Archive for the 'Horror movies' Category

Jan

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“His pants were the obvious source of his super-powers!”

I love vintage diners. You know those old style diners where you could sit up at the counter and dodge the grease splatterings from the kitchen. Wood grain paneling surround your bright orange plastic booth and you have to avoid the newest stain on the floor smartly camouflaged by the 70’s style floor tiles. Orders were yelled by a middle aged waitress with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth with catchy titles like “Bloodhounds in the Hay (hot dogs and sauerkraut)”, “Adam and Eve on a raft (2 poached eggs on toast)” or the less apitizing “Angels on horseback” which is actually oysters rolled in bacon on toast. Yummy…. serve that in a smoke filled room and you got yourself some fine dining ambiance.

Sure the food was greasy and the atmosphere was noisey but it was your grease pit not some impersonal mega-restaurant chain. Now you get places like Johnny Rockets with their $7 hamburgers and awkward interludes of employees singing and dancing. There’s also Bennigans which is just an Irish dining experience without the drunken brawls. You can also see a lot of TGIF’s (Terrifying Godless Incarnations of Food) and the ever popular Apple Bee’s. They all pop up next to a strip malls like weeds. Well it’s time to stomp them out and stand up for the small businessman. Your heart attack shouldn’t occur at a Apple Bee’s where the last sounds you’ll hear is some poor sap getting a birthday serenade by workers covered in flair. Nope, let me die on that brown tiled floor with a couple partially chewed fries on my shirt. They’ll just step over me on the way out the door. “Hey Charlie, yeah you got another stiff over here from your food ya lousy cook. Come clean up this mess he’s blockin da door.” ahh the sweet sounds of the Jersey accent would be the last thing I hear before sitting down at that great greasy spoon in the sky. 

Speaking of Diners with questionable health standards. Blood Diner stands as a testimate to everything you thought might be in a fast food joint but were afraid to ask. Brothers Mike and George Namtu are the owners of their booming vegetarian diner where their only special ingredient  isn’t tofu but chopped up tramps in tight spandex. To guide them in running their venture business is the disembodied brain and eyes of their Uncle Anwar whom they recently dugged up and put in a canning jar. He’s no Gordon Ramsey but he is a loud foul mouthed organ with a jewish accent so that’s close enough.

Anwar gets a bit Fahklumpted as he orders his nephews to kill whichever big haired 80’s tramp walks into the diner but also demands they use only the best body parts for a resurrection of Shee-tar. Shee-tar is either a poorly named 2 million year old pagan goddess or the modern jungle princess of gold body paint. The dimwitted brothers patchwork together their golden frankenhooker with the spare body parts only needing the obligatory virgin sacrifice to bring her to life and rule the world. But that kind of ceremony can only work if it’s done at a punk rave party with a zombie buffet and motown harmony band. Mike hypnotizes a shy cheerleader with his Jedi mind tricks and dollar store neck charm convincing her that she actually wants to see a Nazi wrestling match that his brother is in. The date takes a sour torn when George bites off the ankle off his Hitler opponent and they have to knock out Connie unconciousness with a mean right hook (Isn’t that how Britney and Kevin Federline first met.) Some cops in 70’s leisure suits and greesy hair suspect that the brothers might be involved with the recent rash of nude areobic massacres and the recent killing of a handless vantriliquist chef.

Lead by a Travoltian “Saturday Night Fever” parody who oozes grease through every pore,  the cops track down the brothers  at the local rave club. On the main stage is a propped up Shee-tar with some newly grown tummy teeth about to snack on Connie’s noggin while zombies party at the buffet table. The only thing that could save this movie is deep frying a batter dipped hooker and a kung-fu naked chick…and luckily it has both. Can it get any weirder? Probably but I think they ran out of film.

This gross horror-comedy is supposedly a low budget tribute to Herschell Gordon Lewis’ trashy splatter classic Blood Feast and with the crazed splat stick humor you can see the influence but I wouldn’t put it in the same class. Especially bad acting all around on this one but still enjoyable for it’s pure outrageous weirdness. Retroman Steve says check it out, but watch out for flying body parts. 

 



– Nude areobic workout massacre
– Pickled brains
– Belching overweight vegetarians
– Vantriliquist diner chefs
– Deep fried hookers noggins
– Finger food
– Multiple mamboo hit and runs
– Kung-fu nudists
– Hitler wrestling 
– Zombie mosh pits
– Broomstick decapitation
– Gratuitous use of the line “Georgie, stop fooling around!”

 rated 7.3 out of 10

Blood buffets…take all you want but eat alll you take. Sheetar commands it.

Check out this clip from Blood Diner. This is why I Love to Mamboo!

Jan

posted by admin | January 17, 2009 | 80's movies, Drama, Horror movies, Made for TV, Review by Barry Goodall

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Chris discovers Tom Cruise's scientology hyperbolic chamber, the only side effect is continual shrinkage

“His decision to fight crime as Chocolate Chip Cookie Man was not received well within the super hero community.”

I would have to say that hunting is my least favorite sport that I’ve experienced in my lifetime. Give me basketball or football or even the nerve wrenching tension of Canadian curling. Just as long as you don’t put me in camoflauge and drop me in the woods. I’m not quite sure why they even call hunting a sport. There’s no running involved, well unless a bear is chasing you up a tree. There’s no throwing things except maybe empty beer cans in the woods. In fact there’s no real physical activity at all. Mostly it’s just sitting on your hinder shivering in a tree blind with a rifle barrel freezing to your groin hoping for the unlikely chance of a deer crossing your path to your pile of apples. “Oh look a magic pile of food..what a lucky deer I am that someone left this here for….KAAAABLAAAAAAAAM!!!”

Lucky that you picked up that semi automatic at Kmart last week so if at any point a large semi-trailer gets between you in the deer well he’s still a goner. Though Dick Cheney would beg to differ, I don’t feel other hunters are competiting against me nor do I mistake rich lawyers faces as targets, well most of the time. Give the deer a gun too and now we’ve got a real competitive sport. I’ve sat in the tree stands, slept in the deer blinds, and caught headlice in rustic hunting cabins but never caught buck fever at least nothing a couple shots of  NyQuil wouldn’t fix. I know some people say “Well if we don’t kill the deer they’ll just destroy our crops!” If they were locusts and this was biblical times then it’s a maybe but you’ll see at most five deer darting across a big empty field once in a winter. That’s not really an infestation. But I respect the hunter. They’re truly committed to their craft. Anyone that can sit out in a deerblind in a middle of a field all day is a man of patience and perseverance. It builds character, just look at what it did for Ted Nugget.

Speaking of people standing out in the middle of a field with nothing to do. Night of the Scarecrow introduces us to a vengeful scarecrow that unleashes an unholy terror on a group of redneck vigilantes. Larry Drake plays Bubba, a mentally challenged middle aged man who is wrongly accused of killing a young child. They’re lead by one of the the most evil postman ever seen on TV since the dark days of Mr. McFeely. Charles Durning plays Otis P. Hazelrigg (not his maiden name) the town postman who convinces a group of his friends to track down Bubba now disguised as a scarecrow and  shoot him up like a pinata at a gansta party.

After a circus courtroom hearing that had all the lawful proceedings of a skit from He-Haw, the judge throws out the case claiming it was all in self defense. As if these upstanding members of society would ever harm a fly on purpose. I mean who’d ever believe a postman would go on a murderous killing spree? If Judge Judy was there she’d mop up the floor with them and their plaid shirts and bolo ties. Later than night a mighty wind blows through town bringing with it the vengful spirit of Bubba and the strong odor of fertilizer manure. Soon a possessed scarecrow starts showing up in empty fields near their homes to put the creeper jeepers on his murdering foes. It’s mostly an intimidation move but causes the guys to panic and start suspecting each other of breaking their secret.

What you gotta love  is throughout the film Otis never once changes his mailman uniform. I swear he must shower and slept in it. Impressive also is his ability to pack away the food like it’s a 99 cent buffet even after killing an innocent man. Buffet’s cower in his presence. Otis’s friends start showing up dead it what appears to be work related accidents. Falling into wood chippers, drownings in grain silos, typical farming mishaps. But Otis’s paranoia kicks into overdrive as his tiny pea brain theorizes that it’s Bubba’s grieving mother or the prosecuting attorney causing all the ruckus trying to get him to confess.

A stern warning from Otis accidentally gives Bubba’s mom a fatal heart attack and he then proceeds to off one of his buddies with a shovel to the back of the skull from fear he might tattle on him. This brings up the Ottis murder-meter total to 3, already beating out the scarecrow’s in just a few short days. That’s not to shabby for a middle aged government worker.

Later after a drab halloween party where he gets drunk on spiked apple cider, he ends up getting chased down in a corn field by a rusty John Deere and meets his much deserved and pointed ending. Serves him right for all that junk mail delivery. Oh and his stupid hat.

So go put the flag down on your mailbox, turn the lights down low and cuddle up with your favorite bag of hay. Retroman Steve says check it out and bring a pitchfork.



– Dorky postal jungle hats
– Scarecrow target practice
– Farmer mulchers
– Feed grain drowning
– Gratuitous pancake eating
– Fat guys running in fields
– Shovel to the head

Speaking of creepy scarecrows on TV, Scarecrow Spud on Bob the Builder is hands down the most frightening.

Dark Night of the Scarecrow Dark Night of the ScareCrow T-shirts available from Fright Rags

At Fright Rags you can get this high quality horror shirt you can’t find anywhere else. Fright Rags has the best selection of horror shirts based on your favorite cult classics, creature features, and slasher flicks! Check out the Dark Night of the Scarecrow T-shirts

Check out a scene from Dark Night of the Scarecrow

Jan

Comments Off on Night of the Creeps

Chris discovers Tom Cruise's scientology hyperbolic chamber, the only side effect is continual shrinkage

“Chris discovers Tom Cruise’s Scientology approved hyperbolic chamber. The only side effect is his continual shrinkage.”

I think college frat guys are getting an unfair stereotype in film. In most movies they’re portrayed as the dumb jock whose out to boink every co-ed they stumble across and that’s only if they can take enough time to put their beer can down. They initiate freshmen pledges by forcing  them to carry around stemmed cherries with their butt cheeks or having them steal the rival teams animal mascot and put in the dean’s new convertible. Their frat house are like a demilitarized zones littered with pizza boxes from last years graduating class and empty keg cans make up most of their furniture. The place is so gruesome sometimes you can count the ring of stains on the walls and figure out how old the building is. It’s not their fault and I think I know where the blame firmly lies…it’s the cheap beer. College frat guys are always broke and are forced to buy cheap beer which leads to binge drinking and eventually some guy who thinks he can fly off the roof if he wears a cape and an adult diaper (and I have the metal plate in my head to prove that.) I think the colleges should institute a fine imported beer requirement. They can only drink a few though because, well who can afford to drink any more. No more Pabst Blue Ribbon specials for those incoming pledges either, that’s just cruel. Freshly sobered, the dumb meat headed jock suddenly becomes a wine critic, an upstanding member of society, a consumer of fine cheeses and toothpicked snacks. Just think about it, no more streaking pledges across campus…because that’s really not that funny unless your drunk. No more belching the alphabet or lighting farts, again not funny unless your hammered. Pizza boxes are recycled into green friendly IKEA packaging, no more rowdy football games on the TV just Antique Roadshow re-runs and rush week turns into home and garden tours where….. wait you know what? On second thought I think they should just keep the cheap beers and wear those greek embroidered polo shirts. Their inner caveman will thank them for it later when they get married.
Speaking of frat guys who are no longer in control of their own brains. Night of the creeps has a whole bus load of them as helpless co-eds faceoff against zombified frat brothers whose brains are infested with alien slugs. Makes your last prom date not look so bad don’t it? Chris “don’t call me George” Romero is a red headed nerd in a sweater vest and J.C. is a wise talker in an arm brace walker out cruising around pledge week. Suddenly Chris spots Cindy Cronenberg, a pretty college girl with the voice of a chipmunk hooked on helium. Chris can’t resist a girl who looks like a super model but sounds like Rocky from a Bullwinkle cartoon so he has J.C. try to introduce him to her. Unfortunately his weak human ears can’t handle her vocal octaves so they have to pledge a fraternity to impress her instead. Brad, their fearless leader and king of polo pop-up collars sends them on a pledge mission to steal a corpse and drop it on the front lawn of a rival frat house. Nothing really says a fun greek week like rotting corpse lawn decor so Chris and J.C. break into a medical lab on campus hoping to score some fresh dead. They find a freeze dried corpse instead who had a close oral encounter with some alien slugs 40 years earlier. Why the med students decided to freeze this guy like a TV dinner is beyond me. “We have to preserve his tall hair style for future generations!”

Smart as a brick J.C. hits the child friendly release button and the corpse starts spitting out slugs from it’s head like a broken Pez dispenser. J.C. has such a big mouth it’s an easy target for the alien slugs so he soon gets zombified during a bathroom break and his failed burning toilet paper roll defense. Dead med students start walking, janitors are turned into mopping alien incubators, zombie dogs and cats living together..it’s mass hysteria!

To save the world they get cop Detective Ray Cameron played pitch perfect by Tom Akins. Ray is hankering for some good old slug skeet shooting and blows the head off an infested axe murder earlier just to warm up. Meanwhile Chris and Cindy are torching some slugs-ka-bobs outside the sorority house and mulching their lawn with frat guy’s innards. Detective Cameron  fights off more zombies inside the house dirty Harry style and gets to deliver one of the great lines in b-movie history “The good news is your dates are here…the bad news is they’re dead.” That’s pure movie gold right there. The slugs have all gathered in the basement to munch on some freshly canned brain preserves and Detective Cameron has got a can of gasoline just waiting to start the pyrotechnic grand finale. If you’ve seen the more recent movie called Slither directed by James Gunn then you’ll see the direct influence of this classic 80’s horror slug-fest on that story. Now if the owners of this film would just release the darn movie rights already so we could watch it on DVD. In the meantime you’ll just have to sift through some old VCR tapes bargain bins to find this little horror gem. Retroman Steve says check it out and be sure to bring some matches.

Roadside Attractions

– 3 naked alien midgets
– 1 sorority house explosion
– 1 corpsicle
– 1 fratastic bus crash
– 1 cat of the living dead
– Doggy slug-dispensers
– Canned brain storage
– Peeping tom zombies
– Lawn slug exterminators
– Zombie mowing and landscape services

rated 8.6 out of 10 for the movie

The most popular fraternities on my campus? I Felta Thigh and Kappa Tappa Kegga

Check out the trailer for Night of the Creeps

Dec

posted by admin | December 17, 2008 | 80's movies, Horror movies, Review by Barry Goodall

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here\'s a dollar...buy yourself a bucket of shirt.

“Here’s a dollar…go buy yourself a bucket of shirts.”

I never haver really understood the appeal of fine jewelry. Women swoon over a pretty diamond perched on a gold ring or a silver necklace covered in precious stones but couldn’t the same look be accomplished with colored glass and metallic spray paint? The obsession kicks into an estrogen overdrive when a gal shows her friends her new engagement ring. You’d think she just won the Super-Bowl. “Ooooh..look how big the diamond is!” They drool over it’s shininess like Golum in Lord of the Rings. It’s a totally different experience for us guys. When we get our wedding band we fiddle with it,  place it on the soap holder in the shower precariously over the drain or spin it on the table just to see how long it will spin…right before it accidentally goes down the heating vent. We grudgingly buy you jewelry because we know you love it and hopefully it’s fair compensation for the dumb things we have done in the past and will continue to do over the course of the marriage. If given the choice though, we’d probably pawn it and buy something more practical that makes clicky electronic noises or has blinky lights. Give me a nice lazyboy chair with a built in fridge and remote…now see that’s something useful, or how about a 6 foot tall stuffed monkey wearing a beanie hat hold a serving tray. That would go great in the living room next to that fine china cabinet and really isn’t it just as practical? Friends would come over to admire it and they would put their drinks on the serving tray and ask me “So where did you get this cool monkey?” I’d proudly respond “Well I almost bought something impractical like jewelry but ordered this instead, and check out these new usb-powered nose haired trimmers I got yesterday!” Oh Sharper Image catalogs, how I will miss thee.

Where's me Lucky Charms?Speaking of people obsessed with precious metals, The movie Leprechaun proves that you shouldn’t take gold from a midget with buckles on his shoes and that they also make the worse house guests. Leprechauns are regularly sited exiting bars on St. Patty’s day but only the mean ones likes to hang out in the backwoods of Arkansas. So when a drunk Irish redneck tricks one into giving him his bag of gold coins, Irish tempers flare and it unleashes an unholy revenge on him and his wife. With the gold prices going through the roof you can understand him being a bit peeved over the loss of his dublins. His pint-sized gold rush is cut short though when Mr. O’Grady shoots the little bugger with his handgun and then seals him in a storage crate protecting it with a 4-leaf clover. Sure, vampires melt in sunlight, werewolves die from silver bullets, but leprehauns have only to fear lawn weeds. Spring forward 10 years and a young Jennifer Aniston, pre-Friends, and her Billy Ray Cyrus looking dad show up to do some renovations on the dingy old O’Grady house accidentally breaking the clover-seal of freshness. Also working on the rennovation is a foul-mouthed kid named Nathan (nevermind those pesky child labor laws), his slow-witted friend Ozzie and a Kevin Bacon look alike who must have lost his shirt sleeves in a freak fan accident.

the ketchup bottle got away from me!

Nathan and Ozzie discover a hidden bag of gold after following a magic rainbow to an old rusty truck in the woods…also a likely place for my 401k savings. Upon taking the gold they find themselves having to defend the house against the blood thirsty leprechaun. He hides out in cereal cupboards, goes go-karting, rides pogo sticks, and antagonzing policeman. Are we sure this isn’t just a punk kid jacked up on Red Bull? Seemingly now indestructible after get slammed with 10 shot gun blasts to the chest he easily gets distracted by having dirty leather shoes tossed at his head. Leprecahuns are known to be obsessive shoe shiners so this distracts him long enough for Jennifer to escape for help in her Jeep. She attempts to track down Mr. O’Grady at retirement home to find out how to kill the leprechaun but gets ambushed by the evil dwarf incognito who tries to run her over in a pimped out wheelchair. Little known fact that Leprechaun’s upper body strength is like that of Arnold Swarzenneger. There’s a big showdown at the farmhouse where they  make a final stand against the malevolent Irishman while searching the lawn for 4 leaf clovers. It all comes down to a gorey conclusion by the hands of a mighty sling shot and a stick of bubble yum. A sort of anti-David and Goliath ending.

I had always been meaning to see this film and remember the VHS tape cover at my local video store along with it’s countless sequels but was never in the mood even on St. Patty’s day. I like my psychotic  killers above 3 feet tall (sorry Chucky.) It just didn’t seem like something that could be very scary and I was correct…Not scary but still entertaining. You gotta admire a Leprechaun that’s just so darn happy on his killing spree. The little guy takes pride in his job. Retroman Steve says check it out, you’ll never look at your Lucky Charms cereal the same way ever again. 

Roadside Attractions

– Extreme house shack makeover
– Pogo vault to the chest
– Obsessive shoe cleaning
– 1 Bear trap
– 3 Leprechaun tossings
– Leprechaun skate boarding
– Irish dwarf Skeet shooting
– Irish go-cartin’
– Eyeball gouging
– Clover pickin’
– Lucky charms of death
– Exploding wishing wells

rated 7.1 out of 10 for the movie

In case you have a unwanted leprechaun house guest  may I suggest offering him some Clover Leaf Flaked Light Spicy Thai Chili Tuna. It’s delicious. He’ll burst into flames and you won’t have the messy clean-up.

Check out the trailer for Leprechaun

Dec

posted by admin | December 7, 2008 | 50's b-movies, Horror movies, Review by Barry Goodall

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who cut the cheese?

“Who would stab this helpless wedge of cheese? A shameless cheese cutter?!!”

When I was a student designer in college, one of my required classes was sculpting. As a young illustrator I went in a bit cocky thinking that I could create the next masterpiece simply by closing my eyes and molding the clay into a work of perfection. Or maybe I could be like Patrick Swayze in the movie “Ghost” and show my lady my sensual fruit bowl making skills except without the whole getting shot and being stuck with Whoopi Golburg as my post-death translator. My sculptures actually looked a bit more like a deranged Gumby or a Mr. Bill on a good day (after he got ran over by the steamroller.) But I persevered in a sort of horrifying dedication to congealed mud expressionism. The only perk you’d get was the  occassional female nude models that would pose for the class. You’d think that would be a great opportunity for us horny college guys to gawk at some of the finest female figures higher education has to offer. Well, these ladies were getting paid student rates so at best you got a large burly women who believes in the “all natural” look. Something a economy tub of Nare will barely make a dent into. I learned quickly that I was no Michelangelo and my sculptures would take a turn for the worst in not studying the delicate features of Lumber Jack Janice. My sad attempt at fine art turned out to be more of unintentional abstract expressionism. “You see the one leg is longer that the other to represent woman’s plight in societal oppression…errr.” “Uhhh…note how the face is lopsided…an obvious portrayal of humanities self reflection of it’s own inner turmoil…”  I never did end up wearing a beret or swilling wine at the latest art gallery opening but I did learn that clay is hard to clean out from under your fingernails and that if you’re going to get paid to be nude it better be at a bar with a 2 drink minimum.

Walter Paisley (Dick Miller) knows what it means to be a struggling artist. He works days as a bus boy at a beatnik bar/art gallery then at night likes to work a bit on his art career. He’s not the sharpest tool in tool shed though when he inadvertently stabs his land lady’s dimwitted cat who got stuck in his wall again. Consumed with a lack of talent and a deep hatred of PETA, he slaps some clay on the carcus and calls it art hoping to impress his beatnik peers. The owner of the gallery and fellow beatniks love his new masterpiece hailing him a genius and throwing him a party where they dress him up like a king and write him poems. It’s like his own personal Renaissance fair. Everyone is excited to see his next piece completely unaware of it’s ghoulish creamy nugget center, so Walter starts offing people left and right to put together a quick exhibition. Also a benefit of becoming a murderous psychotic artist is you can finally wear that beret and gay neck scarf you’ve had your eye on. Walter’s sculpture range from “Undercover Police Guy I hit with frying pan” to “Naked bimbo I invited over and then choked the life out of her.” But probably his best piece is “Some dude working on a table saw in the alley that I decapitated.” It was not only his best piece but the easiest to transport and makes an excellent table center piece.

 

heads up

The gallery’s owner soon discovers Walter’s little secret but wimps out in not calling the police and instead just acts akward around Walter and sweats a lot. The big art exhibition starts off well until the guests start fiddling with the sculptures discovering the grisly secret under their surface. Did somebody forgot to put out the do not touch signs the night before? Meanwhile Walter has confessed his love for one of the beatnick chicks, Carla, and nothing says love more than involuntary taxidermy, but she “ain’t into that scene can you dig?” so Walter ends up chasing Carla and a angry mob ends up chasing Walter. Carla must have been training for a triathlon because Walter gives up the chase and tries to hide in his apartment…nobody will EVER think of looking for him there. The tragic and ironic ending only emphasis the evils of play-dough but is also a testament to incompetent gallery owners everywhere. 

Roger Corman wrote and directed this 50’s flick. The man is a machine whose been turning out films since the dawn of celluloid and truly is the king of b-movies. One of his tammer and shorter films but surprisingly entertaining with a bit of a hitchcock flavor to it. Retroman Steve says check it out and be sure to bring your pottery wheel.

Roadside Attractions

-1 frying pan to the head
-1 chick chokin’
– Cat-atonic
– Extreme neck scarves
– Orson Wells beatnik poets
– Corpse drop ceilings
– Beatnik civil war actors
– Play-dough of death
– Table saw decapitation

rated 7.3 out of 10 for the movie

“No clay was harmed in the filming of this movie. Well maybe except for Clay Aikens.”

Check out the trailer for A Bucket of Blood.

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