⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2
Pennsylvania-shot slasher from Bill Hinzman (the man who banked on his performance as the original graveyard zombie in Romero’s Night of the Living Dead) and adapted from the moderately readable novel by John A. Russo… by himself… so he has nobody else to blame. A hooded psychopath in camo is taking out large-haired members of a high school cheerleading squad while the small town sheriff with killer sunglasses to compliment his creepstache and a county detective with a perm to compliment his creepstache get their investigating on whilst butting heads. But that’s not all. Wrapped up in the plot is a greedy nurse (naturally named Helga) looking to knockoff her wealthy employer and the old lady’s sweet granddaughter so she can collect on a piece of the inheritance and her creepy janitor son is also hanging around. He has stumbled upon a clue to the perpetrator of the cheerleader slayings thanks to his creepin’ and peepin’ on the high school girls in their locker room. This will be very important for a last-act twist. There’s also the least threatening biker gang in Pennsylvania history calling the town home and definitely getting into malevolent shenanigans, complicating everything and making it hard for law enforcement to prevent further deaths for the youthful dopes. Teen pregnancy, sexual assault, religious confusion and drug pushing also stain the runtime like a Keystone shit smear. Perverts, sadists, rapists, racists, pedos and every other despicable kind of asshole pollute the run time and definitely raise some concerns about just how terrible Pennsylvania was in the eighties. A fascinating level of pessimism about humanity is made sleazier by the inability of the filmmakers to harness professionalism and comes off a bit nauseating in the vibe that Hinzman probably had an erection the whole time he was making the damn thing. That’s all conjecture on my part, but between this and Flesheater, I probably wouldn’t introduce him to any member of my family. It’s not a good film but I don’t want my regional eighties slasher flick to be good, I want to need a very hot shower to clean the grime off afterwards... and this trash oddity delivers on that front. Performances range between “trying way too hard” and “should definitely try harder”… which is probably a good thing because if this flick was anywhere near convincing it would be rendered unwatchable. Slit throats come off as lazy outside of an exception here and there and the splatter never comes close to being over the top… which makes it worse for the soul. It drags a bit when it’s not focusing on the hilariously unconvincing badass bikers (Do you remember the gang of “street toughs” Tobias Fünke hired in Arrested Development after opening up his own club? That’s exactly who they reminded me of.), the local wood-paneled hangouts and the stilted police investigation but you’re always just a few minutes away from “colorful” weirdos getting up to tomfoolery and unconvincing teenagers getting naked and being dramatic. It runs way too long, like some elderly weirdo on an afternoon stroll who continues walking in odd directions but not because he’s taking in the sights and participating in the spirit of adventure. No, it’s because syphilis has eaten his brain and he has no idea what his destination was or where he should be stumbling. He’ll get there eventually but it’s a needlessly long trip. If you’re in the market for a solid slasher, you should look elsewhere but if you feel like taking a swim in a Pennsylvania swamp made of poor decisions and awful humans, jump right in… I’ll join ya for the slasher/biker/rape-revenge stupidity and we can both get an uninvited back rub from some dive bar patron who takes ice in his glass of Miller Lite.
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