As misleading movie posters go, Raw Meat tops them all. There is no wild haired Moses type surrounded by busty blonde women hanging makeshift togas from their erect nipples in an unconvincing attempt at covering their modesty. What we actually have is a crazy old plague-riddled bastard barking “mind the doors” lurking around disused subway tunnels and having it off with his equally inbred other half.
RAW MEAT (1972)
Director: Gary Sherman
The latest victim of ‘the man’ happens to be a high ranking government official who had it coming after a blurred neon montage follows him from a grotty strip club to a tube station where he wastes no time in aggressively pursuing a shady business deal involving his tummy banana and the peeling and or eating thereof. Having presumably had her fill for the day, the PVC clad object of his desire gives him a kick in the goolies and makes off with the proffered wodge of cash, leaving him exposed to attack from the subway monster.
Despite having gotten to within an inch of the hapless toff’s face, he is found unscathed and unconscious, strewn across the steps at the station by an American who dismisses his obnoxious behaviour by drawing comparisons to how things work ‘back home’ and his English hippy girlfriend who believes in peace, love and equality for all mankind and so is just as unlikeable.
Patricia insists that they notify someone immediately in case the man is seriously ill, but isn’t so concerned that she’d stay with him whilst Alex begrudgingly finds help. And so, by the time they return with the proper authorities the body has vanished, dragged off into the bowels of long forgotten tube tunnels to be served up as dinner to the sole surviving residents of a tribe of inbred creatures descended from a group of Victorian railway workers abandoned in a cave-in and thought to be dead.
They weren’t. Trapped behind a wall of dirt a couple of feet thick, with tools, provisions and a whole lot of subway to roam around in, these poor forgotten folk, victims of a callous industrial society, apparently thought ‘fuck it’, dropped their knickers and immediately started copulating, so no great loss to the general populous there. This same can-do attitude left them eating rats and contracting the plague before they finally attended to the pile of mud and stopped excavating after making a hole just big enough to squeeze through to pop out to the nearest station platform, club dinner on the head and lug it back to the pantry.
Despite feeding his pregnant mate the richest of English blood, she kicks the bucket and in a sorrow induced fit of rage and despair, the firmly established murderous cannibal leaves his warren to do the unthinkable – kill some more people. He manages to take down a trio of healthy men and for extra flair, stabs one of them with the deadliest of weapons… a broom.
Meanwhile the disappearance of the nobby chap from earlier has been taken quite seriously. So much so that Christopher Lee is sent in to menace the local Fuzz for a minute or two, warning them off a case beyond their basic levels of policing and earning a big fat space in the credit sequence.
Not to be intimidated, the two man comedy-routine-come-law-enforcement-officers begin a thorough investigation that entails badgering students and getting in a cheeky pint when no one’s looking.
Meanwhile, Patricia gets herself kidnapped at the station that always seems to be mysteriously bereft of members of the public and wakens to find herself in the clutches of ‘the man’ who has essentially decided to mate with her, despite receiving a clear signal that she’s not interested in the form of several dings around the earhole. Convinced that she need only be wooed, he clears her holding cell of rats before attempting to cop a feel.
Patricia stops gibbering long enough to make a dash for freedom but the sheer noise of her heels bouncing around the tunnels as she sprints through the underground maze allows ‘the man’ to track her as he shambles along at a pace a pensioner would be embarrassed about yet simultaneously managing to remain a few steps behind her, because otherwise where’s the tension at? Back on the surface, Alex twigs that his girlfriend has been kidnapped by a subway monster and ventures down into the darkness to rescue her.
Will Alex get to Patricia before she turns into a lesion encrusted vessel for the next generation of inbred morlocks? Will the police get off their arses and actually do some work? Did Christopher Lee deserve to be in the opening credits for all of 10 seconds work? Find out in Raw Meat.