Essex Spacebin: A Transgalactic Binfire of Schizophrenic Brilliance

Essex Spacebin: A Transgalactic Binfire of Schizophrenic Brilliance *Essex Spacebin* (2016), directed by the Chelmsford lunatics David Hollinshead and Philip Thompson, isn’t some poxy film - it roars through the cosmos like a bin lorry piloted by a mad Rasta, a 79-minute, lager-soaked orgasm of surreal chaos that shits pure, glitter-dusted anarchy onto the canvas of human sanity. Your *2001: A Space Odyssey*? A pompous snooze. Your *Citizen Kane*? A wanky relic. This, you philistines, is cinema’s Everest, a Troma-distributed, 35mm-shot miracle that makes Kubrick look like a geography teacher filming a nativity play on his Blackberry. Lorraine Malby, starring as a portal-chasing Essex nutter, guided by a mystical Rasta and a Nissan Skyline, delivers a performance so unhinged it’s practically a religious experience. In 2025, while lesser films cower like damp socks in a Basildon skip, *Essex Spacebin* reigns as a bin-bag-toting god, and we’re here to genuflect with a *Brass Eye*-style hymn of deranged, laugh-out-loud madness that’ll make your brain implode and your ribs crack like a kebab shop chair at 4 a.m. > **Lorraine Malby doesn’t act, she channels the 7th Realm, her every wild-eyed rant a cosmic signal to aliens who’ve clearly nicked her wheelie bin.** > - Film Fanatics on the film’s transcendent lead A Plot That Kicks Reality in the Knackers What’s the story? Christ, where do you start with a plot that dances through Chelmsford like a pissed nan on a hen do, waving a chicken wing and screaming about stargates? Lorraine Willy (Lorraine Malby, an Essex oracle with the aura of a bingo caller who’s seen God in a Wetherspoons loo) believes a portal to the 7th Realm - a dimension of pure, glittery chaos - hides in the greasy backstreets of Essex. Guided by Hogan, a Rastafarian guru who’s half Bob Marley, half dodgy eBay scammer selling knockoff portals, she hunts a “star key,” armed with mates, family, a Nissan Skyline, and a PDF of Amen-Ra’s Essex Pyramid blueprints, probably nicked from a conspiracy forum. Subplots? Oh, mate, they’re everywhere - Hogan’s donation scams, Lorraine’s Agent Orange origin story like she’s a budget Wolverine, a geezer worshipping fried chicken in a carpark, all swirling together in a narrative so mental it makes *Inception* look like a colouring book. Every scene’s a banger. Lorraine’s rants about portals? Pure shamanic poetry, each word a sonic Molotov cocktail lobbed at reality’s face. The Skyline chase through Chelmsford’s dodgiest estates? Why settle for *Mad Max* when you’ve got a Nissan roaring like a cosmic hoover sucking up the M25? And that bloke with the chicken wings, munching like he’s communing with the poultry gods? He’s no extra - he’s a prophet, his greasy fingers tracing the secrets of the universe. Social media cinephiles, screaming “Essex!” at cult screenings, get it: this isn’t a plot, it’s a bloody revelation, a story so chaotic it laughs at *Pulp Fiction*’s linear nonsense. > **What’s a Nissan Skyline in Chelmsford? A roaring chariot to the stars, tearing through Essex like a comet with a dodgy MOT.** > - Film Fanatics on the film’s vehicular majesty Characters That Dance on the Edge of Sanity Lorraine Willy, played by Malby, is a cosmic binwoman, her tracksuit a holy robe, her wild-eyed stares a sermon that’d make Jesus bin his carpentry tools and move to Clacton. Acting? Bollocks - she’s channeling the 7th Realm, every “The portal’s real!” a cry that could summon UFOs or at least scare the shit out of a kebab shop queue. Hogan, the Rasta guru, isn’t some conman - he oozes wisdom like a galactic Del Boy, his dreads a beacon, his scams a philosophical rebuke to capitalism’s dreary grip. The supporting cast? Caryl Griffith as a mate who’s half-cheerleader, half-lunatic, Joerg Stadler looking like he’s lost a bet with a *Harry Potter* casting director, and a random kid who might be Lorraine’s nephew or just a stray who nicked a chip. These aren’t characters - they’re Essex deities, prancing through a carpark Valhalla like it’s the sodding Pleiades. Then you’ve got the randoms: a geezer who looks like he’s auditioning for a knockoff *EastEnders*, a woman muttering about pyramids in a chippy, a bloke eating chicken like it’s the key to immortality. Why are they there? Because Hollinshead and Thompson are sculpting a pantheon, not a cast, each nutter a stroke in their deranged Sistine Chapel. Social media’s buzzing with fans calling Lorraine a “cult icon,” and they’re bang on - she’s the Kurt Russell we never got, a binwoman of the cosmos who makes *The Room*’s Johnny look like a soggy tea towel. > **Hogan’s scams? Not fraud, but a cosmic hustle, fleecing mortals to fund Lorraine’s quest to the 7th Realm’s intergalactic chip shop.** > - Film Fanatics on the film’s mystical guide Visuals That Spit in Reality’s Eye The visuals? A low-res apocalypse, shot on 35mm in Chelmsford’s grimiest corners like a punk rock love letter to Britain’s shittiest carparks. Every frame’s a masterpiece of glorious incompetence - chip shops glowing like UFO landing sites, alleys that scream “post-apocalyptic Costa,” and CGI stargates so crap they make *Birdemic*’s clipart birds look like *Avatar*. But crap? Never! Those portals are avant-garde, shimmering like disco balls from Poundland, laughing at Hollywood’s overpriced CGI wank. The camera work - shaky handicam lurching into zooms like a drunk uncle at a wedding - isn’t amateur, it’s a rebellion, spitting in the face of linear reality until Tarkovsky’s crying into his vodka. The soundtrack, by [Ceephax Acid Crew](https://ceephax.bandcamp.com/), is a jungle-rave banger, each bass drop a signal to the 7th Realm, like a rave in a skip hosted by a sentient kebab. Compare that to *Star Wars*’s recycled John Williams tosh or *Barbie*’s auto-tuned pop pish - this is music that rewires your soul, like a hit of pure, uncut Essex madness brewed in a back-alley fryer. The practical effects - tinfoil spaceships, portals that look like they were coded by a hungover intern - are revolutionary, a DIY snog to Lucasfilm’s bloated budgets. Social media cinephiles, chanting “Spacebin!” at screenings, aren’t mocking - they’re worshipping, hurling bin bags like it’s the Olympic refuse toss. > **Those CGI portals don’t glitch, they shimmer with the anarchic glow of a Chelmsford disco ball, mocking Hollywood’s pixel-perfect bollocks.** > - Film Fanatics on the film’s visual rebellion A Cultural Landfill That Eats the Haters The nerd horde’s love for *Essex Spacebin* isn’t fandom, it’s a bloody cult, a religion for those who’d rather lob bin bags than kneel to Hollywood’s corporate tripe. With a [4.8 IMDb rating](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5442304/) (a crime by critics too dense to see genius), and a global following packing Troma double-bills with *The Toxic Avenger*, it’s clear Hollinshead and Thompson have tapped into something primal, like a caveman finding fire or a geezer finding a tenner in a kebab shop bog. Social media’s ablaze with fans quoting Lorraine’s “The portal’s real!” like it’s the sodding Gospel, while North American geeks stream it on [Amazon Prime](https://letterboxd.com/film/essex-spacebin/), screaming “Essex!” like it’s a pagan ritual on a bender. Europe’s arthouse snobs call it “Lynchian,” stroking their chins like pretentious twats in a vegan craft ale bar, while Asia’s lapped up its chaotic energy like a K-drama scripted by a lunatic on a Red Bull binge. Haters? Joyless pricks who call it “rubbish” or “unwatchable,” their brains calcified by *Dune*’s sandworm wank or *Barbie*’s pink propaganda. Social media posts hailing *Essex Spacebin* as a “cult classic” are gospel, preached by disciples who know it’s a cultural landfill, a singularity of brilliance that’s redefined cinema. Budget? Probably less than a round at the local. Box office? Peanuts, but who cares? It wasn’t made for money - it was made for the bloody cosmos, possibly funded by Lorraine flogging her Skyline to a sentient chip shop run by Amen-Ra himself. Troma's [distribution deal](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5442304/companycredits/), grinning like a deranged uncle, slaps its seal of approval on this binfire, and that's worth more than a thousand Oscars. > **Haters call it rubbish? They’re just blind to a film that’s a cosmic landfill, torching mediocrity with a greasy chicken wing and a grin.** > - Film Fanatics on the cult worship of *Essex Spacebin* Why This Is a Transgalactic Bloody Miracle *Essex Spacebin* is a transgalactic bloody miracle, a film so unhinged it makes every other movie look like a PowerPoint for accountants with no soul. Hollinshead and Thompson aren’t directors, they’re Chelmsford prophets, weaving a 35mm tapestry with pocket lint and a dream bigger than a supernova on steroids. Lorraine’s portal rants? A cry to the stars, each word a Molotov cocktail lobbed at reality’s smug face. The Skyline? A chariot tearing through Essex like a comet with a dodgy MOT, screaming “7th Realm or bust!” The chicken-wing geezer? A sage, his greasy fingers tracing the secrets of existence like a drunk Da Vinci in a KFC. In 2025, as cinema drowns in corporate bollocks, *Essex Spacebin* is a beacon of hope, a film that dares you to laugh, cry, and lob bin bags at the screen like a Viking berserker on a speed bender. It's not a movie - it's a bloody apocalypse of brilliance, a masterpiece that makes *2001: A Space Odyssey* look like a soggy fag end in a Chelmsford carpark. Bow down to Lorraine Malby, you philistines, and let *Essex Spacebin* rocket you to the 7th Realm. It's the greatest thing you'll ever witness, and if you disagree, you're probably a robot, a twat, or a robot twat with no soul. Grab a bin bag, watch it, and join the sodding revolution. --- Test Your Cult Film Knowledge Think you know your cosmic cinema? Challenge yourself: - **[Emoji Plot](/games/emoji-plot)** - Decode movie plots told in emojis - **[Frame-a-Day](/games/frame-a-day)** - Identify films from a single screenshot - **[Movie Tagline](/games/movie-tagline)** - Match iconic taglines to their films Related Articles - [The Room: Tommy Wiseau's Cosmic Genius](/articles/the-room-tommy-wiseaus-cosmic-genius-a-spoon-hurling-miracle) - Another so-bad-it's-brilliant masterpiece - [Top 10 Comedy Movies of All Time](/articles/top-10-comedy-movies-of-all-time-laughs-chaos-and-questionable-fashion-choices) - Intentionally funny classics