The Wicker Tree

Director: Robin Hardy (2010)
Starring: Brittania Nicol, Henry Garrett, Graham McTavish, Christopher Lee
Find it: IMDB

A spiritual sequel to The Wicker Man. It certainly feels very in keeping with a Wicker Man film, but perhaps not the one Robin Hardy had in mind. I would not have been surprised to see Nicolas Cage running around this movie in a bear suit, punching women in the face.

Based on Hardy's own novel, Cowboys for Christ (how much better is that for a title?) The Wicker Tree sees a wholesome Texan gospel singer (Nicol) and her boyfriend Steve (Garrett) travel to bonny Scotland in order to convert the heathens they find there. Scotland is a cheerier place than Frankie Boyle would have you believe; full of smiley pagans, cheeky wee sexpots and cheerful murderers. Beth is chosen to play Queen at the village's annual big hippy festival - but we all know how that turned out for Sergeant Howie and Sheriff Malus, don't we? NOT THE BEES.

I hadn't thought it possible, but The Wicker Tree is every bit as tonally useless and inconsistent as Neil LaBute's infamous misfire. Everything about it plays like a comedy; and not even a black one. Cowboys and villagers alike give broad, buffoonish performances that make Nicolas Cage's look calm and considered in comparison. HOW'D IT GET BURNED.

This isn't helped by a bizarre streak which has Beth seeing the ghost of her slutty pre-Christian self slutting about in her hotel room, and some inappropriate physical comedy from the creepy butler. The reference will be lost on anyone outside of the UK above (or below) a certain age, but there's even an appearance from Trent from off've My Parents are Aliens. I actually enjoyed this more than I did Christopher Lee's cameo, because My Parents are Aliens is probably my favourite kids' television programme ever (because Batman cartoons obviously don't count as kids' TV). Maybe if Lee had played a bigger role, as planned, The Wicker Tree would seem less daft, but it's doubtful.

Against all odds, the ending is interesting and actually approaches the original Wicker Man in its cruelty. Sadly it's accompanied by the same stunning stupidity as the rest of the movie and just seems as funny as Nicolas Cage with a bee-box on his head. I enjoyed The Wicker Tree, but for all the wrong reasons.

Strippers vs Werewolves

Director: Jonathan Glendening (2012)
Starring: Robert Englund, Billy Murray, Adele Silva, Martin Compston
Find it: IMDB

When I was seventeen, I sat down one night to watch Hellraiser for the first time. It was during a sex scene when my father walked in. Face full of guilt, I looked up at dear old pop and said, "I'm not watching porn, Dad. It's Hellraiser. Honest." He promptly left the room. The look of disappointment said "I wish it was porn, son, I wish it was." It's this mindset one should bear in mind, dear reader, when I say, in this review of Strippers vs Werewolves, that there far far too many strippers and not nearly enough werewolves.

Martin Kemp is a werewolf and attacks stripper Adele Silva from off've Emmerdale, who proceeds to kill him with a silver pen. But werewolf Martin Kemp has some seriously dangerous buddies, and soon his gangster werewolf mates (led by Billy Murray, who will apparently do anything from Eastenders to vampire films to insurance adverts for a few quid) are out for revenge. I'll probably get my penis for rescinded for saying this, but Strippers vs Werewolves is remarkably not-sexy. What can I say, good acting is hot.

Adele Silva (famous for Emmerdale and going to Hollywood - and finding herself working in a shop* there) is borderline unwatchable, pouting like an even worse Kristen Stewart and giving the same whispery line delivery for everything. Amongst the actresses, there's not a single good performance. Which is what happens when you let the readers of Nuts Magazine dictate your cast. Lucy Pinder, really? The blokes fare slightly better, with Martin Compston handling most of the real acting stuff. Billy Murray does exactly the same thing as he does in everything, but it works okay here. The more jokey tone makes it easier to handle here than it is in serious stuff like Dead Cert (essentially the same film but worse), Eastenders and those stupid insurance adverts he was in. His pairing with Robert Englund feels oddly right, even if they do just stand and growl at one another for five minutes. Englund's cameo is fun, although given the quality of the film, maybe this American Werewolf should have stayed out of London.

Strippers vs Werewolves is watchable - and even funny in places - but not once was I under the impression that it's anything but a fluffy hunk of shit. With the death of Martin Kemp went my hopes. Strippers vs Werwolves is the sort of movie in which the characters' names pop up next to them as they appear in the film. The makeup effects are sort of original (the 'wolves remain humanoid, save for sideburns, beards and teeth) but look terrible beyond that novelty. The script is annoying (it's just people repeatedly saying "naughty this," "naughty that") and the music is awful. The final fight is completely devoid of wit, tension or action. It offers neither of the things promised in the title: the strippers never strip and the werewolves neither look nor act like werewolves. It's a spiritual sequel to Lesbian Vampire Killers.


Strippers vs Werewolves ends with a character making the bold statement: "films don't have to be art to be fun." Strippers vs Werewolves is neither.

*The only proper links I could find were to The Daily Mail and The Sun. Fuck off if you think I'm linking to that.