All genres of suspense, terror, and horror will be reviewed by Richard Gary. His address to send preview copies supplied upon request to rbf55@msn.com.
At 50 minutes, this post-apocalypse
comedy thriller is too long to be considered a short, yet too short to be
considered a feature. I appreciate that the director made it just as long as it
is supposed to be, without much filler, or a truncated story. Plus, it helps
with the micro-budget, which I respect. It is also a perfect length for festivals.
In a similar theme to “The
Last of Us” television series, this story is about the survivors of a fungal
infection that transforms the affected into zombie-like people, who seem to
want to spread the disease more than eat living flesh.
Filmed mostly in black and
white, we meet artist/videographer Diane Keaton (Alexandra Slade; any relation
to Noddy Holder? Sorry…), who survived a massacre in a secured basement. She
manages to get to another floor and meets gruff General Gore (Nick Young). He
makes no bones that he is a hardass, giving similar, yet militarily edged vibes
of the John Goodman character in 10 Cloverfield Lane (2016).
I am not sure if the virus
was caused by a war, or the war was caused by the virus, but there seems to be
very few survivors, either by the infection or by gunshot (hence the basement carnage).
The black and white gives
this a noir feel, and the lighting is impeccable; it could be now, it could be
a 1940s film, though the assault rifles are a giveaway. The constrained spaces
of the rooms, the steam pipes, etc., give it an eerie, almost claustrophobic
feel, especially Gore’s habitat (okay, room). They slowly make their way
through the underground complex, not quite sure where they are going or how to
get out. Or if there is anything worth getting out for.
Diane (whom Gore calls String
Bean), is a Lefty, and cigar-chompin’ Gore definitely on the militaristic war
mongering Right, yet they occasionally find common ground. His comments, such as
his hostility towards LGBTQ in his comments, betrays that leaning. But through
it all, he’s more accepting of everything, where she is, well, let us say grumpy,
having trouble accepting a situation she does not appear to remember getting
into. Gore seems to keep her around not just for the only company, but for
procreation to get the world restarted, with him as its leader, like it or not.
Meanwhile, Diane misses
her girlfriend, Eva (Kathryn Schott), who we see (in color; there are a couple
of other color sections) in archival footage shot by Diane in the prologue.
As with Alice down the
rabbit hole, Diane and Gore transverse the space running into unusual
characters, such as a hairy and philosophizing “rat” man, Berenger (Michael C.
Burgess), among other surprises. Is this real, or is it part of hallucinations
due to a supposed vaccine they take?
While esoteric at times,
this short feature (see what I did there?) never talks down to its audience,
but at the same time keeps the attention throughout. A really well-made film.
Available on Troma Now!,
TubiTV, Plex, Prime Video, Apple TV and Xumo, among many others.
Lately I have been reviewing some heavy, psychological and
arty films. Well, now it is time to kick back and watch something completely
ridiculous to cleanse the palate. And what better than swollen testicles with a
mind of their own. Body parts with attitude is not new, with the likes of Teeth
(2007), She Kills (2015), and Killer Rack (2017).
We meet our bubba-esque protagonist,
Chad (Mike Hartsfield) as he is on a road trip. He’s a salesman, and he is on
the phone talking smack to his coworkers, and even his mom. Not the most
likeable shlub in the world. He’s the redneck who wears a cap that reads “Ask
me about my butthole.” That kinda guy.
Stopping at a rest stop, he is bitten
by a bug that – er – gives him a bug: the titular Cojones Virus. At first he’s
sick to his stomach (did they really need to show close-ups of his vomiting?),
then watch him writhe (while driving) in pain as his testes engorge. But once they’re
the size they are going to be (big enough to sling over his shoulder), he calms
down and even has two-way conversations with them.
Through this all, Chad is shoving gum
in his mouth, and smoking incessantly, sometimes three at a time (including occasionally
one of three with filter out). And he talks to himself a lot (exposition for
the viewer). In fact, though there are other voices, Chad is the only one we
see on screen the entire time.
Yes, this film is quite ridiculous,
but it is purposely so, although it would be just as effective it was under 30
minutes. Listening to him whine for most of the second half got a bit tiresome,
though at the same time understandable: I would whine too if I was in his
position.
While there are a couple of scenes at
rest stops or on the side of the road as Chad pukes, nearly all of the film is
from the passenger seat, focused on driver Chad (though there are also numerous
shots of the sometimes-beautiful scenery of Arizona; could Chad represent the
right wing that is ruining that state as a social commentary?).
Some of the director’s other films
include the Death Toilet franchise (you heard me; I think there is five
in the series), and a documentary about local 1990s hardcore music, Orange
County Hardcore Scenester (2013).
I don’t really know how I feel about this
film. I like the premise, and that it is goofy AF, but the length is a bit
daunting. If you get a chance to see it, give it a try. You might find yourself
on the ball.
Evil Head: Dead by Dong
Directed by Thomas Smith
Fighting Owl Films; Troma Entertainment
9 minutes; 2022
From the excellent work I have seen by director Thomas Smith,
mostly it has been in the PG-rating arena, such as The Night Shift
(2010) and Demon Squad (2019). As with the others, there is a
strong comic element to the demonic story.
We meet the two leads and only two living characters, Carla
(Erin Lilley) and Steve (Scott Alan Warner), as they are mid-hooking up from a
blind date. Sneaking off to get some “inspiration” (i.e., an erection), he
accidently spills some mojo juice from a bottle on a two-sided (of various sizes),
dildo that Carla seems to have left on her bed. Somehow, this gets the dildo
demonically possessed with a one-sided mind of its own.
The dildo attacks several holes and sprays green goo
ejaculation, while Carla and Steve fight back as they can. Are these two
destined for each other? Will the evil dildo win its bid for sexual domination?
These are all explored in the story, which had me laughing.
Some of the images are dark blue in hue, but all of it is
easy to see, and if you like soft-core adult content even with little nudity presented,
this is a hoot.
George
Romero famously said that his …of the
Living Dead franchise was not about zombies, but rather about the culture
into which the zombies were thrust. For example, the focus of his Night of… (1968) was about racism, and Dawn of… (1978) concerned consumerism.
On some scale, Meat… could be looked at
in this perspective.
The locus
of this film is on cannibalism, but the main clique who perpetrates these heinous
acts is also corporate cannibals, eating away at the telecom industry to ingest
it into their own system. Director Silvio delves into Hershell Gordon Lewis (d.
2016) territory to achieve that point.
Crystal Aura
Cindy
(Crystal Aura, aka Crystalann Jones) is a Catholic High School girl in trouble.
She lives in a town named Satan’s Place (filmed in Romero’s back yard,
Pittsburgh, PA), she saw her mom, Janet (Tiffany Apan), killed in front of her
the year before, her boyfriend dumped her for blonde bimbo Amber (Angie Azur), and
she’s in a drunken relationship with her professor dad (Tony Clemente) that
rivals Mackenzie Phillips. The only person who will give her the time of day is
new classmate Christian (Dennis M. Kusluch II, who looks a bit like Tab Hunter);
it is ironically noted in the film of the irony between his name and where he lives.
Cindy is also the focus of a lusty older nun (Kathy Bothem) and a tribe of forest
cannibals reminiscent of The Hills Have
Eyes (1977).
Christian
has to be one of the worst male heroes in cinematic history: he gets physically
beaten by just about everyone in the film, but of course the question is will
he rise to the occasion by the end? I’m not going to give you a head start with
the answer, but it may not be what you expect.
As this
was originally connected to Troma Films, it is hardly surprising that Uncle
Lloyd Kaufman does his specialty, and has a creepy cameo, stealing his scene.
And speaking of screen absorption, the lead villain of the piece (and there are
many bad guys) is head cannibal
honcho, Cassandra (Diana Silvio, who is the co-writer whose name is credited
first, Assistant Director, and married to the Director). She’s a sexy MILF with
cleavage to spare, and has no qualms diving right into her story.
This tale,
as with David and Diana’s films to come such as Fetish Girls Die Laughing (2012) and Babes in Psycholand (2019; both reviewed on this blog site), rely
heavily on the fetish subgenre. Here, we are presented with the likes of tickling,
feet, girl-on-girl fighting, peeing, older men/younger woman, sexual asphyxiation,
cattle prods, and chloroform.
There is a
delicious (pun intended) sense of humour that runs throughout the film, such as
puns and snarky dialogue, but my favorite by far is Sherriff Hogg and his
sister being played by the same actor (Al Torcaso), who seems to relish it.
Perhaps I should add cross-dressing to the list of fetishes above?
One
complaint I can see coming across about this film is that nearly all the
victims are female, with few exceptions. However, being the brainchild of Diana
Silvio, might this be excused? Would she be called a gender traitor by Second
Wave feminists? My answer to that is… whatever.
I get annoyed at releases that are exceedingly misogynistic, but this film is
open to what it actually is, as are the rest of Silvio’s work: it’s a
fetish-fest from beginning to end, and makes no bones about it (this time, pun
unintended), and I respect that.
Diana Silvio on the left
There is
no nudity (though hints of it), implied sex, and lots and lots of gore. The
squishy moments are also what happens to the gore, among other bodily fluids,
which just feeds (there goes that pun again) into the release’s sub-genre.
The tone reminds
me quite a bit of the female gang films of the late 1950s, such as The Violent Years (1954). It’s
definitely a negative feel as the characters are all shady in one way or
another, even the heroine (though Christian is the least so, but he’s “new to
town”).
The thing
about fetish films, even if one is covering a wide swath of obsessions, is that
there tends to be a particular audience that is attracted to the form. None of
my own fetishes are covered here (I’m a proud wuss), but I still enjoyed the
oddness of the film because, well, I like odd films, especially those on minuscule
budgets. I guess one could imply that
was my fetish.
The film reminded me of what is said in the
play Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of
Fleet Street, “The history of the world, my sweet… / is who gets eaten and
who gets to eat.”
This is not your father’s Caesar and Otto.
Let me ‘splain.
The Caesar and Otto franchise is like the Abbott and Costello collection (and I certainly
am not the first to make that comparison) in that they are a series of films
about the same two characters; here, they are half-brothers who share a dad, and
have a deeply conflicted love-like-hate relationship.
Caesar (Dave Campfield) and Otto (Paul Chomicki)
In previous films, Caesar and Otto’s Summer Camp Massacre (2009) or Caesar and Otto’s Deadly Xmas (2012), Caesar
Denovio (Dave Campfield) was pretty unlikeable, kind of like Stinky Davis (a
pre-Three Stooges Joe Besser) character from the “The Abbot and Costello Show” (1952). The character also had a weird,
halting, annoying voice. Well, here’s the change: Caesar has matured – a bit –
and some of what made him so criticized has been taken away. He’s not as one-dimensional
and shallow, he’s not as mysteriously girlish (despite the opening sequence),
and he’s definitely not as mean. Don’t get me wrong, Caesar’s not a guy you
necessarily want to hang out with, but Campfield has done a spectacular job
revisioning him as a fuller, more realistic character, and occasionally
likeable, which makes it easier to identify with him without taking away what makes
Caesar Caesar. Oh, and that voice is mostly gone. From the commentary, that
also works well with/for Campfield.
Less is changed about Otto Denovio’s (Pau
Chomicki) slovenly demeanor, but he is also softened a bit. He was always
likeable, but here he becomes more of a big, smelly (wash that orange shirt
already!) teddy bear, still looking for love, or for this film, his long-lost,
thought-to-be-dead mommy (Beverly Randolph, one of the leads in 1985’s The Return of the Living Dead). One
thing that hasn’t changed I’m happy to say is that Otto’s voice, or rather his Lon’Gyland (aka Long Island) accent, is
still front and center.
With many horror comedy films, you can view
this as just plain silly, but if you are wise to the ways of indie spoof horror,
you will recognize just how smart a film it actually is; definitely the
strongest of the series to-date. I may be giving away too much too early, but I
enjoyed all of this film.
One of the smartest things about the premise,
which I’ll get to shortly, is that Campfield breaks down the fourth wall to
make many meta comments, such as the fact that in most of the Paranormal Activity franchise, nothing happens, until the very end, the
rest being dull. But the meta part is the indication that like reality
television, the found footage subgenre
is actually a sneaky way to make inexpensive films with little crew (e.g., no
camera people because it’s either the actors who are doing the shooting, or the
cameras are just mounted on walls), yet tend to bring in decent bucks.
Another
finger to the side of the nose is the in-jokes that follow through all of the
CandO films, such as Avi K. Garg’s Police Chief character getting seriously
hurt but being okay, and losing limbs that are just resewn on again and agan
(his “Oh, come on!” line reading is
hysterical; oh,
and shhh, check out the Easter Egg commentary by him). Additionally,
there is the main villain, the nearly Satanic Jerry (Ken MacFarlane) and his
minion, Roberta (Samantha Barrios), who return from previous CandO excursions.
Also, CandO themselves have some shticks they repeat, such as jumping out of a
moving car when mad (it’s a humorous bit).
JamieLee Ackerman
The
plot is, well, bizarrely fun and a bit all over the place, as is almost always
true in spoof comedies because there is so many references (more on that
later). Our hapless bros and their scene-stealing father, Fred (Scott Aguilar)
take a job housesitting for Jerry’s mysterious mansion for the season, where
lots of weird and Ooo-WEE-oo (hear
that as played by a Theremin) paranormal
activity seems to be happening. There are also two servants, one a lovely
lass gardener named Gilda (Josephine Iannece, aka JoJo, aka Campfield’s
real-life girlfriend), and the other a quiet and kind of scary chef, Kyla
(JamieLee Ackerman, posessing a lovely Irish lilt), who always seems to be
carrying something sharp. Next door to the abode are a couple of high IQ’d retired
Playboy bunnies, Jamie (Troma queen Tiffany Shepis) and Judy (Stef Barkley).
Like
most of the CandO franchise, it always feels like it’s a mix of horror and a
kind of twisted 1930’s farce in that the action and the dialog happen really fast (thus I recommend more than a
single viewing since I had noticed things all the times I watched it). It’s
important to pay attention, because things come
and go so quickly around here. This is true of the especially subtle bits,
such as someone getting slapped and the sound is off-sync’d, or words and hints
that are written in the background with magnetic letters.
Some
of the references are pretty obvious (Halloween
[a mix of 1978 and 2007], Paranormal
Activity [2007], The Shining [1980],
etc.), but picking out some of the hopelessly obscure ones are also fun. For
example, and I’m not sure if this was intentional or not, the half-circle openings
on the porch reflect nicely on the “eyes” of the house in The Amityville Horror (1979), also referenced within the story. Adding
a clip from the Campfield short Piggyzilla
may also reference the pig seen in the window of the original Amityville. Perhaps I am overreaching?
Brinke Stevens and Brinke Stevens (check your pants)
Every
opportunity is taken to inject some humor with a nod and a wink, such as some
title cards; for example a church called Our Lady of Low Production Values.
Most of the dialog is filled with nuggets: Jerry mentions that previous
caretakers at his house went crazy from isolation (sound familiar?), but when
we see the house, it’s just on a suburban street. Or there is a brief
commercial for stronger deadbolt locks, reflecting on an earlier, funny gag.
Another throwaway bit, again about previous housesitters, is mentioning “that
guy who resembled James Brolin and tried to kill his whole family, and then
married Yentl.” Then, as the Fred tells Otto, “…Your mother died a couple of
years before you were born.” Did I mention that two grave diggers are named
Lenny and George (no mention of rabbits, though)?
There
is also a very sly bit with an exorcist priest named Fr. Jason Steiger, named
after two horror priest actors, Jason Miller (d. 2001) of 1973’s The Exorcist and Rod Steiger (d. 2002) of
The Amityville Horror (joyfully
played by CandO regular Deron Miller), where he’s turn over to the “Vatican
Police” by a fellow priest named Jude (John Thomassen) for $30. These lines are
spoken so fast, it’s easy to miss some of these gems. And if you think I have
said too much, I have barely put my paddle to the water.
Maximo "Frank" Sorrentino and Felissa Rose
An additional gem is the maaaaaany cameos
that show up frequently. To name drop just a few, there is the ever lovin’
Debbie Rochon (too many great films to credit just one), Andre Gower (lead kid
in The Monster Squad [1987]), Sean
Whalen (Twister [1996]), Vern Wells
(the main mohawked villain of Mad Max 2:
The Road Warrior [1981]), Brinke Stevens who is one of foremost scream
queens of the modern VHS-and-beyond era (as a twin wallet-stealing ghost;
again, too many credits to pick), and Paul Guay (creator and co-writer of 1987’s
Liar, Liar). In a really nice and
thoughtful placement as a media-minded married couple who deal with psychic interactions,
are Maximo “Frank” Sorrentino (of the TV show “The Sorrentinos,” and brother of
“Jersey Shore’s” “The Situation” Sorrentino) and Felissa Rose (actor / producer of indie films).
Why is this so exquisite? Because they were both together in the early slasher
classic Sleepaway Camp (1983); Rose
was the lead.
There is some well-done gore (e.g., head
smashed under a car wheel) as well as some cheesy stuff (a mannequin head, for
example, in a fantasy sequence). For nudity, as is consistent with a CandO film,
there is a single acknowledgedly gratuitous topless generic scene (in Deadly Xmas, it was in a shower, here it’s
at a strip club). Doesn’t matter, it’s the story that still keeps you in your
seat.
Now, let’s talk about some of the extras on
this loaded disk. First, there is an interesting commentary with Campfield, Iannece and Ackerman.
A second commentary has a number of cast and crew, including Chomicki and Aguilar;
it gets a bit hectic telling who’s who, and there is some talking over each
other, but there’s lots of good info, as well. The viewer also gets a short
Blooper Reel, a Facebook promo video with Campfield and Ackerman, a really nice
tribute to the late cult actor Robert Z’Dar (d. 2015), a 50+-minute on-set audio
podcast interview with Campfield and cast members (including Rochon), and the
complete “Son of Piggyzilla Trilogy (commentary available), which lasts 6
minutes. Of course, this being a part of Wild Eye Releasing, there are a number
of cool trailers, some of which I’ve had the pleasure to review.
For everything I whined like a little bitch
about the last film, that’s how much I liked this one. It is a really good
laugh, a well-researched film, and an attention keeper – especially for those
genre geeks – from the first second to the last. There have been plenty of horror
spoofs, such as the Scary Movie
franchise, A Haunted House (2013; the
sequel was in 2014) and Vampire’s Suck (2010),
with the exception of the first Scary
Movie (2000), they all fall to the wayside in comparison.
So make sure you stick around for the final
credits, as always with a CandO film, and I’m looking forward to the reported
next film in the franchise, Caesar and Otto’s Spring Break of the Living Dead.
Anthology films are sort of like what
people say about the weather: Don’t like one story?Another one will be on soon. Here, you have a
serving of five tales to, in the words of the press machine, “make you faint,
puke and quite possibly soil your pants.” Now there, my friends, is a slogan
from sloganland. Or is that Tromaville?
Lloyd Kaufman
After a hysterical intro by the Troma-tic
Lloyd Kaufman, we are introduced to the wraparound story of the earth after 95
percent of its population has been wiped out by an Ebola plague (nice sarcastic
albeit dated note). Dr. Fry (Scarlet Fry) in a flimsily made bird mask and a bad Central
European accent gives us the lowdown and introduces us to a verbally nasty and
literal talking head named…wait for it…Mr. Headly (Executive Producer Paul
Hemmes). Fry fires up the projector
and introduces them.
First up is “Sledgehammer.” No,
nothing to do with Peter Gabriel, this one is about baseball. Perfect timing as
the Mets and Cubs head into the World Series. Why this matters, I don’t know,
as I’m not a sports fan. But I digress…
Murderous Mr. Met?
The southpaw trying out for a team is
known for his 150 mph fastball, referred as the…well, you get it. Prodded into
it with not so nice results, he gets signed anyway. In this story the attacker
is no surprise, but it doesn’t matter. The acting is wooden, the story is
short, and the gore effects are pretty enjoyable (though the blood is a bit too
thick and dark, but what the heck). There is a sharp ring of comedy that runs
beneath the surface that adds to the fun.
In Anytown, USA, in 1993 (as the
title card announces), we are introduced to “Cannibal Pen Pals: The Dahmer
Obsession.” A gay man who is married to a fiery black woman (to please his
family…obviously they don’t live in Ferguson) has been having a pen pal romance
with imprisoned Jeffrey you-know-who, and wants to go to him and have a conjugal
visit. Of course, Dahmer wasn’t allowedvisitors due to the horrific nature of his crimes, including having sex
with dead corpses, both whole and, as Dr. Herbert West said in Re-Animator (1985), parts. Of course,
our nutzoid pal wants to know what it was like so he can join Dahmer in spirit.
But one thing we’ve learned from the first story and it looks to be a trend,
there is going to be an O. Henry/Twilight
Zone twist. This story is somewhat questionable about a number of
socialsituations (go ahead, call me PC),
but it’s definitely more cohesive a story than the first, and equally as
off-the-wall.
If you’re into this kinda stuff, I’m
going to guess you’ve seen those horror prank videos where some shmuck in a
clown outfit chases some stranger in a parking garage with a sledgehammer or
chainsaw. I’m waiting to hear about one of those assholes getting their shit
kicked. Anyway, the next story, “April Fool’s Party,”is a similar idea with a twist. A group of
four meth heads decide to scare the tweaking dealer of theirs in an elaborate The Purge-like – you guessed it – April
Fool’s joke (my friends know better than to try any AF shit on me, but I
digress…). Of course, things don’t go as planned.
You can tell that this bunch of dickheads
have no sense of proportion by the bad teeth and red around the eyes (classic
meth signs). But what drove me the craziest about this story is that it could
have been so much more, and the ending is a bit anticlimactic.When it ended I had the double thought of “Is
that it?” and “did I miss something?” Perhaps being a story about drugs and me
being mainly strait-edge means I missed the point of the story, the same way I
don’t get Cheech and Chong.
“Septic Shock” tells the shit for
brains story of a double cross ending with a man locked into a not-so-empty septic
tank by his wife and her lover. Of all the stories, this one is the most artistically
done, and we get to see – and somewhat feel – his fear, and revolt at his
circumstance. Not sure about the turtle eating celery, perhaps that’s a bit too symbolic and metaphoric for me.
Still I was impressed at the direction it went. That being said, it went on a
bit too long, but that’s just something subjective, so what the hell do I know!
That's HEADLY, as in on a Headly of Lettuce
The final, and most coherent story,
is “The Deadly Indie Drive-In,” which is actually quite a simple tale, which
makes it work so well. A woman on a date at a drive-in theater forgets her
medication, and soon starts hallucinating that the person on the screen and the
voice coming out of the speaker are talking to her, and telling her to… I’m
sure you can figure it out. This was a lot of fun, even if you see the
punchline coming.
For me, what makes this so much extra
enjoyable is that the woman, Kim Wagner-Hemmes, is the real-life wife of the
man with whom she’s on a date, Paul Hemmes, and the person whispering sweet
murder in her ear from the screen is Scarlet Fry, the director. This incestuous
working bunch seem like they are really having delight doing this, and when it
comes right down to it, ain't that the point of the whole excursion in the long
run?
One of the things that I find really
special about this film is that there is absolutely nothing supernatural going
on, but rather it’s everyone being all too human, especially in the foibles
department. Make that deranged, actually, or as the publicity states, “Each
[story] featuring the three M's of Horror: Madness, Murder and Mayhem.”
What also makes this work all the morebetter (as they say colloquially in my neck of Brooklyn), is that
just about all the cast is everyday looking
people, not model types. Some are chubby and balding and others unconventional
to Hollywood standards and expectations; you know, not people you would
necessary see in an ad selling Rolexes. I appreciate that. No nudity, but the
gore is plentiful and quite decent looking, in an indie micro-budget kind of
way.
There’s no way around it, this comes
off as a VHS-style cheapie with visions of grandeur and reality based in
Quiki-Mart productions. In other words, if you like your horror old-school ‘80s,
you might get a kick out of this in a nostalgic, Throwback Thursday kind of way; or you may just be lucky enough to
have a low enough sensibility of denial
of reality to see beyond the film itself to what they are trying to reminisce: enjoyment.
Before
I start discussing the film on a deeper level, let me explain what we’re lookin’
at here: Betty (Jessica Zwolak) works hard for the Double D Collections company
(“Proudly handling your assets”), but she is the only woman in the office with
a low-end cleavage, so her chances of advancement by her boss (the
irrepressible Michael Thurber!) fall kind of – er – flat. Her boyfriend Dutch (Sam
Qualiana) is no longer interested, and even the horndog cat-callers on the
corner won’t even give her the time of “woot.” She has such a low self-image,
she can’t see that her friend and co-worker, Tim (Paul McGinnis) is in love
with her. Even her therapist (Lloyd Kaufmann, King of Troma, plays an actual
role, though it is a bit of an extended cameo, rather than his usual quickies)
is on the snide side to her.
Debbie Rochon
She
visits a shady doctor (who’s has the words “Plastic Surgeon” handwritten on a
piece of paper and taped to the door) named Dr. Cate Thulu (Debbie Rochon, one
of my fave queens of indie horror). Thulu has her own agenda, as she serves a
Dark God by the name of Mammora (you heard me), and plans to help it control
the world by… well, I’m guessing you’re already there.
This
is a comedy on a few different levels. It is stupid and goofy as hell, but
there is a very sharp intelligence that runs through it if you’re paying
attention and can look up to it in the face. Similarly to Monty Python’s Flying
Circus, you can get out of it what you want, but there is definitely more than
it appears. I’ll get to that in a paragraph or three.
Most
of the acting is expectedly just a bit over the top as well, but it’s definitely
less demonstrative than the awful AC-ting
work of, say, John Lithgow in 3rd Rock
from the Sun. There definitely are some shining moments from most of the
cast, especially from Rochon, who has a particularly good sense of comedic
timing, even when her eyes are so emphasized; the brows look like they could be
about six inches above her head. She and Thurber actually co-starred in one of
my favorite films in the last few years, the very dark drama Exhumed (2011), though they share no
scenes together in this one.
Shot
around the Buffalo and Cheektowaga area (what, no Tonawanda?), City Hall makes
its appearance in the first scene, a place I visited often in the 1980s when I
would go and visit a record collector friend who worked there for many years. Most of the filming is
actually indoors, but it is good to see some recognizable places. But, as I’m
wont to do, I digress…
Jessica Zwolak, Paul McGinnis
One
of the great things about this film is the savviness of references that run throughout.
Some are quite obvious, such as Betty showing up the first day after the enhancement
saying “Tell me about it…stud,” but it’s the more subtle ones that made me
laugh the hardest. For example, after the operation, Dr. Thulu’s assistant,
Nurse Herbie (Robert Bozek) takes the exact same stance as Ernest Thesiger in
the 1935 classic, The Bride of
Frankenstein (see at 1:54 HERE).There is also a moment where some demonic-sprayed
breast milk starts melting a businessman’s face, who whines, “Oh, no, not
again!” This is particularly funny because he is played by Roy Frumkes, who wrote
and produced the 1987 film, Street Trash.
An alternative poster
Along
with the bizarre non-sequitur musical showtune number in a dream sequence (“All you need
is a pair of funbags”), there is a lot – and I mean a lot – of out-there humor. For example, there are take-offs of other
films such as Tim saying “With great cup size comes great responsibility,” one frustrated
co-worker of Betty snidely comments, about Betty’s enhancement, that for
herself, “They’re real, and they’re spectacular,” and a great line at the end a
comment made by two detectives that I can’t repeat because it could ruin the
ending. Speaking of which, the two detectives? They are named Bartles and
James.
Pay
attention whenever Dr. Thulu and Nurse Herbie get together, because they are hysterical,
and play off each other so well. For example there is this dialog:
Nurse:
I don’t have any good lines! [he says
breaking the fourth wall, reminiscent of a line from Monty Python during the
mattress sketch, when Carol Cleveland laments, “But it’s my only line!”]
Dr.:
You’re the assistant! All you need to say is, “Yes Mistress!”
Nurse: I refuse to be Igor; I’m way too pretty!
Rochon
really does steal the film, and not just because I’m a fan. Just her reading of
impatience at Betty’s getting undressed for an examination, saying “For the
sake of the Dark One, would you take it off already?! C’mon, chop-chop!” gives
some idea of her acting – er – chops.
One of the Killer Racks
I’m
sure this will come into scrutiny as some heavy-handed killer female anatomy,
but actually it’s quite a decent look at the way society views body image.
Feeling inadequate due to small bust size is not male fantasy, but rather the
way we are all mediated by prominence of the likes of the Kardashians and Kate
Uptons. The film also addresses the male version of that at one point near the
end of the film, which would lead perfectly into a sequel that I’m pretty sure
is not in the plan (but would be welcomed by me). Speaking of which, stick
through the end credits.
There
actually is a history (subgenre perhaps?) of one aspect of the film, which is
body extensions, be it for evil or not. On the not side, of course, there’s Marshall McLuhan’s image of technology
being the extension of the body, such as the pen for the hand, glasses for the
eyes, and computers for the brain. The evil side is more Cronenburg’s early
work, such as Rabid (1977) and Videodrome (1973). More recently killer
female anatomy could be seen in Teeth(2007)
or appendages from transplants such as in Dustin Mills’ Night of the Tentacles(2013).
I’ll
admit I was looking forward to this as a bit of empty-headed fun. What I got
instead was a multi-layered social treatise that was intelligent, psychotic,
and yes, goofy. It was one of the more enjoyable films I have seen this year
because it was so smartly ridiculous. And if you’re into it, as a drinking
game, take a sip every time you recognize a reference. If you’re a film maven, I
guarantee you’re gonna get smashed (not that I’m recommending that…).
That
bon mot is true, y’know: location, location, location. That’s the
only way anyone can really explain the cameos that appear in Balsamo’s films. I
mean, Lloyd Kaufman (king of Troma), Debbie Rochon (a queen of scream queens), Lyn
Lowery (early indie horror goddess), Tim Ritter (fellow low-budget director of some
classics like Creep), Andrew W.K. (overrated
rock singer), Dave Brockie (GWAR’s Oderus Urungus), Joe Flieshaker (the rotund Mayor
of Tromaville) and even Tom Savini (the Chuck Berry of modern gore SFX) If these
films had been shot anywhere else than around New York City, the odds of this caliber
of presence would probably never happen. My guess is that he met many of them at
horror-cons, most likely the NJ Horror-Thon (I still remember going when it was
called the Chiller Theatre Con). And by the way, Acid Bath Productions has a great
animated logo. I’m just sayin’.
Within
the first five minutes, you know you are going to see a brain-dead film that will
be fun from beginning to end. The devil (and his minons), who claims to have brought
on the Holocaust, 9/11 and The View, sends
a film script to two “idiots” who decide to take the three stories and make an independent
movie. These two maroons are the director,
James Balsamo, and his frequent partner in crime, Michael (“Mike”) Shershenovich,
the director of the film Bloody Christmas
[reviewed HERE];
they also share many of the same cast. The song in the opening credits informs you
of what the tales will contain (just follow the bouncing skull). Obviously the filmmakers
are taking this project as an act of joy, so fuck it, why not do the same.
As
a sidenote, after the first couple of episodes of Gilligan’s Island started, the producers also gave it a “fuck it,| and
made the decision not to focus on the reality of where all the clothes and props
came from, or anything else, deciding to make it story-based episode by episode;
a similar philosophy is apparently present here, for the better.
The
first story, “Tomb of the SS,” is starts with some present day Nazis (one has a
thick New York accent, who is watching two topless women dance like the models in
the Robert Palmer “Addicted to Love” video, except in SS hats). The New York Nazis
take over an archeological dig in Afghanistan (looks like some beach out on Long
Island), where they force the hero (director Balsamo) to read some hieroglyphics
that raise an army of Egyptian (in Afghanistan?!) mummies that attack the group,
even though he never does get around to any translating! Somehow a Russian air force
pilot (Shershenovich) gets involved. It’s all done with great bravado and in heroic
tones, with Balsamo talking in that cinematic condescending tone to humorous effect.
Hell, while there is no surprise and the blood and gore couldn’t look more fake
(as is true with the rest of the film), the story is a hoot. I could see it in another
dimension being a solid Amazing Stories
episode with different writers, actors and director, of course).
The
second story is called “Earth is on the Menu,” not to be confused with the classic
Twilight Zone, “To Serve Man.” In this,
a meteorite a la The Blob, takes over
some people via pink vines up their noses, and winds up at a local Battle of the
Bands (held at Lulu’s Village Pub, Port Jefferson, NY),
where it’s a greaser group vs., well, Balsamo on a stand-up bass. Obviously none
of them play an instrument and barely try. The creature finally pops out of someone
and is essentially a bend cardboard sheet with what looks like either silly string
or really thick, colorful paint on it. Oh, and did I mention the very visible strings
moving the tentacles (see the trailer)?
Of
course, a defender from another planet aka Dave Brockie as Oderus Urungus, appears
(he also has an extremely funny take as a bartender sans mask). Nothing like having
a being from another planet scream out, “He’s got me! Jesus Fucking Christ!” It
comes to a battle of the bassist and the beast. Nah, I’m not gonna tell ya the result.
The
last story, “The Mark,” is the most convoluted and ridiculous of the three, or to
but it this way, the most fun of all the pieces… and the others had me laughing,
too. There is a lot of religious imagery in this one, from both the Christian and
Jewish perspectives. The central character is a man (Balsamo, again) who is into
astral projection, or as his ex-girlfriend calls it, “asshole projection”. He’s
worried about what he’s doing while he sleeps (apparently killing evil people by
pulling their spine out of their eyesocket), so he seeks out his rabbi, Lloyd Kaufman
(!), who has the payot (hair curls) attached via a band on his head, like earmuffs.
He offers Balsamo a plate of bacon and mentions a woman coming to teach a topless
Torah lesson. Oy!
This
segment, which was originally supposed to be a kung fu flick as shown in one of
the extra deleted scenes, ends up being a hot mess, with ridiculous and dubbed over
dialog, absolutely no sense of sequence (it’s not for nuthin’ that a common theme
of the film is a distaste for narrative filmmaking), utterly no continuity, and
possibly a hint of racism. How nuts, you may ask? Well, the title refers to a mark
on the main character’s back that is mentioned a number of times, but is never shown.
In other words, ten pounds of crap in a five pound bag that – if you’re like me
when it comes to indie horror films – you will be happy to be immersed.
Between
the stories are fake commercials, trailers, and other bits, including an extended
promotion for Troma Studios with Kaufman, as well as the masked later versions (as
opposed to make-up) of Toxie and Sgt. Kabukiman. The Kaufman bits are funny if hammed
up (pun intended), though the Tromaville P.D.
etc., bit is kinda whatever.
I found
it interesting that this movie was obviously filmed over an extended time, probably
as shorts put together with a thread. The quality of the actual images changes pretty
often. For example, in one of the between bits, with Lyn Lowery (over)playing a
script agent, suddenly the visual is of much lesser quality, sort of like it was
film on VHS and transferred.
Extras
include the trailer, a blooper reel of the first “Tomb of the SS” bit, and the aforementioned
unused kung fu clips of “The Mark.”
This
film is, undoubtedly a waste of time, but what a great way to squander an hour and
a half. Think I may watch this again, now… I’ve got time to kill.
In
the middle of a gun battle in (Afghanistan?) (Iraq?), two besties get caught in
an ambush, resulting in an act of cowardice that causes the other to get shot in
the throat. Informed that his injured friend will probably die while in a German
hospital, the unharmed Joe Bava (Billy Walsh) smugly tells his pal, Dennis Berkowitz
(director Balsamo) that he is taking the credit for saving the supposedly cowardly
Dennis, which includes a medal and honorable discharge. This makes Dennis angry
enough to live and seek revenge on anyone associated with Joe.
Berkowitz
(really? A multiple killer named Berkowitz? Hasn’t that been done enough in real
life?) busts out of the hospital leaving a trail of bodies of the doctors who saved
him (?), where he really could have just walked out. Hmmm.
We
come back to New York (referred often in title cards as “New York, NY” rather than
just “New York City”), where Joe is a drunken, braggart ass, and Dennis kills just
about anyone who runs across his path in various and semi-imaginative ways (e.g.,
a sandwich shoved down a throat and a pair of hedge clippers). Meanwhile, there
are numerous scenes seemingly thrown in as filler, such as someone giving a wrestling
lesson, or the bizarrely tattooed in real life barbell boy Tim Dax. Oh, did I mention
that there is another serial killer thrown in for one scene for whatever reason?
Hey, this all leads to a decent body count.
The
cast in this film is huge, with nearly 50 roles listed in the IMDB, most of which
have speaking roles, many of which seem to be ad libbed. While this never seems
to be confusing, as the revenge story line is paper thin and the rest is just short
pieces (pun intended) of the disposal of people. To tell the truth, I’m totally
okay with that. Why invest in a fodder character when their screen time is so limited.
Besides, it’s the killings that we want to see anyway, right?
As
par the course, the writing is okay, though there are some genuinely intentionally
funny moments (and quite a few of the other kind). The acting is kind of, well,
there, kinda-sorta, with some genuinely decent readings (Rochon, for example, clearly
and literally phones in her role, but she comes across quite natural in the moment).
One
of the major characters of the film is also the largest filler: multiple shots on
the streets of New York. Mostly it’s just a few seconds of buildings or crowds,
and it’s fun to pick out where is what (there is one shot that I am totally baffled
by, perhaps in a borough). Yes, this does make the film longer, but that’s exactly
what Easy Rider (1969) did, though in
that case, there was more music over scenery than actual story. At least it certainly
felt that way. But I digress… Like most of the film, these shots are single-camera
and handheld. I would recommend that if the budget does not permit a tripod, then
with all the filmmakers involved as cast, surely someone must have a spare to be
borrowed, please. Then again, I’m grateful this is not a “found footage” level of
shaky.
As
for the music, there’s a lot listed, including by the Meatmen and other screamo
/ death metal bands of whom I am honestly not familiar (possibly where the budget
went?). They should have used Chesty Malone and the Slice-Em-Ups, in my opinion.
Check them out, James.
While
the acting is questionable and the writing passable, the effects do range from laughable
to quite decent. There’s quite a bit of spatter, though the actual event is not
shown in very much detail. For example, in the opening scene, there is a totally
naked male body, sans head (upper; lower is intact). Or you’ll see a sharp object
get raised, a quick close-up of something, and then the person dead in whatever
bloody shape. Of course, there’s lots of nudity, piercings and tattoos.
There
are a number of extras, such as the trailer, deleted scenes (meh), a gag reel (pretty
funny), a music video of “Destructor” by Ghoul (who appear in a full-song, sync’d,
extended stage performance in the film), and an interview with the artist who drew
the DVD covers, Brooklyn-based Jeff Zarnow.
All
in all, if you’re into the whole Troma zeitgeist, this will fit in pretty way to
that canon.
Cool as Hell Produced, written
and directed by James Balsamo Acid Bath Productions Wild Eye Releasing 90 minutes, 2012 / 2013 www.WildEyeReleasing.com www.MVDvisual.com
The third
opus here is just one of five flicks Balsamo has filmed or has in production for
2013. As par, this one is also sex and drug and rock’n’roll…well, death metal, anyway.
As with most, it is a horror comedy.
Don’t
get me wrong, I believe that Balsamo fares much better with comedy horror like Hack Job than with a more serious slant,
as with the more straightforward I Spill Your
Guts. The former is a lot more, well, forgiving
than the latter.
Here,
we meet the main protagonist, comic book store manager Rick (Balsamo, of course),
and his roommate and best friend Benny (stalwart Dan E. Danger). Both of them combined
seem to have a double digit IQ. Rich wears only Hawaiian-style shirts and has two-tone
hair which is often referred to in the story as a “cheetah” (though it’s just yellow
on top, dark on the bottom, rather than patterned). He talks rather like an AM disc
jockey, but at a junior high school level. A loveable schlub? Yeah, I guess. But
a monolog he has about a superhero comics shows why he strikes out so often.
In fact,
the tone of the film and these two characters just smack of early Kevin Smith, with
Balsamo being the (un-)Silent Bob and Danger the quirky, off-center Jay. Even in
the early days of Clerks (1994), Smith
showed more filmmaking competency than Balsamo, but you know what, where I found
Smith to be clever but dull, I enjoy most of Balsamo’s output more (with the exception
of Dogma [1999], but I digress…). There
is more of a level of whatever in Balsamo’s
work, possibly due to having so many films in such a short amount of time to really
concentrate on proficiency, but it’s just so stupid and inane, that it gives genuine
laughs.
The plot
(no need to use the work “thickens” here) is as sort of as follows (most of this
is on the DVD cover or coming attractions below, so I’m not giving much away): a
green demon named Az (Billy Walsh; great make-up) – short for Azmodius? – is somehow
enthralled to Rick, so of course Rick wants to use him to get laid. Did I mention
there is a LOT of female nudity (and even some softcore shots), as usual? Rick meets
the possible girl of his dreams, Ashley (the cute and toothsome Lauren Adamkiewicz;
I hope Balsamo uses her again, as this is among her only credits). Her boyfriend
is a macho loanshark bully / dick who abuses her (Balsamo regular Frank Mullen,
who is also the vocalist of the Long Island-based death metal band, Suffocation)
and is constantly threatening Rick. He swings the “fuck” word as much as most people
use “the.” Along the way, a portal to hell opens which releases a bunch of zombies
(again, great make-up on the few we see) onto the streets of New York – including
Patchogue, NY, where much of this was shot. Will our loser hero rise to the occasion,
even after being given a bong that never runs out of weed by a blue and yellow booger
named, well, Booghar?
A theme
that runs throughout the film, to an amusing albeit overdone motif, is Rick accidently
bonking into people who curse him out, including members of numerous death metal
bands that appear on the soundtrack, or actors he managed to shoot for very brief
cameos, such as David Naughton (the lead in An
American Werewolf in London in 1981). Many of the stars that appear on this
film, such as Laurence R. Harvey (of 2011’s The
Human Centipede II: The Final Sequence) and Tom Savini are there less than 15
seconds, so don’t blink.
For me,
the one major flaw in the film, other than the sheer stupidity of the whole thing
(for which I am grateful), is an extended scene with Ray trying to get money from
his brother-in-law. It has an ad-libbed feel that just does not work for that long
of an extended scene that doesn’t move the story along. It should have been sliced
up to a much smaller time, and perhaps added to a deleted scenes extra.
Speaking
of extras, this one is kinda skimpy at three trailers, but that’s okay. Who has
time for extras when writing and directing five films in one year, right? There
is part of me that truly wishes Balsamo would slow the fuck down and do perhaps
two a year, and really work on them, rather than just put down anything that goes
through his mind at the moment. That’s why something like Clerks became a hit. Here, there is too much inconsistency, no overdubs
to drown out the traffic noise, and more holes in the story than (put your analogy
here). But on the other hand, this is such a high level of guerilla filmmaking that
you can’t help but marvel at some of the stuff they pull off, such as a scene outside
a church where they never actually enter the church, which had me in stiches.
It is
interesting to see these three films over a short amount of time. There is definite
growth going on in skill (and especially non-digital effects), so I am hoping this
will only increase in time. And, for some reason, I look forward to more of James
Balsamo’s perhaps increasing competency, if not lunacy.
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