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Some fun-loving park rangers and their ladies go camping in a practically unexplored neck of North American wilderness. They run across a homicidal woodsman (or woodswoman) who lays claim to the area. A couple familiar faces pop up in the cast and the killer is a pretty cool-lookin’ creeper, wonderfully camouflaged to fit in with their environment… so it scores some bonus points in its slasher category. Adding to the fun is the location-shooting in the vast wilderness of the Pacific Northwest, our victims are all believably isolated as things spiral out of control. When the group leader (Mark Metcalf) is discovered dismembered, the group of youngsters realize they’re in some deep shit, 45 miles away from the nearest road out. Immediately blaming their bus-driver/local-creep (a scuzzy Joe Pantoliano) they decide to bring the fight his way. Fortunately they discovered a small cabin and are pretty sure he’s cooped up there. They find the remnants of their buddy in the shit-shack but nothing else, so grabbing a water raft discarded on the property, they head to a nearby river. I believe it was The Burning that taught us to never raft in a slasher flick, something our team of goobers soon discover. Granted there’s less loss of life (probably because their raft wasn’t makeshift) and we don’t have to live with the reality that we just watched Fisher Stevens get his fingers severed… thank God for that. Never thought I’d be happy a movie didn’t cast Fisher Stevens. Anyways, out of the river and back in the woods, night soon falls and one by one the dudes and dames get picked off by the wild lunatic with sharp objects. A serviceable backwoods-slasher hybrid with a capable cast and imposing killer.
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