Classic 18: Wishmaster (1997)

Sorry I haven’t updated in a while – it’s just my willy’s been going in and out of so many vaginas I haven’t had enough time, you know the DRILL.  But fret not, for I am back, and I’ve got another sweet review for you to pat your bum-eye to.

Back when Wes Craven was good (i.e before he was making sub-par films like My Soul to Take and Scre4m) he produced this little gem.  Actually, it’s not a little gem, it’s a stonking rock-hard boner of one.  It’s directed by Robert Kurtzman (of the Holy Triumvirate of movie gore effects – K.N.B) and it’s really bloody good.  Emphasis on the bloody.

It’s basically about this genie thing (a Djinn) with two funny dicks that come out of his head and rest on his shoulders, and he comes out of a magical stone and grants people wishes.  Only he’s a right crafty fucker and he messes them all up – like one girl asks to be beautiful forever, so he turns her into a mannequin.  Another guy asks for his party to be a really memorable one so the genie makes the piano wires come out and start twatting people’s heads off.  He’s doing this not just because it’s a bit of fun, but also because if he grants the person who released him from the purple gem three wishes, he can get all his laddish mates to come to earth and start shagging women and chinning lagers or some shit.

Can you see the little shoulder dicks?

Wishmaster is just an excuse for some really amazing gore scenes.  That’s it.  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my large penis sellotaped to a sub-woofer is good enough for me.  And if it’s not good enough for you, then I dare say you’d better buck your fucking ideas up you saggy plank, and pack your fucking bags, cos YOU’RE OUTTA HERE, NEIGHBORINO.

It also helps that it has one of the best bad guys in the history of horror movies – Andrew Divoff as Nathaniel Demerest.  I WISH I had a name that cool.

Oops, he’s changed my name to Ice Cube.

But yeah, Andrew Divoff is such a smarmy prick in this film and it works so well – he’s the epitome of shifty arseholishness.  That’s something for my gravestone.

All in all, it’s review-proof – because it’s pretty much just a collection of scenes of people getting royally fucked over by a massive twat.  And Robert Englund is in it. And so is Kane Hodder. And so is Reggie Bannister. And so is Tony Todd. And so is Ted Raimi. And so is Angus Scrimm.

Seriously, show me another cast like that and I’ll show you a 1 second glimpse of my left bollock.

Also, just on the off chance that you do ever meet a Djinn, don’t wish for a massive dick and and endless supply of jizz – it seriously brings more trouble than it’s worth.  TRUST ME.

I give it 10 18s out of 10 (I cannot fault it in any way).

 

Wait, yes I can – the ending is shit.

 

 

Also, the whole film would be have been over in five minutes if the main character had just said ‘I wish the Djinn never existed.’

 

 

 

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