Review: Zombie Babies

Text © Richard Gary/Indie Horror Films, 2012

Images from the Internet

Zombie Babies

Directed and screenplay by Eamon Hardiman              

Independent Entertainment           

112 minutes, 2011 / 2012  

Zombiebabiesfilm.com

AlternativeCinema.com

MVDvisual.com

Okay, with a name like Zombie Babies, y’just know this is not only going to be a comedy, but one of a broad nature. And yes, there is no subtly here.

I’m not quite sure when the story is supposed to take place, but I’m guessing around the time Roe vs. Wade had just passed in 1973. This sets up the premise where redneck “discount late-term abortionist” ($10 per) Dr. Burt Fleming and his less-than-able-and-not-too-bright assistant Teddy decide to fight against legit docs performing the deed, and decide to have a “Abort-a-Thon” and use the old Jewish vaudeville joke punchline, “Volume!” They send out invites to couples to visit their decrepit building, once a hotel and casino, to have their wombs vacated in a party atmosphere.

Four dysfunctional couples accept the offer. Most of the actors who play the roles have an amazing amount of credit behind them (and upcoming), most in the sexploitation horror genre (the kind of stuff in which the underrated Misty Mundae would appear; if you know who I mean, you know the genre I refer). Needless to say, though I will anyway, there are lots and lots of tats on both genders, and a number of body piercings present. In no particular order the couples are:

There is hooker supreme Capri (Desiree Saetia) and her boyfriend, pimp, and Thurston Howell III wannabe - right down to the cap and accent - Reggie (Ford Austin, who has had quite the career, having been in every genre from Happy Days [1978] and a semi-regular in Night Court [1985], to the likes of Showgirls 2: Penny’s From Heaven [2011] and Aliens vs. A-Holes [2012]), who perhaps is named after Reggie Mantle from the Archie comics. Austin doesn’t seem to take this too – er – seriously, in that he seems like he doesn’t want to be there, and is less memorable for it. Saetia, who also chews the scenery in her role, comes off a bit better, having a nice tour-de-force performance about half-way through the film.

Another is the weighty and sweating Lewis (Shawn Phillips), who somehow managed to knock up knock-out redhead Veronica (Ruby Larocca). Of course, she treats him like a doormat, and he is desperate enough to accept that role. Phillips plays the role with just amount of whine to make him both pitiable and annoying, definite a hard and fine-line to project without delving into one way or another. He actually has a number of credits in the genre, such as Girls Gone Dead (2012) and Blood Orgy at Beaver Lake (2012). As for Larocca, well, she’s actually been in a number of films I’ve already reviewed, such as Bill Zebub’s Zombiechrist (2010), and some of the voices on the animated Where the Dead Go to Die (2012; HERE).  She was also in one of my favorite titled films that I’ve seen, The Lord of the G-String:The Femaleship of the String (2003). She is also frequently in films with Mundae. It’s not surprising her credit list is incredibly long, as she seems fearless, as well as tattooed. As with much of the cast, she also has a history of writing, producing, and directing within the genre. This may be a silly film with bizarre characters, but these are some smart-as-whips actors.

The third grouping is manipulative baseball groupie Jami Lynn (Missy Dawn) and professional athlete Jackson (Dean Stark). Perhaps by coincidence, both these paired actors have the least amount of credits to their name: Stark has this as his only listing, and Missy’s menu is three films, all by this director. Stark, despite being a bit diminutive for a pro baseball player, nails the character’s vain and aggressive behavior, even if it’s a bit stereotypical jock (and I have found many jocks in my life have this same attitude, so this is not a criticism). The wonderfully moniker’s Missy is way taller than him, and gives the right edge to someone who expected more than the Jackson character can give. However, she is also the most willing to hit the sack than of the others.

The last, and most central of the ensemble, is loser tee-shirt entrepreneur Kevin (Trent McKelvin, a pseudonym for the director, Eamon Hardiman), and the nagging (don’t really blame her; she just wants someone reliable) yet adorable Leah (Kaylee Williams). Of course Kevin is a bit of a hero while still being a zero – directors can give themselves that role – while Kaylee comes across as the most naturally accomplished and natural actor of the troupe.

And, despite the low budget and genre, this cast is actually quite strong, if goofy as all get out. Even when the occasional scenery chewing occurs, especially by the good doctor (I’ll get to that in a minute), it’s so much freakin’ fun that you just don’t care.

The – er – good Dr. Burt is played waaaaaay over the top with much glee by Brian Gunnoe, who, like most of the cast, has appeared in previous Hardiman films (including the Porkchop slasher franchise). Gunnoe portrays him with southern hillbilly aplomb, dressed in a white tee covered by a red… well, it’s either a robe or smoking jacket, I’m not sure. Though he plays a mean blues acoustic guitar, he’s not necessarily someone you would want to trust with as delicate an operation as this one, especially since he performs the procedure using the cheap type of white hangers dry cleaners give out, not even the more solid, copper-colored ones.

Meanwhile, Roy Cobb plays Teddy rightfully understatedly. Again, it would be easy to make him a complete and annoying moron, but he comes across as more dazed than deranged. That makes the character more dangerous because he’s misleading. Teddy also wears a fez, for some reason, and a white, sleeveless tee-shirt with nothing over it, with his belly hanging out under the shirt.

Oh, and did I mention that Dr. Burt was well over 100 years old (not looking a day over 40), thanks to some mystery moonshiney type of concoction that he mixes in the basement, next to the bloody pile of excavated fetuses? That’s where the story goes… hell, it’s already so joyfully off-the-wall that by the time the formula starts bringing the fetuses to murderous life, you’ve already said goodbye to any sense of levels of credibility. And rightfully so, because, well, I mean, hell, you’re watching a film called Zombie Babies.

When the fetuses become zombified, they’re not necessarily flesh eaters in the (now) classic zombie sense as much as revengeful mutilators out to kill their parents (and others) in revenge. How the parents recognize the fetuses as their own, and vice-versa, of course, is a head scratcher in itself.

The revitalized babies are way too big to be merely fetuses, even late term, and they sometimes look a bit like some of the main characters of Full Moon Studio’s Puppetmaster (1989). Two different types of puppets are obviously used, one with the hand up the back and sticks to move the arms (like most Muppets), and other times marionettes. In true DIY, indie, low budget mode, there are some joyfully sloppy moments, where the strings are digitally edited out, but the scene is also zapped, so you see some white lines where the strings were before. And in one case, you can easily see the shadow of the hands holding the sticks, while the sticks themselves were clumsily taken out. And don’t get me started on the green-screen debacle of when the couples arrive on the grounds of the abortion casino. While in a big budget film this would be terrible, in this film it’s all part of the joyous fun and woo-hoo lets-make-a-movie mode. If this was trying to be a serious film, even indie, I would be annoyed by it. But this is the kind of film you have your friends over for, to watch and yell at the screen, so it becomes part of the fun.

By far the funniest part of the film is actually a semi-serious conversation on white-on-black violence. Part of what makes it a hoot is the out-of-context-ness with the rest of the dialog, which includes the very quotable “We gonna kill us some fuckin’ babies!”

The gore level is pretty high, including garroting and beheading via umbilical cord, a hysterical gauntlet of flying zombie babies/fetuses, and of course, what would this film be without the classic baby in a blender gag?

I can see both sides of the abortion debate using this film, though probably not up there on their attention plane, as proving their point (as was done with Juno). The anti-abortionists can point out that, “See, them baybehs is ahlave. ‘N look how disgustin’ them abortionists aw, y’all! (sorry, I have to do it in a Southern accent. If I may digress, as I am wont, comedian Steve Landesberg [RIP 2010] – aka “Dietrich” on Barney Miller – once said that Southerners aren’t necessarily more racist than those in the North, it just sounds so much better to say, “hayng hym”).

As for the pro-choice, well, in a similar vein, the use of coathangers and the disgusting unlicensed abortionists also can be used as symbols of why the procedure needs to be legal (the side on which I am strongly learning, FYI).

With its high level of amateurishness (if that’s even a word… well Microsoft Word recognizes it so it must be), zany levels of gore and ridiculous plot that seems to be written during a bender, shit, I had a lot of fun from beginning to end. This just flies by between the gore effects, the gross-outs (don’t get me started on how Reggie kicks it), the ample amount of exposed and colored flesh and plot holes that are harder to put together than finding who committed the JonBeney Ramsey murder (sorry, again; I just recently rewatched ThanksKilling). What plot holes? Well, for one of thousands, the fact that just hours after having the abortion, nearly all the couples connubially combine with their significant other.

You can just tell the actors are having fun. Just that so many of them have appeared in a few other films by Hardiman shows that we are viewing a good time that extends beyond the set. Will this offend? Let me repeat slowly for ya: Z-o-m-b-i-e B-a-b-i-e-s. Get some of them buddies together and have fun talking back to the screen.

Review: Terror of Dracula

Text © Richard Gary/Indie Horror Films, 2012

Images from the Internet

                            

Terror of Dracula

Directed by Anthony DP Mann     

World Wide Multi-Media (WWMM)                      

100 minutes, 2012  

wwmm.info/

MVDvisual.com

In the DIY world, if someone won’t do it for you, take it into your own hands. Can’t get a gig? Get some bands, hire a hall and equipment, and put on your own showcase. Can’t get a record deal, even from the indies? Put it out yourself. Fixated on 19^th Century literature and want to make a film about Sherlock Holmes or Count Dracula? Get some likeminded friends together who need some exposure and, as they say in Canada, get ‘er done.

Oh, I may have forgotten to mention that Terror of Dracula is a Canadian film, based in the lovely (seriously) granite-capital of Kingston, Ontario, a “place I know right well” (to quote the song “Leaving of Liverpool”).

So, Anthony DP Mann, along with Bill Bossert, wrote a screenplay supposedly meant to be accurate to the original 1897 Bram Stoker novel, and then Mann added himself to the main role, and also directed the film, such as he had done with his previous two films, Sherlock Holmes and the Shadow Watchers and Canucla (aka Dracula in Canada). I have not seen these others yet, but would be willing.

As the moving picture show begins, we are presented with title cards, explaining that this release predates most the others, including the Hammer Films, and it has been restored. This is a nice touch, as this was obviously shot on digi, and just released this year. Not a complaint though; just the opposite, as it was appreciated.

With the help of the city’s local Theatre Five troupe (whom I had seen perform a few times in the late 1980s). Actually, I got excited when I saw that Dr. Seward, who runs the institution that houses Renfield, and is the father of the Count’s first on-land British victim, Lucy, is played by Dick Miller. However, it was not the Dick Miller. Oh, well, unlife goes on. Apparently, none of the other cast members have any film credits other than either this, or Mann’s previous Sherlock release.

Oh, there’s lots of other unintentionally amusing bits – and again, this is not meant as a dig, just the eye of a viewer of many indie films – such as the cell where Renfield is kept at the institution is obviously the same we Jonathan Harker’s bedroom at Castle D.

A reason I was hot to watch this film is because of its reputed loyalty to the book, one I’ve read a number of times. It really is nearly impossible, as the novel takes place in various forms of correspondence, after the fact (for example, a paraphrase may be something like, “Oh, what a horrible series of events occurred last evening, and here is why…”). Like all other retellings before this one (while Hammer was especially bad for loyalty to the original, they were usually great films), there is – and has to be – quite a bit of original input by Mann and Weil… I mean Bossert, including the unsurprising yet fun ending.

One disappointing aspects of this film is the slow pacing. In a stilted verbal manner or through chewing of scenery to express angst, the cast plays this like a stage drama, with overwrought tones and non-literal handwringing, in part due to way the cast reads the 19^th Century-ish dialog, a trap that most period pieces fall into. This is not helped by the extreme and claustrophobic close-ups that are the core of nearly every scene. It’s sort of like when you watch a filmed concert, and they focus on the strumming hand rather than both that and the one playing the chords. I kept wanting more visual information that just when eyebrows are lifted. I was almost expecting the actors to turn around too fast as hit their nose on the camera (yes, Mel Brooks did perfect that).

Another is how dreadfully serious they seem to be taking the production. Truly, a low budget and a newbie cast is much better serving the audience if there seems to be some sense of camaraderie with those on- and off-screen. Sure, the tale of Dracula and his ilk deals with evil beings out to suck the world dry in high drama fashion, but even in the original novel, one could argue that Renfield and his insistence on entomophagy was a comic thread on some level. The Hammer Films versions also had moments of dark humor. Mix together the dead (pun intended) seriousness and the stilted language and acting, you end up with a product that is self-important and pretentious, even if that is not what was meant as the outcome. I’m just sayin’…

Mann plays the titular character either with static intensity or overdrawn – er – intensity. The beard looks okay, but there is no explanation of why it turns from white in Transylvania to dark in Kingst… I mean England.

While I’m at it, there were a few parts in the book that are terrific, but were left out here, I’m sure due to financial constraints, so I’m not blaming, I’m just noticing. An example is the terror aboard the Demeter, the ship that brings ol’ Drac and his many boxes filled with native soil to the UK. In the book, it is a very palpable set piece, and it is even well done in the original Nosferatu (1922), though I do have to admit it is barely shown in the more famous Lugosi-led Dracula (1930).

The rest of the cast also meanders over stilted language and emotions, as I’ve indicated above, although Angela Scott fares well as Lucy, with minimal ham-foolery. It would have been easy to do the dying character as a Camille, with arms amok, but she stays true. However, the three women who play the “wives” of the Count are jaw-droopingly overdone performances. To be fair, this is actually a hard part to play, because there’s three of them vying for notice always in the same scene, and again, there’s an overwrought level to them; even in the book, as they cower from their “master” and bound after their prey (a baby), so perhaps I’m being too hard on them.

I respect what Mann is trying to do, but perhaps he is doing too much. He needs a cinematographer who knows how to back the hell up, a dialog coach (especially if he continues to film costume dramas), and an AD who will have the balls to tell him that he needs to either ramp a scene up, or clamp it down.

Note that this film has been getting a lot of really good notices, so I may be one of the few who had some difficulty with it. The only extras on the disc are two versions of the trailer, so if you watch the VoD version, you won’t miss much. Perhaps check it out for yourself. See it… for your mother’s sake.

Review: The Scar Crow

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2012

Images from the Internet

                            

The Scar Crow

Written and directed by Andy Thompson and Pete Benson                

Gaia Media / Dead on Arrival Digital / Jingai                 

83 minutes, 2009 / 2012    

Gaiamedia.co.uk

MVDvisual.com

Well this is a just-miss Hammer-esk film that is a bit of a mixture of early-1970s and mid-‘80s clichés. The story of three fetching witches (Prim, Proper, and Vanessa Tanner) enacting a bloody plan to escape a curse by their lecherous (and non-warlock?) dad and move on after 300 years could have been right out of the mind of those who wrote the Karnstein Trilogy (look it up HERE) rather than written by co-directors Andy Thompson and Pete Benson).

Let me start with the good stuff, coz that’s the kinda guy/fan I am. The film looks beautiful, is shot well, and edited strongly (if sometimes confusing of the action, especially in dim-lit scenes). People fading in and out are certainly nice touches and the sense of atmosphere works incredibly well; also soundly done is a scene where the audience can see the post-carnage effects in a room, but some of the characters who are enchanted cannot. The British countryside and the farm have just the right feeling of isolation, creepiness and loneliness to show the emotions of the sisters, without needing dialog to explain, though the words and actions are there.

The shimming light of fire rather than electricity, for example, is used without much loss to the image (i.e., too dark to see), and the color saturation is nicely tuned (fire tends to make things too yellow or red).

As the viewer is taken back and forth between the origin story centuries ago that weaves through modern times, it is never confusing, and they tie together in a solid knot that is the center of the story.

Ah, yes, the story. Actually, it is a really decent tale that is poorly told (as you can see, I’m starting on the problem parts now). While the acting is mostly either over- or underdone, which I will get to shortly, it is the co-screenwriting by the directors where is the most troubling.

But first, let us catch up a bit on the story. You got the three enticing witch sisters who cannot leave the farm until the curse is lifted (they are both bodily solid and spatially fluid, depending on the circumstance, which is actually a nice touch), and then there are the four macho insurance salesmen (is that an oxymoron, or are they just trying to mock a cliché?) copping out on a mean-spirited office team-building weekend (I would quit the job before going through this ridiculous and physically rigorous nonsense; most office workers could not do what is expected in the film, and beside, many insurance sellers these days are women, and there is nary a true representation in the group. But, as usual, I digress…). Running out on the exercises (rightfully), they come across the rural farm with the witches, to become fodder, as expected.

Man, I hated these four guys. They are every macho jock moron bar bully you ever met. We are also never given a chance to really feel pity for them, because, with one exception, there is no background story given about them, and absolutely no character development. All they do is drink (excessively), talk about how they’re going to score with the three women (disproportionately), and goad and fight with each other, calling their supposed good buddies “twats” over and over. The dislike I felt for them, including the supposedly sympathetic one who is more than willing to cheat on his girlfriend, was palpable. There were a couple of times there where I just said to the screen, “Oh, c’mon, kill the asshole already.”

There is also no shock value in here. When one of the four twats (as I now will call them) stops for a potty break in a field, there’s no doubt as to what is going to happen. Even the ending is no surprise, if you’ve seen any horror film in the last 30 years.

 But the biggest annoyance for me was the questions that went through my mind about the plot holes. For example (and I’ll only give two here), if the witches are planning to use these twats for their great escape, why would they let them go to the town pub and mix with the locals, including the cliché wise-but-not-taken-seriously-by-anyone older guy (bar owner, here) who warns them to leave? And why, when they are seducing one of the twats, who is tied to the bedposts, would two of the sisters undress over him and start kissing each other?  I mean, gratuitous lesbian incest, really?

As for the cast, well, most of the acting, as I said, was either too subdued or too scenery chewing. For example, the witches are supposed to be 300 years old and isolated (are you trying to tell me that no one else has been on that farm in all that time for them to do what they need to escape?; obviously, there are more than two questions…), but they sure do seem to know a lot about Twenty-first Century mores for women from the Eighteenth Century, including stripping at the drop of a corset. When they speak, they sound stilted in their language, like a high schooler trying to do Shakespeare, rather than have it flow naturally. This is especially true, sadly, for the most film-credited actor in the cast, redheaded Marysia Kay (as the eldest, Vanessa). Her line reading is atrocious here (I haven’t seen her in anything else, so I don’t know if it’s endemic for her, or she just didn’t care about this mess). The other two sisters, busty and beautiful Gabrielle Douglas (middle child Proper) and the cute and more reticent Anna Tolputt (youngest Prim, short for Primrose), fare a bit better, but are caught in a maelstrom of clunky writing.

As for the twats, well, mostly they seem interchangeable. Their characters were so vacant and transparent, and their portrayers so bland, that half the time I couldn’t remember who was whom. In fact, I’m not even going to bother with them, other than the supposedly sympathetic anti-hero (?) Dez, played by Kevyn (really?) Connett (who looks remarkably like Canadian comedian Shaun Majumder). While his acting probably comes the closest to being best among the troupe (possibly why he is the lead male role), he is also hampered by a ham-fisted script.

Now the all important gore-factor: I read a review that claimed it was not up to par, but actually, I thought the blood-to-kill quotient was quite good, and with one exception of a very obvious prosthetic in a corn field, was pleased with the various body parts strewn about in various scenes. It is amusing to me that a similar gag employed here – a hand reaching through a body to lift out a heart – was also used almost identically in a more recent film, Zombie A-Hole, reviewed recently on this blog by moi. Oh, sidebar here: I actually was annoyed that the character who had his heart removed above, along with other internal organs, was still alive to view all this happening way beyond the point of even suspension of disbelief. Again, poor writing/direction.

                                          

I realize this is a first film by Benson and Thompson, so I’m going to cut them some slack. After all, as much as I loved them, the similar could be said about some of the early works of masters like Chronenberg, Waters, Hooper, and yes, even Romero. I’ll keep my fingers crossed, even though they’ve only worked on one film since this was filmed in 2009. Perhaps we can get them to direct something they have not written, or have edited by someone else, where their strengths will all come together, because if they can match their content with their visuals, they may become a force worth noting.

                                                                      

Bonus clip:

Review: Zombie A-Hole

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Blog, 2012

Images from the Internet

Zombie A-Hole

Written and directed by Dustin W. Mills

108 minutes, 2012  

Facebook.com/zombieahole

MVDvisual.com

Is this one of the best names of a film recently, or what? You really do know exactly what you’re getting, and this certainly won’t disappoint. After a summer of blockbuster films costing in the hundreds of millions of dollar to make, my interest was keenly kept with a central cast of three or four, and a $3,000 budget. Shot on a single Cannon 60D DSLR and made to look like film with wear marks and all, there’s no wimpy vampires, shirtless werewolves or annoyingly monotone women. No, we get a fashionable, mobster-natty zombie.

As is clearly and succinctly explained in the film, there are four kinds of zombie. The last one is the least used, which is an undead – or infected – person possessed by a demon. Hey, it’s posited in the opening scene, so I don’t believe I’m giving much away here; this cause for zombism has been mostly used in foreign films such as the Night of the Demons cycle (1988-1997), the original [*Rec] film franchise (2007-20012), though in the States there is the Evil Dead series (1981-1992). So there aren’t multitudes of flesh eaters crawling through the woods or cities ready to eat your brains. Rather, a serial killer who dies, comes back as said a-hole demon, and goes around killing identical twin women. The undead Pollux is himself a twin, the latter of whom, Castor, is searching for his brother to end the reign of terror.

And why twins? Two reasons (pun not intended). First, in this story, the demon can gain power to unlock the gates of you-know-where if he absorbs the energy from the twins he kills due to their higher psychic abilities to communicate with each other (yeah, I know, it’s kind of weak, but original). But the real reason is explained by Mills himself in the hilarious commentary: half the number of actors and twice the number of kills, as he gets to do in each one twice. Brilliant, in its own way.

One of the seemingly unwritten rules of this film is that the murdered twins are all women, each pair lives together, and one has to be murdered while the other is taking a bath or shower so the audience gets to see some nudity; Roger Corman would certainly be proud. As Dustin also points out, there are many different body shapes here, not just the standard thin with big boobs. Though a large amount of the female cast is apparently multiply tattooed.

Let’s get down to the gritty. First there’s Frank Fulchi (nice nod to the Italian goremeister), played with country-aplomb and religious fervor by Josh Eal. This religiousness is shown when he get angry when women cuss, but doesn’t seem to mind when men do it. Yep, that sounds about right. As we head into the election where the Tea Party rhetoric sounds just as hypocritical, the timing is ideal for this subtle (less than subtle if intended) dig against that mentality (and I use that word loosely), though I don’t believe that was necessarily where Mills was going. Played with a cowboy hat, square jaw, and lots of macho enthusiasm, Eal does a fine job of presenting a type that is familiar to horror films (e.g., Woody Harrelson in Zombieland [2009]). This is Eal’s only listed credit. His acting is kind of one note, but honestly, that is what the character dictates, so good on him for staying the course.

The female lead is Mercy (Jessica Daniels), who, during her first meeting with the title zombie, loses her twin sister Mary, as well as an eye, which we see yanked out very slowly (but not slo-mo), the optic nerve streeeeetching… Mercy doesn’t take crap from anyone, not even Pollux, and even though she loses the peeper (giving her that cool, Thriller: A Cruel Picture (1973) look, she is ready for battle the next time they meet. Daniels is believable because I know she can certainly kick my ass. Of course, to show she’s tough, the film has her smoking stogies like Clint “Empty Chair” Eastwood. The anger she feels is more palpable than the others, but her character is sort of secondary for most of the story, which is a shame. Daniels has one other credit, as the voice of Gwen in Dustin Mills’ first film, the also wonderfully titled The Puppet Monster Massacre (2011) [my review HERE].  

As Castor, Brandon Salkil plays him with a mixture of lantern-jaw nerd who is able to read the - I mean, an - ancient book of the Necromicon, and an unsure monster hunter who looks like he’s about to pee his pants some of the time; or at least burst into tears. Salkil has two other film credits, including the character Wilson in the aforementioned The Puppet Monster Massacre.

In a dual role (as I said, twins), Salkil also portrays the title monster like he stepped out of Sin City (2005), full of noir machismo and a good use of body language since his face is a mask and cannot move face muscles much. With the élan of a dancer, Pollux is the exact opposite of Castor, and Salkil does well to separate the two completely in body and spirit. While sometimes his performance feels the most forced, at other times, it seems the most natural.

Essentially, this is a road trip buddy film, with Frank and Castor driving in a car and getting to know one another. The story mostly jumps back and forth between them and Pollux doing is de-twinning. Note that there is plenty of action and gore.

                  

Speaking of blood and guts, lets get to the gristle and talk about (well, I will anyway; not expecting much of a spontaneous dialog, y'know) the SFX. Some of it looks pretty good, though you really can notice the digitization. For example, when someone’s head gets pushed on a spike, you can see the layers, especially if you’re like me and you slo-mo the action. But with an $8,000 budget, what do you expect, Titanic? Some of the effects, honestly, are laughable, and this is part of the enjoyment. For example, when zombie Pollux spews out some The Fly-type sputum to melt flesh, it’s obviously Silly-String. And pulled flesh is pieces of ropey, rubbery goo, apparently called nerdies in the business. The a-hole also has retractable intestines, apparently, that can grab like tentacles (in fact, the subject of Mills’ next film is tentacle related), but looks like ropes (i.e., too stiff and not membraney enough). Then again, there are some moments that are great, such as when the zombie reaches up through a bed and the hand goes through a (twin’s) body, holding up the heart. This looked superb. Similarly, with a very brief moment where a face is ripped in half off the skull. But don’t make me go into the whole Energy Beam Welder thingy.

Now, you may be asking yourself, “This is the director of The Puppet Monster Massacre, are there any puppets? Well, class, to answer that, let me state that by far, the silliest moment is when Pollux pees (red, so I’m assuming blood) in the woods, and a slew of skeletal creatures come out. In actuality, this are a Halloween skeleton you can buy to put on your lawn. Mills fixed it up with pop-out white eyes and a couple of other thingies, and then just replicated it digitally to make it into multitudes. It looks bad and fakey, though Mills rightfully states in the commentary, “You can’t pretend it’s Schindler’s List.”

That being said, the other puppet is some kind of chained wizened creature in a small box that turns on with a skeleton key (side-note: in an early scene, Frank drops the key, but has it moments later without bending down… I’m guessing there is a small part deleted there?), that is one of the more imaginative and interesting ideas in the film (and there are some good ones here). Named Selwyn, after the baby in the classic Dead Alive (1992), it is superbly voiced by Eugene Flynn.

There are only two extras on the disk, one being the trailer, and the other is a noteworthy commentary by director Dustin Mills and the title character actor, Brandon Salkil. Goofy at times, there is also a lot of information about both the production and the plot that makes it worthwhile.

What happens in the story? Well, suffice it to say the film proves Carol Clover’s seminal book, Men, Women and Chainsaws (1992) to be correct. Let’s leave it at that, other than there is supposedly a sequel down the road that I’m looking forward to watching.

Meanwhile, there is an interesting interview with director Dustin Mills on another site HERE. 

Review: Where the Dead Go to Die

Text © Richard Gary/Indie Horror Films, 2012
Images from the Internet

Where the Dead Go to Die
Written, directed and animated by Jimmy Screamerclauz
Unearthed Films
96 minutes, 2011
Unearthedfilms.com
MVDvisual.com

Let me state, right off the top, that this is a great title for a film.

As a culture, we are all becoming more aware of motion capture in films, thanks to the likes of that Tom Hanks Christmas polar crap, and even Lord of the G-Strings…oh, wait, that’s different film… Anyway, my point is, everyone has come to think of it as a timely and expensive project, suitable only for the “big guns” of major studios (or at least a production with a decent budget).

However, with the help of some friends and an Xbox 360 Motion Capture, using Cinema 4D and importing Poser, Screamerclauz filmed and then edited it on Adobe Premiere. He has successfully shown that it is indeed doable with this dark trio of inter-related tales, titled “Tainted Milk,” “Liquid Dreams,” and “The Masks That the Monsters Wear.” Each takes place in a small town, showing a group of friends’ lives at various stages from children to adulthood, but not necessarily in chronological order.

The axis of the story is an evil(?)/godly(?) dog with glowing red eyes that can talk in a whispery, stuttering voice (somewhat like the pooch in Davy and Goliath), named Labby (to remind you of Lassie, though it is not a collie breed). Then there is his “owner” Tommy (Timmy) and something possibly malevolent in the well (as in “Timmy fell in the well!”). Some of the other characters are Johnny and Sophia. They have to deal with Labby, questionable parents (one voiced by the Linnea Quigley), and strange black-clad cyclopeses called “shadow people.”

The film is quite stunning to see, with nudity, sex, blood and gore, and a swirl of tentacles and eyes that appear often. The storylines are quite confusing and, honestly, half the time I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I enjoyed the ride anyway. I strongly recommend watching the solo commentary by Screamerclauz afterwards. Now, I have to warn you, he is an annoying and whiny pain in the ass (“I didn’t know what I was doing,” “I don’t know what to say,” etc.), but he does help the story along somewhat to explain that this is that person from another story at a different time, for example. Note, though, that there is a lot more technical talk, for those into that, than story explanation. I almost wanted two tracks, one for the story and one for the technical, but Screamerclauz seemed to be having trouble with just the one, even ending it abruptly before the film ends.

Some of the interesting comments include him stating that he thought the film was funny rather than disturbing (actually, he says that more than once), and that “I just like wild things on the screen. I like flies, too.” Personally, I think he was stoned outta his mind when he recorded the track; and do I remember him actually lighting one up, or is that a dream?...

The music that flows nearly throughout is loud speedcore thrash, and most of the time it helps underscore the visuals, though occasionally I thought, okay, enough. Hey, I’m not expecting Peter, Paul and Mary, but it seems like every indie is using some speed metal in their films these days. It’s becoming unimaginative, unlike the rest of the visuals.

Despite all my whining, I think Screamerclauz has a lot to be proud of, since this really does look really great, despite the jerkiness of some of the movement. Truly, I think it would be terrific if he continued doing it, but I would also wish to add the caveat of wanting someone else work with him, to help edit his ideas more coherently.

While I don’t imbibe, myself, and also do not recommend or suggest it for others, I’m guessing this is a stoner’s dream (nightmare?).

Review: Zombie Undead

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Blog, 2012

Images from the Internet

                            

Zombie Undead

Written and directed by Rhys Davies

Hive Films

83 minutes, 2010     

Hivefilms.co.uk

Zombieundead.com

MVDvisual.com

May I start by saying that when I saw the title of this film, I thought that it is redundant.

 I would have the same comment about something called Undead Vampires. But then I started to think about it a bit…

Generally speaking, there are three major turning points in the modern zombie film: the first is the Night of the Living Dead (1968), where zombies went from Haitian victims to flesh-eating undead. Then there was 28 Days (2000), where the maddened were not really dead, but rather rabid-like, yet it is still considered in the zombie genre (perhaps we need a plague subgenre?). This also started the ongoing and occasionally heated “fast vs. slow zombie” debate. The last was the addition of a comedy / absurd element with Shaun of the Dead (2004).Sure there was some overlap (e.g., Return of the Living Dead [1985] had some comedy elements) and even some borrowing (e.g., it could be argued that 28 Days was more The Crazies [1973] than NotLD, both directed by George A. Romero), but basically they revolutionized how we looked at the creatures.

Of the three, it could be noted that the latter two were British, who have been leading in innovation in the zombie field (though I would arguably say that some American low-budgeters deserve some more focused attention, such as Aaah! Zombies!! [aka Wasting Away, 2007; my evaluation HERE] and the recent Zombie A-Hole [2012, HERE] ). Zombie Undead is also from the British Isles.

This film, directed by Rhys Davies and written by Kris Tearse, both first-timers, borrows liberally from predecessors, including others not mentioned above, such as Dawn of the Dead (1979; e.g., mostly it takes place in a single building, and there are many debowelings).

What sets it all off – and I won’t give away much, I promise – is a biological terrorist’s bomb in a hub train station. From there, of course, things deteriorate as people who were killed by the blast rise up, and slowly and inevitably, of course, chomp.

We meet the heroine, Sarah (Ruth King), who has brought her father into a hospital after he is injured and bloodied. She passes out at the stress at some point, and wakes up alone in a corridor of the hospital (shades of The Day of the Triffids [1962]). She is quickly rescued by the hulking Jay (played by writer Tearse), with machete in hand, and they are joined by the sympathetic-yet-cowardly cab driver who took Sarah and pop to hospital, Steve (Barry Thomas). From there, they work their way to the top of the building to search for relatives – and to have an excuse to hang around the single structure set – where they meet others who have survived (for now), passed on, and who have returned to join the search for – er – food.

Considering that none of the core actors in the film have any previous experience listed on the IMDB, they do a truly splendid job. Yes, there is the occasional wooden reading (I’m assuming that it is supposed to be them being in shock more than anything else), but each one holds their own both in solo pieces and in a group. I’m hoping if Davies continues, he will have the opportunity to use the cast again, as indie filmmakers tend to use a cadre of talent repeatedly. There is usually a large range of emotion that is needed when these kinds of films go serious, as does this one, so with a novice film crew, it’s ever more impressive, even on a repeated viewing (hey, I hadda show it to my zombie-lovin’ hombres).

As with most British core cities, the one used here, Leicester (a 100-mile drive north-northwest from London), looks like a series of rundown row-houses and brick buildings with some parks (mostly golf courses, according to the maps I’ve seen). Actually, a perfect setting if one wants to do the geographical / cultural analysis of what the zombies mean (you know, how critics talk about Dawn of the Dead being about consumerism, etc.), but I like to take these stories for what they are, rather than find the commies-in-the-pea-pods, if you get my drift.

While I commented before about how there are borrowed elements here and there, it should be strongly noted that there are some really fine touches, as well, such as a tragic case of mistaken identity, which is all I will divulge  here, because the film is worth checking out. Yes, there are the occasional holes, but it could easily have been far, far worse. Just know that while this is a compelling film, it is a relentlessly grim story with no respite from beginning to end. It may not always be action-packed (thought it often is), but it will still keep your attention righthere.

Lastly, there is the gore element. The effects are mostly prosthetic, from what I can tell (kudos!), such as said intestines and other assorted body parts, and the blood is among the best in viscosity I’ve seen in a while: not too thick, not too thin, not too light or dark. Really good, considering the sheer abundance of it. And, do I really need to go into the question of a body count considering the subject matter and the aforementioned tone? Didn’t think so.

There are no extras on this DVD, be it commentary, bloopers, deleted scenes or even a coming attraction for this film, never mind others on the brand. Zip. Zero. Zilch. But I won’t disappoint you. Here is the trailer:

                                               

Review: The Disco Exorcist

Text © Richard Gary/Indie Horror Films, 2012

Images from the Internet

           

The Disco Exorcist

Directed by Richard Griffin                

Wild Eye Films, 2011

80 minutes, USD $16.95        

wildeyereleasing.com

MVDvisual.com

It seems the whole retro exploitation movement came into full fruition with the Tarantino / Rodriguez double-billed Grindhouse (2007), with fake period pieces added, digital scratches to look old, and “missing scenes” taken out. Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the genre, out comes The Disco Exorcist.
 

Despite the obvious comparison to the previous film(s) mentioned, The Disco Exorcist is, well, amazingly enjoyable. Director Richard Griffin has a history of making horror films of various genres, occasionally with a retro feel. He has certainly hit the pin on the voodoo doll head with this one.

Taking place in 1979, at the height of the disco era and just as it was starting to thankfully wane (to be replaced by the equally noxious hip hop), there are three main characters around whom the plot revolves, each with less than subtle character names.
 

First, there is the title fellow, otherwise known as Rex Romanski (i.e., king of romance). He’s sort of like John Revolta / Tony Monero from Saturday Night Fever (1977), who dances and then subsequently beds all the women, and then moves on to the next one with no thought of hurt feelings. He leaves a string of women who sit at the dance club watching him move while bitterly (and humorously) make snide comments like a rejected Greek chorus. Donning a ‘70s style long-haired wig and full of baby blue eyes and dimples, Michael Reed plays him almost as an innocent, rather than the pig Rex actually acts. Without malice of thought, Romanski just lives his life, which just happens to involve disco, dipping and dumping. His sidekick, Manuel (Brandon Luis Aponte, taking a fun turn), is rarely from his side, even when he’s in a porn theater – er – touching himself, watching his favorite actress perform.

At the club, he meets the edgy, sometimes beautiful / sometimes scary Rita Marie (a derivative of the name Miriam – Moses’ sister – Marie means “Bitter”… yes, I just knew that off the top of my head; Rita, a derivative of Margarita; is a pearl… that one I looked up). We see from the first scene that there is something wrong with Rita, who has more power than she can use wisely, and rather takes her anger issues out by… well, you’ll have to see the cool period aesthetics. Ruth Sullivan, a consummate actor actually, does just the right amount of scenery chewing for this role, which calls for a lot of hysterics, yearning, burning, and literal finger-pointing.

Lastly, there is Rex’s idol and eventual lover, porn star Amoreena Jones (as in Amore). Beautiful with pouty lips, Sarah Nicklin is fearless in her role as the focus of Rita’s jealous vengeance. This is another part that could have been dismissed by an actor of less caliber, and cheapened by the action, but Nicklin actually comes out the best of the three as far as skills go – and that’s saying a lot considering the amount of talent is actually present despite the budget – not by doing her “Linda Blair” bit of being possessed, but by her comic timing and treating this as a she might, say, The Godfather (yeah, okay, that was a weird comparison, but hopefully I made my point). Oh, as a sidebar, in the real world, the leads Nicklin and Reed are married, so some of the positions they assume were “familiar,” as they state in the commentary.

All three of these actors are part of the New England theater scene (as are most of the secondary and ancillary cast), and Griffin, from the area himself, filmed much of this in Pawtucket, RI, as he does with most of his releases. As such, the three are part of his stable of on-screen (and quite some behind-the-scenes, as well) talent, having all appeared in a number of his flicks.

I must say, that as a retro film that was supposed to look like it was released at the end of the ‘70s, Griffin does take it a bit too far. For example, in that period, you never saw male genitalia, unless it was a rubber dildo. Even then, unless it was someone like Russ Meyer, it was highly unusual, and no theater (other than pornos) would have shown it, unless, of course, it was Meyers, an even rarer exception, and yet only in some major cities. Even with female nudity, it was T&A, but no genital hair for a long time. The one exception I can think of, though, is the actually boring The Harrad Experiment (1973), where we got to see Don Johnson’s – er – johnson.

Going in that direction for a moment, it is interesting to note that part of the this excursion into dat ol’ tyme exploitation horror, there is a set piece involving the filming of a porno film (stolen, in part, by the faaabulous scenester and collector – IMDB refers to his “paranormal artifacts, murderabilia, sideshow exhibits and downright weird stuff” –  Babette Bombshell, who also designed the hexilious voodoo doll). I bring this up because recently, I reviewed the re-release of the mostly expunged Gum (1976) [HERE], at the correlation between the two is remarkable, including cheezy sets and lack of acting (although this would become especially true when porn switched from film to video in the ‘80s).

Also, check out the commentary, consisting of director Griffin, actors Nicklin and Reed, and producer Ted Marr. Usually, when you have that many people doing the annotation, it gets muddled and people talk over each other, but here, not only do they respectfully let each other have their say, but what they say is relevant to the film. Plus they still keep it humorous, again indicating that it was an enjoyable shoot for them, which passes on to the viewer.

I gotta say that this was a hell of a hoot (pun intended) to watch, and I recommend it to those who are not offended by body parts, both attached and un-. And, in the meanwhile, I look forward to seeing the sequel, The Brother of the Disco Exorcist,  listed as turning its head in 2013.

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