Posts Tagged ‘accident

17
Feb
14

(NSFW) Cindy & Donna (1970): House of Sexual Deviants

cindy_and_donna_poster_01

 

a Primal Root written review

“You know, it’s just a big kick. A trip, you know? Look, don’t be so serious. I mean, you know, it’s a groove.” – Cindy’s best friend Karen explains sexual intercourse

Growing up sure can be hard, especially when you’re a disturbingly sexy yet trashy teenage girl from a divorced family, your Dad’s a lecherous creep who’s always staring at your step sister while she’s in her underwear, your stepmother’s a constantly bitching alcoholic and your step sister is forever getting laid and trading pussy for pot while you’re still wearing your hair in pigtails and are just too scared to spread those thighs for some pimply faced classmate at the local high school or one of those college jerks still looking to score teeny-bopper poon.

This is the very basic premise of “Cindy & Donna” a very strange brand of coming-of-age flick, exploitation film and soft-core porn. Cindy and Donna are step sisters, Cindy’s the baby of the two and Donna is the older, more sexually experienced. Cindy’s Pop is a boozer and a perv while Donna’s Mom is kind of a booze hound killjoy that I’m sure her husband blames for his tendency to spend all night at bars after work, bang prostitutes and get boners of his stepdaughter. It’s suburban dysfunction at it’s very finest and not really played for laughs, if anything, it all comes of as shockingly depressing…which makes it really funny…Huh? Stay with me.

“Cindy & Donna” tells the story of the red headed, teenage pixie virgin, Cindy (played by Debbie Osborne of “Country Cousins” and “Tobacco Roody” fame, I also happen to have a bit of crush on this chick who vanished off the face of the earth in 1972.) as she begins to blossom and become increasingly curious about what it is to be a sexually active young woman in 1970’s America. A voyeur by nature, she is constantly peeping in on her family members and being exposed to the truly depraved and disturbing sex lives of her Father and stepsister. We’re going to leave Mom out of this because she’s just an alcoholic who spends the majority of the film either drunkenly shouting out insults or passed out in bed watching what sound like bizarre Indian massacre movies.

Cindy witnesses her older stepsister, Donna (the ever foxy Nancy Ison) sneak out of the house at night and ride her boyfriend Greg’s flesh pole of freedom in order to obtain some grass. Cindy is also aware of her Father’s other vice besides alcoholism and ignoring his family, hookers. Ladies of the night. Prostitutes. We are given a front row seat to this doughy, middle aged man’s sexcapades with the lovely and incredibly well built Alice (Alice Friedland, looking like an American version of Swedish sex goddess Christina Lindberg) a professional stripper, spank magazine model and, yes, prostitute, who we’re introduced to in an extended sequence of Alice gyrating her crotch into the camera and bouncing her lovely, bountiful, natural boobs in artsy-fartsy low angle shots that make sure her tits and ass take up THE ENTIRE SCREEN. She invites Pops back to her place for a night of awkward genital grinding, fondling and utterances of the phrase, “You blow my mind!”

I can see the artistic intent here.

I can see the artistic intent here.

After Pops and Alice finish up it is revealed that Alice is only 17, the same age as his naive, peeper of a daughter, Cindy. You’d think this was primed to set up some kind of plot point where Pops would approach his daughter and talk openly with her about “the birds and the bees” and perhaps even cause the man to realize what a terrible Father and husband he’s been and get him on the straight and narrow to ensure his wife and children are provided for emotionally as well as financially and go on to live fulfilling lives together.  No such luck, Pops boozes it up the following night, can’t get an appointment to poke Alice and decides to go home and fuck his stepdaughter, Donna. AND HE DOES! He stumbles into her bedroom completely wasted, disrobes and goes to town on her young, naked, nubile self AND SHE OPENLY ENJOYS IT! She pulls him in closer, smooches his whiskey drenched gob with tongue and allows the patriarch of their family to grope her chesticological region and finger her little Donna.  It’s disturbing and totally unbelievable. Of course, it’s revealed that Cindy is watching this whole incestual shindig go down from the doorway of their adjoining bedrooms before throwing herself upon her bed and weeping. Strangely, the incident is never mentioned again, not once, for the rest of the film. And this a bit more horrifying than the incident where Cindy watched Donna get banged by her boyfriend Greg in the back of his sports car as payment for weed, which Cindy then went back to her bedroom and masturbated over. I started wondering if possibly Cindy is imagining all these sexual hijinks she witnesses as part of her own repressive sexual desires and fantasies, but I might be giving “Cindy & Donna” too much credit. But then again, who know, perhaps director Robert Anderson saw something in this material beyond just the TnA and deep, dark, sexual depravity. One thing’s for sure, looking at the film this way opens up a whole new perspective.

BUT I’M GETTING OFF TOPIC!

Hey, the closer the, the deeper in...

Hey, the closer the, the deeper in…

That morning Mom and Pops head to Vegas for the weekend and are never relevant to the “plot” again. Cindy confides all this, minus the Daddy/Stepdaughter action earlier, to her BFF Karen (sexy, confident, Cheryl Powell) who has recently made the transition from naive young girl to slutty, cock starved teenage hellion. Karen’s advice to Cindy? Get laid, basically. They end up going to the beach where they meet two dorky guys in tiny bathing suits. They hardly even introduce themselves before the gentlemen whisk these ladies off to their casual sex shack on the beach and start putting on the moves.  The moment the scene begins Cindy starts shouting about how she just wants to go home as Karen drops her bikini quicker than you get food poisoning from a McDonald’s Filet-O-Fish sandwich and starts riding her dork pick of the litter as if he were Seabiscuit. “Don’t be a drag, Cindy!” Karen commands as she humps dork boy’s baby batter baton.  The scene goes on for way longer than it should as Karen gets fucked on one bed and Cindy continuously cries “Stop it!” and “No!” on the nearby stained sofa as her zit faced, teen date rapist drools all over her neck and licks her face. This is all taking place in the same room so the camera just sits in medium shot and documents this uncomfortable moment in time for what feels like forever. As soon as Karen gets her rocks off they both head for home where they smoke some weed, put on a record and enjoy some experimental lesbianism so Karen can demonstrate for Cindy “what it feels like.” My, my, it’s been a big day for these two.

Tell me that's not Shia LeBeouf back there.

Tell me that’s not Shia LeBeouf back there.

What’s Donna up to while her parents are out of town? Just hanging out with her boyfriend Greg…and allowing several creepers to take nude photos of her as a way to pay back the money she owes Greg for the weed he purchased her the other day. Rather quickly, the photo shoot devolves (or evolves, depending on your view) into a mild mannered gang bang in Greg’s rumpus room. Donna really gets off on this “groovy” action, despite the men never having to remove their underwear in order to penetrate her baby factory, and the scenes goes on without ever showing the end of the gang bang when they, I assume, smoke a  little reefer, play air guitar and eat Doritos.

The very next morning, after Cindy and Karen spend a night of playing bumper clits together, Karen assures Cindy that she was “marvelous” in the sack and that she should try the ultimate trip and have sex with an actual man.  This gets the wheels turning and Cindy puts her plan into action. She invites Donna’s boyfriend Greg over and they start going at it on the family sofa, which seems like a daring place to lose one’s virginity. I mean, how will Cindy explain that stain to her folks? Anyhoo, Cindy begins taking off her awesome 70’s dress and asks Gregg “Can you dig it?” His reply? “I can dig it.” and she is soon nekkid and rubbing her petite, teeny-bopper body all over Gregg, the Scott Stapp of the 1970’s.  But wouldn’t you know it, just as Cindy’s about to go cock spelunking, Donna comes home and stumbles upon this scene and exclaims “DON’T MESS WITH MY SISTER!” Gregg responds the only reasonable way any man would after being interrupted while about to have his man utter suckled by a young woman, and picks Donna up and throws her out the front door onto her AstroTurf lawn. Donna, confused and mortified (despite the fact she fucked her stepdad a night or two ago) wonders aimlessly into the road and is run over by a car. Cindy watches this happen through the screen door of her Cabrini Green model suburban home and screams. The picture freezes on her shocked and horrified face. We then cut to a brief sequence of her swinging at a jungle gym where we can see her red panties.

The End

 I am speechless. I mean, after the build up of this film I totally expected Donna’s discovery of Cindy boning her boyfriend to end in a threesome, not vehicular manslaughter! This is one Hell of a way to end your sex picture!  I can’t even begin to imagine what poor little Cindy’s therapy bills are going to look like. Acquiring knowledge from afar, as Cindy did, proved only to corrupt her young, curious mind, not enlighten it. Sad, really.”Cindy & Donna” is a bewildering and entertaining exploitation sex picture. Straightforward and shameless to the point of absurdity,” Cindy & Donna” is an ode to teenage indiscretion and skeezy old man perversity that will have you questioning the sanity of those who made it and yourself as you pitch a tent in your corduroy trousers. Filled with copious, unapologetic nudity, drug use, casual incest and experimental lesbianism…the mission statement is blunt. “Cindy & Donna” is a one of a kind, filthy, perverse, sleazy coming of age exploitation film. Yes, I enjoyed it thoroughly.

If you don't talk to your kids about sex, who will?

If you don’t talk to your kids about sex, who will?

I’m giving Cindy & Donna FIVE OUT OF FIVE Dumpster Nuggets. This puppy’s a must see.

Stay Trashy!

-Root

30
Sep
13

The Return of the Living Dead Part 2 (1988) Should Have Stayed Dead

If only this movie were half as cool as it's poster.

If only this movie were half as cool as it’s poster.

a Primal Root written review

“I feel like we’ve been here before. You… Me… Them!” – Thom Mathews as Joey in “Return of the Living Dead Part 2”

1985’s “Return of the Living Dead”  was a cynical, bleak, hilarious gory, nihilistic balls to the wall reinvention of the living dead zombie tropes,  “Return of the Living Dead part 2” is not a step back in regards to quality and creativity, but a disastrous leap backwards over a cliff onto a landfill full of busted whiskey bottles and used up ideas .  “The Return of the Living Dead’s” horror began with a shambling, rotten, corpse pleading for “More Brains!”, which is exactly what the film delivered. An intelligent, fresh and uncompromising vision of what the living dead could be when you break free from all the steadfast rules and restraint set in place by George Romero in his  1968 classic “Night of the Living Dead.”  Return of the Living Dead is fierce, brilliant and everything you could ever want from a horror film of it’s breed. It’s a one of a kind and to make a sequel would be pretty goddamn tough…especially with the ending it delivered.

Never in my wildest dreams could I have envisioned such a horrendously bad, wet fart of a sequel than “The Return of the Living Dead Part 2.” Rarely has a cinematic follow up missed the mark so widely, it’s pretty astounding. Long gone is the wit and dark sense of humor that poured forth from the original, in it’s place are lame jokes, Three Stooges Gags and cast members from the previous film, James Karen and Thom Mathews, returning  as grave robbers with nothing to do but recite their funniest lines from the original film and literally succumb to the same fate they did on the first go round. These jokes were great and worked the first time we heard them, but when you lift the best material from the first movie and reuse it line for line, it’s stale and depressing.

That's what the original "Return of the Living Dead" was missing! A plucky pre-teen protagonist!

That’s what the original “Return of the Living Dead” was missing! A plucky pre-teen protagonist!

Here’s the low down, there’s a little ginger kid named Jesse (Michael Kenworthy who also appeared in the excellent 1988 remake of “The Blob”) who lives in a developing suburb that looks eerily similar to Questa Verde from Tobe Hooper’s “Poltergeist” or that suburb where Elliot lived in Speilberg’s “E.T.” Anyhoo, the kid is chock full of quips and one liners which he unleashes on some neighborhood bullies who he ends up getting picked on by and, eventually, discovers one of those  “corpse in a can” barrels the military likes to lose all over this great nation of ours., which has come to rest in a sewage runoff near the local cemetery. Noticing a decomposing body through the barrels glass lid initially has the kids running for their lives, but as you and I both know from “Stand By Me” young boys cannot stay away from dead bodies and the lure of this corpse barrel proves to be the undoing of the two bullies picking on Jesse. Two head back later that day, bang on the barrel a little bit, and for their efforts are greeted with a nice juicy blast of 2-4-5 Trioxin, the reanimation juice introduced in the original, when the canister opens spraying the boys right in the kisser. hold on to your brains, ’cause we all know just where that leads, don’t we?

As night falls in our little hamlet, the Trioxin makes it’s way to the nearby cemetery and, as if Mother Nature is in on the joke, the sky opens up and a downpour begins soaking the soil and the corpses it contains, priming these cadavers for a night of brain skull cracking and brain slurping. Also in the cemetery are, as I mentioned before, a couple of grave robbers who happen to be the two very talented character actors, James Karen and Thom Mathews, who are for the most part just going through the motions and spouting their greatest hits for the run time and earning their paychecks for appearing in such lazy bullshit. Well, the dead come back to unlife right on cue, but this time they rise from their tombs to a goofy, Looney Tunes style score and are prone to slapstick and pratfalls as they try to pull themselves out of their graves. It’s all painfully unfunny, uninspired, and far from exciting.

Stay in school if you want Brains! Wokka, Wokka, Wokka!

Stay in school if you want Brains! Wokka, Wokka, Wokka!

Soon the movie gets into the scream-a-thon where in place of the originals frantic, insane pace and sense of panic, director Ken Wiederhorn decides to just have the characters scream nonstop for about thirty minutes. Again, this is tedious and boring. As the core cast goes on screaming and wailing, on and on and on, as they run around the suburbs, peel out in a cherry red convertible and freak out as a disembodied hand wiggles around in the back seat is enough to make you start wondering just where in the Hell you put your handgun. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a lobotomy and the epitome of shitty film making.

As you can guess, Thom Mathews and James Karen both turn into zombies and Thom manages to seduce his girlfriend into letting him eat her brains in an awkward scene where she appears to get some kind of sexual gratification as her boyfriend’s teeth crunch open her skull…Just as this occurs and ROTLDp2 dangles the possibility of getting interesting in our face, it unceremoniously yanks it away from us and we find ourselves stuck with Jesse, his sister (whose bouncing breasts during her workout routine early on hypnotized me when I was in third grade) and the dashing cable repair man (played by Dana Ashbrook from TV’s Twin Peaks) as Jesse solves every problem and saves the day…that’s right, an 8 year old kid halts the zombie apocalypse.  In a matter of hours. By luring them into a power station and then simply electrocuting them all…Ooooh, I don’t know…

A visual representation of how I am affected by allergy season.

A visual representation of how I am affected by allergy season.

I cannot express enough just how unfunny and uninspired this shitty Speilberg wannabe hunk of shit is. Replacing bold social satire, dark humor and genre innovation with claptrap kid’s movie nonsense  is a disgrace to the former film. It’s pointless, dull and only succeeds in being exceedingly forgettable. This series is, as of 2013, five films long and every single sequel manages to completely miss the point of what made the original so special. I understand that ROTLDp2 has a kind of cult following, but for the life of me, I cannot find a single person who genuinely likes this movie. If you do, I would honestly love to hear what it’s appeal is because I just can’t figure it out.

The acting is serviceable (Everyone, scream a lot! Little kid, say something sarcastic and obvious that sounds like a screenwriter wrote it as opposed to a child speaking naturally!) , the punk soundtrack and excellent score has been replaced by bargain basement hair metal and a score that would not be out of place in a Woody Woodpecker short, the set pieces are fittingly cheesy and crafted to be as comical and none threatening as possible, and the film and the story itself are lacking any teeth whatsoever which is truly saddening when considering the source material.  At the end of the day, trying to follow up “The Return of the Living Dead” with a worthy sequel is a fool’s errand. Still, to see it spawn something so half hearted, unimaginative and shockingly boring really left this fan of Trash Cinema feeling disappointed and frustrated.

Life Imitates Art: I made this exact same gesture to the television screen as soon as "Return of the Living Dead Part 2" ended!  Woooooah...

Life Imitates Art: I made this exact same gesture to the television screen as soon as “Return of the Living Dead Part 2” ended! Woooooah…

If “The Return of the Living Dead” is lightening in a bottle,   “Return of the Living Dead Part 2” is more like poop in your pants.

I give this shit smear 1/2 out of Five Dumpster Nuggets.  Approach with caution.

Stay Trashy!

-Root

15
Sep
13

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation (1994)

Texas-Chainsaw-Massacre-The-Next-Generation-1994

a Primal Root written review

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre family dynamic has certainly changed over the years and decades since they first made their teenager  barbecuing debut back in Tobe Hooper’s 1974 cinematic milestone.  They were originally a disorganized banned of blood thirsty, cannibalistic psychopaths trying to stay alive after being put out of jobs over at the slaughterhouse. In Hooper’s 1986 sequel “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre part 2” the clan had adjusted to Reagan era politics, yuppie America and capitalism and even managed to run their own award winning barbecue catering company. By 19990’s “Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre part III” they had gone back to the part of Texas that looks like Los Angeles where the family looks to be expanding a bit and then, by the mid 90’s, Kim Henkel, the was part of the creative force behind the original, steps forward with possibly the strangest and most loathed entry in the entire franchise.

The movie centers on a young, bespectacled girl named Jenny (Bridget Jones herself, Renee Zellweger) who meet as she is getting ready for prom night before being unceremoniously assaulted and nearly raped by her Stepfather. This is in the first five minutes of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation and we never see Jenny’s Stepfather or oblivious Mother again.  It’s an unnerving note to begin such a story on and has you feeling apprehensive from the get-go. You get that feeling this is to set up that moment where you have that revelation while Leatherface is biting some nubile teenage girl’s well manicured fingers from her hands and another family member smears shit all over his upper torso and you think to yourself, “Ya know, this family isn’t all that different from any other!” Makes you think, don’t it?

Renee Zellweger harnessing her inner Lisa Loeb.

Renee Zellweger harnessing her inner Lisa Loeb.

Well, before anyone gets the chance to twerk to “You Look Wonderful Tonight”, Jenny and three of her fellow prom goers end up lost down a backwoods dirt road after a hit and run fender bender. “People don;t know how to build roads!” one idiotic piece of chainsaw fodder declares as they motor towards their meat hook hanging destinies. Then…THEY GET IN ANOTHER WRECK! One that puts their car out of commission and leaves the driver of the other vehicle unconscious laying in the dirt. Jenny and two of her fellow airheaded teens head off into the night to find help while Jenny’s date stays behind to make sure the young man steadily bleeding to death in the mud isn’t ripped apart by voracious raccoons or something.

After a mile of walking and none stop whining, Jenny and her buddies come across the mobile home offices of Darla, who runs a construction business. She seems friendly enough and enjoys flashing her ample bosoms at anyone who throws a rock through her window (…the Hell?) and phones someone to go check on the wreck out in the middle of nowhere and give these kids a “lift.” This mysterious someone is Vilmer Slaughter, a tow truck driving, greased up lunatic with a remote controlled mechanical leg and penchant for screaming like a frat boy at the homecoming game. Vilmer is brought to life by a scene stealing and completely convincing Matthew McConaughey, and watching him play beside Zellweger it’s clear to see where the real talent in Texas resides.

Old Fashioned Texas Nostril Flare Fighting!

Old Fashioned Texas Nostril Flare Fighting!

BUT I DIGRESS! Vilmer shows up to the scene of the crash, kills the coma boy on the ground and proceeds to chase down Jenny’s lover boy and repeatedly run over him, grinding his quivering teenage corpse into bloody, raw, hamburger meat beneath his Goodyears while listening to 90’s “Alternative” rock on the tape deck and howling like a hyena on PCP.  Sorry, but this I fell in love with Vilmer immediately. We need to get this guy and Chop-Top from The Texas Chainsaw MAssacre part 2 together and make a sitcom.

Well, Jenny ends up walking back to the scene of the accident to meet her beau and finds a whole lot of nothing, at which point, she decides to sit in the dirt until her two other pals, who have gone off in a different direction, end up dead and her character becomes relevant again.  While she sits the next fifteen to twenty minutes of the film out, her two friends manage to make their way to the home of these lunatics and run into a camouflage wearing, mullet headed Leatherface who screams like a woman whose teacup chihuahua just got run over by a lawnmower for the majority of his screen time. It gives the impression that Leatherface is just as terrified of these kids as they are of him and, in fact, I have a feeling that might just be the case. Either that or these are psychotic screams of redneck frustration. I suppose you can draw your own conclusions.  All I know is that later, once  all the protagonist men have had their skulls bashed in and Jenny’s been thoroughly chased about the Chainsaw clan’s property and is finally tossed into the dining room in a brand new, and very sparkly, evening dress, Leatherface dresses up in drag and, dare I say it, looks rather lovely.  In brain damaged, blood thirsty redneck wearing a hideous female suit of skin kind of way…

"I'd fuck me."

“I’d fuck me.”

The evening devolves into a dinner scene of near epic surrealism as Vilmer continues to go nuts over his take out pizza, dry humping his sister, Darla, and pouring lighter fluid on his captives and then setting them on fire only to stomp their heads into pickled relish all over the dining room floor. And that’s the moderately normal stuff happening in this house!  The family is visited by some mysterious shadow organization manager who apparently has the Chainsaw clan on their payroll as merchants of fear. The clan is paid to pick up and terrorize unsuspecting young people and, from what I can gather, allow the leaders of this shadow group lick ever bead of sweat and smudge of filth off the captives face while showcasing their own strange abdominal mutilations. When did was this deal struck between the carnage minded Chainsaw clan and some strange Illuminati style group that secretly controls the destiny of society? I have no clue. but it is a strange and intriguing idea to stick within a damn Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie. Just don;t expect an explanation, ’cause there isn’t one coming.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation reaches it’s absurd climax as Jenny escapes with Vilmer and Leatherface in a lovely black satin robe, in hot pursuit. Jenny manages to ruin an elderly couples vacation by putting them in the middle of the action and the chase is cut short by a crop dusting airplane. Yeah, if you want to see the visual representation of the term “cluster fuck” this would suffice.

Dear Ms. Zellweger, could you please wear this dress to The Oscars one year? Love, -The Primal Root

Dear Ms. Zellweger, could you please wear this dress to The Oscars one year? Love, – Root

All in all, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation was a bold attempt to do something a little different with a very stale franchise.  In their attempt to infuse the proceedings with a healthy dose of mid 1990’s alternative rock, MTV culture (every chase seen is punctuated by some shitty alt rock/grunge track) and strange conspiracy theories (The Chainsaw clan working for the government?) it feels as if this entry in the Texas Chainsaw franchise kind of get lost under the weight of it’s own absurdity. There’s no consistent tone, only one strange,m off the wall set piece after another. And, although, McConaughey does his damnedest to make this thing lively as Hell, and he does pretty much run the show in this entry even if Zellweger never rises up the remarkable level of both Marilyn Burns and Caroline Williams in the first two entries of the series, the movie itself never really takes off.  It has all the elements it needs to be a great Texas Chainsaw Massacre flick, but at some point it starts puttering and finally just stalls out and drifts into the ditch.

I give this flick TWO Dumpster Nuggets out of FIVE!

Stay Trashy!

-Root

25
Aug
13

Maximum Overdrive (1986) or How to Embrace a “Moron Movie”

maximum_overdrive_poster_01

a Primal Root written review

Ever had a really stupid idea for a story? I mean, a cool idea, but one that makes no logical sense at all? I mean, that’s kind of why story telling is so much fun. you can make up whatever you want to justify just what Hell is occurring on the page, on the screen or in your spoken word.  I know, the law of the land says everything’s gotta make sense, that things have to be believable, but sometimes that stupid, amateur, childish, imaginative idea is just too good to restrain. Enter Stephen King’s one and only directorial effort, his self proclaimed “moron movie”, 1986’s critically bashed “Maximum Overdrive.”

“Maximum Overdrive” tells the story of worldwide horror primarily through the microcosm of one filthy, small, interstate truck stop. What’s the global crisis at hand? I’m thrilled you asked! See, the entire world is caught in the tail of some kind of comet that apparently has the power to bring every single machine to vicious, murderous life! Well, with the exception of any piece of equipment required for the main character’s survival…But still, most;y every single damned machine on God’s green Earth is suddenly out for blood! Everything from steam roller crushing Little Leaguers to electric carving knives ripping up hapless waitresses arms! It’s survival of the fittest as the patrons and staff of The Dixie-Boy Truck Stop are besieged by an onslaught of malicious semi-trucks. What do these trucks want? Why are they here? Home many people are going to end up being crunched into human hamburger? All these questions are asked as the blood and bodies fly to a fucking badass AC/DC soundtrack.

James Franco is going to play me in Spider-Man 3? Okay, time to wipe out the human race.

James Franco is going to play me in Spider-Man 3? Okay, time to wipe out the human race.

Stephen King helmed his directorial debut in 1986, right the the peak of his 1980’s popularity, and the critics were chomping at the bit to rip the much beloved horror writer a new asshole. “Maximum Overdrive” provided the perfect opportunity. It’s ridiculous, over the top, gratuitous and deeply, unapologetically dumb. It’s a movie where lawnmowers come to life and chase little kids and soda machines pummel people into bloody pulps, we’re not talking about sophisticated cinema here. One thing I think the critics failed to understand is just how much fun 97 minutes of unabashed mayhem, dopey characters and brain dead dialog can be.

Got coke?

Got coke?

Starring at the time up-and-comer Emilio Estevez, as Bill, a recent parolee employed at The Dixie-Boy Truck Stop and trying to make good all while putting up with his asshole boss/slave driver, Bubba (Pat Hingle) and making love like a hero.  Bill’s situation is pretty shitty…and then machines all of a sudden inherit the Earth, giving the young man the chance to take charge and show just what he’s capable of. Not only that, but he ends up getting stuck in The Dixie-Boy with the lovely Brett (Laura Harrington), an enigmatic tough girl hitch hiker who ends up bedding the sun kissed, perpetually sweaty and over worked Bill and espousing some of the most laughably awkward pillow talk ever heard in cinema all while skull crushing semi-trucks encircle their truck stop hide out and the threat of eminent flattening hangs over everyone’s head.

It’s the ultimate blue collar, underdog, greasy low life action/horror movie as e are asked to root for a batch of characters who would typically be banished to the sidelines in bigger budget apocalypse films. These are not scientists or well worn marines, these are just a bunch of dumb, greasy, rednecks trying to get out of a perilously tough situation and survive.  This, of course, is not your typical end of the world movie scenario. But you know what, it’s about time we got to see a story like this told through the eyes of the average grease monkey. It’s I really love about this flick,

Looks like you were right, that zit was ready to pop.

Looks like you were right, that zit was ready to pop.

In the end, “Maximum Overdrive” is a fuck-all, go for broke, mean as Hell, shit kicker of a film.  Like the goblin faces semi-truck villainous star of the film, it’s completely mindless but dead set on rocking your world.  Stephen King has apologized repeatedly for this tremendous piece of Trash Cinema, and even admitted to the whole film being made in a cocaine fueled haze, but if you ask me it’s really a shame the guy hasn’t gotten back behind the camera. I sure would be curious to see what King would follow this flick up with…  “Maximum Overdrive” is a damn fine and fun piece of B-Movie entertainment. If you don’t take yourself or the premise too seriously, I defy you not to enjoy yourself laughing with or at the movie as it unfolds it’s one of a kind sci-fi/horror/ action yarn about a goofy batch of truckers and yokels duking it  out and fighting for their lives against a world gone mad as machines try to rip their insides out.

“Maximum Overdrive” might not be a classic by the standards of most, but here at The Trash Cinema Collective, it sure as Hell is. Be sure to check this one out, preferably with a cooler full of beer and a handful of pals to share the magic with.

3 1/2 Dumpster nuggets out of 5!

Maximum Overdrive Heavy

See you at The Dixie-Boy SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 7th for Trash Cinema Nights at Bird’s Aphrodisiac Oyster Shack as we will be screening both “Maximum Overdrive” and “Heavy Metal Parking Lot” back to back starting at 8pm!  Hope to see you there, Gang!  Bird’s Aphrodisiac Oyster shack is located at 325 N Bronough St  Tallahassee, FL 32301

Stay Trashy!

-Root

17
Oct
11

‘Savage Lust’ or Why you shouldn’t have Sex with Women you meet in Haunted Houses

a Primal Root written review

 savage |ˈsavij|
adjective
(of an animal or force of nature) fierce, violent, and uncontrolled : tales of a savage beast | a week of savage storms.
• cruel and vicious; aggressively hostile : they launched a savage attack on the budget.
• (chiefly in historical or literary contexts) primitive; uncivilized.
• (of a place) wild-looking and inhospitable; uncultivated.
• (of something bad or negative) very great; severe : this would deal a savage blow to the government’s fight.

lust |ləst|
noun
very strong sexual desire : he knew that his lust for her had returned.
• [in sing. ] a passionate desire for something : a lust for power.
• (usu. lusts) chiefly Theology a sensual appetite regarded as sinful : lusts of the flesh.
verb [ intrans. ]
have a very strong sexual desire for someone : he really lusted after me in those days.
• feel a strong desire for something : pregnant women lusting for pickles and ice cream.

 

Okay, so, according to the above definitions if you’ve rented and popped ‘Savage Lust’ (AKA: Deadly Manor) into your VCR and pressed play you assume you;re in for a horrific, brutal sex picture with plenty of nudity and gore to burn your dirty retinas on. And you would be partially correct in that assumption. I rented the crusty old VHS copy of  ‘Savage Lust’ from my local haunt, Video 21, and brought it on home where I gave it a spin.

Right away I was shocked to see this thing came out in the year 1990 since it looked to have the fashion sense and production value of a film shot roughly a decade earlier. Not only that, but this sucker was directed by José Ramón Larraz who helmed some pretty decent horror movies in Europe including an all time favorite of mine, the flesh filled, lesbian blood sucker epic, ‘Vampyres’ in 1975 (under the name Joseph Larraz). Which makes this one even stranger, seeing as it looks really, really, shitty. Which I ‘m not sure is due to a ridiculously low budget, filmmaker apathy towards the material or maybe both…

Anyway, the film starts off just like any old slasher flick with a group of friends heading to a secluded cabin by the lake. No, not Crystal Lake, but Lake…uh, Okapanukey? Along the way they pick up a potentially dangerous hitchhiker, get a flat tire, and encounter a goofy police officer all in the span of ten minutes. And, no, the cliches do not end there. As the sun begins to set our gang pulls over and heads into the woods where they come across an old, presumably abandoned mansion. A secluded, abandoned mansion with a wrecked car as a predominantly displayed lawn ornament, several coffins in the basement, preserved scalps in a closet, a bedroom plastered with black and white photos of a creepy nekkid lady, and the typical coffee table photo album of neatly lined up nekkid dead people.

Oddly enough, this hardly raises a red flag for any of our thirty-something year old teenage protagonists and they decide to SPEND THE NIGHT THERE. What could possibly go right?

How quaint...

But just as you begin to feel comfortable as a jaded, scene it all, horror fan the movie starts throwing curve balls. People start getting killed off in a completely random order unlike any slasher film I’ve ever watched. People you expect to be heroes are killed mid way through, folks you assume will be red herrings till the end die at the most unexpected times and this gives the film a cool effect  because you’re never, ever, really sure who is going to die and when. The beat of the typical slasher film is way off and this creates a feeling of unease and even dread in the viewer. This could be intentional or just really poorly done pacing, but in the end it works in the film’s favor.

Also, when the killer is revealed it is pretty bizarre. Is it a ghost? A creature of some sort? A deformed psychopath? Who knows? The movie keeps you wondering just what the fuck is going on up until the final reveal and explanation which I found to be somewhat unique in the realm of the slasher film. It’s an M.O.  that’s become a little customary but the dealer of death this time around doesn’t feel old and worn to death.

But what is burned into my brain is this really sleazy sex scene between one of our main fellas, whose girlfriend goes missing early on in the film and he hardly cares, and a mysterious Afroed red headed big hootered woman. It’s this strange sequence which comes out of left field and seems almost hallucinatory gratuitous, totally nekkid, bump and grind sequence is inter cut with visuals of deformed faces, busted eye balls and pulpy, freshly yanked off scalps. Now, the woman doing the bonking is not an attractive lady by any means, but she is smiling ear to ear and looks to be having a blast as she simulates getting it on with her mildly latino, chiseled beef cake fuck buddy.  It’s the stand out scene of the whole movie for me and the one I will remember whenever I think about ‘Savage Lust’. And I will think of it.

"Come on, honey, this is fine art! It will look great in the living room!"

 

The mansion itself is also one dang creepy place. It’s dank, dusty, cob webbed and that master bedroom filled with nekkid pictures is just plan disturbing. You cannot help but wonder just what kind of pervy freak lives in this place. you also cannot help but wonder WHY IN THE NAME OF SAM HELL ARE THESE KNUCKLE NOBS STAYING HERE? Man, I would take my chances against the elements in the woods rather than stay in a house with a collection still drippy scalps and a moist, stinky, made bed ready to be slept in by the person who obviously still inhabits the place!I’d much rather risk dying of exposure than worry about those home owners showing up.

‘Savage Lust’ is far from a good movie. No, it’s complete trash. It looks like the film was dipped in beef gravy before being transfered to VHS, the acting is middle school drama department level and the effects are ridiculous. But the film still manages to be a bit creepy and even pulls off something few slasher films ever did after 1984, surprise the viewer!

Maybe I am being overly kind to ‘Savage Lust’ by saying it pulls off a few unexpected treats here and there but I found myself enjoying this little dumpster nugget. It’s so awkward and dodgy that it ended up endearing itself to this sick, disturbed, trash cinema collector’s heart.

I would only recommend ‘Savage Lust’ to those of you who are truly devoted to the art of sleaze and horror hand dipped in thick, nacho, cheese. It’s not a good movie. No, sir. But it’s a lost gem and a perfect example of why we love Trash Cinema.

Now if only I could work the term “Savage Lust” into some pillow talk…

Stay Trashy,

-Root

“She has a lust for life…pray it’s not yours!” Sorry, couldn’t track down a trailer.

 

02
Oct
11

Uncle Grumpy Fuck Remembers The Horrors of Spider Island

An Uncle Grumpy Fuck Recollection

Hey there folks, Uncle Grumpyfuk cumin’ right atcha 10-4 good buddies! I just got back from the local Cub Scout Jamboree, teaching those juicy young lads the safe and correct basics of leathercrafting and knot tying – valuable life-skills we adults should feel obligated to teach the young,velvet-skinned leaders of tomorrow, and as David Carradine taught us, we don’t want any embarrassing little accidents happening,no sir Grasshopper! The boys were great, their minds (and bottoms,heh!) are just like sponges at that age, just ready to soak up anything you throw at or on them! Mercy!
Well folks today we’re going to review an arousing little piece of horrific splendor entitled “The Horrors of Spider Island” or “How the Swiss Family Robinson Should Have Gone!”.
We begin with a righteous set of wheels pulling up to a building and a well-dressed couple gets out,the tension makes “Henry Portrait of a Serial Killer” feel like “Mary Poppins”,shit! The bright sunny afternoon and open air add to the ominous pall that creeps into our souls and private parts. We quickly gather that ‘Gary’, a twinkle-toed Italian guy with impressive man-boobs, and Georgia, a woman with less than impressive woman-boobs are two agents contracted by Zepo Marx to secretly hire a troupe of transvestites for a dancing tour of Singapore to contract the deadly Unmellow-yellow Mono-gono-rhea and return home to infect the unsuspecting American public. I know,I know, I wish I’d thought of it too but we gotta give credit where credit’s due, sigh…
We’re introduced,one by one to the ‘girls’ and Uncle Grumpyfuk has to admit,they look and dance even better than Rupal on muscle relaxers so ships ahoy! we can easily envision some some happy ass Singapore sailors in the near future- eight eager trannies looking good enough to where a couple of bottles of Boonesfarm and some horse tranquilizers could make for an evening of serious potential blackmail material! ..heh!…ahem…aaanyway..
The group boards a small twin-prop airplane and after taking off and traveling a good ways over the Pacific it transforms into a much larger 4-prop bomber, pretty cool I must say. They suddenly begin to take flack from a small island below,the Japs who had diligently waited for the cursed Yanks since the war began in ’43. They were right on target and the bomber takes a nosedive into the drink,exploding like Justin Beiber’s cherry at a John Waters sleep-over, and all lives are lost. …except for our entire group of she-males, their manager and his assistant, who all managed to bail with a life-raft, landing in it one by one so that they all escaped possible death and a certain wetting.
Hair implants still in place they drift for days and days thousands of miles out to sea, even though there’s a rock sticking out of the water to the right. After some unruliness on the part of a dark shaggy brute that goes by the moniker ‘Linda’, Gary is forced to establish his dominant pimp-status and, as punishment, throws all of ‘Linda’s’ amil nitrates into the water,enjoying ‘her’ wails of despair. He then has to put his foot down again and set Jersey Joe, or ‘Babs’ straight after catching ‘her’ rubbing the mouth of the water bottle on ‘her’ crusty anus for laughs. Finally submission is achieved, gotta keep those man-bitches in line yes-siree!

After many days,drifting tens of thousands of miles out to sea one of the guys spots our movies’ namesake, Spider Island…well, actually there are two islands,they don’t tell us which one is Spider Island and they don’t tell us the name of the other island, and it will haunt me ’til my dying day,what was the name of the other island?! Sand Flea Island perhaps? An island inhabited by a mad scientist and his genetically mutated, radioactive sand fleas, as big as spaniels, who he loves as his own children! … I’ll never know.

When they reach the island the ‘girls’ begin to whine and carry on like typical queens and Gary is even forced to carry one of them ashore after discovering ‘she’d ‘ taken half a bottle of Nyquil. They collapse on the beach and after a spell Gary whips them into order and marches them off to explore the island. They moan and whimper until Gary spots a condominium in the distance,orfices quiver however upon entering they find an old bondage slave trussed up like Marilyn Manson at his 10th birthday party, however this old chili-dog knave was deader than a living carbon-based life form no longer imbued with life.

The trannies bolt as one, prancing about ,hamming it up to the umpteenth degree just like real women do,while Gary and Georgia, upon closer inspection deduce that the eunuch’s master had taken things a little too far (wink!) and his heart and left testicle had simultaneously exploded. Unfortunately the cabin reeked from the old slave’s bowels releasing and Gary forces the gagging yammering fudge packers to clean things up. They submit readily enough, quietly hoping for the murderous master’s return in anticipation of a fight with Gary for control of their leathery anal cavities, but no sign of any other people soon dampen their hopes.
After about 2 minutes a fight breaks out over someone’s mention of cellulite and those two blokes go at it like cats, woo-hoo!! I mean they even fight like women(!),slappin’ and rasslin’ about, pulling hair, damn if the ol’ pickle didn’t stiffen a tad! Gary breaks it up, showing once again who’s the boss and tells them they BOTH need to lose some weight! Ha! You ‘da man Gary!
Suffering from serious stress due to pharmaceutical withdrawal and lack of anal deposits has the group’s nerves on edge,and combined with the tropical heat they begin to disrobe. Now I gotta tell you, you’ve got to be impressed with the skills of plastic surgeons and reluctantly admire the dedication of these guys to starve themselves and keep so thin and feminine-like, the ol’ zipper is straining once again I gotta tell ya’! To add to the nuance, while this is going on some of the best soundtrack music of all time begins to play, that saxophone sounds like it’s spooging all over the front row of the audience by golly! I can’t wait ’til this comes out on cd!
Meanwhile Gary, exhausted from his busy pimp duties finds the condo owners Glock 9mm automatic,which he refers to as a revolver, ( hey, pimps don’t have to be smart just forceful right?) and takes off into the woods for a little walkabout. As he walks about he’s plagued with huge sand fleas ( yeah, uh-huh, right!)…and while he’s swatting at one on his temple, with his gun hand, he manages to decorate the surrounding foliage with small bits of skull fragments and brain matter, leaving our rugged manager a tad dazed and confused. He proceeds to wander off in search of zinc and Bob from Sesame Street, leaving the insecure girly-men alone to fend for themselves.

The next morning the guys put on their makeup, split up and search around fruitlessly (ha, get it?) for Gary who has meanwhile found his way back to the condo and unfortunately stumbles upon ‘Linda’ whom he gleefully forces to bob for river rocks, indefinitely! He then then spots Tiny Tim floating on the horizon, motioning him to come to him and wanders into the ocean never to be seen again until his next film.
The girls give up looking for Gary after a good 20 minutes of searching and after 3 more hours finally find the condo where they find the buoyant ‘Linda’ still bobbing for river rocks. They run in circles and shriek until they get tired and as they sit and continue to wail and carry on Georgia digs a deep grave in the rocky baked earth. Arnold or ‘Anne’ see his chance and stands at the edge of a cliff,  totally faking it, until the others finally notice and ‘save’ him, fawning over him and carrying him back, fucking attention whore.
Unrest follows the leaderless group and soon Jersey Joe and Murray are at it like pro rasslin divas, and they may be guys but wow it’s more stimulating than a weeks’ worth of episodes of Romper Room! Then they see Gary’s hands come through the window as he tries to snatch a tampax but he disappears as quickly as he appears.
After a few sticky weeks a pair of Mary Kay reps motor up to the island and as soon as they unload their gear the older Moe heads down the path to the local hacienda to engage the occupants to the wonders of the Suckiu Vacuum Cleaner. As soon as his partner is out of sight the younger Bobby heads through the brush to the back of the compound and waits until Moe has the owners distracted. He then plans to sneak up behind the unsuspecting patriarch and finish him off with razor wire before he even suspects his adopted children will soon be orphans once more,for a short time  anyway for then the pair plan to help themselves to the contents and occupants of the house for dining and sport (wink!). My kinda guys, eh folks?!? Yeah,ha-ha!


However just as Bobby begins to leave the boat he hears the unmistakable sound of men giggling and after climbing a slender tree trunk several times to get that ‘good feeling’ he climbs a larger tree overlooking the sunny lagoon and what do his horny eyes behold but several of our troupe of trannies splashing around in the shallows, washing the filth from their bodies and scouring the crusty scabs from their rank and pock-marked anuses with the fresh stinging salt water! Sha-wing!
Driven to near hornyological hysteria he sneaks down to the edge of the rocks where Gregory, or ‘Gladys’ has drifted away from the others. Bobby tazes him violently and while still spazzing like my neighbors cat in the bug zapper! …would probably look, you know, if it hit the bug zapper, heh…ahem, yes..anyway the other guys who only hear the commotion bolt like party-goers at Corey Haim’s most recent shindig leaving Bobby and a still twitching ‘Gladys’ alone to become acquainted with each others’ back sweat,(winky-wink!).

The guys all join up in the woods and the wetter ones begin to tell of ‘Gladys’ fate when they hear Moe coming down the trail singing that song, you know, that song …by that hot chick with the brown hair..YOU KNOW…that song!!! Shit! Anyway after capturing Moe and forcing him to lick Georgia’s still unwashed twazzer to prove he’s a friend they lead him towards the condo for humiliation games and s’mores! Bobby and a shaky ‘Gladys’ soon join the group and the party,she is on!

The guys dress up in their Singapore Island Whore hula-hoochee girl outfits and damn, the horse tranquilizers wouldn’t even be necessary! It’s a South Sea Sausage Fest, crabs for free, with raunchy saxophone lounge music and drunk swinin’ trannies, yee-haw!! Well Moe and Bobby spend the evening taking turns abusing the giggling choad worshipers purty mouths until Bobby is lured into the bush with a promise of candle waxing and crystal meth.

Unfortunately on his way to the lagoon Bobby falls to his knee- years of cheap cigarettes, rotgut island rum, stimulants, depresents and an addiction to monkey adrenal gland pancakes, courtesy of IHOP, have taken their toll and he lays projectile vomitting all of the precious alcohol and monkey glands he’d just consumed, and continues to do so until reduced to a withered corpse that bears a striking resemblance to a male Joan Rivers. Things are also not going so well back at the condo either.
After dining on lobster marinara the guys are sitting around comparing califlowers when Butcher McCree, or ‘Teena’ leaps to his feet and starts raving about fiddler crabs with Sharon Ozzborne faces and suddenly dashes out of the cabin,into the woods. The shocked group look at one another when they one by one begin to also feel a bit queasy and anti-gravitational.

Apparently the canned mushrooms that ‘Babs’ used in their meal were 2 weeks out of date and the hallucinatory effects were beginning to make themselves known…good deal!! Sadly ‘Teena’ wasn’t aware and the guys decide to try to find him before he hurts himself,it’s his turn to wash the dishes anyway! They light torches and join in pursuit of their addled member but are quickly distracted by the killer trailers produced by the torches they were all carrying. As they run in circles whirling the torches around and laughing, poor ‘Teena’ runs head on into some quicksand and hastens his demise attempting to dive for pearls. The guys laugh it up and head back to the condo,finishing the night out by tying up and buttfucking poor Moe. Then we see a ship sailing off.

The end.

Truly a great film, I was momentarily confused by the end credits,what with the womens’ names,then I thought about it, duh, stage names! Sorry folks,brain fart. Well I guess ol’ Grumpyfuk is going to jump online and check out hottrannies.com and see what there is to see! I’m used to them a bit younger,I do love my veal but we must always be open-minded and always try to experience and bugger new things in life! Ariba!
Take care folks, Uncle Grumpyfuck will be back atcha soon with another sharp and insightful critique of another golden piece of spider poop! I’m outta here!
In retrospect I guess the reason they called it Spider (singular )Island must have been because there was only one spider.

-Uncle Grumpy Fuck

18
Aug
11

Final Destination 5: Death, Still a Jerk After All These Years.

a Primal Root written review

Death in the cinema is a strange subject. On one hand it can be dealt with as something gentle, life affirming and even heroic. On the other hand…it can be cynical and used to make us laugh and/or vomit. Then there’s The Final Destination franchise…the now five sequel deep slasher franchise that cuts out the middle man by casting Death itself as the main antagonist. And let me tell you, Death is one Hell of a creative genius when a debt is owed.

If you’ve seen the first film you are already in on the basic structure of these stories. A group of cliches get together around some form of transit and end up narrowly escaping a horrific death thanks to someones psychic vision. See, the shitty part of the deal is, now Death has it out for you because it didn’t get to burn you alive or shred you into several dozen meaty chunks when it was supposed to.  This is when Death dons his little black beret, grows a hipster mustache and goatee, grabs his paint brush and gets to work crafting some of the most ridiculous/gut churning deaths it can come up with.

And for whatever reason, I cannot help coming back for more. A lot of that is due to the fact I really enjoy the first three films as excellent examples of grand guignol entertainment kept lively with a mischievous, demented penchant for black comedy and even building suspense, in some cases, as to when and how people will meet their demise which will either be brutal, shocking, hysterical or a combo punch knock out of all three.Final Destination 1-3 delivered the goods for me but the premise seemed to finally be wearing out by the time part part 4 (THE Final Chapter) was farted out into theaters under the guise of being the last installment much like Friday the 13th part 4: The Final Chapter did decades before.  They added 3D, removed any attempt to make the characters interesting or even remotely likable. But worst of all? The kills just felt dreary and uninspired which could be a result of the audience not feeling a damn thing or caring at all for the folks in peril.

And, as we all know, when money talks sequels walk, THE Final Destination turned out to not be the last stop after all! Here we are with a brand new 3D misadventure! Final Destination 5 avoids any pretense of being the final installment in this notorious horror film series and, instead, gives us a return to form from a franchise that really felt dead in the water after it’s shittacular fourth outing.

Who farted, ya'll?

Here, we are introduced to a young man who has to choose between following his culinary dreams of studying under a master chef in Paris, France or his ridiculously attractive and sweet girlfriend. First, he and his fellow coworkers and friends must survive a corporate team building retreat. They all gather on a bus and head for a rickety old suspension bridge…that’s having some work done…as dark clouds and high winds approach…and Dust in the Wind by Kansas (BRILLIANT comic timing by death.) plays on the radio. Who knew he was also a disc jockey on the side?

Anyone with even the tiniest crumb of knowledge of this series of films will know what happens next. Yes, the bridge begins falling apart. Piece by piece and our main cast is  crushed, splattered, impaled, and in possibly the most horrific death I have yet seen in this franchise, (SPOILER!!!!!) doused with a barrel full of molting tar…I’m not going to lie, I genuinely got queasy at this one. (END SPOILER!!!!!) And in this sequence, especially, you can see where that 3-D budget paid off in spades. Sail Boat shot, anyone?

Of course, the gang survives thanks to the young chef fellow’s vision and Death starts visiting them one by one to collect in it’s trademark visceral, grisly fashion. I’m going to try and avoid as many spoilers as possible, but never, ever assume you know what’s going to happen in any of these death scenarios. That fucker is a master of misdirection in this entry and most kills come right out of left field which makes the movie that much more enjoyable to experience. Many times, once you finish cringing in shared agony, you can’t help but crack up a bit in cynical laughter…I call this the America’s Funniest Home Videos principal.

Final destination 5 also features the triumphant return of one of my favorite elements of the franchise, the ever awesome Tony Todd, as William Bludworth, mortician by trade and the only person who seems to really understand the nature of Death’s “design”.  Bludworth was featured in FD 1&2, was the voice heard coming from the Satan Roller Coaster in FD3 but was totally missing from THE Final Destination. Let me tell you, having him back dropping his typical cryptic hints for those waiting on death’s arrival to decipher, is a much welcome and needed element in these films. As a sort of bystander, Bludworth is the only connection or walking dead have to the rules and laws that death goes by. Still, at this point in the series we all know no matter what rules you follow Death will get you in the end. No matter what. No one survives. Bludworth should really just be throwing his arms in the air and saying, “Man, I’m sorry, but you’re kind of fucked.”

"I'll see you soon..." - Bludworth

Another aspect of Final destination 5 that I really appreciate is that the film’s writers tried their damnedest to add some story to this thing. After THE Final Destinations lack of any kind of attempt at narrative story telling I was nervous going into Final Destination 5 expecting the same sad ride of faceless characters getting their poopers sucked out by pool drains. Instead, we are treated to a bit of a love story, an investigation and even a man trying to come to grips with the terrible hand life has dealt him and is steadily driven crazy. It’s no Citizen Kane, that’s to be understood, but I can always grin and appreciate when a screenwriter takes a tired, done to  death (excuse the pun.) premise and tries his or her best to give it something more than just the glorious blood and body parts flying at the audiences faces in the magnificent 3rd dimension!

The cast of the film is rounded out by some familiar and, dare I say, talented faces. Not only is Tonyy Todd (Candyman) in on the festivities, Emma Bell (Walking Dead), Courtney B. Vance ( from Law & Order: Criminal Intent. My favorite incarnation of the series. :D), Miles Fisher (Gods and Generals and a dead ringer for Tom Cruise) and even a few other guest appearances from past Final Destination alumni (hmmm) make the best of their time on screen and give the material more credibility than many would suggest it deserves.

In the final analysis (see what I did there?)Final Destination 5 reestablishes everything I enjoyed about the franchise in it’s early days. This is the 3-D entry that should have been. It’s an apologetically dark film laced with that same sick humor that made the original trilogy an enjoyable viewing experience. Especially with a crowd.

Final Destination 5 gives us some new twists and turns and even packs in an awesome twisted ending that’s sure to please all the old school fans and intrigue those new to the franchise.Final Destination 5 is brutal, trashy and fun and if you are a fan or someone who knows this is something they might enjoy it is definitely worth checking out in it’s 3-D format.

Could Final Destination 5 really be…A New Beginning? 😉

Stay Trashy,

-Root




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