Almost Invisible (2010) (USA)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I can’t say for sure if 2010 was around the actual time this flick was filmed but I get a vibe it was brought to life nearly a decade earlier. It could just be that time is a little wonky in Virginia, I’ve only been to West Virginia and that was to see some Mothman cheeks… so I’m no expert. With her parents out of town, goth loner April invites some community college dopes to her house to party but she watches from the sidelines as the annoying dinks act like asses. Only focusing on one boy in the group who maybe likes her or maybe doesn’t… any elements of a plan can only be guessed at because I don’t even think this movie knew what the hell it was doing. When the house begins to trap most of the crew inside and then maybe begins to kill off the collective of future drains on society, we’re all left shrugging. If the credits didn’t clue you in on what kind of budget, or lack thereof, was going to be on display (the credits are reverse film of a girl writing the names of the cast and title on index cards), the lack of urgency will surely shine a light on just how inept this will be. A local stripper provides buck-naked nudity in the opening, the bewbs are part of a film one student is showing in his psych class. Credit where credit is due, it definitely looks like something a student would make. Dialogue happens, sometimes audible, sometimes not, never important. This group may have been around when someone died, that may have something to do with April’s invite… or maybe that was the future? Maybe April is a ghost? Maybe everyone is already dead and there’s bikinis in the afterlife? I don’t know. I don’t care. The team behind this didn’t care, so why should I? I don’t know. Frantic editing, “interesting” editing choices and the loosest definition of cinematography one can use combine into a mash of disinterest, disappointment and dysfunction. April goes on the roof, everyone else goes in the pool and the film kind of just goes wherever the hell it wants to. Unfortunately none of those places are all that entertaining… just not by the standards one who calls themselves of fan of cinema follows. After an opening stretch that may have been directed and shot by a horny child with no discernible talent or friends, it turns into a horror film that may have been done by someone who read the definition of “horror” and then accidentally fell headfirst on a running power drill which penetrated deep into their skull. Also, the kid was still super horny but growing more confused by the minute. There’s a ceiling-crawling shadow entity, a complete soundtrack of shitty music that sounds like slightly off versions of more famous shitty music, a door to oblivion, the worst car accident in film history, a collection of people whose names I wouldn’t be able to recall at gunpoint, a plot that feels incredibly busy yet completely void of any substance and special effects provided by the new students of Ms. Vekner’s Filmmaking 101 course. I think someone saw The Craft and confused it for a teen sex comedy and then decided to remake Carrie but confused it with The Amityville Horror and finally just mashed together a stream-of-consciousness script based off of all of their film confusion and some of the most boring dreams anyone could ever have. I hate it but I love it and hate myself for not being able to look away. I can’t recommend this, nobody should recommend this but I really want to recommend this and see if I’m right or just insane. Don’t see this but definitely watch it as soon as you can. Virginia, what the hell is wrong with you?

Night of Terror (1933) (USA)

aka He Lived to Kill/Terror in the Night 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

I really hope any inheritance I ever receive has the stipulation attached that I have to spend the night in some haunted piece of property. I doubt it will be the case, as any relative that could have possibly had a secret mansion located out in the mountains of Transylvania (or even Pennsylvania) has long since shuffled this mortal coil… but I can dream. The heirs in this case have to attend a séance in an old family mansion so they can get to the bottom of everything going on. And since Bela Lugosi is hanging around the Rinehart Estate, acting all sinister, there’s a good chance bad things are gonna go down. A disfigured maniac is murdering people after the sun goes down and he breaks into the Rinehart Estate as one Dr. Hornsby works in his lab. We learn through a conversation with the elderly Richard Rinehart that this man of science plans on being buried alive for… SCIENCE!!!! Bela Lugosi tries to warn any Rinehart that will listen to him about the dangers of “MURDER!” but everyone just brushes it off. Too bad because Richard ends up being one more of the maniac’s victims. His death brings Richard’s estranged brother and sister-in-law to the house and there’s a premonition of more death from his loyal servants. Which is nice, because the funds left to those who end up dead gets transferred to the folks still standing. The gorgeous Sally Blane is Hornsby’s fiancée and Richard’s daughter, Mary. The only family member that Richard cared for. Not one to let grief get in the way of SCIENCE!!!, professor Hornsby allows himself to be buried alive to carry on with whatever bullshit he’s working on. The directions are to dig him up in eight hours and promptly inject him with a restorative agent. More bodies drop and the séance finally goes down. The always welcome Wallace Ford is a reporter with the hots for Sally Blane (don’t blame him) and a motor mouth because it’s Wallace Ford and he’s one of the few “funny men” from this time I actually enjoy (Yes. You can thank me and my Mom watching The Mummy’s Hand on a loop in my youth for that). It’s undoubtedly charming and it may drag somewhat but it’s more fun than anything. It also has a threat from the maniac at the end to warn us not to spoil the ending… who doesn’t love that?

Squatch (2026) (USA)

⭐️⭐️

A scoutmaster shares the area legends of the giant hairy men said to roam the lands with his spooked charges. That night something big attacks their tent and the scoutmaster is dragged off. The gang of kiddos make it to a nearby cabin where one of the adults there heads off into the dark with a loaded shotgun at the insistence of the other guy sharing the cabin with him. He and his dog don’t make it. We then jump to present day Detroit where our blandly handsome hero Nick Peters wakes up to find his mom moping over medical bills. Solemn music lets us know that these are the kind of bills that ruin living conditions… so just your standard American medical bills. Those guys are the real fucking monsters. *Hold for applause* *Allow for standing ovation* Nick picks up a cutie before work and then gets word from his boss that a lawyer is looking for him. Turns out his estranged father has passed away and he’s been left some land and a cabin up north. Because he doesn’t really want anything to do with the man or his legacy, Nick initially refuses his inheritance but following the encouragement from his mama and the cutie named Cassie he is crushing on, he decides to give it a look. Helps that Cassie offers to take the trip with him. That’s like a perfect scenario for consensual smooching. Cassie knows the legends of the area and references the boyscout encounter we saw in the opening. She’s hyped as hell to go Squatch hunting… what a lady! The lawyer manages to run over a baby bigfoot (I think) as he attempts to find the cabin in the dark and big bastard ain’t at all happy about it, although judging by the movie’s opening, Bigfoot is pissed off anyways. Upbeat butt-pop plays as the youths drive through fall foliage that doesn’t match the interior driving scenes but I’m not a stickler for such things. Cassie takes time out to take some snaps which drags out to a long scene of camera snapping noises followed by black and white photos and a deer encounter. Cassie manages to coax the wild animal over to lick her hand. She claims she’s always been able to connect with the animal kingdom. I’d dismiss Cassie but the proof is in the Hallmark knockoff moment I just witnessed. They spot a squatch through Cassie’s phone and then discover the lawyer’s abandoned and blood-stained car (he took a boulder to the cranium) on the way up. Thrown rocks get Nick to put an end to his search for the car’s owner and the two dopes drive off. They stay in a hotel room to get their bone on and then instead of going home like they had planned, Nick learns there’s a whole bunch of money on the line with the catch that he has to spend one night in the cabin. Cassie refuses to let him do it alone… what a lady! The local sheriff is a dick and covering shit up. The two finally make it to the cabin after a stretch of spending time in the small town nearby that features real locals… I assume. To the shock of nobody, it turns out the man who died looking for the scoutmaster in the opening was Nick’s father. Nick’s mom shows up because she’s worried and then Bigfoot attacks as dramatic music plays while the North American forest ape acts all aggressive. Things come to a close with gasoline, an emergency cigarette and a hilarious flaming climax. Coming off like a lazy holiday movie you’d find on Freeform that wasn’t exactly good enough for Lifetime and wouldn’t even have been looked at by Hallmark… but this time instead of tree farms and bakeries with financial issues, it’s a cabin in the woods and a man-slaying Sasquatch. That’s a comfort zone I’m ashamed of having. There’s also a rear-projected Bigfoot car chase and it’s one of the greatest/saddest things I’ve seen in a long time. So I guess you could say it’s good but not by any effort on its part. Also, I’m a fan of the Bigfoot looking like some sweaty hybrid of an Appalachian Wildman and Neanderthal.

Psycho Cop Returns (1993) (USA)

aka Psycho Cop 2

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

The vaguely remembered satanic police officer is back and although I don’t know if anyone had asked for a sequel, I have no problem watching Bob Vance… Vance Refrigeration getting his hands dirty with a fresh batch of victims. The serial quipper/killer overhears a few slimy businessmen talking about an afterhours party they’ll be throwing in their office. Said bachelor party will have strippers (Julie Strain works her magic!) booze and drugs… which catches the ear of the (I think) undead cop Joe Vickers. Instead of slapping on cuffs and dragging perpetrators downtown, he’s more of a fan of murdering those he deems guilty of his wrath. Just like a real cop! Which is fine, these dopes are kinda scuzzy, it’s the poor strippers you end up sympathizing with. Also, I mean, it’s Julie Fuckin’ Strain. There’s also a security guard willing to take bribes to look the other way, a hard working blonde who may be an accountant burning the midnight oil and two employees there afterhours to get their bone on in the copy room because if early 90’s business movies taught me anything, the bedroom is the only place horny people don’t have sex. Also, everyone is doing some kind of illegal substance to compliment their drinking problem… but that’s actually accurate. A pencil gets jammed into an eye, an elevator goes all wonky and leads to an office worker doing his best (and failing) to make it look like he’s being tossed around, strippers act like prostitutes (or is it possible they’re prostitutes acting like strippers?), sweaty sex is had (an HVAC team needs to check the vents in that file room), Psycho Cop reads a corpse his rights after shooting him in the forehead, a stripper (prostitute?) gets tossed off the building… right into a dumpster, plenty of faxes of faces are sent, a xerox machine gets put to good use, a drop ceiling harnesses supernatural powers with its ability to conceal two corpses (I used to install them, take my word for it), one dope channels his best Ted Raimi and even an axe to the belly can’t stop our killer. Psycho Cop has a passenger seat and glove compartment full of severed limbs which is exactly what I’d expect a psycho cop to have in his car. Julie Strain strips because she was a very talented woman, the lead douche looks like a Scott Bakula you tried to create as a playable wrestler in an N64 WWF game … Not Bakula if you will, there’s a stag film that appears to just be some dude in an afro wig sitting in a chair while two topless women dance and Psycho Cop has a little joke for every situation… which is exactly what I’d expect from someone slaughtering idiots in a slasher film from this time, especially someone who looks this much like an uncle you loved seeing at family parties. Robert R. Shafer is having a good time as the titular killer, Julie Strain rocks a cowboy hat and chaps (worth two and a half stars alone), the stupidity is more charming than annoying and everyone treats it like they’re in a demented comedy as opposed to a horror film which I’m completely fine with. The inverse Rodney King climax is… a choice.

Psycho Cop (1989) (USA)

⭐️⭐️1/2

Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration is a Devil-worshipping man with a badge and he sets his homicidal sights on six partying college kids on a weekend vacation. The youthful idiots are shaking things up at a pleasant country house they’ve been able to snag thanks to smart investments. A denim-clad caretaker with a memorable head of hair is on the property to give the new inhabitants a tour, carry an axe and be the most interesting of the would-be-victims for all the wrong reasons. Shame that trusty axe gets planted in his noggin almost immediately. The derps come across some creepy crosses set up in the woods and blame the missing caretaker. The group wants to leave but one of them is reassured by our favorite psycho cop that everything is fine, so they stay on to get their asses murdered. Laura and Doug are a couple of the interchangeable tools that think something strange is going on but they’re ignored in favor of partying and complaining. These morons can’t die fast enough. Robert R Shafer cackles and tosses out lame one-liners as he pops his eyes and murders some real white-bread victims. He’s pretty wonderful and makes every moment he is on screen count. Unfortunately, he’s not constantly on screen. Stolen beers, soup, insufferable yuppies, something akin to “acting” but not quite there and brief bits of poorly-constructed violence bring everything to a level of meh that is somehow a little more fun than it should be. Luckily we’d get more Shafer in a superior sequel.

The Monster of the Volcano (1963) (Mexico)

⭐️⭐️⭐️

A yeti with hypnotic powers is terrorizing the mountains of rural Mexico. Something the locals believe to be the Lord of the Volcanoes or some shit who watches over a supposed treasure hidden by the Aztecs. I should mention that the subtitles for this flick were done by an idiot who probably fell asleep several times, so I’m kinda piecing together this plot based on what the idiot could be bothered to translate, my diminishing grasp on the beautiful Spanish language and my knowledge of monster flicks. So if I’m off, please feel free to write me an angry letter, transcribe it onto some thick poster board, fold it about ten times over and shove it right up your pooper. Some business types are in the area and probably up to no good, they don’t seem to care all that much when some employees go missing and the men start pointing to the monster on the mountain. The town doctor’s sexy daughter fills a group of men in on the history of the beast… maybe, it seems like she and her father have plenty to say on the subject but whoever was piecing together the subtitles must have dozed off again… hope it wasn’t important. There’s a sacred medallion in the doctor’s possession which definitely is of some importance and it catches the eye of one of the sleazy businessmen. The doctor refuses to sell at any price. That night a hypnotic call is received by the daughter and she wanders out into the mountains stuck in a trance to go meet the fluffy yeti in a cave. She’s not the only woman there… there are several brides of the yeti… or maybe they’re just former lovers displayed like trophies. I can’t say for sure because even if subtitles pop up, there’s no guarantee they articulate anything actually being said. While this silliness is going down, the doctor’s son loses a bunch of money while gambling. It seems it’s all part of a scheme for that rich scumbag to get his hands on that medallion, which may also be a key to the hidden treasure. A hunting party travels into the mountains and discover the corpse of a worker we watched become the Yeti’s punching bag in the opening, so they guess they’re on the right path. A boulder-tossing monster confirms their suspicions. Greed is causing all the problems and I’ve got a feeling those slime bags will get what’s coming to them. Of course, considering the creatures hypnotic hold on the daughter (who kind of looks like Chyna during her time with Eddie Guerrero), the monster may not be all that benevolent anyways. Solid enough monster movie featuring a creature that looks like he’d be more comfortable terrorizing Doctor Who during the Troughton era. There’s some family drama to add intrigue and enough sleazy assbags to root against. The climactic battle between hero and yeti is pure trash bliss thanks to a level of lameness you just can’t harness purposefully.

Monster on the Campus (1958) (USA)

aka Monster in the Night/Stranger on the Campus 

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

Dunsfield University professor Dr. Donald Blake (no, not Thor) gets his hands on a coelacanth specimen and thanks to the damn prehistoric fish’s blood being irradiated with gamma rays, it royally fucks up his life. We already know the blood has a nasty kick when it transforms a loyal pooch into a savage beast after it laps up some tainted water and also causes a dragonfly to grow to a prehistoric size. Well, Dr. Blake cuts his finger on the dead fish’s tooth and immediately accidentally splashes it with the water from the thawed storage ice in the crate the big-ass ugly fish arrived in. That’s a bad move for any scientist, even a paleontologist. Now, because radiation is a fickle mistress, Dr. Blake begins to transform into a Neanderthal with a taste for murder. Ooooph. This is why science doesn’t belong in universities. The cops hunt a hairy killer as Blake keeps transforming (don’t ya hate it when giant dragonfly blood drips into your pipe?) and bodies start piling up. Whit Bissell shows up to further cement my enjoyment and there’s a monster rocking flannel and wielding a hatchet. Come on now, that’s just quality entertainment. Fun flick from creature feature maestro Jack Arnold is my kind of monster matinee that holds a special place in this monster kid’s heart thanks to my dad tracking it down years ago when I was just a little weirdo because I had really wanted to see it after a trailer popped up on some vhs tape I had. That’s the same reason I have a whole lotta love for The Black Scorpion too.