallur is know mostly for his work in the area of Mexican Ghetto Librettos, or Sensacionales, comics. The emphasis in these comics is on sex and violence and the drawing are typically over the top and graphic. Unlike Bazaldua however Gallur demonstrates a degree of restraint in his drawings in the areas of explicit violence and sexual posings of the subjects. The drawings are still pretty erotic but not as unnervingly so as in the works of Bazaldua and other pulp style Mexican illustrators. The drawings here are simply a bit more heroic in context than the drawings I presented before. There is still the politically incorrect chauvinistic atmosphere that may offend some people with larger than life muy macho men looming over scantily clad females who are often presented in some compromising position or another. The women themselves appear tough and dangerous but they are still frail compared to the male characters who all seem fairly lethal. Almost all of the drawings here are western themes and are finely detailed and rendered. I am not sure if he is working alone here or with somebody else helping with coloring chores and if anybody has more info I will pass that on in a future post. The drawings seem to show more of an influence from American pinup and magazine cover art than some of the other Ghetto Librettos drawings I have seen but the liberal use of vivid primary colors and lurid subject matter is something that you just don’t see that much of north of the border. I have not seen the inside of one of these magazines and if anybody has scans of the interior work I would love to see them. I used to live in San Antonio Texas but to be honest I never saw anything like this there, and now I am in China and it is simply impossible to find western comic books of any sort here. Spiderman is subversive enough here.


When I say that these covers from Mexican comic book magazines are outrageous I am it is at best an understatement. Most (if not all) of he covers I posted here are drawn by illustrator Oscar Bazaldua who seems to be the reigning king of this type of artwork. I tried to find a few samples of the interior artwork but I really could not find much. If anyone knows of a link where I can see samples of the b/w drawing on the inside please send that to me. I would be much indebted to you. Also not a lot of information on these titles is available with a superficial investigation and I will see what I can dig up when I do a follow up post to this one since I have some many cover samples. Depending on your outlook on things these are simply vulgar and disgusting or they are actually a little funny, in the same way that the old Eerie Publications covers were a little funny. The themes here, as far as I can make out, are not so much horror as they are macho adventure stories and sexual escapades. The male characters are ruthless and gun toting as are the females ones, but the females tend to scantily clad and smoldering to the point of being untouchable. The violence is graphic and exaggerated and consistently over the top.

For example one of the first two covers, Realtos de Presdidio, – which contains some of the most violent cover artwork by Bazaldua – simply shows some dead guy who has flown through a windshield in graphic detail. Nothing more than that. Opening up the article –where the best stuff is hidden away- are twp more Realto de Presidio covers that are more typical of Bazaldua’s approach. One is common theme on some of the covers and shows a macho guy who appears to part of some drug cartel blowing out the brains of some guy who is haplessly crawling away on the floor. The guys getting blasted in these types of covers usually look defenseless and frightened. Draped over him is a dead woman with blood censoring her nipples. Thank god for that, wouldn’t want to see any nipples here and be corrupted. The cover next to that has some guy serenading and fondling a buxom gal while they sit over yet another dead guy with his brains all over the floor. But the next cover for Champeadoras is really the freakiest of the lot and worthy of reviving Frued’s dark theories about what is buried in a man’s psyche. Or what is buried in a woman’s toilet bowel I guess is more accurate. The covers only get more extreme in content and execution. They are drawn and colored in a realistic style that only makes them all the more shocking and grotesque. Probably more of these cover –and maybe some interior artwork- coming in the future once I can find out a little more about the books and the people who create them.

19 May 2017


I don’t do obit type blog posts, or R.I.P posts. I do not like to read them for the most part either. But last night I heard that Soundgarden singer Chris Cornell had died suddenly, and then this morning further found out he had committed suicide by hanging himself. And is all rather depressing and causes me to reflect on a few things, and how his death has some personal meaning and significance for me. I would first say that did not idolize the guy or the band and did not even like a lot of the stuff of theirs I heard. I did always like Cornell’s awesome voice however even if I did not like the particular song. But I did have a sort of admiration for the band and in fact would call Soundgarden the last band I ever liked. I just stopped following bands after them and do not even know if I can name a band that came after them that I have listened to.

I moved to Seattle from San Antonio Texas in autumn of 1993. I was never a fan of the so-called grunge scene as a whole but liked a few of the bands that came out of all of that at that time. Kurt Cobain killed himself in winter of 1994 if I remember right and I recall seeing the newspaper headline in a newspaper machine downtown. Ever a big fan of him or Nirvana I was still sort of stunned by the suddenness of the news. Soundgarden was already known around the area and they started to hit it big about 1995 or so and they sort of got lumped into the whole grunge thing simply because they were from Seattle more than because of the way they sounded, in my opinion, since they sounded a bit different to me. They sounded bigger and their sounded harkened back to the 70’s in many ways. Only better in some aspects. Cornell’s husky, manly voice and brooding voice was the centerpiece of it all. And on top of it he had those intense rock god looks that were, and still are, in sort supply. No doubt I liked most of their stuff and the band was not so much younger than me that I could not listen to them without feeling like I was listening to, well, kids. I think it is natural to reach a place in life were rock music starts to lose it place in your routine (I am more prone to listen to Eno, Philip Glass or old 50’s rock-n-roll and obscure garage rock bands these days) and also to start to listen less and less to people who are significantly younger than you are. All the rock gods I grew up with are dead or nearing 80 now. I just can’t stand even looking at new rock band pictures they are all so handsome and slick. Chris Cornell was the last “rock star” I liked.

There is also the backstory of my life of leaving Texas and the beginning of my estrangement from my family, and after ten years of struggle in Seattle I packed up and left the US and came here to China, where the struggle has continued but I have adjusted to it. If there was one band I had to pick that I had some degree of interest in following during that time it was Soundgarden, though I would hardly call myself a fan. In fact with liking Soundgarden came a period were I no longer wanted to be a fan of a rock band and I definitely stopped foolishly worshipping and praising Led Zeppelin, a band Soundgarden is often compared to. While I still like rock music of course and I play rock and roll on my guitar, in many ways Soundgarden marks the end of the line for me.

And on another note Cornell’s death marks the first loss of a celebrity I really liked since I quit Facebook and deleted my accounts, back in like December or so. While I do use Messenger and have about 18 people I actually know on it I do not have a Facebook account for any other purpose. I never check the newsfeed and I use a Google Chrome app/extension to kill that so that it never shows. It means, thank God, I will have not have to see all those vapid Facebook eulogies and tributes and “we lost another one” posts. I will follow some of the news over the mainstream outlets and then let it go. Of course I was moved enough to come here and write this. But I think a real blog post is a more fitting remembrance to someone I liked and followed than a Facebook post, sent from my iPhone, of a few hasty lines and a link to a Youtube video, sandwiched in between a Black Lives Matters retread post and another about rabid liberals wanting to impeach President Trump. Just like pretty boy rock bands Facebook is something I cannot connect with. And I imagined I could connect with Chris Cornell and his songs, and he was the last rock star I can say that about. And why would I do pearls before swine and share all of that on stupid ass Facebook. I am saddened by the whole deal at a time when death becomes something I fear and think about. As you get older there are suddenly less and less of the things you once know of in the world and fewer of the people you knew, and the ones who are left are all old and growing fragile. I always thought he was above all that self-centered, poor little misunderstood Seattle rock star crap, but I guess I was wrong. He abandoned three wonderful looking kids who obviously loved him and admired him. Their lives are permanently scarred. It is really a sad thing and while I wrote a lot I said nothing. And with that I guess there is nothing more to say.

19 March 2017



After reviewing A Serbian Film, meaning I had actually watched A Serbian Film, I fell into a slight depression regarding modern horror movies. It is not a depression that suddenly came over me out of the clear blue, but rather an agitation and exacerbation of an underlying horror film depression I have been wrestling with for some time. The bottom line is I just find a lot of modern horror just too over the top for me. I am not sure what exactly I mean by modern horror and do not think it is something that begins at a certain date on the calendar. Certainly the films of H.G. Lewis were ultra gory and disturbing and those came out in the early 60’s. But there is some other quality inherent in many newer films that I find more disturbing than the explicit gore even. I am not about to do some sort of “brainy” in-depth study or dissertation on the topic, but rather I just want to express my general feelings and move on.

When I began this blog a long time ago in about 2005 it was in different format and had a different direction. It has existed on a few different hosting platforms, like Opera, Wordpress, and two paid for places. I came to Blogger after multiple struggles with all those platforms and it has been a struggle here since Blogger and all things Google, or virtually all things Western, are blocked here in China where I live. But I manage with a little skill, savvy and patience to keep active. The site originally began as one of those retro themed sites and the early versions of the blog featured all those old ads and articles on people like Nancy Sinatra. Hence the name The Uranium Café, named after the small little restaurant near the Trinity atomic bomb test site. As it exists today the blog is only about movies. I recently removed all posts pertaining to comic books and music and such. Originally the movies here were all what one might call classic, cult or midnight movies styled films. Usually all were made before 1980.

But I still enjoyed watched modern horror movies and I had set up a second blog called Necrotic Cinema to deal with those reviews. I long ago stopped that blog since it was just a hassle to maintain even one blog much less two given my lackadaisical approach to such things. I moved all the posts from that site over to this one and ceased posting there though the blog is still online. One thing I had always noticed was that my reviews of newer films at NC were much harsher and cynical than my reviews of older films at this site. It just seemed I did not always enjoy the viewing experience (though sometimes I did and still do) and newer films often left me feeling disturbed and restless. As I said in my review of the sordid and abysmal A Serbian Film many people use these negative feelings as a defense of a sick, pointless film’s latent value. “Oh, if you feel disturbed and think about it later I must have value, because it got under your skin!” Donald Trump seems to get under everyone’s skin and provokes controversy but few people (especially on the new Marxist left) seem to feel he has value or merit based on simply the fact he disturbs people.

Since watching A Serbian Film I've watched a couple other newer styled films I had seen reviews of on the Youtube channel called Bloodbath and Beyond, a fairly enjoyable channel. Two were the Laid to Rest films with the character Chrome Skull and the other was a movie called Stitches about a killer clown. I may review those films, but I think I have reached a saturation point with ultra violent and sexually deviant and disturbing films. Any opinions on those two films I will save for reviews if I do any. But I just find that maybe because of events in my life and growing more than a bit older I have lost my taste for most all of that. I do not consider myself a prude and I also am not opposed to violent imagery in cinema. I do not winch or look away and often replay the more violent scenes. I am a fan of special effects, and practical effects in particular, and I know they are actors and it is all make believe, and yet I begin to question why I need to replay a scene of a Serbian woman being macheted to death while her killer continues to ravage her headless corpse. Or, as in Stitches, why I need to see a long played out scene of a male student having his dick ripped off by a killer clown who then dangles before the classroom with a witty one liner thrown in.

Either it is all becoming too disturbing for me or I am concerned that I am not disturbed enough. Have I just become jaded and burned out? Have events in my personal life made me more sensitive to some images and themes? Am I just tired of pandering this stuff under the bogus guise of a "social trend observer"? Who knows. Who cares. Most of the story lines are the same ones I have been seeing since the 70’s, done over and over. All the same stuff only the gory imagery and cheap-shots (i.e. jump scare tactics) are getting more ramped up in frequency  to appease the harder to please audiences. I am burned out with watching horny, angry teenagers go camping or explore a reputed haunted house or insane asylum and do all the same brainless clichés over and over. I am burned out with hacked up flesh and intestines and impaled faces. Lately I find myself watching more and more older films again, the MST3K type. While I do not see myself stopping watching modern horror films entirely I will try to be more selective. There is a vain of nihilism and hostility in newer horror films I just cannot put up with over and over any longer. If I read a review anymore that says '... ooh, this film is really bleak and hopeless and all the good people die off..." I think I will pass on seeing it. If I even decide to continue blogging with any passion I hope to go back to doing Hammer Films, or start reviewing all those cool old AIP Vincent Prices movies. Amazing that some of those, especially the Hammer films, were considered rather shocking for their times. We’ve come a long way baby. And I guess sometimes coming a long is not always for the better.

06 March 2017


DIRECTOR: Srdan Spasojevic
WRITER: Srdan Spasojevic, Aleksandar Radivojev
CAST: More dumb Serbian names

“What A Serbian Film underlines, though, is that some pictures can still get under audiences' and censors' skins. If this was just another bad and grotesque horror film, nobody would be paying any attention to it. The fact that it has already provoked such ferocious debate suggests that it can't be dismissed that easily.”

Some pompous quote from somewhere on the Internet

“The nastiest, most vile film ever made” people like to rant about A Serbian Film, often in a way that is recommending seeing it. As if some one saying “I know an Italian restaurant with the saltiest, most undercooked spaghetti in the world! You should try it!” is something that should inspire us to go give it a try. There is also the typical “art show” diatribe, as quoted above, that it is provoking debate, as if by the fact something provokes debate it automatically has some type of value that makes it important. My old art teacher Mark Pritchett made it clear that it is actually easier to provoke debate, albeit trivial debate, with crappy art than with good art. I think that is more the case here. I will explain this point later. Maybe. If I still feel like it.

This really is not my kind of film. I finished it but I almost did not and it had nothing to do with the violence. In fact the violence, while pretty intense, is not anymore intense than some horror films I have watched recently such as Laid to Rest with the Chrome Skull character. The issue with the film is around the repulsive sexual content and that sexual content being mashed up with the ultra-violence aspect. The film’s basic story centers around an aging, though once legendary porn star, named Milo. Milo now mopes around the house drinking Jack Daniels and not having much to do work wise since, like most porn stars, he is actually just an unskilled idiot with a big dick. He is a family man now with a son and wife who works as a translator of various languages. His son watches his dad’s old porno films that are not secured and later Milo gives the lad healthy father/son encouragement about the right time to masturbate. Night time is better. Yea, really, he did. well, you know those Europeans re so much more open. ut the kid is not even 1o years old and the scenes are very uncomfortable to say the least. Milo is coaxed out of retirement by a shady underworld character named Vukmir, who is the worst of all things in a European “art” film: a jaded, philosopher artist with wealth. Vukmir rants on and on about art and the plight of Serbia and how its people are lost and need something to jolt them back to life, or something like that. And what is it they need? Why, necrophilic child porn snuff films of course. That always helps reboot a busted society. Milo is a porn star of conscience and wants nothing to do with kids or beating women (as if beating was the end of it) and tries to get out, but he is injected with bull Viagra and goes nuts and fucks anything laid in front of him, including his own son. Yes, that is right. He sodomizes his own small son. Elsewhere in this debate provoking art film we get treated to Milo ejaculating on the face of a woman he just beat to a bloody pulp (and we see it all in its Serbian style bukakke glory), Milo hacking a woman to death with a machete while, well, fucking her and then continuing to savagely screw the blood spurting corpse. Some say the high point of this controversy stirring piece of cinematicart is when a masked thug has sexual intercourse with a newborn baby and the mother sits laughing as he does it. In another artistic and deep dialog inducing scene a woman is murdered by being forced to perform fellatio on a huge Serbian dong, after having her teeth extracted, and having her nostrils pinched shut, suffocating her. Nothing is left to the imagination and you know exactly what is happening at all times, and we see erect Serbian dude penises and jizz and blood and gore all over the place.

I watched the unrated version, with some extra 20 minutes trimmed by civilized countries like the US and Britain, and I will say I did not really know that much about what the film was about in these terms. I did not know it was about children being sodomized graphically. I had seen a review on the Youtube channel Bloodbath and Beyond and I was curious because of the way the film’s technical quality and acting were reviewed highly. I had heard of the film before but tend to avoid what is called extreme cinema. All that Japanese crap and pretentious European art puke. I have seen enough o know it is not for me. And I forgot those guys on Bloodbath and Beyond are pretty twisted fucks themselves. I almost quit but finished as to give it a review. Oh, I know, let me guess: the fact I could not stop watching is debate provoking or something. Nothing of the sort. I have seen tons of films. Many of the extreme cinema variety, especially from Japan (BTW, I do not consider Audition to be an extreme cinema film though it is often included on lists). I have seen many of the old Video Nasty films. The emphasis on those films was more graphic violence and not violence mixed with sexual imagery. What I manage to review here is but the tip of the iceberg of the films I have seen. I knew I would pan the film and I just wanted to finish it to see, if in the end, there might be some redeeming element. There was not. Unless one considers Milo killing himself and his family then a group of Serbs deciding to make a sex film with the corpses is redeeming in some way. I guess I do not.

So it goes back to what I was getting at in my first paragraph about what is art and who gives a fuck. Why is shit and puke and jizz and child sex art to some people but Jurassic Park is not? Because that other stuff is rancid garbage and the only way to market it is to call it art and to say it provokes heated debates. Then some art/film/philosophy/saxophone student who has been in college for 6 years with a man-bun and black finger nails will feel intellectually superior to you if they can generate a nice big debate around it and the hypocrisy of society and this and that load of horse shit. This is not really even a horror film, it is some sort of weird perverted underground fetish filth and since it was released in 2010 the “brilliant” auteur Srdan Spasojevic a total of one other film called The ABCs of Death, that features yet another little kid in the poster art. Was the film okay in the technical department? Yea, it was okay. So what? Not as technically good as Jurassic Park or Good Fellas. Like my old at teacher Pritchett said in a way, you could take anything, like a vat of urine with a crucifix in it, and call it art and when someone says “I don’t like it” then suddenly you have provoked debate and it has some sort of worth. Someone pooping on the American flag can suddenly become art because someone else vehemently opposes it as such. Well, it is not art. This is not art. It is crap. Crap is not art. Urine is not art. This film is not art or thought provoking. It generates vile images that the viewer responds to with disgust. “Oh, that is interesting. And why exactly did you find the scene where the newborn, blood covered baby was brutally raped revolting? Lets explore that. Oh, and why did you not find that plate of uncooked, extremely salty spaghetti delicious?” I give up. Please, avoid this film. Avoid Serbian cinema. Avoid Serbia.