shining

THE SHINING. 1980. DIRECTED BY STANLEY KUBRICK. STARRING JACK NICHOLSON AND SHELLEY DUVALL. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

shining

THE SHINING. 1980. BASED ON THE NOVEL BY STEPHEN KING. PRODUCED AND DIRECTED BY STANLEY KUBRICK. STARRING JACK NICHOLSON AND SHELLEY DUVALL. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

This is a good ‘un. Some Stephen King novels- not all of them- make for fantastic films. CARRIE is one of these. Ditto MISERY, MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE and DOLORES CLAIBORNE. THE SHINING is definitely another. The plot is a real corker. Let’s have a brief overview.

Jack Torrance, clearly not one of life’s winners, takes a job as seasonal caretaker at the isolated Overlook Hotel. He and his wife Wendy and young son Danny will live by themselves in the hotel all winter and keep things ticking over until the staff and guests return in the summer.

Sounds like a cushy number, but there are downsides. One of these is the sheer isolation of the hotel’s location. There won’t be a soul for miles around, added to which they’ll definitely be snowed in at some point as well.

More importantly, though, is the fact that a previous caretaker went cuckoo-bananas during the long cold winter months and ran amok with an axe, killing his wife and twin daughters. Will Jack be able to handle the job, his new employers ask him? Sure thing, he tells them. No problem. When do I start…?

By the way, did I forget to mention that the hotel was built on the site of a Native American burial ground? I did? Whoopsies. How silly of me. That ought to explain every gosh-darned thing that happens in the film from this point on.

The Torrance family move into the hotel, lock, stock and barrel. Straight-away we see that Jack, brilliantly played by Jack Nicholson, is ever-so-slightly below par as a husband and father, maybe even verging on the abusive. A month at the Overlook does nothing to improve his foul temper.

Jack sits around the place pretending to write his version of the great American novel, all the while growing weirder and less and less communicative and civil towards his long-suffering wife.

Then one day cute little Danny, who has the ability to read minds (the shining) and predict the future, encounters a crazy lady in the bathroom of one of the supposed-to-be-empty hotel bedrooms and, what’s more, he has the scars to prove it…

THE SHINING is a masterclass in tension-building. Not only do we already know that something horrible has happened in this accursed hotel, but at every turn we’re confronted with hints and indications that something just as bad, or maybe even worse, is fast coming down the track.

Jack Nicholson gives a faultless performance as the man who is growing crazier with each passing day. Shelley Duvall is equally convincing as the wife who has to face the chilling fact that her husband, the man who’s supposed to love and protect her, is quite possibly the biggest threat to her and her little boy’s safety.

The film has given us a load of much-parodied and imitated iconic images and memes: ‘Here’s Johnny…!’ as Jack Nicholson chops down the bathroom door with his axe, the freaky identical twin girls, the blood and the lift and, of course, ‘redrum.’

The colours and patterns used in the hotel’s decor- the burnt orange, brown and yellow swirls and checks so popular in the ‘Seventies- add to the claustrophobic feel of this supposedly spacious hotel and help to ramp up the tension several notches more.

Throw in a great script, great direction and a catalogue of ever-increasing shocks and you’ve got yourself a masterpiece. I don’t think there’s any more that I can add, really. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go and take my bath now…

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

rear-window-grace-kelly-swooping

REAR WINDOW. 1954. DIRECTED BY ALFRED HITCHCOCK. STARRING JAMES STEWART, GRACE KELLY, RAYMOND BURR, THELMA RITTER AND WENDELL COREY. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

rear-window-grace-kelly-swooping

REAR WINDOW. 1954. DIRECTED BY ALFRED HITCHCOCK. STARRING JAMES STEWART, GRACE KELLY, RAYMOND BURR. THELMA RITTER AND WENDELL COREY. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

This film is a classic, without a shadow of a doubt. (See what I did there…?) Most people class it as being amongst director Alfred Hitchcock’s finest achievements, along with PSYCHO and VERTIGO, this last also starring James Stewart. I prefer VERTIGO to REAR WINDOW, but only by a margin, and it certainly doesn’t mean that REAR WINDOW isn’t one of the most memorable films ever made.

Everyone knows the basic plot, I think. James Stewart, playing L. B. Jeffries, has broken his leg in the course of his duties as a photographer for a magazine that seems to be something along the lines of National Geographic. Consequently, he must spend six long weeks stuck in his sweltering Greenwich Village apartment with nothing to do but look out the window at his neighbours.

I had the privilege of seeing the film on the big screen recently as part of a season of classics and you could literally see every drop of sweat on James Stewart’s face as he twisted and turned in his wheelchair trying to get comfortable. It was great…!

L. B., or Jeff, as his beautiful girfriend Lisa refers to him, has an intimate view into the homes of his neighbours. The courtyard and the surrounding apartments are filled with men and women- and dogs!- all living their lives as best they can and over the course of the film, we get to know a few of them quite well.

The beautiful Miss Torso has many suitors, but whom will she ultimately choose? Miss Lonely Hearts has none at all, but something is keeping her from taking the step from which there will be no going back. What is it? Mr. and Mrs. Newly-Wed have only one thing on their minds, but can even that get boring after a while? We’ll soon find out…

The neighbours and the apartments are all fantastically-realised. The colour and clutter and noise of them all is fascinating to watch, for Jeff as well as for the viewer. The neighbour that interests Jeff the most, however, is the man who one day has an invalid wife, but whom the next day has no wife at all. Not only does he no longer seem to have a wife, but what he does have, namely, a trunk, a saw and a sharp, nasty-looking knife, take on sinister connotations indeed for Jeff.

Jeff becomes convinced that Mr. Salesman, played by Raymond Burr, aka Perry Mason, has killed his wife and placed her body in the trunk. He involves his marriage-minded girlfriend, Lisa Freemont, Stella, the hard-bitten, crotchety but ultimately lovable insurance company nurse and a detective pal of his in his conspiracy theories. Is Jeff right? Is he wrong? Time will tell.

Grace Kelly as Lisa is almost unbelievably glamorous. She adds a touch of pure class to the entire proceedings. I hadn’t really realised how beautiful she was until I saw her face on the big screen. Thelma Ritter and Wendell Corey provide fine support and Alfred Hitchcock makes his customary cameo appearance as a visitor to Mr. Music Man’s apartment across the way from Jeff’s.

This is just such a superb film that it’s hard to do it justice in a mere review. Drop what you’re doing and go and watch it. Meet me back here afterwards and tell me what you think. Oh, and don’t forget the popcorn! It goes surprisingly well with murder…

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

wicker-man-1_610_407shar_s_c1

THE WICKER MAN. 1973. SCREENPLAY BY ANTHONY SHAFFER. DIRECTED BY ROBIN HARDY. STARRING CHRISTOPHER LEE AND EDWARD WOODWARD. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

wicker-man-1_610_407shar_s_c1

THE WICKER MAN. 1973. SCREENPLAY BY ANTHONY SHAFFER. DIRECTED BY ROBIN HARDY. STARRING CHRISTOPHER LEE AND EDWARD WOODWARD. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

This is a superior horror film. It’s considered by many to be the best British horror film ever made- I concur- and legendary actor Christopher Lee is said to consider his performance as Lord Summerisle in the cult movie to be his finest. I graciously concur once more.

If I sat here for a thousand years, I couldn’t think of anything derogatory to say about the film, so yes, my review will be nothing more than a great big THE WICKER MAN love-in, haha. Read on if that’s your thing.

Flawless performances by a superior cast make for mesmerising viewing. Edward Woodward plays Sergeant Neil Howie, a straight-laced, upright Christian police officer who travels to the nearby Scottish island of Summerisle to investigate a report of a missing child from an anonymous source.

The people of Summerisle are a mighty strange bunch and immediately set about leading poor old Sergeant Howie a merry dance. He is fed any number of conflicting snippets of information about Rowan Morrison, the missing child, which frustrate him no end and eventually cause him to doubt the veracity of anything he is told by these weird, insular people.

As if that weren’t bad enough, Howie is bewildered and befuddled by the apparent lack of any morals or good Christian values on the heathen island of Summerisle. Men and women engage openly in a sexual free-for-all that mortifies the virginal Sergeant.

The islanders worship what they call ‘the old gods,’ the god of the sun and the god of the sea, and don’t attend any kind of church services, even supposing they had any working churches in which to hold them.

There is a deliciously pagan feel to the film that quite simply transports the viewer back a thousand years to more primitive, godless ancient times. Women dance naked around open fires in the hopes of being made fertile. (‘They do love their divinity lessons…’)

Schoolchildren are taught to ‘venerate the penis’ because that is the source of all life. Makes sense, I suppose…! The islanders are encouraged to ‘appease’ their Celtic gods with sacrifices in order to ensure a plentiful harvest of apples, the main source of industry and income on Summerisle.

Christopher Lee puts on a show-stopping performance as the devastatingly handsome and aristocratic Lord Summerisle, lord of all he surveys and unquestioned leader of his people. He is ably supported by three beautiful blonde females in the shape of Diane Cilento, Ingrid Pitt and Britt Ekland.

Every part, not just the main ones, is perfectly cast. Some of the ‘minor’ characters, like the gravedigger, Willow’s father, the hairdresser who utters not one single word, Ash Buchanan and Oak, and the old men, led by the Harbour Master, who greet Howie on his arrival are all worthy of mention, so capably do they play their parts.

The horror mounts as the all-important Mayday approaches and, by the time Sergeant Howie finally discovers exactly why he’s been summoned to Summerisle, the viewer is staring wide-eyed at the screen, appalled both at the poor man’s fate and at the knowledge that he’s not the first to which such things have happened and he may not even be the last.

A word about the music. Performed by the specially-formed group Magnet, it’s seriously sexy and complements the action beautifully. I’m being totally serious when I say that I can never hear the opening strains of ‘Gently, Johnny’ without wanting to rip all my own clothes off and engage in the wildest, hottest, most primeval sexual activity imaginable. Ahem. Just watch the film. You’ll see what I mean.

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

Featured Image -- 2266

WHY I’M (NOT) BRINGING EX-Y BACK. BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

Originally posted on sex and boobs and custard creams:

couple-caught-having-sex

WHY I’M (NOT) BRINGING EX-Y BACK. BY SANDRA HARRIS.©

I recently turned down the chance of a booty call with an ex from a few years back. There’s nothing wrong with the guy as such. An exchange of recent photos via Facebook revealed that he’d kept his trim figure and most of his hair. He still likes to do all the things he enjoyed back then. You know, oral, anal, bit of bondage, spanking, roleplay. All the usual stuff. Stuff I engaged in whole-heartedly with him back then and which I still enjoy to this day. So why didn’t I take him up on his offer?

I’m not really sure. It’s not like I couldn’t do with the sex. Months and months of locking myself away penning my novel, blogging my ass off and just generally trying to make it as a writer have left me as sex-starved as… Well…

View original 721 more words

fifty shades of grey

FIFTY SHADES OF GREY. 2015. BASED ON THE BOOK BY EL JAMES. DIRECTED BY SAM TAYLOR-JOHNSON. STARRING DAKOTA JOHNSON AND JAMIE DORNAN. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

fifty shades of grey

FIFTY SHADES OF GREY. 2015. BASED ON THE BOOK BY EL JAMES. DIRECTED BY SAM TAYLOR-JOHNSON. STARRING DAKOTA JOHNSON AND JAMIE DORNAN. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

Slagging off the FIFTY SHADES OF GREY books and their author EL James has been a popular pastime since the phenomenon exploded onto the literary scene in 2012. I, however, am not one of the detractors, naysayers and denigrators.

I’m happy to go on record as saying that I enjoyed the trilogy of books immensely and I have nothing but respect and admiration for EL James. If I could achieve in my entire lifetime even a fraction of the success she’s enjoyed in the last two or three years, I’d die a happy writer.

Clearly I’m not the only one who feels the same about FIFTY SHADES. So many millions of women purchased the sexy books that the term ‘mummy porn’ was coined for this type of writing. A whole new generation of readers and writers of erotica has been born.

While I’m not sure how many women would actually go into a hardware store to buy cable ties, I do know how huge the genre of erotic writing has become in the last few years, thanks in no small part to FIFTY SHADES. Right. Now that I’ve gotten that little lot off my chest, let’s talk about the plot of this film that’s on everyone’s lips right now.

I think most people are familiar with the basic plot of the film, which as far as I could see has been pretty faithful to the book. Shy, virginal (literally!) English Literature student Anastasia Steele meets and falls head over heels (also literally…!) in love with handsome Seattle-based millionaire, Christian Grey. So far so normal, right…? Wrong.

Christian is your average handsome millionaire in all respects but one. He’s into kinky sex in a big, big way. You name it, he digs it. Spanking, whipping, blindfolds, bondage, fisting- both anal and vaginal…!- and a whole host of other depraved pursuits, all of which he wants to do to Anastasia in what she terms his ‘Red Room Of Pain.’

We see Anastasia losing her virginity to Christian in full technicolor glory, as it were, and then having sex with him almost non-stop for the rest of the film. You see everything. Well, nearly. You don’t see Christian’s willy, but believe me, you see everything else.

Before I went to see the film, I’d heard that people were disappointed with the fact that there wasn’t more sex in it. Whaaaat…? There’s nothing but sex in it! Sex, spanking, flogging, whipping, pretty much everything that’s in the book, as far as I can remember. The two leads spend most of the movie running around in the nip, for crying out loud!

I don’t know what those ungrateful peeps were moaning about. The movie has so much sex in it that I can barely remember there being that many bits of plot in it. But that’s okay, because everyone knows that it’s the sex-and-spanking that’s important here.

Let’s take a moment to discuss the leads. I don’t like Jamie Dornan, I’m sorry to say. I know he’s a big sex symbol at the moment and has been incredibly successful in drama series THE FALL, but I just don’t dig him in that way. Sexually. You know what I mean.

There’s something just a bit off about his features, to me. Like someone whacked him in the face with a shovel or something and he didn’t bounce back quite right. I know that’s getting a bit personal but it’s all right, I’m a reviewer. We’re allowed to do that.

Rob Kazinsky of Eastenders and True Blood fame, now there’s a man I would be happy to watch getting all nekkid and jiggy with it. That might be something for the producers to consider when they’re casting for the two sequels. I’m just saying, is all.

So much for Jamie Dornan. Dakota Johnson, on the other hand, is a different matter. She’s gorgeous, with a slender body, bright blue eyes and a moist, red mobile mouth, and she’s utterly perfect for the role of unsophisticated Anastasia.

I’m the straightest woman you could ever meet in a month of Sundays, but I could not take my eyes off her for a single second she was on-screen. She’s mesmerising. Mind you, she is acting royalty, after all, seeing that she’s the grand-daughter of Tippi Hedren, one of Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘ice-cool blondes’ and star of hugely successful horror film, THE BIRDS.

FIFTY SHADES OF GREY is a terrific old sexy romp of a movie, and there’s quite a bit of intentional humour in it as well, which was fun. And besides, now that both THE LORD OF THE RINGS and THE HOBBIT trilogies are over for good, it’s so nice to have a humongous movie franchise- with sequels!- to get excited about again.

Wait, who’s that at the door? Oh yeah, right. Angry Tolkien fans queuing up to slaughter me horribly for daring to compare the two. Well, I do dare, okay? I’m tired of so-called literary snobs looking down their noses at FIFTY SHADES.

Okay, so it ain’t Tolstoy- or Tolkien- but the books are a jolly good read and they’ve brought bondage and other sexy shenanigans out into the mainstream where they belong. That can only be a good thing, as far as I’m concerned.

Does the film perpetuate the somewhat dangerous myth that all a woman wants is a rich, dominant bloke who’ll pay for everything as long as he can give her the occasional good hiding into the bargain? Don’t ask me that. I don’t have the answer. Some people think that it does, but my personal jury’s still out on that one.

All I know for now is that I’m a FIFTY SHADES and EL James supporter for life and a die-hard fan of kinky sex to boot. Now, for the love of puppies, can somebody please tie me up and give me a good spanking…? It’s a full-on emergency…

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

dracula groupies

ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA. BOOK 2. PART 1. AN EROTIC HORROR STORY BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

dracula groupies

ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA. BOOK 2. PART 1. AN EROTIC HORROR STORY BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

“Where IS he…?” raged Anna, formerly Lady Anna Carfax of Richmond House in London, now Anna, the bride of Count Dracula and mother-to-be of his child. “Where is Count Dracula? Why does he leave me constantly alone when he knows that I need him with me?”

Anna’s normally pale cheeks were flushed and her bright blue eyes flashed like sapphires as she paced back and forth across the master bedroom like an animal in a cage.

“Shhh, Mistress,” soothed Valeria, the chief amongst the Count’s handmaidens. “You must not agitate yourself. It is not good for the child. The Master will be here soon.”

Valeria took Anna gently by the arm and led her back to the four-poster bed that Dracula shared with his bride. When he was actually there, that was, and not absent on the business which he habitually refused to disclose to Anna. Or to Valeria, for that matter.

“Go to him at once and tell him that I want him,” said Anna petulantly, tossing her long golden hair over her shoulders in a sulky gesture that Valeria knew well. “Hurry now, you wretched woman, or I shall order him to send you back to the dungeons. Permanently this time.”

Now it was Valeria’s turn to flush. For assisting Anna to leave Dracula’s castle to hunt for victims of her own, Valeria, the Count’s most loyal and reliable slave, had been thrown in the castle dungeons and savagely whipped by Dracula himself. Only the revelation that Anna was pregnant with the Count’s child and desired Valeria to be her constant companion throughout the period of gestation had saved Valeria from being left to rot in the dank, dark dungeons.

Now, Valeria sighed and turned towards the door. She did not look forward to disturbing the Count in his study. Anna was so bad-tempered lately. Valeria blamed the Count’s continuous lengthy absences from the castle, as indeed did Anna herself. She stopped dead when she saw the tall, dark-cloaked figure standing motionless in the doorway.

“I trust you are aware, both of you, that I cannot be ordered by such as you, or indeed by anyone,” said the Count. His tone was cold, but his dark eyes registered a flash of amusement at the stupidity of women.

“Master!” breathed Valeria, immediately dropping to her knees. Although she had been reinstated as Anna’s personal slave and companion, she was no longer Count Dracula’s most trusted servant and occasional confidante. That position had gone to Gloria.

Wicked, treacherous Gloria, with long hair as black as night and breasts so perfect they looked as if they had been sculpted from alabaster. Valeria hated Gloria. One day, she’d like to pay her back for usurping her. Now Valeria grovelled on the floor, naked and humiliatingly silent as befitted a lowly nude handmaiden who was neither allowed to address her Master nor to ever be clothed in his presence.

“Leave us,” ordered the Count.

Valeria crawled from the room on her hands and knees, careful not to raise her eyes to the Master. She did not need to see him, however, to be aware of his effect on her. Her nipples had grown hard and her womanly parts moist and hot the instant he had entered the room. She loved him more than her own life.

Part of her punishment for her betrayal, though, had been the withdrawal of his affection towards her. He occasionally condescended to use her mouth or her female parts as a receptacle for his life-fluid, for which she would forever be grateful, but he was always distant to her now, distant and cold.

Valeria wanted more than anything to be his confidante and help-meet again, but nevertheless she could not wish that she had not helped Anna to leave the castle on the nocturnal hunting trips which had so incurred the Master’s wrath. Valeria loved Anna too. She would do anything for her.

Alone with his bride, Count Dracula began casually to disrobe. Anna glared at him, furiously angry though she could feel her body beginning to betray her, beginning to respond to his presence. She was obliged to tilt her head almost fully back to look up into his coldly handsome face. His superior height of six foot five meant that most people were obliged to do the same.

Before Anna’s righteous anger could dissipate utterly in the face of the Count’s devastating sexual magnetism, she slapped the diamond cufflinks out of his hand and said:

“Where the hell do you think you’ve been…?”

This story is a work of fiction and comes (almost!) entirely from the imagination of Sandra Harris. Any resemblance to any persons living or un-dead is purely coincidental.

This story is copyrighted material and any reproduction without prior permission is illegal. Sandra Harris reserves the right to be identified as the author of this story.

Sandra Harris. ©

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

salem's lot

SALEM’S LOT. 2004. DIRECTED BY MIKAEL SALOMON. STARRING ROB LOWE, DONALD SUTHERLAND AND RUTGER HAUER. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

salem's lot

SALEM’S LOT. 2004. DIRECTED BY MIKAEL SALOMON. STARRING ROB LOWE, DONALD SUTHERLAND AND RUTGER HAUER. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

‘SALEM’S LOT’ is probably my favourite book of horror maestro Stephen King’s, so I was expecting a lot from this film. It does an acceptable enough job, but I must admit I was disappointed in places.

For one thing, the book is set very much in ‘Seventies America, which I personally love, but this film brings the action forward to the post-911 era. It’s a world where kids have cellphones and computers and I think this detracts from the spooky atmosphere a little bit, but what the hey. Let’s move to the plot.

Ben Mears is a writer who moves back to his New England hometown of Jerusalem’s Lot to rent the Marsten house, the scene of the most traumatic thing that’s ever happened to him. He has some idea in mind of coming to terms with his childhood nightmare, but unfortunately for Ben- and the rest of ‘Salem’s Lot- someone’s beaten him to the creepy old Marsden House.

Yep, a ferociously-bearded Donald Sutherland has purchased the house for his ‘partner’ in an antiques business, a business that is purely a front for… Well, for vampirism, actually. There’s a sentence you don’t get to use every day, haha. Kurt Barlow is actually a vampire as unpleasant as any you’d find on a day’s walk, as we say here in Ireland, birthplace of Bram Stoker and the original DRACULA story. I just had to get that in.

It isn’t long before the miasma of pure evil that surrounds Kurt Barlow has begun to infect the entire town, and it’s up to Ben as the protagonist to try and figure out a way to stop the Satanic shenanigans and save ‘Salem’s Lot.

This he attempts with the aid of a pimply kid, an Irish priest with a fondness for booze (Hey, that’s just blatant stereotyping…!), a schoolteacher, a blonde chick who acts before she thinks and a doctor whose Hippocratic Oath goes literally flying out the window the second he makes the beast with two backs with a young married patient…. Hmmm. Quite the motley crew, I think you’ll agree.

Does Ben and his raggle-taggle group of do-gooders manage to overthrow Kurt Barlow and save the town? I can’t tell you that, but I will say that I was disappointed with both the appearance and the language of the head vampire.

Clearly no-one’s told him about the Vampire Dress Code- yes, there is such a thing, look it up…!- and I can’t for one second imagine Christopher Lee’s icily aloof, sexually magnetic and properly-dressed(!) Dracula telling a potential victim to piss off, it’s just so beneath him it doesn’t even really need saying.

Well, that’s that, anyway. I was never really scared while watching this film, though that’s not to say that this remake of SALEM’S LOT is entirely without its good points.

The Marsten house is deliciously decrepit and exactly what you need in a good haunted house. Father Callahan’s ultimate fate is appropriately devastating for a man of the cloth, even a boozy one, and makes for compelling viewing. James Cromwell, who plays him, is perfectly cast as the tortured cleric. I could definitely see him playing a priest in an exorcism movie. He’d be great at that. ‘I renounce thee, Satan…!’ or whatever it is they say.

I recognised Dr. Jimmy Cody from Australian soap opera HOME AND AWAY on which he also plays a horny quack, so that was good fun, playing Where do I know him from?

Oh, just one more thing before I sign off. Donald Sutherland…? Santa Claus called, he wants his beard back…

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor