⭐️⭐️1/2
An ugly little island (despite how many times everyone insists it’s beautiful) serves as a honeymoon hotspot for newly married couples. The woman who runs it knows a thing or two about marriage as she and her current husband burnt her ex-husband to death a year ago. He caught them getting freaky in their wood-paneled home when he came back to grab his forgotten cigarettes. Can’t leave the island without those. Hilariously, he attacked the stud groping his wife only for Elaine to whack his noggin with a liquor bottle and send him head-first into the fireplace. That’s unfortunate. “Death” is a bit of a stretch because the dude ain’t exactly perished but he sure is pissed and he’s taking that anger out on whatever female presence he can because his Uncle-Fester-looking-ass is angry at all women and a sex maniac to boot. I assume, since he doesn’t really bother going after the men. Disfigured sexist deviants believed to be dead are the worst. Elaine’s new sleazy beau Vic wants to get the hell off the island but she wants the island getaway to grow in popularity so they can sell it for a song and retire. They spend most of the time bickering and banging. Also on the island are a creepy old caretaker, a flustered British maid and your requisite bubbly sorority girls decorating the honeymoon cabin for their soon-to-be married sisters. The maid is discovered dead in the closet and the sorority girls don’t last much longer. The three newlywed couples arrive the next day with the impressive distinction of all being personality voids. After a long stretch of time spent with people I could not care less about, the dock and boats get set on fire and bodies start dropping. Everyone blames the mute caretaker Joe who Elaine lets us know is “slightly retarded”. They lock him in his cabin and freak the fuck out. A cigar-chewing sheriff who looks like he needs a shower and his beefy deputy who looks like his parents are cousins are providing what I imagine is supposed to be comic relief throughout and are just as ineffective at comedy as they are at protecting the populace. A bridge gets accused of grabbing someone’s foot, the menfolk let loose some hilarious howling, a husband is fixated on getting his exercises in (Mr. America here he comes!), the movie ends and then keeps going and the fate of the love triangle at the center of everything is pretty funny. A bonafide junk slasher film may not have the entertainment value for folks with normal brains and good taste but the garbage aesthetic is my kind of squalor populated with several folks who look like they would sit comfortably on several sex offender registries in the Grapevine area… I’m looking at you, Vic. It’s undeniably bad but undeniably a snapshot of an era I’m deeply infatuated with. Sure, I probably could use a hot shower after a watch but that’s necessary for more than a few things I get up to in my day.
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