Rawhead Rex

Year: 1987
Rated: R
Run Time: 89 minutes
Production Company: Empire Pictures
Director: George Pavlou
Starring: David Dukes, Cora Lunny, Heinrich Von Schellendorf
T & A: Hell Yes
If You Really Love Me: You'll Wait Til We're Married

"He's Pure Evil. Pure Power. Pure Bullshit."

Oh yes: cotton. The look. The feel. The fabric of our lives. What would we ever do without its trusty absorbancy? Its gentle, two-ply ass wiping fart factor? Its unique texture that's both squeezably soft, yet strong as a rock when the going gets tough. Clean. Dependable. Cotton. It's a soothing textile for sure: One that will never leave your ass raw, even on Monday night. But not REX. Oh no. Unlike cotton, RAWHEAD REX is a dirty, tooth and nail fighting bastard. He'll rub you the wrong way (which is raw, you dick) the first opportunity he fucking gets. He's not very absorbant. He doesn't pick up stains worth a shit.... and if you tried to wipe your ass with his towering demonic person, you'd probably get a sabre-toothed fang lodged in your anus. In fact, 9 out of 10 ten doctors agree that if stranded on a desert island with RAWHEAD REX... they sooner wipe their ass with a giant rock lobster and lick their recta ejecta from the folds in its carapace (word power: +1) than let REX anywhere near their sacred cornhole. And the 10th doctor? The Doctor of Desire? Well... let's just say HE'S SASSY.

So who exactly is this fucker named REX, you ask? Is he RAW? Yes. Can he FLEX? No. SEX? Maybe so. Now, as far as the movie itself goes... I'm not exactly the most qualified Creep in the crypt to discuss the subtle nuances of diagetic sound and it's overall enhancement of the foreboding mise en scene utilized in RAWHEAD REX: so I won't even fucking try. However, I can sure as hell make up some shit and lay it on thick. So sit back, crank up JOCK JAMS VOLUME III, and get ready to stroke the 'ol flavor cannon: cause here comes REX.

RAWHEAD REX is the heartworming tale of an Irish farmer who finally decides to move that gigantic cock-shaped monolith that's been sitting in the middle of his potato patch since the dawn of time. With the aid of an enchanted rope, a mule with a carrot on her hat, and some magic leprechauns- he succeeds in moving the massive stone: and releases the pagan demon RAWHEAD REX from his death-like slumber within the earth. Once awakened, the gigantic RAWHEAD REX (who hates the Irish just like everyone else) goes on a massive killing spree that rampages all across rural Ireland. That is until Howard Hallenbeck, AN AMERICAN GODDAMMIT, pauses in his exciting historical tour of the Emerald Isle to whip some demon ass. Of course, along the way- everyone he meets gets eaten, pissed upon, or torn in half by RAWHEAD REX's terrifying demonic powers. But Howard Hallenbeck has some terrifying demonic powers of his own. Aside from the 12 inches of vanilla thunder he has in his trousers, his ability to bend bars / lift gates, and his ability to leap frog in a single bound: Hallenbeck has the power of PERCEPTION. A power that allows him to percept all over the fucking place: uncovering clues, connecting the dots, and ultimately discovering the arch-demon's weakness: PUSSY POWER.

Yes, PUSSY POWER. More potent than TURTLE POWER, and only slightly less intoxicating than MIGHTY MORPHIN' POWER. PUSSY POWER is what slays the wicked demon known as RAWHEAD REX. How so? In the form of flourescent PUSSY BEAMS that shoot out of the enchanted cunt of an ancient fertily goddess statuette. That's no shit, kids. The ending (Zod help your ass if you make it that fucking far) will dispell whatever is left of your manhood with its raw estrogenic pussy blast: so beware!

Consider yourself fortunate if you've never laid eyes on this fucking turd in any local video store. It means that someone out there is doing their fucking job: keeping America beautiful by boycotting this imported Irish shit. This movie just fucking blows cock in every category. But NERF clad psycho demons and ugly Irish titties are excusable: being boring as fuck is not. And that's just it: RAWHEAD REX never goes anywhere. It continues to drag along like a gorilla with an anchor up its ass. It's a non-stop Irish bore fest that had the entire NOTC review squad reminiscing about the good old days of TURBO GRAFX 16 and how much ass BONK'S ADVENTURE kicked. Slaves of the Creep Empire: this is just fucking sad. Sad Sad Sad. Hobo Fucking Clown Sad. I honestly have a tough time believing that I actually sat through this 90 minute shit fest and didn't drop a load of dinty moore beef steak in EL SANTO's official FALL GUY Refried Bean Bag Chair. I might jump from a burning building... or swing Tarzan from a vine: but I'm sure as shit not gonna subject myself to the rub-a-dub ass chub of RAWHEAD REX again. Fuck this turd!


Our Rating System

Z-man: "M.I.X. the shit into the bowl. Or why not go smoke a fat bowl? Shit, all the secret herbs 'n' spices in the Colonel's arsenal can't keep this jagged piece of alcoholic Irish shit from clogging up MY bowl. But that's a different bowl. A Toilet Bowl. A SUPER bowl."

Eagle Te: "General Zod deserves to have an aircraft carrier shoved up his ass for picking this steaming turd out! And the bastard didn't even stay to watch it...what a TOOL!"

El Santo: "Pain 101, that's what it's all about folks!!! This movie sucks dick, but at least I didn't pick it!!!!"

Merciful Buddha!