stmichaeldet Reviews

Bottom Feeder (2007)

Horrorshow Comfort Food

[7/10 · 7 April 2007]

Like most (heck, virtually all) mutant-monster films, Bottom Feeder doesn't bring anything new to the table, but, thanks to some decent acting, good chemistry, and plenty of monster cheese, it's quite an enjoyable romp. The plot follows a team of maintenance workers who run afoul of a crazy, burn-scarred billionaire's attempt to test an experimental super-healing serum, which of course creates a man-eating Rat Monster, as such ill-advised experiments invariably do. We're then treated to a three-way dungeon crawl involving the workers, the billionaire and his bodyguards, and a guy in a rubber suit. Very old-school, but still lots of fun.

Best of all are the scenes between the head of the maintenance team, Vince (Tom Sizemore), and the billionaire's nasty henchwoman, Krendal (Wendy Anderson). They start as antagonists (she's working for the bad guys, after all), but after she throws in with our heroes in order to escape the monster, she becomes much more appealing, to the point where she and Vince seem to be flirting by the end of the film. And the bit where Vince grabs her cell phone to chew out the Burned Billionaire is just priceless.

It's not Shakespeare, but if you want to spend an evening with a good, old-fashioned monster flick, grab some popcorn, pull up a seat, and enjoy.

The Gravedancers (2006)

Schlocky Horrorfest

[2/10 · 7 April 2007]

The Gravedancers really, really wants to be a stylish, indie ghost flick, but despite hitting some of the required notes for a trendy horror film, it can't quite drag itself out of the low-budget schlock realm. If this turns out to be representative of the After Dark films, I'm gonna be kinda disappointed, since, because of all the hype I was expecting more, but at least I'll be set for a few months of cheap badfilm thrills.

Gravedancers is the story of three old friends who reunite at the funeral of the fourth member of their clique, and decide to visit his grave late that night to pay their last respects together, privately. Unfortunately, their idea of last respects involves unwittingly desecrating graves in the Psycho Section of the cemetery. (What, you didn't know that graveyards have special sections set aside for rapists, murderers, and crazy people? Well, apparently, they do.) The ghosts follow them home, and have until the next full moon to try to kill them in ways reflecting their bad habits in life.

What follows from this premise, sadly, is a parade of horror clichés ranging from slasher tropes from the '80s, like starting the film with some poor, nameless character who's killed before the credits, to overused modern gimmicks like sledgehammering the tone of scenes with a severely limited palette. (In this case, sepia is the color of choice for telegraphing "Be scared now" to the audience.) Add in a couple of heavily stereotyped ghost hunters ("Paranormal investigators!"), an old book with all the answers, a "Whew, everything's all right now" scene just before the climactic sequence, and a reappearance by a supposedly-dead character who saves the day, and you're looking at a compiled history of bad horror from the last thirty years or so.

On top of all that, the script contains large doses of dumb of the sort that makes you lose all respect for the characters involved. For instance, the ghost hunters get the bright idea that reburying the desecrated dead in new graves will stop the haunting. Reburying them in sacks, in shallow graves in unconsecrated ground, with only some lip service paid to proper burial ceremony. Yeah, that'll work.

All in all, not what I was expecting. If you're in the mood for a little cinemasochism, it's a fun ride with plenty to ridicule, but if you're looking for a "film to die for," this ain't it.

Satan's Playground (2006)

Satan: "Don't Look at Me, I Didn't Do It!"

[1/10 · 18 November 2006]

Wow.

I have to say, I've seen a lot of bad films in my time, but not many that can rival Satan's Playground. And, it's not a good kind of bad, either. More like the "shake your head sadly and pity everyone involved" kind of bad.

The plot is simply a basic, Texas Chainsaw ripoff. A group of people are stranded in the middle of nowhere and are killed one after another by a family of inbred mutant hicks. Of course, in TCM, the inbreds had to work a bit to take down their prey; in this movie, the victims are dim enough to walk straight up to the horror house one at a time, knock on the door, and ask to use the phone. One right after another, like clockwork. Oh, and there's a lurking monster - the Jersey Devil - thrown in to pick off the stragglers. Just don't expect JD to actually put in an on-camera appearance; that, apparently, was too much effort for this production.

But don't worry about the plot so much; most likely, you'll be too distracted by the atrocious casting to worry about it. Our victims, far as I can tell, are a family unit - Mom, Dad, Sis, Sis' baby, and Autistic Bro. Took forever to figure that out, though, since Dad looks about 45-50, Mom looks like she's in her late twenties, Sis looks about 30, while A-Bro is established at 18, and looks about 23. The baby, however, is convincingly infantile. Much like the rest of this flick. (Yeah, I know it's a cheap shot, but can you blame me?)

After you've wrapped your head around that, then you can marvel at how... busy the middle of nowhere is. As mentioned above, we've got four separate scenes of the principles wandering up to Casa Mutata, plus another, totally unrelated and irrelevant stranded woman pounding on the door (and basically being told to stand in line behind the rest of the movie if she wants killin'), random Satanists coming up on the weekend to perform unholy rites in the inbreds' front yard, a cop who seems to be patrolling in area (and doesn't bother to check out the stranded vehicle stuck not 20 yards from where he parked), and several cars driving up and down the backwoods dirt roads. One of which won't even slow down to help a fleeing victim.

Nothing hangs together, or even appears to be trying to make any sense. Even if you're a fan of the badfilm, I'd recommend you take a pass on this one.

Scream and Scream Again (1970)

The Curse of Ambition

[4/10 · 16 September 2006]

Scream and Scream Again seems to want to be a very deep and complicated film. After all, it starts out by presenting three different, and apparently unrelated, plot lines, introduces new characters seemingly at the writers whim through the run time, and seems to pride itself on a grim and "realistic" portrayal of violence and death (while still allowing itself plenty of latitude for shock sequences and super-powered antagonists). Does it all work? Well, not entirely, but I have to give it some credit for trying.

Let's start with the biggest problem I have with this film, the bait-and-switch billing. Price, Lee, and Cushing sit majestically at the top of the credits, yet get precious little screen time, virtually none of it shared. Price is a doctor/mad scientist introduced early on, and then forgotten until the film starts winding down, Cushing has one scene and then dies, and Lee isn't even introduced until late in the film, where he serves as a plot device to tie everything together and wrap up.

Then there's the whole three-plot lines thing. The bulk of the film follows a police inspector on the trail of a psychotic, blood drinking, super-strong serial killer. (Gee, could he be a vampire? Ummmm... well, no.) Alongside that we have the story of a spy for some unnamed, oppressive regime. The over-the-top tone of these scenes clashes with the more mannered presentation of the inspector's story. The costumes and sets suggest a combination of Stalinist Russia, Nazi Germany, and rampant Satanism. (Sure, the symbol displayed on armbands, banners, windows, and any other available surface is probably supposed to evoke the bundled arrows of fascism, but it looks more like the head of a demonic pitchfork to me.) Then we have a series of scenes about a man who collapses while out jogging, and finds himself in a hospital room, where he is kept sedated most of the time while his limbs are gradually stolen in off-camera surgeries. None of this seems connected in any way until the end, when the true plot is revealed, and turns out to be something not particularly suggested by anything in the film up to that point.

Theoretically, this movie could still have worked, and if they had pulled it off, it might have been quite clever. But, even beyond the mismatched feel of the three plot lines, there are other problems which make SaSA feel like several different films forced to share one screen. The inspector becomes irrelevant to his own plot once things get rolling, his leading-man status usurped by the young assistant coroner, who was no more than a minor player for the whole first half of the film. The psycho leaves a nightclub with his latest victim, just in time to go out for "one last drink," and is followed and eventually chased by the police... in broad daylight. Apparently, the bars in England close much earlier than I thought. Add in an unnecessary shock scene or two (like the evil spy's interrogation of a pretty would-be defector, which doesn't seem to have any connection to the rest of the film), and you're starting to make a real mess of things.

Still, the resolution, while coming out of left field, does do a reasonable job of tying things together. But I still cannot recommend this film, mainly because I still feel cheated at the under-utilization of three of the greatest horror actors of all time.

Mortuary (I) (2005)

Everything and the Kitchen Sink Scene

[5/10 · 5 August 2006]

So, what do you do when your hubbie dies and your life falls apart, and you need to start over? Move your family to a small town and become the local mortician, that's what! At least, that's what Leslie Doyle (TV's Tasha Yar, Denise Crosby) thinks would be a good idea.

Unfortunately, the old Fowler Funeral Home (foul-er, geddit?) is not exactly the shining opportunity I suspect she was hoping for. The place is abandoned, broken-down, and has a leaking septic tank full of toxic embalming chemicals. On top of that, the place figures large in local legend, since the Fowler clan was wiped out when deformed, abused young Bobby Fowler went on a brutal killing spree and disappeared into the night. Of course, the locals claim that Bobby is still alive, hiding out in the cemetery and showing up from time to time to perform obligatory small-town boogeyman duties.

Ordinarily, that would be enough to keep any horror film chugging along toward a satisfactory (if not terribly novel) conclusion. But, there's more! There's a nasty, black fungus that seeks out blood, a small pack of semi-intelligent fungi-infected zombioids, and a giant, underground slug with Lovecraftian pretensions to deal with. It's not long before all these monster plot lines are crashing into one another, fighting for screen time. All these beasties are ostensibly connected (Bobby serves the Slug who makes the Fungus which creates the Zombies), but it's really way too much for the film's 90+ minute run time, which means that set-up scenes get truncated and, by the end of the film, plot points seem to appear out of thin air. For instance, Bobby's obsession with little Jaime Doyle, which is used to kick off the climactic underground sequence, would have been far better served if there had been some room to show more of him stalking her early on.

There are a lot of good moments in Mortuary. Production values are high, make-up and effects are quite good, and, unlike many other horror films centered around a family unit, several good punches go unpulled and mothers and small children are fair game. But as a whole, it feels like three different films were smashed together to produce this one. On top of that, I had to deduct a point from my rating because the shock, it's-not-over-yet ending was lame even by the usual standards. See this one at your own risk; if you're willing to be Tobe's apologist for an hour and a half, you might even enjoy it.

Hellgate (1989)

Live Nude Horschak!

[4/10 · 17 June 2006]

Please, don't ask me what this movie's about, 'cause I've seen it a couple of times now, and I'm still not sure. I know it's about strange goings-on in a tourist-attraction ghost town called Hellgate. And there's this blue crystal that can raise the dead (kinda), make the living swell up and burst, and shoot a blue beam that makes things 'splode real good. And there's a motorcycle gang in the 'fifties who kidnap a girl from Hellgate, take her up there, and end up killing her after her dad(? I think.) attacks them with his awesome axe- and knife-throwing skills. And there's a group of modern-day teens (well, modern for 1989, anyway) who get mixed up in the whole mess, 'cause the dead girl, Josie, likes to seduce random men by wandering in the road playing Phantom Hitchhiker. But no one involved in this film seems to know how all these pieces fit together, so there's no way the poor, defenseless viewer is gonna make heads or tails of it.

But a confusing plot, terrible dialog, and crappy acting are the least of this movie's crimes. The worst offense is the casting of Ron Palillo (TV's Horschak, from Welcome Back, Kotter) as a leading man. Who is apparently irresistibly attractive to women. And has a gorgeous, but insanely jealous and possessive girlfriend. With whom he has a sex scene where we see nearly every possible nude-Horschak camera angle with the exception of a full-frontal. (And it's a good thing they don't go there; I like my eyes, and it'd be a shame if I had to claw them out in horror at the memory.)

Donovan's Brain (1953)

Gray Matters

[7/10 · 20 May 2006]

Donovan's Brain is one of the better known and highly respected science fiction films of the fifties, and it's plain to see why. The scant special-effects requirements, serious tone, high-profile cast, and human-interest driven plot would have put it in good position to cross over and appeal to a more mainstream audience than the typical, lurid invasion or radioactive-monster flicks of the day. But can it satisfy the needs of the modern fan of black and white SF? Let's take a closer look.

The story centers on Dr. Patrick Cory (Lew Ayres of "Dr. Kildare" fame) and his experiments in preserving brain tissue. His goal is to keep an entire brain alive in a tank, so that he can study it and learn its secrets for the betterment of all mankind. He is assisted by his wife, Janice (Nancy Davis of, well, being-married-to-Ronald-Reagan fame), and Dr. Frank Schratt, who provides the surgical expertise despite his near-constant drunken binges. While Dr. Cory has begun to have success with keeping monkey brains alive, his big break arrives when the dying millionaire W.H. Donovan is delivered to his lab for emergency treatment after a plane crash. So, when Donovan dies on the operating table, Cory thinks nothing of swiping his brain.

While Donovan's brain thrives in its tank of nutrient solution, Cory becomes frustrated at his inability to determine what a disembodied brain might be thinking about just by looking at it and measuring its brain waves. So, to Janice and Frank's dismay, he pins his hopes on a theory of establishing telepathic contact with the brain. Unfortunately, Donovan is way ahead of him on this, and uses the opportunity to take over Cory's mind and force him to take steps to gain control of the Donovan fortune and use it to ensure the brain's continued survival.

Donovan may have been a ruthless, brilliant financier, he proves not to be very good at covering his tracks, and Cory soon has the Treasury Department, an unscrupulous journalist, Donovan's heirs, and an increasingly worried Frank and Janice dogging his steps. Curiously, though, despite the fact that Frank and Janice go from being concerned about Cory's sanity to believing that Donovan has taken over Cory's mind, and while they discuss pulling the plug on the brain several times in the course of the film, each time they decide that it would be better to let Dr. Cory or God decide when the "experiment" should end.

Once they've finally had enough of Donovan, they hatch a plan whereby Janice will distract Cory/Donovan while Frank puts a bullet in the brain's, er, brain. Donovan trips to the plan in time to stop Frank, mainly because Janice's idea of distraction is to tell Donovan that they intend to put an end to his influence over Cory. So, God finally steps in Himself and pulls the plug on the brain with a well-placed lightning bolt. Apparently, God got an assist in this via taped instructions from Cory (recorded in one of his lucid, Donovan-free periods) to monkey with the house's lightning rod, but this explanation feels kind of tacked-on to avoid a completely Deus Ex Machina ending.

In the end, Dr. Cory is back to his old self, and is off to defend his experiment to the legal and medical authorities, which, excuse me? I'm sorry, Dr. Cory, but not only did you hijack a brain at the drop of a hat, but people died as a result of your actions, which I think puts the nails in the coffin of any medical-ethics defense. You'll be luckier than you deserve if you don't end up serving jail time for bank fraud, extortion, and manslaughter.

So, what have we got? Well, apart from the nonsense of Dr. Cory's hope for redemption in the denouement, we've got a very tight little story, an excellent cast, decent production values, and a fine director in Felix Feist. But it all comes across as a little dry and underwhelming. After all, if you're a fan of old SF films, it's probably because you like rubber monster suits, cheesy effects, and whacked-out scripts. Still, it is a classic, and as such is worth a look. But you might want to have a copy of something like The Brain that Wouldn't Die on hand in case you end up feeling a bit deprived in the cheap-thrills department.

Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine (1965)

Vincent Price, Supervillain

[7/10 · 13 May 2006]

In the mood for some silly, light entertainment? Have I got a film for you! Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine features Vincent Price, Frankie Avalon, and Dwayne Hickman (Dobie Gillis!), and more stupid, campy fun than you ever thought they could pack into a single movie.

Price is simply adorable as the villainous Dr. Goldfoot, a mad scientist who has built a dozen sexy robot women. These sexbots are then sent out to seduce and wed various wealthy men, gain control of their assets, and turn the proceeds over to the Doctor. Frankie Avalon is the bumbling secret agent who stumbles on the plan, and teams up with playboy Dobie to expose and thwart Goldfoot's evil plans. Along the way, we get a number of short, silly skits featuring the Doctor and his Igor (Jack Mullaney), loads of physical comedy, plenty of playful, innocent sexiness, a touch of fairly tame S&M, and a great wacky chase scene through the streets of San Francisco. Sit back, relax, and enjoy.

Night of the Demons (1988)

Sex, Death, and Linnea Quigley

[10/10 · 7 May 2006]

Now this is what an '80s slasher is supposed to be. Horny teenagers, creepy setting, unstoppable monsters, plenty of gore, ample nudity, an anyone-anytime attitude towards character death, and, of course, Scream Queens with dance scenes. How can you go wrong, with all of that?

Night of the Demons opens with several groups of teenagers headed for a Halloween party at the local haunted mansion, Hull House. Their trip out to the party site and initial explorations of Hull House provide plenty of opportunity for a number of innocent scares which lull the viewer into a false complacency. Then, after the teens unwittingly unleash the house's evil presence, things get ugly fast, as one after another, our cast becomes possessed by demonic spirits and are transformed into nightmarish killing machines.

Everything about this production is top-notch (at least, by slasher standards); particularly outstanding are the makeup effects and individual quirks of the main demons. Angela is awesome, terrifying, and surprisingly sexy as the leader of the demonic pack. Suzanne (portrayed by the always-welcome Linnea Quigley), a wild girl obsessed with her appearance, paints her face and body haphazardly with her makeup and stalks the guys seductively. And Stooge, the obnoxious geek, becomes a powerful, undead beast who leaves a trail of destruction in his wake.

Night of the Demons ranks among the best of all the '80s slashers, on par with films like A Nightmare on Elm Street, Return of the Living Dead, and Child's Play. If you haven't seen it yet, what are you waiting for?

Logan's Run (1976)

Really - It's Better Than You Remember

[7/10 · 7 May 2006]

Over the last 30 years, Logan's Run has become somewhat of a laughingstock, the poster child of bad '70s science fiction. Its mention evokes images of cheesy sets, bad action, silly plotting, and heavy-handed yet ultimately empty social commentary. Is this reputation deserved? On viewing it recently, I have to say, no.

That's not to say that Logan's Run doesn't have its flaws. Its main problem is the dialog, which is often leaden, unrealistic, and exposition-heavy. This creates an unfortunate challenge for the actors, who often appear to be visibly struggling to make a scene work despite the stupid lines the script gives them.

But once you get beyond that, there's a lot of good stuff to be found. The plot is tight, and Logan's gradual shifts from undercover agent trying to discover the whereabouts of hundreds of unaccounted-for Runners, to becoming a Runner himself, to revolutionary dedicated to ending the false "Renewal" ceremony, ring true and engage the viewer's sympathies. The sets, while certainly dated (particularly in technological terms), are impressive and evocative. And if anything, the film's vision of a future obsessed with youth, beauty, and obedience is even more meaningful today than when it was released.

The concept of Sanctuary is particularly well handled. Early in the film, Sanctuary is a legendary place, a haven for Runners who manage to escape, which no one inside the dome has ever seen or had contact with, yet inspires Runners to attempt escape from their society's strict codes of behavior. Later, we learn that there is no real Sanctuary; the Runners who pass beyond the final gate and escape from the Sandmen have been captured and frozen by a malfunctioning food-storage 'bot, and there is a strong implication that Logan and Jessica are the first to fully escape the dome and reach the outside. What they find is a real Sanctuary, a lush, green world where people could live freely, without the oppressive restrictions of dome society.

Other notable features include Peter Ustinov's wonderful performance as the confused, lonely Old Man, living in the ruins of Washington, D.C., and Logan's interrogation scene on returning to the dome, where holograms are used to represent the computer pulling information out of his brain.

So, why is this film ridiculed? I have a theory. Within about a year, Star Wars was released, and literally changed the audience's expectations of how an SF film should look. Logan's Run, with it's clean, simple design, human scale, and strong moralistic tones, represented the last gasp of a now-obsolete style of film-making, and as such, suffered greatly in comparison to the new wave of SF films. I think it deserves another look.

Contamination (1980)

Toxic Film-making

[2/10 · 29 April 2006]

What do you get when you combine Alien, buddy films, '70's exploitation villains, giallo-style gore, and a ton of padding? A freakin' mess, that's what.

Contamination pits the unlikely team of Col. Stella Holmes, a cold-hearted intelligence officer, Tony Aris, an obnoxious NY cop, and Ian Hubbard, a washed-up, bitter ex-astronaut against an evil organization planning to smuggle thousands of bacteria-laden alien egg-fruit into New York City. Their investigation eventually takes them to a South American plantation where Hamilton (Hubbard's old crewmate from an expedition to the Martian polar ice cap) is revealed as the architect of the plan at the behest of his cyclopean alien master.

Sounds like a perfectly serviceable B-movie plot line, you say? I suppose it could have been, if anything in the movie had made any sense. For instance, can anyone explain to me the point of the Cyclops' plan? Are the egg-fruit supposed to wipe out humanity? 'Cause if so, they're woefully inadequate for the job. Sure, anyone caught in the splash radius when they ripen and burst immediately dies a hideous death from fast-acting Explosive Ebola, but the disease is never shown as being able to spread beyond that initial release. So, to kill everyone, you'd have to explode an egg-fruit next to every man, woman, and child on the face of the Earth. Are they part of the alien's reproductive cycle? Hamilton seems to think so in one scene, but we see no evidence of that, and Col. Holmes' crack scientific team finds no sign of any embryonic creatures in the eggs, just lethal bacteria. (Good thing, too, because otherwise, judging from the number of burst eggs just left lying around during the course of the film, there'd have to be quite a few baby Cyclops wandering around at the end of the film that no one is even bothering to look for.) Another bit of absurdity – Col. Holmes was a major player in the investigation which declared Hubbard insane when he returned from Mars babbling about football-sized green eggs. Yet, when she is called in to deal with the NYPD's discovery of deadly football-sized green eggs, she doesn't make the connection until her science team connects the dots for her.

And those are just two of the bigger holes in the plot, but let's move on to the other problems. Like, say, extensive padding. From supposedly tense scenes that drag on way to long (like when Holmes is trapped in a hotel bathroom with a ripe egg), travelogue scenes showcasing the native splendors of South America, and utterly pointless transitional sequences, Contamination milks virtually every known strategy for extending run-time without advancing the plot.

Or, how about those famous Italian gore effects? Sure, a couple of the early deaths are fairly effective, but by the end of the film, things get really sloppy. Character deaths are foreshadowed by a sudden, conspicuous weight gain (due to the size of the blood'n'guts pack under their costumes) and obvious patches are blown off their outfits when their "guts" explode. And of course, there's the Cyclops. Not a bad design, from a pure looks standpoint, kinda reminiscent of the avocado-creature from one of the old invasion flicks (It Came from Outer Space? It Conquered the World? It… Did Something, I'm Sure), but spiffed up with nicer materials, facial articulation, and a few buckets of slime. But, the finished creature is too big and bulky to actually move around, so it has to be given mind control powers so it can force people to simply walk into its mouth at mealtimes. One could also assume that that's how its getting all these thugs, smugglers, and ex-astronauts to work for it, but that's never addressed in the film. Maybe it just pays really well.

So, while Contamination starts out strong, it rapidly collapses under the weight of its absurd plotting, clichéd characters, and generally poor film-making. And the saddest thing? They wasted a perfectly good Goblins soundtrack on this debacle. My advice? Don't bother with this one.

Shock Waves (1977)

Zombies and Nazis and John Carradine, Oh My!

[10/10 · 29 April 2006]

Just how many underwater Nazi zombie movies are there, anyway? I know there are at least three that I've seen. And all of them are pretty good, actually, which is even more surprising. But Shock Waves is, by far, the best of the lot.

The plot is not terribly ambitious, but, hey, it doesn't need to be – it's a zombie film. Complicated plotting generally just gets in the way. (I'm looking at you, Land of the Dead!) A pleasure cruise goes horribly wrong, two couples and the boat's three-man crew get stranded on a nearly-deserted island, an aging Nazi scientist orders them to leave before horrible things start happening, the UNZ's rise up from their watery graves, and, well, horrible things start happening, until only one person remains to tell the tale. That's really it, in a nutshell.

But Shock Waves fleshes out this simple skeleton of a story with piles of creepy visuals and effective characterizations. For starters, we've got a couple of veteran genre actors in the mix – Peter Cushing as the Nazi scientist, and John Carradine as the irascible captain of the pleasure boat, the standard "angry old man who's out of the movie by the end of the first reel" role he portrayed too many times to count in the later years of his career.

But the real stars of this film are the UNZs themselves. With their simple, gray SS uniforms, intimidating black goggles, identical blond haircuts, and makeup that mutes the actors' individual features, they really look like you would imagine unstoppable, undead, Nazi killing machines should. The scenes where they rise up out of the water, or stride ominously back down beneath the surface, are supremely creepy each and every time they occur. Plus, since they are not technically zombies, but scientifically re-animated super-soldiers, they are allowed to show much more intelligence and forethought than your typical ghoul, laying traps, co-operating, and toying with their victims before doing them in.

One thing that may disappoint some zombie fans is the extremely low level of blood and gore. The UNZ's are killers, not eaters, and, since they themselves don't breathe, drowning people is generally their method of choice. Personally, even though I'm a big fan of the gore, I didn't miss it at all.

Marebito (2004)

Jacob Wants His Ladder Back

[7/10 · 9 April 2006]

Marebito is the story of Masuoka, a freelance cameraman who becomes obsessed with experiencing absolute terror. His quest begins when he and his camera happen upon a terrified man who commits suicide in the subway. Masuoka captures the whole thing on tape, and, apparently after selling the footage to a news program (hey, the guy's gotta eat!), begins studying it, and other gristly scenes he's collected, for some clue as to what was going on in the dead man's head.

While revisiting the scene, M. attempts to retrace the dead man's steps, and discovers a passage leading down deep beneath the bowels of the city, to a secret underworld populated by crazy homeless people, the spirits of the dead, and the Deros from the Shaver Mysteries hollow-earth conspiracy (look it up - classic old-school paranormal wackiness). This is where I began to suspect that M. had more wrong in his head than simply an inability to get over a bit of disturbing video footage. But at this point, we're still seeing things solely through M.'s eyes, so let's roll with it.

After a deep, philosophical conversation with the suicide victim, M. finds a naked girl chained by the ankle in a small nook. He takes her home, names her "F," and discovers that she is mute, has fangs, does not eat or drink, and seems to have never known human company. He tries to befriend and help her, but she gradually becomes weaker until he discovers her taste for blood. Of course, this being a horror film, he has to start killing people in order to keep F fed. Disturbingly, M.'s first victim is a "crazy" woman who has been following him around, "claiming" to be his ex-wife, and demanding to know what has become of their daughter. Yeah, M.'s definitely got some serious mental problems.

Now, overall, I enjoy films with unreliable narrators, but they have a couple of major problems as a genre. First, there's really not that much to say in a movie that takes place entirely in one character's delusional world except, "This guy's batsh*t crazy." The first time you see one, it's an amazing trick; the second time, a nifty puzzle; but after a while, they all start to blend together. And second, once you've figured out that what you're seeing are the viewpoint character's hallucinations, all bets are off, anything can happen, and suspense goes out the window.

Marebito, however, is saved from also-ran status by the masterful direction of Takashi Shimizu and an excellent performance by Shinya Tsukamoto as Masuoka. Apart from a few conversations in the underworld, and the angry, desperate accusations of the "crazy woman." there is virtually no dialog, only the narrative observations of M., locking us in his imaginary world for most of the film. And although M. is searching for the intense emotional experience of ultimate horror, he remains distant and disconnected from the horrors he witnesses and creates until the final scenes of the film. In addition, the story has a strong mythological resonance - in particular the descent into the underworld sequence brings to mind Orpheus, Innanna, and countless other stories.

In short, this is an extremely well-handled version of a story that's been told many, many times before. It makes me wish I hadn't seen so many other versions of the story so that I could have enjoyed it that much more.

Atragon (1963)

Manda, We Hardly Knew Ye

[6/10 · 11 March 2006]

I really, really wanted to love this film. Ishiro Honda directing, Ifukube score, relatively obscure giant monster, high-tech flying submarine; all the elements are there for a truly satisfying kaiju experience.

But, on that level, Atragon just ain't that great a movie, mainly due to a sad lack of giant monster scenes. It seems like Honda blew the entire budget on the sets and costumes for the Undersea Empire of Mu, and had nothing left for Manda. When cities get leveled, it happens off-camera, with only some newspaper headlines to clue in the viewer that something actually happened, somewhere.

Fortunately, it's not all bad. There's a lot of Japanese post-war angst thrown around on the screen, and that's at least interesting from a sociological point of view. You see, there's this Japanese submarine commander and engineering genius, Capt. Jinguji, who went missing at the end of WWII, leaving his baby daughter in the care of his commanding officer, Admiral Kosumi.

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the ocean, the Muans are feeling peeved that they no longer control the world like they did in the days before they sunk into the depths, so they decide to reveal themselves and take over. Everyone quickly realizes that the only chance the surface world has against Mu is to find Jinguji and the secret project he's been working on all these years.

Unfortunately, Capt. J. has no interest in such petty concerns as saving the world; he built his Supersub solely to restore the glory of the Japanese Empire, and refuses to use it for anything more than (I guess) re-subjugating East Asia, and probably getting back at those meddlesome Americans.

Of course, this plan doesn't really fly in post-war Japan. Even the Admiral has pretty much resigned himself to Japan's surrender-enforced pacifism, and J.'s daughter and the other young members of the cast are absolutely horrified at the Captain's goals. This leads to extended debates over patriotism vs. realpolitik, until the Muans find J.'s secret base and attack. Now, it's personal. So, the Atragon is finally launched against Mu, and Manda finally gets let out to play with the sub in the movie's climactic scenes.

The scary part is how even-handedly the debate is handled. Neither side is presented as inherently above the other - concern for the fate of the world is seemingly on par with fanatical patriotism and the desire for Empire throughout much of the film. For every scene where, for instance, J.'s goals are equated with the Muans' (a fair comparison), there's a scene where one of the youngsters is scolded for not upholding the banner of Japanese supremacy. Actually, it explains a lot about the craziness of Japanese culture.

It's all quite interesting, but kind of dry, and totally lacking in any city-stomping goodness. So, if you're looking to see Manda run amok, you'll want to skip this. Try Destroy All Monsters, instead - Manda gets a few good scenes in that one.

Speed Demon (2003)

No, Speed Racer, Nooooo!

[1/10 · 5 March 2006]

Every so often, a director steps forward and exceeds the boundaries of our expectations, showing us a new and startling vision of how bad a film can be. Such a film is David DeCoteau's Speed Demon. Even now, I'm not sure what to make of it. What about it leaves me with this feeling that it's one of the worst films I've ever seen? Let's go back to the beginning.

Speed Demon looks, on the face of it, like a simple exploitation concept: "Let's do The Fast & The Furious as a horror film!" Ah, if only they had stopped there and left well enough alone. It would have been a nice little time-killer, a one-off on the video store shelf waiting for a week where no new big actioner is released.

The plot, while inane, at least does us the favor of staying fairly simple. Evil Otto wants to be the Fastest Man Alive (I always thought that was the Flash), and to that end he practices Satanism and collects gothy pentagram pendants. This gives him control over a Speed Demon (yep, they actually call 'em that), an ancient Sumerian bogie with power over all things speedy.

Our Hero, Jesse, also has a pendant, that he inherited from his daddy. (I guess that makes him a Satanist, too. Huh.) So, Otto kills Jesse's little brother in the only real car-racing scene in, like, the entire picture, and sets his sites on Jesse. He does this by performing a semi-naked "Rite of Purification" on one after another of his underlings, and sending them out to do his dirty work. Unfortunately, each time he does, the poor stooge is slaughtered by a mysterious driver in head-to-toe black pleather whom we'll call Racer X. No one seems particularly disturbed by the killing spree, and the gang members go one by one to their deaths as calmly and willingly as any third-world dictator could wish for in a presidential guard.

Meanwhile, Jesse's kinda half-dating Otto's blonde girlfriend, a development so inconsequential to the rest of the plot that I can't even recall her name now. With Otto rapidly running out of minions thanks to Racer X, soon Jesse and Otto have to come together for their climactic battle. Who will get the pendants? What is the true identity of Racer X? If, at this point, you care, you're way ahead of me.

But what makes this movie transcendently, even innovatively bad, are the small touches. Things like the lack of continuity, the stating-the-obvious narration, and the plodding, numbing pace combine so that the strangeness of this movie descends on you in stages, like a series of blows to the head.

The first thing you notice is that none of the guys wear shirts. Well, OK, sometimes they put on a t-shirt, but they make up for it by taking every opportunity to dance around in their Michael Jordans. Oh, and there are a couple of women in this film, but apparently someone forgot to tell the cameraman. I'm not trying to make any trouble, but let's just say that Speed Demon makes Jeepers Creepers look like Barb Wire, and leave it at that.

Next, the setting starts to sink in. Everything happens in industrial parks - heavy, concrete buildings surrounded by undesirable scrub land, with chain-link fences, stairways carved into hillsides, and random mechanical debris. No houses anywhere to be seen; Jesse has a place that is either an apartment above his father's garage, or a very cheap motel room, or a family homestead with what looks like a nice patio outside the window; you couldn't really tell from one shot to the next. On the whole, it's nicely filmed, all gray and geometrical in the noonday sun, but after a while, the stark monotony brings a new meaning to the word "oppressive."

But the strangest thing is, apart from Our Hero and Evil Otto's racing gang, there's no one else in this film. And I don't mean no secondary characters; I mean no signs of human life whatsoever - no extras, no cars on the streets, no signs of movement caught in the background. OK, there are two diners in a restaurant scene, and I may have blinked and missed a waitress. So that makes, let's see - about a dozen people LEFT ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH?!? And yet, rather than live in the nice, empty houses of the... oh, let's say, raptured public, most of these people choose to make their homes in abandoned tool & die plants at the edge of town?

All of this is served up on a big, steamy bed of rock-video style direction, with impossible intercuts, swooping pans, and the by-now-inevitable twitchy-head stop motion effect. This, combined with the staggering awfulness of this film, made me want to chalk it all up to a lack of experience on the director's part. But, I looked up David DeCoteau's filmography, and found an impressive amount of work in B-movie horror and softcore fare, under half a dozen names, dating back to the mid-eighties. Final Stab, the Brotherhood series, several Puppetmasters, and even Dr. Alien. (Anybody else remember good ol' Dr. Alien?) Now, many if not all of these movies are pretty bad, but Speed Demon stands alone as a terrifying leap into new and dizzying realms of badness. If you share my masochistic streak, track this movie down and watch it immediately. Otherwise, don't say I didn't warn you.

Near Dark (1987)

Interview With a Wimpire

[3/10 · 20 February 2006]

I suppose I just should have gone with my instincts and put Near Dark back on the shelf. It's a vampire movie, and as a rule, I don't watch 'em. (OK, Hammer Draculas, but they're something else entirely.) But, I got hooked on the box copy - it looked kinda indie, the quotes were promising, and the art was gruesome enough - I thought it might be a big make-up FX film. Instead, it was everything I hate about the modern vampire. Did'ja ever sit through an entire film just because you hate it so much you refuse to let it beat you?

Near Dark is the worst sort of Anne Rice pastiche. A small group of vampires wander the Southwest in a series of stolen vehicles, wantonly killing rednecks during their nightly hunts. The youngest of the lot, a tiny little short-haired blonde chick with big anime eyes, accidentally turns a hunky young Oklahoman guy (our Hero). Why? 'Cause he's so nice she can't bear to kill him (not so nice, however, that his blatant attempts to bed her don't come across as sleazy and manipulative). Hero spends the rest of the film agonizing over his undead state, refusing to kill or feed off humans and feeding on Blondie instead (codependence, anyone?), thereby pissing off the rest of the pack, until he returns home and is cured by a simple transfusion (!) from his father, Tim Thomerson. (Bad Dad of the vampire pack is played by Lance Hendrickson - battle of the craggy dads!) He then kills the rest of the vampires, except for Blondie, who is likewise cured by the life-giving blood of Dollman. Happily ever after, amen.

So much is wrong with this film, but the thing that's got my blood boiling is the inversion of the monster motif. The victims are all ciphers, mostly obnoxious, aggressive rednecks or women of loose morals. The vics only get sympathy when they're supposed to be Hero's prey, and then they just go all soft and squishy and puppy-eyed. Only the moral purity of our Hero - a vampire, let me remind you - matters. Even Blondie's redemption only serves to further demonstrate his virtue. Aaaargh.

Cabin Fever (2002)

Contagious

[8/10 · 20 February 2006]

Finally, they got one right! Ever since Resident Evil replaced zombies with crazed, decaying plague carriers in the horror film lexicon, I haven't been particularly pleased with the results. RE itself turned out to be just another video-game stinker, 28 Days Later was way too self-conscious to be scary, and so on. But now we have Cabin Fever, a film that remembers that the zombie sub-genre is about helplessness, moral quagmires, and visceral, gut-wrenching effects. (Well, OK, except when it's about Linnea Quigley dancing naked in a graveyard...)

Cabin Fever strays further from the old zombie toolkit to further define this new batch of plague movies. In particular, it's the first to notice that carriers don't need to be homicidal to become objects of horror - the prospect of contagion is more than enough to transform a person into a monster in the eyes of others. The fact that, to the camera's eye, they are merely sick, frightened people who desperately want help adds a uniquely new disturbing tone to the proceedings.

Like the Romero films that started it all, the message here is less about fear of disease than about ordinary people acting badly when threatened by crisis, and, like Romero, the message is occasionally delivered with a heavy hand (including one rather-too-overt reference to Night of the Living Dead). But, overall, this is a film that will continue to disturb you long after the credits roll, and really, isn't that everything you could hope for in a horror flick?

Weasels Rip My Flesh (1979)

Weasels Ate My Script

[8/10 · 20 February 2006]

So, you're thinking of watching Weasels Rip My Flesh, are you? Well, ask yourself this - how much pain can you take, bucko? 'Cause this ain't no ordinary film, no sir. Y'ever see one of those "outsider" art shows - the paintings with the cheap materials, crude figures, no perspective, and weirdly distorted sense of space creating an effect only slightly better than what's posted on grandma's refrigerator, and the highest praise you can muster is to commend the artists on their determination in the face of their obvious lack of talent or training? This is the cinematic equivalent.

Normally, this would be the point where I would give a little recap of the plot, but that's not really possible, as there isn't much of one. There's lots of nice, loooong shots of trees and brush, interspersed with scenes involving characters doing senseless things and then dying or otherwise dropping out of the film entirely. But, basically, a weasel is exposed to radioactive slime from Venus (don't ask), and goes around killing people. Then two Agents show up and fight with an utterly non-scientific-looking Mad Scientist in the least-laboratory-looking laboratory set I've ever seen in my life. The Mad uses weasel blood to change Agent Sidekick into a gray carrot-creature, the monsters fight, Agent Mustache fights the Mad, many people lose many limbs, the special effects department opens another can of Chef Boyardee, then we get the Lamest Shock Ending of All Time, and roll credits.

Of course, I'm leaving out the drunk college girls killed by a weasel-rabies-infected madman (which occurs before the weasel itself is mutated - huh?), the gripping rocket-to-Venus sequence, the two guys who dissect a severed weasel-limb in their kitchen, with tragic results, the unknown woman on a table in the not-lab, the bike-riding kids, and who knows what else, but none of those scenes really amount to anything, anyway.

If that's not enough to put you off your feed, check out the imaginative, yet ultimately pathetic, use of props. Hypodermic needles are stored in beer steins, pasta tongs (or maybe a hair clip?) serve as the Venus probe's robot arm, and my favorite - the duct-tape covered shoebox with "DANGER RADIOACTIVE MATERIALS" (or some such - I'm not going back to search the disc now) crudely magic-markered on the lid. Really gives you that high-tech NASA feel.

On the plus side . . . Hmmm. OK, there's a crashing-rocket's-eye-view shot that's kinda interesting, but only because it's hard to figure how they did it at their bottom-feeder level of production. The thick Long Island and Jersey accents of some of the actors are occasionally diverting. And, we get not one, but three Ron Jeremy look-a-likes in the cast! OK, one's kinda more Gabe Kaplan, but still, it should count for something.

Spider Baby or, the Maddest Story Ever Told (1967)

God Bless You, Lon Chaney, Jr.!

[10/10 · 20 February 2006]

I remember the first time I saw Spider Baby. I popped in the tape expecting to spend the next 90 minutes merrily abusing a cheesy, low-budget Lon Chaney, Jr. film; you know the type. But, as the film progressed, my friends and I fell silent, watching intently, and when it was over, we looked at each other in awe at what we had seen.

Spider Baby is, without a doubt, the Platonic Ideal of cult films. The cast alone is a who's who of b&w horror - you've got Sid Haig, Carol Ohmart, Mary Mitchell, and Manton Moreland. And, as a special bonus, Lon Chaney, Jr. (who went on the wagon for this movie) delivers an atypically powerful performance as the naive (one might even say "simple") chauffeur who is the only remotely sane member of the Merrye household, a family of regressed, cannibal children (and their Uncle Ned and Aunt Martha, but they're so far gone, they live in the basement and aren't much bother to care for).

The Merryes are brutal innocents. When they reach adolescence, a hereditary disease kicks in, and their brains develop more holes than an English cow's. They become first childlike, and then animalistic as the disease progresses. Chaney promised their father he would take care of the kids, and he does his best to raise them, protect them, and keep them from killing random passers-by, but three strapping young sociopaths are a bit much for any one man to handle. And when long-lost relatives show up virtually unannounced, hoping to have the Merryes declared incompetent so that the house and its contents can be sold, things take an ugly turn.

For many years, Spider Baby languished in obscurity, virtually unobtainable since its initial appearance. Now that it's readily available, I highly recommend seeking it out. You won't be disappointed.

Warning from Space (1956)

Starfish Troopers

[6/10 · 20 February 2006]

First, I'd like to have a word with the folks at Alpha Video - could you have possibly found a crappier print to transfer? Film dirt so bad it makes you want to floss, and an equally ragged soundtrack. But, if you can wade through the muck, there's quite a trippy little film going on here.

The plot is fairly typical - enlightened aliens come to Earth to tell us what bad housekeepers we are, and warn us of an impending catastrophe. The hook that makes this movie unique, though, is that the aliens look like giant starfish with a giant, glowing blue eye at their center. (OK, actually, they look like giant rayon starfish costumes with a gift-shop novelty lamp in the stomach, but work with me, here.)

Wacky hijinks ensue as the StarFish attempt to infiltrate human society, only to find that humans react to the presence of six-foot walking invertebrates by screaming, running away, or shooting. Just because the invertebrates in question were skulking outside windows and crashing dance parties. Stupid barbarian humans.

So, their chief scientist takes the form of a sexy nightclub singer to get some attention. Unfortunately for her, the human cast of this film (consisting of the usual assortment of scientists, scientist's daughters, and their boyfriends) seem completely uninterested in the plot. They go on picnics, take in a show, do anything to avoid working to prevent a rogue planet from colliding with Earth. At one point, the key scientist who knows the formula that will save the day is kidnapped, and apparently is left tied up, alone, in an abandoned building for a month (!) before anyone even bothers to go looking for him. These people are just not motivated!

Yet, somehow, in the end, the day is saved through the combined efforts of human and StarFish (was there ever any doubt?) We're supposed to have learned something here, something warm and fuzzy about accepting others no matter what they're like inside, as long as they conform outwardly to our narrow expectations of acceptable appearance. And also that, if we all work together, we can build a big enough bomb to knock a planet off its course! Touching, no?

Island of Death (1976)

Proto-Mickey and Ur-Mallory

[4/10 · 20 February 2006]

Island of Death is not really a good movie, by any standard, but it is a curious one. Imagine if Natural Born Killers had been made 20 years too early, as a Greek Eurotrash porn film. That's what you get here - the quaint story of a young, sociopathic British couple cutting a deadly swath through the population of a lovely little Greek island.

I'll spare you a detailed breakdown of the plot; it's not really important except to set up increasingly perverse or violent sex scenes followed by disturbingly brutal murders, often lovingly photographed for posterity by our charming young couple. It could have been brilliant, in its own sick and nasty way, but instead...

Instead, I found myself impatiently checking the run time and chapter index to see how much longer the parade was going to last. Sluggish pacing and listless, bland acting turn even vilest perversities into pablum, and connecting scenes into an eternity of dull plodding. Ah, well. You can't win 'em all.

Cannibals in the Streets (1980)

The Saxon Factor

[7/10 · 20 February 2006]

Cannibal Apocalypse only half lives up to its title - plenty of cannibals, but no real apocalypse. The premise is fairly original, if terribly stupid - somehow, in the seething cauldron of the Viet Nam war, cannibalism becomes a contagious disease which three vets carry back home with them. I know, I know, cannibalism is a social behavior, not a pathogen, and the movie knows it, too, so some brief lip service is paid to a theory of psychic mutation which is never really explained and immediately forgotten. Unfortunately, since the infected aim to kill and eat their victims, opportunities to spread the disease are rare, and the outbreak burns itself out quicker than you can say "Ebola."

No, what saves this movie from being just an also-ran in the field of Italian zombie flicks is the presence of John Saxon, the face you've grown to love from about a zillion other cheesy 70's action flicks. Here, he's given a real plum of a role, as he gets to slowly change from a man horrified by his post-traumatic stress induced nightmares, to a full-on, unrepentant cannibal seeking to escape pursuit and find a place where he and his kind can live in peace and pursue their alternate lifestyle of wanton killing and consuming human flesh. Is that so wrong?

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971)

Murder With Style

[10/10 · 20 February 2006]

It's almost harder to review a personal favorite - where do you start? Phibes is a gorgeous visual feast (the director, Robert Fuest, was the man responsible for the look of TV's The Avengers), it features a commanding performance by Vincent Price as the title madman, the plot is over the top, yet never veers out of control, Peter Jeffrey (as Inspector Trout) provides wonderful comic relief, and Phibes racks up a body count that most Hollywood slashers would be envious of.

Price plays Dr. Phibes, a multidisciplinary genius (doctor, expert in acoustics, and clockwork-automaton maker, amongst other skills) who is horribly disfigured (or perhaps killed?) rushing back home to attend to his beloved wife during a dangerous operation. When she dies on the operating table, Phibes blames the surgical team, and begins picking them off one by one via complicated plots based around the biblical plagues of Egypt. Trout trips to the plan fairly early on, but is still unable to stop the killing, due to Phibes' diabolical intelligence and unstoppable will. It all comes together in Phibes' secret hideout where Phibes threatens the life of the chief surgeon's son with a fiendish puzzle.

Speaking of Phibe's secret hideout, I can say that it is the main visual joy of the film. Decorated in art-deco glory, filled with musical automatons, and graced with the presence of the ethereal, mute sidekick (robot?) Vulnavia (whose relationship to Phibes is never fully explained - he dances and dines with her as with a lover, but is devoted to his dead wife - but that inconsistency actually adds to the charm of the film instead of harming it).

Death Bed: The Bed That Eats (1977)

It's So Dreeeeeamy!

[10/10 · 20 February 2006]

Hmmmm. I'm kinda at a loss here. I mean, I know I liked Death Bed, I know I'll be spreading the gospel of Death Bed to all my friends and acquaintances, and if you're reading this, I urge you to see Death Bed, but I can't really say why. Perhaps that's the secret of its charm.

Plot? Well, sort of. There's this bed that eats people (and fried chicken, apples, flowers, suitcases, and any other darn thing that gets near it) by sucking them inside its digestive-fluid filled mattress. Amongst its near-limitless powers, Bed has the ability to keep the spirit of Aubrey Beardsley trapped behind a picture to observe and narrate the events of the film. Various people then wind up at Bed's abandoned mansion (Bed's habit of eating anything that moves gave the place an unsavory reputation), and lay down to have sex, or take a nap, or because they don't feel well, and get eaten, sometimes having trippy dreams first. And in the end we have the explosive final confrontation between Beardsley, Bed's mom (you had to be there), and Bed.

Seems rather straightforward, when I put it like that, doesn't it - well, except for the Aubrey Beardsley part. But something feels constantly off-kilter, and the story seems to glide sleepily from one scene to the next, even when indulging in cheap laughs or strange gore effects. Imagine Bunel crossed with Bergman, then left to soak in a big vat of Herschell Gordon Lewis. The tone of the story shifts from horror, to fairy tale, to comedy, to existential meditation, without breaking stride - an incredible achievement for a no-budget student film shot in the Detroit area.

All in all, an astounding little film that, quite probably, no review can ever completely do justice. See it for yourself.

Splatter University (1984)

Oh, For the Love of God!

[2/10 · 20 February 2006]

Back in the days before the Toxic Avenger, the low-camp kings at Troma Films tried to take the high (OK, somewhat-less-low) road of producing straight slasher pics. I'd like to think that viewing the results here is what convinced them to give up all pretension and go for self-conscious parody.

Splatter University is another film for the masochists in the audience. As it meanders about through two separate casts and innumerable pointless subplots, it actually becomes painful to watch. Let's see if I can summarize.

After learning that a dangerous psychopath has escaped from a local hospital, the action moves to a Catholic university (I don't recall the name, but in honor of the title, let's call it St. Splatter). The students are listless and sullen, and argue pettily with each other, slackers ahead of their time. Meanwhile, the new professor, Julie Parker, proves utterly incompetent at her job. The kids deal with relationships, infidelity, unwanted pregnancies, lecherous priests, and how to avoid doing any work in class; Julie deals with a creepy boyfriend, the inflexible administration at St. Splatter, counseling unwed mothers, and the blank, expressionless looks of her students. None of it means a darn thing or gets resolved in any meaningful way. Oh, and every once in a while, a POV shot comes along and stabs one of the girls to death, but don't hold your breath waiting for it. There's a Red Herring Killer, and then a sadly anticlimactic confrontation with the Real Killer, then it's back to the asylum and roll credits.

The slow pace and numerous inane subplots seem almost calculated to produce a mounting sense of frustration in the viewer, which is helped along by choppy editing, coffee-can sound quality, and dialog that just doesn't make any sense. And the most agonizing thing about this movie is the killer's fixation on women - the men in this movie are just so deserving. I'd've paid good money to see someone off the jerk with the pregnant girlfriend, or the lunkhead Lothario who was fooling around with his girlfriend's roommate, or any of the creepy priests. There ain't no justice.