I haven’t had cable television in over a decade. I refuse to pay for something that every time I flip it on I feel as if my brain is steadily being churned into chunky apple sauce. This is not to say that I don’t know what’s on there. On occasion, I have sat and witnessed what most of our nation happily plops down and allows to be broadcast into our living rooms every evening. You know, for the entire family to enjoy. Let’s just say, it’s mildly disturbing. What are the repercussions of such resignation on our society? A world where our entire culture and society is saturated with celebrity gossip, ugly, degrading reality television, and political pundits who would rather preach hate and intolerance than have an intelligent and respectful discussion?
Bobcat Goldthwait’s latest directorial effort, “God Bless America”, takes on this disheartening concept in the form of a deeply dark, satirical comedy. It’s got something for everyone who’s sick of the “Oh, no, you didn’t!” generation that’s grown up planted on a couch, glued to the screen, all but lobotomized, and no longer concerned with discerning thought, open-mindedness, respect, common courtesy, or even kindness. It’s a generation of people who demand respect, but don’t give it in return, who demand to be heard but refuse to listen, who know they come first and the rest of the world just doesn’t fucking matter. Of course, this is a “fictional” world that our protagonist, Frank, inhabits, right? A middle aged, middle class, divorced parent who also happens to be a war veteran. He must deal with his obnoxious neighbors who don’t seem to mind their 24/7/365 wailing infant, and talk loudly and incessantly (over their screaming offspring) about occurrences on their favorite TV shows and the latest gossip on Bradgelina.
Frank is aware of this drought in the human spirit. That we have sold it for a fast food and soulless culture that worships greed and selfishness over compassion and selflessness. Frank sits in his living room flipping through the channels as photoshopped pictures of President Obama dressed up as Adolf Hitler are promoted as some kind of warped sense of reality, a random, class-act reality TV star pulls out her bloody tampon and angrily splats it across the face of her costar who, I can only assume, crossed her (the details of their quarrel are lost among beeped-out dialogue). It’s a sick, sad world Frank lives in. And not even he ever-cool “Daria” kind. To make matters worse, Frank has just lost his job, been informed he has an inoperable, fatal brain tumor growing in his noggin, and his pre-teen daughter refuses to come visit him flipping her shit over receiving a Blackberry instead of an iPhone for her birthday.
Frank can’t take it anymore, but just as he wraps his lips around the barrel of a Glock the blue light of the television screen spills over him. ”My Super Sweet 16″ is on and an entitled high schooler is cursing and berating her parents in a self-righteous rage after she is presented with a top o’ the line vehicle that is NOT the one she had envisioned. Frank comes to the epiphany that the gun he’s holding is pointed in the wrong direction. Our hero ends up on a road trip to off the outrageous brat he blames for his own daughter’s (and the general world’s) ridiculously selfish behavior. However, he, also, winds up inspiring and being inspired by a teenage girl, Roxy, who’s just as disillusioned and angry at the egomaniacally brain-dead society they are forced to abide. Or are they? They lock, load, and go on a rampage laying waste to those assholes who talk and text during movies, jerks who take up two full parking spaces, and hate mongers who stand at the side of the road holding signs declaring “God Hates Fags”. Frank and Roxy gun them down and mow them over with glee. I can’t help but chuckle at the carnage as these people are decimated and punished for being a part of a “civilization that is no longer interested in being civilized”.
As is the case with Bobcat’s previous work, God Bless America will have you laughing with dark revelry as those who make everyday life a constant struggle finally mess with with the wrong nice guy. Also typical of Bobcat, despite the deeply-etched satirical pitch-black edge, the filmmaker manages to imbue this work with genuine, human emotion, poignancy, and thought-provoking pathos. Joel Murray, the instantly recognizable character, is amazing as Frank. He infuses the role with so much heart and believability that you cannot help but root for the guy, whether due to or despite his impressive body count. Roxy,Tara Lynne Barr, as Frank’s young sidekick and voice of the younger generation is a firecracker, a natural whose sassy, fun performance, keeps the film well-paced and peppy.
God Bless America is a sometimes graphic, often profane and funny for most of its running time. However, by film’s end it starts to register that this is the same violent and malicious motivation that drives those who blow up abortion clinics or lynch people because of the color of their skin. The killers we profess to despise believe they are murdering those “who deserve to die” too, right? The first 45 minutes of God Bless America starts out blazingly funny as it lampoons pop culture and society at large, but as it winds to a close the viewer may begin to wonder, have both Frank and Roxy steadily descended into the mean-spirited people they were trying to destroy? God Bless America is hilarious, tragic, sometimes uncomfortable, frequently challenging, and totally uncompromising. It’s the kind of film that doesn’t come around very often, anymore. One that asks some nasty questions, takes an angry stance, and asks the audience to internalize these things. That they sincerely ask themselves just what the fuck they make of it all.
And keep your eyes peeled for TV’s Frank from MST3K in a brief cameo. Guck-Ga-Yuuuuw!
Wait...did Charlie even use that axe he's holding in this poster?
a Primal Root written review
My friend Sam wanted to see this movie. He was stoked. His enthusiasm lead me to go along with him. Hell, how bad could it be? As the songs goes. “I wish that I knew what I know now…when I was stronger.” We both left the theater in agony around 2:00 this morning…
I really had no interest in this remake. At all. Fright Night is one of my all time favorite horror films of the 80′s, Hell, it’s one of my favorite horror movies period. Under the masterful direction of Tom Holland, Fright Night was a vibrant, funny, spooky, gruesome love letter to horror’s Golden Age updated with many excellent in-camera effects and some down right awesome performances by everyone involved. Holland even managed to give all the characters involved (even those in supporting roles) back stories, the space to breath and in turn, gave the film a lot of heart. All of this is why Fright Night endures as a horror fan favorite and why audiences keep coming for more.
And then there’s Fright Night 2011…Remember, I saw this movie for you.
Don't feel bad, Colin, I hear it happens to lots of guys...
I cannot even think of where to begin…well, the beginning is as good a place as any. We are introduced to our new Charlie Brewster who lives in a modern suburb of Las Vegas where every house looks exactly the same. The camera glides over the houses showing us how uniform they all are and as I watched this new Fright Night that was the final moment I felt hope…Maybe the film would be some kind of commentary on how interchangeable we all have become in a world where individuality is pushed aside for convenience sake? I dunno, needless to say, I was over estimating this corn riddled turd of a film.
Charlie (Yelchin) is now a dirt bike enthusiast who is trying to grapple with his past so that he can still hang out with the cool kids at school and get the sticky finger from his uninteresting girlfriend, Amy (Poots. Tee-Hee) See, Charlie used to play some kind of roll playing game with his old nerdy best friend “Evil” Ed (Plasse/McLovin’) and Charlie must keep this past and the existence of his old best friend buried at all costs or else he won’t be popular anymore.
I guess the decision here was to make every main character unlikable from the get-go, especially Charlie. Rather than giving the audience a surrogate in Charlie as the original had ( a bit of an awkward nerd, passion for horror movies, having girl troubles and attempting to defeat the forces of evil) instead we get this Charlie. He has a dirt bike and is trying to be popular. How…interesting…
So, Jerry (Farrell) moves in next door to Charlie and his single Mom, Jane (Toni Collette! What are you doing in this mess?) and is introduced as he does his yard work…as the sun is just beginning to set. Let me remind you, Jerry’s a vampire. Of course he’s charming, suave, built and ready to fuck and/or eat anything that moves and, true to form, the ladies around town are instantly drawn to this type of undead, evil, sociopath…
"And may your forehead grow like the mighty oak."
I think possibly the saddest thing about Fright Night 2011 is how quickly Jerry is revealed to be a full force vampire. Literally, ten minutes in and one of the main protagonists is attacked and turned. Jerry’s reveal in the original takes time to build, the tension grows as does the suspicion and the paranoia until Jerry finally confront Charlie. In the new Fright Night he basically walks up a goes. “Hey, I’m a vampire.” Yep…quite the reveal.
The filmmakers try to punch up the long spells of boredom and Collin Farrel mugging sly smiles to the camera before sniffing the air in all directions, with uninspired car chases, cameos from previous cast members (of whom I felt deeply embarrassed for) and David Tennant grabbing his testicles for inspired comic relief as our new Peter Vincent, the leather pants wearing, premature ejaculating host of Fright Night. No, Fright Night is no longer a late night cable access spook show… now it’s a Las Vegas magic show.Tennant’s portrayal of Vincent is a dreadfully over the top performance that’s given no real gravity or sense of reality especially once the back story of this new Peter Vincent is revealed.
The Smarmy goes to 11.
Fright Night 2011 is nothing more than product. There’s not a whole lot for me to talk about in this review because there’s nothing there. It’s vapid, empty and a complete waste of time, effort, talent, money and celluloid. Characters that were believable, that you once felt for whether they were human or monster, are reduced to terrible one liners and the most senseless and dull headed characterization I’ve witnessed since those fucking Transformers movies took off. Oh yeah, it’s that kind of bad. Perhaps, even worse, since Fright Night had such incredible source material to plunder.AND DON’T SEE THIS THING IN3-D! It’s a waste of money. Unless 3-D doorways and apple eating is worth an additional 5 bucks to you…
Maybe I am just getting too old. Perhaps references to Google, Ebay and excellent Century 21 product placements aren’t enough to make me laugh. It just makes me roll my eyes in my old man disgruntlement knowing what I am watching is nothing more that a cheap, piece of shit knock of of a once inspired and wholly entertaining story. A film that in 1985 reminded us of how imaginative and fun horror cinema could truly be! Hell, I watch it today and I still wish people strived to make movies as great as Fright Night (85). Movies where you walk out of the theater feeling exhilarated and wishing you could spend even more time in that universe.
And then there’s the new Fright Night. Where you walk out feeling like you were the one who just had your blood drained. It seemed they tried to walk a middle ground where they might appeal to old fans and new. In the end, they ended up with something I feel will appeal to neither.
Perhaps you should just stop TRYING to be so cool, Brewster…
There are certain perks one encounters when working at a video store. Free rentals, free coffee, cute girls asking about Friday the 13th movies, etc. But one of my favorite things is when a customer walks in and starts talking about some movie I’ve never even heard of. Just last week a young guy by the name of Alex came in singing the praises of a 1979 period film called ‘The Wanderers’. Now, I was certain he meant ‘The Warriors’ until he began describing this flick to me.
‘The Wanderers’ takes place in New York City in 1963 and is the coming of age story centering on three twenty-something high school boys who happen to be in the Italian. golden jacket clad greaser gang, The Wanderers. There’s Richie (Ken Wahl- ‘Fort Apache, The Bronx’.) who is kind of the unofficial leader of the gang and happens to be courting the young daughter of a prominent mafia kingpin. We get to to witness Richie giving her the wiggle stick before the credits roll! What a treat.
Our other lead is a wormy king named Joey ( John Friedrich – ‘The Final Terror’) who is secretly an incredible artist, lives with his alcoholic, physically abusive, gigantic Father and dreams o a better life while acting like Lenny and Squiggy’s missing brother. At first his shtick is a little annoying but by the end of the film I ended up really liking the character despite myself.
And then there’s Perry ( Tony Ganios – Meat from the ‘Porky’s’ Trilogy) whose the new kid in town, stands at least 6’7″, has shoulders broader than a barn door and plays the voice of reason as soon as he arrives and saves a select group of The Wanderers from being crushed into Wanderer Jelly Preserves by about a dozen members of The Baldies…
The Baldies are bat shit crazy. They will kill you without thinking twice, will allow any race or gender to join as long as they shave their head and are up for crushing skulls at a moments notice. They are led by a monstrous psychopath who goes by the name of Terror ( The late, great, Erland van Lidth). Terror’s a complete asshole but he does have a great sense of humor and a flare for excellent penis-centric practical jokes. The Baldies also have a mascot in the form of Terror’s girlfriend, Peewee ( Linda Manz – ‘Gummo’) who is either remarkably short of is just dwarfed by all the members of The Baldies. She’s got greasy hair, a leather jacket and strikes like a cobra. But hidden underneath that tough exterior is the heart of a romantic. Quite a cool supporting character. I honestly wish there were more of her in the story.
The film itself is an adaptation of the novel by Richard Price which drew much of it’s inspiration from his life experience . ‘The Wanderers’ focuses on a rivalry that grows between The Wanderers and another gang called the Del Bombers who are all black. It’s feud they plan to settle and they do…on the football field. That’s right, the story leads us to a football game of glory that leads to a final confrontation that will either push these gangs apart even further or finally bring them together.
However, as the movie unfolds we are introduced to much more real life drama going on behind the scenes as each of these young men deal with family issues, troubles with women and even problems that develop in their friendships. Hell, even a pre-Raiders of the Lost Ark Karen Allen shows up as a character named Nina to add some fuel to afew fires in the film. And let me tell you, she plays one heck of a plot device. She shows up, causes havoc, and is only seen once more. Her part is small, but pivitoal and surprisingly memorable. Karen looks GORGEOUS in this flick, by the way…especially during that strip poker game.
But as much chaos as Nina and The Baldies cause they all look like Quakers when compares to Ducky’s Boys. Holy shit, I have no idea who these guys are but their numbers reach up to at least several hundred, they are creepy as hell, blood thirst as sharks and the only character study we get of them is the fact that they are devote Catholics ( As if that’s not scary enough!). We are never sure what their motivations are or what their end game is. The never utter a single word. They simply smile at you like the Cheshire cat and the swiftly jam their switch blade into your loser neck. These guys are definitely the ultimate villains of the piece, and like any good bogeyman, they are made far more frightening by their lack of explanation.
‘The Wanderers’ certainly shows it’s age. Then again, I watched an old VHS copy in a giant turtle case…Either way, it’s a damned good, entertaining coming of age gang movie. One of the better ones I’ve seen and would make an excellent double feature with that other 1979 gang flick with the ridiculously similar title ‘The Warriors’. It plays like American Graffiti with switch blades, extreme profanity, violence and gang warfare.
This is some forgotten Trash Cinema well worth tracking down. ‘The Wanderers’ delivers the goods and then some. Sure, it’s got it’s technical flaws (oh man, don’t get me started on the editing) but overall, Phillip Kaufman’s (Quills, The Right Stuff) tale of growing up in a blood soaked, and insanely tense environment holds some very human moments that strike right to the heart of everyone whose tried to escape the hand life’s dealt them. Or those who have done battle with Catholics.
Before I begin, let me first apologize for the Year Three hiatus. I am sure most of you heard about the trouble I ran into with my Mac just as 2011 dawned on us. Well, things are back up and running better than ever and I am happy to being you the latest Rotten Review for the 1994, Edward Furlong cyber horror fest, Brainscan!
Brainscan is the tender story of a crippled boy who is into horror movies, grunge rock, plaid shirts and video games. This young man’s name is Michael and he decides to try out the latest in interactive CD-ROM technology called BRAINSCAN. This game of murder turns out to be a little too real for our little Mickey as he learns there is a high cost to murder which includes having to deal with a lame joke spewing villain with an oddly shaped head who goes by the name of Trickster.
Get ready for peeping on the girl next door, bland home decor, annoying best friends named Kyle, Oscar Nominated Actors phoning it in, monsters cocks, fright wigs, cat teeth, gratuitous leg wounds, limping, surprise butt sex, teen angst, name calling, and a TON of Three stooges footage.
It’s the rare horror film with a ZERO body count and brings up some hot button issues as to how much we can blame violent crime on violent entertainment. At the end of the movie, this is all left open for debate. Still, kudos to Brainscan for even bringing it up. I believe you know where I stand on the topic.
Enjoy the latest Rotten Review, Gang! We have a whole lot in store for you in Year Three!
a Primal Root written review
Man, oh, man, do I remember a time when Wes Craven was the man. When he was the sick hippie sadist who brought us flicks like the brutal rape/revenge classic Last House on the Left and the road-trip mutant fiasco film, The Hills Have Eyes. He created (althoughRobert Englund deserves just as much credit) the most iconic and important boogieman of the last 30 years in hideously scarred, murderous, dreamstalker, Freddy Krueger… He even brought the slasher film back for a post-modern rebirth with the Kevin Williamson-penned Scream franchise. But then something went horribly wrong. Scream 3 sucked. As did his werewolf flick, Cursed…Red Eye was really his last decent film before he went into producer mode and got on board the remake wagon to oversee the re-imaginings of some of his beloved earlier works with varying degrees of success…
And then, in 2010, Wes Craven came back with a new and original horror film in 2010! One that would prove once again why he is considered a Master of Horror! A supernatural horror film about schizophrenia, possession, soul collecting, California Condors, superstition, urban legend, prayer, pregnancy, blow jobs and two male leads who have terrible hair look like they smell even worse. Oh yes, here comes My Soul to Take…IN 3D!!!
As a horror fan I try to defend Wes to the best of my ability. The guy has seriously made some fantastic films, many of which he penned himself. He’s created memorable, timeless horror classics that are still viewed, still entertaining and still discussed today. He once upon a time proved that truly memorable horror didn’t just go after your guts, but after your mind as well. Sure, you can gross people out but if you really want your audience to be thinking about your movie when they go to bed the best place to attack is upstairs where their deepest, darkest fears live.
My Soul to Take was the last straw.
Our film begins with a grizzly killing spree in which a husband and father has the revelation that he is “The Ripper”, a serial killer that’s been going around town gutting folks with his super cool knife he must have ordered from swordsofmight.com. See, this fellow didn’t realize he was “The Ripper” because he’s schizophrenic…*sigh*. He calls his shrink but it’s already too late because he’s already slashed up and killed his pregnant wife. When the police arrive he has stabbed himself multiple time and is about to hack up his tiny daughter when the cops blow him away. But not very well. Because this asshole wakes up for approximately a dozen goddamn jump scares that are far more hilarious than they are shocking. The film’s prologue ends with an ambulance explosion, about five more dead bodies and three critically injured…and the killer somehow crawls off the gurney and is never heard from again…
SIXTEEN YEARS LATER!
Turns out on the night The Ripper was killed SEVEN children were born. That’s right, seven kids in this small community were born on the night The Ripper died. And on their collective birthday these kids go down to the river and perform some kind of passion play where they invoke The Ripper’s spirit and then knock over a puppet…I dunno. The cops show up just as all our stock characters are listed off. Several of them gather behind a fallen log o spend what feels like 20 fucking minutes discussing the myths and urban legend surrounding The Ripper. See, we already know everything that happened. We just saw it at the very beginning of the film. So to hear all these stories surrounding The Ripper is mind numbingly tedious.
What't the blind character looking at over there?
We’ve all seen Wes Craven’s magnum opus, A Nightmare on Elm Street. Remember how well Freddy’s back story was handled? It was always kept in the shadows. It was whispered about and the audience learned along with our hero Nancy just who her nemesis was. This added to our interest as an audience and gave the whole film a veil of mystery and suspense. When you show your audience from the outset what the back story of your villain is there’s not much left to reveal. But, then again, we still haven’t gotten to the California Condor/ Soul Collector shit yet…
Once My Soul to Take’s opening gore soaked hilarity comes to an end and our 7 possibly evil teens are introduced the pacing slows down to a snail’s pace. After one teen is dispatched in a relatively well handled murder sequence the film, once again, takes detour into Expositionville, where it spends the majority of its running time. We get a little taste of all 6 (sorry, one dies early on) of these kids’ lives but none of them are developed. Even our lead red herring, Bug, is never clearly defined. We know he makes really cool puppets and costumes, speaks in creepy voices, likes the blonde girl but is only liked by the red headed uber-christian…I dunno, he’s the lead and I can’t tell you anything more about him than this without revealing any of the twists you’ll guess right from the beginning. Still, I will try to be a gentleman and let you figure it out on your own.
It’s apparent that the creative force behind My Soul to Take has no clear grip on what it is to be a teenager in America. All the typical Breakfast Club characters are present. The pretty one, the outcast, the nerd, the unbelievably violent jock…with the added bonus of an asian weho has 5 minutes screen time, a blind black kid who has 10 and a very attractive red head fire and brimstone religious fanatic. Do any of these character or their clichéd traits add anything of significance to the story? Are you kidding?! Of course not. They all end up as lunch meat and do little more than walk around uttering mundane, ridiculous dialog that you would never hear come out of a teenager’s mouth.
Our teeny-boppers attend a droll and disturbingly empty high school. Really, the school is gigantic yet the only people we ever see in the halls or out in the courtyard are our key players. There’s no hustle or bustle between classes and even the gigantic hallways remain empty as our teen protagonists trade off meaningless, vapid dialog for endless, yawn educing stretches.
And The Ripper himself (Which is my nickname every time I eat a helping of baked beans) is little more than a dreary, watered down potty mouthed amalgam of Freddy and Horace Pinker dressed up in a zombie Bob Marley costume. There’s also shades of Ghostface from the Scream franchise because The Ripper can’t just stalk and kill these kids. He has to give them taunting cell phone calls beforehand.
I suppose you can guess the fate of 'Blow-Job Gil' if you examine this photo. The Farter, er, The Ripper comes in from behind! Murder? Or surprise butt sex? See the movie...
Come to think of it, it’s almost as if Wes Craven put a handful of his films (Shocker, Scream, A Nightmare on Elm Street) in a blender and hit puree. Hell, there’s even elements from the lesser Nightmare films to be found. Remember that lame plot device Renny Harlin used in Nightmare on Elm Street Part 4: The Dream Master? The one where Alice absorbed the souls of her friends when they died and she could utilize the one character trait that made them unique (i.e. karate, strength training, um, the power to plug things into outlets and press the power button…) and used those abilities to defeat Freddy in the end? Well, a certain character in My Soul to Take has the same ability. He’s called the keeper of souls *face palm* only he doesn’t use any of their unique characteristics to defeat The Ripper, I mean what would he use? Blindness? Faith in God? Extreme Bitchiness? Constant Requests for blow jobs? These are not the weapons one needs to defeat a possibly supernatural monster intent on ripping out your lower intestine and using it as a jump rope.
No, this time around the souls help him figure out probability equations…to figure out the identity of the killer. Could it be one of the 7 kids (obviously not that one that dies in the beginning) or is it The Ripper returned from the grave? Or did The Ripper never die? The answer to this question is a lot lamer than you might initially think.
My Soul to Take is a film chock full of ideas, not good ones, but ideas nonetheless. Craven just can’t seem to find a way to incorporate all of them and leave space to realistically develop his characters or give them understandable motivations and instead just gives them endless scenes where they try and explain to the audience just what in the name of Hell is even happening. I just watched this film and I couldn’t even tell you what the sentiment was. Did Craven have anything to say? Near the conclusion of the film one characters whines out a line similar to, “People shouldn’t kill eachother all the time!” Yeah…what a message.
I swear the lead actor is channeling Jesse from A Nightmare on Elm Street part 2 through the entire film. His sister ain't half bad on the left there...
Well, My Soul to Take is a hunk of complete crap. I have to cut this review short because I could go one for another 2,000 words laying out every gripe I have with this flick. And this is coming from a guy who loves Trash Cinema. Maybe one day I will be able to laugh at this failure, but in the hands of Wes Craven, I expect more. I expect better.
With Scream 4 on the horizon let us all hope Wes Craven can regain some of the edge he once had and bring us something worth our time. I hope Craven can redeem himself. He’s an intelligent and talented man who should know what works in the genre by now. But after watching My Soul to Take, I cannot help but sense a sense of sadness and dread that one of the best lost his touch. Over a decade ago.
The Primal Root is back after a month off and to celebrate I am showcasing a piece of Trash Cinema featuring one of my all time favorite zombie femme fatales. That’s right, Ms. Julie Walker as brought to glorious undead life by the unfathomably gorgeous Melinda Clarke.
Get ready for a Special Guest Appearance from Ms. Jessica Critten (in her final appearance), grotesque body self mutilation, angry Latinos, tortured sewer dwelling do-gooders, half naked dancing zombies in chains and lederhosen, 2-4-5 Trioxin, dumb scientists, brain freeze bullets, teenagers listening to lite rock, necrophilia, terrible government security, brain munching and plenty of slimy, freakish canned zombies.
It’s a wild, bloody, stupid ride with Julie and Curt as they tamper in God’s domain and end up paying the price. It’s not quite Bride of Frankenstein…hell, it’s hardly Bride of the Monster. But Return of the Living Dead cracks me up every time and you cannot deny the appeal of a beautiful re-animated redheaded zombie girl with metal stuff shoved through her flesh.
Well, I think I’ve sufficiently creeped you all out enough. Enjoy the latest offering from yours truly, The Primal Root, and The Rotten Reviews.
Your old pal The Primal Root here, bringing you the bizarre best of the strange, forgotten and dismissed here on the Rotten Reviews. And boy, this month do I have one Hell of a movie to show you.
We’re taking a look at 1986′s multiple killer slasher oddity, Neon Maniacs, a film so epic and expansive they couldn’t even be bothered to explain anything. It features 12 creatures dressed like Village People rejects who trot around down town San Francisco after dark to kill people…cause apparently that’s all they do.
Neon Maniacs features a great cast of obscure slasher film actors and actresses that only those truly devoted to Trash Cinema (aka: geeks-like myself) would get excited over. Two of which are from the Friday the 13th series! SCORE!
And make sure to stick around for the old Neon Maniacs Safety Training video left over from the 50′s I managed to track down. It sheds some light on how to deal with these blood sucking freaks. Hey, you can never be too careful.
So enjoy this latest Rotten Review with someone you love. Make sure to keep a beverage handy as well.
Stay Trashy!
- Root
When in Tallahassee Florida make sure to visit Bird’s Aphrodisiac Oyster Shack! Salty Love on the Half Shell, the friendliest staff in town, and always a guaranteed good time.