Dir: Bruno Mattei.
Cast: Helena Wagner, Claudio Morales, Cindy Jelic Matic, Antoine Reboul, Kevin Maxwell, Brad Santana, Michael Garland, Foster Howard, Eniko Bodnar, Zsilvia Chernel and Chan Le.
Well, somebody had to buy it.
Fame-hungry femme fatale cum harsh faced ace reporter Grace Forsythe (Wagner, daughter of the composer of The Ring Cycle possibly) has had her hit show "Forsythe In Mah Mooth" cancelled due to plummeting ratings and general crapness.
I heart fisting.
Understandably angry (and a wee bit aroused by the sweat on her top lip) at the decision she storms to the station and confronts Tefal browed studio boss Geoff Head about the situation and in a flurry of professionalism unseen since the heady days of Vanessa Feltz faking guests offers him a quick tumble behind the scenes if he recommissions her show.
Classy.
Beware the human testicles!
Obviously holding out for a better offer (or a crack at her flaxen haired, Goddess like co-star Matic) he resists Grace's bullish charm but does offer her a deal.
If she can persuade her ex co-star (and former lover) Bob Manson (professional sexy man and star of Land of Death, Morales) to accompany her on a trip to the Amazon to film a no holds barred expose of cannibal rituals he'll commission a second series.
The only rule is that she mustn't be naughty and go around faking any footage or burn any villages downs.
Fingers crossed behind her back Grace agrees.
Five go mad on Meth.
With the contracts signed and the sun block packed our dynamic duo, along with their merry band of ratings hungry teevee professionals (including the platinum princess of power herself Matic as the ace troubleshooter and token buxom blonde Cindy Blair) in tow excitedly descend into the Amazon jungle determined to find the legendary last remaining cannibal tribe at any cost.
But first things first and there's just enough time for a wee bit of topless sunbathing and a chance for their native guide Brian to get all hot under the collar as he nervously rubs lard all over Grace's hairy back and arse.
Unfortunately (for the viewer) he gets sent off to perform some odd jobs before he can get round to oiling up Cindy and so with a heavy heart, heaving bosom and slightly damp undies Cindy and Grace get dressed (slowly), round up the troops and venture forth into the unknown.
Which is lucky really, seeing as last time they ventured fifth and only won a coconut.
"And when I want a good mooth
shite-in I pull THIS face!"
shite-in I pull THIS face!"
Sweating and farting their way thru' the undergrowth (or in this case the playpark behind Mr. Mattei's house), Bob is surprised when a group of battle hardened soldiers appear from behind a bush. Seems that they're members of some elite UN jungle protection force charged with stopping the locals eating each other and protecting the trees from loggers and the like.
But today is Wednesday which means that they can forget all that and spend a few hours hiding in the local fauna taking pot shots and the scantily clad, pot bellied natives.
Bob is appalled by such random acts of violence and in a manly display of testosterone fuelled righteous anger stamps his foot for a bit whilst tutting.
Grace on the other hand reckons that a wee bit of random violence is just what the show needs so gives the soldiers 50 pence and a bag of Haribo Starmix each to continue shooting the locals.
Best. Caption. Ever.
Switching off the live news feed with a promise of more gruesome goodies to come our intrepid band of bad men and ne'er do wells bed down for the night.
Their next stop, according to the map is a village of friendly tribes folk.
Grace reckons that this might be a bit boring for the viewers so suggests that they should set fire to the village before shooting all the old folk in the face, Bob however, being a world weary and cynical type, thinks that there's enough violence in the world without causing any more, especially in the name of ratings.
Grace gently reminds Bob that he's getting paid at least £48 and all the Monster Munch he can eat for taking part in the programme so he'd better stop whining and start killing.
Thinking it over for at least a minute Bob sighs and gets to work polishing his massive weapon.
Grace sneaked away from base camp
to scoff the gangs last Snickers bar.
to scoff the gangs last Snickers bar.
Meanwhile back at the studio, Geoff Head is foaming (at least it looks like foam) at the mouth whilst viewing the incoming footage and can hardly contain himself when the viewing figures are released.
It seems that everyone on the planet bar three people in West Bromwich (who don't have a teevee) are avidly watching the groups every move.
Geoff's dad (and owner of the station) is less impressed tho' feeling that what the audience really want is less violence and more ventriloquist acts.
After a tense board meeting the old fool is sent packing as the entire committee contact Grace to demand more buggery alongside the murders.
"Raugh row!"
Grace and company are more than happy to deliver and spend the next few days burning down villages, shite-ing in peoples gardens and parading old, shaggy breasted grannies before the cameras in between raping the odd virgin and skinning various animals all in the name of sensationalism.
Everyone seems to be enjoying the ultra-violent holiday, egging each other on to commit more and more sordid and sick acts of depravity, except Cindy that is who, in a moment of clarity shouts the age old question "I wonder who the real cannibals are?" at the group as they roughly bugger a wee native girl.
As heartfelt as her question is, she really hadn't thought it thru', I mean the real cannibals are the ones in grass skirts that eat folk aren't they?
Hats.
As the violence continues unabated and the studio demands more and more shocking images (some involving goats) the film crew approach the jungle home of the infamous man-eating 'Invisibles', the most primitive and savage tribe ever recorded.
And you can bet that they don't give a monkeys ball about ratings.
Will our merry band survive their descent into the green hell?
And if so, what will be left of them?
Sneakily promoted as Cannibal Holocaust 2: The Beginning in some territories (is this the most over-used title ever?), lo-fi exploitation king Mattei's homage to (OK, shameless rip-off of) Ruggero Deodato's legendary mockumentary classic harks back to a more simple age of film-making when local video store shelves were stacked to bursting with low budget versions of hit movies and shit movies alongside cheap as fuck Brit movies but for all it's faults (and there are many) Mondo Cannibale is a highly enjoyable piece of fluff from an always entertaining director.
A meaty Matic sandwich....yum!
Like most of his horror output (from Zombie Creeping Flesh to Zombies: The Beginning), the screenplay is an almost exact copy of the source material in question but as with nearly all of his later work, cheaply (and quickly) made on video in the Philippines with a core band of actors and technicians that he would use till his untimely death.
"Ah fell aff mah beanstalk!"
But if you're worried that a drop in budget would somehow taint the great man's vision then worry ye not as there's plenty here to enjoy, from blood drenched breasts to flabby thrusting man ass via a tasteful pole-based abortion, Cannibal World is the perfect date movie for those romantic nights in.
And who knows?
Just like the bouncy native girl chased thru the jungle by a horny Claudio Morales you may get lucky too.
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