Archive for the '80’s movies' Category

Sep

Comments Off on Silent Night, Deadly Night


“Ho-ho… Uh-oh. Santa’s coming to town for a holiday chopping spree.”

As a young boy I remember the response to the “Silent Night, Deadly Night” ads displayed in my local grocery store’s video section. Parents quickly covered their kids’ eyes, complaints were made to the on-duty store manager, and little old ladies gave their pacemakers a Sweatin’ to the Oldies-like workout after seeing the movie poster, which showed Santa’s darker side.

Based on Paul Caimi’s popular college writing assignment entitled “He Sees You When You’re Sleeping”, this blood-covered gift of Yuletide terror was directed by filmmaker Charles E. Sellier, Jr., who is known for his religious documentaries, and also created the lovable mountain man on the lam, Grizzly Adams.

On his family’s way back home from a fun-filled evening at the looney bin, Billy suddenly comes down with a very bad case of Santaphobia, thanks to Gramps. While Billy is left to senior-sit his supposedly comatose grandfather, the crazy geezer briefly snaps out of freeze frame mode, and tells the young lad a Brothers Grimm-style tale about a vengeful Santa who collects bounties on the naughty. This warps Billy’s little mind faster than a Federation starship escaping a Klingon Bird of Prey. Soon, what seemed like the harmless ranting of a bitter and mentally unstable man, becomes terrifying reality when Dad (Jim), ever the good Samaritan, stops to help someone who appears to be the jolly ol’ elf himself. Now, wait a second. I know for a fact that Santa doesn’t drive his red car or anything with wheels while on duty. How do I know this? Well, it’s part of his Santa Employment Clause. So, where are his sleigh and reindeer? Also, this guy is able to fit his robust frame down small openings with ease, can deliver presents to children across the world in record time by using a sprinkle of X-mas magic, but we’re to believe he can’t get his car started? Even an elderly person with cataracts in a dust storm at night could see that this guy isn’t the real McCoy. I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this. And by the time Dad gets a clue from the Clue Fairy, he finds himself on the wrong end of a loaded gun held by a crazed maniac, and by then it’s already too late for him and Mom. Well, at least he’ll be spared from opening another gaudy necktie, and she won’t have to look at another crappy, handmade dried macaroni X-mas wreath.

A valuable life lesson has been learned here: If you have an overwhelming desire to be a “do- gooder” around the holidays, make sure you’re in a public place with lots of people. For example, try volunteering at a soup kitchen, collect Toys for Tots, or participate in a food drive. But whatever you do, don’t stop for any strangers wearing Santa gear at night on X-mas Eve, especially on dark, abandoned sections of highway, because they are most likely killer nutjobs who are a few ornaments short of a fully decorated X-mas tree. And if it turns out you snubbed the real Santa, no big deal. The worst thing that’ll happen is you’ll probably be put on his naughty list for a year, and find a few lumps of coal in your stocking come X-mas morning, but at least you won’t be sporting a body bag.

Just when you think young Billy hasn’t been traumatized enough after he witnessed Anti-Claus brutally murder both of his parents, things go from bad to worse when he lands in a Catholic orphanage run by Mother Inferior, whose disciplinary methods are approved by the Medieval Punishment Association of America (the MPAA for short). When she isn’t punishing unique artistic expression like a heart-warming depiction of holiday carnage, or tying little boys to bed posts S&M style, she keeps would-be fornicators and young Billy in line with her trusty sidekick, a leather belt I like to call the “Holy Enforcer.”

After surviving his cruel sentence at the orphanage, a physically and emotionally scarred, but otherwise happy-go-lucky adult Billy leaves to pursue a lifelong dream of working in the wonderfully rewarding world of retail. In no time he scores a sweet position at the local hot spot, Ira’s Toys, which also doubles as a storage facility for leftover seasonal stock. The place is so run-down that I wouldn’t feel safe keeping empty boxes there. Even the roaches have picket signs. But, hey, everybody has to get their start somewhere. Gandhi didn’t just wake up one morning with millions of followers. Eager to please his new boss, Billy immediately mastered the fine art of stocking boxes, became a pro at punching a timecard, and showed off some mad skills with a box cutter. His future at Ira’s Toys looked as bright as Rudolf’s red nose, aside from that close call involving a smiling Santa decoration, which almost caused his psyche to unravel like a cat playing with a ball of yarn. Everything after that was really going well for the star employee, until he got promoted to store Santa. To be honest, the only reason why he got the promotion is because Mr. Simms (the dork who owns the store) had a last-minute “no show”, and needed to find a quick replacement. Later that night at the store’s X-mas party, everybody was enjoying themselves until, without warning, the holiday cheer quickly turned into holiday fear, as Billy became the Yuletide Avenger and declared open season on the “naughty.”

Most of the holiday-themed murders look very ordinary when viewed with the same eyes that saw the shower scene from “Psycho” or the prom massacre in “Carrie”, though there are still some screen exits worth mentioning. An example is the humorous death of what has to be the wimpiest door in cinematic history, which was waving a white flag after getting hit with Maniac Santa’s first ax blow. The Big Bad Wolf with half a lung and advanced emphysema could blow this door clear off its hinges without any problem. Next we have veteran scream queen extraordinaire, Linnea Quigley, showing off her boobtacular trophies before succumbing to rack-on-rack violence. Another really cool kill involves a middle-aged loser who steals a toboggan and becomes “the headless hoodlum” during a late-night joyride down a hill. Lastly, we have Officer Barnes, who gets a mid-dissection via an ax to the gut, and then takes more tumbles than a load of wet clothes in a dryer down a staircase. Unfortunately, like the door, the victims in the film don’t put up much of a fight, either. They’re not paralyzed with fear, just bad writing and directing.

While “Silent Night, Deadly Night” may not be the best entry in the holiday horror sub-genre, it isn’t the worst one, either. That distinction (which is nothing to be proud of) goes to its sibling sequel, “Silent Night, Deadly Night Part 2.” So, start off the holiday season a little bit early this year by checking out this bah-humbug slasher with a glass of milk and cookies, and get in touch with your inner Scrooge.

Roadside Attractions

– Picturesque mountains of Utah
– Selection of heart-warming, but out of place X-mas songs
– Billy wearing an Obi Wan Kenobi robe
– Frosty the Headless Snowman
– Ira’s Toys named after producer Ira Barmak
– Various Halloween costumes
– Moon Goon
– Textbook left hook
– 80’s edition Mr. Potato Head
– Rapid fire flashbacks that may induce seizures
– Double-handed, competition style ax throw
– Babe kabob without the grill
– A killer ending

Rated 7.0 out of 10


Check out the trailer for Silent Night, Deadly Night

No comments Edit

Sep

posted by admin | September 2, 2008 | 80's movies, Horror movies, Review by Barry Goodall, Slasher, Slasher films

Comments Off on Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare

Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare
“Freddy’s worse fear? Missing an episode of “Desperate Housewives.” That’s why he upgraded his new glove with TIVO.”

You know you’re getting old when 9:00 PM rolls around and you’ve already started yawning. Your eyelids are getting mighty heavy while watching “Antiques Road Show”, and you’re pretty winded from trying to find your copy of Reader’s Digest in the couch cushions. That pretty much sums-up my late nights. How far am I away from a nice cup of chamomile tea and a warm seltzer bath with the sounds of Kenny G playing on my clock radio?  I sure miss those college nights when I could stay up all night watching horror movies and playing my Sega Dreamcast. I’d awake the next morning in my Lazyboy surrounded by Cheetos wrappers and empty Diet Coke cans, then bike it to class with no problems.  I’d just need a light nap during anatomy class to rejuvenate me for the rest of the afternoon. In a class hall filled with about 500-plus students, you’d find the back row was a inconspicuous place to curl up for a nice snooze. I think  half of the back row was still in their pajamas, anyway. Did you know there’re about a thousand bones in the human hand named after dead Latin saints? Neither did I, but I think that’s what I dreamed about as I faded out to the monotonous voice of our professor.  “Hey tell the guy down in front to pipe down, we’re trying to catch some sleep back here. Could ya dim those lights, too, while you’re at it? Thanks.”  Sure, I had the option to examine medical cadavers for some extra credit, but I was traumatized enough when my goldfish died, so seeing the pickled liver of pale Joe Average didn’t exactly appeal to me. The class was a well-needed rest even at $250 a credit hour; and yes, I know $250 per credit hour sounds cheap nowadays, but that was big bucks back then. We only had dial-up Internet, giant cell phones, our music was still on CDs, and we liked it that way.  I still think it was a wise choice taking the  passing grade with  in-class dreams of dead Latin saints riding around in go-karts on tracks made of pudding. Maybe I  should have skipped the BBQ pork-rinds the night before.

Freddy in OZSpeaking of weird snack-induced dreams, “Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare” is the conclusion to the popular Elm St. Franchise, or as I like to call it, “The Final Cash-in.” Our dream Host-with-the-Most returns to don his fedora and Christmas sweater for the final time. Nevermind the eventual “Wes Craven’s New Nightmare “ and “Freddy vs. Jason” films that were to follow. Freddy’s dead for sure…and this time, they mean it!

It’s been 10 years since Freddy’s last carnage. Springwood’s youth has been wiped out and property values are in the gutter, while most of the older residents have either left or gone crazy. Johnny, the last remaining teenager from Springwood, is having nightmares of air travel in coach and homicidal bus drivers, so he decides to head out of town on foot to avoid any mass transit problems. Johnny hits his head on a rock and gets a nasty case of amnesia and is dropped off at a nearby
town’s de-militarized youth shelter. There he meets up with Spencer, a stoner who has an uncanny resemblance to the “You’re getting a Dell, dude” dude; Tracy, a karate kickin’ PMS-in’ teenager with major Daddy issues; and Carlos, a partially deaf Ralph Machio lookalike with a gigantic
hearing aid from the 1970s. Watching Roseanne Barover all of them is Kim, their somewhat creepy youth counselor, whose main therapy involves taking them on weekend drives to towns inhabited by psychotic Roseanne Barrs and hyperactive Tom Arnolds. Perhaps the Springwood kids weren’t killed off–maybe they just left. Discovering the dreams of her past are intertwined with Johnny and the town, Maggie’s trip to Springfield is also her quest to discover the mysterious roots of her family tree,
and why she has flashbacks of watertowers and guys in ‘50s sweater vests.

freddy artThe town seems to have no way out, nor any Red Roof Inns, so they decide to crash at the always-open Elm St. house. While napping, Carlos meets his quick demise via a Q-tip impalement and a hearing test of torture with the sounds of scratching chalkboards. But at least Carlos’s earwax is no longer a problem. Spencer hallucinates on the couch and gets zapped into a videogame where Freddy is King Kuppa, and he’s a stoned Luigi who ends up having his chest stomped on like the ringer in an amateur wrestling match. Meanwhile, Johnny is yet again attempting sky diving lessons in his dream, but lands face-first on a
bed of nails from a faulty Freddy parachute. All this carnage is just part of Freddy’s bigger plan to move on to greener pastures outside the town of Springwood. After all “every town has an Elm Street.” Every town also has a Wal-Mart and Rite-Aid, so I’m not sure Freddy’s relocation would really bring that much more evil. Maggie and Tracy return to the youth shelter with fewer passengers, but they now have a local dream philosopher who has decided to take on Freddy on his own turf. By entering his own dreams and memories, they plan to bring him back into the real world via an extended bear-hug. Little did Freddy realize his greatest weakness was a nice, big hug… Oh, and a stick of dynamite slammed into his chest. KAAA-BOOOM! Freddy-bits everywhere.

Freddy’s dead…if the title didn’t already tell you so. Easily on par with “The Dream Master” in its zaniness. He is still a psychotic wise-cracker with lots of creative kills left in his bag of tricks. A fun little horror movie that offers up more goofiness than any real scares, but well worth checking out. Too bad they didn’t include the 3D glasses like they did with the original theatrical release, but you do get to see Johnny Depp get hit in the face with a frying pan. You’ll end up with an unhealthy fear of Q-tips, but at least you won’t fear pudding and go-karts like me.

Roadside Attractions

-death by airplane decompression
-hit-and-run transit authorities
-gratuitous map folding
-extreme ear cleaning
-Inagodadavida Freddy
-Roseanne Barr-zilla
-Freddy power-glove
-skydiving safety lessons
-frying pan-fu
-Alice Cooper smackdowns
-knife throwing exhibitions
-Super Mario’s World of Death

rated 8.7 out of 10 for the movie

You can WATCH THE WHOLE DANG MOVIE RIGHT HERE!

Aug

Comments Off on Hard Rock Zombies


“The new Head and Shoulder’s shampoo commercial went a bit over the top. But look no dandruff!”

I’m sure many of you are aware of my continuing quest to find the Greatest/worst movie ever put on film. Like Indiana Jones searching for the Lost Ark, I’m seeking that which cannot be viewed. I’m convinced that looking directly at the movie may cause my face to melt off. A weapon such as this cannot fall into Nazi hands or those of a big movie studio, as a remake would surely bring about the end of the world. I’ve only just discovered that I’m digging in the right spot when I unearthed little treasures like “Gymkata”, “Starcrash”, and recently “Troll 2.” “Troll 2” set the bar pretty low, and I thought no other filmmaker would dare match its level of awfulness. It’s like a late 70’s bloated Elvis of bad movies: tacky and greasy, yet still highly entertaining. Well, Elvis, put down that side of ham because here come the Beatles…in the form of a little piece of cinema excrement called “Hard Rock Zombies”, the most vile, horrible excuse for a film to be burned into my retinas. It’s just the sort of movie you want to take a shower after watching from the greasy stain it leaves on your soul. It’s the devil’s armpit of filmmaking for which no wipe-on deodorant could ever mask its vile odor, and yet it’s one of the most entertaining bad films I’ve ever seen.

The film revolves around an un-named rock band, which is preparing for stardom. They have a plan and a van, and that’s all any hard rockin’ musicians with big hair ever really need. After a hard rockin’ night at their big concert, to which maybe a total of 10 people showed, including the trashy groupies, they head to the small, hick town of Grand Guignol. They plan to have another fan-lite concert, despite the warnings of a bushy-eyebrowed under-age girl who has a crush on the lead singer. Along the way they encounter a somewhat limber and very trashy hitchhiker, who just recently offed some guys in a Firebird (deservingly so, just for being “those guys in a Firebird”). She convinces the band into staying at her family mansion near the edge of town instead of a hotel, making the killing that much more convenient. Sort of like Chili’s Car-side to go…of death.

The inhabitants consist of mutant dwarfs, a snuff photographer in a leisure suit, a crazy grandfather who is actually Hitler in disguise, and a werewolf grandma in a wheelchair. By today’s standards, a pretty normal suburban family. The townsfolk aren’t as upset with the Manson family living down the street as they are with having a big hair band in their quiet town, especially one that rides skateboards and do the rope mime act. These are acts punishable by  up to a whole day in a makeshift barn jail, according to town law. After making “bale”– which was probably paid in bottle returns–the rockers are killed-off one-by-one and buried in shallow graves in the backyard of the mansion. Cassie, the bushy-eyebrowed jailbait mourns their loss and plays a recording of one of their songs next to their graves. The side-effect is its power to bring them back from the dead. I’ve known songs by Wham that could slowly and painfully kill people, but not resurrect them.

The zombified band, now looking like the members of Kiss, goes on a revenge spree at the mansion, killing all the residents in various horrific ways and still finding time to put on a concert later that night. The victims then return from the dead as blood-thirsty zombies and proceed to attack the nearby townsfolk. It’s the standard Amway pyramid scheme of zombification. Some of the survivors in town decide the best defense is to hide behind giant cut-outs of famous people like Marilyn Monroe and Elvis, while sneaking through the zombie-infested streets. Not surprisingly, the Union picket line fails and they’re eaten alive. Great plan, people. The back-up plan is much better, which is to offer up Cassie as a virgin sacrifice to the undead on a nearby mountain. Ron, the one surviving member of the band, convinces his zombified friends to help rescue Cassie, and lures them into a Nazi-approved gas chamber via some of their hard-rocking Gregorian hits. Portable amps and long extension cords must be a-plenty in this town.

Definitely a must-see for you bad B-movie fans out there. The only film to include both Hitler and a werewolf grandma in a wheelchair. Now that’s something you won’t see on the History Channel.

Keep an eye out for...

– homocidal swimming lessons
– grandma werewolves in wheelchairs
– Nazi weed-wacking
– Amish barn prisons
– Resurrected flies and spiders 
– Zombie music auditions 
– Das Fuhrer of the undead
– Self eating mutant Nazi dwarfs
– Extreme eyebrows
– Record smashin’
– Multiple neck chompings

“Raise the dead for what?” “Probably to mop your floors and paint your house.”

Thanks to badmovies.org for some of the photos check out their great review as well. 

rated 9.4 out of 10 for the movie


Check out the trailer for Hard Rock Zombies

Aug

posted by admin | August 1, 2008 | 80's movies, Cult Film, Musical, Review by Barry Goodall

Comments Off on Xanadu

Xanadu
“The Russian Chernobyl Dance Class gets their groove on.”

When I was a pre-teen, one of my regular weekend hangouts was the local skating rink.  Donning a pair of smelly, rented roller skates, I’d awkwardly traverse the infinite circle of wood floor paneling, while songs from the likes of Pat Benatar and the Thompson Twins blared in my ears.  “Hit me with your best shot” seemed appropriate as I’d collide with concrete support beams or other skaters.  I was pretty good at gaining speed on the straightaways, but would easily lose control on the turns, scraping the outside wall like Cole Trickle in “Days of Thunder.”  But what else are ya gonna do when they start playing REO Speedwagon’s “Keep On Rollin’”?  That’s right–you gotta keep on rollin’!

I’d take occasional breaks from the circle death-race in the snack bar areas, but it would take quite a bit of skill to transition from the wood flooring to the green shag carpet without it resulting in a trip to the ER.  It’s a skill you don’t often hear talked about in roller derbies. After a brief snack of caffeine and sugar it was back to the perpetual left turn of roller rink skating, until the DJ announced the dreaded “couples song.”  The young guys, who at the time still believed in cooties and whose voices hadn’t yet changed, scattered to the safety of the sidelines, making room for teenage couples wearing glo-sticks, rolling around hand in hand.  What a strange concept: going to some place to roll around in circles to cheesy 80’s tunes.  This might be a good idea to make other mundane things much more enjoyable, such as waiting in a bank line, or getting your license renewed at the Secretary of State.  If only you could just roll around in a roped-off area while listening to the rockin’ sounds of Kenny Loggins, then time would go buy so much more quickly.

I use Erbal Essence on my hair...it's a totally organic experienceIn the cult classic “Xanadu”, Olivia Newton-John has to put her roller skating skills to the test.  She plays a magical muse named Kira, who is unleashed from a bad 80’s mural painting, along with her muse sisters, by a starving artist named Sonny Malone. Sonny is played by Michael “Call me Swan” Beck of “The Warriors” fame, whose dreams of success go beyond re-painting bad album covers as promotional posters (larger scale printing technology apparently was still in the dark ages during the 80’s.).  Sonny gets a little sugar from Kira on a boardwalk in Venice Beach, and then she turns into a yellow beam of disco light and mysteriously disappears.  That frightful scene of dark magic doesn’t seem to phase him one bit though, as he decides to try to find her on astolen moped.  Who doesn’t love a girl that can re-materialize on a whim, anyway?  Soon she starts showing up in his album paintings, on old TV shows, in the dictionary, and teleports into dark corners.  She’s sort of a Jason Vorhees with leg warmers stalking Sonny.  She then lures him to an art-deco wrestling arena, where she casts an “eye of Newton” love spell on him, and convinces him to give up his crappy day job and start a dance club  with piles of money from Danny, played by the legendary Gene Kelly.

My theory is that Olivia isn’t even a mystical muse as she claims, but she’s actually just a shrewd real estate woman looking for some good investment opportunities.  The glowing is easily explained by a diet high in phosphorus.  Olivia and Sonny express their love by turning into animated fish and vest-wearing birds that dance to songs by ELO.  No, you’re not hallucinating.  I prefer to give a nice box of chocolates and flowers than to transmogrify.  She then enlists the help of Danny, whose mind is permanently stuck in the 1940’s as he hallucinates, talks to his vintage record player, and makes faces at himself in the mirror.  Poor guy, the dementia was already setting in.

Danny and Sonny argue over who dresses more silly See the conspiracy plot unfold as Sonny and Danny turn the run-down arena into a shimmering temple of 80’s decadence called “Xanadu”, where people of every race and creed will be able to roller skate, dance, and perform tight-rope walking.  With mission accomplished, Kira returns to her Purgatory world of endless voids and neon racing stripes, but Sonny’s love for her won’t keep them apart, so he goes to her world to argue with Zeus for her immediate release.  Because if anyone can convince Zeus, it’s a guy in a Hawaiian shirt wearing roller skates!  Xanadu’s opening night is a hit, filled with circus rejects, mimes, 80’s punk rockers, beatniks, ravers, shavers, mash-potaters, and people in pink neon and metallic clothes.  It’s like a Star Trek convention, only with fewer virgins.  Will Sonny and Kira’s love keep them together for a night of Xanadu, or will the Greek gods put a kibosh on their disco plans?

Honestly, by every account I should have absolutely hated this movie/musical.  It’s horrible acting, it’s plot-less, it’s disco, and the cheese definitely goes on thick.  Yet I’ve watched it 3 times already, and my kids love it, as well.  There really is something unique and endearing about this bizarre little film, and the soundtrack by ELO makes this movie shine (or glow in this case).  The film has also been made into a hit Broadway play, even though the original actors claim this film ended their acting careers.  So check out this cult classic, but don’t forget your glo-sticks.

Keep an eye out for...

– ELO-rama
– Roller-Derby dancing
– The high-pro glow dancers
– Gratuitous interior mansion decoration
– Paranormal big band stand apparitions
– Long bikes rides on short piers
– Dancing fish with leg warmers
– Near train collisions
– Skater-fu
– Disco themed Purgatory
– Western theme roller-rink hallucinations
– Illegal use of Gene Kelly in a pimp suit—5 yard penalty.

“Xanadu, it’s like sniffing glue. It’s like dropping acid, too. It’s up to you, Xanadu!” everyone sing!!!

rated 9.6 out of 10 for the movie


YES YOU CAN WATCH THE ENTIRE MOVIE RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!!!! CAN YOU HANDLE THAT??

Jul

posted by admin | July 26, 2008 | 80's movies, Comedy, Cult Film, Cult movies, Review by Barry Goodall

Comments Off on Elvira, Mistress of the Dark

Elvira
“I don’t need a seat belt. I have my own built in air bags.”

Before there was the king of late night b-movies, Joe Bob Briggs, there was the hostess with the mostess, the queen of scream, the mistress of the dark, Elvira. Her sarcastic wit and b-movie knowledge was only overshadowed by her huge kuzungas (not sure about the spelling on this one!). Being the Joe Bob fanboy that I am, I still must admit that Elvira is much easier on the eyes than a Texan good ol’ boy in a bolo tie, so I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Elvira had her own self-titled comedy back in the late 80’s. She certainly had the best double features in film history, so it only made sense to bring them to the silver screen in “Elvira, Mistress of the Dark.”

Cassandra Peterson plays the Mistress of the Dark, and if you passed Cassandra on the street, you’d never know it was Elvira’s alter-ego, as they’ve caked on so much Goth makeup it wouldn’t surprise me if Marilyn Manson was actually an impish database programmer from Milwaukee. Elvira is fired from her TV show one day when her Texan good ol’ boy boss tries to “manage her assets.” Elvira’s response is to clock him one. Soon after she learns that a long-lost aunt has died and left her an inheritance. Elvira sees dollar signs and hopes she can use the inheritance and make a new start in Vegas as a sleazy showgirl. Not exactly movin’ on up but every girl has got a dream. She heads across the country in her black “vampmobile” to Massachusetts–apparently where all the rich aunts go to die–but is considered a freak by most of the local townsfolk… Well, except every man and teenage boy within the city limits (even the ones flying over in planes are gawking).

The inheritance turns out to be an old run-down mansion that the Munsters would have proudly called their summer vacation home, so Elvira enlists the help of  some peeping-tom teens to help fix it up Bob Villa-style (only with more cleavage), and hopes to sell it to some poor schmuk  with poor eyesight. Elvira’s surviving uncle, Vincent, turns out to be a rookie warlock whose intent is to steal an ancient recipe book that’s been hidden there, so he can rule the world (or in his case, become even more British…either way it’s concentrated evil). How does a recipe book gives you evil powers, anyway?  Can a properly seasoned meatloaf control the fate of humanity? That might explain Betty Crocker’s rise to power.

To pass the time waiting for a buyer, Elvira puts on a b-movie/flash dance show at the local theater that ends with her getting tarred and feathered. She also laces a casserole for the town picnic with an aphrodisiac potion, and makes a dinner that nearly eats her new boyfriend, Flint McThickneck. He’s a big, burly fellow in plaid, straight from the Brawny paper towel ads, and has about the same amount of acting ability. But he does seem able to stumble through his lines well enough while staring at Elvira’s chest, so I give him points for that skill.

The townsfolk decide they’ve had enough of Elvira’s shenanigans at that Point, so they tie her to a stake in the Town Square for a good old community witch roasting–minus the potato salad. Using her super power decoder ring given to her as a baby, Elvira narrowly escapes under the cover of rain to do battle with the evil warlock, Vincent, and to retrieve the recipe book and make some delicious oatmeal cookies…of EVIL!!!!!! EVIL!!!!! Will Elvira’s huge knockers save humanity? Will her French poodle ever live-down the humiliation of having a haircut like Billy Idol? Will the British ever stop sounding pompous? Find out for yourself in “Elvira, Mistress of the Dark.” Retroman says check it out, but watch out for spinning tassels, and always wear eye protection.

Keep an eye out for...

– Exploding gas stations
– Baby Avon callings
– Punk rockin’ poodles and mice, oh my
– Exxon sponsored flash dancing
– Demon spiced stew
– Cooking-obsessed warlocks
– Moral Club picnic orgies
– Casserole Viagra
– Community witch roasts
– Rambo-vira (she’s bringing out the big guns)

“Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow, Elvira” – Alabama

rated 8.3 out of 10 for the movie

 


Check out the trailer for Elvira, Mistress of the Dark

About the Highway

Lost Highway is your satirical detour down the twisted back roads of b-movies and cult films reviews. learn more >>