Attack of the Giant Leeches (2008)
http://www.bloody-disgusting.com/news/13855
“Massive Blood Sucking Monsters!!!”
“CRAWLING HORROR...THE GIANT LEECHES...RISING FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL!”
Well, for some reason I just couldn’t sleep tonight. I don’t know why—maybe it was something I ate. Or maybe it was something that tried to eat me…
One look at this movie poster—and the awful truth comes out!!!
Anyway, to compose myself, I did like I usually do—I popped some popcorn and watched a movie!!! I got out a six-pack of Coors “Silver Bullets”—and got my little fanny scrunched right down there in front of my TV Flat Screen. I was ready, baby—for some get-down campy Grade B tacky schlocky movie Entertainment!!!
For some reason, when I get depressed by all the Tacky Meandering Mushy-brained Maudlin Madness out there in the world—all I need is a really good schlock-oozing amazingly SNARKY Grade B horror movie to perk up by sagging spirits and get me going again.
Yes, indeed, probably because it makes me laugh and sometimes that’s all you can really do—when faced with how stupid and smarmy some individuals are out there in the world. Like most of Them? Well, maybe not all of Them, but a lot of Them. Don’t get me wrong—some of my best friends are Snarky. The more Snarky the better!!!
In fact when I get together for cards, whether it’s bridge with the ladies or poker with the boyz, it doesn’t take too long to get into the Snark mood. A few drinks and maybe a movie in the background—then, well, watch out, girl. Pretty soon Mystery Science Theater Snark pales in comparison to my snarky friends getting down to some serious Snarkoleptic Sci-Fi vicious Film Commentary.
It gets so bad sometimes, I have to sneak away into the night—because I’d rather just SNARK alone in the comfort and privacy of my own little snarkalicious love shack. I love Snarkology but if you get a bunch of Snark Queens in the same room snarking away, well, then, it just gets to be too much sometimes.
Like where’s the Snark switch? Is there a volume control—can I switch channels? Let me outta here!!! I’m having a Snark Fit!!!
So I usually end up movie-snarking to myself—fumbling thru stacks of fascinatingly campy horror flick dvd’s like Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1959) or Bride of the Monster (1956) or The Brainiac (1951) or Charlie Chan and the Scarlet Prick (1945) or High School Confidential (1958) or I Was A Teenage Werewolf (1957) or Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959) or Voodoo Woman (1959)…the usual tacky panoply of cheap no-good ‘50s campy classics.
But if I’m especially depressed—I go for the really trashy Snark classics. Like Attack of the Giant Leeches (1959). Aka Attack of the Blood Leeches aka Demons of the Swamp aka She Demons of the Swamp aka The Giant Leeches.
With super-sexy Yvette Vickers—the sexiest young thing down there in bug-infested Florida (actually the LA County Arboretum). There’s lots of blood-sucking leeches hanging around Vickers in this flick—and most of them are slinking around on two sneaky legs. Yvette Vickers knows she’s goodlooking with her sexy physique—and she uses it to her own advantage.
Yvette Vickers is the classic swamp woman femme fatale—egging the stupid ones on, pushing them away at the last moment, teasing them some more until they cough up some dough. She enjoys every snarky moment of tormenting her various and sundry priapic lovers. Can you blame her—she be bored down there in Nowheresville. Wouldn’t you?
“Aw, c’mon Liz, baby!” her poor ineffectual whiner husband, Bruno Ve Sota, says. Everybody in the county knows Yvette is easy—well sort of. Dumb Bruno—he’s the last to know. Swamp women be fickle—but they’re also very secretive, dontchaknow. They play hard to get—but then when the right guy comes around, well… But then look at what she’s got to deal with—dumb ugly Southern boy slugs. Hunky but not-too-bright guys like Michael Emmet.
Actually I’ve been a great fan of Bruno Ve Sota for many years—he achieved cult status in the ranks of cheap Corman Grade-B crummy flicks. He got popular playing crummy characters in crummy movies with crummy plots that only crummy teenagers in crummy drive-in’s would enjoy. Lots of sexploitation, lots of flesh—and usually endless variations of the beauty & the beast routine. In all sorts of gross smarmy schlocky roles—that usually only appeal to estranged snarky adolescent males with severe testosterone problems.
(“Notable movie roles include a disgusting slob junkyard owner who sells stolen automobile parts on the side in "The Choppers," a bartender in "The Haunted Palace," a hapless night watchman who becomes a victim of "The Wasp Woman," a snobby coffeehouse regular in the hilarious black comedy gem "A Bucket of Blood," a perverse oddball named Mr. Donald Duck from Duluth in "Single Room Unfurnished," a nervous innkeeper in "The Undead," a Russian spy in "War of the Satellites," a minister in "Hell's Angels on Wheels," a cultured gangster in "Daddy-O," and a brutish loan enforcer in "Carnival Rock." Bruno narrated the atrocious cheapie clunker "Curse of the Stoned Hand" for notorious schlockmeister Jerry Warren. He also worked on the make-up and has a bit part in Curtis Harrington's nicely spooky "Night Tide." VeSota does a cameo in Steven Spielberg's made-for-TV fright feature "Something Evil.")
VeSota and Vickers don’t have much competition in this movie—unless its from the slimy bloodsucking famished leeches… The leeches are exquisitely silly and amateur creatures—almost as campy as the limp-limbed octopus Ed Woode, Jr uses in The Bride of the Monster (1956).
The tentacles were supposed to be inflatable with an air compressor, but forgot it and Tor Johnson had to pretend-wrestle with the limp deflated octopus faux-tentacles. The supposedly intelligent, blood-thirsty leeches in this schlock-fest flick are actually men in suction-cup-covered suits that don’t quite fit over their air tanks.
Too bad the schlock only lasts 63 minutes—I could watch another hour or two of fun & games in the swap—going into ever more intimate erotic outrages and shocking suck-jobs by the Giant Leeches. VeSota also was in Bucket of Blood—the other horror movie co-billed with Leeches.
Bruno VeSota is like an Ariadnian Golden Thread—leading the Snark Movie Queen into and out of the Labyrinth of the great Grade B Movie Maze so generously provided to us by Hollywood genius & daring. VeSota is like the poet Virgil—Dante’s guide down into the various Snarky Circles of Hell in the Hollywood Inferno of Fame and Fortune. How lucky we are to have a Ticket to Drive In Heaven and Hell—a Passport into the Indescribable World of the Cinematic Snarkosphere!!!
I won’t bore you with the gory details of the movie—not until later anyway. If indeed you’re a serious VeSota aficionado and Giant Leech cineaste—then you’ve probably seen Attack of the Giant Leeches many times now. I always like to watch it to regain my composure—after being around too many crummy energy-sucking snarky people who drain me dry at work or play.
There are such humanoid leech creatures out there you know—Leech People who’ll suck all your time and energy out of you. And then spit you out—like a watermelon seed. You know—the high-maintenance types? Like The 50-Foot Woman always kvetching about this and that—how her husband can satisfy her sexual needs? But what man could? Only Giant Leeches—could satisfy the 50-Foot Woman!!!!
http://www.bloody-disgusting.com/news/13855
“Massive Blood Sucking Monsters!!!”
“CRAWLING HORROR...THE GIANT LEECHES...RISING FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL!”
Well, for some reason I just couldn’t sleep tonight. I don’t know why—maybe it was something I ate. Or maybe it was something that tried to eat me…
One look at this movie poster—and the awful truth comes out!!!
Anyway, to compose myself, I did like I usually do—I popped some popcorn and watched a movie!!! I got out a six-pack of Coors “Silver Bullets”—and got my little fanny scrunched right down there in front of my TV Flat Screen. I was ready, baby—for some get-down campy Grade B tacky schlocky movie Entertainment!!!
For some reason, when I get depressed by all the Tacky Meandering Mushy-brained Maudlin Madness out there in the world—all I need is a really good schlock-oozing amazingly SNARKY Grade B horror movie to perk up by sagging spirits and get me going again.
Yes, indeed, probably because it makes me laugh and sometimes that’s all you can really do—when faced with how stupid and smarmy some individuals are out there in the world. Like most of Them? Well, maybe not all of Them, but a lot of Them. Don’t get me wrong—some of my best friends are Snarky. The more Snarky the better!!!
In fact when I get together for cards, whether it’s bridge with the ladies or poker with the boyz, it doesn’t take too long to get into the Snark mood. A few drinks and maybe a movie in the background—then, well, watch out, girl. Pretty soon Mystery Science Theater Snark pales in comparison to my snarky friends getting down to some serious Snarkoleptic Sci-Fi vicious Film Commentary.
It gets so bad sometimes, I have to sneak away into the night—because I’d rather just SNARK alone in the comfort and privacy of my own little snarkalicious love shack. I love Snarkology but if you get a bunch of Snark Queens in the same room snarking away, well, then, it just gets to be too much sometimes.
Like where’s the Snark switch? Is there a volume control—can I switch channels? Let me outta here!!! I’m having a Snark Fit!!!
So I usually end up movie-snarking to myself—fumbling thru stacks of fascinatingly campy horror flick dvd’s like Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1959) or Bride of the Monster (1956) or The Brainiac (1951) or Charlie Chan and the Scarlet Prick (1945) or High School Confidential (1958) or I Was A Teenage Werewolf (1957) or Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959) or Voodoo Woman (1959)…the usual tacky panoply of cheap no-good ‘50s campy classics.
But if I’m especially depressed—I go for the really trashy Snark classics. Like Attack of the Giant Leeches (1959). Aka Attack of the Blood Leeches aka Demons of the Swamp aka She Demons of the Swamp aka The Giant Leeches.
With super-sexy Yvette Vickers—the sexiest young thing down there in bug-infested Florida (actually the LA County Arboretum). There’s lots of blood-sucking leeches hanging around Vickers in this flick—and most of them are slinking around on two sneaky legs. Yvette Vickers knows she’s goodlooking with her sexy physique—and she uses it to her own advantage.
Yvette Vickers is the classic swamp woman femme fatale—egging the stupid ones on, pushing them away at the last moment, teasing them some more until they cough up some dough. She enjoys every snarky moment of tormenting her various and sundry priapic lovers. Can you blame her—she be bored down there in Nowheresville. Wouldn’t you?
“Aw, c’mon Liz, baby!” her poor ineffectual whiner husband, Bruno Ve Sota, says. Everybody in the county knows Yvette is easy—well sort of. Dumb Bruno—he’s the last to know. Swamp women be fickle—but they’re also very secretive, dontchaknow. They play hard to get—but then when the right guy comes around, well… But then look at what she’s got to deal with—dumb ugly Southern boy slugs. Hunky but not-too-bright guys like Michael Emmet.
Actually I’ve been a great fan of Bruno Ve Sota for many years—he achieved cult status in the ranks of cheap Corman Grade-B crummy flicks. He got popular playing crummy characters in crummy movies with crummy plots that only crummy teenagers in crummy drive-in’s would enjoy. Lots of sexploitation, lots of flesh—and usually endless variations of the beauty & the beast routine. In all sorts of gross smarmy schlocky roles—that usually only appeal to estranged snarky adolescent males with severe testosterone problems.
(“Notable movie roles include a disgusting slob junkyard owner who sells stolen automobile parts on the side in "The Choppers," a bartender in "The Haunted Palace," a hapless night watchman who becomes a victim of "The Wasp Woman," a snobby coffeehouse regular in the hilarious black comedy gem "A Bucket of Blood," a perverse oddball named Mr. Donald Duck from Duluth in "Single Room Unfurnished," a nervous innkeeper in "The Undead," a Russian spy in "War of the Satellites," a minister in "Hell's Angels on Wheels," a cultured gangster in "Daddy-O," and a brutish loan enforcer in "Carnival Rock." Bruno narrated the atrocious cheapie clunker "Curse of the Stoned Hand" for notorious schlockmeister Jerry Warren. He also worked on the make-up and has a bit part in Curtis Harrington's nicely spooky "Night Tide." VeSota does a cameo in Steven Spielberg's made-for-TV fright feature "Something Evil.")
VeSota and Vickers don’t have much competition in this movie—unless its from the slimy bloodsucking famished leeches… The leeches are exquisitely silly and amateur creatures—almost as campy as the limp-limbed octopus Ed Woode, Jr uses in The Bride of the Monster (1956).
The tentacles were supposed to be inflatable with an air compressor, but forgot it and Tor Johnson had to pretend-wrestle with the limp deflated octopus faux-tentacles. The supposedly intelligent, blood-thirsty leeches in this schlock-fest flick are actually men in suction-cup-covered suits that don’t quite fit over their air tanks.
Too bad the schlock only lasts 63 minutes—I could watch another hour or two of fun & games in the swap—going into ever more intimate erotic outrages and shocking suck-jobs by the Giant Leeches. VeSota also was in Bucket of Blood—the other horror movie co-billed with Leeches.
Bruno VeSota is like an Ariadnian Golden Thread—leading the Snark Movie Queen into and out of the Labyrinth of the great Grade B Movie Maze so generously provided to us by Hollywood genius & daring. VeSota is like the poet Virgil—Dante’s guide down into the various Snarky Circles of Hell in the Hollywood Inferno of Fame and Fortune. How lucky we are to have a Ticket to Drive In Heaven and Hell—a Passport into the Indescribable World of the Cinematic Snarkosphere!!!
I won’t bore you with the gory details of the movie—not until later anyway. If indeed you’re a serious VeSota aficionado and Giant Leech cineaste—then you’ve probably seen Attack of the Giant Leeches many times now. I always like to watch it to regain my composure—after being around too many crummy energy-sucking snarky people who drain me dry at work or play.
There are such humanoid leech creatures out there you know—Leech People who’ll suck all your time and energy out of you. And then spit you out—like a watermelon seed. You know—the high-maintenance types? Like The 50-Foot Woman always kvetching about this and that—how her husband can satisfy her sexual needs? But what man could? Only Giant Leeches—could satisfy the 50-Foot Woman!!!!
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