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"Slow Torture Puke Chamber"
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By: Pamela Torres
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"What's next, Master? Tell me what you want..."
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As some of you slobbering Punk Globian perverts know, last
October I got to conduct a rather stimulating interview with
adult film director Lucifer Valentine. Recently, he was nice
enough to mail me a screener copy of what would be the final
installment of his infamous 'vomit gore' trilogy, "Slow Torture
Puke Chamber," which was officially released on DVD by Unearthed
Films on July 27th and will be unleashed again in a sadistic
triple box set this October. Take it from me: as a frequent
watcher of video horror nasties, I can guarantee that this sick
and graphic 75 minute David Lynch-style arthouse hallucination
(which signals the debut of Hope Likens, a new actress with nice
tits, icy blue eyes, and tattoos) is intended to make porn
addicts all over the country splotch themselves with barf and
semen. All three of Mr. Valentine's Lithium-induced works (the
previous two being "Slaughtered Vomit Dolls" and "Regoregitated
Sacrifice") may as well have been delirously jacked off to life
by Satan himself.
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One of the first new things I've noticed upon watching "Slow
Torture" is that for the first time, there's an opening credit
sequence! And it's a trippy one too with a montage of a bizzare,
almost psychedelic 1970's plastic doll commercial for children
intercut with a stripping black and white pin-up model and
grainy stock footage of breeding grasshoppers and arachnids
(which occasionally pop up again throughout the rest of the
movie to symbolize the constant birth-to-death cycle of
immorality). Underneath the sadomasochism, golden showers and
buckets of acidic stomach-ripping tar puke, the basic plotline
of "Slow Torture Puke Chamber" involves the reincarnation (if
you will) of Angela "Blisters" Aberdeen, the 19-year-old runaway
bulimic skank who sold herself into prostitution and was driven
to suicide on April 5, 1994. The Devil forces her to appear back
on Earth in a new body (that of Hope Likens) only to be ravaged
and ruined all over again by rape, eating disorders, and an
unbearable crapload of low self-esteem. In the first 40-
something minutes or so, viewers will witness Hope getting
violently slapped, punched and gagged with a liquor bottle by
her "master" while at the same time she speaks in a candid,
off-screen interview about the joy she gets out of binging and
purging her daily calories (mainly fueled by the incestuous
relationship she had with her father as well as his alleged
attempts to kill himself with antidepressants). There are a
couple of scenes here and there where Hope's depraved, whorish
activites are cleverly intercut with similar ones secretly done
by Ameara Lavey's now deceased Angela, as if the there existed
two sides of an invisible, inter-dimensional mirror. At first,
the two young ladies are shown in close-ups doing innocuous
things like applying mascara and modeling in front of the
camera, but then it escalates to masturbating with crucifixes
and vomiting on themselves. I remember specifically one moment
in which Hope and Ameara are shot in two separate places: The
tangled haired Hope is awkwardly posing and crawling around in a
white-washed apartment while Ameara takes her red top off in a
hotel room. Yet, as Ameara stares at the lens and bends over
with her perfectly skinny Karen Carpenter frame, it's almost as
if she's taunting and humiliating Hope, saying "You can never be
like me. You're just a fat, gluttonous pig and I'm too beautiful
for you to catch up!"
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If images of Miss Lavey squat-pissing on a drinking glass or
Hope devouring handfuls of birthday cake icing infested with
live grasshoppers doesn't gross you out enough, then how would
you like to see a heavy, big-breasted slut in a fishnet bodysuit
being hit repeatedly on the face with her own stained tampon or
Ameara shamelessly letting a client urinate into her mouth? Yes,
there's a whole lot of that in this flick. But the gory climax
occurs when regurgitation exploitation veteran Hank Skinny
perpetrates the most gruesome and messy botched C-section ever
to be captured on screen since Julien Maury and Alexandre
Bustillo's "A I'interieur." Oh, but he doesn't stop there. To
forcefeed audiences the unrepairable damage that child abuse can
cause in one's mind and heart, Hank bites on the baby's face,
ass-fucks the bloody rubber fetus, hacks it to pieces, puts the
tiny head and legs in an electric blender, and chugs down the
entire cocktail only to vomit the stillborn guts over and over
again in huge quantities.
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If the baby decapitating scene in "Fetus" made you cry murder,
then you better not buy "Slow Torture!". This DVD is not for the
fucking squeamish!
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"Big girls keep secrets...!"
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