directed by Larry stewart
georgian bay productions, ltd.
Let me say right up front, there’s no morgue or mausoleum in this picture, so I clearly had not paid careful enough attention during my film search. Thus prepared to be disappointed, I instead was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this slasher flick – especially as it wasn’t very promising at its onset. The sophomoric sorority subplot dissipates, however, and the family intrigue heightens, all while an amusingly amateurish sidebar screams out that the action is set in the mid-eighties. What really recommends this film, however, is the joyful overkill of the death scenes, replete with extra stabbings, copious blood, and a lot of screaming that is hysterical in whichever sense you prefer. To top it off, the SHOCKING ending is disguised cleverly enough that right as you’re about to put your finger on it, it’s standing right in front of you. And in addition, I’d bet the makers of Hide and Go Shriek enjoyed this movie, as their entertaining film bears certain similarities to this one.
why did i watch this movie?
As hinted above, I thought this was of the “characters have to spend the night in a morgue or mausoleum” line of horror, a category I’m eager to continue exploring.
should you watch this movie?
This is a fun horror film from the 1980s, nothing to take too seriously … but engaging enough that you won’t regret the choice, either.
highlight and low point
The subplot featuring the Psychology TA and his graduate assistant trying to unravel what’s behind Daphne Zuniga’s nightmares is completely ridiculous on any number of levels, just one of a handful of overcooked ideas presented here. Come to think of it, the whole feature is a collection of subplots. Parts, sum, whole, greater, etc.
For almost two-thirds of this (very) independent picture’s running time, I couldn’t stand the damn thing, mainly because the main character is completely insufferable, dampening whatever alleged “humor” I was supposed to be getting from the subpar scriptwriting. Besides which, nothing much happens during this hour, and I was getting pretty tired of looking at the hideous, dated togs sported by some of the clowns in the cast. At long last, however, the dead finally rise from their graves – this cannot possibly count as a “spoiler” – and mostly redeem things … but not for the reasons you may suppose. No, what really turned my opinion of this movie is the sound design, because as the corpses claw their way out of the earth (with suspicious ease) and start to stalk their way around the garishly designed and oddly luminescent cemetery and grounds – the film looks much the way colorized “classics” do, the effect at times almost fauvist – the soundtrack begins BLARING all sorts of unexpected, unrelenting sonic surprises. Was that a cow? I wondered. Is that a foghorn? Is this an Edgard Varèse composition? Man alive (hahaha), is it terrific. The silent final scene is great as well.
This not terribly creative small-budget independent slasher-type horror feature is compromised by a few serious issues. One is that it is highly reminiscent of My Bloody Valentine, which wouldn’t be so bad except that it came out nine months later than that flick. The other, which is probably more severe, is that its reveal of the mystery killer isn’t acceptable, being not only illogical but improbable. While I acknowledge that one may not always be able to deduce the slayer’s correct identity in these types of pictures, it’s gotta make SOME kind of sense to support the conceit. And this one just doesn’t. Granted, the conclusion doesn’t even bother to explain anything in the aftermath – which is admirable to some degree – but after dwelling on it for about four seconds, I realized that a number of other details also don’t add up to anything. (One in particular makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.) A false-shock ending is thrown in for additional kicks. I will concede that the song title “Disco Blood” (“Original Rock Music Composed and Performed by NOWHERE FAST”) is A-1.
A tale of Nature Gone Horribly Wrong, this likable B-movie set in America but filmed in New Zealand proudly blares its very ’90s soundtrack whenever possible. But after dispensing with its Meet Cute (well, sort of; it involves both a dead engine and a dead pet), this chipper horror comedy rather quickly started reminding me of the legendary cult favorite Tremors. Then a completely unexpected detour occurs, and although it’s short and ultimately slight, the film never seems to regain its bearings. From that point onward, the action escalates, things keep exploding, and the characters, finding themselves in one impossible situation after another, seem to devolve as the creatures they’re battling keep rapidly adapting. Maybe that’s supposed to be a parallel. Or a paradox. Whatever it is, it becomes difficult to tell what the producers wished to achieve. Unless it was to remind one of Tremors. It ends abruptly.
When setting out to watch this ’70s obscurity, I had no idea the sort of sleazefest I’d be enjoying. In one especially enlightening sequence, a bored and oversexed housewife emulates Of Mice and Men with the mentally challenged handyman, after which she is confronted by her daughter-in-law – the current paramour of an ex-conquest – and a breasts-exposing catfight ensues. The daughter-in-law subsequently goes to bed with the disputed boyfriend. Meanwhile, the other adult female on the premises is drinking heavily and badgering her shlump of a husband, played by Sorrell Booke. As this is happening, five deranged children who have survived a bus accident break into the secluded lodge-style home in which all of the above are weekending, and beat to death their pursuant erstwhile handler – in slow motion. This movie becomes quite unsettling as it unspools … but its creepiest component lies behind the scenes. Mid-seventies flash in the pan Leif Garrett plays one of the murderous kids (“Charlie”), as does his younger sister Dawn Lyn (“Moe”), and their mother (Carolyn Stellar) plays the sexpot, “Lovely,” who eventually is killed off, topless in the bath, by Moe. Hollywood family values – now that’s chilling.
I am not altogether certain that this flick accurately portrays some of the nuances of its setting, that being 1965 New England. For that matter, I do not know why this flick is set in 1965 – or what, really, was its intention. A meandering and not particularly interesting tale of presumably ancient witchcraft involving – you’ll never guess – the forest surrounding a peculiar school for girls, this film helmed by Lucky McKee plays out like just another teen-drama conflict, with Problems With Authority to boot. Following a main character named “Heather,” which is probably not a coincidence, and overplaying the mysterious and potentially threatening nature of certain faculty members, it never becomes too frightening and doesn’t provide nearly as much intrigue as was probably intended. Part of the problem may be that there’s a whole lotta nothin’ where the story’s supposed to be. Several clumsy subplots and possible false flags don’t help, and neither does the CGI. A completely unremarkable movie that even manages to waste a rare underplayed appearance by Bruce Campbell.
So, when you and your pals have tricked your girlfriends into accompanying you to a spooky abandoned house on All Hallow’s Eve – and boy are they MAD, having expected a “jet set party” – naturally, what you next propose is to bring a dead person back to life. Oh, sure, they’re doubtful, until you reasonably explain that the first step is to acquire a dead body from the morgue, at which point you all pile into the car. Does a downpour stop you from performing the ritual, i.e. reading from “the black book”? Of course it doesn’t. But once you’ve successfully revived Devlon – Devlon! – HE sure stops you, i.e. kills you. Up until this point in this generic Mexican flick, it’s reasonably entertaining, but once its focus switches to a group of children stranded in the graveyard, it becomes reminiscent of any random Scooby-Doo episode – then turns into the most blatant ripoff of the “Thriller” video imaginable, albeit with a much smaller budget. So blatant one of the kids sports a jacket with M. Jackson’s famous visage painted on the back. (Also spotted: “Pepsi Free.”)
Some – okay, most – reviewers are going to tell you this movie is terrible, but I must point out that Macabra: La mano del diablo and its similars just may be the raison d’être of this website (not to mention a significant contributing factor to its proprietor’s joie de vivre). Following a prefatory flashback scene, the story proper begins in an old mine complete with self-propelled skulls and tremulous native workers. Then it’s off to Vegas, baby! Before consulting a priest, of course, which naturally involves the police. Yes, the devil’s (left) hand has many functions, which does not prepare us for when it has been lopped off the arm of the cop whose arm it has commandeered, grabs his gun and shoots a nurse in an extremely tight and low-cut uniform. “The Hand will kill again!” intones our female lead. Can THE HAND be stopped? Will THE HAND be destroyed? Could I not stop giggling while enjoying this presentation? A must-see.
One of the more perverse films you’re ever likely to see outside of niche porn, this notorious Greek exploitation picture revels in sadistic glee – often focusing directly upon said glee on the protagonists’ faces. One can only wonder the distasteful levels director (Nico) Mastorakis could have reached had this film been lensed in modern times. As it is, however, more than a few of the catalogue of murders depicted here may be somewhat difficult to stomach – literally, in the instance of the victim forced to drink paint. Honestly, as the perpetrators’ acts escalate, it sometimes feels as if the director had a list of moral or criminal offenses that he wanted to portray. [Editorial note: I just found this on IoD‘s official website: “After listing the most depraved sexual acts he could conceive, Mastorakis wrote the script in a week.”] The movie does have a working framework, however, along with an admittedly dark sense of humor, and never relents. All told, an accomplished feature debut. (Being reviled internationally IS an accomplishment.)
With all the makings of a cult classic, it’s a shame that this plodding soap opera can’t deliver the horror equivalent of, say, Reefer Madness. It does have a dippy drug subplot, though. This turgid melodrama also is in possession of outlandish, dated dialogue that probably felt just as forced and inauthentic then as now, along with a Californian Korean War vet with a British accent and an incestuous relationship, a runaway hippie chick, an Afro-sporting reporter for an underground newspaper called Young People’s Press, a steadfast law ‘n’ order sheriff and his deputies, an aging stripper and a death scene featuring a meat cleaver. Oh, and presumable cannibalism. Despite such an enviable list, this curio fails to keep one’s attention for long. One surmises it may have been intended to Make a Statement about Issues of the Day. The tearjerker ending is unexpected.
SPACE RATS From Outer Space 