DIRECTED BY “JONATHAN STRYKER”
SIMCOM/JENSEN FARLEY PICTURES, INC./CURTAINS PRODUCTIONS, INC.
Actually directed by Alan Smithee cinematographer Richard Ciupka, this portentous Canadian romp isn’t dull, as it contains enough quirks to amuse viewers while they’re wondering who’s doing all the killing. It is a bit more restrained – or sedate, both being apropos with the mental health subcontext – than one may anticipate when perusing the plotline: six female actors (or two actors, a comedian, a musician or perhaps model, a dancer and an … ice skater) are summoned to a remote, sprawling manor to audition for a plum role at the behest of a paternalistic, prurient director named – could you believe – Jonathan Stryker, smugly played by John Vernon as an overblown, imperious caricature. Exactly why this desirable role is up for grabs is more or less the driving force behind the inscrutable developments, the explanation of which dovetails nicely with the poignant conclusion. More of an old-fashioned drawing room mystery than a contemporary ’80s slasher, even if it retains many stylistic elements of the latter. All told, it presents (to me, anyway) an etymological quandary: Screwball, or “oddball”?
WHY DID I WATCH THIS MOVIE?
Wow, have I watched a lotta Canuck films lately.
SHOULD YOU WATCH THIS MOVIE?
Somewhat uneven and a bit of a farce (by design, that is, not through ineptitude per se), it would most likely be a change of pace.
HIGHLIGHT AND LOW POINT
The blasé manner with which one of the characters presents her misdeeds is fetching, and the discontinuous structure is noteworthy, as it randomly presents what appear to be two solo performance scenes, but I wasn’t kidding about the ending … and there’s the downside. Troubled throughout its production, the core of a really splendid achievement instead lies strewn about the remnants of its shell.
RATING FROM OUTER SPACE: B−
As this oddly delayed sequel began – a decade after the first installment – I confess, I really, really wanted to bag on it; the onset is not promising and it appeared as though it would be a cliché-ridden parade of stock characters and situations. Credit where it’s due, however – this film delivers exactly what it’s supposed to deliver, and it does it well. Not overly saddled with any particular panache, and devoid of much in the way of creativity beyond the overall “Strangers” framework, it’s still adept at ratcheting up the tension and producing effectively understated frights. Wisely, the palette is opened up a bit from the original, as the characters are not confined to one specific place, and although some of what could be termed “character development” verges on slasher-film shtick, it remains essentially rooted in realism. It IS a bit meta, however, occasionally evoking the line productions of the post-Scream era, and perhaps a bit predictable when it morphs into a revenge picture for a while. All told, a few groans don’t detract much. No classic, but it will entertain you well enough.
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 
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.
Yikes. Given this dreck, your intrepid movie guide is almost inclined to reconsider his grades for some of the other terrible films in this compendium, because this disaster is so awful that it makes duds such as Blood Harvest and Island of Blood seem like minor missteps. This stinker comes across like the result of an experiment: take components one normally associates with horror movies, blindfold somebody, and have him, her or it try to assemble said parts into a coherent whole. Hint: It “helps” if the actors cannot act, the vast stretches filmed in darkness are unlit or poorly lit – a “technique” one may remember fondly from “Scared Alive” – and the so-called “script” … may or may not exist. (Sample: Character leaves house, gets killed. Repeat with next character. ) Speaking of things that may or may not exist, this putrid mess has an honest-to-Pete score that disappears for much of the second half, making me wonder if the filmmakers forgot about it along with pacing, continuity, editing and cinematography. Body By Jake is the inexcusably aggravating PCP-addled killer in this terrible waste of time, and wow, I haven’t even mentioned the (presumably) KISS-inspired character appropriately named “The Mistake.” An embarrassment.
Sometimes, I watch a movie and I just wonder how it ended up exactly the way it did. Take this flighty little number: It plays essentially like a PG-rated family comedy, but it also includes some vaguely gory killings, flashes of nudity, a mislocated but frightening hallucination, and, unexpectedly, the band Sic F*cks. And Jack Palance, and Martin Landau, gleefully overacting as two deranged asylum escapees. Fans of the original NBC-TV series The A-Team will be glad to see “Howlin’ Mad” Murdock as the patriarch of the family in peril, and general film aficionados possibly will enjoy Donald Pleasence’s turn as the loopy, stoned head of the psychiatric institution turned porous by a power outage. Amusingly, the family never actually seems to be in the dark, thanks to the marvels of movie lighting. (Hardly anyone’s alone at any point, either.) Overall, a strangely effervescent experience given the subject matter.
Wow, where to begin with this slice of cinematic … excellence. First off, it really comes across like an excessively long (and gory) episode of Police Squad! Lousy acting, ridiculous story, unbelievable characters … Pieces has got it all, and then some. (From Wikipedia, as written: “The film has retained a cult following however among bad movie fans on account of its numerous logical absurdities, gaffes, unlikely dialogue and ridiculous moments.”) From the opening scene on, nary a credible moment can be found. What is most difficult to believe, given the script and the circumstances of the production, is that the cast seems to be playing it completely straight. The apogee for this viewer is the “championship” tennis match between two women who play as though they had never held rackets before – which turns out not to be far from the truth. The SHOCKING postscript appended makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, but it sure should’ve led to an even more implausible sequel, with the added bonus of potentially being in an entirely different realm of horror. A sadly missed opportunity, in my opinion.
More or less what the previously discussed Nightmare/Blood Harvest probably imagines itself to be, this little pic has most of what you want from a kill-crazy 1980s indie feature: actors you’ll never see again, no attempt to hide the killer’s identity from the audience, an offbeat attitude, a rockin’ homemade theme song, and imaginative death scenes. What do I mean by “offbeat” approach, you’d like to know. The theme song I mentioned is “Fall Break,” the original working title for the film. Think about that for a second, while considering that the majority of the action takes place in or around a beachside bungalow. The characters are of a similar bent – they’re caricatured but not generic – and the humorous elements remain subtle and never overwhelm, despite the fact that the entire plot setup is basically absurd. Even that fact is treated with a shrug of acknowledgement. Mutilator sets a reliable template for a successful slasher film, one which was rarely followed so well without becoming repetitious in the countless ensuing rehashes.
Much, much better than it has any right to be, this often forgotten gem features terror, on a train. Said titular vehicle is carrying a New Year’s Eve party of medical students, some with a shady tragedy in their past. Also David Copperfield, the magician. And also a terrific character actor performance by Ben Johnson in his role as the train’s engineer; and also Jamie Lee Curtis in her fifth scream queen role; and also a fairly transparent exposition for the identity of the evil perpetrator, albeit with plenty of questions and suspicion for everyone. Basically, this is a classic ’80s-type slasher without any of the cliché … okay, without most of it. A good one.
SPACE RATS From Outer Space 