Satan’s Bed (1986) (Indonesia)

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Skid row A Nightmare on Elm Street from Indonesia delivers the goods... in between stretches of tedium. A family is shotgunned to death on Christmas Eve (dad manages to hold onto his cigarette like a champ) back in 1941. We jump ahead to what I assume is the 80s and follow a group of friends. Said friends goof around while traveling in a Jeep, their tomfoolery almost leads to them running over a man on a bike and our leading lady Maria sees a vision of three little girls in white, jumping rope. Bad dreams turn dangerous and a vague familiarity haunts the runtime when scenes aren’t directly ripping off its American predecessor. Of course, here, Freddy turns out to be the devil himself and is assisted by a succubus and there’s also a mentally challenged caretaker who resembles Steve Buscemi and creeps around the place. This time around Fred Krueger dresses in messy white clothes, looks like someone threw up on his face and rocks a razor-tipped monster hand instead of a glove, he also removes his head quite a bit. I dig him. A girl is murdered in a shirt that reads “This Is My SEXY T-Shirt” and her boyfriend is blamed for the crime... just like in that other movie only instead of dying in his jail cell he is lured to an empty house by a succubus and has his throat slashed by Fred’s monster hand. He’s then found hanging outside of Maria’s house. A shaman stops by to battle with Fred and his gal pal, he ends up getting bit in the crotch by the severed head of the succubus. Another shaman is called in and fares no better. Eventually, that dude they almost ran over with their car shows up sporting a giant crucifix and saves the day. There’s an abundance of dullness to wade through but everything is ten times better when our dollar-store Fred Crooger is on the screen. The dream angle is kind of brushed over and the film mines Poltergeist for its climax. My copy was in French, I don’t speak French but I know more French than Indonesian so I would have been lost either way. It’s a damn shame we didn’t get a franchise.

Cry of the Banshee (1970) (UK)

⭐️⭐️⭐️

In 1500s England, Lord Edward Whitman (Vincent Price, perfect as usual) is a cruel magistrate who gets his sick kicks torturing “witches” under the guise of doing the Lord’s work along with his group of loyal ass-hats. Upon gleefully massacring a coven, the coven’s leader Oona calls upon the titular supernatural horror to get some much-deserved revenge on the man and his clan of scumbags. The upper class gets what’s coming to them as a curse tears through the house of Whitman in the form of a very goofy creature (sadly kept off screen for far too much of the runtime). There’s a level of sleaze vibrating through the whole thing as sexual perversion and assault seems to be the focal point of the witch hunting and just the personal tastes of most of the Whitman clan. Which, yeah, most of the church-sanctioned atrocities definitely had their hands soaked in sexual deviancy. Harry Whitman returns home from college along with the new perish priest and both are expected to join the Lord in stamping out the imagined evil running rampant in the village up until an actual evil force arrives to take care of a much worse evil power. Sadly, supernatural revenge takes a bit of a backseat to family melodrama and the growing awfulness of the rapists who really need a good killin’. Like a period piece werewolf drama with a more spectral slant and Vincent Price. So, it’s impossible to dislike but admittedly a bit stuffy and overdramatic.

Gore Whore (1994) (USA)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Final entry in Hugh Gallagher’s unrivaled shot-on-analog-video gore trilogy is the lo-fi masterpiece of the whole “American Nekromantik”. Taking nothing away from the prior outings (1993’s spellbinding trash odyssey and Ghetty Chasun powerhouse showpiece Gorotica and 1990’s Gorgasm which is equally magical but lacking the intensity that Ghetty Chasun brought to everything), Gore Whore adds a level of otherworldliness-on-shoestring-budget that I just adore. Sadly, we had to trade Ghetty Chasun in the deal but I’ll try to look past it. Luckily, Audrey Street is another fearless female lead and makes the transition much easier. Dr. Whitman has been robbed of his breakthrough formula and pertinent documents by his lab assistant. Private dick (and someone I wouldn’t trust with taking out the garbage) Chase Barr (beloved Brady Debussey who nearly stole the show in Gorotica and played Helvis himself in Damselvis, Daughter of Helvis) is hired by the doctor to get his shit back. Well, Barr gets to investigating and discovers that the assistant is actually a dead whore and the formula is a regenerating agent that this undead lady of the night needs to keep her corpse-ass alive. The formula (injected with a dildo attachment to the large syringe into… well, you know where) doesn’t work on its own, it also necessitates the consumption of human blood. Luckily, our undead hooker knows where to find plenty of dopes willing to let her into their homes for a quick bang session, so there’s more than a couple cadavers piling up. Desperate to hold onto the only thing keeping her scrambling about the earth, Dawn reanimates the dead to attack the man tracking her down. An opening erotic dance for a bored scuzzball by a pencil-thin girl ends with his penis being bitten off and blood spraying everywhere. This would be horrifying if we didn’t know it was inevitable. She manages to chew his head off too but that’s the fate of any dope dumb enough to take a mysterious woman to bed in these flicks. This is the world Gallagher has built for us and we’re stuck for as long as he decides. Audio and visual remains in the barrel where it should be, and the loosest definition of “hero” is fitted nicely to our long-haired gumshoe with a troubled past. Collateral damage, trauma to the genitals and an aimless nightmare scenario is perfectly acceptable on this forbidden journey through a world we shouldn’t be a part of. A severed head shouting orders to its headless body (brought to terrible life by green screen magic) is just one pit stop on this journey. Our hero punting the severed head into a pond is the perfect punchline. An empty club and a musical trio dishing out awful comedy before dying at Dawn’s hands and getting resurrected serves as a climax that feels more offensive than an anti-climax, it feels like a purposeful “fuck you” to the audience but I don’t see how it could have gone any other way. There’s still the “big” reveal to come but that seems more like an excuse to see the doctor’s hairy ass and to throw in an axe dismemberment. Again, I don’t think we should have expected anything different. Gallagher has a way of making all his films feel like the back page personals of a questionable porno magazine imagined to visual life by the addled brain of a sociopathic sex pest. There is nothing like it and if you can get comfortable with the diseased wavelength the whole thing operates on, you’ll find yourself in the wrong kind of paradise. In the span of time between this final outing and his first piece of the unconnected trilogy, Gallagher didn’t so much grow as a filmmaker as he did fester. There’s almost nothing like it.

Gorotica (1993) (USA)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Fucked up people collide as some fucked up situations escalate in Hugh Gallagher's nihilistic follow up to the entertaining as all hell Gorgasm. Two low-rent thieves flee into the night with a bag of stolen goods. A large jewel seems to be their main target and with the heat closing in, one of the crooks swallows the gem and ditches the rest. A cop stops them and a quick shoot out leads to a dead officer and a badly injured criminal. His buddy Neil steals a car from an extremely drunk man and loads his partner into the car, trying to come up with a plan of action. As Neil and Max flee in a stolen vehicle, the super foxy Carrie watches a continuous barrage of images of corpses and masturbates on her bed. She gets off with the help of a skull. You may say "Brennan. Why the fuck did you bring that up out of nowhere?" Trust me. It's important to know that she's into some freaky shit. Neil heads to the solitude of a cemetery to figure things out and discovers Max has passed on, Carrie is also at this cemetery for reasons I can only assume involve the recently deceased. She notices Neil but more importantly she notices the freshly deceased Max and she has an idea. Promising Neil a safe place to crash and a means of disposing the body, she offers her help. Neil agrees but we'll find out pretty damn quick that Carrie has an ulterior motive. Ya see, Carrie is a necrophiliac and she is jonesing to get to boning the fresh corpse she's just miraculously stumbled upon. When Neil heads out to make a phone call to try and sell off the jewel, Carrie has some steamy shower sex with the dead dude they've placed in her bath tub. Neil finds out he’ll be able to get some cash and when he returns he finds Carrie cutting his dead friend's hair and kissing the cold cadaver. He roles with it, knowing he's just gotta get through another day then he'll be getting the hell out of town. Of course, nothing could possibly be that easy. Carrie has other plans for Max now that he's begun to stink. She gives him a farewell fuck and then calls an acquaintance of hers. She knocks Neil out with a skull when he tries to cut open the corpse to get to the jewel and then drags Max's remains to her contact's house. Why is she bringing the body there? Well, you may want to sit down. Her contact is some cape-wearing creep who she supplies corpses to because he has AIDS. Worried about being imprisoned for spreading the horrible disease, he figures it's just easier to have his way with already decomposing partners. On top of the corpse fucking, he pays Carrie some extra cash to dress up in leather and whip him as he has his way with the dead. Tennessee is lit as fuck, yo! More cops are killed along the way and eventually Neil confronts his perverted antagonists and it all climaxes the only way it ever could: With Neil murdering an AIDS-infected-corpse-fucker, getting covered in his blood, shooting Carrie in the head and then planning his own suicide by immolation in a seedy motel room. Yay? Ghetty Chasun as Carrie throws everything into her performance and flinches from nothing. This film is anchored by her presence and bravery. The acting everywhere else is a little rocky, slipping between pure camp and boredom. It doesn't matter in the least though, thanks to the story that just spins out of control from the get-go. Hugh Gallagher continues to impress and fortunately found a powerhouse in Ghetty. A nasty but enjoyable experience.

Gorgasm (1990) (USA)

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

"You think the world is being governed by a giant asshole?" That's one of the handful of questions some pompous jag-bag ponders in the opening scene. Talking to us like we're some kindhearted soul who just came over to check on our "artist" friend's well-being. I have no answer for that question. But I can tell you that Gorgasm hits like a far too sensual massage from your elderly next door neighbor, Bill. In an oddball Illinois populated mostly by kinky perverts (so... Illinois), a sexy call girl is offering the next level of sexual pleasure to those willing to pay. "The Ultimate Climax" as she calls it involves a little dancing, a little stripping and a whole lot of murdering. Eventually this brings us to the wood-paneled basement... I'm sorry... wood-paneled police headquarters of some understaffed precinct. A police officer trapped behind a desk with dreams of being a detective is thrown a bone by his sergeant and given the case (at least until a real detective is available). All he has to go on is a mysterious ad in some underground porno magazine. There's no number or address, just a nude woman advertising Gorgasm. Using his detective skills he traces the ad back to its publisher and learns how to contact Gorgasm. While he's detecting, Tara (that's our psychotic call girl) has been keeping busy murdering various lonely perverts. It all traces back to her husband who had a thing for being beat and hung up in the garage and mysteriously (not really) died a few years back. That's some fine reasoning for becoming a murder-hooker. Detective dipshit takes out an ad in the magazine and in no time at all the trap is set and the final confrontation fast approaches. There will be boobs, a severed hand and a gun blast straight to the old baby maker. Sleazy and sadistic in all the right places, Hugh Gallagher's opening act of his "Gore Trilogy" is a fine trashy time for us SOV weirdos. He had yet to tap into the bat-shit vibes that were fast approaching but he still manages to bring the psychotic charm necessary for backyard budgeted horror. There's a cool-ass soundtrack, stiff line reading, porno stores and a death by weed-whacker. This is one hell of an improvement over Gallagher's Dead Silence. It does run a bit too long but already has enough going for it that it's easy to overlook the eventual dragging.

Foxhollow (2025) (UK)

⭐️1/2

A filmmaker, not in any position to refuse a gig, gets hired on by an eccentric local to film a documentary in the vast woods of South Wales. Foxhollow National Park to be exact. Of course they vanish and of course this is the footage that was uncovered. Tom gets answers the job posting and if he was financially secure, Trapper Harding’s cryptic and creepy behavior probably would have had him turning down the position. Alas, Tom ain’t that fortunate and that nagging voice warning of danger has to be silenced. So Tom grabs his kit and meets up with the grouchy man who has plans to capture proof of a legend. It’s into the woods for our heroes as skeptical Tom questions his guide but eventually comes around to the idea that there may be something lurking in the deep woods. Not that it will do either of the men much good because, as we already know, they don’t come back from this little excursion. A park ranger discusses the search for the missing men, the coverup that followed and hints at how disturbing the recovered footage is but it’s mostly just the two men talking and wandering around the forest as Tom cautiously questions Trapper’s beliefs and Trapper goes into detail about the ways of the Sasquatch. They leave the trail and things get freaky. Nothing you haven’t seen before and also pretty boring but the two leads are fine and the guy in a suit wanders around the background like a shaggy goof.

Meatcleaver Massacre (1977) (USA)

aka Revenge of the Dead/The Hollywood Meatcleaver Massacre/Evil Force/Morak/Moran Chant 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

As older fans of horror can and probably will tell you (hundreds of times) before the internet was a globe encompassing beast, we had a rough time snatching up hard to find movies. Through video stores and usually the awesome weirdos that worked at these video stores, we would sometimes get lucky. VHS tapes (those things that brought hours of joy before degrading in quality, ruining the very machine you needed to view them with and destroying your weekend plans of Fulci film marathons) were one’s passport to weird and extreme worlds. And those wonderful weirdos behind the counter of your local mom and pop video stores were the gatekeepers. Before I became an employee, I was a faithful customer to my local video shop. Recognition and horror talk got me in close to the high school senior who worked behind the counter on Friday and Saturday nights. This led to his bootleg discoveries being passed on to me. Wonderful bootlegs of various (mostly awful) quality. I’m not complaining, it’s something I honestly love and miss about the pre-internet horror film experience. Now, the point of all this rambling; I watched a shitty copy of Meatcleaver Massacre on a bootleg VHS sometime before I graduated high school. I watched a (barely) less-shitty copy of Meatcleaver Massacre on YouTube about a month ago. My recollections of this film are just as muddy and indecipherable as they have been for the last few years between viewings. It’s supposed to be this way. That’s how amazing this movie is. I remember some things going into my YouTube viewing. There are no meat cleavers in this film. I remember that, at least I think I remember that. Scenes that may or may not be real flash into existence. I remember Sean and his odd hair, I remember interesting facial grooming on the detectives, Christopher Lee rambling and, of course, I remember Poopers. Lovable old Poopers. The soothing voice of horror, Christopher Lee, welcomes us to the film. He talks of death, evil spirits and the afterlife. It all has something to do with, most likely, nothing. It doesn’t matter. Christopher Lee was there. I’m sure of it. He rambles and then the movie begins. Sir Christopher Lee does not participate in the actual film. He’s just another passenger caught up in the Meatcleaver Massacre voyage. A professor talks about Morak. Morak is a demonic entity that can be called into reality for the sole purpose of vengeance. Morak is also known as The Great Avenger. A wise student chimes in “Yeah. Like Batman” Instead of ignoring his idiotic student, who should have gone with Ghost Rider and not a crime-hating vigilante with parent issues, the professor replies “Like a super-Batman, if you wish.” Fuck. This movie has all the answers. Morak will come into play soon enough. One of the professor’s students, a punk by the name of Mason, really disagrees with the professor that Morak may exist. Mason, being the complete asshole that he is, decides he can’t let his professor’s belief go. He and his group of no-goodniks decide to take a trip out to the professor’s house. I can only assume it’s a typical night over at Mr. Professor’s home. The professor is quietly reading, his son is making a sandwich, his daughter is taking a shower and his wife is letting out the loyal family dog Poopers. Mason and his gang of ne’er-do-wells arrive and are about to cause some mischief. Probably freak out the family with some old fashioned pranks. Then they killed Poopers and all bets were off. The family soon joins Poopers in whatever heaven he went to. The son is strangled, the wife is, I think, murdered by the correct use of the Mandible Claw and the daughter is bludgeoned with… well something. The print is very dark and outside of the strangulation you’re kind of left guessing how the family was done in. Mr. Professor was also bludgeoned but lives. He’s in a coma and unresponsive but still able to summon Morak for some sweet vengeance. At this point, your average horror film would follow the simple arch of comeuppance. This is not your average film. Something else is at play here. Sure, it follows the conventions but it also has them unfold with the logic of a lunatic. The gang of murderers meet up at a comedy show. A show involving Peter Falk impressions and hairdresser hatred. Someone is murdered by possessed cacti while hiking through the desert. A man attempts to commit suicide but upon seeing he’s late for work figures slitting his wrists can wait. Sex is also put off for work. People are massacred but no meat cleavers are used. The lunatic follows their own logic and the movie benefits from it. I sink deeper into the haze of this film. False scares and dream sequences further bend my sanity. The audio plays tricks on me. It slips in and out; sometimes the music drowns the dialogue. Dialogue written by an alien race that sat in on the marijuana-induced ramblings of two twenty year old philosophy majors. Moments in time disappear, lost forever to the shadowy world of Meatcleaver Massacre or were simply butter knifed out by an insane editor. The movie ends and Christopher Lee returns. He talks about a shaman convention. Shortly after, he uses the term "Abracadabracle" This film has cast a spell on me. Meatcleaver Massacre is a dream. No. Meatcleaver Massacre is a memory viewed through a thick fog. The images dance and briefly take shape but then disappear into the ether. Am I giving this movie too much credit? Maybe, but I think Poopers would disagree… and he died for us.

GoreX - The Zombi Horror Picture Show (1997) (Spain)

aka GoreX - Zombie Sex 

⭐️⭐️

A mad doctor’s experiments with a new drug spells trouble for three stranded young women when they are forced to spend the night in the doctor’s castle after their car breaks down. His new drug may eliminate pain but has the side effects of an increased sex drive and zombification. With no real morals to speak of, the doctor uses his new guests as test subjects. Hopefully one of the doctor’s servants (Nacho Vidal), who has fallen for one of the women, can get them the hell out before the flesh eating kicks in. There is plenty of cheap gore (mostly confined to an experimental surgery scene in the beginning that goes on and on and on) and some laughably unerotic eroticism. The copy viewed here (a bonus feature on the Toxic Filth Video release of Cannibal Cult) is the edited version with most of the hardcore shots cut out and no subtitles. This means we get plenty of laugh-inducing close ups of peoples sex faces and a produce masturbation scene which mostly consists of the young woman orally pleasuring a banana, carrot and cucumber... so... yay? There is a fun zombie-filled climax that sadly zooms by and some good laughs but holy hell is it a trek to get through.

Blood Beat (1983) (USA)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

Liam Gallagher once sang "Backbeat, the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out." If he had said "Blood Beat" I would still be writing he and his brother hate mail. Blood Beat's heart is burning with fire. The kind of fire brought about by a handle of cheap whiskey and a couple bumps of booger sugar. As it is, Oasis never made my shit list and Blood Beat never became "that one movie the Gallagher brothers sang about." Is anybody better off? Does this opening statement make any sense? Welcome to the wonderful world of Blood Beat! Christmas has come to Wisconsin. More importantly, orgasm-inducing samurai-ghost murders have made the trip as well. Ted, his sister Dolly and his girlfriend Sarah have all made the journey home. His painter mother Cathy and her bearded boyfriend Gary are playing host. We first meet the epically bearded Gary as he bow hunts a deer. Sarah meets Gary as he guts the main ingredient of deer stew. Failed bloody handshakes and general holiday excitement take a back seat to mom's obvious disdain for Sarah. Something is going on and judging by the looks mom gives to Sarah its either psychic tension or severe constipation. Based on all the blue and orange optical effects that eventually manifest, it is the former. Although, I've never had severe constipation, so I may be wrong. Things play out exactly as you would expect them to during a dreary Wisconsin winter. Ted tries, for what seems like an eternity, to bang Sarah while she's settling in to the guest room, Cathy goes super creepy and psychically watches her son try to bang Sarah, ma's hands become possessed, awesomely cheap orange and blue optical effects make an appearance and Ted shows off his rifle around the old Christmas tree. Just your usual winter in the good old Badger state. The cracks begin to widen when Sarah finds a samurai helmet in her bedroom. Her curiosity turns to fear when it magically vanishes from the room. It turns out she is, much like mom, psychic. The fragile reality of this film slowly unravels. Up to this point Blood Beat has been slightly off. It drags a little as it moves along. You figure on it being a weird little film that gave its best yet failed to entertain. Then a displaced Chicago Bears Superfan lookalike shows up. Buckle your safety belt, all hell is about break loose. The appearance of the superfan is the catalyst to the awesomeness of Blood Beat. He shows up and so does the blue light radiating samurai-ghost. The phantom attacks him. He runs and jumps through a window in SLOW MOTION! His death causes Sarah to have multiple orgasms. How is she connected to the blue light specter? Fuck if I know! All I know is we just witnessed the first ever masturbation-triggered ghost samurai attack in Wisconsin history. Blood Beat deserves every accolade because of this fact. After that little segment of Heaven passes you can just sit back and enjoy the brain meltingly confusing climax. More murders trigger more Sarah orgasms, the kitchen attacks Gary with food and a can of TAB, EVERYONE IS PSYCHIC, good magic and evil magic clash, stock footage roles and fucking LASERS happen! When the credits finally hit, the best thing to do is scoop up your brains and get on with your life. Don't dwell on Blood Beat. Don't look for answers. That will only lead to nosebleeds. Just let it be. Gary said it best: "Even the good old boys get fed up." And if that is the one discernible lesson you can take from Blood Beat, then I think we'll be more appreciative people. It's also possible this movie broke my brain and I'm just a rambling idiot. Perhaps we're all better off.

Dark Nature (2022) (Canada)

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

A therapy group heads out into the vast Canadian wilderness to confront their trauma or something along those lines. Joy is invited by her best friend Carmen to join in on the retreat because she is recently free of her abusive ex. On top of dealing with their metaphysical monsters, something very real and very dangerous seems to be occupying the area… more than your usual native fauna and asshat hunters who usually roam these woods. Joy is convinced her ex has followed them adding even more anxiety to the proceedings. She’s not the only one encountering some high strangeness and odd shit piles upon odd shit. A severed buck head, the therapy group’s leader (Doctor Dunnley) admitting she’s unfamiliar with the area, bad dreams, whispers, bonding and all the other hallmarks of a trek through the Canadian wilds are present and accounted for. There’s plenty of debate if the threat slowly closing in on the group of women is a solid thing or if their own rightfully damaged psyche is playing with them. Why can’t it be both? Likable and believably complicated characters help to keep things interesting in the opening stretch before the movie shows its hand and things get a little wild. Flashbacks play into the present, reality kinda bends in on itself and we learn, yet again, that there’s just some parts of nature you’re better not journeying into. A solid cast definitely benefits this unexpected creature feature. Great monster design, by the way.

Blood Lake (1987) (USA)

⭐️⭐️⭐️

The last vacation I took with "da boyz" was probably 5 years ago. Just a handful of idiots getting drunk till the sun came up and the bonfire was reduced to a lump of smoldering remains. A little fishing, a few gallons of cheap beer and a chance to get away from the people and jobs driving us crazy. We didn't have a care in the world. We also didn't have a Lil' Tony. It was our loss. After the poorly staged murder of a groundskeeper, Blood Lake begins its assault on your idea of vacations. Opening credits roll to the hard rock sounds of Voyager. Bleeding Skull's Joseph A. Ziemba described the music of Voyager as "butt metal". In the history of music there has never been a more spot-on genre label. A traveling montage and Voyager combine to completely turn you off to the notion of Blood Lake being an accomplished 80 minutes of filmmaking. Luckily, we're not here for accomplished filmmaking. We're in SOV country, and I will tell you right now that this country is vast and full of wonder. Grab your buds, bring your babes, and prep your boat. Some prime property for a badass vacation just became available. To quote our hero it's "a real party house". It's actually just his girlfriend's father's lake house but with enough beer, any house can be a real party house. Test it out. It's true. They have their beer and they have their place to drink it in but they have something you never had… Lil' Tony! He's our hero's younger brother and he's a mullet’d piece of shit. But in the best way possible. Lil' Tony has a sex fixation and no filter. Lil' Tony is that person you knew in 7th grade who was always on the hunt for porn and talked endlessly about boobs. Sure he could be annoying but he also had some damn funny jokes. It was the perfect mix of wanting to slap the shit out of him and wanting him to be around because he was completely out of line. This is Lil' Tony and this is his movie. The characters have been introduced and we have had glimpses of the bearded, cowboy boot wearing murderer. The vacationers are doing exactly what they planned on doing. Drinking beer, making sexual innuendos, participating in frat boy humor and experiencing the excitement of unloading a boat... in real time! If you're thinking this sounds boring; don't worry, you're about to be hit with a water skiing montage. And do you know what a water skiing montage means? MORE VOYAGER!!! The kids are feeling good to the sweet sounds of Voyager's "Feelin Fine". After that ends we are not allowed to catch our breath, as we get hit in the face with a game of quarters, also played in real time! Blood Lake doesn’t give a shit. You are a part of this vacation whether you like it or not. Sadly, the party must always end. This party is no different. Two boys that befriended the group of vacationers and have joined in on the revelry and drinking are the first to fall. After water skiing they noticed a fat, bearded man checking out the "real party house". These two skinny wieners somehow managed to scare him off with shit talk. For this, they die first. Slightly inebriated and pumped up about their toughness, they make the mistake of stumbling home. They never arrive. But they do leave us with this small piece of dialogue to remember them by:

Blonde wiener: "Man, next time we come down here we need to bring some chicks with us!"

Other wiener: "Yeeeeeaaaaah. That'd be great. Sure as hell wouldn't be out here fishing."

Blonde wiener "No shit! We'd be diving... MUFF DIVING!"

Godspeed, you angels. Your time on this earth was far too short. Those first murders take place at almost fifty minutes into the runtime. Sure, we saw the groundskeeper get his but it happened off screen and is pretty much forgotten by the time Lil' Tony shows up grinning like the smartass he is. The core group is targeted next and the "real party house" is to blame. Apparently the bearded, cowboy boot wearing fat man is owed money for the sale of the place. Daddy never paid. It's another case of real estate debt leading to murder. Becky (the girlfriend) and Lil' Tony end up hanging from a rope in the shed out back, held at knifepoint. Luckily, our hero comes to the rescue. The struggle that ensues is as exciting as you'd expect from a film where real estate debt is the motivation for murder. More importantly, we learn that Becky is an afterthought when it comes to the safety of Lil' Tony. I can't say I disagree. The supposedly dead killer vanishes and we cut to a scene of a cowboy hat wearing man surveying where the lake once was. Voyager plays over the man walking as the camera shoots the dried up lake from various angles. Before the end credits roll this text appears on the screen:

Dry lake special visual effects by An Act of God

SOV films are to be enjoyed with a certain level of understanding. Some of us find the lack of scripting and "family vacation tape" quality charming. Some of you will not and will probably hit me many times if you tracked down Blood Lake because of this review. I apologize for nothing.

The Beast Must Die (1974) (UK)

aka Black Werewolf 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

UK horror films have always had a special place in my heart. The Hammer horrors of the late fifties and early sixties jabbed there skeletal fingers into my soul at an early age. Curse of Frankenstein, The Mummy, Brides of Dracula and The Gorgon were constantly being rotated in the old VCR. Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing were as commonplace as Vincent Price and Boris Karloff. Not to brag, but I knew who Michael Ripper was before I knew who Spider-Man was. Actually, I don't think one can brag about that. But, as I continued plunging into the world of UK nightmares, the British films of the seventies quickly became my favorites. The fashion, the vernacular, the dreary weather and a general sense of "fuck all" had me going all googly-eyed over the images playing on my television. Pete Walker, Snape Island, and Donald Pleasence all play a prominent role in my fascination with horror films but I'm here to talk about one movie that started my love affair with UK chillers of the seventies.

“This film is a detective story --

in which YOU are the detective

The question is not "who is the murderer?" --

But "who is the werewolf?"

After all the clues have been shown --

You will get a chance to give your answer.”


So begins The Beast Must Die. The only film I know of with an official "Werewolf Break". It already has so much going for it. Classic 70s music (of the porn variety) plays over the opening credits. The music continues to be awesome throughout the film's runtime. We're introduced to Tom Newcliffe as he runs around a forest in a black tracksuit trying to avoid being found by an armed security force. Cameras are everywhere and a man is monitoring all of Tom's movements from a control room. It's your standard super villain control room (wall of monitors, a microphone for barking orders). You know, the kind of room where a Bond villain would watch in horror as his recently explained plans fall apart and Connery or Moore destroy his dreams of world domination. But not to worry, Tom is just testing out his men and security. The sinister European man behind the monitors is Tom's chief of security or monitoring or whatever the hell he's doing in that room. It turns out he has big plans. He's hosting a little get together and all his guests have one thing in common. They all have werewolf-ish skeletons in their closets and Tom wishes to hunt a werewolf. Tom puts it best "On safari or in the boardroom it's all the same. I go after what I want.” Tom introduces himself to his party guests by pretending to be gunned down by his armed-with-blanks security force. I once introduced myself to party guests by firing blanks at them. I think Tom's introduction went over a little bit better. His guests include the Maestro played by Michael "Dumbledore" Gambon. Dumbledore's love interest Davina, Peter Cushing as a werewolf expert, the Criminologist from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and an artist by the name of Paul Foote. Paul Foote is pretty much the personification of what I find so damn entertaining about 70's films. Unkempt hair, glorious facial hair, a fashion sense that defies logic, snappy one liners and a "screw it" attitude. As a bonus, his running skills border dangerously close to frolicking. All these people have been gathered because Tom knows their histories. Cannibalism and murder have followed them all over the world. Hell, our beloved Mr. Foote tried human flesh because he was curious. Tom has a dream, a dream of hunting and finding what no man has ever trapped. He should have tried to snag Sasquatch. I think it would have been far less dangerous. The grounds are covered with cameras and microphones. The borders are all alarmed. They even have something that measures the vibrations of footsteps, so they can tell the difference between a deer and a wolf or a wolf and a man-wolf. Tom has this shit on lockdown. There is no way to escape, as shown by a pretty lame car chase (not Mitchell lame but still lame). The guests get settled in with the knowledge that a psychopath is monitoring them to see which one of them is a werewolf. Still, this would not be the worst party I have attended. An awkward dinner of exposition, courtesy of Mr. Cushing, sets all the rules of "werewolf" in place. A silver candlestick is introduced and a game of "find-the-werewolf" is played. Wolfsbane is lobbed into the mix and yet we still get no indication of who the werewolf might be. Tom acts like a complete asshole and pretty much ruins dinner for all involved. Foote says "Well! If that's dinner... I can't wait for the cabaret!" He's the best. Every guest is hinted at being the man beast. Hairy hands, a lack of bathroom cameras (Tom may be a psychopath but he ain't no pervert), disappearing guests, broken skylights and cameos by one of the most pathetic werewolves in film history all look to further test your skills of deduction. So you best put your largest thinking cap on if you want to figure out who the werewolf is by the time the 30 second "Werewolf Break" hits. You'll be pretty damned embarrassed if you fuck it up, chump. Thirty seconds later, the final night begins and it is the equivalent of a coked-up Patrick Swayze handing out ripped throats to rowdy bar patrons. "You get a mauling! ANNNNNND you get a mauling!" The cast thins out and it becomes a little easier to decipher the identity of our hairy friend. A little twist, sanitary silver bullet tasting, a suicide and Peter Cushing slapping a hysterical woman leave a smile on my face. Yes, the werewolf is a dog fitted into a fur coat but SCREW IT! This movie has so much going for it that it will always get high marks from me. It is very biased but my opinion of the first 70's British horror film I saw will never change. The cast, the dialogue (“If he's your werewolf, I admire his taste in flesh"), and even the shitty werewolf combine to make The Beast Must Die a perfect (by my standards) horror film. I would also like to mention that my wife (who does not care for most of the crap I watch) actually liked this film, it got her interested in other British fright flicks, so make of that what you will.

Evil Dead Rise (2023) (Ireland/New Zealand/USA)

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

A lovely opening and stellar main title reveal leads to a more urban setting than we are used to when it comes to our Deadite adventures. Estranged sisters reunite at recently single mom Ellie’s Los Angeles crumbling apartment complex. The eccentric kids are ecstatic to have their aunt Beth back in their company with her stories of worldwide adventures and a lifestyle they can only dream about but her recent pregnancy reveal has her shook. The sisters have some drama and Ellie’s life ain’t going much better as her husband is now “parenting” from afar and their home is set for demolition, leaving them with no sure dwelling. These real-life personal issues are gonna have to take a number and head to the back of the line because an earthquake has just opened up the ground in the apartment’s parking garage and revealed a long-sealed bank vault. Ellie’s son Danny goes to explore and comes across some very old vinyl records (he being an aspiring DJ has him scooping them bad boys up) and a room containing what looks to be a sarcophagus surrounded by religious paraphernalia. Uh oh. The old journal he pulls out of the busted artifact is covered in bugs which should be a good sign you have entered into the wrong kind of fantasy adventure. But, kids are stupid… especially teenage boys. Granted, he thinks it may be worth something which will help out the family but he cuts his finger trying to open the damn thing and blood seems to grant him access. Uh fucking oh. His older sister is rightfully freaked the fuck out because the illustrations inside are definitely something nobody should be viewing. Danny then throws the uncovered record on the turntable and plays it. Naturally, it’s a recording of a sermon involving the reading of a rare artifact… the Book of the Dead. It’s… pretty fucking awesome. Ellie is unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when all Hell breaks loose and becomes a vessel for a very old evil. The family and a small batch of tenants still occupying the newly condemned building find themselves trapped and unable to make contact with the outside world as brutal violence comes down like a storm of shit. A game cast brings sympathy to their characters thrown into a situation so many levels of fucked up it just seems unfair. Alyssa Sutherland is excellent as Ellie and manages to pull off believable mother as well as horrifying antagonist. Also great is Lily Sullivan’s Beth, forced to become a protector to her family when mama becomes something abominable. The unheard of likable teenagers and a delightfully odd pre-teen fill out the cast. There’s some unsettling visuals to go along with the intense gore and heavy physical trauma (I’m sure plenty of mental trauma too) that keeps the cringe-inducing violent heart of the series alive. If you can go in and quiet that nagging voice comparing everything to what came before, you can have yourself some fun… or you can keep your head firmly lodged up your own ass screaming about the good old days and complaining about creativity as you praise the Terrifier series. Up to you. We get some delightful nods to the inspiration and Bruce Campbell’s voice on the vinyl recording. A very good time that tends to lean a bit into simplicity but it’s no major hinderance. Extra points for giving a horrifically splendid tip of the cap to Doré’s Archane’s Punishment.

Cryptid (2022) (USA)

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

An animal rips apart a resident of a small rural town in Maine and it’s dismissed as a random bear attack but a freelance journalist on hard times thinks it may be something else. Well, his journalism sense is a-tingling after his conversation with the town sheriff raises some suspicions. Sniffing a story, Max ropes in his hesitant research partner and photographer, Harriet, and they begin to look into things. Odd tracks are found in the nearby woods along with a deep burrow and Max’s coroner ex tips him off that things are a little bizarre when it comes to the recovered corpse. More townsfolk meet savage ends and the mayor wants a tight lid kept on things… as is tradition. The coroner sends her report to a wildlife expert and when the signs point to the culprit being reptilian, the facts begin pointing to something of unknown origin and their small Maine town is now in the middle of the creature’s migration pattern. With what looks like an upcoming hibernation, the duo realize they’re working against the clock. Max and Harriet have an excellent chemistry adding a nice level of authenticity to the intriguing investigation and winds down with a nighttime hunting trip for the creature which will provide a few answers and a few more corpses. What a pleasant surprise. It plays out like one of those failed pilots that were released as TV movies during the 70s just with somewhat better monster effects and more violence. It takes its time at nearly two hours but mostly kept my attention thanks to characters that feel lived-in and enough of the small town atmosphere which I love in my monster movies.

Santo and Blue Demon Against the Monsters (1969) (Mexico)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I sucked at Spanish in high school. I'm not much better at it now. My limited grasp on the language comes from a want to not sound like a complete asshole while ordering food. Delicious food. Beyond my half-assed attempts to impress the waitresses at hundreds of different Mexican restaurants all over the Chicagoland area, I am at a loss when it comes to speaking or understanding the language. This did not stop me from watching Santo Y Blue Demon contra Los Monstruos. I discovered this movie in grade school when I read through the book Classic Movie Monsters by Donald F Glut. In his chapter on the wolf man, it featured an image of this film's werewolf about to chow down on a woman's neck. That image stayed with me. When I found out this film had finally been unleashed on DVD, I immediately ordered myself a copy. I had no idea that it had been released without subtitles. "Fuck it." Lost as I am every time I watch it, I still love this Mexican oddity. El Santo and Blue Demon are two beloved luchadores. The wonderful thing about Luchadores is their refusal to remove their masks (It is their face, after all). In these movies they are never seen without them. It is bizarre and fantastic watching a beefy dude make out with a woman while wearing a lucha mask. It's also quite fun to experience for yourself. Try it some time. El Santo watches on as Blue Demon wrestles and seems to approve of what he sees. That or he is sexually aroused by Blue Demon's sweet skills. It may be the mask he is wearing but I still feel he’s licking his lips a little too much. There is a running commentary throughout the match calling all of the action but, as I can only make out a few words, it does nothing for me. Luckily victorious arm raising means the same thing in all cultures so I at least know Blue Demon won his match. The match is followed by scenes from a funeral. A blonde woman and her father watch on as a coffin is placed inside a mausoleum. From the cemetery, a midget and his black-clothed goons watch as well. El Santo and Blue Demon have a brief discussion in what may be El Santo's office and the goons steal the body from the coffin. Blue Demon happens to be driving by and witnesses the goons heading towards a castle. Like all masked wrestlers, his curiosity gets the best of him and he decides to investigate. This was a mistake. He witnesses the resurrection of Dr. Halder (the corpse from the coffin) by his midget assistant and is captured. Halder's Vladimir-Lenin-looking-ass places Blue Demon in what may be a transparent tanning bed and clones him. Boom! Now we got an evil Blue Demon on our hands. El Santo is out for a drive with the blonde woman we saw earlier at the funeral. They stop for some lucha lip-locking and come across Evil Blue Demon. He and the goons attack. They manage to kidnap the lovely young lady and Evil Blue Demon throws Santo off a cliff. Luckily, Santo will not be taken out in such a lazy manner. He hops in his car and pursues the kidnappers. They have a bit of a head start but, through the magic of cinema, El Santo's car drives as if the film has been sped up. The blonde jumps into his convertible and the villains fly off a cliff. Obviously, their car explodes on impact but somehow not one of them is hurt. This forces Dr. Halder to undertake more drastic matters to complete whatever it is his evil plans are. A couple of things before I go on; I have no idea what Halder's evil plans were. I just knew he was evil. The man has goons and a cloning machine. There’s this little brain-monster guy. I was half convinced I had imagined him. He does nothing, has no special powers but he still gets screen time. I have no idea what the fuck he is or why he is there. I may be sinking in a sea of ignorance without subtitles, I'm still fairly certain he is never explained. It's pretty damn perfect. I wish there were more characters like this spread throughout cinema. Just weird little monsters hanging out and not doing a damn thing. Well, I'll get back to it. Phase II of Halder's plan involves him collecting various monsters and may I say that these are some of the cheapest monsters I have ever seen. It's Universal on a poverty row budget. I love them so damn much. Halder's goons collect the vampire first. He wears a top hat and has bat ears! Evil Blue Demon manages to control him with a flashing ring. My heart is singing! Next up is a mummy who looks like an old man with a Three-Stooges-style tooth ache. He is freed from his "crypt" which resembles an unused room in a crazy person's mansion. It's full of cobwebs and mummified bodies. A cyclops is melted out of the ice. Uhm... yeah... I know that sentence makes no sense but what the hell? You won't even care once you see the beast. It looks like a burnt gorilla with the head of a one eyed robot-ape. It just keeps getting better. Add to it a bearded werewolf and Frankenstein's monster. He is named Franquestain and his makeup consists of a goatee glued onto a Glenn Strange Frankenstein’s monster mask. The vampire will also claim two sexy ladies as his brides to add to the monster menagerie. The monsters run rampant. Wolfman kills a family of three. Franquestain murders a couple of smooching teens. He crushes the poor young man's head with his boot. I'm sure the others are also up to no good. Eventually El Santo and the vampire have a wrestling match. What did you think was going to happen? The vampire puts on a mask and becomes a stocky luchador. There is no pinfall, sadly, because the monsters rush the ring and the stadium slips into chaos. El Santo takes his gal and her father to dinner and a show. Turns out the mad Dr. Halder is her uncle. I figured that little mystery out when her father used the word "hermano". Thank you for the assist, Arrested Development. The monsters attack them at dinner and kidnap the blonde and her pops. The mummy is thrown off a roof. El Santo, once again, proves that tossing him off of anything is useless. Blue Demon is rescued, evil is conquered and a castle is engulfed in flames. I push my liquefied brain back into my ears and smile. Damn. I need a scotch. Santo Y Blue Demon contra Los Monstruos does not need to be understood. It will probably lose a little magic when I finally find it with subtitles. Until then, this film will transcend the language barrier. Years ago I finally sat down with this long-hunted gem. It brought a smile to my face and inspired me to seek out many more unsubtitled films I had put off watching due to my trepidation for misunderstanding a plot. Santo and Blue Demon taught me it is ok to get lost sometimes.

Four Flies on Grey Velvet (1971) (Italy/France)

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

Any film that opens with a drum solo can't be all that bad. Any film that closes with a car exploding can't be all that bad. If the middle can hold its weight we may have a genuine classic on our hands. It comes close but sadly it is too accomplished for trash heaven status and too goofy to hit the horror classic mark. It's still worth your time. The drummer drumming his ass off is our protagonist Roberto. He's practicing with his band, rocking out and attempting to kill a fly without missing a beat. He's also being watched by a mustachioed man in sunglasses. Various cutaways show us that this man has been following him for a week or so. Practice ends and after he reassures his bandmate about being off ("We're so far out, who’s gonna notice?") he realizes Mr. Shady Mustache is still hanging around. He goes to confront the stalker and follows him into an empty theater. The confrontation leads to him accidentally killing the stalker and all of this has been photographed by some weirdo in a super creepy mask. Roberto begins to receive vague threats from our creepy photographer. These vague threats soon escalate into outright violence in Roberto's own home. He is attacked by the weirdo and told that he will eventually kill him but not yet. After all, it's not like Roberto can go to the cops. He shares this information with his wife Mina and she freaks out. Roberto seeks advice from his friend Godfry (called God) and attempts to figure out a plan of action. God introduces him to his parrot (named Jerk Off) and tells him to hire a private investigator. He also pays his hobo friend, The Professor, to watch over Roberto's house. It does little to calm Roberto's paranoia. He sends his wife away and attacks his mailman. This weirdo photographer is really getting to him. What follows is blackmail, more blackmail, murder and some serious daddy issues. It's a fun ride so I will not be spoiling... much. This film is populated with odd characters and a few odd moments. The homosexual private detective is the best of the lot. He has 84 unsolved cases but is optimistic about Roberto's case because he is due for a win. I could watch a whole movie of Detective Arrosio and was sad to see him meet his end (but he did solve the case). God and the Professor are fun but not fleshed out, Mina's psychiatrist friend has an awesome mustache and looks like Ben Stiller, a cat is murdered, a couple making out in the park vanish through the magic of terrible editing, there's a recurring dream with a public decapitation and a funeral expo filled with trendy coffins and bad jokes. The title comes from the "scientific" method used to catch the killer. Apparently, the last image a victim sees before death will remain on the retina for an hour or so. It is possible to photograph this image through the use of lasers and science, I guess. Do you know what that image looks like on the eye of one of the creepy photographer's victims? That's right! Four flies on grey velvet... just like the name of the movie!

The Burning (1981) (USA/Canada)

aka Cropsy/Carnage/The Cropsy Maniac 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Slasher films are not everyone's cup of tea. Complaints are voiced about the formulaic laziness of the whole damn genre. "You've seen one, you've seen 'em all!” They may be a showcase for clever and sometimes not so clever ways to dispose of horny "teenagers" but all in all they lean towards "by the numbers" scripting. Alas, as someone who spends his free time knocking around the bottom

Of the Tubi dumpster and consuming any and all found footage flick that comes his way, I don’t think I have any right to be critical. Not that I would be, I happen to believe there’s almost nothing as comfortable as an 80’s slasher flick… and that’s ok. If anything, The Burning will be remembered as "that slasher flick with George Costanza in it." At least it will be remembered. Tom Savini supplies the special effects so they are pretty damn perfect. It is also formulaic, even at this early stage of the genre. It still remains one of my all-time favorite slasher flicks. All the checkpoints are there: boobs, blood, POV shots and a preternatural killer. It also adds some extra spice: recognizable faces, likable characters, Savini, Jason Alexander's first nude scene and a peeping tom named Alfred. If this is the "standard" slasher film then the standard is pretty damn great. There's a hated caretaker at Camp Blackwood and the campers decide to get back at him. A lazy prank leads to third degree burns for Cropsy the caretaker. The term "pants on fire" is taken to a horrifying new place. Cropsy survives... kind of. He's released from the hospital looking like a clay sculpture I made when I was high on LSD and drunk on a few glasses of whiskey. He's pissed and he wants vengeance. First he hires a hooker (do people still us this term or have I been watching too many 70's cop films?) but before they can do the horizontal tango she sees his face and decides she doesn't need the fifteen dollars (I'm being generous). She is brutally murdered with scissors and because Savini is in charge of the deaths, it is kind of hard to watch. Realizing he has a knack for murder, he decides to head to camp to enact some sweet vengeance on any "teenager" around. The doomed teens turn out to be pretty damn likable. You have a few jerks but for the most part I didn't want any of these nerdy kids and cute girls to get it. Some of them may have looked like undercover cops trying to fit in with a group of teenage drug dealers but they still had inner beauty. The same even goes for the resident jerk off. There was heart beneath that tough exterior. He was still murdered but Glazer wasn't a complete dick. Alfred may have been a creeper but he wasn't just a creeper. Most of the other "kids" are just your run-of-the-mill late-twenties-looking teens, joking around and having some fun. They go off on a canoeing/camping trip and that's when Cropsy makes his move. Lost canoes lead to the building of a raft, rafting to get more canoes leads to a memorable massacre and this massacre leads to everyone realizing just how fucked they are. I know I have mentioned Tom Savini a few times already but the man is a master at his craft. The violence is brutal as hell and realistic to boot. This helps in making the deaths poignant and lasting. You watch a man get decapitated with the aid of CGI and you can immediately say "Look how stupid that was! Fantastic!" but when you watch these people slaughtered in a completely realistic fashion you can only mourn for the loss of your crush and your probable D&D partners. I love weird cinema. I love trash films. I love garbage that only someone with a damaged brain could find amazing; they’re the weird food you've never tried but your more cultured friend forces you to eat. It's a wonderful thing experiencing new tastes but sometimes you should enjoy what you've eaten since you were just a little weirdo. Slasher films are the Taco Bell of my horror genre. Taco Bell can really hit the spot sometimes.

Aswang (1994) (USA)

aka The Unearthing 

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

The aswang is a Filipino monster that feeds upon unborn babies in the mother's womb. It has a projectable tongue it uses to invade the mother's womb through her vagina. A group of Wisconsin filmmakers decided they wanted to make a film about this. Let that sink in. Are you smiling? If not, you may want to leave. I think you may be in the wrong place. Now that it's just us weirdos, we can talk about this tongue-centric horror film. Katrina is in a bit of a bind. She is pregnant and her boy toy doesn't want the baby. He even offers to pay for "a trip to the clinic." What a guy! Katrina has other plans. She has found some oddball Wisconsinite who needs an heir before he can get his hands on his family's vast estate. He has money and he is willing to dish out the sweet greenbacks for the exclusive rights to the little bastard inside Katrina's tummy. She signs a contract (something the man continuously reminds her) and things hit a steady decline for her from this point on. Before you can say "Go Badgers!" Katrina is on her way to meet her "husband" Peter's mother. Peter Null ain't the only oddball in his family. His mother Olive is a wheelchair-bound weirdo constantly being looked after by their Filipino maid Cupid. Peter's sister lives on the grounds away from everyone in a cabin because she is "touched in the head". Katrina is warned to stay away from the cabin. There's also some kind of professor roaming around but he is not welcome there. Peter shouts "he's violating my property rights!" He knows more than he is letting on but he does not survive long enough for us to figure out just what information he was privy to. Just like every other family there is a horrible secret to the Null's. What is a family secret if not horrible? I'd much rather stumble upon a basement burial ground than some lame-ass surprise party. If you're gonna have a secret make sure it’s a dark one. Everyone is very interested in Katrina's unborn child. Hell, she wakes up from an unsettling nightmare to find Peter going down on her. He is doing this to learn the gender of the baby. I didn't know you could do that through cunnilingus. You learn something new every day. Turns out their interest lies more on the feasting side of things. Mother and son are aswangs and they are hungry. Judging by the remains the professor has discovered littered all over the Null estate, they have eaten many times. This leaves Katrina in a fight for her and her daughter's life. Aswang is different. If you have an affinity for oddball horror films you may have come across this creature before but you have never seen it handled by Wisconsinites on a tight budget. Its 82 minute run time keeps it zipping along and avoiding the padding curse one usually runs into when watching regional horror films. There's also plenty of weirdness to keep you awake such as the scene where Katrina gets ahold of the mother's exploring tongue, pulls her off the roof by it and forces Peter to severe the 50 ft. tongue because mama Null is hanging off the balcony by it. There's a random-ass chainsaw attack and a garden hoe defense. There is some bad acting but it isn't distracting and the sight of a chainsaw-wielding man in pajama pants chasing a pregnant woman more than makes up for any scenery chewing. Between the orgasm-causing samurai ghost of Blood Beat and the baby snatching tongue monsters of Aswang I am growing quite fond of my neighbor to the north. Keep it weird, Wisconsin... keep it weird.

The Hunted (2013) (USA)

aka The Dark Forest 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Two men set off into the woods to film themselves buck hunting on some newly acquired land. Attempting to get a show deal out of it, their frustration grows as they can't seem to get the buck they are after and they are plagued by a piercing scream that appears to be stalking them. Their cameras are catching nothing, whatever is screaming is escalating its "attacks" and the landowner may be hiding the secret of just what the hell is going on. A truly solid found footage film builds off of an urban legend and increases the atmosphere by taking the leads out of their element and throwing them deep in the woods on unfamiliar land. The simple threat is somehow creepy as hell and aided by likable characters being placed in the sights of a supernatural force that can’t be reasoned with. Helps that genre regular Josh Stewart always adds a quiet cool to his characters and is about as likable as can be. It all comes out as a nice showcase of how found footage can be done right as long as ya got folks taking things seriously. 

Dead Stop (2011) (USA)

⭐️

Four friends (in the loosest sense of the word), one of the girl’s emo brother and two hitchhikers get lost in the desert and decide to set up camp and get back to navigating in the morning. The male hitchhiker is a former professor of zoology and he travels the world now with his lady in tow. Emo boy stays behind in the van while everyone makes a fire and drinks some crispy boys. He hears something unsettling in the darkness but is stopped from exploring further when his sister’s boyfriend comes and convinces him to join the revelry. Ex-professor Joe shares a story about his hunt for the yeti in Everest and the death of his research partner. Surprisingly, everyone wakes up the next day with all their limbs intact. Unsurprisingly, the van won’t start and the desert is no place to be stranded in even the best conditions. With very little water, almost no food and an abundance of beer, the group has to try their damndest to make it last until they can get rescued by a passing motorist. Joe has been in harrier situations but I’m still not fully trusting his ass. Boring boyfriend Todd heads off down the road to get help and everyone else just stays by the van, being boring. Todd returns with news that they’re pretty much fucked. Panic sets in. After what feels like a longer than necessary period of time spent with people you purposefully stopped speaking with after high school, something finally attacks. Everyone survives night two and my patience is wearing thin. Night three follows after more failed wandering and the discovery of some torn apart corpses (not shown). We finally lose one of these idiots, when the monster savages Joe’s gal because she hasn’t mastered the art of leaving a van in a timely fashion. Night four rolls around and the hope brought about by the gang getting their hands on another engine (those dead derps they discovered earlier) is shattered by more death and lost keys. Incense and emo kid heroics begrudgingly drag this thing to a close. Desert sex (not recommended), braindead close-quarter unfaithfulness (also not recommended), braining the love of your life to put her out of her misery (regretfully recommended) and monster POV being the majority of your creature encounters (only recommended if you want me to despise you) add to the entertainment-void. You can take a nap before even bothering to watch it or while you’re watching, that’s your choice.

A Dark Path (2020) (UK)

⭐️⭐️1/2

A fed-up woman (really don’t blame her on that) and her hard-partying little sister get lost in the middle of the English countryside trying to get to the airport after some bachelorette party revelries. Night quickly approaches and the sisters end up stranded in a patch of woods some ancient creature calls home. Makenna Guyler (The Barge People) and Mari Beaseley are convincing siblings and Guyler is an extremely capable actress, which is good because we spend most of the runtime with her as she figures out just how dire a situation she’s fallen into. Unfortunately it takes more than 50 minutes to get to any creature action (barely glimpsed but pretty damn effective) in a flick that runs just over 70. There’s an air of familiarity dragging things down as well. Still, we get a solid lead and a cool looking critter... just wish they were given a stronger film to be showcased in.

Wicked Wife (1981) (Taiwan)

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

What in the holy fucking seven hells did I just watch? Chopped and cropped to blissful incoherence, Wicked Wife is a completely lunatic film. A sexy widow opens up a successful restaurant/whorehouse (I think) just as a string of tiger murders plague a small town. Behind the murders is an angry young woman with the power to transform into said big-cat (I think). She’s doing away with an evil sorcerer’s gang with the assistance of the sexy widow (I think). The sorcerer’s preferred method of murder is to use poisonous centipedes on his victims. Stuck in the middle of all this insanity is a young man searching for his missing fiancée and in the employment of the sorcerer (maybe?). All of this awesomeness takes a backseat to the “romantic” plot line of the young man and may very well stretch your patience to the breaking point. Of course, if you can tough it out and ride the weird-ass vibes, you will be rewarded with sped up kung-Fu, needless gymnastics, whip violence, magic water, a hilarious dub job performed by some of the worst voice actors I’ve ever encountered and a quickly dispatched zombie. Trash fiends with no need for logical storytelling will find themselves in heaven, all others may want to steer clear before their brains melt. I loved it.

The Grapes of Death (1978) (France)

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

Pesticides used on a small village’s vineyard has the adverse effect of turning said townsfolk into murderous monsters, with the wine infecting the neighboring villages as well. Bad luck that a sexy young woman is traveling by train near the area and is forced to flee when an infected goober comes aboard and slaughters her friend. She escapes into the countryside, accompanied by a moody electronic score and Jean Rollin’s usual artistic eye. Running into various infected folk, some a little better off (for now, at least) than others, the young woman fights for her life against sore-covered Frenchmen every step of the way. Plenty of pus is complimented by plenty of wandering but it all somehow works under the talented direction of Rollin. Just when it starts to bore, the viewer is greeted with a particularly atmospheric scene or a burst of graphic violence. Brigitte Lahaie shows up in a nightgown with two dogs and a case of the crazies... and that is always a good thing.

Darkness Waits (2020) (USA)

aka It’s Happening Again 

⭐️1/2

An infamous patch of road along the Appalachian Trail goes by the name of Dead Woman’s Hollow and has a dark history. This brings a team of college paranormal investigators to the location for their awful ghost hunting show Soul Hunters. Extended opening credits play over some old footage of a group of hippies partying in the woods to a title track. The video is being watched by our heroes because towards the end a figure shows up in the background and the group leader thinks it’s a shadow ghost. She then shows them the crime scene photos of the dead hippies who were gunned down soon after. One of them points out that it may not be a supernatural figure but just their killer. Good to know someone is using their brain. Jess assures them that the same entity has been witnessed for at least 100 years, so there ain’t no way. She also lets them know that they’ll be shooting guerrilla style because the local authorities did not grant them any permits. Two of the dudes enlist their buddy to dress up and go up there so they can catch him on camera and not waste their weekend wandering around the wilderness. It’s a fine plan but the problem is that there’s already something dangerous in the woods and it knows they’re trampling around. Freshly-appointed sheriff Buck Rogers is getting comfortable in his new position and is out of his element when he has to deal with the sinister history of the area and the impending doom the group of university students are marching right into. This doom is coming in the form of a mustachless hillbilly with a rifle. After a bit this thing goes past its natural endpoint and we’re treated to an endurance test. It runs into an issue found in a whole bunch of these backyard flicks where a lack of editing skills make for boring scenes that don’t need to be there. You’ve already told us your buddy is going to be piecing together a costume from the thrift store, we don’t need a couple minutes dedicated to him shopping as intense music plays. And then even more time spent with him dressing up in said costume to the same repetitive theme. I don’t think you can legally call anything in this a “performance” and I doubt “acting natural” qualifies either because the word acting is in it. The least threatening mountain man I’ve ever seen makes for one hilarious antagonist. So, you should be laughing in between the pessimistic world view and failed humor. A frail Conrad Brooks shows up so this was shot at least three years prior to the 2020 release unless his ghost came back to cameo in a garbage indie film. Could be. I don’t know, I’m no scientist. It’s one hundred minutes long and does almost nothing… that is completely unforgivable. It seriously ends and then chugs on for another forty minutes. If you’re like me, you’ll laugh a couple of times… at least at yourself.