Four Horsemen Films

Friday the 13th Part 2 (1981)

2010-03-11T12:03:00.001-08:00

Friday the 13th, Part 2 (1981)

Written By: Ron Kurz

Directed By: Steve Miner

Starring: Amy Steel, John Furey, Adrienne King

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
It has become the prototypical device of any major Hollywood venture to produces sequels, prequels, and remakes in an effort to drive up sales on the original franchise for any 90-minute picture. Motion picture sequels got their start when Son of Kong made its debut the same year as King Kong, signaling the start of a glorious and altogether tainted legacy for any movie with a minimum of one follow-up.

Moviemakers worldwide pull no punches when making a new installment to capitalize on the previous one. How many sequels can you name that lived up to (or even surpassed) their predecessor? The short list may include The Godfather, Part II, The Empire Strikes Back, and arguable titles like Bad Boys 2 and Toy Story 2. To put it simply, that’s four titles in over 100 years of American cinema, making the list of cosmic failures desperately immense.

No genre has been slighted as badly by these macabre offspring quite like the horror genre. When talking about the pioneers of modern horror, you seldom hear of a film that left a legacy of sequels that were even “watchable,” much less decent. Each franchise gained its own cult status with a contingency of loyal fans dedicated to exploring the canon and background of their selected monsters, murderers, and madmen. But the same sentiments are echoed throughout all of this niche communities: the sequels fumbled where the originals scored.

Friday the 13th Part 2 is by no means a bad movie, but it is also not a very good one. Hurried along creatively in an effort to collect on the Summer success of the original, Part 2 diligently attempts to take on a brand new face (literally) and bridge the gap for further franchise exploitation. Using a clever plot device to go over the previous film’s events, Alice Hardy, the sole survivor of Pamela Voorhees’ gruesome Crystal Lake rampage, is attempting to salvage her life and put the pieces back together just months later. She fails, and is killed in a manner most anticlimactic just a scant 15 minutes into the production. I’d say that this was one of the moer disappointing aspects of Part 2’s mindless violence, but the same could be said of Count Dooku’s abrupt sendoff in Episode 3 after nearly all of Attack of the Clones was spent building his character. George Lucas stealing from horror movies? No wonder folks want him to skip on the Indy 5 discussion.

While we are led to believe that Alice’s death comes just months after the first massacre, the remainder of this movie is set five years afterward despite the filming having taken place just months after. Remember when the Jeepers Creepers sequel came out just a few years after the first despite the fact that the Creeper only comes out every 23 years? When you’re making money, you’re allowed to balk at continuity. Moving on.

Our new bunch of camp counselors are stationed at a campground adjacent to the condemned Camp Crystal Lake (what is this, Summer Camp Central?). They’re all given the horrifying details of what once happened over the hills and through the woods, but with a new twist: the townspeople apparently believe that Jason, the young boy who drowned and whose mother went on a killing spree, is still alive. Some say he’s protecting the woods from further deviance, and others claim he’s just fashioning himself an entrepreneurial business out of bear skins.

Basically, all you really need to know about our back story is that Jason is out for revenge for his drowning, the death of his mother, and any other things that piss him off on a day-to-day basis. With Jason in the fold, it is time to sit back and enjoy the bloodshed.

Body Count Roll Call:
Billy Hardy, Alice’s Son: Decapitated off-screen, the remaining head was stuffed into a refrigerator.
Alice Hardy, Former Camp Counselor, Sole Survivor of Friday the 13th: Gored with a screwdriver in the head.
Crazy Ralph, Superstitious Townsperson: Strangled against a tree with a wire.
Cop: Struck in the head with a claw hammer.
Scott, Camp Counselor: Throat slit with backend of a machete whilst hanging upside down.
Terry, Camp Counselor: Killed off-screen.
Mark, Handicapped Camp Counselor: Slashed in the face with the backend of a machete, then sent plummeting down a staircase in his wheelchair in the rain.
Jeff, Camp Counselor: Impaled with a spear while cuddling naked with Sandra (he was on top).
Sandra, Camp Counselor: Impaled with a spear while cuddling naked with Jeff (she was on bottom).
Vickie, Camp Counselor: Stabbed in the leg and chest.

The Numbers:
Murders by Pamela Voorhees: 9 in Part 1
Murders by Jason Voorhees: 10
Men Killed: 6 (11 Total)
Women Killed: 4 (9 Total)
Camp Counselors Killed: 6 (15 Total)
Animals Killed: 1 unidentified, assumed to be a dog (2 Total)
Total Body Count for the Series: 20 (not including animals)

Final Thoughts:
Much of what you see in Friday the 13th Part 2 could actually have been far superior, and, if anything, this film had numerous missed opportunities that leave you in disbelief rather than terror. The producers are much more in it for the psych-out and cheap scares than the overall plot, which for the first hour, is a carbon copy of the original film. The end product is truly rushed and seems to disregard a number of important plotlines and cast members towards the end. In a way, Jason isn’t made to look like anything but an incompetent killer rather than the unstoppable lunatic. Wearing a burlap potato sack instead of the signature hockey mask (which had yet to be revealed in the series) didn’t help matters, making our antagonist look ridiculous rather than menacing. Several camp counselors are unaccounted for in the final 10 minutes, giving this movie the highest technical survival count of any in the series. In fact, those counselors were off in town drinking and smoking, a chronic no-no of anyone who dares survive one of these movies. Some of the death scenes treaded the same water as Friday the 13th, while others, like Mark’s wheelchair freefall, were easily the most sadistic in the series. And the ending is more confusing than decisive, a motif that would haunt audiences for years to come. At the time of its release, Friday the 13th Part 2 had to compete with any number of slasher rip-offs trying to make a quick buck off of the original film. Too bad it ended up looking just like one of them.
B.B.

Friday the 13th (1980)

2010-03-09T20:17:00.000-08:00

Friday the 13th (1980)

Written By: Victor Miller

Directed By: Sean S. Cunningham

Starring: Betsy Palmer, Adrienne King, Jeannine Taylor, Robbi Morgan, Kevin Bacon, Harry Crosby, Laurie Bartham, Mark Nelson

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
Friday the 13th. What can I possibly say that will offer up a new dimension to the most exhausted, most lucrative horror franchise in the history of American cinema? The Jason Voorhees hockey mask is as iconic to the silver screen as the three circles that form a Mickey Mouse emblem is to children. There has never been, nor will there ever be, a series as important to the genre that specializes in blood, guts, and gore as Friday the 13th.

What was once a scarier-than-hell exercise in torture and panic has become an almost essential date movie, luring in fans of all ages to jampacked theaters in hopes of seeing their least favorite counselor get strewn across the screen in a violent rampage. It has been deemed everything from revolutionary to obscene and holds as many special awards from around the globe as it does cease-and-desist letters. When you’re talking about horror movies, it would be impossible to ignore the mammoth contributions of the series that brought red meat back to the American movie theater.

As a reviewer for a website that specializes in bad movies (or good movies people think are bad), it has been a long, strenuous battle as to whether or not the Friday the 13th series belongs as a prominently featured piece. The fact of the matter is that with all the references, rip-offs, and wannabes flooding the market nearly thirty years later, an important history lesson might well be the best way to tackle the franchise, one film at a time. With that in mind, we begin with the movie that notoriously knocked The Empire Strikes Back from its box office pedestal in the Summer of 1980, Friday the 13th.

Starting with a 1958 flashback, Friday the 13th wastes little time setting the tone for a creepy and violent exhibition for the macabre only. The first in a slew of counselor purges occurs when an unidentified stalker leaps out of the shadows with a butcher knife and thirst of blood. Fast forward to present day (or 1980), and it appears as if the new class of counselors for Camp Crystal Lake are reading to begin again despite the history of the infamously named “Camp Blood.”

And now, I will attempt to give you a brief but not too confusing history lesson on Camp Crystal Lake. In 1957, the camp experienced a major tragedy when a young boy drowned in Crystal Lake. The following year, our aforementioned double murders took place, making the came uninhabitable for over 20 years. No one ever found the murderer on that evening, but since time has aged the old campground past the point for “Reasonable Suspicion,” these young up and comers believe they can revive it to a prosperous summer oasis once again. The townspeople respectfully disagree, hence the bastardization “Camp Blood.”

Now that you’ve been given the basics of the story, I guess there’s nothing left do but watch the heads fly as the campers get dead one by one like they’re part of an Agatha Christie epic. Rather than keep you preoccupied with minute details, I’ve decided that this series requires a different sort of review, so spoilers abound in the next few sections.

Body Count Roll Call:
Barry, 1958 Camp Counselor: Stabbed in the abdomen while attempting to defend himself from sexual prosecution.
Claudette, 1958 Camp Counselor: Killed during ensuing struggle, death not shown.
Alice, Camp Counselor/Cook: Throat slashed in the woods.
Ned, Camp Counselor: Throat slashed in a cabin.
Jack, Camp Counselor: Gored through the throat with an arrow.
Marcie, Camp Counselor: Axed in the face.
Brenda, Camp Counselor: Murdered off-screen, later thrown through a window.
Steve, Camp Owner and Counselor: Murdered off-screen, strung upside down in a later scene.
Bill, Camp Counselor: Shot repeatedly with arrows.
Pamela Voorhees, Killer: Decapitated.

The Numbers:
Murders by Pamela Voorhees: 9
Murders by Jason Voorhees: 0 (though a pretty traumatic attempted drowning at the end)
Men Killed: 5
Women Killed: 5
Camp Counselors Killed: 9
Animals Killed: 1 snake
Total Body Count for the Series: 10, including Mrs. Voorhees but not including animals.

Final Thoughts:
The original Friday the 13th is everything that’s right with horror encapsulated in a 90-minute free ride. The story is loosely tied together by an “urban legend” style haunting that keeps you spellbound while the producers create cheap scares in between death scenes. The counselors are believable enough as a crew of ragtag misfits assigned to keep the place from burning down, if they don’t do it first by partying too hard. The acting isn’t great, but it isn’t terrible either, and that’s not just because of Betsy Palmer and Kevin Bacon. Musically, this movie was one of the first to understand that a dramatic score can make a suspenseful sequence that much better. Original credit for that should probably go to John Carpenter’s Halloween, but the perfect execution of sound and sight is truly here. We’re even treated to the incarnation of one of the greatest standards in horror: Do bad things and you die. Taking in pleasures of the flesh, or enjoying drugs and alcohol is a nice way to mark yourself for termination. And of course, let us never forget that in a genre obsessed with pseudo-endings and swerve surprises, this was always one of the best. Pamela Voorhees’ emergence as the lead antagonist borrowed elements from the twisted Psycho while keeping the same tongue-in-cheek dark humor that gave The Last House on the Left a reputation. Tom Savini was at the top of the peak with makeup and special effects artistry here and two years previous on the set of Dawn of the Dead. Commercially speaking, it seems highly unlikely that we will ever see such a perfect collaboration hit the screen for a genre that lately makes its money by rebooting and rehashing everything in sight. Then again, the most lucrative parts of the Friday the 13th franchise stem directly from such an idea, so perhaps it is “point proven” for executives looking to slash budgets as well as fresh teenagers.
B.B.

Soultaker (1990)

2010-02-22T11:25:00.001-08:00

Soultaker (1990)

Written By: Vivan Schilling & Eric Parkinson

Directed By: Michael Rissi

Starring: Joe Estevez, Vivian Schilling, Gregg Thomsen, Robert Z’Dar, David Fralick.

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
I wouldn’t say that I’m easily impressed, but when it comes to writing reviews and watching bad movies, then maybe I’m easily swayed. The values I’ve rediscovered in the past few weeks via my Video Cassette Player have breathed new life into the website and my passion for the truly awful. In fact, I’ve become a scavenger of sorts; more willing to dig through the stacks at my local Goodwill than I am to peruse the new DVD shelves in a Best Buy. Facing facts isn’t easy, but if I must, I wholeheartedly acknowledge that my VHS lust is out of control.

I suppose you can imagine how excited I was, then, when I found this little number hanging on the shelf by itself at the local thrift. For less than a dollar, I was able to secure myself a copy of yet another MST3K-parodied gem, Soultaker. Look at that poster at the top of the page. Stare at it for as long as you can. When you see that on the front of the VHS box, you probably reacted just like me: holy shit, this will be awesome. The only way it could be better is if the tagline for Soultaker was "He'll Take Your Soul." It made no difference to me that the film was from a company no one had ever heard of, a video distributor that walked the fine line of decency, and contained a cast of “has been” or “never was” actors. This was something different. This was Soultaker, damn it.

Chances are you’re in one of two select groups when talking about this film: either you’ve never heard of Soultaker, or you’re part of the fan club. When it comes to a movie that is this, well-documented its hard for folks to sit on the fence. The story is very loose, which, at least, allows for it to flow quickly. A ragtag crew of youngsters looking to party and have some fun will soon have their party crashed and their hopes dashed as they wind up dead courtesy of the menacing (and sometimes incomprehensible) Soultakers. And with all this sex and violence mixing up in the early 90’s, its no wonder that we’ve got clichés galore.

First of all, this movie exemplifies what it is to be a “macho man” in the late 80’s/early 90’s. Mullets, the “Wet Look,” goofy sunglasses, no chest hair, short shorts and cutoff t-shirts: man, this is rough. As if the men oozing machismo towards the no-class, low self-esteem vaginal crowd isn’t enough to get you interested, our lead teens (who look at least 35) seem to be torn lovers brought back together by fate…or something like that. If you don’t get enjoyment out of the fashion statements when juxtaposed to the tension of the plot, then you might want to fast forward.

Joe Estevez (brother to Martin Sheen, so yes, he’s part of the family), plays only the second creepiest Soultaker on the prowl as these kids drink and drive. The first is a large, Thor meets Fabio like creature with an incredibly huge face. His jaw width alone has to be some kind of Guinness World Record. Estevez, complete with pocket watch, determines that these kids are out of time given their reckless ways, and after about three minutes of alternating shots between the turmoil in the car and live-action pole position footage, they finally pay dirt (or just regular dirt). When Estevez heads in to claim the souls, a ritual he performs while giving his best Shang Tsung impression, he is only able to obtain one of the five teens. Estevez transfers the soul into something that appears to be a glow-in-the-dark cock ring in the interim. He must now hunt down the remaining four and complete his job,

Here’s where it gets confusing: they’ve pretty much split the reality plane in two, wherein all of them died in the automobile accident, yet their spirits believe nothing has truly gone wrong and they can still walk as mortals. Think of this as “Sixth Sense” disease, in which the dead with unfinished business walk the Earth not realizing they are in fact deceased. Yet, they’re not exactly dead either, since they have vital signs in reality and are simply in a comatose state. Whenever the Soultaker hunts down a member of his prey (which he does to Bleach-Blonde-Brad about five minutes later), he literally kills the spirit and then makes it evaporate into thin air. Then, in reality, they flat line. So what happens when the spirits discover their separation from the real bodies? Well, unlike the typical collaboration of body and soul upon the realization of actuality, these guys just don’t seem to comprehend the circumstances beyond their control. Are you getting all this? There will be a quiz.

Quickly, it comes down to the former lovebirds against the Soultakers, but the ante is raised up when Natalie, our lead temptress, is sort of reincarnated former love for Estevez. What follows is your typical pursuit thriller that raises serious questions about the real “evil” of Estevez. He’s almost sympathetic. Or maybe just pathetic. Either way, you’ll feel the same for him as you do for the movie.

Quote of the Film:

“They seem to think that someone’s trying to kill them tonight.” -Mrs. McMillan, an awesome mom, spirit medium, and negotiator.

Final Thoughts:
To their credit, the makers of Soultaker do a fabulous job of raising the all-important question as to whether or not you can be displaced from your body and feel stuck in some kind of Purgatory awaiting closure. Movies as thrilling and psychological as The Sixth Sense examined this theory, as did much less notable films like Casper. The concept alone is a great one to toy with and can be explored in about nine thousand different directions. All that said, this movie fails to truly explore any of those dimensions past the “but are we dead? Or are we alive?” conundrum that reels in the tedious stale fish after about 15 minutes. Like I said, the concept of life after death, purgatory, fate of your soul and everything in between is really cool. This movie isn’t.
B.B.

The Horrible Doctor Bones (2000)

2010-01-25T09:37:00.001-08:00

The Horrible Doctor Bones (2000)

Written By: Raymond Forchion

Directed By: Ted Nicolaou

Starring: Darrow Igus, Larry Bates, Sarah Scott Davis, Rhonda Claerbaut, Danny Wooten, Tangelina Rouse.

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
I firmly believe that watching bad movies takes years off of my life. While there is a definitive truth in this (simply spending 90 minutes at a time on these masterpieces is time I’ll never get back), I actually believe that these movies are aging me horribly, day-by-day. But with only one life to live, I want to spend many of my remaining years remembering the fond times when I scoped out a diamond in the rough and found that it had more of a social and geo-political statement than anything currently in the A-List (I’m referring to you, Avatar). Tonight’s picture is not one of those kind of films. Instead, we’re getting The Horrible Doctor Bones, the second entry for Full Moon Pictures in as many publications.

An aside, if you read the review for Dead & Rotting, then you’re probably well aware that this is the other Full Moon VHS currently in my possession, so it likely means more of the same. And a further aside to the aside, my trailers that supplant this film are far worse than the other video. First, I get a trailer for a poorly done, low-budget voodoo doll epic, Ragdoll. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, I get two more commercials for Ragdoll, one hyping the action figure of the menacing voodoo killing doll from the film, and one hyping the soundtrack. These two commercials are then in duplicate for The Horrible Doctor Bones even before I’ve watched the movie. The action figure costs $19.99, minus shipping and handling. This VHS cost me .99 Cents. We’re off to a hot start, folks.

The titular character of this one doesn’t take long for his presence to be known. Dr. Bones is in fact a record producer that lures young talent into his underground studio for sound and music experiments. Now, I’m not sure what’s weirder here: the fact that whenever Bones appears onscreen, a bizarre sound effect that sounds like a plunger in action plays, or the fact that his musical experiments result in his test subjects doing less rapping and more head exploding than planned. I’m gonna say, just this once, that the whole head exploding murder thing is probably meant to be the primary focus of these bewildering goings on.

From the get-go, this one sets up just like the other Full Moon entry, in that we’re spending a lot of time getting nowhere, all the while noticing dozens of continuity and plot errors, many of which IMDB would likely site as being “intentional by the cast and crew.” During the first 20 minutes alone, characters seem to have incredible projection abilities during their band auditions, creating microphone feedback whilst not even speaking into or near the microphone (which isn’t plugged into anything). There’s a few drummer close-ups that reveal a lack of playing or acting like playing ability as well as a bassist and a keyboardist, both of whom fail at pantomime (and their instruments are plugged into anything, either). The speakers in the background serve little purpose in such a small arena which also, apparently, has its own lighting production crew. And as if I haven’t pointed out enough stupidity, the Urban Protectors, the band with whom we are supposed to relate and support given that they are the only protagonists this film has sprouted yet, audition with a song that does something really bizarre for a live track: fade out. The song fades out. Now that is pure genius. Spend enough money on the movie for an action figure and a soundtrack, but forget that when using songs for the flick, you might want to reedit them for the audience’s benefit. The leads also toast out of Dixie Cups when they sign their record deal. Dixie Cups are gangster.

Now, while I can bash the complete and total laziness of cast and crew alike in this production (and I have), The Horrible Doctor Bones is not without some upside. It spends more time than the regular horror movie building a backdrop for the principle characters and Darrow Igus is actually halfway decent as Dr. Bones himself. He manages to manipulate the band into believing he can make them rich and famous, yet he’s already accumulated a body count higher than any albums or millions they’ve actually made. Bones brings out the innermost demons and troubles within each of the four Urban Protectors, making great strides towards his evil conception.

All of this has happened, yet the blood, guts, and gore that we likely thought we were going to get hasn’t. In fact, I anticipate that it won’t happen. Ever. You see, this movie takes all day to get absolutely nowhere. Dr. Bones is more concerned with lies, voodoo, and treachery than he is actually, you know, ripping someone’s head off. There is some heart-squishing and a few visuals of a devil-inspired Dr. Bones, but other than that, you really don’t get the big payoff you were hoping for.

Quote of the Film:

“Baby, if you was an ice cream cone, you’d definitely be licked.” -Pookie. Yes, Pookie.

Final Thoughts:
Unlike the actual music industry, most of this movie is completely out of sync with anything entertaining, and, ironically, makes you feel like your head is exploding. An inordinate amount of time is spent filming piss poor, underground music videos and blacksploitation for the 21st century. And clocking in at just over 72 minutes, that’s time they really didn’t have to waste, making this hardly a full-length feature film at all. Think of it more as a music video with brief spurts of acting, killing, makeup, and really terrible plot, and you’ll be watching an extended and uninspiring Thriller rip off. In fact, for a cast made up entirely of African-Americans, you’re somewhat surprised that one of them doesn’t play the race card given the overwhelming minstrelsy presented on the screen. Believe it or not, that may actually be a good thing. There are some very real circumstances and situations that the characters are put in, and the writing, from a dialogue standpoint, stands up stronger than 90% of horror movies released around the same time. The issues that these kids face should be reflective of their internal struggles with Dr. Bones, but instead, all of that falls by the wayside in favor of a very plodding, slow film that does little to showcase horror or scares. Sure it’s cheap, but you should never discount how important a good death scene is when matched up against the likes of this.
B.B.

Dead & Rotting (2002)

2010-01-24T21:51:00.000-08:00

Dead & Rotting (2002)

Written By: David P. Barton and Douglas Snauffer

Directed By: David P. Barton

Starring: Stephen O'Mahoney, Tom Hoover, Debbie Rochon, Trent Haaga, Jeff Dylan Graham, Barbara Katz-Norrod.

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
Like most Americans, I no longer own much in the way of video cassette tapes. Long gone are the ways of the VCR and VHS formats, save for some beautiful gems yet to be released on DVD. The upcoming film is likely not one of them. Looking over my options for tonight’s review, I came across not one, but two entries from Full Moon Studios, the production company known most notably for the Puppet Master cult phenomenon. In fact, when you look at the history of Full Moon, you can look no further than Puppet Master, because over the years, it’s the one franchise that has kept them in business and making money.

Full Moon was a company intentionally founded on the ideals that a lower budget film could still mirror what a big budget smash had to offer, and, for the most part, Full Moon delivers on exactly what it promises. Tonight’s selection, Dead & Rotting, is a great example of such b-grade schlock. This movie fits into about three or four subgenres of horror cinema, including Full Moon. Truth be told, the main subgenre that this picture falls into is the woman-on-a-rampage-out-to-get-deadly-revenge-genre. Mostly explored through vintage exploitation movies, it had a more recent renaissance with the release of Quentin Tarantino’s Death Proof. But tonight, this one finds itself so low on the totem pole, it makes Deadly Daphne’s Revenge look like Alien or Aliens, specifically if Ellen Ripley was involved.

Our story, as it begins, is about three men looking to punish an old witch rumored to live out in the woods. And while you might say that I’m calling her names, the truth of the matter is that everyone in this small, possibly-inbred town believes she is indeed a witch. They refer to her house as the witch house. The townspeople accuse her of the usual kind of mischief: razor blades in apples, terrorizing the youth, failing to water the grass or mow the lawn. You know, really evil, murderous kind of shit. She seems like a sweet lady to me, except that she treats her son like he’s a cat. And that too, is because he is. He transforms into one. I can’t make this shit up. That kind of motherly care inevitably leads to trouble, however. When her son is beaten down for being awkward by the three drunken stooges, she concocts a plan of revenge that promises to make them feel like they are “dead and rotting.” By the next day, all three men experience hallucination and begin to grow boils on their face that look more like everlasting gobstoppers. I hope somebody informed Mr. Slugworth.

But once the random influenza passes, the men plot a revenge on her once again, and, in true redneck fashion, fail to believe that she cursed them. They blame poison ivy instead, and in their overzealous state, they boil the cat (remember, that’s the witch’s son) on the stove as a present. Now who in their right mind isn’t rooting for the witch 20 minutes in? I mean, if the internet anonymous and social elite has taught us anything, its that you don’t fuck with cats. Everybody loves cats. Cut to her new plan, a revenge that turns out to be far worse than a simple spit of dust and two-day flu bug. She’s transformed into a beautiful young woman, and she plans to seduce the men to their doom.

Not surprisingly, the movie itself is very, very low grade and in parts, very stupid. When cutting costs on your budget and suppressing the need for quality, you create some horrible conceptual anomalies. After having sex with all three men, our harrowing witch can be seen giving birth to a bloody-crawfish type thing (keep in mind she had sex with them one day earlier) that she puts into a skull, and then puts that skull inside of a pumpkin. Then she buries the pumpkin. Think of it as an unholy nesting egg. And voila! Her army of undead super soldiers is born, ready to wreak havoc on those three rednecks. In an attempt to detail just what is going on this movie, I prove my point by realizing how terribly overambitious this project is becoming. It is all parts bizarre, and not in the “unintentionally funny” sort of way. The acting is third or fourth rate, the camerawork is reminiscent of a 3rd grade Paul Greengrass, and even the makeup and special effects, if I haven’t mentioned it before, look more like candies than blood and guts. Even the blades her minions are using to pick off the unsuspecting farmers are just...well...plastic. I mean they're clearly never going to break the skin, and it doesn't translate realistically to the viewing audience. They'd have been better off putting in 20 bucks for a digital depiction via James Cameron's favorite moneymaker, CGI.

And as if all of this wasn’t enough to get you to turn it off (or me to stop watching the VHS), we incorporated a second witch and a spell that might as well be named "Deus Ex Machina" to fight off the original spell caster. Happy endings, and not just in the sexual way!

Quote of the Film:

“That was the best I’ve ever had with a woman…as beautiful as you are.” -Eric, Wormy Redneck (Nice Save)

Final Thoughts:
Did I ever mention that one of the best parts of an old, crappy horror VHS is the old, crappy, horror trailers for other films in front of the feature presentation? Bumping Dead & Rotting were trailers for a stripper-vampire-skin flick called Cryptz, a reality television splatter fest that borders on the supernatural called Hell Asylum, and the genuinely horrifying clown slasher sequel, Killjoy 2. Amidst all of the badness that I’ve just viewed, I wouldn’t mind watching these three movies as well. Full Moon seems to understand that when you’re bad and on a tight budget, you’re allowed to get away with pretty much anything. When the surviving men killed the witch in this movie, I formulated a week-long alternate ending that seemed to be highly more logical and ended with the witch getting the best of these horny bastards. Of course, my ending also involved semen, but I think that’s the joy of watching Full Moon schlock. If they can get away with anything, I can write a review saying so and even incorporate my own alternate semen-ending and have it be just as plausible.
B.B.

No Holds Barred (1989)

2009-12-21T12:38:00.000-08:00

No Holds Barred (1989)

Written By: Dennis Hackin

Directed By: Thomas J. Wright

Starring: Hulk Hogan, Joan Severance, Kurt Fuller, Tony ‘Tiny’ Lister

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
The name says it all. Hulk Hogan. There has never been, nor do I expect there ever to be, a bigger name in the world of professional wrestling. Sure, you all have the list of names you could rattle off that compare, but EVERYBODY in the world has heard of Hulk Hogan. He’s a former five-time World Wrestling Federation Champion that starred as Thunderlips in Rocky III and made the terms WrestleMania and Hulkamania household and global. Say what you will about the state of his current situations, he’s still Hulk Fucking Hogan.

So it should come as no surprise that Vince McMahon and the WWF wanted to capitalize in any way they could on the Hulkster’s ever-growing popularity. The fastest and easiest way in the business of pro wrestling to get that license to print money is to merchandise the hell out of your talents. Hulkamania wouldn’t be what it was if you didn’t market the man to a wider demographic by slapping his face on everything you possibly could. There were Hulk Hogan action figures, water guns, coin banks, t-shirts, pants, championship belts, headbands, teddy bears, Frisbees, alarm clocks, watches, shoes, hats, slippers, and toothbrushes, and that’s just what I recall in my collection. Of course, it should go without saying by this point, that there were Hulk Hogan movies, too. In fact, both Hogan and McMahon recognized the need to make Hulk an even bigger star than he had already grown to be. So after Hogan’s appearance in Rocky III, the crew went to work on another cinematic epic of altogether different proportions: No Holds Barred.

The term itself is a vintage wrestling colloquialism about a knockdown, drag-out donnybrook between bitter rivals. So just by hearing it attached to the name Hulk Hogan, you would assume you’re in for a thrill ride of epic clashes between Hogan and evil villains in some phantom outlaw world. Sadly, this would actually be the plot of a slightly less and slightly better Hogan film, Suburban Commando. No Holds Barred, however, decided to rest comfortably on the idea that they could be completely unimaginative, stupid, and campy and still get by on Hulk Hogan as a legitimate action star. The following evidence supports this case.

Hogan plays Rip, the World Wrestling Federation Champion and most popular number one super guy in all the known world. He’s the biggest star and everybody, especially competing television networks, is desperate to get Rip for a ratings plug. Did Hogan executive produce this so that he could play a character that is an even more egotistical version of himself? Actually, yes, he did.

Rip is the essential “say your prayers, eat your vitamins” version of Hogan that most of us grew up with. He fights the bad guys in the ring and gives back to his many charities and friends in his off-times. You’d never once stop to think what would happen if Rip had children that were untalented moochers who live off of his money so they can crash cars and record shitty music albums. No, that would be too much like Hogan. He’s playing Rip, a better version of…himself. Big stretch there. Rip’s influence on the world is borderline orgasmic to everyone he comes in contact with, but more on that later. For now, we’ll stay focused on the World Television Network, a rival station (though it is never made clear what channel the WWF is being broadcast on, either) and its crude owner, Mr. Brell. Brell has a vision in which everyone who isn’t on the same wavelength as he is immediately becomes a “jockass” (his words, not mine) and we should do anything possible to lure Rip to the network.

Brell, played by Kurt “I played a network executive in Wayne’s World, also” Fuller, is a total dick. He does everything in his power to treat his people like garbage, making sexist and sometimes racist remarks to them whilst never losing track of his quest to keep Rip exclusive to WTN. He even goes so far as to hire Rip a new publicist, Samantha, played by Joan “I feel like I was paid for this movie in” Severance. Not surprisingly, after weeks of following Rip around on the road attempting to seduce him over to the WTN and Brell, Samantha falls for the giant oaf. After all, what’s not to love about Rip? As if his already mammoth reputation hasn’t won you over, he’s a listing of some other things he can do through the course of cinema magic:
-Makes footprint indentations on the outside of limousines by kicking them from the inside
-Explodes through sunroofs with Michael Jordan-esque vertical leaps
-Terrifies toadies into shitting themselves on cue for comedic effect
-Speaks fluent French
-Creates hilarious anecdotes while oiled up and naked (side note: I got to see Hulk Hogan’s ASS way too many times in this movie)
-Saves restaurants and diners with his impeccable chair throwing technique
-Sets off pyrotechnics by throwing barbells at neon signs and mirrors
-Cures Cancer (probably)

With all of his plans blowing up, Brell decides to create the incredibly homoerotic “Battle of the Tough Guys” in an attempt to lure Rip to his network. Somehow, this shoot fighting, mixed-martial arts style of competition draws big ratings, especially when Brell introduces a cross-eyed monster by the name of Zeus. Zeus terrorizes opponents in the ring, and women and children out of it. He nearly cripples Rip’s brother Randy until Rip agrees to fight Zeus one-on-one on Brell’s network. What follows is a long, boring match that starts in a wrestling ring (despite advertisements of no ring, referee, or rules, which clearly, all three are present) and ends when Zeus tumbles a few stories to his assumed death while Brell finds a new and interesting way to electrocute himself to death. Nobody seems to care about Rip’s multiple homicide caught on tape, as the film ends in that generally awesome everybody loves everybody way that the 80’s made famous.

Quote of the Film:

“Dookie?” -Rip

Final Thoughts:
Its funny, because if you really wanted to delve into the complete and total works that this movie has to offer, you’d recognize that WWF inadvertently predicted their own latent competition with the rise of MMA and UFC in the states. Sure, it isn’t a Battle of the Tough Guys, but you get the picture. While I criticize this movie for being unimaginative, I do so for the all-to-obvious combination of Hogan and McMahon failing to come up with something different from their everyday lives. Did you know that they sat in a hotel room for three days completely rewriting this script when they didn’t like the first draft? And this is what they came up with? In the months that followed, Hogan feuded with Zeus on WWF television at both SummerSlam and the Survivor Series, until what was supposed to be a one-on-one encounter at WrestleMania VI. But when box office and pay-per-view receipts turned up less than expected, Vince McMahon axed the idea and went with the backup plan of having Hulk Hogan defend the World title against the up and coming Ultimate Warrior. I wonder how that ended?
B.B.

Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland (1989)

2009-01-09T13:19:00.000-08:00

Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland (1989)

Written By: Fritz Gordon

Directed By: Michael A. Simpson

Starring: Pamela Springsteen, Tracy Griffith, Michael J. Pollard, Mark Oliver, Haynes Brooke

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
I am recognizing a few flaws in my previous entries in this series. I don't believe I mentioned it previously, but the time it took for the producers of the original cult film in this line, that being Sleepaway Camp, is just unfathomable. Even during the 80's, the filmmakers on this project and the previous one, Sleepaway Camp II: Unhappy Campers, waited approximately five years before releasing back-to-back sequels. Think about that for a second: When Back to the Future was released in 1985, Robert Zemeckis didn't ponder what could be. He acted on his bankable commodity and created a pair of sequels as well that saw release in under four years. Figuring that the BTTF series had a budget much larger than that of these movies, it is justifiable that it would take this long.

But why in God's name did we have to wait five and six years respectively for the conclusion of something so low budget that it could have been made in a single Summer as a three-film set? I present to you Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland, a movie that takes its name alone from The Who's "Baba O'Riley." Any similarities between this movie and that song end right there. Sleepaway Camp III is the weakest in the series, and not just because The Boss didn't make a cameo appearance.

Filmed back-to-back with Sleepaway Camp II, we find ourselves in a familiar predicament: Angela Baker is at large once again, tearing through the world of teeny campers with no real motivation other than that she is one messed up...uh...woman. In the opening ten minutes alone, Angela runs over an incoming camper with a garbage truck and assumes her identity. I would love to question where she found the means to steal and operate said truck, but hey, who has time for logistics?

Angela's fellow campers this time around have all been rescued from various broken homes and juvenile detention centers in the area; places where she herself should be quite familiar with. What ensues is more murder and mayhem in the same sadistic fashion as before, except that Angela seems to have lost that imaginative spark she once had. If we were to look at the lasting novelty of the series, we'd notice that the biggest draw of these campy epics are the outlandish, bizarre, and often completely impossible death scenes. Too bad they skipped on them come round 3. Sure, it is still pretty gory, with Angela tearing off some limbs, forcing campers to snort poisonous chemicals instead of their cocaine, and even using blunt instruments to the extremes, but when she just shoots a guy for no other reason than to watch him die, I begin to lose interest in this massacre.

A gun? Really? What happened to the girl/boy that drowned a girl in a mound of shit? What about the girl/boy that flooded the pedophile with boiling hot water? What about the curling iron? Did you forget about the curling iron up the vagina? Where did our precious memories of the series go to? Apparently, by the time they needed to film this one, they just decided that beating someone with a tree branch was just as effective for the audience. In a word: Wrong.

In an attempt to redeem the film, there are dozens of references to other horror films and pop culture icons of the past and present, but none of them serves an particular purpose in the canon. After approximately 90 minutes of waiting for Angela to break out into "Born in the U.S.A.," she is defeated by the few surviving "good girls and boys" style campers who managed to evade her brief killing spree. When all looks to be over, go figure that Angela would rise up and kill the paramedics taking her to the hospital. I question the very intent behind that move, as Angela puts herself in quite the vicious cycle by doing so. Her fate undetermined, she rides off into the sunset and we are left the same way we were each film before.

Member of the crew who should've been fired: Writer Fritz Gordon must have exhausted himself with that "stellar" approach he brought to Sleepaway Camp II, because he just gave up in Sleepaway Camp III. Same story, same idea, same campers (some of them), same ending. Been here before, and it sucked then, too.

Best Name in the Cast: Three cheers for Pamela Springsteen, who once again takes the cake for the award. Yes, Baby Bruce worked on no other projects of note (save for Fast Times at Ridgemont High), and yet she manages to excel as a raving psychopath with no motivation and a serious gender complex. I can still hold out for her to sing "The Wrestler," though.

Quote of the Film:

"I like movies with really good acting, like Gone With the Wind or Care Bears." -Cindy (Seriously, WTF?)

Final Thoughts: With the completion of this film, a fourth entered pre-production and looked promising. Entitled Sleepaway Camp IV: The Survivor, the film was to take place long after the original horrific events and it even had seeds of doubt planted about who the killer would be. Supposedly going to be another shocker, only 30 minutes of principle photography were ever released. The rest is shrouded in mystery, an unfortunate casualty of the disinterest that loomed after the release of Sleepaway Camp III. In fact, for nearly 20 years, it was the preceding film that killed the franchise in a most unjust fashion. Luckily for us, the original creators and actors came back for a return engagement and released Return to Sleepaway Camp last year. If I were you, I wouldn't voluntarily watch this one to get inside the mind of Angela Baker, unless, that is, you want to be the next Angela Baker. PENIS!
B.B.

Night of the Demons III (1997)

2009-01-02T16:55:00.000-08:00

Night of the Demons III (1997)

Written By: Kevin Tenney

Directed By: Jim Kaufman

Starring: Amelia Kinkade

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
Damn. Another horror series is about to get a facelift with a supposedly clever new remake. No, I’m not talking about Friday the 13th, Halloween, or even Plan 9 From Outer Space. It has come to my attention that the entire Night of the Demons saga is finding a new home for a new generation just 20 years removed from its big “scream” debut. Somehow, the Cryptkeeper found that pun to be terrible.

With all of the movies getting remakes in the horror community, its time to open up our big book and review another film that, while not being a technical remake, was just that when it opened to the public. Before we get to all of that nonsense, we should trace our footsteps to just how we got here.

Night of the Demons was a story about a demon in the old haunted Hull House who possessed a group of youngsters looking to party. At the forefront of this Halloween nightmare was Angela, who had invited the crew to their eventual demise. Little did she know that in the midst of all of this demon possession and overt sexual molestation, she would meet her maker and be banished by the end of the evening. By the time Night of the Demons 2 rolled around, the producers attempted to expand the plot and background of their new cover girl Angela by incorporating her long lost sister, a fighting nun, and a series of wacky mishaps for horned up Catholic teenagers. Sure, the idea was mostly the same, but Night of the Demons 2 made up for it with even less sexual ambiguity and morals than its predecessor. That brings us perfectly up to speed with the plot and premise of Night of the Demons III, which can be interpreted almost scene for scene and character for character as a remake of the very first film.

Angela’s back on All Hallows Eve to take a few more souls to the grave with her while having her one night of freedom. She’ll have plenty to choose from this time around, as the kids are a little more rambunctious and rebellious than the first few bunches. That said, it should come to no surprise that in their attempts to buy (illegally) beer, they end up in a hostile showdown with a cop, shotgun, and a whole lotta trouble. When one of them (not surprisingly the black guy) is actually wounded badly the others panic and begin a wild gunfight that results in a downed (but never out) officer. As they escape, the “good” ones are entangled in a constant battle with the “bad” ones until they come to a logical hideout in Hull House. After all, it’s abandoned, and nobody would think to look there.

Sure enough, as soon as they get around to that whole “hiding” business, we manage to get the sensual Angela in on the business as she lures each one of the teens to their doom via a series of promises, sexual and otherwise. Now, if you’ve read the other two reviews from this film line, you have to be wondering what over the top sex situation is going to get itself CAPITALIZED for this review. We’ve already had LIPSTICK IN THE TITS and POSSESSED DEMON TITTIES, so the smart money would be on something involving a fanged nipple. Sorry to disappoint, but the pinnacle of stupidity in this one come when Angela corners Orson and Orson, equipped with a pistol, holds up our demon friend, threatening to blow her away. Angela reacts the same way anyone held at gunpoint would. She mimics the act of fellatio on the shaft of the pistol until magically all of the bullets are comfortably within her mouth and spit back into Orson’s hand. One more time, just for good measure. ANGELA SUCKS A GUN AS IF IT WERE A COCK. I love these movies.

Certainly, it isn’t the only highlight of this movie, but it has to be at the top of the list for cinematic excellence no matter where you look. Angela’s escapades see her form an army, just like we’ve seen before, until a scant few remain in an attempt to fight of the demon charge. Throw in a washed up detective (every bad horror movie has one) trying to get to the bottom of the liquor store shootout, and you’ve got the makings for a film that finds itself, in principle, copying and pasting itself from the late 80’s. No need to spoil the ending, you’ve probably already got it figured out.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: Kevin Tenney stuck it out through thick and thin with this franchise, but his efforts at writing this film were some of the laziest in movie history. We’re basically watching the same movie we’ve seen before, and even though the only remaining copy circulating on the internet is a French dub on the YouTube, its hard to save the third installment with bad voiceovers.

Best Name in the Cast: Poor Vlasta Vrana. Despite having an excellent knack for the alliterate name, this guy was doomed from the moment he stepped on screen. Vrana plays the aforementioned detective who, if you haven’t guessed already, is the tragic victim of
the Chief Wiggum named “Retirony.”

Quote of the Film:

“Do you think if I watered them they’d grow bigger?” -Abbie, in reference to her breasts. Wow. Just wow.

Final Thoughts: Let’s set the record straight: Night of the Demons III is about as original as the concept of using roman numerals to “class up” your shitty sequels. It borrows heavily from the first film in the series and gives little new information on what was developing into a nice little saga. No new pictures were made after this one failed, and up until this year, few mentions were made of the series outside of this website. That said, this movie might not live up to the camp standard of Night of the Demons or the often unheralded depth of Night of the Demons 2, but it certainly fits in with the rest of the crew for being an essential movie to watch on Halloween night. Granted, horror movies come and go, but few have that capture ability to be viewed on one particular day a year. Thankfully, when they suck hard on a gun like this, that one day is a small fraction of the calendar.
B.B.

Eegah (1962)

2008-12-19T20:44:00.001-08:00

Eegah (1962)

Written by: Bob Wehling

Directed by: Nicolas Merriwether (Arch Hall, Sr.)

Starring: Arch Hall, Jr., Richard Kiel, Marilyn Manning, William Watters(Arch Hall, Sr.)

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
When attempting to review, discuss, or even think about a movie like Eegah, one must step back and attempt to admire the film for how poor it truly is. One must also reconsider their assessment and make sure not to intrude or infringe on the work of Mystery Science Theater 3000. What once was a 40-year old movie just considered bad is now a cult classic that sits atop its own plateau as downright awful. Easily one of the top 5, worst films ever made, Eegah just out and out blows.

Here’s the idea in a nutshell: Eegah is a prehistoric caveman living in the desert who seemingly minds his own business each day. Life is what we might call simple for this humongous eyesore, that is, until he comes across teenagers after a raucous party on one ill-fated evening. Suddenly, and without warning (even to the viewer, who by this point, can simply start hating life), Eegah is smitten with a young woman named Roxy, whose father just so happens to be some sort of expert in the field (of cavemen?) and will attempt to study the creature. Throw in a jealous boyfriend for some extra laughs and we’ve got all the instruments of destruction needed to compile on fecal cocktail.

Roxy’s father Robert has encouraged his daughter to act as if she truly loves Eegah so he can further his research and hopefully keep them both safe (CAVEMAN WANT ERECTION, NO SUBSTITUTES!), but things do eventually go awry as the two escape back to civilization with Flintstone hot on their heels. Meanwhile, and as if all of this isn’t enough of your daily schlock dosage, Roxy’s actual boyfriend Tom is in the midst of a huge rockabilly career that parallels the likes of the Honky Tonk Man and Jeff Jarrett. If I have to explain that joke to you, then I apologize. It’s a wrestling thing. Look it up.

His singing, like most things in the film (including the hand-drawn credits) is just another heaping helping of terrible, this time combined with unintentional hilarity. By the time more of these beach party, go-go dancing teens show up (to give the feel of those swinging sixties), Eegah is mighty pissed off and out for revenge (CAVEMAN SMASH!). What follows is a tale of one man’s lust for modern-day boobs in a world he doesn’t quite understand, nor does he even attempt to comprehend. Throw in a few incestuous sequences between father and daughter, more issues on the editing room floor (WATCH OUT FOR SNAKES), and even an appearance by the notorious Cash Flagg, and you’ve got a great waste of 90 minutes.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: Arch Hall, Sr. seemingly refuses to go by his own name during the production of this movie as he has not one, but TWO different pseudonyms he’s credited as having in the film. Not only is this a cinematic travesty, but he’s creepy as hell when onscreen with his “daughter.” Anyone else think Marilyn Manning was banging the Director?

Best Name in the Cast: See Above. Wincest.

Quote of the Film:

“Watch out for snakes!” -Arch Hall, Sr. (how does he do that without moving his mouth?)

Final Thoughts: Go ahead. Try and sell me on the schlock value of this movie as some sort of art piece that stands out as an avant-garde section of cinema. I respond with this humble, yet somewhat understated piece of wisdom: Caveman movies suck. Think about the short list of movies that were written about a caveman, and you’ll discover a lot of low cards in that hand. Well, with the exception of Encino Man, they’re almost all low cards. Man, Encino Man is a great movie. Why couldn’t I review that?
B.B.

Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla (1952)

2008-12-12T20:43:00.000-08:00

Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla (1952)

Written By: Tim Ryan

Directed By: William Beaudine

Starring: Bela Lugosi, Duke Mitchell, Sammy Petrillo, Charlita, Muriel Landers, Mickey Simpson, Steve Calvert

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
Late in his career, movie megastar Bela Lugosi had the wheels come off. While he finished up with Ed Wood’s Plan 9 From Outer Space (joining the ranks with Gene Kelly in Xanadu and Joan Crawford in Trog as starring in one of the worst last films of a career ever), he was in a bit of a spiral once he left the genuine horror business that made him so successful. Perhaps the best example of this downward depression is the 1952 “classic” Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla.

Yes, that’s the name of the movie, apparently penned to drum up ticket sales by making damn sure that you knew Bela was the star. He played Dr. Zabor, and, in a true stretch of his acting abilities, was a mad scientist. That’s right, Bela fell back into yet another typical device of the time, typecasting. The studio wanted to cast this action-comedy with Bela in his typical evil role, but since it was supposed to have humor, they planned to have Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis play the buddy role on the opposite side.

Movies of this time were a lot like this. Many buddy pictures were thin on plot and budget, but managed to showcase the stars in a manner that made the whole “good” feature of a film a moot point. The only issue was Martin and Lewis had no desire to film this one. So rather than scrap the project altogether (a wise decision, maybe?), it fell into the hands of “America’s New Comedy Team” in Duke Mitchell and Sammy Petrillo. Two young, veritable unknowns to the Hollywood community and community at large, they were carbon copies cast to sound, act, and even appear, as if they were Martin and Lewis. There is even some speculation that the two characters were to be named Martin and Lewis. Clever.

So anyway, these imperfect clones find their way onto an island in the South Pacific, where, by some stroke of dumb luck, they encounter a lovely native princess in Nona and the evil Dr. Zabor. Duke falls head over heels for Nona, but he’ll have to contend with the dastardly tactics of Zabor, who also happens to be in love with the princess. What would usually follow is some kind of murder, but once again, since this is a comedy, Zabor instead decides to turn Duke into a stammering, singing gorilla. Oh yes, a man in a gorilla suit. This is fucking gold.

From here on out, we are subjected to some very, very bad humor and awkward racism as Sammy attempts to rescue his friend, animal pals, and why not Nona as well in an epic conquest that can only be described as, well, bad. Duke and Sammy are terrible onscreen and have very little chemistry as buddies. They stutter through one-note jokes and neither understands the majority of their blocking. It is even written in that Zabor, who, again, if you forgot, is played by Bela Lugosi, looks “familiar” to Duke. This tongue-in-cheek humor is just another plot point that they chose to bring up over and over rather than move past in just a few seconds.

Finally, and perhaps worst of all, I must refer once again that the movie is called Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla, and yet, Lugosi is playing a character. So the movie might as well be "Bela Lugosi Fucks Your Mother" and it will have just as much significance.

Member of the Crew Who Should’ve Been Fired: Sammy Petrillo takes the cake for being so overbearingly annoying that he not only overshadows his partner Duke Mitchell but he makes you want to rip your ears off and stick them in the doom sphere. I mean, if you haven’t figured out that he’s ripping of Jerry Lewis by every mention already, just read the back of the DVD case. He is listed as having a “flawless” imitation. It was so “flawless,” in fact, that the case neglects to mention he was sued by Lewis for stealing the character. Lewis won.

Best Name in the Cast: Steve Calvert is a God among men in regards to typecasting. He’s played the man in the gorilla suit in nearly every film he’s ever been in, including this one, and The Ape.

Quote of the Film:

“This looks like Death not only took a holiday, but he got a hangover from taking it.” -Sammy Petrillo

Final Thoughts: This movie really pisses me off. Seriously, I’ve been calm and collected (for the most part) whilst reviewing this over-ambitious escapade that plays more like a crappy tourist’s guide than an actual art piece, but I can’t hold my emotions in when watching, or discussing, Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla. The plot sucks. The acting (mostly) sucks. The writing sucks. The print sucks. The editing sucks. The Gorilla sucks. Lugosi made this film after a notorious comment about wanting to be in more comedic pictures. If he were still alive, I’d like to see what would happen when Lugosi stars in a follow-up that I’d write, entitled "Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Beatdown." Hilarity ensues, I’m sure.
B.B.

The Ape (1940)

2008-12-05T20:41:00.000-08:00

The Ape (1940)

Written By: Richard Carroll and Curt Siodmak

Directed By: William Nigh

Starring: Boris Karloff, Maris Wrixon, Gertrude W. Hoffman, Henry Hall, Gene O’Donnell

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
With the prospect of this being Old School Month around the website, I took it upon myself to start the show off right with an induction so positively bad that it was “can’t miss” in more ways than one.

If you’ve never heard of The Ape and yet you were familiar with the names attached to it, you would naturally assume that the film was just that: “can’t miss.” It should have been an instant success that would rival the monster movies of the 30’s like no other. After all, it had Boris FREAKING Karloff playing the lead role and was co-written by Curt Siodmak, who penned The Wolfman years earlier. Can’t miss, right? Wrong.

Back during a time when actors and actresses were contracted by different studios (rather than the freelance vigilantes they are today), Boris Karloff grew increasingly pessimistic that he would renew his current contract in the late 30’s with Universal Pictures. He had already become a star due to the Universal masterpieces he was in while playing Frankenstein. Though he owed much of that success to on-again-off-again rival Bela Lugosi (who Karloff owes his career success to after Lugosi rejected the Frankenstein role), the two did not exactly see eye to eye and neither did Karloff with Universal Pictures. When his contract expired in 1939, he become one of the most sought after free agents in all of Hollywood. However, his stock plummeted upon one of his first post-Universal releases, that being The Ape.

Though we have become accustomed to the synopsis review of films from the modern era, it must be refreshing to know that The Ape provides us with just as awful a plot as anything coming into theaters nowadays. Karloff plays a somewhat humbled, somewhat mad scientist in search of a polio vaccine (at that time unheard of, see: Roosevelt, Franklin Delano) for a young woman. He requires human spinal fluid for his experimental procedures to uh…proceed, but has yet to make much procession (Damn that sentence was awful). Now, by this point, I know what question is just burning in the back of your brains: where the fuck is “the ape” character we spoke of for the movie called The Ape?

Turns out that “the ape” is an escaped primate from a local circus who has more than his fair share of run-ins with Karloff throughout the movie. As injured patients show up at Karloff’s doorstep (and he fails miserably to help them or to cure polio correctly), he has no choice but to clash with the ape itself in what should be a terrifying and bone-chilling sequence of cinema history. This, however, is not even remotely the case. For the first time ever (at least on this website), we have an ape who is nothing more than a man dressed in a generic gorilla suit. I challenge you to find the realism in this, but hey, it was 1940, and time was tight to churn out 60-minute epics like this one.

The majority of the film is spent with the most clueless townspeople either guessing where the ape could be hiding or simply becoming his next victims. When the film reaches its dramatic “swerve” ending, Karloff gets to due his favorite things in all of his movies: die. Truth be told, Boris really does get off on a death sequence and soliloquy before the final frame. Maybe I spoiled it a bit by telling you that he buys the farm, but if you know anything about Karloff, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: Maris Wrixon might be the worst actor in the all of the 1940’s. Her portrayal of a polio victim isn’t so much sad because of the polio, but rather the fact that it doesn’t kill her quicker. That would make for some entertaining schlock.

Best Name in the Cast: It’s hard to be so successful when you are not mentioned in the original credits for the film. Yet for I. Stanford Jolley, the “ape” trainer of the film, life sure has to be sweet. I’d like you to remember that the ape used in this film was nothing more than a man in a suit. Did he train the man to walk around in the suit? Or to fling his arms like an ape, or better yet, the way a man in an ape suit would fling his arms like an ape? How did he stay on the payroll for this movie? (Truth of the matter, his character was the ape trainer, but I found his death to be not nearly as comical as pondering what he trained.)

Quote of the Film:

“But you never could lift them before!” -Boris Karloff responds to his patient’s (bound in a wheelchair) revelation about her legs not lifting. Very subtle.

Final Thoughts: You know for a movie that calls itself The Ape, I didn’t get to see a whole lot of, well, ape. In fact, the ape in question shows up for less than 10 minutes onscreen, and the majority of it is spent thrashing about in an awkward and clunky suit. Karloff breezes through as the only actor in the film who can, you know, act. In fact, he puts so much into this picture that you can visibly see he’s out to prove that he never needed Universal Pictures or Bela Lugosi to make him a star in the first place. While he excels marvelously in his efforts, he fails to recognize that the people surrounding him both on and off the scene just tear the movie down to new levels of diabolical madness. Karloff’s demostration of overacting and overreacting (again, death sequence) makes for some funny fodder, but he certainly proved why The Ape isn’t mentioned in the same breath with Frankenstein during his career, that is, unless that breath is the statement: “The Ape sure was a hell of a lot worse than Frankenstein.”
-B.B.

Fatty Drives the Bus (1999)

2008-11-21T17:22:00.000-08:00

Fatty Drives the Bus (1999)

Written By: Mick Napier

Directed By: Mick Napier

Starring: Scot Robinson, Joe Bill, Ken Manthey, Dave Adler, Mike Coleman, Susan Messing

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
When I originally posted the poll to determine just what films would make it into reader request month, I thought including this Tromatic-gem (that’s right, it’s a Troma Team Release all over again) would be taken more as a joke and would bottom out in the voting. Thanks, everyone, for once again proving me wrong and making me review a movie that, by all accounts, should be totally unwatchable.

That said, Fatty Drives the Bus is the kind of movie that you can take something away from. Forget about the multi-million dollar success flicks you’ve seen in the past or plan to see soon. In fact, scrap all movies that both the Academy and the MPAA recommend. If you get the chance, take a seat, present an open mind, and be delighted at the wonder that is Fatty Drives the Bus.

This movie features no actors you’ve ever really heard of. Director Mick Napier’s other screen credits include: NOT A GOD DAMN THING. He’s done veritably nothing with a few writing credits on television shows not even the purest fans would watch. And, if that’s not enough, and as if you couldn’t feel anymore detached from this film from the onset, you get one of the most absurd and outstanding (as in out standing in the rain) plots in the history of cinema. Picture this: Satan sits in his lair, assuming that this day is just like any other. However, when he is informed that a bus full of tourists that was supposed to crash in Chicago has had its course altered because Jesus is in town, he becomes enraged and decides to pay a personal visit to the surface disguised as the bus tour guide. Jesus hears of this news and attempts to thwart the demon’s crusade towards annihilation throughout the course of the day. If that doesn’t sell you, stop reading right now.

Though I could spend all day telling you in detail about the passengers, rest assured that there is not a single character someone could not either identify with or pray gets smashed to bits by the climax. We’ve got a broken down scientist who worked on experiments with puppies, a pair of blissfully negligent parents, the world’s most abusive mother and her emotionally unprepared daughter as well as their cross-dressing girlfriend, a pair of post-modern schlock artists in it for their kicks, and, in case I neglected to mention anyone pivotal the whole shebang, a duo of guys who are optimistically idiotic. I tell you now, a stage adaptation leaves room for nearly a dozen desirable parts.

Anyway, the majority of the 90-minute movie is spent with sight gags, overdone jokes, and terrible filmmaking played intentionally for laughs. Seriously, this movie is about as low budget as it gets, complete with Ed Wood-esque re-cuts, reuse of footage, and visible crew or equipment. As the movie ambles all across the Windy City (literally, we get to see a great depiction of Chicago), we begin to wonder just what hand fate has dealt these souls that Satan is attempting to fill his quota with. Once we have a final confrontation brewing, the literal unthinkable happens.

Yes, Jesus and Satan do meet up just moments before imminent doom, and sit down to a friendly game of chess. The final five minutes of the movie interpret not only the outcome of the game, but the entirety of existence both fictional and non-fictional. Rather than spoil the whole damn thing for you, I’d rather allow you to sit back and enjoy this surprise twist with a keen sense of understanding and recollection that sometimes, this is what makes B-movies worth watching: they try harder, and are terribly charming all around.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: None. I refuse to acknowledge that given how poor everything was (and was intended to be) in this movie that anyone did their job any worse than anyone else. If anything, all members should be rewarded with promotions. BIG FAT PROMOTIONS.

Best Name in the Cast: Not that any name stands out here either, but just for argument’s sake, Matt Walsh does make an appearance in this movie before moving on to a career playing bit parts in almost all of the “Frat Pack” films. I guess that’s an accomplishment, right?

Quote of the Film: For the first time ever, we have a two-way tie!

“Good Morning, Satan! Want a donut?” -Jim, Satan’s humble assistant

“You know, most people fly to Heaven. But Fatty, he drives the bus.” -The Narrator

Final Thoughts: This review is shorter than most, and with good reason. I can’t review this movie with any serious analysis to speak of. Simply put, it’s a light and frothy romp through the inner city with a surprise moral hiding in the outskirts of the plot that lunges forward just when things can’t get anymore outrageous. Fatty Drives the Bus is the kind of movie you can watch over and over again and not get sick of the style it is made in. If the biggest directors in the world saw this movie, they’d react just like the normal folks in the crowd do. A simple tip of the cap and appreciation that, no matter how bad it may be, you can make a movie this well (or unwell) too. Without anything really witty to end on, I’d like to reiterate that “most people fly to Heaven. But Fatty, he drives the bus.”
-B.B.

Flash Gordon (1980)

2008-11-14T22:12:00.000-08:00

Flash Gordon (1980)

Written By: Lorenzo Semple, Jr.

Directed By: Mike Hodges

Starring: Sam J. Jones, Melody Anderson, Ornella Muti, Max Von Sydow, Topol, Timothy Dalton, Mariangela Melato, Brian Blessed, Peter Wyngarde

Country of Origin: United States of America (though based upon the cast, you could guess any country in Europe and be spot on)

The Idea:
When the voting procedures completed and all votes were tallied, I was surprised to see that you requested a review (in larger than expected numbers) of Flash Gordon. I’ve reviewed campy films before, some of which became camp fodder years after their original release. Night of the Demons, Sleepaway Camp, and Batman & Robin fall into the category of better known reviews, while certain pictures, like The Toxic Avenger and Leprechaun 4: In Space, fall by the wayside when we observe their camp value on this site. Now that I’ve provided you with links to many classic examples of “so bad its good” films, you should be well versed in what you’re looking at with my dilemma on Flash Gordon.

When it was proposed, produced, filmed and released, Flash Gordon pulled no punches about its cinematic purpose: it was intentionally campy and was made as such to hark back to the days of the comic strip it was printed on as well as more classical examples of science fiction. Though we’ll examine old school pictures like that in our December lecture series, we could easily have seen Flash Gordon as one of those movies despite its release date occurring several years after those movies. The tribute and parody we’ll see in this movie create quite the impossible task: reviewing a movie that could easily be summed up as “intentionally bad.” If you’re content with that estimation, stop reading right now. If not, I humbly implore you to continue reading as we delve into the cinematic synopsis of Flash Gordon.

From start to finish, Flash Gordon is, without a shadow of a doubt, the most over-the-top exhibition of science fiction/fantasy flicks in the history of motion pictures. Despite any other films that claim (or even appear) otherwise, this is the patron saint of bad, campy movies. Within the first five minutes of the picture, we, the objective viewer having never heard or seen anything related to this Flash character or his escapades, are bombarded by comic strip flashbacks and ripping chords from Queen. Hey, we even get to see bright switchboards that flicker faster than you can say epilepsy with phrases such as “Hot Hail” on them. I question, and in fact, defy you to explain what purpose an evil genius could have with HOT FUCKING HAIL. If it’s hot, it isn’t hail. It would melt and thus this precipitation would be rain. HOT RAIN. Hot hail seems to more imply that a volcano is just dispersing with a new form of heated snow, but I digress.

Moving to our actual plot and series of events that we call a movie, title character and avid self-promoter Flash Gordon (whose shirt also says Flash in case you somehow didn’t remember his god damn name) is, through a series of strange and bizarre events, transported to the base of Ming the Merciless in outer space with his associates. Not surprisingly, Ming intends to build from his home planet of Mongo (what a name for a planet, by the way) where he is emperor onto the universe. Earth, the next planet in his path of world domination, has been somewhat of a spot of bother and its up to Flash Gordon to save the world. Thankfully, Flash is in great shape to tackle the job, as he was doubling as quarterback for the New York Jets. No fucking joke. Flash Gordon, apparently predating a real superhero in Brett Favre, was the quarterback for the New York Jets, and his first name is Flash. This review could be nine pages long with statements about the sheer stupidity of everything going on in the movie (including Flash himself taking a steel ball off the forehead and break-neck speed), but that would get pretty redundant, don’t you think?

Flash (along with the others, but who cares about them) eventually falls into disarray in Ming’s quarters and is presumed dead until he is saved by one of Ming’s accomplices, Princess Aura. Her fascination with Flash leads him to a massive conflict where he will have to choose between the feminine desire she presents and his dedication to his comrade Dale (a woman, by the way). Meanwhile, Ming the Merciless is determined to marry Dale as part of an insidious plot to continue his conquest, yet his own world has fallen to shambles as an intergalactic crisis is on the horizon and the fate of the universe depends of this very conflict. Obviously, Ming has never played Risk or Axis and Allies and is therefore completely hapless in his mission.

Much of this movie takes place in the far off locales previously described, some of which look like a cross between Endor and any treetop level in Donkey Kong Country. Despite the lack of, well, coherence this film gives the media literate, it delivers some very nice makeup, costuming, and special effects as well as impressive scenery. That’s right, I’m giving the movie some much needed praise through all of its audacious butchering of common sense. In fact, the entirety of the movie is solidly invested behind these visual idiosyncrasies and makes for quite an entertaining romp for the senses. Combine it all with that awesome soundtrack from Queen and we are astounded as an audience.

Nothing more I could say could help you fully understand this incredible movie unless I told you to simply watch it. I recommend watching each and every film I review, and this one is at the pinnacle of that mountain of information. After all, even as the movie concludes, we are left with one more campy element of suspense that trumps all others. What could possibly conclude a movie like this so perfectly that it is the most clichéd bit of cinema in history. Well, that’s simple. One screen graphic that shows the following statement verbatim: “The End?” Nothing tops that.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: Anyone involved with the stunts and the stunt coordinator/choreographer should not just be fired, but imprisoned for their acts against humanity. As cheeky and fun as some of the fight sequences can be in this movie, one particular duel takes the cake. In his greatest moment as a football player, Flash attempts to fight off Ming’s troops through various incarnations of sporting plays. In case you’re wondering how this could possibly give anyone a pink slip, I have included this link to better illustrate the lunacy.

Best Name in the Cast: Sam J. Jones went on from this breakout role as Flash Gordon to star in more forgettable television shows and scripted films than David Naughton. His horrible acting, often rumored to have been dubbed over after a disagreement with the director, is just the start of his inclusion on this dubious list. He has opened the door for several others following him to do the exact same thing: make one big time movie (regardless of quality) despite never having believably acted before. A short list of model followers includes Hayden Christensen and directorially, Roland Emmerich.

Quote of the Film:

“As I was going under, I started to recite Shakespeare, the Talmud, the formulas of Einstein, anything I could remember, even a song from The Beatles. It armored me, girl! They couldn’t wipe those things away. You can’t beat the human spirit!” -Doctor Hans Zarkov, and seriously, WTF?

Final Thoughts: Commercially, Flash Gordon was a total failure that suffered backlash and criticism for intentionally wasting an audience’s time with an almost spoofy and clichéd version of science fiction cinema. Many considered it neither fun nor enjoyable, and rather, disregarded it as a simple exercise in ridiculous ends to a once purposeful means. Still, Flash Gordon is heralded almost 30 years later as one of the only classic examples of an intentional camp film that fulfilled its own legacy and became a cult cinema must for film aficionados. 30 years from now, when this film is a senior citizen, I expect that movies like Snakes on a Plane will follow in key because of their absolute absurdity. I myself, am an absurd mind, and I plan to watch this movie again, more than likely this week. Most people don’t get the absurdist enjoyment of movies like Flash Gordon or others in the genre, but then again, seeing as how it is absurd, isn’t that the point in the first place?
B.B.

Batman & Robin (1997)

2008-11-07T22:26:00.000-08:00

Batman & Robin (1997)

Written by: Akiva Goldsman

Directed by: Joel Schumacher

Starring: Arnold Schwarzenegger, George Clooney, Chris O’Donnell, Uma Thurman, Alicia Silverstone

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
When I opened up my doors to the viewing public for an opportunity to make their voices heard on a broad list of films for this month’s “Reader Request” theme, I was overwhelmingly bombarded by requests to see a review of the following piece of cinematic history. Over 76% of the voters, an astoundingly large mark in comparison with other films, chose to see a review of what is recognized as one of the worst movies in the categories of super heroes, sequels, releases of 1997, releases of the 90’s, action flicks, and, in case that’s not enough, all time releases.

The movie in question, obviously, is Batman & Robin has directed by Joel Schumacher. Unsurprisingly, Schumacher’s idea for the fourth installment in the Gotham crusader’s escapades was to capitalize on the success he had with the former film, Batman Forever. Keep in mind that the majority of Batman Forever was played with a satirical nature not found in Tim Burton’s first two movies, and it was also accompanied with unrivaled special effects and over the top action and characters. No wonder Jim Carrey received such praise. He could have been dressed as a garbage man with a sign that read “Riddler” and people would have bought it.

When it came time for Batman & Robin to become reality, the producers, writers, and Schumacher (of course) thought they should go bigger and better than their last exploit. What they inevitably did was front-load the cast of characters with some of the “greatest” of all time, ignoring that the script sucked and that Schumacher himself was not very good at his directing job. They also figuratively and literally raped the Batman franchise for 10 years. That’s right, even with the socially redeeming Batman Begins, it took 10 years, upon the release of The Dark Knight to critical acclaim, for the movie world to finally forget about Batman & Robin. That was, until you all suggested dominantly that I review it. Thanks.

This movie is the epitome of a super hero cartoon on Saturday Mornings, except that instead of being literal animation (thus suspending belief at the onset), it progresses ever so slowly for two of the longest, boobless hours in history. Batman & Robin is the story of Batman (no fucking shit?) and his trusty sidekick Dick Grayson (that’s Robin) fighting a new menace to Gotham City in the form of Mr. Freeze. A tortured soul, Freeze is played laughably by Arnold Schwarzenegger in a pre-Governor stage of his career. Freeze finds that he can only survive by infesting his suit, vehicle, and hideout (a freezer, real original) with large diamonds, most of which he steals from various Gotham gatherings. Sooner than later, Freeze is accompanied by Poison Ivy, a sexy spit of woman out to destroy Gotham City so “Mother Nature” can take its course. She too has a sidekick in the form of Bane, a steroid-induced freak that was once a convict on death row. I hope you’re following all of this, because there will be a quiz.

The majority of the movie is spent jumping from one pointless action scene to another with Freeze’s lackeys trying to overcome Batman and Robin while they fight amongst themselves over the seductive Poison Ivy. Oh sure, there’s the whole side plot about Alfred being on his death bed due to a rare disease that Freeze’s wife also has, but that only has significant for five non-sequential minutes of the movie, four of which are spent introducing us to Batgirl. Seriously, is there a fucking union on sidekicks in Gotham?

Ambling (aimlessly might I add) towards the climax, all of the characters brawl until the good guys get the advantage and send the bad guys off to the loony bin, but not without convenient resolution for Freeze and Ivy. Not that this is surprising, but this Batman movie does more to point out the old cliché of gadget and plot “convenience” for the lead characters. Sure, Batman doesn’t have his “Carousel Reversal Spray” but its pretty damn close. In the first ten minutes, its evident that he didn’t know what he was matching up against in Mr. Freeze. Hell, he didn’t even know who that was until Chief Gordon told him so, yet sure enough, and in a pinch, when he clicked his heels together, Batman’s boots sprouted ice skates. Fucking ice skating in a Batman movie. I know I should avoid the overused “Batman On Ice” jokes, but it is way too hard. During the same sequence, he’s got heat lasers able to zap off any ill effects from being frozen, because unsurprisingly, the boy blunder suffers that very fate. At least I haven’t attacked the homosexual convenience of nipples on suits and constant shots of BATMAN’S ASS. Soft core pornography isn’t this bad, EVER.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: While this is another classic example of cinema that is an indictment on everyone involved, if I had to pick one (instead of the bailout answer of everyone) crew member to give the axe, I’d wield it smoothly and rapidly towards writer Akiva Goldsman, who scripted a total piece of shit with bad lines, bad story, and incredibly over the top puns. If Arnold says Freeze one more time, my television will commit suicide all by itself. For a better example, click here.

Best name in the cast: How about that cameo appearance by former professional wrestler and Minnesota Governor Jesse “the Body” Ventura? Just a few years before Ventura’s “We shocked the world” campaign, he was a simple and gullible guard at Gotham’s famed Arkham Asylum. He also dies in the movie. There’s a payoff.

Quote of the Film:

“That's right, Dick. I want them so much, I can taste it.” -Bruce Wayne, giving us another line that, while delivered deadpan, is perfect fodder for the sheer stupidity of it all.

Final Thoughts: I know, we’ve already gathered that this movie sucks and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for forcing me to review it. But, through all of the complaints, at least we know that we’re (or at least I’m) not alone in the constant flood of hatred for this film. While The Dark Knight makes huge bank because Christopher Nolan “gets” the Gotham City regime, Joel Schumacher’s career has never recovered from the hits he got in his Batman directing prowess. Schumacher moved on to becoming something of an enigma himself, showing up every once in a while to direct films like The Number 23. Oh, guess what? That movie sucked, too. Maybe he should quit his day job. I’ve watched this movie dozens of times. I mean really, dozens of times, and I can safely say that it gets worse every single time I see it. How bad does a movie have to be to get worse each time you watch it? It’s like a contest in endurance, but even when the credits roll, I feel like I’m always on the losing side.
B.B.

Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982)

2008-10-31T22:51:00.000-07:00

Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982)

Written By: Tommy Lee Wallace

Directed By: Tommy Lee Wallace

Starring: Tom Atkins, Stacey Nelkin, Dan O’Herlihy

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
Before I begin to completely decimate and shred any piece of dignity that Halloween III: Season of the Witch possibly had left before making its dubious way to my website, I’d like to take this time to share with you a simple history lesson and perspective analysis. I, like many others, have watched the majority of “slasher” picks with waning degrees of interest, mainly because each one in the like follows along the same lines of perpetual stupidity. There’s a killer on the loose, he’s going to kill you next bitch, don’t run upstairs you dumb bastard. That’s the basics of Slasher 101 for ya. That being said, the Halloween series is a completely different (and altogether original) set of films that don’t follow this same formula nearly at all.

John Carpenter is, simply put, a genius. His masterful works in the genre include the original film as well as its sequel, Halloween II. Taking place during the same time and on the exact same evening, they are the perfect and ideal example for suspenseful chillers from the early 80’s that predate the infatuation with Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, and yes, even Ashley J. Williams. The characters, whether they be scream queen Jamie Lee Curtis as Laurie Strode or even the menacing Michael Myers (really just a William Shatner/Captain Kirk mask after all this time), were simplistic enough that you could understand what their primary conflict was yet they required a minimum two films just to battle through it all. With ingenuity in both his technique and directorial skills, Carpenter crafted very intelligent writing amongst the blood and guts we expected (and were often appalled by) to see.

Carpenter’s final contribution to the series was when he determined it show go in a new direction. John had fashioned out an idea that Halloween, the name at least, should apply to a broader spectrum as an anthology series, chronicling several different eerie happenings on October 31st. The idea itself seems well and good, but when its very first script was green lighted for Halloween III: Season of the Witch, the ship capsized after striking more obstructions that a silver ball inside a pinball machine on tilt.

I should have known that reviewing this movie, or simply watching it again, was a bad idea. I should have noticed the signs. What signs, you may ask? Well, how about the signs that indicated that my cheap DVD copy of the film refused to play nearly six times in three different players before finally succumbing to my shitty movie lust. By the time it finally played, I had forgotten why exactly I wanted to watch it in the first place. Within 15 minutes, I was reminded about just how this movie has changed the process of sequel making for better and worse.

The story is all about a corporation, Silver Shamrock, who is on top of the Halloween costume business with their three uniquely different masks available in stores nationwide. Each mask comes with a seal of authenticity (an important button for the plot in the future) and each is encouraged to be worn during a live Silver Shamrock broadcast on the night of Halloween. Though this all seems innocent enough, strange happenings occur and introduce us to the always lovable Tom Atkins as Dr. Dan Challis. Dr. Challis is chilled by the recent disturbances these masks are causing, and upon investigation, he learns the shocking truth: Silver Shamrock is an evil corporation set to destroy America’s youth via subliminal advertising and messages in their nighttime screening that will (and I kid you not) squish every kid’s head into a pile of bugs and, presumably, kill them. I couldn’t make that up if I tried, or even through darts at an idea board. To fully understand just how awful it all is, watch this for best results.

Apparently, everyone in the good ol’ USA has bought one of these killer masks and has no idea just what destruction they can cause, so Challis sets out to rectify the situation by eliminating Silver Shamrock and everyone behind this insidious plot. Even with the constant bewilderment such an awful, awful plot has to offer, it also presents an important sociological sidebar on how consumers are driven simply by advertising and rarely look at the harmful side effects of the products they have purchased. Granted, this line of thinking is taken several steps further with the inclusion of mass murder, but we’re not far off with the kind of materialistic society we’ve become. That Tickle Me Elmo might as well be a bomb, and you’d never know, either.

No amount of intelligent subtext can cover up for the sheer audacity that the movie presents as we reach the not-so-thrilling climax and conclusion. Dr. Challis, along with some much needed help (read: gratuitous tits) thwarts the corporation with the very technology they are using against society, but his efforts fall on deaf ears when one television station refuses his demands and plays the deadly, seizure-inducing commercial as the credits roll. So much for saving the world as a renegade on Halloween.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: Today we’ll go with Dan O’Herlihy, the evil and demented creator of Silver Shamrock’s deadly masks. If for no other reason than his character is a benign tumor in the throat of life, his character’s name is Conal Cochran, and that’s a really stupid fucking name.

Best Name in the Cast: Tom Atkins, and not just for being born on the same day as this oft-humbled reviewer. Atkins as a knack for sizing up these roles, as he often plays a washed up cop, doctor, detective, etc. against the world. The man nips from the bottle more times onscreen than Andre the Giant at a wine tasting convention.

Quote of the Film:

“The night no one came home.” -Selected from the trailer and tagline of the movie specifically for its foreshadowing connotation. The first movie featured the tagline: “The night ‘he’ came home,” referring to Michael Myers. Ironic that “no one” came home for part three, considering that he makes no appearance in the film’s plot or continuity. Marvelous.

Final Thoughts: The financial and critical flop that Halloween III: Season of the Witch became left movie producers with no other option. If they were to continue this franchise for lucrative sums, they would have to resurrect Michael Myers, something that they literally did 6 years later for Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers. Through incredibly baffling events, he came back and ended up just as shameful as any other horror movie pioneer. At least Halloween 4 delivered what its tagline promised, instead of what we got from this movie, in which it delivered, well, I guess a third installment to a once successful and dignified series. Too bad that didn’t last, not like it ever does.
B.B.

High School Musical 3: Senior Year (2008)

2008-10-24T22:52:00.000-07:00

High School Musical 3: Senior Year (2008)

Written By: Peter Barsocchini

Directed By: Kenny Ortega

Starring: Zac Efron, Vanessa Hudgens, Ashley Tisdale, Lucas Grabeel, Corbin Bleu, Monique Coleman

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
I am anticipating hate mail for this one. Why, you may ask, would anybody voluntarily pay to see this movie, let alone review it on a sight clinging to what little credibility it has left? Well, if you haven’t found the answer to this question on your own, then you clearly don’t know me very well. I’m digging deep this time to write a different sort of review, especially since this is the first movie I’ve reviewed that is still in theaters. Years down the road, if that’s the answer to a trivia question, you’ll be just as embarrassed that you knew the answer was High School Musical 3: Senior Year.

We’re talking about the Disney phenomenon that started as a made for TV movie, and after millions of dollars made from ratings and merchandising, Disney finally made the logical decision to take their game to the big time with a full-blown cinematic debut. Bigger budget, bigger musical, bigger bank. That’s the simple philosophy we have to follow when subjecting ourselves to the uber-cool society of East High School and our six pack of leads on the home stretch. High School Musical 3: Senior Year is about to help us get our heads in the game.

Before we begin, I humbly implore you to take this review for what it is as I shameless shill for the Disney Company. If you are displeased with this entry, I encourage you to read other entries, like Bordello of Blood, Demon Knight, and if you like musicals, Shock Treatment.

Not surprisingly, our story begins with the same basic plot, following the lives of the East High Wildcats throughout the end of basketball season (as documented in the solid opening number “Now or Never,” which borrows lyrical elements from Cameo’s “Word Up”) and onward to the upcoming Spring Musical and Senior Prom. Everyone is familiar with just what goes down during their final stanza in high school, but rarely do we see it presented with such flash and pizzazz. We meet up again with Troy and Gabriella, each of whom are planning their prospective futures at separate colleges. In case you’re wondering why I single out these two (and you’ve never heard of High School Fucking Musical), its because 92% of the movie is about just what they’ll be doing after they graduate. Whether one will be taking scandalous photos of themselves for the other has yet to be determined.

Other students are eager to leave to, but each has found themselves, in their own way, more or less focused on the Spring Musical and the fate of Troy Bolton. Troy is the basketball stud with aspirations of a full athletic scholarship, but it will leave him thousands of miles away from his beloved Gabriella who plans to attend Stanford. Troy also begins to battle with the decision of going even further away when he learns that scholars from Julliard are willing to offer him a free ride if he impresses them. Tell me, who in the world is this fucking talented?

To be fair, High School Musical 3: Senior Year drags along in points that seem endless and at least five of the musical numbers are weaker than they were in the first two movies. Granted, we get to see a very revealing outfit on Ashley Tisdale during much of these proceedings, and the costuming in general is fabulous, but the movie more or less feels like, well, a made for TV movie. Maybe that’s because even with a bigger budget and all the hype of mainstream media, its still the same old movie as the first two, and that doesn’t make it very good for theaters across the country. At times, you’ll be so stifled by the onscreen antics that you’ll be spotting interesting anachronisms, like how Corbin Bleu is clearly too old to be in this role considering he has a five o’clock shadow.

While it is just as fun and cheeky as the first two movies, new characters and added conflicts do little to bolster this and make it a serious strike on the big screen. Though it will get far with fans of the series and casual moviegoers alike, it hasn’t got much legs beyond that unless you look far beyond the surface to Zac Efron’s performance.

Call me crazy, but Efron’s third time around as Troy Bolton is his best. He’s in an all-too-realistic struggle to decide on a future for himself, all the while knowing that he will be letting down his father, friends, and countless others if he simply chooses what he wants. His frustrations bellow until the swan song, “Scream,” is performed. This song, in any musical in the world, is a passionately driven masterpiece that does more than just serve as passable. “Scream” is the only portion of the movie that transcends the screen and speaks directly to all of us who were torn apart by the choices our futures presented following the learning experience. I won’t spoil his final decision, but seeing as how it’s a Disney movie, you should see it coming.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: Wow, I could name a lot of them, but I think I’ll go with lead writer Peter Barsocchini, who managed to neglect several side-plots that he himself created in this third installment. Granted, it is pretty late in the series to create new characters, conflicts, and even relationships, but if you’re going to do it with a hugely adjusted budget, at least you could go all out. I had questions unanswered, damn it!

Best Name in the Cast: Matt Prokop makes his debut in the franchise as a new character known for most of the movie as Rocketman, a basketball player and general burnout who, whether or not we choose to accept it, is a scene stealer every time he’s in it. Prokop clearly has the same charisma that Zac Efron stumbled into and will likely be a name to remember as Disney’s next pet project.

Quote of the Film:

“It’s the night of our nightmares.” -Ensemble during the song A Night to Remember, and I bet you couldn’t agree more.

Final Thoughts: You know, I do honestly hope this is the last one of these movies to be made, and not just because of what it is. From a purely objective viewpoint, too many times do film companies, actors, producers, directors, writers, and anyone else in showbiz create excess sequels in an effort to swindle me out of more of my hard earned money. You already got a minimum of 10 bucks out of me just because I went to theaters to see this movie. Isn’t my shame enough of a price to pay, then to have to sit through another series that should simply be a trilogy and not anything more? It doesn’t get more definitive than Senior Year, unless we have High School Musical 4: GED Equivalency on the horizon.
B.B.

Tales from the Crypt Presents: Bordello of Blood (1996)

2008-10-17T21:58:00.000-07:00

Tales from the Crypt Presents: Bordello of Blood (1996)

Written By: Bob Gale, Robert Zemeckis, A L Katz, Gilbert Adler

Directed By: Gilbert Adler

Starring: Dennis Miller, Erika Eleniak, Angie Everhart, Chris Sarandon, Corey Feldman, John Kassir

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
Face it: when you’re hot, you’re hot, and when you’re Bordello of Blood, you’re definitely not. With Tales from the Crypt on seemingly its last legs on HBO and the attention of the five pioneer executive producers being harnessed by their new project, Perversions of Science, TFTC was beginning to feel like a horror afterthought. With only a handful of episodes left in its arsenal, the show was making one last gasp at staying as hip as it had been since the late 80’s. That final shot, or better yet, stab (I’m not counting puns this time), was made with the release of Tales From the Crypt Presents: Bordello of Blood in 1996.

First of all, you can’t simply compare this movie to its predecessor, Demon Knight. The first flick in what was scheduled to be three was a superb effort that was entrenched with a real Tales-feeling in it. Demon Knight also performed quite well as it was released on a horror weekend for films (a Friday the 13th), often recognized as a cheap ploy by movie companies to rake in more dollars. Cheap as it may be, that ploy is pivotal to the fledgling flick we have in front of us. You see, Bordello of Blood was supposed to see a release just like that. You know, around Halloween, or on one of those mystery weekends. Yet, when Universal Pictures stepped in to produce the movie, they chose to move it to the Summer of ‘96 to fill their cinematic quota. That timing, combined with a film that was, overall, not all that good, left us with a bitter taste in our mouths while watching the second big screen attempt to keep Tales from the Crypt alive.

In another somewhat original horror plot, Bordello of Blood is all about a sect of vampires that have been resurrected by a mysterious relic (the very same key from Demon Knight) to do the bidding of their master. That bidding is actually to work for the Lord Almighty and exterminate sinners at a heavenly speed. How, exactly, will these blood-sucking vermin be doing such? Why, they’ve disguised themselves as loose women with loose inhibitions in their very own brothel. I often wonder how much better the box office take would have been for this movie if they simply titled it Vampire Whorehouse.

The lead role of a washed-up detective (a type of character we will see often in b-grade horror) is played by Dennis Miller, who began his personal war with me (that he is as of yet unaware of) by attempting to insert a one-liner in every situation. Though the character is something of a lush, he does have the best intentions at heart: rescuing the brother of his newest (and sexiest) client Erika Eleniak while also diving deep into the darkness of the Bordello. In order to fully rid the society of this plague of blood-sucking (among other things, I’m sure) vixens, he’ll need the help of the preacher Jimmy Current (J.C., how clever) and a slew of others to destroy the head vampire, an especially nasty bit of crumpet named Lilith.

While the premise is a classic Crypt play on morals and values, it still seems a little far-fetched. What kind of ministry would employ the agents of Satan to further their own supposed “godly” agenda? No body of committee or government would ever hire their sworn enemy to exterminate another group in the name of a utilitarian decision, would they? Isn’t that unrealistic? Whoops, I’ve said too much.

Before I continue to take apart this movie, I should consider the pluses. Angie Everhart is delightful as Lilith, the queen bee in this vampire den. Though her role is often demanding of a very dry, deadpan style humor that can be overshadowed by sex appeal and yes, horrible fucking puns, she shines through it and easily steals the movie away from Miller and Eleniak, whose on-screen romance drags the film down like an anchor. Chris Sarandon is also the epitome of a saintly, evangelical minister when dawning the character of the Reverend J.C. His transformation from seedy preacher to bible bruiser is often hilarious given its satirical nature. And, as mentioned before, the plot of the movie is well done given all of the typical twists, turns, and moral questions raised from something with Tales from the Crypt stamped on the front cover.

But all of that simply isn’t enough to cover up for the glaring issues in Bordello of Blood. Maybe it had too much to live up to with Demon Knight, or maybe it just isn’t too terribly well executed. In fact, this is a disposable horror movie that, by the end of it, you find yourself rooting to see your protagonist Miller get killed. He’s seriously annoying, and his brand of humor would have been better presented had he been the first victim claimed. I don’t even want to bring up the evil little person in this movie, because if you’re going to watch a movie with evil people that aren’t too terribly tall, I recommend something like this, because they’re all going to be bad.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: Despite Dennis Miller’s incredibly annoying voice, face, jokes, and character, he’s not nearly as frustrating as Corey Feldman. Feldman, who used to be suave, cute, and productive, is none of these things as he gets a big role in yet another vampire movie. Stick to The Lost Boys, for the love of Christ.

Best Name in the Cast: And for the second film in a row, the cameo made by William Sadler as the Mummy in the opening and closing scenes of this film make it all worthwhile. Skip the 85 minutes in between (you know, the actual movie) and watch his sequences with the Cryptkeeper over and over again. Never boring.

Quote of the Film:

“Two, Four, Six, Eight! You can watch me masturbate!” -Lilith, cheering in a vision to Rafe (Dennis Miller). Just another quirky seduction of the vampire’s lust.

Final Thoughts: I mentioned previously that Universal Pictures pushed up the release date of this movie for their own personal agenda to be fulfilled. That decision caused Bordello of Blood to bomb astronomically at the box office, and plans for a third Tales film, as well perhaps a revitalization of the franchise and more TV time, were scrapped. The third film was shelved indefinitely and a fourth film, Ritual, was produced and directed straight to video with a Tales logo forcefully slapped on it, despite having nothing to do with the series or this movie. The new series, Perversions of Science, was canceled during its first production run. Tales from the Crypt ended with Season 7 on television one month prior to this movie’s release. Bordello of Blood is just average enough to make some money if it were released around Halloween or on any of the aforementioned “horror weekends,” but it’s a sub-par film to be released in the Summer, and it killed the franchise for years to come. In closing: Fuck you, Universal Pictures. Fuck you hard.
B.B.

Tales from the Crypt Presents: Demon Knight (1995)

2008-10-10T01:18:00.000-07:00

Tales from the Crypt Presents: Demon Knight (1995)

Written By: Ethan Reiff, Cyrus Voris, and Mark Bishop

Directed By: Ernest Dickerson

Starring: Billy Zane, William Sadler, Jada Pinkett, Brenda Bakke, CCH Pounder, Thomas Haden Church

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
It isn’t hard to pinpoint the staple of my childhood bloodlust. From nearly age two, I received the honor and privilege of staying up late on the weekends to watch HBO’s original programming known as Tales from the Crypt. Somewhere during my adolescence, my parents were even kind enough to tape a six-hour Tales marathon for me that I still have in my possession. Sure, the episodes were primarily from season 3 (which explains why I know every line in that particular year of shows) and featured topics that I didn’t always understand, but I cherished them for a long, long time.

With a warm embrace, the show made the jump to the big screen in January of 1995 with the following movie, titled Tales from the Crypt Presents: Demon Knight, or just Demon Knight for short. Little did I know that at age 7, I was experiencing my favorite horror movie of all time. That’s right, I put no others in front of Demon Knight as being top of the pops in the gory genre that I review most often. In fact, it seems almost a misprint when I discuss films that don’t feature some sort of blood and guts appeal. So, in order to keep pace, I present to you one of the finest B-grade horror films ever (and also one of the most original), and not just because it was based on one of the best television shows known to man.

The place is New Mexico, and the plot is rather simplistic at first glance. Brayker, a rebel on the run, is protecting a mysterious relic that contains the power to bind and constrict the demons of the night from overtaking the realm of Earth and destroying mankind. He is pursued furiously by The Collector, a nasty minion of Satan that is (mind the pun, it is a TFTC Review) hell-bent on stealing the relic, or “key” back for the dark side. Short on time, options, and now, innocence (Brayker has caused quite an accident for the local police to clean up), our fleeting protagonist shacks up inside a rundown roach motel with several others who are typical residents. Turns out Brayker is going to get these folks into more trouble than they bargained for as the Collector shows up and all hell (Pun #2) breaks loose, beginning with a fist through the face of the Sherriff of this crummy little town.

Put your mind at ease, Dear Reader, because if all of these shenanigans seem to be too far fetched, then you’re in for a real surprise. While most of the early scenes in this movie are used to build characters and side-plots (a rarity in the horror business), they also mount the tension behind the whereabouts of this key and the protection Brayker is trying to provide. Yes, this is a story about death and demons, but its also a story about everyday people allowing their defenses to be lowered and their vulnerability to consume and corrupt them. We’ll get to that in more detail in a little bit.

For now, we return to the basics, as a fed up Collector takes out his rage by unleashing demons to take the house from the humans. While the characters survive the initial onslaught, the Collector is a crafty veteran that utilizes the art of seduction to get what he wants. Played aptly by Billy Zane, he uses a soft whisper to indulge in carnal desire with the characters inside the building, and though he himself cannot enter (due to a blood seal placed around the complex), he manages to find a way in by stealing the souls of the enchanted. This is where things take a turn for the worst, as some of the characters begin to die off in nasty ways, and others find themselves risking (and losing) life and limb to escape the clutches of the demons that are now polluting the house. While Wally, a former mail clerk is the first to be eliminated, Irene, the desk assistant for this rented out apartment complex takes it the worst. She has her arm ripped right out of socket and proceeds to go the remainder of the film with half an arm. Let’s give her a hand for that (Pun #3).

As Demon Knight continues, so does an ongoing story about the origin of the key, demons, and conflict taking place in real time. Turns out, this isn’t your typical demon possession movie (take that Night of the Demons). These demons have been scouring the Earth since Genesis in search of seven keys that, when formed in a circle, bring back the darkness of the universe and their reign of evil. While we learn of the descendants of this, the last remaining heavenly key, we are also exposed to more religious allegory than most films, not just horror, will ever provide.

This is where Demon Knight really excels, by providing the audience with an easy to follow yet incredibly immersive back story that, while a bit far-fetched, fit’s the story perfectly. While very few people will point to this film as a prime example of what a truly creepy horror movie should be, I’ll stand up and proudly exclaim that your movie is only as good as the history behind it. When I encourage you to watch a movie, I attempt to avoid the spoilage of the climax and ending. Trust that I will again be doing that for this movie, as I don’t want to lose my head (Pun #4, related to the Cryptkeeper) by going overboard in this review.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: I previously mentioned a character named Wally in this review. Well, if you’re unfamiliar with the work of Charles Fleischer before his portrayal of Wally Enfield, failed postal worker in this movie, then listen up. He voiced Roger Rabbit and Benny the Cab in Who Framed Roger Rabbit less than a decade earlier. While most people would call that versatile, I feel that Fleischer sold himself short by accepting the role of a bumbling fool who you are happy to see bite it early on.

Best Name in the Cast: Not surprisingly, the winner is William Sadler, who, as of press time, has appeared in more episodes of Tales from the Crypt than any other player that was not a regular (John Kassir). He was in the very first episode, The Man Who Was Death, as well as an appearance as Death (of Bill & Ted fame) in a later season. Talk about a guy who’s dying to stay with the show (Pun #5). Sadler narrowly won the category of the Patron Saint of B-Movies, Dick Miller.

Quote of the Film:

“God Damn it, get that pussy off the table! …I meant the cat.” -Irene, mistakenly addressing the neighborhood bicycle Cordelia.

Final Thoughts: I’ve been pretty generous to my favorite horror movie of all time, which is not surprising in the least. Demon Knight is not without its flaws, but it doesn’t have too many for the standard horror film made in 1995. In fact, if you ever want a thought-provoking original story that has just enough gore, violence, and yes, that tricky bastard religion spliced in, then you should look no further than this Tales-produced gem. The finished product might seem corny in hindsight, but that won’t stop you from keeping your own pun count with all the deadpan delivery that Demon Knight distributes.
B.B.

Zombi: Dawn of the Dead (1978)

2008-10-03T11:19:00.000-07:00

Zombi: Dawn of the Dead (1978)

Written By: George A. Romero

Directed By: George A. Romero

Starring: David Emge, Ken Foree, Scott H. Reiniger, Gaylen Ross

Country of Origin: United States of America (as presented to an Italian audience)

The Idea:
Now hold on just one minute. How can someone claiming to be an enthusiast of b-movie schlock possibly review a movie like Dawn of the Dead? After all, it is the second in the line of quintessential living dead films from George A. Romero, and furthermore, it remains one of the most popular horror films of all time amongst critics and fans. It also happens to be the masterpiece of special effects cinema as present by King of Gore Tom Savini, so again, we must ask, how can you do this film justice by reviewing it, or even discussing it in the same disappointed breath as movies like Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things?

Well, folks, the truth of the matter is that I can’t review Dawn of the Dead. Nothing I could say about the movie would give you any new insight that you didn’t discover on your own. But, as a technical loophole, I am at liberty to discuss with you the Italian cut of the film, as presented internationally by Dario Argento. You see, by all logic, even though the characters and plot are the same, the film Zombi: Dawn of the Dead (English translation) is far different from the 1978 masterpiece of Romero.

Let’s start with the important things first: when the original Dawn premiered in the United States, it was a critical success and George Romero had himself another winner for the genre. The movie quickly gained cult status, and why wouldn’t it? It is outstanding, and frankly speaking, in a league of its own in regards to zombie pictures. What the original Dawn of the Dead offers to audiences is more than just gore and brutality. Oh sure, there is plenty of that to go around as Tom Savini could show you (and did) on the screen. After all, Savini was quickly hired to work on Friday the 13th following his triumph in Romeroland. But the movie was so much more than that. It was an epic work of art that provoked the cerebral cortex almost as much as the gag reflex. George A. Romero challenged audiences to think about a post-apocalyptic society with commentary leaps and bounds ahead of its time. Romero set the standard for films after this by doing one incredibly important thing: he created a zombie movie that wasn’t about zombies.

Fast forward to nearly nine months later, and we have the Italian (and pretty much every foreign country) release of Zombi: Dawn of the Dead from Dario Argento. Argento was no stranger to horror himself. Having mastered his craft in films like the ever-so-creepy Suspiria and lesser-known Tenebre, Argento understood how to get to the international audience. When he took the helm for this project, he would revolutionize Euro Horror (or EuroShock) in ways that no one could ever have anticipated. It is for this reason that we are documenting this movie and showing up all film students around the world. So now, without further ado, we stop all this flogging and make with a review.

Zombi: Dawn of the Dead is essentially the same story you’ve heard about before. As a sequel to Night of the Living Dead, Dawn picks up in a world of chaos. Local TV stations (centralized this time in the Northeast) are running low on both time and resources as the plague spreads further and faster. Francine is our first major player, and she’s attempting to flee the town just as quickly as everyone else. She’ll meet up with her helicopter pilot (how fortunate) of a boyfriend Steven quite soon. Meanwhile, just across town, military reinforcements have been sent to break up a complex of militant immigrants and have been given orders to destroy any in their paths. That train is quickly derailed when many of the illegal residents are themselves already among the dead. Here we are introduced to SWAT team members Roger and Peter, each of which worked for different units on the building and are now more or less “all alone.” They decide to join forces and know of a plot to leave town using the air as their playground. That’s right, they’ll be meeting up with Francine and Steven as soon as possible.

Right about now, I could speak to you at great length about the importance of Peter, an African-American character played aptly by Ken Foree. Though Foree is best known nowadays for cameos in numerous horror films (including this remake), he helped to redefine film schema by playing a black protagonist, as was common from George Romero at the time. Though he claims it was unintentional to cause such a splash in Night, Romero more than likely made Peter the strongest character in this movie as another subtext of the overall plot. Black or white, Peter is the most intelligent and relatable character in the whole movie.

As time passes, our heroes find themselves low on fuel and patience until they stumble upon a seemingly deserted shopping mall. Left with little options elsewhere, they decide to overtake the complex and stowaway until they can formulate a bigger plan (or until our fantastic government finally makes a breakthrough). While they do find serenity for a long while in the mall, all good things must come to an end, and they do. One by one, the characters find themselves in hardly favorable situations and motorcycle renegades, along with ever multiplying hoards of the living dead take back the city. Eventually, the surviving protagonists (which I will attempt to save so as not to spoil anything) must decide whether or not they should stay or seek their fortunes elsewhere.

Now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way, its time to understand just what makes this a different movie. Well, from the very start, Argento removes much of the playful banter and dialogue amongst characters in order to build a faster-paced, action-oriented flick. Character progression and background is sacrificed in short order for balls-to-the-wall action and suspense. In fact, by handling many of these situations in the film like this, any and all societal conflict that Romero intentionally wrote into his script has been erased. In its place is a movie that shoots from the hip at all times.

The movie is also bolstered (as most media is) by additional music from the band Goblin, and while this soundtrack is hailed to be one of the greatest of all time, it is often far too righteous for the events on the screen and can be overwhelming or even inappropriate in certain areas (not to mention it has dated horribly after 30 years). Gone is much of the dark, cheeky humor that kept Dawn of the Dead at the top of the political food chain for its message and statement. In its place is, well, really nothing replaced those elements of the story. There are a few extra scenes of gore (that were not passable in the US) that help to showcase what a master magician Tom Savini is, but nothing concrete past that.

Perhaps the most glaring evidence of these omissions from the film occurs after it is all over. Rather than see the US ending, in which the zombies skitter about the mall to the hilariously understated song “The Gonk,” we get nothing but a black screen with blaring rock music and the closing credits. What a jip.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: Though its hard to pick just one name out of the hat for such a masterpiece, the winner, without a doubt, is the editor of this version, Dario Argento. Several times writer and director George A. Romero stated that he believed Argento just “didn’t get” the concept of the movie, hence all of the re-cuts that eliminated any message the film was trying to send other than “here ya go, zombies eat people’s insides. Much fun.”

Best Name in the Cast: Not only was Tom Savini the incredible wizard behind makeup and special effects, he also managed to cast himself as a machete-wielding biker on a tear to make the civilian’s (most notably Peter’s) lives a living hell. And hey, if that isn’t enough supremacy for you, he even reappears over 20 years later in Land of the Dead as the same guy!

Quote of the Film:

“This isn't the Republicans versus the Democrats, where we're in a hole economically or... or we're in another war. This is more crucial than that. This is down to the line, folks, this is down to the line. There can be no more divisions among the living!” -Dr. Millard Rausch, establishing a fundamental assessment that everyone can certainly understand. Though this line was on the cutting room floor in different versions, it holds too much pertinence for me to look away.

Final Thoughts: When Dawn of the Dead came out it was a masterpiece of modern horror and managed to stand the test of time years later. It was revolutionary to American cinema from both a filmmaking and a film watching perspective. However, when Zombi: Dawn of the Dead was released to the international market, it created a completely different kind of revolution. Up until its release, European horror directors, particularly those in Italy, were virtually unaware of the zombie genre and would never stab at a quick buck for one of these films. Though it broke the mold for European horror as well, this “re-imaging” of Dawn served as an unattainable prototype for years to come as wave after wave of terrible Italian horror schlock followed its release. Nobody ever came close to recapturing the original charm or action of Dawn, but damn it all to hell if that didn’t stop them from trying year after year. In the future, I’ll be discussing several of these European flicks for their downright awfulness, and its all because they were created by students of the game who admired what they saw in Zombi: Dawn of the Dead, even if what they saw was a complete misinterpretation. So for all you film students out there now, think twice (or three times) before you get on your soapboxes and act as almighty priests. You may want to be a household name, but so is shit, and it stinks when you don’t flush it either.
B.B.

Sleepaway Camp II: Unhappy Campers (1988)

2008-09-26T00:08:00.000-07:00

Sleepaway Camp II: Unhappy Campers (1988)

Written By: Fritz Gordon

Directed By: Michael A. Simpson

Starring: Pamela Springsteen, Renee Estevez, Brian Patrick Clarke, Walter Gotell

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
In the brief time that has passed since my review of the original Sleepaway Camp, the movie has grown on me rapidly and given me a far different perspective of the genre it was infringing on upon its creation. Sleepaway Camp is, mind the pun, “campy,” and serves as great horror schlock that allows for you and yours to create your own serious of hilarious in-jokes. Right now, I could peer at a complete stranger, and then, upon examination, turn back to my friends and simply say “man, oh man!” Within moments they would connect that to Sleepaway Camp and understand I was referring to the size of that stranger’s breasts. Fun, huh?

When the time finally came to sit down and watch Sleepaway Camp II: Unhappy Campers, expectations ran much higher than they had for the first film. And even though the sequel can’t compare to the original in any form whatsoever, it maintains a lot of the spirit of the original film throughout its horrible acting, bad dialogue, and questionable “camp” experience. I have never been so thankful to have missed out on summer camp as I was when I watch these movies.

A little history lesson to set the scene: Angela Baker is now something of legend and Camp Arawak is long forgotten. If you’re unfamiliar with all of this, brush up by reading the original review. Anyway, we’ve reconvened at Camp Rolling Hills, where the story of Angela Baker has been passed around from person to person as a campfire tale. However, nobody seems to put the simplest of concepts together when their “letter-of-the-law” counselor Angela tells them to stop telling ghost stories. Yep, she’s the same one, but none of them are bright enough to solve the mystery.

In all fairness, that isn’t even the most mind-boggling storyline in the first 15 minutes. You see, the story seems to relay the message that despite killing dozens of people, Angela, then a minor, was sent to years of psychotherapy where she received a full-blown sex change (making her hoo-hoo dilly into a cha-cha) and was then released. Even OJ couldn’t have gotten away that easy, but I digress.

After setting all of these wonderful guidelines down for the innocent and often assumed moronic viewer, the film moves rapidly (just under 80 minutes) with Angela offing each camper for their various indiscretions, all the time maintaining that they violated some sort of camp rule and had to promptly be sent home. This is the film’s strongest point, and probably only strong point thus far. One of the most redeeming factors of the Sleepaway Camp series is the innovative and often uncomfortable methods of murder. Whereas characters met their demise with curling irons and beehives in movie one, movie two executes the use of a power drill, barbecue grill, and, lest we forget, a port-o-potty. In one of the silliest and by far worst scenes in slasher history, Angela stuffs a female camper into the inner sanctum of defecation and begins to prod at her until she is consumed by gallons and gallons of shit. Often times, I have stopped in these reviews by concepts I find to be stifling in their nature, but even I don’t know how to explain what the writer, director, and actors were thinking when they determined that this sequence, in total a good 5 minutes, needed to be kept in the film. Sometimes, I wish Angela would just use a machete to give a sense of tradition.

The other all-powering factor of this series is that few, if any of the main characters are redeeming. You really, really want Angela to win by film’s end. Sure, there’s a romance blooming between two characters who we could almost root for and our muscle-crotch counselor has been replaced by a mullet-sporting douche bag, but beyond those characters, the rest are faceless drones who occasionally flash some tits or ogle some tits. The first film had zero incidences of nudity. This one had at least twelve. It just goes to show that the ability of sequels to match their predecessors often fall on deaf ears when they fall backwards on old staples like exposed bosoms.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: Now would be a very good time to blame Stan Wakefield, Jerry Silva, and Michael A. Simpson, the executive producer and producers, respectively, for presenting this movie as a “fun” horror film. If you’ve watched any of the trailers for Sleepaway Camp II: Unhappy Campers, you’re well aware that all of the serious tone of the original has been removed in order to give it the sleek new look of the 1980’s, complete with nudity (again) and upbeat synth-pop. I wonder why the original creators of Sleepaway Camp refuse to acknowledge this in their canon.

Best Name in the Cast: I’ve never had a harder choice in this department, but when both Emilio Estevez’s sister and Bruce Springsteen’s sister star in one movie, you know you’ve got a real noodle-scratcher. In an effort to be objective, the nod goes to Pamela Springsteen, who did one other film of note after this one: Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland. Oh yes, its coming soon.

Quote of the Film:

“Listen, you don't have AIDS or anything, do you?” -Ally, the titanic twat after sex with an underdeveloped young man. Mother fucking genius.

Final Thoughts: While scoping out films in my local DVD store, I stumbled across a copy of the aforementioned Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland, and I was giddy to watch. Why? Because even though these films range from moderate to atrocious, they are all incredibly entertaining and hold enough esteem in the dignity department to keep me interested. That, and there’s only three of them. It’s not like I’m buying 11 films about a hockey-mask wearing monster. Just three about a trans-gendered hotness with a hard-on for killing.
B.B.

Mortal Kombat: Annihilation (1997)

2008-09-19T23:46:00.000-07:00

Mortal Kombat: Annihilation (1997)

Written By: Brent V. Friedman & Bryce Zabel (Screenplay), John Tobias & Ed Boon (Characters)

Directed By: John R. Leonetti

Starring: Robin Shou, Talisa Soto, Irina Pantaeva, James Remar

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
Mortal Kombat: Annihilation sucks out loud. I feel it is only necessary to explain in the very first paragraph of this entire review that this sequel to a video game movie is one of the worst examples of film making in history. The acting is terrible, the stunts are pretty awful, and just the general filmmaking techniques are stale, repetitive, and, to be honest, fucking nauseating. If this movie were a baby, the mother would have aborted it long before the birthing process began. All this aside (and that’s a lot to put aside), Mortal Kombat: Annihilation is still highly entertaining due mostly to its incredible awfulness.

The film picks up where the first one left off, but this time, the majority of the cast (save for Robin Shou and Talisa Soto) has been recast in an effort to cut costs. Make a note of that, it won’t be the first cost cutting measure we experience. Hitting the ground running, MK:A makes quick work of Johnny Cage as the movie’s first casualty while his friends literally stand by and watch the newly re-uh, reincarnated (?) Emperor Shao Kahn reign down hellfire and brimstone upon Earth. As Raiden (now James Remar) rapidly explains (and again, I do mean rapidly, this plot moves faster than the bowels of Professor Farnsworth), the realms are merging despite Liu Kang’s victory in the tournament in the first film. I state this now for future reference: in order to even halfway understand this clusterfuck, you will have had to watch the first Mortal Kombat.

The following 90 minutes that you, me, and every other hapless sap watching this movie are spent questioning exactly why we watch in the first place. For the second time in as many movies, we utilize a rapid transit wormhole to get around from realm to realm, which officially makes this my second bowel movement joke in as many graphs. I may want to consider slowing down. God damn it, I miss Goro.

Shao Kahn’s reemergence is seen as a major threat by the Elder Gods, even though his father and former Elder Shinnok has helped him rebuild his empire. Kahn (whose costume is way off from the game mind you, Kahn was never a baldy), plans to take down all of the human fighters, and he’s using Sindel, Kitana’s mother, to do it. Seems simple enough. On his side are generals and extermination squads, each of which is led by another familiar MK character. Why look: Motaro, Sheeva, Ermac, and yes, Rain all help to pioneer this hostile takeover. Too bad Kahn is merciless, as Rain lasts all of three lines before Kahn hammers him into a fiery pit of despair.

Meanwhile, back in, uh, some realm, Liu Kang is searching for Nightwolf to channel his “Animality” so he can fight Kahn and his armies and reacquire Kitana (who was captured by Scorpion after a battle with Sub-Zero and cyber-ninja Smoke), and of course, save the world. Liu is intercepted by Jade, a traitorous ninja out for trouble. However, she is of some use when Liu meets back up with Raiden (now a mortal fighter), Sonya Blade, and Jax, all of whom had just escaped Mileena and another cyber-ninja, Cyrax.

Having trouble keeping up? Good. You should be completely lost by this point and you likely have also lost three-dozen brain cells in the process. The fact of the matter is this: Mortal Kombat: Annihilation sacrificed any shred of plot, dialogue, acting, and dignity it garnered in the first movie and instead overloaded the film with every character to that time and fight scenes that were often dull and repetitive. Stop me if I neglected to mention Baraka’s three minute fight, or the fact that Stryker and Kabal were killed before the movie started, making them so insignificant they don’t even get screen time. Even Noob Saibot has a walk on appearance (and unfortunately, he doesn’t do something characteristic of a real Noob).

Eventually, the “real” plot of the film becomes evident as Raiden professes teamwork and communication over strength and force. And hey, that’s pretty much how good defeats evil in this sequel. We learn that its all about teamwork, communication, and Liu Kang’s ability to transform into a giant, hideous dragon to take down the Emperor. I may have neglected to mention that, but if you’re like me, once you saw yet another poor special effect (only about number 3,578 to that point in the movie) you simply threw your remote in the air and waited for it to concuss this film out of your memory. Feel your Animality!

Member of the crew that should’ve been fired: How about the film editor, director of photography, producer, and anyone else involved with the final cut of this movie. In a sequence that best exemplifies why they sucked at their jobs so much, Rain is disposed of in a nasty fashion when Shao Kahn “hammers” him into a fire pit. Later in the film, Baraka, an ugly, clawed character finds himself falling off of a chain and into the same fire pit. Guess what? Despite huge differences in costuming and appearance, the same clip of this death is shown for both guys. Like anyone (read: everyone) would notice.

Best Name in the Cast: James Remar is definitely the best name in the cast, this despite his horrible portrayal of Raiden. Just once I wished he channeled the spirit of his long departed character in The Warriors and exclaimed at Liu Kang: “Dammit, Liu! You’re all acting like a bunch of faggots!”

Quote of the Film:

“SUCKERS!!!” -Scorpion, because, come on, it’s Scorpion.

Final Thoughts: How is it all entertaining? Well, within all of the fighting, plot holes, and continuity errors, this movie serves as a wonderful example of how NOT to make a cinematic masterpiece. Let it be a lesson to all you young up and comers out there that if you want to create something people will remember for years to come, make sure its for the right reasons. Thank God I’m a Mortal Kombat enthusiast, because if I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t be able to relay this message to you. I’d simply sit here, and review a movie that had way too many characters, errors, and CGI malfunctions. Oh wait, I just did that. Whoops.
B.B.

Leprechaun 4: In Space (1997)

2008-09-12T23:22:00.001-07:00

Leprechaun 4: In Space (1997)

Written By: Dennis Pratt

Directed By: Brian Trenchard-Smith

Starring: Brent Jasmer, Debbe Dunning, Wawrick Davis

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
Don’t even think twice about how this makes it into sequel month. I know you might be saying: “Well I never saw the first three Leprechaun films, so how will I know what’s going on?” Allow me to give you a little bit of advice: I DID see the first three Leprechaun movies, and I STILL don’t know what the fuck to make of Leprechaun 4: In Space, a movie so awful that it defies necessity for the first three films in this lackluster series about an evil little golden fiend.

Rather than waste your time (and mine, frankly) on explaining the legacy of the Leprechaun, I’m just going to get right down to it. The movie starts with (as John LaBarbera dubbed them) Space Marines on a search and destroy mission for the evil Leprechaun who has captured an alien princess while in search of his gold. The Space Marines are led Major Metal Head Hooker, whose sole purpose in this film, other than to have a metal plate where his brain should be, is to perform the most unintentional comic relief in any movie in this series. All these folks are trying to rescue the Princess Zarina, who is considering a marriage proposal from the Leprechaun given that he has money, and, as best we can tell, a steady job (killing and rhyming counts, right?). But, if I forgot to mention it, the Space Marines are also working for a lab scientist known as Dr. Mittenhand, whose first appearance in the film is as a disembodied head. He’s actually part robot as well (why is the future always about fucking robots) and he later turns into a giant spider. Any questions thus far? I didn’t think so.

Once the first of what is many showdowns occurs, the Marines score a victory and blow Leprechaun to bits. They take an indisposed Princess Zarina onboard their spacecraft for “further examination,” but not before one of the lunk-heads begins to urinate on Leprechaun’s body. Taking revenge (sort of), Leprechaun beams his life force into the Marine’s dick and doesn’t reappear until that Marine is going to get down and dirty, and he suffers death from, well, a Leprechaun emerging from his schlong. Now that has to be one of the worst ways to go: your penis sprouts a little man determined to kill you AND steal your wallet. Interesting role reversal considering most things that shoot out of cocks give life, not take it away.

It doesn’t take long for us to understand that the only compotent soldiers on this vessel are Sticks (Miguel A. Nunez, Jr. from The Return of the Living Dead), Staff Sergeant Brooks Malloy and his love interest, Dr. Tina Reeves. Luckily, love, among other things, are not allowed to blossom so freely as complete and utter mayhem ensue. Zarina is awaking from her slumber to find an equally seedy character at her side, as it appears that Dr. Mittenhand wants to use her scar tissue for its incredibly fast regenerating power. Did I not mention that before? That’s because it’s the first time it was mentioned in the film. You know, you’ve got 90 minutes, you could take time to explain things if you really wanted to.

Our cast spends most of the remainder of this movie finding new and interesting ways to get killed. One crew member has his radioactive suit slashed open in a radioactive waste area, leading to the world’s scariest flesh-eating bacteria killing you in less than 15 seconds. Another crew member attempts to negotiate with Leprechaun while he sings “Danny Boy.” His fate is underneath a giant Lego piece. Even the females are shown no mercy, as one is plunged to a death scene that would make Boris Karloff in The Ape (1940) blush. Life can’t get much worse for the majority of the characters in this movie, considering that they’re all bound to die in an often gruesome and comical fashion.

However, there are some characters in this movie that find themselves in a fate worse than death before, well, impending doom. I’ve already told you about Mittenhand’s astoundingly pointless transformation into Mittenspider, but I may not have told you about Metal Head’s reincarnation. When Zarina reunites with the Leprechaun as a deadly duo, she promises them a death sentence, which, on her home planet, is indicative of a showing of her fun bags. Soon after, Metal Head is reprogrammed to work for the despicable duo as a cross-dressing, nunchuck-wielding maniac with a penchant for disco dancing. Sometimes, I wish I could be this creative. I mean really, did someone throw darts at a board of concepts and determine to write it into the script.

Eventually (and I do mean very, very eventually), the three aforementioned characters and even Zarina unite against Leprechaun in an effort to stop the blasphemy and madness (and SPARTA) that he spreads. Their plan was to blow him up, but it backfires from the start as he becomes a huge, barely mobile menace. Luckily for them, he’s also comfortably near a blast hatch that sends him exploding into space. The final sequence of the movie shows a giant middle finger (pre-Mooninites) disrespecting the surviving Space Marines. Charming, really.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired:
Guy Siner, the incredibly disturbing mind behind the character Dr. Mittenhand (Mittenspider as well) has got to be performing for less dollars than he has hair on his head (read: he’s bald). Siner drifts from creepy to comical with an electrical range of 1.21 giga watts, and not once do we even care about his fate. In fact, I’d like nothing more than to sock him in his melon fucking head for being such a total and complete waste of reels.

Best Name in the Cast:
Like with all Leprechaun films, Warwick Davis might be the only reason we watch these steaming piles of manure. His soliloquies, rhyming, and general glee for playing such a bizarre, tiny little character with big aspirations would make any “little man” story seem like a giant undertaking. That, and he was an Ewok. Don’t fuck with the Ewoks.

Quote of the Film:

“And what part of her anatomy is she gonna kill me with?” -Sticks, in response to being handed an alien death sentence that involved the showing of breasts.

Final Thoughts:
Ridiculous. It’s the one word I’ve avoided using for this entire review, but that is exactly what this flick is. It is without a doubt one of the, if not the most ridiculous films in the history of cinema and may well be a collector’s item in any movie enthusiast’s collection. If you don’t believe me, let’s just review: we’ve got a leprechaun, space marines, a giant robotic scientist who morphs into a giant cyborg-spider, exploding dicks, a leprechaun-based safety video, flesh-eating bacteria so powerful that it reduces you to a bag of bones in less than 15 seconds, every sound effect from the Doom video game series, alien boobs, a cross-dressing metal-plated marine, and more jokes about dicks than the average dick joke loving human being can withstand. Even the name of the film, Leprechaun 4: In Space, makes me throw up my hands and say “What the fuck?” Was the colon necessary? Would anyone have thought the less of this movie if the “In Space” part was left out? Who will think of the children? Won’t somebody please think of the children!
B.B.

Night of the Demons 2 (1994)

2008-09-05T00:01:00.001-07:00

Night of the Demons 2 (1994)

Written By: Joe Augustyn

Directed By: Brian Trenchard-Smith

Starring: Bobby Jacoby, Amelia Kinkade, Zoe Trilling

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
For what its worth, I love Night of the Demons. The campy nature of the film mixed in with all of the 80’s horror schlock surrounding it made it something quite unique. It managed to avoid being the “same old shit” style of film, and instead created its own tier of film that had seemingly not been duplicated: until Night of the Demons 2 graced the silver screens. Written by Joe Augustyn yet again, the second installment in the Angela saga (do I have a fixation on the name Angela or what?) provides us with a great back story on the whole demonic house idea and also gives us a great body count with some terribly funny, if unintentional moments.

We pick up in a non-descript catholic coed school that happens to house numerous young (though they look about thirty), vivacious teens, all of which know far too much about the story of Hull House. This school, run by Father Bob and the world’s most awesome nun, Sister Gloria, is about to have a wonderful little school dance. Can you guess where this whole shindig is headed? I bet you could, given that this film seems to be following in the footsteps of the original perfectly. However, there is one glaring difference: our story now include Melissa, dubiously nicknamed Mouse, a girl at this wonderful private school for the troubled who just so happens to be Angela’s sister. She’s having nightmares, but given the kind of shit she puts up with during the day, I’d pray for awful fucking nightmares, too.

All of the kids, with very, very few, exceptions, are assholes. In fact, if you had to pick a protagonist, you’d be safe to stick with Mouse and damn the rest from the start. Perhaps only Sister Gloria, who, if I neglected to mention it, wields a yardstick like a broadsword, is as worthy of absolution in this peach of a plot. We have a couple of girls who clearly are better developed than most 18-year olds, plus a couple of guys who have subscriptions to Bigguns magazine. Then, if that’s not enough, there’s a nerdy little henchman who is way too into the idea of satanic ritual. If they ended the movie by blowing the fucking school up, they might be making a utilitarian decision.

Back to the movie, which, by this point, is about to breakout into total anarchy. Poindexter (actual name Perry) has decided to channel the spirit of Angela with a satanic ritual of his own, and sure enough, it works. And, sure enough, as if life wasn’t a bucket of shit already, they’re all going to party at Hull House, where, as you’re already well aware, Angela will be waiting for them. They’ll also be abducting Mouse to conduct some sick experiments. If anything, the biggest problem this movie has is being a carbon copy of Night of the Demons. Sure, Augustyn decided to write the sequel, but it looks like all he did was write in one extra character, change the setting, and apply the same premise. I could go on forever drawing comparisons, but hey, I’ve got bigger fish to fry, like actually giving you some character names.

So, here’s the deal: Bibi (redhead) and Johnny sneak of to do each other while Kurt and Terri also explore…uh…each other. Then there’s Shirley, who has recruited two seedy looking characters to help her begin a sacrificial service on Mouse. After a joke gone wrong, we’ve got a large enough body count to finally progress to the one part of this series of movies that make them truly worthwhile: the killing! Truth be told, as sick as that sounds, the murder sequences in this movie make it a truly awesome experience due to their unique, and often depraved execution. In one sequence, a tube of lipstick forms a very phallic little snake that crawls into one of the victims, and then, if that’s not bad enough, we have breasts that morph into skin-dissolving tyrants. That’s right, Possessed Demon Titties. One More Time: POSSESSED DEMON TITTIES! There is a reason these pictures have a cult following.

Anyway, the carnage has made its way out of Hull House and back to the catholic school where several new demons go on a rampage to decimate everyone, including schmucky Father Bob, who gets the big cheer of the evening for having finally been eliminated. Luckily, just when things look their worst, Sister Gloria returns to save the day! But, it’s not just Sister Gloria, it’s a Kung-Fu black belt version of Sister Gloria that comes with a decoy removable head and a lasso necklace! Seriously, this might be one of the most incredible nuns, if not THE most incredible nun in cinema history. Her fight sequences alone make Night of the Demons 2 a worthwhile experience.

One other thing of note before I wrap all this up, is the just plain underhanded use of sexual…ANYTHING in this movie. Demon jugs, a cock shaped, beef jerky looking lipstick demon, and even, yes, demon sex and demon masturbation. Smut films aren’t usually this obvious or, hell, this smutty. If at any point you feel like you’re watching soft core cinema, then you might be right. It looks like good ol’ Joe and the rest of the crew gave up during the writing process and settled for as many blunt instruments as they could fit into a small space (that’s what she said). Things just degenerate in the film from this point, showing the weakness of this sequel as compared to the original. You know how it ends, so I’ll just leave it at a dick joke for now.

Member of the Crew who should’ve been fired:
Without a doubt, the hype surrounding the character Shirley, and the actress playing her, Zoe Trilling, is just that: hype. Trilling fails at acting, dancing, speaking in one accent, and appearing even slightly youthful. I know I’m critical, but all I ever hear about is how Zoe Trilling stole the movie. I pose this question: Did you watch it?

Best Name in the Cast:
Christine Taylor, who, while playing uber-bitch Terri during this movie, went on to bigger and better things as a regular in several of the Frat Pack movies. Oh, and in case I forgot, she’s also been immortalized as Marcia Brady. Totally awesome.

Quote of the Film:

“A kiss is a sin when it is an upper persuasion for a lower invasion.” -Sister Gloria, Teacher of the Year.

Final Thoughts:
What do people really look for in sequels? Do they want to see something that is better, or exceeds the original? Or, more likely in the horror genre, are they looking for the same old song and dance with a new crew to mutilate? I’ll take the latter, and accept that while Night of the Demons 2 is just a more pornographic version of Night of the Demons, it still manages to deliver enough flat out stupidity to live up to the Angela-namesake. I’ve recently discovered that Night of the Demons is getting remade. To anyone thinking this is a good idea, I hope a tube of lipstick rapes you in your sleep while large melons singe off your eyebrows. Pleasant Dreams!
-B.B.

The Toxic Avenger (1985)

2008-08-29T22:01:00.001-07:00

The Toxic Avenger (1985)

Directed By: Michael Herz

Written By: Joe Ritter

Starring: Andree Maranda, Mitchell Cohen, Pat Ryan, Jr., Jennifer Babtist, Robert Prichard, Cindy Manion, Gary Schneider, Mark Torgl

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
Troma. No film company exemplifies an innate ability to reach cult status quite the way Troma does. During the 1970’s, a fledgling company started by Lloyd Kaufman and this film’s director, Michael Herz, began to churn out low-budget sex comedies that were…sophomoric at best. Granted, the term “sex comedy” really doesn’t lend itself well to upstanding, high society, but hey, that’s not the point.

When Troma broke into the 80’s, Kaufman and Herz began to move forward with their biggest story yet: a tale of a weakling pool boy who, thanks to a cruel prank, becomes a radioactive mutant monster capable of destroying evil and saving the small town of Tromaville! Introducing, in all its glory, The Toxic Avenger, a mid 80’s answer to the early superhero film, as well as a statement of dominance from a low-budget, big-aspiration movie company.

To set the record straight, The Toxic Avenger cannot be reviewed just like any old film. Sometimes, films with the “Troma Team Release” tag in front of them make an honest effort to be terrifying or serious. These films, particularly as it comes to cult status, find themselves buried in the lexicon of society. This movie is something that really symbolizes what Troma is all about: intentionally bad schlock, and damn proud of it. Whenever someone sets out to make a movie awful from the start, they realize that they’re providing the world with something truly charming even though it might be difficult to watch. So, because it served as the flagship film for Kaufman, Herz, and legions of bad movie fans, The Toxic Avenger deserves a different kind of review.

In simple terms, the story of Toxie is quite like a lot of other superheroes from the comic books. Here we have a lovable (okay, hideous) loser working the pools in the local establishment who can never catch a break. Young women borrowed from one of Russ Meyer’s dubious flicks (read: they have gigantic breasts) taunt Melvin mercilessly until one day, they, and their lunkhead boyfriends, decide that they want to play a practical joke on poor Melvin. Just as Melvin thinks he’s gonna get some action, he ends up being forced to make out with a lice-infested sheep. Life can’t get much worse for Melvin, until another accident sees him covered with toxic waste left arbitrarily out in the open. Soon, our pathetic pee wee finds himself undergoing huge genetic mutations, as he morphs into a 6-foot 4-inch general hell-bent on revenge.

Some of his first victims are smalltime crooks that die in grisly fashions. In fact, one of the calling cards of a Troma film (this being the ideal Troma film) is brutality in death. Never have I seen more characters have their heads explode, dissolve, or deteriorate to blobs in an instant, and I’m including the hundreds of “living impaired” films I’ve viewed. Anyway, as a way to rub out the criminal influx in his town, Melvin (now Toxie, though always referred to as Melvin) uses his trusty mop from his janitorial days to wipe out the enemy…literally! Think about this: a mop to the face could completely obliterate your template. Now that’s a fucking superpower! He’s equipped with sulfuric acid mops! Mr. Clean be bitchslapped.

Word begins to spread about Melvin’s antics as he continues to fight crime where the police force (crooked and corrupt cops, you know the drill) will not. Eventually, Melvin rescues a blind woman from a robbery at a local fast food restaurant. Let that sentence soak in, and you get the general obscurity we find in most every Troma film. Her name is Sara, and she moves in with Melvin at the city dump soon after the traumatizing (or is it Tromatizing) incident.

Meanwhile, the townspeople are split, some praising the monster’s heroic efforts, others lambasting him for interfering with their community as a horribly disfigured man. Sound familiar? That’s probably because through all of the bad acting, editing, directing, writing, and, well, anything else I left out (that includes you, costuming), this movie is a classic example of the superhero ideal. For every person who supports your aid, there is one to balance on the other end. It’s a realistic and tragic statement on the way people operate, but it fits perfectly for those interested in the whole “Good vs. Evil” mindset. Toxie is only so popular with the community, because if he were 100% over, then we wouldn’t need a movie. Conflict. It’s a beautiful thing.

We wander from scene to scene as often crime fighters do until Melvin/Toxie is finally absolved and accepted into the world that created him, and the narrator reveals the nickname (and subsequent title) The Toxic Avenger. Cue credits, and everyone goes home a winner.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: All of them. That’s the point of a Troma film. Every single member of the crew is in some way flawed and should face ten lashes, then walk the plank.

Best Name in the Cast: Marisa Tomei has a brief (about one second) cameo in this film long before she was ever discovered. Just another perk from the Troma legacy; truly films of the future!

Quote of the Film:

“Honest cops are all alike: A bunch of fucking faggots.” -Cigar Face, confidently believing he’s in the Dick Tracy universe.

Final Thoughts:
It’s too bad that most of the Tromatic Cinema following The Toxic Avenger (save for Class of Nuke ‘Em High) signaled the demise of the world’s first (and only) b-movie mainstream schlock purveyor. Sure, they still produce direct-to-video releases, but its not the same as the huge middle finger they gave Hollywood. After all, they take movies and make parodies just like we see today, the difference being that their spoofs are made like spoofs should be: low-grade, low-budget, with a heart of gold. After all the bullshit, “make a quick buck” flicks that come out every year (like say, Disaster Movie) we should at least be able to take solace in the fact that Troma had them beat long before, and with character, originality, and a mop-wielding super beast named Melvin. Sure, he would later come to be Toxie, but maybe a good Melvin is exactly what Hollywood’s unoriginal, untalented “fun bunch” needs.
-B.B.

Mortal Kombat (1995)

2008-08-22T00:01:00.000-07:00

Mortal Kombat (1995)

Directed By: Paul W.S. Anderson

Written By: Kevin Droney (Screenplay), Ed Boon & John Tobias (Characters)

Starring: Linden Ashby, Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa, Robin Shou, Bridgette Wilson, Talisa Soto, Christopher Lambert

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
More often than not, filmmakers are always in a position where they have this inane desire not to be creative; to do the most predictable and least complicated idea on their slate. Hell, most of the time, they don’t even provide the ideas, rather, they understand that they can simply adapt something terribly underdeveloped into box office bank. In the last 20 years, we’ve seen movies based on board games, children’s toys, and comic books, just to name a few. However, the one medium that always seemed most suited to having a big screen adaptation was video games. After all, most gamers will tell you that they play not just for the game, but for the experience of a masterfully crafted story that delves into a new, albeit unrealistic, element of society. So why, then, do we find that most video games transferred to the big screen never have the same ferocity they did when you were holding a controller? Mortal Kombat might just have the answers.

Here we have the idea to create a movie based upon one of the most graphic and controversial video games of its time, a game that, without the hype, is button-mashing mayhem loosely tied together by a story about ninjas. The game itself was a standard one-on-one fighter that had brutal fatalities and cool power moves, but also concealed a thin overall plot with mere paragraphs about each of the original 7 playable characters as well as the 2 big bosses. In short: it seemed to be a thin premise with which to make money on in theatres. What’s worse: Two years prior to the release, Super Mario Bros. was deemed a colossal flop at the box office for steering too far from its video game inspiration, and one year after that, Street Fighter (pretty much the same premise as MK) failed miserably. Doomed to fail? It probably should have been, but somewhere along the line, Mortal Kombat learned how to make itself a pretty lucrative franchise.

When you begin watching the film, you’re expecting to see aspects of the game incorporated pretty quickly. After all, you want some accuracy for your fictional basis, right? Sure enough, we get it, within about three seconds. That beautiful Mortal Kombat theme kicks in and we open on a flaming dragon emblem, followed by dark skies and an immediate fight. The fight, taking place between Shang Tsung, MK’s first resident bad guy, and Liu Kang’s brother is as one-sided as can be. Tsung quickly disposes of him, only for us to learn that it was a Liu Kang nightmare. Damn, I already know that Kang wants revenge and has motive to fight. Good way to get that out there.

30 seconds later, we’re transported to Hong Kong, where Sonya Blade and her partner Jax are mercenaries looking to take out a criminal named Kano, who just so happens to work for Shang Tsung. If you’ve played the games, you already understand one important factor of this film: its completely accurate. The game characters rarely had much story early on, so they only had one or two instinctual urges. Those urges are quickly being fulfilled as the movie progresses. From Hong Kong, we hit Los Angeles, where Johnny Cage is an action star trying to abandon a “fake” image. We know our main characters, each of which has reason enough to want to explore the tournament they have all been invited to compete in. Makes me wonder why Mortal Kombat isn’t an Olympic sport. I mean really, a gold medal for ripping your competitor’s spine out? Well worth the price of admission.

Eventually, all of our fighting protagonists (save for Jax, who is a complete pussy in this film) end up on a boat, traveling to an island for the competition. They are joined by Raiden, and challenged rapidly by Scorpion, Sub-Zero, and Shang Tsung. Both Tsung and Raiden act more as guardians throughout the battles rather than actual fighters, leaving their lower fighters to do the competing. Raiden explains, quite simply, that his good heroes must win the tournament. Sure, there’s a massive history lesson about the tournament, but it isn’t as important as the goal: win the tournament. At this point, only about 25-30 minutes into the film, we have completely explained what Mortal Kombat (game and movie) is all about. Now, all we have left to do is fight.

And, believe it or not, there is a lot of very well choreographed and unique fighting. Each battle is distinctly unique, and manages to incorporate traditional MK locales (like The Pit in the finale) and grapplers with the storyline. Sure, there are any number of fictional warriors that drop off faster than a red shirt, but there’s also a letter-perfect amount of characters that have, you know, purpose. All of the original MK characters are included, even the massive, four-armed Goro, who is a make-up and special effects marvel for 1995. Hell, even Reptile makes an appearance in his green-masked form to battle Liu Kang. In total, there are 10 MK 1 fighters in the movie and (if you include a special cameo by the Emperor at the end of the film) 3 from MK 2, so it keeps true to the origins of Kombat pretty closely.

This is not to say that this movie doesn’t deal with any number of flaws. I mean, first of all, we’re led to believe that all of these humans are completely copasetic with the idea of traveling to an undisclosed location on the map and compete in a tournament that could mean the end of your eternal flame. Did they sign a release waiver? How is this tournament not sponsored by Pepsi, MetLife, or Goodyear? What, no live TV coverage on ESPN?

As if our characters inability to show even the slightest sense of reason or logic isn’t bad enough, there is a great deal of mentions of parallel universes and alternate planes of reality. I am referring, of course, to the inclusion of an area known as “Outworld,” where the Emperor (Shao Kahn for all you nerds out there) resides and where chaos roams the streets. It is designed to be a polar opposite of the real world, yet has all the makings of any town on the verge of total chaos. After all, dilapidated buildings accompanied by streetwalkers and fire just don’t have that same “hell on earth” feel they once did. So how do you get to Outworld? Well, that’s easy. You simply step inside a giant wormhole until you are engulfed by something that appears to be silly putty until you are beamed (at the speed of light mind you) to a portal of another realm. Kiss my ass, reality, I can step into a giant blob, shoot through a gigantic intestine and into East Compton. What now?

However, if there is any problem in this movie that can’t be overlooked, its Goro’s death. Here we have a supposed 8-foot tall (more like 7, by the way), four-armed Shokan with the ability to rip apart any two-armed mortal. Despite this knowledge (and his age, hundreds of years by the time of this tournament), Goro moronically falls into trap after trap that Johnny Cage lays for him, including a nutcracker suite and a perilous plunge off of a cliff. How, after hundreds of dominant outings could you be this idiotic? Were you raised under power lines?

Once Goro is eliminated, Shang Tsung is left with few alternatives and time is running out. Considering you already know that this film had a sequel, our ending at least leaves us with something a little less inconclusive than the games would have. Oh yeah, and the world’s most obvious sequel setup sequence. I really can’t wait to tell you how bad Mortal Kombat: Annihilation was, because it made this decent (but not overwhelming) action flick look like an Academy Award Winner.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: If anyone, its Gregory McKinney, who plays Jax for about a cup of coffee in this movie. Yes, Jax Briggs returns in the sequel to this particular movie (review coming soon!), but he’s definitely not played by this butcher, who is incapable of not just human emotion, but ability to do anything but scream to Sonya. You’re are a large, black man who will eventually have steel arms. DO SOMETHING YOU CLOTZ!

Best Name in the Cast: Linden Ashby, better known as the show-stealing Johnny Cage. If you’ve ever had your doubts about the MK fighters not having any personality, then you clearly missed how Ashby portrays the perfect chauvinist capable of mass destruction with his fists, and, in real life, he’s actually trained in Tae Kwon Do and Karate.

Quote of the Film:

“A handful of people on a leaky boat are gonna save the world?” -Sonya Blade, summarizing our premise.

Final Thoughts:
This movie does a very smart job of executing what a Mortal Kombat film should be. Paul W.S. Anderson went on to write and direct for the Resident Evil franchise, thus making him huge bank for decent scripts, and while the writing and dialogue is shoddy in parts, they know better than to just leave you hanging in the general scope. Actually, MK feels more like a nod to Enter the Dragon than it does a freestanding film, given the obvious similarities in twists, fights, and settings. I would highly recommend watching them back to back if you want some good, generic kung-fu style action without all the deep, moral, and most importantly logical thinking, because in the end, this movie was based upon a video game. If its deep, moral, and logical, I’d rather shove the controller up someone’s ass than mash the buttons.
B.B.

Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things (1972)

2008-08-15T00:01:00.000-07:00

Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things (1972)

Written By: Benjamin “Bob” Clark

Directed By: Benjamin “Bob” Clark

Starring: Alan Ormsby, Jane Daly, Anya Ormsby, Jeffery Gillen, Paul Cronin, Valerie Mamches, Seth Sklarey

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
Lately, I’ve taken a new interest in discussing films that were made solely to capitalize off of a picture that “revolutionized” the industry. In the horror genre, there are a good 10-15 different flicks that can be deemed revolutionary. And, in the wake of their release and success, there are more than 9000 clones waiting to make a quick buck off of their success. The same can honestly be said for any genre of film. Just look at the last decade. When The Ring made it big domestically, producers scrambled to adapt as many horror films as they could from Japan. Even that style of filmmaking, adding different views, colors, and even length, to a film (thank you very much Gore Verbinsky) was the focal point of copycats nationwide. Look at the Saw franchise. Is gore more important than a thrills and spills? How about the world outside of horror? I mean, The Watchmen is supposedly a novel that can’t possibly be filmed…or at least that was the theory ten years ago. You know, before X-Men and Spider-Man made a huge impact.

So what does it all mean? Well, when dealing with a picture like Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things, you have to recognize that this zombie-esque satire was made just a few years after the monumental Night of the Living Dead, and, in recognizing this, you need to know that the only thing that can save it from being just another clone is a different and unique approach. Enter Benjamin “Bob” Clark, our writer and director. When he created this cinematic gem, little did we know what was on the horizon, but I’ll get to all of that a little later. For now, let’s just sit back and enjoy (or valiantly attempt to enjoy) Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things.

Open on the most incoherent man on Earth who, not surprisingly, gets eaten. Cue green slime opening credits. Already I know that I’m watching a film that would’ve played during an Unrated MST3K. The majority of the beginning of this movie is really hard to watch. There’s a lot of characters shuffling about, moving things around in an all-too-boring fashion, and if all that wasn’t nauseating enough, we have to listen to the inner sounds of the small intestine as our soundtrack. Luckily, we’re broken out of our deliberate coma by a foghorn, and more dark visuals. After roughly five minutes of this nonsense, we get our plot, setting, and characters in all of thirty seconds.

Alan, the leader of the pack, sports a killer Van Dyke and plans to dig up a dead body in a secluded graveyard next to a cottage. Alan’s a director of a small theatre group, and also, a gigantically homosexual pervert. Even though he hits on his newest acting member, Valerie, he’s still a flaming bag of asses. Alan leads his group of “children” through the dark woods and to the graveyard for this insidious, if not entirely unexplained, plot. The score of the film hasn’t improved any from scene to scene. Is this the woods, or fucking Jurassic Park? By the way, it might be important to note that every character is playing themselves. That’s right, the names haven’t been changed to protect the innocent. Rather, they remained the same to confound the imaginative. But hey, Writer Bob Clark was just spreading his wings with this hunk-o-junk.

After fifteen minutes (no joke, fifteen!) of walking through the world’s lamest ambiance while Alan narcissistically fellates himself, we finally make it to the cottage/dig site. I want to let it be known that I’m bored out of my mind right now. If this was intense and thrilling in 1972, then somebody should repeatedly fist 1972 until they find it’s spine. Thus far, no character, especially not Uncle Alan Assclown, has made themselves socially redeemable. What keeps me watching is the hope (and pretty much guarantee) that they’ll all be eaten in the next hour. As of right now, all we have is children. Children who are actually well prepared for any “mishaps” that may occur during the night. Where are my dead things?

Turns out Alan is harboring a secret from his theatre troop. Looks like he wants to conduct a little satanic ritual on the dead rather than just grave rob them. How sentimental! Alan explains himself and his intentions so homosexually that he makes Liberache look like a womanizer. Soon enough, they dig up a corpse only to find that it is part of a cruel trick Alan has masterfully crafted. What a douche this guy is. Alan planted his other cohorts in full zombie garb to scare his friends, and apparently it works. FIVE times good ol’ fat man Jeffery announces that he peed his pants. Does he want a bronze medal for pissing himself?

Anyway, even through all of the practical jokes, Alan actually has a real corpse to perform satanic experiments on. Why do people follow this guy? I mean really, what the fuck? Okay, I’ll try and go beyond all this stupidity, and back to the story. Alan’s best efforts to invoke Satan have failed, and now, he’s cursing the very thing he just embraced as we still lack any moving corpses. Instead, we have dissention in the ranks as the children call Alan out on his douchebaggery. Luckily, we have satirical summoning of the dead as well in an attempt to patronize Alan the Impetuous. Eventually, we learn that the gang has taken “Orville,” their corpse of reality back to the cabin where they can defile it in many ways non-sexual. Rule 1 of Zombie Movies: Don’t desecrate the dead. They hate that.

During these sequences, the film actually shows flashes of brilliance. We’ve spent an inordinate amount of time up until this point waiting for something good, and we finally get it with strong dialogue amongst the characters and some genuine chills from the impending doom in the graveyard. Yes, while it was poorly executed for most of the film, it looks like we might finally shatter through the glass ceiling if only we could get to the point in the express lane. Sadly, by the time it all comes to a boiling point, the intrigue has faded away. The Evil Dead is vaguely similar in these scenes, but the difference was that the doom hit early and hit often. Here, the doom is as lifeless and stiff as Orville.

Face it, you know what happens from this point on. The dead come back (finally) and take down the living one by one. Problem is, we simply don’t care. We only really want to see what becomes of King Alan the Douche, so the rest is all window dressing and high frequency noises. Thank God for a (if not all too predictable) payoff.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: The Sound/Music editor on the film needs to be killed. His use of EVERY STOCK SOUND IN THE UNIVERSE makes me wonder: did he inherit a soundboard for his birthday and then fall asleep on top of its keys? An owl hoot has never been and will never be scary. NEVER. Bank on it.

Best Name in the Cast: Jane Daley, who plays Terry, and by that logic, is the only main character that DOES NOT play herself. What, did they cast someone named Terry (like Terry Bollea) in the roll and then have a last minute replacement? And we were too lazy to go along with our already lazy theme?

Quote of the Film:

“I’d whistle past the graveyard by my lips are afraid to be separated.” -Jeffery, ever the comedian.

Final Thoughts: Through the majority of this satirical “masterpiece” made to capitalize on a true cinematic achievement, Bob Clark buried himself worse than he buried his bland, comatose cast. Clark didn’t achieve much in this film well, but he showed signs of potential in his script writing and humor. He understood what it took to make something entertaining and funny, but he hadn’t a clue how to do it properly. That’s why Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things serves as another copycat to the George Romero lineage. Luckily, there was still hope for Bob Clark. He may have started as the apprentice, but he soon became the master. Following his work here, he went on to create the film adaptation for A Christmas Story, and then, he created his own revolution: the teen sex comedy Porky’s. Not a bad way to make a living after he helped to set new standards for sub-par schlock. After all that, you’ve got to figure that Bob had a good laugh over the fact that there were dozens of people trying to do with Porky’s exactly what he had tried to do with this picture. The moral of the story is the same here as it was in Children, in that sometimes you have to wait a long, long time to get to the good stuff, but when you do, the payoff makes you realize why you started in the first place.
B.B.

Sleepaway Camp (1983)

2008-08-08T16:02:00.000-07:00

Sleepaway Camp (1983)

Written By: Robert Hiltzik

Directed By: Robert Hiltzik

Starring: Mike Kellin, Katherine Kamhi, Paul DeAngelo, Jonathan Tierston, Felissa Rose, Christopher Collet, Karen Fields

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
I make a point of watching the original, theatrical trailer for any movie before I watch and review it. If you’re scratching your head and asking why, my answer is simple: I do it so I can get into the minds of the producers and find out what kind of message their film was supposed to send. After all, I’m sure you can name several movies that you wanted to see simply because they had an awesome preview at your local cinema, and then, those movies delivered the pound-for-pound adrenaline you desired. Of course, there is the other side of the coin, which, if I’m not mistaken, is the side that allows you to believe that cinematic garbage is entirely viewable thanks to the trailer that provided as an accompaniment. The trailer for 1983’s Sleepaway Camp might just have been the most straightforward trailer in the history of cinema.

“Welcome to Sleepaway Camp. Someone is watching you.” Two sentences, which, by themselves mean nothing, but together, send the exact message you would expect from a film created solely to capitalize off of the Friday the 13th phenomena. As we gear up for a remake of Friday the 13th in 2009 and even more from this series, why don’t we look at an equally shocking film that provides a swerve on par with Vader as Luke’s father. Ladies and gentlemen (or, rather, gentlemen playing ladies if you’ve ever seen the film), I present to you: Sleepaway Camp.

Anyone attempting to defend this film for not being a rip-off of the hugely successful Voorhees lineage will find themselves guilty of buffoonery and will be sentenced to watch this film over and over again until they admit to all of the all-to-convenient similarities. First off, we start this flick with, get this, a dramatic score and a look at a dreary camp circled around a large, open lake. Welcome to Camp Arawak: a tarnished spot of land that holds up an ominous “For Sale” sign. Any of this sound familiar? We’re 4 minutes into the film and already I’m praying for a hockey mask and a machete. God I’m sick.

Once the “acting” actually begins in the film, I pray even harder for someone, anyone really, to murder both the kids and adults on the screen. Luckily, I don’t have to wait long, as a freak accident on the lake leaves one man dead and several children traumatized. Lame, but effective for the 80’s. Cue the 8 YEARS LATER graphic and the most terrifying woman in the whole movie: A Mother! She’s sending her kid, Richard and his cousin, Angela off to camp for the summer. This woman is seriously troubled, and I don’t mean in a she’s-going-to-chop-you-to-bits way. I mean in a she’s-just-a-fucking-lunatic-who-we-are-meant-to-think-is-the-killer way. She’s actually a vital participant in the plot who doesn’t show up until we need to tie up the loose ends. She claims to be a doctor, too. Did she give herself a lobotomy?

Anyway, off of that tangent and onto the good stuff. And boy, is it good stuff. Once we get to the camp, we’ve got your standard issue incompetence running the joint, complete with a straw-chewing pedophile that just reeks. Soon, we learn that Richard, or Ricky, is quite the friendly type and his friends are exactly what you’d expect from 14-year old boys: perverts. Angela, however, is quiet. She says nothing at all; she just watches her feet. Moving on, Ricky runs into Judy, a newly stacked bitch of a teenager. She’ll be dead in 30 minutes. Bet on it.

While in the girls cabin, we get an introduction to several more “prosti-tots,” all of whom are deeply disturbed by Angela’s code of silence. Ronnie, the male camp counselor whose dick is way too close to popping out through his short shorts (thank God this isn’t high definition), wants to take care of her and get her comfortable. Luckily for Angela, she ends up with PedoMan who attempts to give her his hotdog. He gets caught by Ricky, and everything becomes real awkward. Guess who is about to bite it? That’s right, PedoMan soon gets dumped into an obnoxiously large pot of boiling water. Gruesome, sure, but we don’t know who did it because it was all filmed in first person view. You know, just like Friday the 13th.

Through all of its problems, the film does have some upside, like the foul-mouthed little fuckers on the baseball field. What’s the perfect response when someone says “Eat Shit and Die?” “Eat Shit and Live.” Or how about “Come on, take the bat off of your shoulder!” “Fuck You!” is the correct response. Really manly stuff considering all of these guys dress like they’re at the roller disco. Honestly, the underage swearing seems to save the movie from any number of other flaws it might have.

Back to Angela, who hasn’t said a thing to anyone yet, but she’s showing interest in Paul, Ricky’s only friend who is not a dickface. In fact, her first word spoken on screen was to Paul. Romance is in the air, so place a bet on Paul getting massacred, too. This is a horror film, romance has no place unless it is smutty. Speaking of smut, skinny dipping and other shenanigans are running roughshod over the camp at night. And murder. You know, just like Friday the 13th.

The difference between this and that Jason-related series seems to be direction. This film just kind of ambles in no particular direction for a long, long time. There certainly aren’t many moments we’re supposed to scream at, and I don’t just say that because of the desensitization of our culture. I say it because literally, there isn’t a god damn thing that could shock you…that is…until you reach the end.

This film is based on one thing, and one thing only: a twist ending. You spend 80 minutes questioning why your summer camp wasn’t this eventful, and then, suddenly, you’re hit with a real swerve. Sure, you’re lead to believe several people could be the killer, but only one person really fits the bill for the motive: Angela. So if it comes as no surprise, then what’s the twist? That’s easy: Angela is a guy. You know, just like Friday the 13th. Wait…what? I know, I spoiled it for you. But, to be fair, it really serves as one of those moments when you throw your hands up and question why it mattered. She wasn’t allowed to just kill people; so she had to have a dick, too? I guess if Jason had a vagina, that’d be shocking, too. Maybe I just missed the part where a girl with a penis was more terrifying than a lackluster body count.

Member of the crew who should’ve been fired: Writer/Director/Executive Producer Robert Hiltzik, who can only claim that his name would be worth a shitload of points in Scrabble. His directing of the actors was terrible, he wrote a script that borrowed over 9000 elements from a much more successful camp slasher, and then, in a stroke of brilliance, he packaged the film as horror. It’s not really a horror film. It doesn’t make you jump out of your seat. You just watch, and get a little grossed out by the special effects. We got lucky that he didn’t do those, otherwise we’d be watching a chocolate syrup masterpiece.

Best Name in the Cast: It would be impossible to overlook Karen Fields for her incredible job as Judy in this film. Seriously, she plays the world’s best tease/bitch character and no matter what you think of the film, you’re happy to see her get hers in the end. That, and her death scene is one of a kind, and will make anyone, man or woman, quiver at the sight of it. She had such potential, but then, disappeared in a flash soon after. Tragic.

Quote of the Film:

“She’s a real carpenter’s dream: flat as a board and in need of a screw!” -Judy, antagonizing Angela about puberty, and the lack there of.

Final Thoughts:
We know full well that this film has gore, a terrifying background for Angela (one of her two dads, yeah two dads, was the first guy killed in the movie), and enough sexual angst to make Anthony Michael Hall blush. But what it lacks is creativity, and that’s saying a plethora considering that the whole transgender murderer thing was new at the time. I’ve seen it all before, in a movie that was ten times better and also had Kevin Bacon in it. Hell, there’s even an infamous drowning child scene. But such was life in 1983, because Sleepaway Camp was successful, if only for chicks with dicks. Everyone could disregard what a blatant knockoff it was because the end was completely new. You wonder why they remake every standard setting horror film nowadays? Sleepaway Camp makes it possible, proving that if you tweak something ever so slightly, it seems altogether fresh. That, and adding penises automatically equal a bigger box office gate.
-B.B.

Night of the Demons (1988)

2008-08-01T19:52:00.000-07:00

Night of the Demons (1988)

Written By: Joe Augustyn

Directed By: Kevin S. Tenney

Starring: William Gallo, Hal Havins, Mimi Kinkade, Cathy Podewell, Linnea Quigley, Alvin Alexis, Lance Fenton

Country of Origin: United States of America

The Idea:
At some point in the 1980’s horror cinema took a turn for the worst in regards to thrills, chills, and spills. What was once a terrifying experience with greasy, buttered fingers at the multiplex had become an experiment in schlock film that left many audiences lukewarm rather than boiling. This concept, known as “camp,” gave fans of mainstream movies something valid to bitch about: The amount of B-Grade bullshit skewing the line between the good, the bad, and the ugly. The following film is the essential example of camp, and speaks to the core of what an excellent campy film can be.

My first exposure to Night of the Demons came when I was only eight years old. My parents, bless their hearts, had me watch clips of this film following what was our feature presentation of the evening, Friday the 13th Part 4. After that less than humbling experience, I remember being scared out of my skull by the images of this picture. So it should come to no surprise then, that I avoided the flick until high school and never spoke of it again.

When Night of the Demons made its way to the silver screen, it was seen as hokey and often had far too many errors within the characters to really produce strongly for 90 minutes. It also found reviewers complaining about the lack of lighting or direction in many season, often being cited as a hard watch based simply upon the motor skill of visibility. Now while these gripes are not without merit, it leads me to believe that most reviewers overlooked everything that this perennial underdog stands for.

The plot is simplistic and unoriginal. Teenagers looking for a great party find themselves headed to Angela’s bright idea, the abandoned and awfully creepy Hull House. For absolutely no reason whatsoever, I’d like to take this time to tell you that Hull House has a large wall built all the way around it with an underground stream beneath the wall. These are important plot details, for sure, but they also make me want to take the architect out to a nice dinner followed by a swift clubbing to the head with a 9-iron. Angela, portrayed smashingly by up and coming scream queen Amelia “Mimi” Kinkade, has lead her friends to Hull House in an attempt to have as good a time as any teens could be expected to have on Halloween Night. For you see, the film never skips on sending us the message that these events occur on Halloween, with several references to the silly old superstition that the Gates of Hell have opened for one night, and one night only. You have no idea what a tangent I could go off on in trying to explain the whole Horror Movie “Gates of Hell” Theory, so best leave the idea at that.

Anyway, this crew of misfits isn’t short on stereotypical horror movie protagonists. Oh no, we’ve got the token black guy and traditional jock-hole represented, as well as a vast array of races in our promiscuous girls and even one member of Christianity for good measure. Guess who lives? Moving on, we are led to believe that Angela has summoned the restless spirits that live within Hull House’s once bloody walls for massive havoc. All of it, and I mean literally all of it, is transmitted through a singular tube of lipstick. Don’t worry, this is also a reoccurring theme for the Night of the Demons Saga, as the lipstick is a focal point of the fairly indistinguishable sequel.

However, in its greatest scene to date, the tube of lipstick finds a way to give us something great to talk about. Linnea Quigley, in an act of pure possession I’m sure, begins to decorate her entire upper half with the tube and then disposes of it in a manner most interesting. She seals the cap, and carefully, without hesitation, inserts the lipstick into her body through her nipple. I want you all to carefully reread that last sentence. Particularly the part about INSERTING LIPSTICK INTO HER NIPPLE. If that doesn’t make this movie $100 million nothing will.

Back on topic now, the body count rises (sort of) and so do the gratuitous tit shots. But hey, if you read the last paragraph you were very well aware of the use of boobs in this movie. Finally, after all the carnage has passed, we reprise with an elderly couple who hasn’t been seen but in a bit part at the beginning of the film. I bring this up because the ending is of completely no consequence without the rest of the film and chances are you would have missed it if you didn’t know it was there. The old man in the sequence mentioned in his early scene that he was going to be putting razor blades into apples and give them to children who were trick or treating. We have all heard this old legend, and time and time again, it never ceases to amaze me that people actually bought the idea. Still, the old man sits now stewing about the fact that he didn’t get rid of even one measly apple. His carefree wife joins him at the table and gives him his breakfast. It isn’t until he has taken about a half a dozen bites that he realize that she took those dangerous apples and made them into his breakfast. His throat is then slashed from within several times for having presumably swallowed many razor blades. Think about it. How the hell do you not notice sharp, jagged, metal slicing through your system? Are you Bart Simpson? This little bit of closure to the grand story is so devoid of intelligence that it has officially and completely invalidated the Theory of Relativity.

Member of the crew who should have been fired: Writer Joe Augustyn, who made the intelligent statement of the century by writing it in his script that these demons could close doors with great success, yet their opening prowess was less than worthy. Seriously, they can’t turn a fucking handle. Does becoming a demon automatically create a rift in the bare basics of hand/eye coordination? Did you even think about that when you penned this flick? Or the sequels? (Read: yes, there were two sequels, each of which had the same exact plot as their predecessor. Perhaps the writing wasn’t so bad after all.)

The EFF One-Line Synopsis: “Party turns ugly.”

Best Name in the Cast: Linnea Quigley. In the event you are wondering why this spacey blonde makes the cut, then you obviously don’t watch enough horror flicks. Quigley is a, no, strike that, the perennial Scream Queen of the 1980’s. She was already a Troma Team mainstay during this time period, making appearances in several Toxie-related schlock masterpieces. And if that wasn’t enough, Quigley was also well remembered for her role as Trash in Return of the Living Dead (1985), in which she is turned into a flesh-eating nuisance following a lengthy nude scene. And I mean entirely nude throughout 45 minutes of the film. Awesome.

Quote of the Film:

“Bodacious Boobs, Sis!” -Judy’s Little Brother, spying on his (facepalm) older sister.

Final Thoughts: This is by no means the world’s greatest horror flick, and it isn’t all that scary, either. Hell, I can’t even remember why it gave me chills when I was about eight years old, but perhaps that’s simply because I was eight. Still, despite its seemingly all-too-obvious flaws and foibles, this film is a piece of nostalgic horror schlock and a chapter in the book of B-Movie Paradise. If nothing else, watch the opening credits and the final five minutes to get the full effect of a simpler time in horror cinema. Why do most scary movies flop at the box office these days? Because they’re not allowed to be intentionally silly like this one was. And for that goofiness alone, Night of the Demons holds a bodacious place in my heart, likely right next to the lipstick.

-B.B.

Shock Treatment (1981)

2008-07-25T20:56:00.000-07:00

Shock Treatment (1981)

Written By: Richard O’Brien

Directed By: Jim Sharman

Starring: Cliff De Young, Jessica Harper, Patricia Quinn, Richard O’Brien, Charles Gray, Nell Campbell

Country of Origin: Great Britain

The Idea:
When The Rocky Horror Picture Show made its way to the United States in the 1970s it revolutionized the way people think about film. Not in a manner befitting a blockbuster or epic movie, but rather in a way that something could be a colossal critical flop and still be one of the most popular films of all time. Predating 70s musical juggernaut Saturday Night Fever, the flick became the pure, unadulterated definition of a cult movie and would garner more and more attention as a “classic” film as the years passed. It is an honor that films like Snakes on a Plane and Shaun of the Dead, among others, hope to someday achieve. That said, such a masterpiece of cinema would not be properly restored into the anoles of time without mention of the blemish on its record. For it just so happens that RHPS creator Richard O’Brien had been working on another brainchild in his spare time following the original, and had come up with a far lesser-known sequel to this film.

Shock Treatment, released in 1981, would follow in suit to the same lackluster reviews its predecessor had. But unlike RHPS, Shock Treatment seemed to be missing all of the staying power the original film had. Maybe it was because the likes of Barry Bostwick and Susan Sarandon had disappeared, and there was also no sign of show-stealing Tim Curry in the cast. Still, the film pressed on to a forgettable box office and even more forgettable video release. Hell, most people didn’t even know a sequel existed, and several are likely to learn of this knowledge for the first time just by reading this. For those of you wondering just what appeal, if any, Shock Treatment has, you are in for a stranger journey than you ever could have hoped for.

The events of Shock Treatment take place in the unusual aftermath of the first film, but this time, Brad and Janet are over their promiscuity (or so we are led to believe) and are now married. They have returned to Denton, which has become a town driven entirely by a large television station that broadcasts nothing but the residents there. For you see, they are both the actors and the audience, attempting to package a product of “Mental Health” to the entire world. Imagine one giant mental institution that is also a television station posing as the state of Texas. Confused? It gets better. Now why any town, much less this hellhole, would want to become one big TV Station is anyone’s guess, but hey, no one said plots were simple. The town is run by a seedy character named Farley Flavors, who, if I’m not mistaken, begins convulsing in an orgasmic fashion at the mere sight of Janet. So, since the horny pit boss is in control of all the program on DTV (Denton Television, Mother Fucking Genius), he decides that Janet is his next big star, and Brad is, and I quote “an emotional cripple.” The film meanders from there into several non-sequitor scenes that are a mishmash of DTV programming and behind the scenes action. With an ensemble cast working most of the film, we are meant to feel compassion for Brad as he continues to be neglected by a now pig-headed Janet. As this cluster-fuck of a plot wanders aimlessly towards its climax, all we are left with is musical number after musical number.

Oh, did I neglect to mention the music? Richard O’Brien was hard at work again on a soundtrack that he hoped would rival the powerhouse of his first work. Instead, we are left with Rocky rehashes, as lyrics like “jump to the left” and “step to the right” are replaced by “rip, rip, rip” and “snip, snip, snip.” That’s right, O’Brien gave up entirely on writing and decided to instead develop a stuttering problem. If there was a budget for this low-grade production, it certainly didn’t go to O’Brien’s songwriting. Still, if a song was not directly influenced by Rocky, it would instead fit into a different sort of rehash. The overture to the film also provides the same simplistic chords for nearly half of the music in the film. And after a while, it gets real fucking old. Kind of like how Geddy Lee sings “Closer to the Heart,” because the first few times it feels nice and comforting, but after that, its just a castrated singer who annoys the piss out of you. Geddy Lee sucks, by the way, but that’s neither here nor there.

The movie finally comes to a close when the hero (that’s Brad in case you got lost during the viewing process, and odds are you did) returns triumphantly and Janet realizes what a self-absorbed, Paris Hilton she has become. The two reunite, and Farley Flavors, well, I don’t want to spoil everything for you, and frankly, I’m not sure what the fuck happened to him anyway.

Member of the crew who should have been fired: Richard O’Brien. Okay, so it isn’t so much that the music sucks, but he got really, really lazy when he began composing his new masterpiece. And that right there might be the problem. Rocky could survive on music alone, but Shock Treatment was taken out back and shot for its efforts.

The EFF (Encyclopedia of Fantastic Film) One-Line Synopsis: “Couple trapped in TV studio that replaces real life.”

Best Name in the Cast: Jeremy Newson. Now, his name isn’t really funny or special, and it has absolutely no quirky alliteration. So why does he win the category? Because he plays Ralph Hapschatt, and despite all the returning members of the cast who play different roles, Newson is the only member to return from Rocky and play the same role! Kudos for his perseverance!

Quote of the Film:

"Alimony is just another word for rape." -Betty Hapschatt

Final Thoughts: For a film that is so abysmally bad, it has a huge upside. Richard O’Brien wrote and produced something that was an attempt to look at the real dark side of television. His satirical approach to TV was misunderstood in the 80’s, but if it were revived today it would flourish as pure fact. After all, Janet sells Brad down the river and has him committed on live TV. She puts her husband in the loony bin so she can become a bigger star. Looking at this world nowadays, where reality TV reigns supreme, such a concept is more commonplace than it is shocking. And for that alone, Shock Treatment is a film 25 years before its time, so maybe now it will finally receive the appreciation it deserves for its truthful and sarcastic delivery on an all too familiar facet of the media. Odds are against that happening, and quite frankly, so is the Motion Picture Academy.

-B.B.