It’s your old pal, The Primal Root, and to celebrate the holiday season I’ve decided to throw a Trashmas New Year’s Bash over at my pad and everyone is invited! That includes YOU! But beforehand we’re checking out an all time favorite Trash Cinema Slasher film from 1981 called ‘Home Sweet Home’. It’s supposedly a holiday themed horror movie, but a turkey dinner does not a holiday make, gang. In fact no one even mentions what holiday it is! From what I understand I think it’s supposed to be Thanksgiving?
I digress, get prepared for feral children, satanic electric guitar playing magical Jewish mimes, Body by Jake, body builder body glaze, sex with your pants on, spanish racial sterotypes, bribing cops with “bazooms”, roid rage, flattened grannies, disapearing balls, hostage negotiations, the missing peas and so much more! It’s The Primal Root’s Rotten Reviews Episode 27: Home Sweet Home! Gather round and share it with those you love.
Thank you for all your support and for spreading the word! See you in 2013!
The Primal Root is back and this Halloween evening he is met by a strange, silent fellow who presents him with a mysterious Halloween PArty invite…one that leads him back to the Video 21 porn closet and into a world unlike any he has ever visited before!
While there, Root takes a look at the 2006 straight to video slasher picture ‘Halloween Night’ which is about a man who suffers a deeply disturbing trauma as a child and grows up to be a psychotic killer who escapes from the mental ward and heads home to kill off a bunch of college age frat boy assholes who are throwing the worst Halloween Party you could ever imagine and featuring the worst planned prank ever conceived. But it’s okay, because 95% of the female cast gets topless. So that’s a plus.
So join The Primal Root in his latest Rotten Review Adventure into a dark kinky underworld orgy and checks out another terrible Trash Cinema classic!
WHEW! Sorry about the wait! It’s been a crazy few months since I last reported back to you with a Rotten Review. I never expected for things to get crazier than they did when I reviewed From Beyond and accidentally went dimension hopping with a tentacle sporting dominatrix chick, learning the fine art of optical cavity oral sex, battling tentacle creatures from Hell and stimulating my pineal gland…All Root ever wanted was a quiet evening behind the purple counter at Tallahassee’s last standing video rental store, Video 21.
Alas, I soon realized as I always do, there is NEVER a quiet night when there’s Trash Cinema to be watched. So, in the latest Rotten Review adventure, prompted by a strange customer clad in nothing but a chain mail banana hammock and a double bladed axe, I decided to check out an all time favorite, low rent, down and dirty, sword and sorcery, blood soaked, magic fueled, TnA heavy pieces of Trash Cinema Gold, 1983’s ‘Deathstalker’!
So come along with me and let’s check out some of our Trash cinema heritage and try to survive a little bit of spacial displacement. It’s all in a days work for The Primal Root! Prepare yourself for: Mutant Beatles, people so sweaty they look like glazed doughnuts, multiple molestations, topless large breasted sword fighting, simultaneously funny and disturbing gender bending, giant pig monsters, lots of wrastling, homoerotic overtones, hardcore parties, bloody Mortal Kombat, bitter filthy Muppets in caves and that’s just what I can think of off the top of my head as I recuperate! And what would a Trash Cinema event be if you didn’t make some new friends? And, holy cow, did I make some incredibly sexy, and brutal ones this time out!
So, without any further a due, I present to you the latest exploits of your buddy Root in The Primal Root’s Rotten Reviews Episode 25: Deathstalker!
Those who know me also know Drive-In Critic Joe Bob Briggs is pretty much my icon. My hero. The man I look up to as my role model. And those who know Joe Bob Briggs are well aware that he’s broken down the formula that makes a B-Movie worth out time. The elements are the fabled, legendary, Three B’s. That is: Blood, Breasts and Beasts. My entire life this has proven to be the key to my enjoyment of a bad movie. As long as those three ingredients are there I’m not bored.
And then I saw the recent film, “Creature”. A southern fried monster tale about a mean tempered, horny, century old alligator man who rules over a stinky, tobacco stained Louisiana swamp land looking for a place his slimy gator seed can take purchase. Lucky for him, three supernaturally idiotic marines, two of whom bring along their girlfriends and one who brings along his in heat, hooter flashing sister, have decided to head out into the swamp in search of a death trap, excuse me, I mean…tourist trap.
Who will survive and who gives a shit?
The six attractive younguns stop by a local gas station called Captain Spaulding’s Museum of Monsters and…oh shit, no, wait, it’s just called Chopper’s and is run by…Chopper played by Sid Haig. His little gas station/general store also happens to be a bit of a museum honoring the local legend…Lockjaw, the malevolent Alligator man who lives in the swamps. Anyway, Chopper tells them a little bit of the legend, gives them directions (any of this sound familiar?) and the kids head off to go die after flashing their tits and drinking some wine.
It’s a familiar set up and the whole film feels like a brain damaged cross breeding of Rob Zombie’s House of 1,000 Corpses and Adam Green’s Hatchet. I know both of those films have achieved cult status ( The former of which I can understand. The latter? Not so much…) and I am sure this horror abomination will fit snugly amongst that cannon as an interesting side note to that strange slasher fan boy genre birthed early this century.
Might as well kiss that ass goodbye...
It’s that backwoods hillbilly genre that really took off during the naughties with independent horror. From Wrong Turns, to Devil’s Rejects to Texas Chainsaw Massacre reboots, everyone was digging on uneducated, blood thirsty, backwoods, gut munchers. Hell, that resurgence took hold even before that whole Saw franchise flooded the market with torture horror. However, this trashy flick, “Creature”, pulls one aspect of these films that’s typically only touvhed upon and forces it out there into the spotlight for the audience to take a long, creeped out look at. And that element is the wonderful world of incest.
Yes, incest. I know the old southern saying, “The closer the kin, the deeper in” but this flick takes that sentiment to whole different level. Remember when I told you one of the marines brought his red headed, libido of a rabbit, sister along? Well, when her attempts at date raping one of her brother’s friend’s girlfriends doesn’t work out she finds her brother…and gives him a sloppy handjob in the middle of the swamp and then complains that he now can’t fuck her with his wet noodle. It’s awkward, to say the least and luckily Sid Haig rushes onto the scene and punches her square in the nose before things can escalate. Being an only child, I’m not sure if this is how regular brother and sisters, umm, handle one another. They never really touched on this sort of thing on Family Matters or Step by Step.
Anyway, the incestuous sister’s got a date with that wild man bachelor known as Lockjaw!
Lockjaw finds the scent of Herbal Essence hard to resist.
Yes, the eternally wet, red head, incestuous sister is pulling a double header tonight and is now bound, gagged, and ordered to fuck a giant gator man. So, bestiality is now entering the equation in “Creature. But, see, she can only bump uglies with Lockjaw once her feet are hacked off. …the Hell? If someone could explain to me why in the word that is necessary I would greatly appreciate it. I don’t know why in the world they felt the need to make the plot of this thing so damn convoluted and jam as many rules and oddly out of place plot twists as they could when none of it really goes anywhere.
It’s such a basic story. You have a Gator Man looking for love. A pack of attractive twenty-somethings, three of which possess the proper genitals, wonder into his home turf. The movie practically writes itself and would have been a riot if they had kept it simple, fast paced and FUN! Whoever wrote this thing just bogs the movie down with weird side tracks and sub plots and meaningless stretches of dialog that aren’t funny, don’t mean anything within the context of the movie and advance nothing. It’s as if they were struggling to make this thing feature length and just didn’t know what to do. The movie’s run time is 93 minutes but it feels like it goes on for over two hours as scenes drag into nothing over and over again with neither a payoff or anything that enhances the story.
Daphne and Velma share a tender moment on their latest kooky caper!
HOWEVER! The film does feature a ton of nudity! Three gratuitously displayed pairs of lovely lady breasts and even some in your face full frontal female flesh(Breasts, Buns AND BUSH! Booger would be pleased.) for the audience to ogle in the very opening of the film. This poor, totally naked woman has no lines, is completely nude and is killed and out of the movie in about 5 minutes time. I guess it’s a bad idea to go skinny dipping in a gator/rapey flesh eating Hell beast infested swamp. I am looking forward to her next project because in these 5 minutes Jennifer Lynn Warren won my heart and is one of the most memorable elements of the movie. Being naked as a jay bird certainly didn’t hurt…
The gore is a little lacking. I was expecting a bit more in a film about Lockjaw the Gator Boy who leaves a little to be desired as well. The creature effects are great and all but I couldn’t help but notice how the monster looks almost identical to the Koopa’s from the live action Super Mario Brothers movie. Yet, the fellow inside this creature suit does a great job bringing it to life and making the most of it. He possess, stalks and attacks like a pro. Sadly, we are never treated to a Lockjaw sex scene. SEE! Now that would have been entertaining! And we do get undeniable proof that such a scenario did occur at some point in the movie, but for whatever reason, we aren’t treated to that moment of pure animal-man on woman horror. Eh, maybe in the direct to video sequel starring Bill Moseley? Only time will tell.
"I Shouldn't Be Alive" New Season Begins This Fall
And they never did explain the regenerative properties of the swamp itself that a man could get shot square in the knee with a rifle then run on that leg for the next thirty minutes of the movie and not even limp. Well, maybe it’s just because he’s a marine? Either way, this might be my favorite unintentionally funny aspect of the film. How much the lead character gets shot, stabbed, and repeatedly crushed and beaten mercilessly by Lockjaw. Including one excruciatingly long slow motion sequence towards the end of the film where Lockjaw repeatedly pounds full force on the character’s sternum and ribs, and then, seconds after the attack, the character can simply get up and walk it off. I always thoroughly enjoy that sort of stupid shit in trashy films. There’s also a pretty hysterical spider attack sequence where a guy gets pounced by tarantulas and then treats the bites with…bottled water?
I just wish there had been more of that fun, dumb, stuff to tide me over in between scenes of nonsensical redneck banter, jewelry gifting, potato chip scavenging, and boyfriends getting upset because his girlfriend is getting naked in a tent and making out with another sexy woman looking to get a threesome going. Who ARE these people?
“Creature” has a whole lot of promise and I was eager to take the trip it so obviously wanted to deliver. But somewhere along the way it seems the whole thing got lost, forgot where it left it’s fun, Drive-In, B-Movie spirit and left us imagining all the awesomeness that could have been. “Creature’s” heart is in the right place and the filmmakers obviously have an affection for Trash Cinema. I mean, it was director Fred Andrews first time at bat, so I will cut him some slack. I just hope that the next film he delivers is a bit more streamlined and heavier on the sick, demented fun.
As Joe Bob might say, there’s just too much dang plot getting in the way of the story!
Stay Trashy!
-Root
And, yes, that’s Eggs from the second season of True Blood.
To be completely honest I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I sat down to watch TerrorVision, this 1986 horror flick whose VHS covered adorned just about every video store shelf when I was a kid. The artwork promised something dark and sinister…but the title? Terror-Vision? I sounded like something more akin to the 1992 John Ritter flick, ‘Stay Tuned’or Joe Dante’s trippy segment from the 1983 Twilight Zone Movie. After finally watching this sucker, it turns out, I was a lot closer to the mark than I knew.
We are introduced to The Putterman’s, your average yuppie, Reagan era family complete with Cyndy Lauper wanna teenage daughter, enthusiastic Rambo-esqu pre-teen son, and parents who are more interested in the latest technology, covering their home with erotic art and getting into the swinger trend and boasting about it proudly…in front of their children, who understandable, seem to be holding back the bile and cringing with deep mental scarring. Come on, kids, lighten up! Because being a cock-hopping swinger smack dab in the middle of the AIDS epidemic was the responsible choice many parents were making at the time…
Earthlings, what a bunch of dickweeds.
The Putterman’s are hooking up their brand new, state of the art satellite dish that can beam deep into space and broadcast all kinds of kinky, weird shit from everywhere imaginable for their viewing pleasure on their 12 inch screen television (not exaggerating.). Programs like down and dirty pornography, MTV, and, wouldn’t you know it, carnivorous monster garbage from space that oozes it’s way right out of the set and into your lap! I mean, the dish itself is the size of a Volkswagen bus and the remote is the size of an Atari 2600 game console (replete with mini satellite dish on top) so this kind of shit was bound to happen. DAMN YOU TECHNOLOGY! Bringing forth unwanted alien evil right into our living room! How topical…
This monster looks like a huge family gathering had a sloppy-joe eating contest, all got food poisoning and then vomited this monster into creating. It’s slimy, hideous, and goofy as all hell. It’s not particularly frightening until it shows off it’s Grundle-Fly eating skills. This guy shoots out it’s tongue, which resembled to arms covered in a red tarp and dipped in bacon fat, that connects with it’s meal, injects acidic digestive fluids and then slurps up the gooey remains.The monster has several variations of this eating routine, all are gross, all are messy. First we had to worry about Fox News invading the living room, now THIS SHIT!
Had to include this picture because I laughed at it so hard I farted.
Early on, The Putterman’s visiting Grandpa and lizard enthusiast (don’t ask. it bares no foreshadowing or has anything to do with the rest of the film), is attacked and turned into fuddy-duddy creamed corn right before his little grandson’s very eyes. Luckily, this grandson is packing heat, brandishing an AK-47 and plenty of grenades. The young man spends the majority of the movie trying to warn everyone from his sex crazed, ugly parents to his nimrod of a sister and her metalhead boyfriend. Even a TV horror movie host and Elvira send up called Medusa! No one wants to believe the young man…until it’s too late!
Medusa, I suppose there's no threat of me looking into her eyes when she's wearing that outfit.
TerrorVision is an excercize in camp horror that the viewer will either understand and enjoy thoroughly or be annoyed with and tune out right away. I was the oddball on the fence. This thing looks like a living cartoon. From the color scheme, to the overacting, to the concept of the movie itself. I’s almost unbearable goofy. The single thing that saves it is the films much appreciated wicked sense of humor. TerrorVision is not afraid to kill off ANYONE or go for any dark, mean spirited laugh. TerrorVision is really a one of a kind movie in a lot of ways and really throws the viewer off kilter right from the very beginning. You don’t know what to expect as the tone shifts all over the place from light to dark in the blink of an eye. I always appreciate a film that keeps me wondering just where the hell it’s taking me. TerrorVision is one of those films. However, I cannot be sure if that was intentional or not…
I’ve gotta mention that TerrorVision also needs a medal of honor for being the slimiest damn movie I have ever seen. From the characters, to the aliens, to the liquefied remains of the carpet, it’s as if everything on set has been doused with a liberal appliance of K-Y Jelly. I can;t imagine how it must have been to work on this set with your fingers constantly being lubed up as your tried to focus the camera or simply walk to craft service table…where all the food must have tasted like anal lube.
TerrorVision is not for the faint of heart and I can only recommend it to the most dedicated of Trash Cinema fans. IF you think you have to fortitude to sit through this divine, 80’s, sci-fi, horror, comedy stinker, be my guest. I’m sure you’ll be glad you tuned in. 😉
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.
Admittedly, the cheesy movie fan is kind of an oddity unto himself. Someone who won’t go see Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen because it’s a contrived multi-million dollar hunk of dog shit but will spend countless hours looking for the next “Manos”: The Hands of Fate that they can laugh their asses off at with their pals while downing some rot gut in the comfort of their own living room. Well, my fellow collectors, you will be happy to hear I have come across one of the strangest pieces of Trash I’ve ever witnessed. It’s a greasy, hairy, spandex clad monstrosity from 1984 entitled, Hard Rock Zombies.
Rocking Hard or Hardly Rocking? If we're talking about the hair then they most certainly are Rocking Hard.
Now, you can never judge a movie by its title. At first, Hard Rock Zombies sounds like it could be just fine– Zombies rising from their graves to munch on the warm, gooey flesh of the living as metal music blares over the soundtrack and the arterial spray spatters against the wall. Alas, no dice. Instead we get a hairy, sleazy quartet of rockers lead by the mustachioed lead vocalist and guitarist, Jessie. They play nightly to crowds of about a dozen or so young women decked out in their leopard print spandex and requiring a cheering track as they couldn’t quite work up the excitement to cheer while they were actually on camera at the concert.
This young lady immediatley contracted a venereal disease upon having her breasts signed by Jesse.
Once their introductory concert is over and the audience endures a scene where they all hang around in their tight little underwear and fiddle around with their junk, they head out for their next scheduled concert in a town by the name of Grand Guignol (SUBTLE!!), a small town Jessie has been warned to stay away from by a young pre-teen girl named Cassie. The warning goes unheeded and as the band rides off in their van while chanting a tune that will raise the dead (Jessie read about it in a “book”) they pick up a scrawny blonde hitch-hiker chick who invites them to stay at her family’s mansion.
'Don't be so quick to judge' might be the message of Hard Rock Zombies. After all, this...being could just be bringing us cookies and rainbows! Nope, just a tack hammer to bludgeon us to death.
Just wait till you meet this bunch. One-eyed midgets, wheelchair bound werewolf grannies, bald-headed blood spattered chicken slayers and even a retired 90-something year old Adolf Hitler who bangs werewolf lady at night with an audience of midgets he calls his grandchildren. And you say that the Sawyer clan from Texas ChainsawMassacre had awkward family get-togethers! Needless to say, the band sees nothing wrong here, and is even mildly charmed. Upon arrival and hearing constant screams of agony coming from the mansion the band’s keyboardist sheepishly asks the little blond minx, “Um, excuse me. I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s with all the screaming?” Were people just more accepting of this kind of behavior in the 80’s? I suppose this was post-Manson pre-Waco America. Still, no red flags go up? Not one?
As the band hypes the town up over the impending HARD ROCKING by way of a dancing montage where the band members hop, skip, jump and mime (yes, mime), Jessie spots Cassie again and chases her across town. Over the course of the film, Jessie falls madly in love with this 16-year old girl. So much so he writes a tender yet shitty love ballad just for her. His love is so passionate it is already penned and rehearsed to perfection by the band.
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And so, night falls as the band recuperates from a painful but not fatal electrocution at the Freak residence. And it is them after much anticipation, the Freak family ACTUALLY decides to kill the band! This had me cheering in my living room as one by one these hair band rejects get slaughtered in very cheap and awkward ways. The keyboardist and bassist get murdered by werewolf granny, who regains the power to walk when she puts on her wolf mask. Um, Jessie gets crucified on an oak tree and then receives a weed whacker to the chest and the drummer gets it while naked in the shower with the blond hitcher as they try to recreate the legendary scene from Psycho.
I wonder if Alfred Hitchcock was flattered by this far more genital heavy homage to his now legendary scene?
Halfway through the running time and we’re one step closer to actually having some zombies show up now that the entire band is murdered. The small town residents bury the guys a foot or two deep in the front yard of Freak Manor and call it a day. Cassie has a harder time letting go. She sits beside Jessie’s grave and plays her favorite cassette tape of theirs that just so happens to feature… the same REANIMATION ROCK we heard them playing in the van earlier! The four fellows rise from their graves to march around town doing some strange dance before getting their vengeance against the Freaks who killed them.
Oddly enough, our story doesn’t end there. Before you can say “This movie is retarded” those killed by the band rise up from the dead to begin killing anew. That’s right. Zombie Hitler, Werewolf granny, zombie midgets and ever a zombie interpretive dancer! They are all back to tear about the quaint little town of Grand Guignol to pieces.
Will the band impress the big wig record executive now that they are dead? Can Grand Guignol be saved from the zombie apocalypse? Will the band ever be able to convincingly fake-play their instruments? Will there be any explanation as to why the midget zombie has decided to ride a cow? Will any of the severed head jokes make me laugh? Will Hitler’s gas chamber in the Cave of Death come in handy? You’ll just have to check this puppy out to see!
The grave diggers must have anticipated their reanimation since they just threw dirt ontop of the band rather than burying them. Good thinking! That saves time.
In all honesty, probably the only truly disturbing aspect of the entire film is Jessie’s strange lusting for Cassie. The 12 year old girl. The man writes songs about her. He runs after her as she flees. He even corners her to give her a sentimental ring which seems to win her over. There’s even a fantastic fantasy sequence that takes place towards the end of the film as the now zombified band rocks out their brand new Monster Ballad “Cassie” where Jessie sees himself running to embrace his little girl love in a secluded area of the woods while he is decked out in a white leisure suite and a matching ascot. This can only be the sexual fantasy of a mustachioed pedophile with a rotting brain and a taste for the tacky. That sequence was the one that elicited a serious reaction from me, a strange combination of nervous laughter and stomach churning.
Jesse, and his not yet legal love interest, Cassie.
The film reaches a climax as the town folks realize the only way to appease the zombie is to let them gang bang a virgin girl to death. AND THE TOWN FOLKS ARE COOL WITH THIS! They find this information in some random book (probably the same one Jessie got the Raise the Dead song from) and decide it’s time to sacrifice Cassie’s sweet, virginal love outlet to the hordes of the undead who probably can’t get it up anyway.
I mean, kudos for originality, but I have a feeling there was some creative force on this project who liked the prospect of a very young girl getting fiddled with a bit too much. The film already makes one feel dirty while watching it simply due to the production values but the added bonus of this strange Lolita complex makes me want to incinerate my clothes and take a scalding hot bath while trying to scrub away the stain on my soul with a Brill-O Pad and AJAX.
You know who else enjoyed rising from the dead to eat living flesh...
Hard Rock Zombies is a one of a kind film and is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, and hopefully, you will ever see again. It’s awkward, bargain basement schlock that is hard to really get a grip on because there’s just so much zany shit going on in every dang scene! People running around with giant pictures of faces to avoid zombie attacks, people fondling dead women’s breasts, old men ascending to heaven after providing exposition, men parading around in tightey whiteys! It must be seen to be believed, and even then, you may not be able to wrap your mind around it.
This was my expression as I sat through Hard Rock Zombies.
In the pantheon of zombie cinema, Hard Rock Zombies undoubtedly is among the very worst. The scummy film at the very bottom of the Trash Cinema dumpster. But no viewer can deny its gonzo kind of creativity and originality. I mean, it didn’t transform into anything good. But, for those of us who find the appeal in the trashiest of bad movies, these are the flicks we are looking for. We’re not looking for something “good.” We’re looking for the forgotten. The oddities. The films everyone else threw away and banished to obscurity decades earlier. And for those of us who make up The Collective we find the beauty in such trash. And that’s what always keeps us searching and, in the end, always coming back for more.
I’ve been asked by quite a few of our fellow Trash Collectors what my favorite Trash Cinema Classic is. Many assume it would be a popular favorite like the recently embraced Troll 2 or the break out craptastic hit, The Room. Is it a big budget bomb the likes of Howard the Duck? A filthy, pervy hunk of garbage like Showgirls? Or possibly an exploitation sleaze fest like Pieces?
Now, the above mentioned films and their ilk all hold a special place in my heart and have their own trashy merit. My favorite is still slowly and steadily being discovered. You know the term, “So bad, it’s good”? Yeah, that doesn’t even begin to describe my all time favorite Trash Cinema film, Samurai Cop. A no budget, shoddily made piece of action goofiness that surpasses the “So Bad, it’s good” genre and manages to ascend to a higher plain of cheese entertainment. It find brilliance in it’s mental deficiencies. Strength in it’s countless weaknesses. Panache in the poorest performances. Samurai Cop is…remarkable crap.
In all honesty, Samurai Cop is a film that has to be seen in it’s entirety to be believed. Lucky for you it is available on DVD for super cheap and even includes a hysterical audio commentary track from legendary Drive-In Movie Critic and my personal hero, Joe Bob Briggs which enhances the viewing experience.
However, I have put together a list of six ESSENTIAL clips from the classic action film, Samurai Cop. It’s incredibly difficult to narrow it down to six scenes in a film crammed full of beautiful trashy gems. Really, on a scene by scene basis the amount of ridiculously awesome shit just keeps pouring from the screen. So I did my best to put together these six scenes that I feel define the movie, Samurai Cop. Enjoy!
6. Samurai Cop calls Fujiyama out!
Our hero Joe (Samurai Cop) along with his partner Frank show up unannounced at evil be-mulleted mob boss Fukiyama’s luncheon he has thrown for all his evil henchmen. The scene is incredibly tense and in a barn burner of a scene, Samurai Cop unleashes a powerfully performed cautionary monologue about what America is all about. Prepare to be shaken to your very core.
5. The Black Gift
Samurai Cop may be the star of this film but the man who steals the show is his side kick, Frank. The man has a knack for simply rocking every scene he is in with his natural delivery and ever present sense of humor. At this point in the films Fujiyama has sent out his goons to kill off all the law enforcement officials involved with the investigation into his crime syndicate. Two of these henchmen make their way into Frank’s home just after the man has taken a shower. What truly makes this scene special is how the henchmen threaten Frank, the colorful choice of words and the awkward blocking. Simply, incredible.
4. The Opening Chase Climax and Sex Scene with Peggy (AKA: Keeping it Warm and Ready)
Now, anyone who knows their action movies will tell you any action film must be judged by how badass their opening chase sequence is. Samurai Cop has possibly the funniest, fastest most carnage filled opening car chase battle ever committed to film. I am serious, it has every cliche in the book as Samurai Cop and Frank drive from a busy marina, through the suburbs and onto a dirt road through the mountains after some drug dealers shooting at random as innocent civilians duck for cover and bad guys fling themselves out of the van as they die. But the scene reaches it’s apex as our our heros gun down the last man standing, and what goes down directly afterward (before they bother to report back to the chief) with police helicopter officer, Peggy.
3. The Color of Your Ass
Again, Frank is here to save the day as he and Samurai Cop regroup after a horrific stand-ff between themselves and Yamashita’s (Robert Z’Dar’s) henchmen. They dust themselves off and make an ass joke and move on with their investigation.
2. Feminine Costa Rican Waiter & Suicide
Samurai Cop was written and directed by a fellow named Amir Shervan. If you haven’t noticed already, this guy has a peculiar sense of humor. Never is it more apparent than in this scene that springs up out of nowhere between Samurai Cop, Frank and a Costa Rican waiter.
1. Circumcision, Jumbo Jets and the Majesty of Frank
If there is only one scene every must witness from Samurai Cop this is the one. This is the moment where everything falls into place and illustrates just why this film is at the very top of my Trash Cinema pile. I don’t want to ruin a thing for you. Just watch this scene and be amazed.
Like I said earlier, these are just some of my favorite scenes out of a film bursting with great moments just like the ones posted above. By all means, track this classic down and give it a watch. I promise, you will laugh yourself silly. Everyone plays it straight and I really think they all felt like they were making a serious action movie. The finished product comes off as one of the greatest 80’s action parodies ever produced.
So do yourselves a favor. Watch Samurai Cop. And keep it warm and ready in case I decide to drop by later.
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.
trashcinemacollective.com 