Before Rupert Everett became the must-have accessory for all single women who were too independent to be confined by the constraints of a relationship, but were clamouring for first bash at the label makers to mash in ‘Fag Hag’ as fast as their clawing fingers would allow, he was cast in a movie with a female lead that didn’t actually need a feather duster to find her fanny (fan-nee noun 1.external female genitalia. British and New Zealand slang). [WARNING: ONE NSFW image]
CEMETERY MAN (1994)
Genre: Comedy/ Horror
Director: Michele Soavi
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In the brief period during the 90s when old Rupert wasn’t typecast as a campy gay, he played campy straight cemetery caretaker, Francesco Dellamorte, in the cramped Italian town of Buffalora; beset by loneliness, longing for love, and living in a tumble down house with only a monosyllabic simpleton to turn to for shits and giggles, the only option was to moon around looking brooding, narrating his own life events.
To make matters worse, word around town is that he’s impotent to the extreme, what with having no penis. Too busy to nip this vicious gossip in the bud, Dellamorte has to divide his time between smoking, burying cadavers, smoking, chatting up widows, smoking, berating the mentally deficient Gnaghi, fitting in another smoke if there’s time, and killing zombies of an evening.
That’s right, zombies. Unbeknownst to the townspeople, cleverly concealed in the cemetery’s main entrance is a message alluding to the supernatural nature of the graveyard; to whit the reanimation of corpses. Only the sharpest of mind and keenest of eye could spot the huge letters emblazoned across the front gate that read RESVRRECTVRIS (‘they will resurrect’). You’d have to as thick as Gandalf outside the Mines of Moria to miss that one. Anyone who remembered that bit of dialogue from Lord of the Rings gets a cookie.
Life starts looking up for Dellamorte after the funeral of a wrinkly old sugar daddy produces a hot young widow who likes a good bone. Fortuitously there’s an ossuary on the grounds full of skeletons that end up going all evil dead on the couple’s first visit and ripping most of the lady’s garments off whilst ‘the voices’ tell her to get sexual.
Not wanting to appear too eager to jump into bed so soon after her husband’s death, she runs off to play a little hard to get, and affect a sexy pose somewhere a little less ripe with the fragrance of death and decay. Reputation intact, she soon drops her knickers faster than Pamela Anderson’s tits after a mass silicone recall.
Being a gentleman, Dellamorte refrains from commenting on the jaw-dropping magnitude of his lover’s nipples and diligently ploughs her atop her late husband’s grave, with the assurance that the old man would’ve wanted it that way. Well, the silly bint was wrong – her husband is pissed and promptly bursts out of the ground and has a big old nibble on her before getting his head caved in.
Anticipating the girl’s reanimation, he maintains a vigil by her corpse, which still needs to be naked apparently, and blows her brains out when she awakens. Embarrassingly, he eventually finds out she wasn’t dead and blames himself for her death, what with shooting her in the head and everything. In his grief, he forgets to apportion the majority of the blame to the incompetent quack who declared her dead to begin with.
Wracked with guilt, Dellamorte is haunted by visions of the grim reaper handing out such sage advice as popping people in the noggin before they’re dead to prevent zombification, and running with scissors. Probably. And so begins a series of late night jaunts to town for a stint of murders.
But it’s not all doom and gloom for the grave keeping duo. Gnaghi find love with the decapitated head of the mayors daughter, whilst Dellamorte, in some kind of warped take on Joe and the Volcano , runs into incarnations of his deceased bit of stuff who are either scared of dicks (solution: cut nob off) or turn out to be prostitutes (solution: KILL).
Will Dellamorte throw in the towel with these crazy dames and bat for the same team like any sane man would? Who’s keeping an eye on all those zombies? And why does the local constabulary refuse to investigate multiple homicides that involve only one suspect? Because no one wants to be the guy arresting the only gay in the village? Find out in Cemetery Man .
Author Gamer Girl writes for FrontTowardsGamer.com and GamerGirlTalk.com. It is highly recommended you follow her on Twitter.
Previously in Poison Popcorn: ROBOT JOX! See previous Poison Popcorns right fucking here!