Soultaker (1990)

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)

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)

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)

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)

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)

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)

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.