Pretty slick little number here, a way low budget zombie voodoo potboiler filmed on the quick in Florida at the height of the early James Bond craze. Expect lots of palm trees, swept back wayfarer sunglasses, a big brassy orchestra with twangy guitars + bongo drums, boozy bimbos swooning by the pool, and some sort of novel mode of transportation, in this case an airplane that is destroyed in the movie's biggest laugh.
The film concerns itself with a swinging playboy writer who is dispatched to darkest Key West to get to the bottom of some wacky voodoo cult and meets a couple of decent looking dames between stops for cocktails. The natives use a powerful narcotic which transforms them into the living dead and explains the jungle being just a mess after all this time. The damndest thing is that Carey Grant would have felt right at home in this movie, even with the ping pong ball zombie monster makeup.
The movie is awful for sure but it works in some miraculous way, partly due to the fact that it was aware it was an awful movie employing awful actors, using awful cinematography, awful music, and awful script, etc. The good news is that everybody participating was apparently briefed before hand lest any sort of sweeping performances or actual cinematic artfulness sneak past the dime store tiki torches, wet bars, and matching salt + pepper shakers. Some good one liners though, I guess that's harmless enough to allow without tempting anybody to take it too seriously. Then again with a title like that, who can?
It's kitsch, bounding with energy and some decent smarmy humor that will either get on your nerves or catch you with a belly laugh when you aren't expecting one. I like another reader's comment when writing that they had enjoyed this film more than the three A list big budget event films they rented at a Blockbuster: PRECISELY! Yes, that's the spirit! They were able to relax and just watch this god awful no-name movie for what it was -- rather than being primed to have the world saved or the universe explained by Leonardo di Caprio -- and ended up having a pretty good time. Caught them by surprise probably. You can buy it on DVD for a dollar, probably less, and keep it for your very own. Try it.
4/10
The film concerns itself with a swinging playboy writer who is dispatched to darkest Key West to get to the bottom of some wacky voodoo cult and meets a couple of decent looking dames between stops for cocktails. The natives use a powerful narcotic which transforms them into the living dead and explains the jungle being just a mess after all this time. The damndest thing is that Carey Grant would have felt right at home in this movie, even with the ping pong ball zombie monster makeup.
The movie is awful for sure but it works in some miraculous way, partly due to the fact that it was aware it was an awful movie employing awful actors, using awful cinematography, awful music, and awful script, etc. The good news is that everybody participating was apparently briefed before hand lest any sort of sweeping performances or actual cinematic artfulness sneak past the dime store tiki torches, wet bars, and matching salt + pepper shakers. Some good one liners though, I guess that's harmless enough to allow without tempting anybody to take it too seriously. Then again with a title like that, who can?
It's kitsch, bounding with energy and some decent smarmy humor that will either get on your nerves or catch you with a belly laugh when you aren't expecting one. I like another reader's comment when writing that they had enjoyed this film more than the three A list big budget event films they rented at a Blockbuster: PRECISELY! Yes, that's the spirit! They were able to relax and just watch this god awful no-name movie for what it was -- rather than being primed to have the world saved or the universe explained by Leonardo di Caprio -- and ended up having a pretty good time. Caught them by surprise probably. You can buy it on DVD for a dollar, probably less, and keep it for your very own. Try it.
4/10