Saturday, March 9, 2013

Mountains of Mammaries: House on Bare Mountain, Part 3

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

This next section is 95% plot, 5% boobs, and 6,578,882% horrifying drag.  I apologize before hand!

The scariest monster in the whole thing, and I'm not talking about the plastic spider.

Uh oh, I posted a picture and forgot to censor it!  This could be trouble, hold on, I need to correct this ...

I should have censored the shadow, too.

Whew!  So much better.

Granny Goode is sneaking down to her secret cellar to check on her bootlegging operation.  I'd explain this plot further but I very distracted -- I can't stop imaging what it must have smelled like when Creese lifts up that skirt.

If they had put a tent up over the house at that very moment, I think the entire house would be free of pests for the next 62 years.

Hey, get the heels off our chairs!  It's a nightmare to reupholster velvet! 

Here we get the only thing that keeps the audience from running out of the theatre for this segment (other than their pants being down, that is.)  The running gag is this woman was told to memorize the dictionary, and she's slowly making her way through it.  She hasn't reached "modesty" yet.

Not to be too OCD, but the room has a chair rail and none of the chairs reach that height.  Is it too much to ask of the set designer?  It's like this film exists for some other reason than being a good movie?  Is there some focus I'm missing?

Bob Creese threatens a werewolf.  Happened a lot.

When confronted with the supernatural, Bob Creese's default position is to manhandle it.  Werewolves, mummies, yup!  Dinosaurs?  Sure!  Dracula?  Sure!  A Dinosaur Dracula?  Of course!

That's a really icy stare for a guy in a dress, and I don't think Creese is acting.

This is Krakov, the Booze-Making Werewolf, and an excellent band name.

                                         ***                                           *

And now, the second entry in the increasingly outright theft of a signature internet comedy bit:

The Gallery of
Regrettable Werewolf Pompadours

Sorry, Mr. Lileks.  It's a runaway train!

It's what would happen if Elvis was bitten by radioactive mange.

                                         ***                                           *

Disappointing, right?  Well, with the useless plot out of the way, our next segment concerns the morning exercise routine of ten hot chicks and one Bob Creese in some weird sailor/Little Orphan Annie drag.  I guarantee one of those will be sexy.  Which one, is up to you!

It gets better, I swear: Part 4

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