Cinema Stench

Sexually frustrated with the shortcomings of his male anatomy, Bigfoot escapes from his scientist captor and runs amok in a snowy suburb on Valentine's Day, looking for a mate and flesh to eat. The soon-to-be-doomed neighborhood is occupied by two house-sitting girls with their geeky dates, a lonely divorcee, and a drunken man named Maverick, who happens to be an amateur Bigfoot tracker. But will Maverick's expertise by enough to defeat the Big F with the little D?

The Big F is the newest feature from Brian Papandrea and Rock Bottom Video (Fangboner) and another in the never-ending wave of Bigfoot misadventures from the micro-budget underground. There have been so, so, so many clunky, homegrown, goofball, direct-to-video apeman flicks since Suburban Sasquatch alone that the only deciding factor in my viewing of this feature was its title. Apparently, hooks can be baited with even the most meager of worms (probably should've saved that metaphor for a fish-man movie... meh), but at least we have a movie to watch after Sexsquatch.

Bigfoot film fans will have less of a fun time with The Big F than fans of off-color video trash comedy, but those who fall into that second camp will likely be pleased with the film's quick wit and crude humor. Even after meeting the character Maverick (played by director Papandrea), I was prepared to lose patience with his over-the-top, white trash caricature performance but was relieved to have found myself laughing more times than not. The character Chuck is also good for chuckles as the story's straight man, however the rest of the cast were just plain straight.

The bigfoot costume is of the typical Halloween store variety (with some lowbrow modifications), and the violence consists of a few splashes of blood and another few instances of dismemberments. The synth score is provided by ambient artist Slasher Dave (of the stoner metal band Acid Witch) and fits the schlocky mood of the picture just fine. The sex quotient could've been amped up a little given the bigfoot's motivation, though the viewer is treated to some mild nudity early on. Lastly, the true saving grace is the location. It's nice having a sasquatch movie set somewhere, anywhere other than the woods.

In 2015, a new horror anthology called German Angst blew through the festival circuit and features three installments from provocative German filmmakers.  The most notable and surely the most excitement-garnering collaborator being Jörg Buttgereit, whose artful and shocking back catalog including Nekromantik and Schramm have been newly released on blu-ray. With the recent North American video release, the anticipation this film has created on this side of the world can finally be answered, and it does not disappoint.

The first tale, called "Final Girl," spends some time in a small apartment with a reclusive young girl going through her daily routines and her pet guinea pigs. Everything seems normal enough until we find out she has a man tied to a bed in the next room whom she swiftly castrates. The reason for him being there is left ambiguous, but can be interpreted as a result of either Turkish xenophobia or perhaps a past sexual assault. The shortest of the three, this tale is classic Buttgereit. Though the picture may be the most polished looking of his filmography, the content is as sombre and graphic as ever. The dialog is limited to narration and radio programming, but the whole scenario speaks for itself, loudly. Buttgereit hasn't lost an ounce of his signature talent, and fans of his are definitely going to embrace this short rabidly.

"Make a Wish" is this anthology's second story and follows a deaf-mute man and woman who are accosted by four psychotic, nationalist street toughs in an abandoned warehouse. The couple happens to have in their possession a charmed amulet that they use to allow the man to "trade places" with their lead attacker. This segment is helmed by director Michal Kosakowski and is in stark contrast to Buttgereit's by being chaotic and tense, mostly from the over-the-top performances of the four hoodlums. This uncomfortable morality tale loads the "becoming what you hate" theme with manic violence and little breathing room. Not having many credits to his name, Kosakowski has proven to be someone worth watching with his installment here.

The last segment, "Alraune," is the longest and most ambitious of the three, and the only one that is mostly shot in English. A photographer recounts a tale to his girlfriend about joining a secret society and its sexually hallucinatory pastimes after a botched blind date. Andreas Marschall's entry is a borderline Lovecraftian nightmare-turned-creature-feature with some parallels to Jacob's Ladder. Much more plot-driven than the first two segments, "Alraune" also employs many more locations and people and has a very lively score. Marschall shows tremendous improvement in storytelling since his other anthology Tears of Kali, each segment of which were weighed down by droning dialog and stagnant, singular locations. However here, his story is the pick of the litter and is the one viewers will be remembering most.

German Angst is one of the few anthologies that delivers with every tale. Each segment is shocking, bleak, and poignant. While all stories take place in Berlin, there's another common link between them: themes dealing with foreigners and xenophobia (Turkish, Polish, and Ukrainian, respectively). Whether the film is trying to make a statement as a whole is unclear, but the sentiment is definitely there, especially in Buttgereit's and Kosakowski's. This film is highly recommended and is a stand-out effort for everyone involved. -N. Weaver

The city is rocked with fear as a band of faceless “killers” indiscriminately slaughter everyone they can. This is especially frustrating for a separate troupe of “slashers” (parodying popular 90’s movie killers) who are philosophically bound to cliché horror movie conventions. On the case are a third team: a group of “slasher hunters” and “survivors” whose cause it is to stop the two aforementioned gangs before they join forces and start piling up even more bodies.

The Survivors is director Steve Rudzinski’s short film sequel to nearly every movie he’s made up to this point, as well as a semi-spoof of 90’s slasher movies such as Scream, Urban Legend, and I Know What You Did Last Summer. There is a lot going on in this movie, and unless one has seen the filmmaker’s previous efforts, it may also be overwhelming. But like those previous efforts, this movie is concept-driven; it has good ideas, unique perspectives, and new potential surfacing in every scene. Despite being almost unbearably silly and non-professional, it offers something more than just horror movie inside jokes and goofy action. It has persuasion.

Like 2011’s The Slasher Hunter, the parodies in this film are anything but subtle, but there is some satisfaction to be had in seeing a long overdue riff on the mostly dismissed Urban Legend. The references to and characters from past Rudzinski movies are surely treats for the fans, however awkward it might seem to corral so many into a single short (didn’t catch any Super Task Force One references though). The blood is mostly relegated to CG splatter, making the action not quite as gory as one might expect given the premise. On an overall technical level, the production looks and sounds very sleek with good editing, audio, and picture.

Treacherous cavewoman Dina is put to death by the leader of her tribe, Neandra, for sneaking around with her man, super cave stud Rex. When her body is taken overnight, the tribe believes a dangerous beast, or perhaps a butcher, is among them. Not able to accept that she has let anything bad happen to her tribe, Neadra denies anything more than a small tiger is responsible for the mystery. However, one by one, the tribeswomen are slain by the mythical butcher who is possessed to kill by his love for Dina’s ghost until she has her revenge.

Before getting started, I must admit that I love caveman horror movies (or the limited few that exist). I watch Neanderthal Man semi-regularly, I intentionally spent money on a copy of Memorial Valley Massacre, and I’ve even had my noggin squeezed by late Eegah! actor Richard Kiel. So when I heard Troma was releasing “the first prehistoric slasher film,” I became excited. Shot on 16mm by seventeen-year-old Kansas Bowling, B.C. Butcher plays less like a slasher movie and more like a comedic 1950’s drive-in flick along the lines of The Wild Women of Wongo or Prehistoric Women. It seriously feels like watching a long lost cheese-fest resurrected by Something Weird Video, and that is the film’s biggest selling point.

The groovy, retro nature of B.C. Butcher is highlighted by a fun cast of characters and absurd attack scenes. Like the best of the worst from the golden age of B-movies, the performances here are all overacted to the nth degree. The attack scenes are sparse and quick with most of the blood and guts being spilt during the film’s opening execution, which will possibly disappoint those who may be expecting the slasher movie this was partially marketed as. The makeup of the butcher is simply a hideous mask with little to no effort on the part of the effects team to try to blend it with the actor’s face; though, the makeup of Dina the corpse is effective, if inconsistent.

B.C. Butcher is a fast paced movie, clocking in at only 51 minutes. The editing is brisk and leaves no room for boring filler (yet exciting filler is left all over the place). The wardrobe is almost entirely made from leopard-print fabric, only adding to the film’s drive-in production aesthetic. The location appears to be exclusively on or near a Southern California hiking trail (that I’ve probably been on), reminding me of yet another old popcorn movie called Equinox (coincidentally, also featuring a large caveman). The soundtrack is a mix of oldies and garage rock, and in one scene we have pioneering KROQ DJ Rodney Bingenheimer introducing a prehistoric rock group for a brief musical number. This movie really wants to keep the viewer’s attention, and just might.

After being let off the hook by an undercover cop during a prostitution bust, drug addict Nadine (Erin Russ, Porkchop) moves back to her childhood home with her religious mother, Delilah, to sober up and restart her life on a better track. Her mother tries in vain to encourage Nadine to find a job and take more responsibility for herself, but eventually she turns to a televised Christian helpline for answers. Things start to go sour when a charismatic yet sketchy preacher man (David Yow, of the alternative rock band The Jesus Lizard) shows up to their house to rid Nadine of her supposed unholy influences. Believing his methods are helping save her daughter’s soul, Delilah complies with the preacher’s unethical practices, which involves unrelenting physical, mental, and sexual abuse.

Upsidedown Cross is cult figure William Hellfire’s first feature film in nearly a decade and is surely his most accomplished feature to date. Released through Alternative Cinema and Hellfire’s own production company Factory 2000, this new effort is a noticeably different experience from what the director has brought forth in the past. While his previous films usually showcased shocking violence (Duck! The Carbine High Massacre) and fetishistic eroticism (Silk Stocking Strangler), Hellfire presents a more character-focused tale, concentrating more on the psychological turmoil that results from the misinterpretation of faith and the misplacement of trust.

Although falling below par on emotion and energy, the acting in Upsidedown Cross is fully engaging and the characters so interesting. Each of the three leading roles have their own magnetism and depth that the viewer cannot help but become entranced by their personalities. These characters are very well developed, and it helps that each are given space to have their own monologues throughout the film, something that exploitation movies RARELY allow. Stealing the show and delivering the best performance is musician Yow, who absolutely commands the role of the off-kilter preacher. Also, making a small appearance at the beginning is long-time Hellfire collaborator and trash film starlet Tina Krause.

The marketing of Upsidedown Cross is sure to appeal to the horror fanbase; however, the film itself is a gritty and claustrophobic drama, exploiting the uncomfortable dissonance between unrealistic religious ideals and animalistic, carnal desires. While there are some scenes of sex and violence, the substance lies within the storytelling and the buildup of tension. All the scenes of abuse are disturbing, although the actors are obviously pulling their punches, the most evident occurrences being the dry-humping that passes for sex/rape. The picture quality is slick and vibrant, but has a natural grindhouse feel thanks to occasional video grain and a dirty camera lens.

Faith is a newcomer to the Good Friends Church Camp team and is already making friends. Doug is the energetic and nerdy camp director who is eager to spread the Good Word to his fellow counselors and future campers. Dr. Shirtcliff (Michael Madsen) is a wily ol’ chap who drives a smart Car and is hell bent on warning the local authorities and residents of the return of the “lumberjack man,” a demon logger who goes on a murderous rampage every 30 years. Easterday is said lumberjack man who pulls a large wagon full of gigantic pancakes on his killing spree around the church camp. Drugs, breasts, a food fight, maple syrup, and excessive moisturizing happen before eventually these four characters fall headlong into a living nightmare. 

For the first time in five years, After Dark Films has brought back its “8 Films to Die For” to limited theatrical (but mostly video) release, and Lumberjack Man graces this new batch as one of the funniest splatter comedies in recent memory. The only other film this year that has made me laugh quite as hard was the Melissa McCarthy vehicle, Spy. This picture gives slasher fans everything expected from a typical entry in this subgenre and adds a heaping dose of syrupy, don’t-give-a-fuck, bizarro insanity. The After Dark Horrorfest is known to have started the careers of some great talents, such as one of my favorite contemporary filmmakers Jim Mickle, so I am really crossing my fingers that some of the talent behind this title goes on to bigger things.

Lumberjack Man is more than just a parody of a slasher movie; it is truly a slasher fan’s slasher movie. The cast is big, and so is the body count. The kills are gruesome, creative, and employ fantastic practical effects (with occasional tasteful CGI embellishing). The nudity is downright rampant. I can’t remember the last time I saw this much gratuitous nudity in a horror film outside of a desperate-for-attention Troma picture (well maybe in Death-Scort Service, but that was about hookers; this is about church camp). Nearly all of the female speaking characters go topless, including adult star Andy San Dimas in a prolonged lotion scene. This film delivers the same level of fun and terror as classics Sleepaway Camp and The Burning before it, plus a ton of intentional, absurd comedy. 

The cast is a commendable ensemble of tongue-in-cheek comic swagger. Michael Madsen as the obligatory Loomis character is a riot in his loony, spaced-out delivery. Alex Dobrenko as one of the camp staff acts even more stoned than he did in Bloody Homecoming. And while the film plays with the treasure trove of humor inherent in a church camp-based slasher film, it never gives in to cynical, mean-spirited jabs at religion. Lumberjack Man does run a bit on the long side, though. Whereas normal movies of this type end around the 80-minute mark, this runs a healthy 105 minutes. It keeps up its steam, but the conventional cat-and-mouse action towards the end requires some patience to sit through.

Happy Halloween!

Quiet college bookworm Jackie is turning the big two-one this Halloween. Well, not this Halloween, but Halloween 26 years ago. Everybody except her seems to be excited about her birthday, so she inevitably gets invited to the big party that night to celebrate and plans to swing by after work and after cramming for her important exam. So the day goes by, and she lounges around her college campus, goes to work at a cool movie theater, studies, and occasionally envisions nightmarish occult-related omens that momentarily trouble her. Could the only creepy person in her life, her professor with in-depth Halloween knowledge, be the one tormenting her with this imagery for sinister purposes? It’d be a safe bet. But what certain horror will await her that night, and will she survive?

Honeyspider is an independent occult horror movie set on October 31, 1989 and immediately brings to mind two similar neo-retro horror movies. The pacing, atmosphere, and most of the content is heavily borrowed from Ti West’s seminal The House of the Devil. In fact, it is closer to being a remake to West’s film than a lot of true remakes are to their original sources. Also, the unauthentic 1980’s production/wardrobe design and the naïve lightheartedness of the film remind this viewer of the 2012 indie slasher The Sleeper. Both of these resemblances save the movie for me personally, as I love those two films very much, but there really isn’t a lot to digest with this particular movie (except spiders).

Like West’s film, and like one of its biggest criticisms from its haters, is that literally nothing happens during the first two-thirds of the runtime, at least. The difference here is that the atmosphere and sense of foreboding does not build towards the climax but rather spikes only a couple of times to remind you that the story is indeed going somewhere. The inactivity is further exaggerated by periodical extended and slow tracking shots of mundane activities. It wasn’t until the movie-within-the-movie playing at Jackie’s theater, titled “Sleepover Slaughterhouse III,” did things begin to liven up (and not just because this faux film contains half of this movie’s gore and all of its nudity). From here on in, Honeyspider delivers what the viewer has waited very patiently for.

The gore and gross-out moments that appear late in the movie are practical and well-achieved. The production design during the surreal climax amps up the spooky Halloween nature tenfold and gives the proceedings a homegrown haunted house attraction-type ambiance. The score consists of beautifully gloomy piano leads over ominous electronic drones, very evocative of classic horror films, and fun Halloween oldies like “The Monster Mash” and “Spooky Movies” (a personal favorite of this reviewer, for obvious reasons) bring the holiday’s festive spirit back into the fold. There are, however, no strong performances acting-wise and again little in the way of content that drives the movie forward.

On the eve of their spring break, three teen girls decide to throw a slumber party while the parents are away. They have also been getting strange love letters from a “secret admirer.” They’d love to think the letters are from some hunk at school, but they are most likely coming from Kort, the socially awkward geek who likes to spy on them. A full day of drinking, barbecuing, porn watching, and girl talk goes by before a stalker with a power drill and an old man mask begins to crash their party just as the cute boys start to arrive, thus commencing the nightmare.

Teenage Slumber Party Nightmare is the slick-looking follow-up to director Richard Mogg’s 80’s shot-on-video homage Massage Parlor of Death, released just a few months prior. With this film, there is a drastic change in delivery of the story. Rather than filling the feature with a continuous series of gory “unhappy endings” courtesy of the killer, Nightmare has a very slow burning build-up to its fast and bloody climax. More time is dedicated to developing characters and shedding light on the relationships between them, something that many no-budget movies don’t do enough of especially when competent actors are involved. The movie also pays a good amount of attention to the variety of locations it uses and gives the girls’ hometown a presence in the story. The story itself is also notable, being very loosely based on a real-life sorority house massacre that happened last year (2014) near UC Santa Barbara.

The three slumber partiers are as charismatic as they come and have obviously been given a lot of room for improvisation. The majority of this movie simply rolls along while our leads babble endlessly about boys and other teenage girly topics. As tedious as that may sound, the constant chitchat actually works in the movie’s favor by giving some color to the leads’ personalities instead of creating filler (something Tarantino failed to achieve with his unendurable dialog in Death Proof). The girls are charming and fun to hang around with, at least up until the horror of the movie gets into gear. The violence is very sparse which is okay, because the blood and gore are cheap and ketchup-based. It is, after all, a very cheap movie.

Die hard slasher fans may be disappointed with the lack of action in the movie, and you wouldn’t be able to blame them. While the soul of Teenage Slumber Part Nightmare lies within the girls’ rapport, it doesn’t have enough bells and whistles to keep someone who isn’t interested in mundane conversations concerned with where the movie might be heading. The director goes out on a limb to invest in the three leads’ slumber party activities but doesn’t set up any safety nets for when the viewer doesn’t get what he or she might expect from the poster art (the magnificent poster art!). As said before, the violence is brief, and there is almost no skin or sizzle (unless you count a brief shot of accidental buttcrack). Penis jokes and gratuitous dancing will have to be enough to satisfy you.

Night after night, a maniac in winter clothing orders up Las Vegas’ most tattooed call girls, usually murdering them in or near a bathtub, and staples their meat to a canvas back at home. The police won’t do anything about the slayings because they’re just hookers, right? Plus, there is no evidence the killer is leaving behind for anyone to investigate further into them. How long will it take and how many more escorts will have to die before the psychopath’s match is met?

Death-Scort Service is a simple, straight-forward, and extreme slasher movie from director Sean Donohue that is pure exploitation grime. There is no story; there is just sex, stripping, and murder, over and over again which become increasingly graphic as the movie progresses. Towards the end we do see a little bit of narrative creeping in if only for the sake of wrapping the movie up, but the majority of the runtime consists of a string of death sequences and little else. While the title pun is the only creative aspect of this movie, there is more than enough sleazy and macabre happenings to keep the viewer glued to the screen.

The gore in Death-Scort Service is splashy and meaty, thanks in part to prominent indie effects artist Marcus Koch (100 Tears). To keep the movie’s repetition from being too intolerable, each kill is different than the last, employing a different weapon of choice (carving knife, power drill, meat cleaver, etc.). The film’s other biggest sell is the sex and nudity, which almost no scene goes without. Occasionally reaching near-pornographic territory, the skin is just as prevalent as the splatter. If the intent was to hit the summit of perversity, this film does a pretty capable job at attaining it. The storytelling department may have been abandoned in pre-production, but at least no one can claim this isn’t the X-rated midnight movie you’d have to hide under your mattress this year. 

Despite being an onslaught of guts and T&A (&P&D), there are many tell-tale signs that Death-Scort Service is a very inexpensively produced feature. Examples include a living room (or perhaps bedroom) acting as a strip club and blood that clearly is being sprayed from off screen onto an injury (instead of the other way around). The acting is below average likely because most of the cast involved are amateur talent or pooled from the adult industry (porn star Evan Stone gets in a few seconds as an action movie star appearing on TV). The music is a mix of 80’s horror movie synth and dance music, working well with the theme of the movie, and many scenes look lit with neon, giving them a very Vegas-like atmosphere. 

Steve (Eamon Hardiman) is a socially awkward nerd who gets financially taken advantage of by his mother and her boyfriend. Upon her request, he finds a job at a debt collection agency, where he is immediately tormented by his co-workers (although the ladies seem to like him). Steve’s built-up frustration and victimization has created within him a psychosis which compels him to kill all the people listed on his spreadsheet who owe debt, and various random people along the way who happen to have poor credit. Meanwhile, a lesbian witch ritual is happening in a suburban home; Steve stops by to watch. One of the witches may also be an aerobics video star, but that doesn’t matter. Literally no one is safe from Steve’s spree of collecting death, and that’s what matters.

Directed by Missy Dawn and produced through Razor Sharp Studios, Steve: Death Collector initially started out as a previously shot mock trailer that set up the to-be movie as a sleazy, retro, minimalist, shot-on-video slasher movie. Upon watching the feature-length final product, however, the viewer will see that it nixes the vintage aesthetic of the trailer for a more modern look and feel (though Hardiman’s wardrobe is still off the 80’s rack). Shot in HD, in 3-D, and for under $2,000, Steve is ambitious to say the least. To say a little more, the movie is fairly adept at keeping the viewer’s attention for the entire 90 minutes despite the frequent bouts of filler material (such as Steve pouring gasoline in a single spot for, how long was it? 2 minutes? I didn’t stop to check, I was fast-forwarding) and also tossing in a few genuine moments of dry comedy and gutter-dwelling exploitation.

The majority of the cast were pulled from Razor Sharp’s last film Pig Girl, and even though that movie came out just last year, there is some noticeable improvement in the acting department here in Steve. The dialog is less amateurishly improvised, there is more interesting dynamic between characters, and a lot of the actors have unique roles instead of seeming to basically play themselves under a different name. Steve also amps up the gratuitous nudity and sex teases thanks to that unusual witchcraft tangent the movie takes about half way through. What it lacks, though, are enough likeable characters. Steve is not likeable. I kind of have to root for him, and he does get better towards the end, but he sure is a miserable puss when a rockabilly song isn’t following him around killing people.

Steve: Death Collector has a relatively high body count and some pretty show-stopping kills, including a rubber dildo strangulation to start the movie off and one of the most over-the-top body meltdowns I’ve seen in some time. The high number of different locations was refreshing, although I may just be glad the action had been taken out of the woods. There is a cool synth score that turns up only occasionally, but the soundtrack is mostly rock songs including not one but TWO Billy Idol cover tunes. Lastly and ultimately, the movie benefits most from its overall sleazy nature; although the picture quality is pristine, there is an invisible layer of filth that is covering the screen at all times.

Ruby (Michelle Kaveet) is a mad masseuse who murders her walk-in customers in order to acquire enough blood and body parts to resurrect her dead lover in a mysterious Haitian voodoo ritual. About half way through, she enlists a daytime prostitute looking for some extra “employment” to cooperate in completing her evil task faster. More massaging and murders happen.

Massage Parlor of Death is a micro-budget horror movie shot in HD and converted to VHS. If it hadn’t been for the scene featuring a modern cell phone, I would have totally thought this was an authentic shot-on-video gore flick from the 80’s or early 90’s. It is SO convincing. Director Richard Mogg nailed the look, feel, and atmosphere of those movies; and being a huge fan of this niche genre of horror, I absolutely enjoyed myself watching it. Watching the “analog” version of the movie never felt like I was taking in a gimmick but more of a different production aesthetic of the filmmakers, which really saved the movie from falling into the ever-growing pit of new movies going for that “retro” vibe.

Content-wise, Massage Parlor of Death is very repetitive for about the first third or so of its hour-long running time (a length that ALL shot-on-video horror movies should try to stick to), and the repetition and its revolving door of new victims reminded me a lot of Nick Millard’s Death Nurse and Cemetery Sisters. After the introduction of the prostitute character, the proceedings get more and more absurd, for better or worse. The flashback to Haiti scene is totally unconvincing and unnecessary and upset the momentum of the movie thus far, and the climactic voodoo ritual, while hilarious, throws away all logic and seriousness and becomes a five minute scene of total buffoonery. While not perfect or consistent, Massage Parlor is concise and effective in what it strives to be.

The acting is pretty standard for a SOV movie: abysmally entertaining. There are a number of fun and unique characters who pop up to be knocked off, and the two leads have their moments, too, but that Haitian voodoo man in the flashback annoyed the heck out of me. The singular location is simply an apartment repurposed as a massage parlor, adding even more to the movie’s dirt broke charisma. The synth music and noises are period-accurate and over-the-top, and the gore is cheap and squishy. The opening credit sequence lists the cast by first names only, and the wardrobe philosophy must have been to have everyone wear a white, button-down shirt at one point or another. Massively unusual, this movie got it all right.

Dr. Giggles uses them. The Crypt Keeper abuses them. Puns, double entendres, portmanteaus, and the like can almost be as scary as the movies they are attached to but no doubt are able to reel in an unsuspecting viewer with the sheer creative audacity of their names. Some are quite clever (New Year’s Evil), while some can be outright awful (Die-B-Que). Regardless, the resulting head shaking is often coupled with intrigue and curiosity and this is what makes these pun-tastic monikers work. This article is far from being an academic approach to the subject but merely showcases the different uses of puns and other word play related to the horror and exploitation film.

“The gore the scarier!” as they say. Herschell Gordon Lewis is no stranger to the worlds of advertising and marketing, so is it any wonder the Godfather of Gore would come up with a title such as The Gore Gore Girls? And the dining is all but fine with Gore-Met Zombie Chef from Hell.

You’ll be sure to have a truly hellish week if you join these morbid sororities. My memory of these movies are a little hazy, but Delta Delta Die! and Sigma Die! have the right idea when it comes to their names.

Who could forget the lovely people at Troma? With a whole pun-drenched catalog, you can be sure to find a humorously-titled gem or three. My personal favorites are Tromeo & Juliet, Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead (a twofer!), and DeCAMPitated.

Whether in the US or the UK, the 70s were both groovy and clever. The blaxploitation classic Blacula and Pete Walker’s Frightmare are two prime examples of grindhouse good times.

If you don’t get coal in your stocking this upcoming holiday season, maybe you’ll get some of these puns. John Russo’s Santa Claws, Dustin Mills’ Easter Casket, Lewis Jackson’s Christmas Evil, and Jordan Downey’s Thankskilling put creepy spins on the happiest times of the year.

Now of these puns I am deathly afraid. Chris Seaver’s Death O’Lantern, Deatherman (a weatherman of death), and the soon to be released as of this writing Death-Scort Service and Steve: Death Collector (“don’t pay the mortgage, he’ll put you in the morgue…age”) show us there’s always room for death.

Just roll with it. Murdercycle and Homicycle are two-wheelin’ expressways to get you 25 to life.

Like it or rot, Jörg Buttgereit’s Nekromantik and The Necro Files bring out the dead on their video boxes.

You have the day off. You can either get some R’n’R at Broken Lizard’s Club Dread or chop ‘til you drop at the local Chopping Mall.

I think we’re beginning to jump the shark here (sorry folks, no sharksploitation titles in this article!), but Zombeavers and Charles Band’s Gingerdead Man are just begging to be included.

Okay, now we’ve hit the bottom of the scare-rel. Brett Piper’s Drainiac and the horror floater Monsturd have officially ended this round of horror punmanship.

As we can see, you could make a whole Tumblr page dedicated to the use of puns in horror movies, if there isn’t already one in existence. It’s a cheap and clever way to bait the potential viewer and one that I’m sure gives the creative minds behind them something to be proud of. Until next time boils and ghouls, die-yonara! -N. Weaver

Man, it’s been a dead year so far for Cinema Stench, but I think Granny Mildred might have a home remedy for that...

Abby (Alicia Clark) is a young woman who responds to an online add posted by an elderly lady, Mildred (Donna Swensen), looking for extra assistance around the house. She is hired on the spot by the seemingly sweet yet peculiar granny, giving Abby much needed employment as well as some eye candy in Mildred’s handsome young grandson, Jace. Little does she know that strange and macabre things are happening behind locked doors. Murder, cannibalism, and necrophilia also reside in this quaint country home, and it’s only a matter of time before Abby stumbles upon Mildred’s bad side. 

Directed by Jacob Ennis and released by Bloody Earth Films, Kill, Granny, Kill is a quick little shocker in the vain of Funeral Home and Splatter Farm. The concept of having an unstable but kind-hearted old maid as a film’s villain has probably ruined me for bed and breakfasts. However, such might not be the case in this film, and it all comes down to granny Mildred. Oh, I can totally buy into that she is a granny. She does have that adorably sweet quality about her I recognize from every grandmother I’ve ever known, but the campy, B-grade nature that is so inherent in a title like this really shifts into gear when it’s time for granny to get down to the bloody business, and thus loses its tension. Old Mildred could use a bit more menace during these parts. Fairing not much better is her grandson, who displays such lack of personality that he might as well not be in the picture at all. 

As a film that can provide chills and unease, Kill, Granny, Kill falls a tad short. As a tongue-in-cheek cult film that can provide dark comedy and morbid laughter, on the other hand, it also barely misses the mark. Mildred’s one-liners as she hacks her victims with an old, rusty axe are awful (as they should be, don’t get me wrong) and very out of her character. She is not a wise-cracking, sardonic old cuss, so these puns and quips feel so unnecessary and misused. The other characters here are also pretty superficial and underwhelming but do manage to bring some life into the proceedings, like Alicia Clark’s improvised drunkenness during Abby’s sex scene and a homeless man’s wide-eyed, stuttering rant. Despite all of these things that would bring any normal movie down hard, KGK still gets by with a passing grade for being exactly what the poster art will have you expect.

The gore effects in Kill, Granny, Kill are wet, gruesome, practically achieved, and completely tasteless. I mentioned two movies in the beginning, Funeral Home and Splatter Farm. At first I was getting the feeling that there was not going to be a lot of action in this movie, much like the former. Then I was assaulted with a pretty harrowing dungeon scene that had me quickly reassess the movie’s potential, much like the latter. The film knows when to throw the left hook when you aren’t expecting it. The minimalist ambient synth score is effective for this type of picture, and there are hints of nice, Argento-style lighting that pop up here and there. And as a whole, this film is put together and directed smoothly and competently, making it an easy low-budget slasher film to enjoy without too much strain. 

VARSITY BLOOD

Football players and cheerleaders have a late night Halloween party at an abandoned lake house and get targeted by their school mascot with a bow and arrow. It’s hard to believe this silly, silly movie comes from the same talent who wrote 2013’s amazing Bloody Homecoming. Here is another high school-centered slasher movie, but one that hits all the wrong marks in the most entertaining way possible. Varsity Blood is wildly amusing thanks to its cheesy delivery and overall ineptitude. Debbie Rochon also has a small role.

MUTANTIS

Far-out swingers go into the woods and meet up with a horrible, hermaphroditic lizard-fish-bird-mutant-rapist thing. This is the creature feature equivalent of a Butthole Surfers album: strange, unpredictable, and often psychedelic. Made on the cheap and sloppily strung together, Mutantis is the most unusual and outlandishly one-of-a-kind “man-thing” movie I've seen since Creature from the Hillbilly Lagoon, or ever. Offensive but friendly, this movie can be an uproarious good time or a mind-numbingly confusing experience, depending on the viewer. 

SCREAM PARK

Employees at a closing amusement park hold an after-hours party behind locked gates, all the while a pair of masked hillbillies (one played by industrial rocker Nivek Ogre of Skinny Puppy fame) start taking out the personnel in gruesome ways. Hellraiser’s Doug Bradley also makes an appearance. Scream Park is a fun little movie with a great location and totally maniacal villains. Low on genuine scares and sticking a little too close to formula, it won’t be a classic any time soon, but it should easily entertain the die-hard fan of old-school slasher films even though it resembles more the direct-to-video slasher films of the 90’s. 

SLEDGE

A young woman stays at home watching a movie called Sledge instead of going out to party. Sledge is about wise-ass campers who get killed by a wise-ass madman with a sledgehammer, and it is hosted by a puppet. 2014 must be the Year of the Puppet on the Chinese calendar because I’ve been seeing a lot of them recently. Anyways, this movie is so unorthodox I can’t seem to wrap my head around some of the filmmakers’ decisions. This is not how you make a killer-in-the-woods movie, and it is all the better for it as it is such a treat to watch. But the filmmakers will not be taken seriously again for as long as they live.

SLAUGHTER DAUGHTER

A troubled young woman becomes a pen pal/lover to an imprisoned serial killer whom she asks for advice from on how to kill her family on her mother’s wedding day. A fairly engaging story and a supporting role from scream queen Ruby LaRocca makes this a decent watch and a nice indie psychological thriller. There is definite tension boiling throughout the movie and the mother character comes off especially despicable. Slaughter Daughter may not be a movie to rally all the friends around, but it is a bloody and effective little revenge movie.

DISCOPATH

A man whose traumatic childhood created a terrible aversion to rhythmic music goes on a murderous rampage during the height of the disco era. Part giallo and part grindhouse trash, Discopath is a brief French Canadian effort to create an interesting slasher premise with a 70’s/80’s retro vibe. It has a hard time finding its own identity with all the throwbacks to various styles and genres and its short running time, but it is stylish, the music is funky, and it’s just the kind of thing you know you’re going to watch after simply reading the title and tagline. 

TIME TO KILL

This one is a bit confusing, but I think it’s a revenge movie. It must be, because it has a bad-ass lady with machetes, sixties-sounding music, a cool car, and a shady strip joint. It also has a really, really long smoking scene and an intermission. Come to think of it, Time to Kill has a LOT of filler. Thankfully, it’s hilarious and doesn’t feel too hindered by the overused “grindhouse” look it employs. I remember it made people (i.e. couples) uncomfortable with its tastelessly dopey sleaze when I first saw it, which I guess is a testament to its value as underground art. Debbie Rochon also has a small role.

HER NAME WAS TORMENT

Dustin Mills’ erotic, art house torture flick paints a portrait of Patient 394, a masked woman who tortures a young man to death by removing body parts, through a series of flashbacks and psychological case study footage. Not a traditional narrative-driven film, HNWT is a grisly look at a truly menacing and very original monster. The film as a whole feels more like an introduction or exposé of the main character rather than a feature length movie (a planned two sequels only confirms this suspicion), but it has an effective, other-worldly atmosphere about its horror that cannot be denied.

HI-8

Tara is a twenty-six year old woman who is making a video project of sorts, exploring her fondness of the Christmas season and her hatred for men. She is also a serial killer who seeks male victims during the month of December. While everyone else is out shopping for loved ones and drinking eggnog, Tara lures men to her large home, binds them to a chair, and tortures them to death. We spend time listening to Tara detail her traumatic family and school life and watch her sadistically torment a young fellow she brought home from town.

What we have here is another entry in the “found footage” style of filmmaking (fifteen years since The Blair Witch Project is a long time to keep calling it a “trend”), this time featuring a charismatic serial killer with a bit of a vanity problem, much like Julian Richards’ The Last Horror Movie but on a smaller scale and with a narrower scope. Also much like this film, there is a great disparity between the charming nature and attractiveness of Red Christmas’ killer/host and its graphic portrayal of violence. Even though I may have some gripes with the film being a found footage, the angle it takes by developing intimacy with such a terrible criminal (as corny as she sometimes can be in this instance) draws the viewer in with more pull than it would have from the victim’s point-of-view. I have recently seen two other films that similarly spotlight a psychopath as their subject and narrator, namely Jason Koch’s 7th Day and Henry Weintraub’s Killing Me, and the morbid desire to follow a heinous murderer around never quells. I guess that’s why true crime TV programs and books are always so popular.

Amie Wrenn does a very fine job as the sympathetic yet severely unhinged Tara. She is also adorable. She’s got that girl-next-door meets excitably awkward weird kid quality about her character down to a T. There are also some nice subtle leaks illustrating her irrational dark half sprinkled throughout the movie, such as the contradictory statements and actions she makes. Tara mentions the root of her psychosis is from the poor treatment she received from males growing up, but when she reminisces of her female peers she states “I’m not going to blame them for something that I did.” She also points out the precautions she takes to avoid being caught by the FBI, yet she is filming herself and everything she is doing for… who exactly? There’s some deep stuff popping up here and there with her, but the majority of the film delivers what you came here for: humor, puns, and bloody mayhem.

The puns are awful. Next, the humor is very typical of director Steve Rudzinski’s movies, i.e. usually pop-culture oriented, high spirited, and/or self-referencing. Rudzinski’s cameo is a great example of the latter as Tara yells “Get outta my way, you fucking hack!” I was rolling. The violence, when it appears, comes from a different plane of existence entirely; it is brutal as all hell. Even the now-cliché fingernail torture that appears in every torture horror film is nasty and unflinching. The make-up effects are a little rubbery, but the bodily harm is so exceedingly gruesome that it takes any attention away from the make-up and directs it towards the act itself. Red Christmas isn't all blood and guts, but it ain’t no picnic either. 

Bobby, Alison, Kyle, and Danny are former little league teammates who, after a drunken nighttime baseball game, decide to take a trip to their coach’s cabin in the woods to hold a fifteen-year anniversary memorial to their coach and two other friends who were brutally murdered by an unstable teammate named Billy. Unaware of Billy’s return and his subsequent slaughter of the remaining teammates around town, our four heroes spend time hiking through cemeteries, getting arrested by a crazy-eyed sheriff, and tripping out on psychedelic mushroom chocolate bars (“I’m on drugs!”) until they become the targets of the catcher’s mask-wearing mental patient, armed to the teeth with a nail-spiked baseball bat (not a billy club, contrary to the title), who is bent on revenge.

After starting off with awkward montages featuring the killer, Billy Club quickly continues on a normal slasher movie trajectory. It is set in the mid-1990’s, but thankfully does not bash the viewer over the head with unnecessary nostalgia and retrophilia. Superficially, it is a typical slasher movie that plays it safe with humor and sporadic violence, focusing on attention-grabbing, onscreen action as opposed to building dread and well-timed scares. However, an eye trained to spot the subtleties of this horror subgenre will notice a charming uniqueness throughout the film, specifically in each characters’ personalities and the uninhibited improbabilities the plot presents.

I’m a sucker for movies with a diverse cast of characters. It’s really the first thing I look forward to when watching a new film, especially a slasher film. Slasher films rely heavily on body count, and body count consists entirely of, you guessed it, characters. Too often do horror movies fill their body counts with individuals the writer never bothered developing upon, so it’s nice to see a movie like Billy Club pay a little bit more attention and give a little bit more depth to those populating its tale. I admit that in the beginning I feared the main cast were going to be a chore to spend time with, but they grew on me and ended up being fun to watch once the second act started. There is a nice balance with the cast. The straight-faced Bobby and Alison bring a good balance against Kyle and Danny’s goofball antics, and the sheriff and raving loony characters execute that over-the-top campiness no good killer-on-the-loose flick should be without nicely.

Even though the characters were written well, the same cannot be said about the story and its originality. This to me is of secondary importance in a slasher film, but when the red herrings and the killer’s identity are able to be spotted a mile away, one begins to wonder whether the story has enough strength to keep an audience interested. I will state that Billy Club does a good job taking its time weaving the killer’s back story through intermittent flashbacks, helping maintain what small mystery the film has until its climactic and cleverly revealed twist. The practical gore effects are achieved very well, but only appear occasionally and not often enough to call this a gory movie. With exception of the opening montages, the film has good direction and crystal clear photography, both to an extent reflecting the straightforward filmmaking techniques of nineties horror. Finally, the film wraps up with one of the most hilarious yet apathetically self-defeating endings of any masked killer movie in recent memory. I really, really want to spoil it, but I won’t.

Jimmy (Josh Suire) is a science wiz and self-proclaimed genius who is eager to show Jennifer (Meredith Host), the young woman whom he is tutoring and has a crush on, his new “mind-expanding” formula. Unfortunately, Jimmy is a magnet for bullying by his peers and family. One day, he becomes the target of a humiliating and cold-blooded prank by Jennifer and her friends that leaves him without a penis and, more importantly, exposes him to his experimental concoction. After recovering, he discovers that his formula has given him the power of telekinesis and that his sister’s weekend party might be the perfect opportunity to don an evil clown mask and exact his revenge on his tormentors.

Evil Night is Chris (Phantom of the Grindhouse) Seaver’s remake of Todd Jason Cook’s nineties shot-on-video splatter classic. Well, I’m assuming it’s a classic. As much a fan as I am of nineties SOV horror, I don’t know if I have ever heard of the original film before learning of this remake, or if I did then I must have ashamedly brushed it off as another killer-in-a-clown-mask flick. At any rate, the yarn Evil Night weaves is no doubt a classic in itself, of the tortured nerd who seeks revenge after one heinous prank too many (frankly my last straw would have been being doused with urine, but I guess Jimmy has more temperance than that), much in the tradition of Carrie, The Toxic Avenger, and Slaughter High but with more boob jokes.

The dialog is hilariously vulgar, the violence is nasty and bloody, and there is gargantuan cleavage all over the place. The character of Jimmy, while over-the-top in his nerdiness, is a riot and easy to root for, as all cinematic nerds should be. And while really only present for necessity, the bullies carry a fair share of the movie along with their despicability and mammary-centrism, although Jennifer does succeed at being more sympathetic. The kills may be inconsistent in terms of inventiveness but are always messy, and the comedy keeps things relatively light-hearted considering the body count. All of this sets the pace of the film on full speed, edited very well, and is without a single grueling moment, unless the very specific humor doesn't catch you.

The look of Evil Night is surprisingly professional considering its obviously meager resources. The photography is even and the image is crystal clear – no muddy VHS grain here, folks! But as great as the movie looks and as watchable as it is, there are a few things I thought were missing. First, it would have been so great if this movie had a score, its own theme. If it was in there somewhere, I missed it. Movies like this usually have an oppressively overused musical piece that is sorely absent in Evil Night. Second, an extra 20 minutes in length might have boosted the viewing experience. This film is only 55 minutes long. Typically regarding independent and especially shot-on-video horror films, a brief running time is a godsend, but here I think a normal feature length could have been achieved with a little more storytelling. Lastly, the characters are all so over-the-top, but only a small handful are fleshed out (figuratively speaking). This movie definitely has some character-driven moments. I care about Jimmy; I care about Jennifer. But I kind of wanted to care about, or at least learn about, the others as well.