Archive for the 'Horror 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

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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

Jul

Comments Off on Friday the 13th Part 7: The New Blood

I wonder if Tina could use her \

I wonder if Tina could use her “mind powers” to get my copy of Microsoft Vista to work?

After he told us a cautionary tale about the dangers of cartooning with “Cellar Dweller”, and before we went off to college with the Ghoulies in “Ghoulies 3”, director and special-effects-magician, John Carl Buechler, gave fans one of the best entries in the Friday the 13th franchise with “Friday the 13th Part 7: The New Blood.”

When the opening credits begin to appear on the screen, composer Fred Mollin (“Friday the 13th the TV Series” and “Forever Knight”) immediately sets the mood with an unsettling, atmospheric, synth-score that fits this movie like a glove. A nice touch was having Walt Gorney (known for the role of “Crazy Ralph’ from “Friday the 13th Parts 1 & 2”) come back and narrate over the video clip medley from past films that gets us caught-up on everything Jason.

The story begins with a flashback of a young girl named Tina who takes throwing temper tantrums to another level by unleashing a telekinetic beat-down on her abusive father that ends with him being a barnacle buffet at the bottom of Crystal Lake. Maybe Dad should’ve thought twice before using his wife (Mom) as a party piñata. As an adult, Tina is still an emotional wreck, tormented by the horrific visions of seeing her father die, and worst of all, knowing she was responsible for his death. Her psychiatrist, Dr. Crews (Terry Kiser), convinces Tina and her mom to get away for the weekend at a quiet lakeside cabin while Tina’s hospital room is being painted a cheerful shade of lobotomy grey. This mini-vacation sounded like a wonderful idea until I saw the Crystal Lake sign (cue creepy music) and found out the cabin by the lake is the same one where Dad was turned into fish food years earlier.

The dastardly doctor uses this trip to conduct his lab-rat-like experiments away from the prying eyes of the mental institution. During an intense cram session for the upcoming TAT (Telekinetic Ability Test) there is a mishap involving some matches, and Tina rushes out of the house like she started a fire. While standing on the dock her mind starts to fill with warm memories of dear ol’ Dad, such as his drunken swagger, glassy-eyed stare, and the late-night heave-fests in the bathroom. Her unexpected stroll down Daddy Lane causes a psychic episode, and she casts out a telepathic fishing line in hopes of reuniting with him, but instead hooks big trouble, catching the undead Mr. Voorhees. He was apparently going for a personal best underwater effort, after having broken the world record with a time of several years, making endurance artist, David Blaine’s, time of 17 minutes seem like mere child’s play.

Jason emerges back on land, pissed-off at his failed record attempt and wastes no time getting to work using a variety of home and garden tools against his prey in such a way that would earn him a Home Depot endorsement. This installment contains your usual mix of under-cooked, walking horror cliches. Eddie, a sci-fi writer nerd with a PhD in rejection, couldn’t get laid if he was holding a million dollars in a locked room full of horny hookers. Melissa will remind you of the snobby diva from high school who was voted “Most Likely to Steal Your Boyfriend.” Nick is the resident nice guy from a broken home who is trying to get his life back on track. When he isn’t attending night school, or kicking himself over botched “ice-breakers” involving the opposite sex, he likes to show his sensitive side by doing women’s laundry. Maddy the “nottie” friend of “hottie” Robin is so homely-looking that Medusa would give her beauty tips. David, Head Conductor of the Pothead Express, earns some extra cash on the weekends performing his beer shotgunning extravaganza at college frat parties. Dr. Crews wears “sleazy” like a well-tailored suit, and only wants to profit from Tina’s pain and misfortune. The rest of the cast isn’t worth mentioning, since they only show up on screen long enough to talk about how cold it is, something about wallet sizes, and needing firewood…until Jason arrives, doing his best impression of a Cusinart food processor.

From the brutal kill sequences to the inspired makeup design, this film is all about seeing the masked maniac in action. Buechler shows a fan’s eye for detail, including all of the battle damage, such as the propeller carnage, gunshot to the head, machete slash, axe wound, and missing eye that the Crystal Lake dweller has sustained from previous movie installments, to create the ultimate Jason in all of his gruesome glory. Kane Hodder’s first appearance as Jason (a role he’d reprise in four consecutive movies) is the best portrayal of the character since Ted White became the lakeside slasher in “Friday the 13th Part 4: The Final Chapter.” Proving that he isn’t just another crash test dummy behind a mask, Hodder expresses an array of believable emotions through a latex suit (which isn’t an easy task) without saying a word of dialogue–unless you count groaning. By using a combination of heavy breathing and subtle movements, he carves out a new version of the character that is all his own.

I would definitely recommend this sequel, even in its neutered state (courtesy of the fascist MPAA), as it still has several creative death scenes, some brief, but quality T-n-A, and just enough of the red stuff to keep fans happy, along with a few surprises like solid acting by the lead actors, a telekinetic subplot, and supernatural Jason twist to give this standard slasher formula some new blood.

Keep an eye out for…

– Tree roots gone wild
– Deadly use of a party horn
– Jason’s gross-out face reveal
– Boobtastic melon display that would make a seasoned farmer blush
– Flower pot headbutt
– Wham-bam sleeping bag death slam
– Extreme-makeover
– Self destructing pearl necklace
– Deluxe penis enlarger
– Debut of the Voorhees Death Vise
– Explosive finale
– Super-sleepic love van
– The Battle of the Gargantuan Throngar
– Exclusive Star Mummy preview
– Carol Anne from Poltergeist hairstyle
– Scare Corpse lawn decorations


Rated 9.2 out of 10 for the movie


Watch the trailer for Friday the 13th Part 7: The New Blood.



Jul

Comments Off on Re-animator

Re-animator

“These late night cosmic bowling parties have gotten way out of hand. Frank’s use of a severed head for league play was proof of that even if it did improve his score average.”

Thirty-four years old and I still hate going to the doctor’s office. First there’s the endless wait in the “waiting room”, but then they call you back to a smaller room that’s yet another waiting room…like it’s some sort of bad horror movie “Waiting Room 2.The Day the Doctor Never Came.” Sure, they say he’ll be in momentarily, but doctor time is on the canine time scale where minutes equal hours. “Soon” actually means “whenever he gets back from lunch.” There are only so many times I can read through the fascinating articles in Golf Digest and Home Pottery Magazine before I resort to the ever-popular games of “Ceiling Tile Counting” or seeing how long I can sleep while sitting up. So finally the doctor magically teleports in and runs through a series of questions the nurse had asked just hours before. “Do you have body aches?” “Yes.”  “Do you have a stuffy head?” “Yes.  Congrats, doc–you’ve just diagnosed that I am not feeling well. Then the prescription is for some over-the-counter medicine that he scribbles on a scrap of paper in cryptic ancient Celtic symbols, along with the advice of, “Get some rest and drink plenty of fluids.” I get charged $30 for the doctor’s visit; my insurance gets charged $3,000; and I go home and crawl back into bed. I should have gone to medical school instead of learning how to paint baskets of fruit.

Doctor Carl Hill in the cult classic “Re-animator” doesn’t really help me with my fear of doctors. He’s the “head” neurosurgeon at the Miskatonic Medical School, where he enjoys peeling cadavers’ heads like oranges in his neurosurgery class, and practices suggestive hypnosis at his dinner parties in the evenings. Our hero Dan Cain, played by Bruce Abbott, is a student there, along with his girlfriend, Megan (Barbara Crampton), and are having some nookie while playing hooky off school grounds. All is happy until Herbert West suddenly appears from a stint in Sweden and insists of being Dan’s new roommate but apparently didn’t read the fine print of no deposit returns in case of blood stains in the apartment lease. West wants to use the basement to perform his continuing studies on re-animating dead flesh, create the ultimate glo-stick, and defy God’s will–typical medical school stuff. Instead of picking the obvious test subjects of a Larry King or John McCain, he uses a dead pet cat, causing the feline to turn into a raging, vicious hell-beast that tries to rip them apart. In other words, your average cat.

Learning from his continuing failures, Herbert is ready to test his re-animation serum on some real stiffs in the morgue. Could this be the ultimate energy drink? He and Dr. Hill sneak in past another dimwitted, made-for-film security guard and inject the serum into a recent accident victim, resulting in a spastic reaction similar to the cat. Then the Dean of the school stumbles in on them, so they shoot him up with some of dead juice, too. Is there a help group for people like this?  Perhaps some sort of DRA (Dead Revivers Anonymous)?

Doc Hill arrives at Herbert’s basement un-announced and plans to take the secrets of the serum and claim it as his own invention. Herbert hits him upside the head with a shovel, and proceeds to remove the doc’s head from his body and re-animate it. Now, that’s how you solve a copyright (an intellectual property?) dispute! But the headless doc outsmarts Herbert, kidnaps Megan, and sneaks into the morgue to perform some group lobotomies. Being decapitated really improves one’s productivity.

Dan and Herbert soon confront the doctor, who is trying to get busy with Megan on an examination table (Can we say, “Sexual harassment lawsuit?”), and then they have to take on a legion of walking dead, exploding chests, and frisky intestine tentacles. Actually med school doesn’t sound very appealing now.

This film is on my Amazon’s Listmania as one of the essential must see cult/b-movies from the 1980’s. It redefines the genre of zombie/mad scientist/dark gore comedies. Well It’s actually the only one in that genre, but it does redefine it. Stuart Gordon directed this classic based loosely on a H.P. Lovercraft short story, as well as another great film, “The Beyond.” Though it did spawn several lackluster sequels, this one is definitely the crown jewel. Also we need to give an honorable mention for Jeffery Combs for creating one of the best horror movie characters in cinematic history, Herbert West. He makes over-acting a work of art. He’s in the same league as Bruce Campbell as Ash for his pure awesome-ness. So check it out, but don’t let your doctor give you that shot of the glowing green stuff,even if he says it’s just to clear your sinuses.

Keep an eye out for…

– Jiffy-Pop eyeballs
– head peeling
– zombie cats
– finger snacks
– labatonomy parties
– skater rink glo-stick overdose
– intestine wranglin’
– padded rooms with a view
– zombie boobies
– horny disembodied heads (is that even possible?)
– the ultimate tribute to the band Talking Heads


rated 9.4 out of 10 for the movie


Check out the trailer for Re-animator

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