Short Review: 'Big Tits Zombie' (2010)

In recent years genre fans have come to expect a certain level of chincy cheekiness when sitting down to Japanese splatstick titles like Tokyo Gore Police, RoboGeisha and Frankenstein Girl vs Vampire Girl - films with an inherent tongue-in-cheek approach to their deliberately absurdist subject matter and even more absurd titles. Knowingly ridiculous in almost every conceivable way, these midnight fare are often a bit of a slog to sit through but are sometimes peppered with genuinely striking imagery and uber-surrealist set pieces, making them at the very least enjoyable for a belly laugh or two.

Therefore, you would think that for those looking for cheap carnal thrills spliced with a healthy dose of spilled entrails and good-old fashioned monster mayhem could do no better than a film entitled Big Tits Zombie (aka Kyonyu Dragon). Right? WRONG. For I regret to inform thee that not only does this film not deliver on the assets of its name but it also features some of the worst manifestations of the undead ever seen, Eastern-bound or otherwise. Oh, and did I mention it’s also in 3-D? Yikes. 

Beginning with a flashback fight sequence of very little relevance, the film then rewinds back to the present day where we meet a select group of exotic dancers/strippers who one night whilst discussing love, lust and the finer points of Shakespeare (no, really), somehow stumble across a dusty old Book-of-the-Dead-esque tome in the bowels of their club’s basement. Intelligently, one of the gleeful gals then decides to recite a passage, knowingly giving rise to a horde of living dead ghouls hell-bent on destroying everything in their path. Oh, and then strippers transform themselves into kick ass, scantily clad, weapon-wielding zombie killers. Begin cheering! 

Don’t get me wrong, I adore bad movies. Practically three quarters of my entire home DVD collection consists of the cheapest, sleaziest, nastiest B-movie malfunctions known to man. However, there is also an art to making an endearing slice of cinematic cheese that many aspiring filmmakers out there clearly disregard or simply aren’t privy to. Big Tits Zombie could have – and should have – been truly magnificent and it is anything but. Instead we get one of the laziest, clunkiest, most unimaginative horror comedies to ever deface the genre and a true exercise in cynical moviemaking.

From the get go it becomes quite clear this thing was rushed into production as a result of title appeal alone and slapped together so quickly and haphazardly that even the most discerning fan would have a hard time finding anything worth savoring. The action is muddled, the costumes obviously home acquired, the humor is neither witty nor dull-brained enough to work and the zombie makeup…well let’s just say the local $2 shop made at least $46 or so by the end of the shoot. Granted, these films are almost always made on a miniscule budget, however when you can clearly see an undead extra wearing a rubber mask in an effort to disguise their face you know the concerns of the filmmakers lie clearly within the deep void of their own pockets.   

Aside from being a jumbled mess both technically and narratively the biggest offence generated by Big Tits Zombie is the disrespectful manner in which it treats its audience. While mercifully short at only 73 minutes there is never a moment during the film in which you the viewer feel as though you’re getting what you paid for. Are there big tits on screen at all? No. Are there cool zombies? No. Is the action insane enough to amuse? Hell no. It’s as if the team behind this asinine disarray predicted the value of your ticket purchase and made a beeline for a release date before they even knew what a splatter movie was.   

Simply put, Big Tits Zombie is one of the worst movies ever made with one of the best titles ever conceived. If you happen to find yourself with some buddies and a trunk of beer you just might enjoy this. Otherwise, go rent the far superior Zombie Strippers instead. At least that film has Jenna Jameson naked and Robert Englund pestering dancers with a fly spray can. 

Big Tits Zombie is AVAILABLE NOW from Madman Entertainment. 

 

Dir: Takao Nakano 

Writer: Takao Nakano 

Cast: Sola Aoi, Risa Kasumi, Mari Sakurai, Tamayo 

Country: Japan 

Run Time: 73mins 

Rating: MA15+

Short Review: 'Kidnapped' (2010)

Some of the most nihilistic films in cinema history are also regarded as some of its classics. Infamous titles like Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Salo (aka The 120 Days of Sodom), Michael Haneke’s Funny Games and Ruggero Deodato’s Cannibal Holocaust are but a few soul-destroyingly devastating portraits of humanity to ever tear through the silver screen, causing many to fervently protest their very existence. While brazen and confronting in almost every way imaginable, these films are also highly intelligent and full of socio-political commentary that only serve to heighten their lasting impact.

The 'home invasion' sub-genre is one somewhat regularly attempted, yet seldom mastered, with only a handful of memorably intense and lasting offerings (Wait Until Dark and House at the Edge of the Park anyone?). Moreover, for a format already so pre-disposed toward contextual significance, the possibilities for subversive interpretation within the framework are more than ripe, providing precisely the kind of creative platform a filmmaker hopes for. Interesting then that Spanish director Miguel Angel Vivas’s debut thriller Kidnapped is so technically accomplished and yet so frustratingly vacant in its near total lack of substance.

Middle-aged couple Jamie (Fernando Cayo) and Marta (Ana Wagner) and their teenage daughter Isa (Manella Velles) have just moved into a lavish new home and are settling in for their first night among their new surroundings. Suddenly out of the blue the family is jumped upon by a trio of balaclava-masked intruders who immediately take them hostage, demanding their money, credit cards and mobile phones. Separating the father from the rest of his family so that he can be driven to the nearest ATM to withdraw more funds, the burglars begin to increase the degree of their assault upon the mother and daughter, eventually pushing all those involved to the breaking point of extreme violence in the hope they might survive the night. 

Kidnapped is quite an anomaly of a film. On one hand it stands as a breathtakingly grim, frighteningly honest snapshot of human behavior at its worst, never for a moment flailing in intensity or brutality. In this sense the film is rather stunningly steadfast in its convictions and there’s no doubt Viva demonstrates an incredible command over the medium, both in terms of his technical prowess as a filmmaker (nods to the long-take format of Hitchcock's Rope are well played) and the frankness with which he approaches the unforgiving content of the material. Rarely has a movie plunged its audience so boldly within the nauseating chaos of a domestic violation the way this bad boy does.

Conversely, this nasty little number is also somewhat trivial and vacuous in its presentation, amounting to little more than an uninhibited depiction of a vicious crime, however masterfully executed it may be. There are many moments throughout the film where prime opportunities for compelling interaction between characters could have taken place that are never seized, scenes that falsely suggest a greater motive may be at play that are never justified and an effective yet perplexing opening that makes very little sense within the context of the proceeding eighty minutes. This is a real shame as Viva clearly demonstrates the chops to deliver more than just a surface-level thriller, however the overwhelming sense of dissatisfaction that pervades is too ubiquitous to ignore.

Despite its unrequited prospects for intriguing societal parallels and more meatier themes, there are few red-blooded nightmares out there as taut and concentrated as Kidnapped. Ultimately, this is a difficult recommend for the average Joe, especially those who consider themselves bereft of a high-tolerance to pain, suffering and general feelings of unease induced by simulated acts of sadism. The film is not a morality play but rather a deeply disturbing representation of undiluted cruelty and the damaging affects it can have upon the most vulnerable among us when faced with an inevitable fate. Just don't hope for much more than that and you'll come out the other side suitably unsettled.

Kidnapped is AVAILABLE NOW from Umbrella Entertainment. 

Dir: Miguel Angel Viva
Writer: Javier Garcia and Miguel Angel Viva
Cast: Fernando Cayo, Ana Wagner, Manella Velles
Country: Spain 
Run Time: 81mins 
Rating: R18+

Short Review: 'Stake Land' (2010)

It goes without saying that the vampire sub-genre has been alive and well in recent years. A common mainstay in film, television, literature and most other forms of popular culture entertainment (to varying degrees of critical and commercial success), Satan’s favorite undead bloodsuckers seem to command a particular admiration on behalf of audiences and remain one of the man’s most recognized and celebrated creations no matter what format they infest.

Interestingly though, there appears to have been an unusual re-modelling (pun very much intended) of these immortal monsters in much of contemporary fiction. With the Twilight series arguably being the main contributor in this trend, creatures that were once universally regarded as unpretentious, vile, hideous fiends with a contempt for the living have curiously digressed into more outwardly emotional, posturing, effeminate sub-humans with largely non-aggressive demeanours. For many of the genre’s devotees, this latest movement outwardly defies the very essence and appeal of the vampire mythos, leading to what many would call downright blasphemy.

One filmmaker clearly fed up with this development is up and coming director Jim Mickle (Mulberry St). His sophomore effort Stake Land - a love letter to the genre - is a vampire film in the truest sense of the word, complete with unflinching nihilism, sharp socio-political commentary and a sincere appreciation for classical forms of cinematic storytelling.

In a not-too-distant future, vampires have overrun the American landscape and the human population has severely dwindled, leaving pockets of survivors to exist amongst a decimated urban settlement of Wild West-style towns. Amid the chaos, Martin (Connor Paolo) is rescued by lone drifter ‘Mister’ (Nick Damici) and taken under his wing after his entire family are slaughtered in an attack by the undead on their home. Encountering a number of other survivors along the way, the group make it their mission to find salvation by traveling north toward ‘New Eden’ (aka Canada), battling the fury of their fanged foes as well as a perverted Christian spin-off tribe dubbed ‘The Brotherhood’ who roam the countryside in a effort to punish non-believers.

Stake Land is an odyssey film, through and through. In many ways the screenplay mirrors what is essentially is a traditional Western narrative, albeit here the threat of the rebellious outlaw criminal is replaced with that of vampires. The main character ‘Mister’ (portrayed beautifully by Damici) is also akin to the most iconic of archetypal Western anti-heroes, particularly those evidenced in the spaghetti efforts of Leone, Cardone, Giraldi and others, whilst the supporting players are very much the equivalent to the common sidekick and the villains forever in the pursuit for vengeance. In addition to epitomizing the rich symbolism of the material, the traditional format adopted by Mickle also works from a dramatic standpoint, further relaying to the audience the value of established thematic structures.

Also at the heart of the films’ screenplay is the idea of religious secularism and the ideological effect faith can have over the human mind when faced with insurmountably grim circumstances. By introducing the additional danger of ‘The Brotherhood’ the central menace of Stake Land becomes somewhat questionable and subjective. Who is more evil: the irrational God-loving fundamentalists or the vampires? The film constantly challenges its audience to rethink their moral compass and consider whether or not they feel the corruptible capabilities of human nature are potentially more destructive than the animalistic fury exhibited by fanciful creatures with large incisors.    

From a technical perspective, not everything about Stake Land is grandstanding. However, when taking into account the minimal funds Mickle and co had to work with this is easily one of the most impressive low-budget horror films to appear outside the studio system in years, especially for a film more or less depicting the end of times. Ryan Samul’s gorgeous 2:35:1 cinematography expertly captures the eerily barren landscapes of the roadside terrain, the melancholic score by Jeff Grace is evocative and often heartbreaking, and for those gorehounds out there in search of something to feast on you’ll be glad to know the FX work is largely top-notch. When these vamps go down, they go down in pieces.

In a cinematic age dominated by pretty boy bloodsuckers and tweens who aren’t phased by protagonists that harbor necrophilic urges toward men (Stephenie Meyer, you have some explaining to do), it’s refreshing to see a vampire film emerge that is both ferociously entertaining as well as intellectually stimulating; a rare combination not often sort after by contemporary audiences. While not a perfect film, Stake Land provides an undeniable level of enthusiasm and respect for an old legend that seems forever destined to remain immortal within the consciousness of popular imagination. Highly recommended. 

Stake Land is AVAILABLE NOW from Umbrella Entertainment. 

 

Dir: Jim Mickle
Writer: Nick Damici and Jim Mickle
Cast: Connor Paolo, Nick Damici, Danielle Harris, Kelly McGillis
Country: USA 
Run Time: 94mins 
Rating: MA15+

Short Review: 'Kill List' (2011)

 

Broadly speaking, the majority of filmgoers today are more inclined to walk away from a cinema feeling satisfied if their viewing experience is easily digestible. That is to say, most people are content when a filmmaker presents a story that is narratively apparent and stylistically obvious – something the vast majority of commercial fare strive to adhere to on a regular basis in favor of wide audience appeal. 

On the contrary, when a film evidently sets about to confront and challenge expected cinematic conventions, not out of contempt but rather in favor of reaching a deeper dramatic resonance, many viewers find themselves frustrated and disillusioned; a curious reaction but a common one nonetheless. On the surface, Ben Wheatley’s Kill List would first appear to be a straight-ahead crime drama about the lives of two hit men and the decimation of their professional relationship via marital dysfunction and emotional miscommunication. It is clear early on, however that the films' creative motivations are far more ambitious than the material would otherwise initially have you believe, giving way to one of the most complex, multifaceted and perplexing thrillers ever to come out of UK. 

Since returning from a disastrous mission in Kiev, ex-soldier Jay (Neil Maskell) has been out of work for eight months. With wife Shel (MyAnna Buring) and son Sam (Harry Simpson) to provide for, Jay is eventually lured back to the field by long-time work colleague Gal (Michael Smiley) to take part in a series of contract hits. Things almost immediately turn suspicious when their client displays an uncanny knowledge of their past, hinting at something ominous lying ahead. Furthermore, as the duo work their way through the kill list it quickly becomes apparent that Jay has some deep psychological scarring, a revelation that could not only jeopardize their current job but also impact upon their own lives in a way neither of them could have ever thought possible. 

Much like a jigsaw puzzle, Kill List is carefully nuanced and meticulously paced, laying down each of its plot points ever so subtly so that an eventual reconciliation might be reached come the final act. Wheatley excels at this structure rather brilliantly, displaying an impressively strong command over the material (of which he co-wrote) that when it finally comes time to reveal the true heart of darkness the maximum possible effect is unleashed, shattering everything that came before and leaving the viewer in a state of disturbed silence (or at least one would hope). 

As stated previously, Wheatley makes it clear from the get-go of his intentions to subvert genre trappings, opting for a far more naturalistic and ambiguous approach not only with regard to the performances but also the films’ stylistic priorities and story progression, lending itself far more toward the logic of a nightmare than a glorified hitman farce. Logic becomes distant, reality is contorted and all but a faint memory of contextual grounding remains. And while strikingly conceived and executed from a technical standpoint, the final denouncement remains somewhat vague in its implications, causing the viewer to ponder as to why the screenplay veers so far away from its original beginnings to conclude itself in the manner it ultimately chooses. In any event, the filmmakers at least demonstrate enough respect for their audience not to spell out the method to their madness.

Interestingly enough, the palpable veil of domestic unrest that exists at the core of both the films’ marital sub-plot as well as its murderous duo is perhaps more integral in perpetuating the story’s devastating fate and arguably where Kill List most succeeds as a horror film. Jay and Shel’s relationship is utterly believable and tangible, driven by two powerhouse performances by Maskell and Buring who infuse their words with a dramatic integrity unabashed in its delivery, eliciting both insightful and downright unsettling interpretations. Much of what is spoken in the film appears loose and improvised; a natural rendering of suburban milieu and likewise in the case of the cold, detached demeanor of the films’ trained killers. Consequently, when the destructive power of violence enters the lives of the characters the result is nothing short of disturbing. 

In the end, Kill List is a film predicated upon the totality of its climax and the insinuation with which it carries. For those who harbor no qualms the film will prove to be an undeniably atmospheric, enjoyably ambiguous chiller. To those more insistent upon a cardboard box with clearly defined quarters, this nihilistic little number will likely inspire a hefty prescription of Paracetamol. 

Kill List is AVAILABLE NOW from Madman Entertainment. 

Dir: Ben Wheatley
Writer: Amy Jump and Ben Wheatley
Cast: Neil Maskell, MyAnna Buring, Michael Smiley, Harry Simpson,
Country: UK 
Run Time: 95mins 
Rating: R18+

Short Review: 'Trailer Park of Terror' (2008)

Tis true that southern folk get quite the bad wrap in horror cinema. Predicated long before yet perhaps not truly acknowledged until 1964’s Two Thousand Maniacs, the ye’ old inhabitants of the United State’s lower third have involuntarily been pigeonholed as something to fear, thanks to the perpetuating of numerous stereotypes such as inbreeding,  and good old fashioned family cannibalism. No matter where you look within the genre, the ‘hillbilly’ will sooner to turn you into mince meat than offer you a complimentary alcoholic beverage at his/her local tavern.

So why has Hollywood historically committed itself to such a negative pigeonholing of societal perceptions? There’s definitely argument to be had that it makes for greater dramatic value, not to mention a distinctive sense of unease evoked by the many barren locales of rural backwoods America. Based on the Imperium Comics series of the same name, Trailer Park of Terror director Steven Goldmann takes the above cliché’s and much more to create one of the most shamelessly tasteless yet boisterously fun horror/black comedy romps ever to come out of the homicidal redneck sub-genre. And don’t worry, southerners; the country folk depicted here are primarily of the undead disposition.

Completely emasculated and without a shred of hope for a decent future, mobile-home dweller Norma (Nichole Hiltz) one day witnesses the accidental death of her boyfriend at the hands of local town misfits. After leaving momentarily to retrieve a firearm, Norma lays waste to her entire village and subsequently commits suicide. Twenty years later an unsuspecting busload of Jesus Camp travellers suddenly break down near by the infamous park and decide to spend the night. Little do the social outcasts know the establishment is now haunted by he undead corpses of those who died that one fateful day, including a zombified Norma sporting a secret plan to eliminate them all before sunrise!

Trailer Park of Terror is one of those unique direct-to-video indie horror titles that exceeds well beyond its intended audience appeal. Director Goldman takes the down and dirty attitude of the comic book and transposes it to the screen with a manic flamboyancy and impressive creative energy that is sure to tempt even the occasional horror fan into succumbing to its greasy charms. Moreover, the approach to the material is refreshingly unpretentious in its delivery, never for a second pretending to be anything more than a wild, macabre celebration of its inspirations. Visually the film is also a treat; Jeff Venditti’s cinematography is stark but lively, further complimenting the terrific makeup FX by Drac Studios, the inclusion of which results in some truly memorable moments of delirious bloodshed (the ‘frying’ scene, for example, is pure genius).

Also of interest to horror fans is Trailer Park’s continual nods to classic exploitation fare, particularly the work of exploitation pioneer Herschel Gordon Lewis. In addition to its mischievous tone, Goldman's exaggeration of the southern existence lends the film a certain satirical edge similar to that of the Lewis film (albeit with a far more supernatural agenda), allowing for a greater degree of jet-black humor during scenes of grotesque carnage. The majority of the performances are also knowingly camp and suitably over-the-top; Ed Corbin’s ‘Sgt. Stank’ the most animated of the bunch and easily the most gloriously disgusting.

On the contrary, the teenage characters of Trailer Park are by far the films’ biggest shortcoming. For whatever reason there seems to be a circulating trend among screenwriters of contemporary horror films to depict youths as so unlikeably obnoxious and socially repugnant that any chance for audience identification is eradicated almost immediately, thus resulting in the need to see them all die in the most horrible way imaginable. Almost every character in the film goes out of their way to insult, offend and abuse one another that it’s quite honestly a surprise most of them last as long as they do. Luckily there’s a legion of zombified hillbillies on their tail to rip out their tongues!

Let it be said there’s nothing particularly original or groundbreaking about Trailer Park of Terror, however its straight-up, no-nonsense approach toward the lurid excess of rustic backwoods terror is something horror fans are bound to respect in droves. If you’re a fan of what Rob Zombie has done thus far for his genre (Halloween and Halloween II not withstanding), this sick little puppy is sure to wet your drool cup to overflowing proportions. 

Trailer Park of Terror is AVAILABLE NOW from Madman Entertainment.


Dir: Steven Goldman
Writer: Timothy Dolan
Cast: Nichole Hiltz, Lew Temple, Jeanette Brox, Myk Watford
Country: USA 
Run Time: 91mins 
Rating: MA15+

Short Review: 'Vanishing on 7th Street' (2010)

Logic is something horror fans tend to give a pass the majority of the time, especially the tolerant devotee among us. For a genre that feeds off the vulnerability created by fear and one’s inadvertent willingness to surrender to forces unknown, fright fans are largely far more concerned with the prospect of being scared out of their wits than constantly questioning every aspect of a films’ internal reasoning. After all, who cares whether or not the buxom blonde was wearing a red bra in once scene and a blue one in the next?

With that said, the general public still likes to know and understand what the ground rules are. If an audience is to suspend their disbelief for ninety minutes within the realm of a supernatural milieu there must exist some degree of steadfast convention with regard to a story’s genetic makeup, thus indicating what is possible/impossible within those restrictions. Not so is the case with Brad Anderson’s low-budget apocalyptic creeper Vanishing on 7^th Street, a film technically impressive and atmospheric yet virtually clueless as to its renderings of storytelling regulation.

Disaster strikes on a seemingly average day in a downtown American city when close to an entire population disappears in an instant, leaving behind only the empty clothing worn by those once visible and a practically boundless absence of light. A small group of survivors including a TV reporter (Hayden Christensen), a physical therapist (Thandie Newton), a film projectionist (John Leguizamo) and a lone youngster (Jacob Latimore) hold up in an abandoned bar in an attempt to theorize the origins of the bizarre phenomenon surrounding them. With tensions running high and their emergency generator dying, the group must struggle to find a solution to the ever-encapsulating darkness before they too fall victim to its rapture.

Brad Anderson is a talented filmmaker, no question about it. His appreciation and understanding for the visual language of cinema runs deep and can be evidenced in his previous directorial efforts (Session 9, The Machinist, Transsiberian, Masters of Horror: Sounds Like, etc), many of which employ Hitchcockian methods of building suspense through methodical camera placement and clinical editing techniques. Unlike many other contemporary filmmakers who often rely too heavily upon slick visual effects and overactive sound design to garner shocks, Anderson’s obvious commitment to creating scenes of tension that linger in the mind is something to be commended, not to mention by those who have so clearly inspired him (Polanski, De Palma, Cameron, you know who you are!).

The film is also narratively credible in its refusal to designate a clear-cut protagonist. Each character featured here is portrayed purely as a victim of circumstance, never as a hero or anything that could be regarded as an authority figure by way of contrived events. This lends a level of believability and integrity to the proceedings as both viewer and the filmmaker are able to focus more on the dramatic events at hand rather than being restricted to a single perspective of action. With the exception of the typically bumbling John Leguizamo, the majority of the performances are strong and measured to fit the peculiarities of the story.

And then there's the logic...or lack thereof. For whatever reason Anderson and co never establish any discernible brass tracks with regard to Vanishing's villain, not to mention the almost complete avoidance of any and all future consequences for the characters come the films' perplexing finale. Where did the phenomenon originate? Is it a living entity or a figment of their imagination? Why is it adverse to the human populous? What is its ultimate objective? The film is at times unbearably frustrating in its total ambivalence toward its antagonist and as a result the viewer is forever left in the dark - pun intended.

Under any serious scrutiny, Vanishing on 7th Street quickly crumbles like a house of cards. Fortunately for most viewers, however the film still remains a moderately entertaining spook-a-thon, even if the makeup and motives of its ultimately formless enemy are guess-worthy at best. Just remember to keep the bulb of intuition burning throughout this one, for it will likely need as much illumination from your brain as possible to keep it alight.



Dir: Brad Anderson
Writer: Anthony Jaswinski
Cast: Hayden Christensen, Thandie Newton, John Leguizamo, Jacob Latimore
Country: USA
Run Time: 92mins
Rating: M15+

Short Review: 'The Resident' (2011)

The great Hammer Studios – arguably Britain’s most renowned horror film production establishment – is beloved by genre fans the world over, and with good reason. Active since the mid-1930s and recently revived after a three decade lull, Hammer’s unique trademark combination of palpable atmosphere, directorial craftsmanship, tangible sex and violence and intentional camp value have gone on to earn the company both a lovingly loyal appreciation from viewers as well as legitimate recognition from film critics once hesitant to adorn its pulpy appeal with any kind of praise.

Known primarily for their contemporary re-envisionings of classic monster fare such as Dracula, Frankenstein and the Mummy, Hammer also dabbled from time to time in slightly more conventional thriller fare (eg The Nanny, Fear of the Night, etc) in an attempt to widen their audience demographic, however to far less financial success. Unfortunately, it would appear the folks’ behind said prestigious organization have failed to learn from the past as The Resident, a hopelessly formulaic, painfully predictable yarn of inner city animosity ranks as a definite low point in an otherwise reputable oeuvre of filmic frights.

Juliet (Hilary Swank) is a medical doctor and has just relocated to the Big Apple after finding the apartment of her dreams. Her landlord, Max (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), somewhat of a loner but immediately smitten, eventually makes advances toward her and the two start spending significant time with one another. After a failed attempt at a sexual encounter, Max secretly installs complex surveillance equipment in Julia’s apartment and begins breaking into her bedroom at night to rape her. After a rekindling one night with her ex-husband, Julia uncovers Max’s secret obsession with her, a secret that will drive the two of them to the brink of madness...

In case you hadn’t already guessed from the gloomy intro, The Resident is aggressively dull in almost every conceivable aspect of common filmmaking. Director Antti Jokien never attempts at any point to elevate the mediocre material by way of inventive camera work, stylish atmosphere or an inventive soundtrack, instead succumbing to the frustratingly vapid nature of its conventional trappings and embedded cliché’s. Sure, there’s nods here and there to Psycho, Peeping Tom and other classic thrillers but if you’re expecting anything even mildly-inspired in terms of photographic eye candy…yikes.

Screenwriters Antti Jokien and Robert Orr similarly must have been on sleep deprivation medication when they conceived this masterpiece of prose, likewise with regard to their embarrassingly lazy attempts at character development and story credibility. At one point the films’ timeline literally rewinds backward almost thirty whole minutes in order to explain the antagonist’s whereabouts throughout the preceding scenes. Why? Because someone thought it was clever? I guess it depends on how you define ‘clever’.

Furthermore, for a film dealing exclusively in one man’s growing obsession with his next door neighbor The Resident’s characters are some of the most carelessly blasé’ ever faced with such a dilemma, particularly Julia who somehow doesn’t catch on to the severity of the situation until minute seventy-five (???). Granted, most of her screen time consists of scantily clad scenes in which she bathes, reads, sleeps…and sleeps…and sleeps again…the effect of which rolls off onto the viewer quicker than you might think. And let’s not even speak of the wasted cameo by the great Christopher Lee...

In the end The Resident plays far better as a midday movie on television than a privileged Hammer production for the ages. Needless to say, frenetic fans are best served if they steer clear of this dreary dreck. Keep those nostalgic memories as uncontaminated as possible, I say.



Dir: Antti Jokinen
Writer: Antti Jokinen and Robert Orr
Cast: Hilary Swank, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Christopher Lee
Country: USA
Run Time: 91mins
Rating: M15+

Short Review: 'The Violent Kind' (2010)

Back in 2006 directing duo The Butcher Brothers made a minor splash onto the genre scene with their independently produced and distributed sophomore effort The Hamiltons; an expose’ into the life and crimes of a fictional murderous nuclear family. The film was by no means a home run, however it was confidently directed and boasted some solid performances from all involved, holding a steadfast approval from the majority of genre fans at the time of its release. Consequently, the brothers were quickly identified as potential talents on the rise.

Announced almost immediately after the release of their previous film, The Violent Kind is easily one of the most bizarre genre mash ups to hit the independent circuit in the last ten years, combinging elements of horror, action, science fiction - even bikersploitation into the cauldron to create a delirious concoction of frenzied insanity unique to anything you’re likely to encounter amongst the bargain obscurities at your local DVD store. In fact, based on the cover art one might even mistake this film for a documentary about biker gangs. Oh how splendidly wrong they would be...

Cody (Cory Knauf), his cousin Q (Bret Roberts) and their buddy Elroy (Nick Tagas) are second generation members of a local motor gang in a dead end suburban town. In celebration of Cody’s mother’s birthday, ‘The Crew’ are holding a rowdy bash at a near by farm house in the woods with every trouble maker within a fifty mile radius guaranteed a spot on the guest list. All is tits and beer until fellow gang member Michelle (played by the great Tiffany Shepis) returns to the party after an illicit encounter covered in blood and rambling incoherently. After a failed attempt to restrain her, Michelle begins attacking her friends in a possessed rage, pulling the party to a complete standstill. Tensions amongst the crew mount even higher when a group of mysterious, 50’s era rebels emerge from the darkness to take them hostage…and what they have in store is anyone’s guess.

From a narrative point of view, The Violent Kind is near impossible to predict. The opening of the film would have you believe you’re about to sit in on a angsty biker flick lead by a contrived soap opera plot, however when the ample arterial spray sets in it’s all systems insane from thereon out. By the close of the second act we’re treated to a fusion of at least a dozen different sub-genres, all of which are quite confidently realized and strongly executed to form a most offbeat, Twilight Zone-esque mystery (that’s right, fellow nerds. I went there). And despite being mildly unfocused at times, the screenplay (written by the brothers) never fails to challenge its audience in preempting the next harebrained twist ten to fifteen minutes before a seed is even planted. In many ways I sympathize for the marketing team behind The Violent Kind, as it would have easily been one of the toughest movies to sell on anyone’s radar.

The film is also a treat to look at - an impressive thing to pull off for a low budgeter. Blending elements of gritty, uber-realistic violence and surreal set pieces with a retro-inspired wardrobe oozing with garish swagger, the brothers create a most distinctive visual branding for the film that works both as an experiment and an established look. Furthermore, the majority of the FX on display are practical and extremely effective, only ever relying on computer-enhanced imagery during the final moments by way of the story’s more supernatural developments. Rest assured folks, the movie lives up to its title.

Where the film veers to the way side, however, is in its relative lack of concern for its characters (if we are to refer to them as such). Perhaps too caught up in their efforts to portray the hallucinatory madness of the storyline, the Butcher Brothers fail to provide the opportunity for their audience to feel any legitimate empathy for the arguably faceless gang members, resorting instead to a rather flimsy subplot of romance that ultimately never eventuates anyway. The negation of even the most rudimentary character development in almost any other film is often a major issue, however the visual prowess on display here is just enough to camouflage the shortcomings of its prose. Just...

Despite a mild tenancy for stylistic self-indulgence, this subsequent outing from the Butcher Bros is best taken for its untamed voracity and malevolent cinematic mayhem, both of which make for a hugely enjoyable ninety minutes. This is undiluted spectacle splatter with a genuinely intriguing twist and it works beautifully within that framework. After all, the title of the film is The Violent Kind so it’s safe to say that irony is not a part of this gang's arsenal.



Dir: The Butcher Brothers
Writer: The Butcher Brothers
Cast: Cory Knauf, Taylor Cole, Bret Roberts, Tiffany Shepis
Country: USA
Run Time: 89mins
Rating: R18+

Short Review: 'Die' (2010)

Unless you were positioned somewhere in the outer solar system or hadn’t ever heard of a little invention called the ‘internet’, 2004 marked somewhat of a financial and industry milestone for the horror genre with the release of the now infamous Saw, the directorial debut of Melbournian filmmaker James Wan. Ranking in an impressive box office and earning mostly hefty praise from critics and fans alike, the film struck a dramatic cord with audiences through the combination of its unique gimmick and twisted moralistic viewpoint, creating a winning formula that would inspire a legion of imitators (eg, House of 9, Are You Scared?, Gag just to name a few). Love it or hate it, the film was an undeniable jab to the heart of a then-struggling genre.

Taking much of the same core ideas and plot structure from the Wan film, the cheekily named existential shocker Die is every bit a rip off as the aforementioned title. Fact. However, a fortunate spate of strong directorial influence, more-than-competent performances and a genuinely reflective screenplay serve to elevate the film well beyond the inept wannabes of the direct-to-video grab bin.

Six seemingly unrelated strangers (Elias Koteas, Emily Hampshire, Patricia McKenzie, Karl Pruner, Katie Boland, Fabio Fulco) who have at one time or another attempted suicide are kidnapped and held prisoner by a mysterious man (John Pyper-Ferguson) who forces them to play deadly games from inside an undisclosed warehouse locale. One by one the victims are asked to determine the fate of another by the single roll of a die, doing so under threat of death by their captor. As the stakes are raised and reality becomes blurred beyond recognition, who will survive the fight for freedom?

There are many things to admire about this relatively low budget effort, not the least of which is director Dominic James’ refreshingly firm grasp upon the complex language of film, as evidenced throughout many of Die’s terrific suspense sequences. The action is consistently well photographed in gorgeous 2:35:1 anamorphic and posited well against the films’ quieter, more restrained moments of tension. A deep range of sepia tones, dank shadows and sparse lighting permeate almost every frame, emphasizing the resounding sense of oppression and dread brought upon by the grim subject matter. The film is also impressively produced and features an exceptionally lush production design; something rarely found in this type of fare.

Furthermore, Die brings forward a fairly inspired collection of strong performances to the table, most notably Ferguson as the films’ lead villain. For a movie that deals so unforgivably in the value of human life and the extent to which one will go in order to survive one could have easily propositioned a maniacal, wise-cracking, larger-than-life scoundrel to head the mayhem. No so here. The measured, persuasive - even charming presence of ‘Jacob’ defies common genre convention in almost every way imaginable and makes for a genuinely intriguing antagonist. Oh, and a criminally underrated actor to say the absolute least.

Of course, Die runs the obvious risk of losing a good portion of its viewership by way of an unavoidably pretentious storyline, more specifically the moralistic high ground it uncomfortably – and almost immediately - asks its audience to take on board. Granted, the screenplay doesn’t necessarily preach to any one particular ideology of thought, nor does James pretend to be dogmatically superior to his audience, however the film does predicate itself upon long-winded scenes of somewhat forced dialogue about human existentialism and destiny that could make the more casual observer regurgitate a three course meal in mere seconds. In other words, atheists beware!

It’s arguable that Die is far more a thriller than a horror movie, at least with regard to its visceral and dramatic content. However, that would be missing the point as there’s a definite macabre heart at work here backed by significant talent that help transport the relentlessly somber vein of the story to greater heights (or depths, if you will). In the end, if you’re willing to accept a knowingly pompous scenario (in addition to disregarding said Saw influences) and roll with it without giving a second thought, this will prove a thoughtful little number well worth your brain power...and survival.



Dir: Dominic James
Writer: Domencio Salvaggio
Cast: John Pyper-Ferguson, Elias Koteas, Emily Hampshire, Patricia McKenzie
Country: USA
Run Time: 91mins
Rating: MA15+

New DR Review: 'Descendents'

Evening, cretins!

The world is once again overrun with the undead, this time ghouls harboring a particular aversion to the young and defenseless in my latest review for Digital Retribution. Originating from the genre-lite country of Chile, micro-budgeter Descendents is high on ambition and even greater in heart; two things many contemporary horror films lack. But is it all roses and cherries?

CLICK HERE to find out more!

Short Review: 'Tony' (2009)

It would appear there is something profoundly attractive to many filmmakers with regard to true crime incidents. As we all know, the media often serves as a significant point of inspiration for many creative minds, particularly when a sensationalistic story infiltrates the public zeitgeist and becomes something more than just a series of attention-grabbing headlines. Consequently, much like a fictionalized novel has the ability to inspire faithful artistic adaption, unlawful acts committed by human beings in reality continue to bestow an inherent allure for those looking to manifest them in narrative storytelling.

While a definite point of contention for conservative minds, nowhere can this practice be better observed than in the serial killer film. Morally precarious, dramatically risky and often downright dangerous, these notoriously niche films have simultaneously provided movie goers with undeniable classics (eg, Silence of the Lambs, Se7en, Zodiac, etc) as well as positively horrific bombs (anything directed by Ulli Lommel) and strangely remain one of cinema’s most profitable sub-genres to this day. In many ways comparable to the crimes of Dennis Nilsen, serial slayer biopic Tony depicts a life gone horribly awry in a small London suburb and a search for meaning and hope in the face of disillusion.

Tony (Peter Ferdinando) is a loner, a social outcast living on the fringes of human association. He lives by himself in a dingy apartment block located in an underprivileged suburb of London, riddled with crime and unsavory types wandering the streets at all hours. Unemployable and introverted to the extreme, he spends his time mulling over action films from the 1980s on VHS and spooling through pornography in the hope of filling some undefined void. Despite his best efforts to connect with the outside world, he continually winds up being the talking point of ridicule and is often ignored by almost everyone around him, including members of the same sex. However, unbeknownst to many, Tony possesses an inherent penchant for violence and moonlights as a serial killer, luring his victims under false pretenses of socialization before snuffing them out either with an electric cord, a bed pillow or a rusty hammer.

There is no discernible story or act structure embedded within Tony, as the film functions more as a temporary insight into the habitual activities of a methodical killer and the results endured upon those who fall by his hand. First time director Gerard Johnson is careful to keep the viewer at a consistent arm’s length from the films' central character, allowing for an interesting torment of moralistic identification to emerge and brew throughout the proceedings. Are we meant to sympathize with Tony? Is he a product of a failed society or simply a monster by birth? Ambiguities with regard to Tony’s past – more specifically his upbringing - are intentionally withheld in order to further obscure the psychological mysteries lurking beneath the madness, thus painting a more complex portrait of a deteriorating mind. Needless to say, lead actor Peter Ferdinando is exceptional in the title role.

And it is precisely this steadfast refusal to provide easy answers that makes Tony the powerful film it is. Johnson could have easily taken the convenient rout and populated the film with characters quick to pass judgement upon Tony but instead the beautifully nuanced performances from the supporting cast are kept as objective as possible. From Tony’s employment officer and television license inspector to the prostitutes and porno shop clerks he encounters, every external character serves a specific dramatic purpose with regard to his interaction (or lack thereof) with the world around him, the landscape of which is hopelessly nihilistic and unrelentingly grim.

It also must be said that films like Tony certainly aren’t for everyone, much less those quick to condemn films’ that deal in such subject matter. Many filmmakers tend to pigeonhole real life criminals into a confined demographic of social exile perpetuated by obscurity when professional investigation continues to reveal a reality more tragic and sad than anything out of a murder mystery novel. WARNING: you may be repelled by this film but you may also be endlessly intrigued…and disturbed.



Dir: Gerard Johnson
Writer: Gerard Johnson
Cast: Peter Ferdinando, Frank Boyce, Lorenzo Camporese, Cyrus Desir
Country: UK
Run Time: 72mins
Rating: MA15+

New DR Review: 'The Secret Life: Jeffrey Dahmer'

Morning, cretins!

The horrors of real life receive a closer inspection in my latest review for Digital Retribution. Made for the price of a rice crispy treat, little known TV film The Secret Life: Jeffrey Dahmer is one of the most unique introspectives into the mind of a serial killer you're ever likely to see, not to mention one of the most unrelentingly grim.

They don't make em' like this bad boy anymore.

CLICK HERE to read the write up.

Short Review: 'Road Train' (2010)

There have been several Australian genre films made over the years that have depicted the country as a place to fear. Whether it be the camping grounds and oceans of Long Weekend, the barren landscapes of the Northern Territory in Wolf Creek or the secluded mangrove seas of small town villages in Black Water, there has scarcely been a single aspect of the continent’s renowned environment left unscathed and/or unexploited for the worst possible reasons. Either there are more cynical local screenwriters out there than we think or Australia really is the land of the damned.

One avenue of the country’s backdrop to be recently revisited (taking into account Richard Franklin’s Road Games from 1981) is the wide-open highway and its endless milieu of desolate wilderness. Fusing elements of the former, Spielberg’s Duel and even The Twilight Zone this modestly budgeted debut from young filmmaker Dean Francis has all the right talent in place and yet somehow fumbles the ball in almost every way imaginable until its guts are literally strewn across the highway.

Traveling cross country for a camping trip are four twenty-somethings: Craig (Bob Morely), Liz (Georgina Haig), Marcus (Xavier Samuel) and Nina (Sophie Lowe), all of whom share an awkward truth of infidelity among one other but have nonetheless managed to remain friends. During their trek across the deserts of the outback they come into contact with a rather hostile operator of a semi-trailer (or “road train” to those hip folks out there) who in turn inspires Craig to recklessly pursue the vehicle, resulting in the group crashing their car off the side of the road. With their Jeep a total write off and no help in sight the group attempt to find salvation, that is until the road train itself continues toying with the youths, luring them under its powers with a mysterious mystical attraction that begins permeating not only their rationalism but also their sanity...

The first thing you’re bound to notice about Road Train is its impressively handsome visuals. Regardless of budgetary constraints, few Aussie genre films put in the time and effort to look good, however Francis and cinematographer Carl Robertson completely re-write the book in this regard by making every frame of the movie count. Be it scenes of action, quieter character moments or simply the capturing of featured landscapes, the film never fails to lose grip of its hawk eye composure.

Unfortunately, almost everything else about Road Train from here on out is beyond the pale of watchable (believe me, I wish that were an exaggeration). After the first fifteen minutes have elapsed and the youths have begun their desperate search for help, screenwriter Clive Hopkins wastes no time shoehorning in so many unnecessarily convoluted plot developments and absurd story tangents that the movie immediately loses all sense of direction and focus, making viewer compliance nigh impossible. Furthermore, not one character makes a decision that would fall under the umbrella of common sense, nor do they at any time appear to have any idea as to what the hell is going on around them – much like the viewer! – therefore one’s willingness to empathize with their plight never comes into consideration for a second.

Are we meant to be so confused? Is the trajectory of bizarre events intended to boggle the mind into complete disorientation? Granted, this is a supernatural horror film but robbing your audience of any and all narrative comprehension – a basic requirement of any storytelling – is a fatal move at best.

Stupefaction of Road Train is further intensified through several instances of stilted, embarrassing performances, the majority of which never feel confident enough to ground the film in any semblance of reality. With the exception of Xavier Samuel the rest of the supports spend much of their screen time stumbling around in a haze, only occasionally delivering the goods during moments of extreme duress. Moreover, by the time the final act comes rolling in and character’s lives are that their most vulnerable the movie has already alienated its audience so much for the conclusion to have any impact at all.

Perhaps the biggest culprit behind the ultimate failure of Road Train is its insistence in trying to catch the audience off guard. Ironically, in doing so they somehow managed to create one of the most frustratingly bewildering horror movies to ever come out of the local genre scene. My only hope is that Francis can get a hold of a sharper script come his next fright venture, as his obvious flair for visual storytelling desperately calls for something more adept than this nonsense.



Dir: Dean Francis
Writer: Clive Hopkins
Cast: Bob Morely, Georgina Haig, Xavier Samuel, Sophie Lowe
Country: Australia
Run Time: 90mins
Rating: MA15+

Short Review: 'Penance' (2009)

As we all know, the recently popular term ‘torture porn’ has become something of a staple in contemporary horror film criticism. Sometimes misrepresented and unfairly attributed, the supposed sub-genre was arguably spawned with the release of Eli Roth’s Hostel back in 2005 and took swift flight thereafter, inspiring many low budget filmmakers to push the boundaries of accepted screen violence, especially with regard to what the multiplex will tolerate. Needless to say, with human suffering being its primary driving force this breed of fright fare can be either genuinely compelling or woefully uninspiring.

And what better underground environment to set a torture film than in the world of a stripper? A match made in exploitation heaven, right? While low-budget indie Penance may initially appear to be classic drive-in fare it gradually morphs into something far more intriguing and challenging to the senses, advancing ideas about gender, morality and sexuality most films of this type never dare to press past the treatment page.

Amelia (Marieh Delfino) is a desperate single mother struggling to pay for her young daughter's life-threatening health afflictions. Running out of options and in dire need of money she reaches out to her friend Suzie, a professional stripper, who coaxes her into doing a few shows of her own in order to raise funds. When she reluctantly accepts a high-paying job for a questionable client, Amelia is kidnapped and brought back to an undisclosed abandoned hospital where she meets pseudo-preacher (and former surgeon) Geeves (Graham McTavish) who in turn informs her of her 'impurity' and propensity for 'sinful behavior'. Trapped, tortured and facing an impending fate, Amelia is forced to fight her way out...or become but another emasculated victim.

One of the most effective angles taken on by director Jake Kennedy with Penance is the POV perspective. The film begins somewhat unassumingly as a video confessional with Amelia speaking directly to a handheld camera (operated by a close friend), the intention of which to have it serve as a record of her efforts to earn money. As the story progresses and she becomes more and more entangled within a world beyond her control, the camera never leaves her side and remains a constant point of surveillance throughout her ordeal, forever a reminder of her intention to document. While at first appearing as a cheap gimmick (i.e., found footage), Kennedy quickly turns your expectations ninety degrees to the left by using the roaming camera as a crucial tool in bringing you deeper and more uncomfortably into the mindset of the antagonists.

Within the framing of this style (both figuratively and literally) is the screenplay’s introduction of a moral power play between its hero and villain. Geeves (an impressively powerful performance by McTavish) is a self-professed messenger of ‘God’, put on this earth to ‘purify’ those women whom he perceives as unclean and worthy of damnation, whilst Amelia (an equally courageous turn by Delfino) is merely a victim of circumstance, initially driven to avenge her maltreatment out of self defense. However, when Amelia comes to understand the greater picture behind Geeves’s rhetoric she eventually takes it upon herself to represent all those persecuted by him, thus delivering her own hand of righteous retribution in the name of her fellow female captives.

What’s particularly interesting about the finale is Kennedy’s refusal to take the easy rout; Amelia could have easily dethroned her aggressors through sexual mutilation or another symbolic method of physical punishment but instead she conjures up something far more unexpected and psychologically lasting, thus exemplifying their pitiful existence. Still, there remains a significant exploitational angle to Penance, so let’s just say onscreen bloodshed is by no means in short supply.

A far more ambitious film than his previous zombie feature debut Days of Darkness, Jake Kennedy proves with Penance that he is a serious filmmaker with genuine talent and an understanding of the importance of transgressive subject matter within genre cinema. More importantly, the film rises above most torture porn fare by making a serious attempt to deal with greater ideas as opposed to a mere fixation upon the systematic degradation of the human form. While it may prove a little too nihilistic for the casual viewer, horror fans seeking something with a harder dramatic edge could do a lot worse than this gritty ball buster.



Dir: Jake Kennedy
Writer: Jake Kennedy
Cast: Marieh Delfino, Graham McTavish, Michael Rooker, Alice Amter
Country: USA
Run Time: 85mins
Rating: R18+

Short Review: 'Easter Bunny Kill! Kill!' (2006)

There is a certain mean-spiritedness sorely missing from today’s breed of exploitation movies. Almost everything exhibited on 42^nd street during the 70s and 80s and later released on VHS prided itself with grisly nihilism and gloomy cynicism, rarely allowing audiences the chance to breathe a sigh of relief or run to the bathroom to upchuck their popcorn and soda. As much as today’s fan boys sincerely try to recreate this bygone sentiment very few succeed, instead delivering pale imitations of more defined sleazy favorites.

But just when you thought these movies were something of a dead art form, a demented little title comes along that reaffirms the notion that a light of inspiration as sordid as the films it spawns is still very much alive in the hearts of a wicked few. While by no means a display of filmmaking perfection, director Chad Ferrin’s fiendish Easter Bunny, Kill! Kill! exhibits a level of ugliness and twisted dementia that is near pitch perfect for this type of bizzarro cinema.

Mindy (Charlotte Marie) is a struggling single mother living with her mentally retarded son, Nicholas (Ricardo Gray) in a dilapidated, barely renovated home. One day Rhemington (Timothy Muskatell), a slimy grifter from off the street, charms Mindy into becoming her new love interest despite constant disapproval from Nicholas, whom is almost immediately ridiculed and abused by the new man of the house on a regular basis. Moreover, the only comfort the young boy gets is in confiding with his new pet rabbit. One night when Mindy is a work, Rhemington hits the town and returns home with a duo of hookers and his pedophilic buddy Ray (David Z. Stamp), only to find the house completely empty with no sign of Nicholas. Little do they know a killer lurks in the shadows, intent on delivering systematic justice…in a bunny mask no less!

Ferrin is clearly a fan of cinematic grime and slime. The manner in which he tirelessly infuses his film with a sensibility so vile and nasty is nothing short of striking, especially considering the ultra-low budget means at his disposal. Once again this is by no means a condemnation, in fact much the opposite, as Easter Bunny Kill! Kill! looks and sounds as if it were shot on an old 8mm camcorder, ingested via an AV connection and exported onto a BETAMAX tape, resulting in one of the most authentically scum-encrusted exploitation movies of the last ten years. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Furthermore, the films' unbridled repulsiveness is enhanced by Ferrin’s spot-on casting of Muskatell as the heinous, misogynistic stepfather of sorts. From the moment he slithers onto the screen the film immediately garners an even stronger sense of maniacal insanity as Muskatell delivers his lines with both tongue-in-cheek narcissism and unrestrained vulgarity, overpowering almost any supporting player that enters the frame with him. Gray is also hilariously shameless, if not a little over the top, providing the audience with even more reason to feel awkward and uneasy.

Easter Bunny Kill! Kill! also delivers the grisly goods in a particularly sadistic DIY fashion come the final act. The murderous rodent of the title uses a wide array of household appliances and ornaments to dispose of his/her victims including hammers, circular saws, broom handles and much more, all with bloody abandon and horrific finesse. The kills are also rather skillfully shot and edited, consisting of short, sharp bursts of brutality and brute force that make each thug’s demise appropriately jarring to the eyes and ears. Interestingly, the film is rarely gratuitous in its presentation of violence.

Despite some sluggish pacing and a slight over reliance on its singular location to tell the entire story, Easter Bunny Kill! Kill! retains a special level of nostalgic malevolence you simply don’t get at your local multiplex, or most chain video stores for that matter. While it may be tough for some to stomach, those more accustomed to having their DVD player infested with glorious grime are almost guaranteed to find something of garish delight in this wonderfully tasteless little abomination.



Dir: Chad Ferrin
Writer: Chad Ferrin
Cast: Timothy Muskatell, Charlotte Marie, Richardo Gray, David Z. Stamp
Country: USA
Run Time: 90mins
Rating: R18+