Owl Lake is supposedly haunted. A brutal murder set in motion a curse where the slaughtered woman now dwells within the lake and uses seduction to drown whatever poor sap is unfortunate to cross her path. We know this is true thanks to an opening murder. Some dude who looks like the offspring of Twin Peaks Russ Tamblyn and adult Greg Brady threatens a woman decked out in all white at gunpoint to give him what he wants. She strips and kisses him but then throws up in his mouth while transforming into a hag. He dies via poison vomit (maybe) and then the woman takes a dreamy dip in the lake (pool) and the credits role. Before you can say “whuh?” we see said almost rapist in a coffin surrounded by fire (green screen) and a young derp approaching his coffin. A knight (who looks like he’d be more comfortable discussing my taxes) is there and warns the young man that “our lake is full of mysteries”. Needless to say, I’m kind of in love. The young man (the dead guy’s nephew) wakes up to the news his Uncle Jake is dead. Premonition much? David lets the girl in his bed know he’s going away for a bit and isn’t sure when he’s coming back. Deb is rightfully upset he’s just brushing her off to do whatever the hell vague “family stuff” he has to deal with. She will not be seen again after showing off her top and tail. This family stuff brings David to Owl Lake and his deceased uncle’s lakeside home. Like all nineties lakeside home’s in rural nowhere, there’s a drunk, scumbag neighbor. David immediately hears a woman calling his name and has a flashback to his youth where he had an encounter with the ghostly lady of the lake. The neighbor breaks his revelry and warns him about the dangers of the area in his Brooklyn by way of rural Canadian style. When David isn’t painting, he’s experiencing paranormal activity and bizarre fantasies involving the (just as) horny lake lady (water gets everywhere). David thinks he’s going nuts but what’s love but a socially accepted form of insanity. Anyways, he’s obviously not because there’s photographic proof of this dream woman and even some video footage that Guido the Canadian New Yorker watches longingly. Can David break the curse? Can a rightfully angry revenant find love? Can said love allow people to time travel? Can someone be Italian and Canadian and not come off as a creep? Can a hallway mirror really serve as a gateway to a romantic water rendezvous? How about a looking glass into Hell? Can the hammiest villain this side of Canadian park performers be stopped? Can we shoehorn zombies into this thing? Can David put on a shirt? All of these questions will be answered because somebody had access to a pleasant piece of lakeside property and happened to be owed a favor by the owner of a Renaissance Faire. Sometimes, fate is working in to all of our benefit. There’s a whole lot of unexpected nudity for the budget (we talkin’ some dong) and a lo-fi dreamy quality the has this thing coming off like a public access transmission from a different dimension where every actor never quite made it past dinner theater, everyone is just slightly horny all of the time and everything goes wonderfully off the rails as things reach the end. Needless to say, I’m kind of in love.
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