Horror In Review

Here is where you'll find horror movie reviews, past and present. More are added almost everyday because clearly the world needs more horror...


THE BUTCHER
(Palisades Tartan/2007)
Stars: A chainsaw, screaming victims
Rating: 1/2

Victims tied up in a dirty warehouse awaiting a gruesome, violent death while a snuff film producer maps out his camera angles. Just another day at the office. Each victim has a video camera strapped to his/her head so that footage from the killings can be used in the final cut. Do the victims get camera credits? Nope. I feel this is entirely unfair.

A killer wearing a real pig’s head over the top of his real head has a chainsaw, hammer and a massively blood-stained apron. I don’t care how many times you wash that thing, you’re not gonna be able to get it 100% clean.

A man and his wife are dragged in for their scene, a hammer to the head to calm them down. The film director calmly talks to them before Pig Head has a less-than-romantic scene with the back of the male victim’s swimsuit area. (They’re gonna have to give the film an R-rating for that one.) His fingers are then removed by way of the chainsaw.

Begging for his wife’s life, the film director tells him if he can come up with fresh ideas for killing his spouse, then he can go free. It takes all of two seconds for the brainstorming to kick in, with the guy selling out his spouse with ridiculously nasty ideas on how to kill her. The director likes where his head is at and frees him, leaving the wife screaming in accompaniment to the musical chainsaw. Camera still attached to his head, he stumbles out into the bright sunshine, finds his car and drives away.

It’s nice that such a pointless and sickeningly violent film can end on such a happy note. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


ASYLUM
(MGM/2008)
Stars: Sarah Roemer, Jake Muxworthy
Rating: ★1/2
The Richard Miller University got an upgrade: the insane asylum ward, shut down for years, has been renovated and re-opened as a dorm for freshman arriving at college. (Oh, I’m sorry -- did I just yawn?)

It was in this asylum Dr. Burke performed experimental lobotomies on his teenage patients. Then his patients ran out of patience and wrapped him in barb-wire and subsequently made him the exact opposite of healthy. Not sure how, but Burke is back to continue his work. (Oops -- another yawn.)

Playing out almost exactly like Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors, each student dies according to his or her dark past. For the muscle-bound jock, it’s being fat. For a cold hottie it’s being beaten by her boyfriend. (For me it’d be swimming in a lake of Budweiser™ -- without fashionable swim trunks.) Burke, cracking jokes (but not as good as Freddy Krueger) transports his victims into the scene of their fear.

You seen it all before, you’ve heard it all before. Burke looks like a Rent-A-Center™ version of a Cenobite with the bondage leather and barb-wire shirt, but he has neither the wit nor style to carry it off. Once impaled by his own lobotomy picks, black stuff leaks out and all the souls he’s collected over the years float away like hot-air victims. I have GOT to stop yawning as it’s so rude. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


RED MIST
(Anchor Bay/2009)
Stars: Arielle Kebbel, Andrew Lee Potts
Rating: ★★

This one was originally called Freakdog. That’s in reference to a mentally-stunted janitor guy who works at a hospital and self-mutilates while taking pictures of naked corpses instead of mopping up guts like he should be.

Fixating on one of the supermodel medical students, he follows her to a club where the other med students are socially relaxing with booze and drugs. They ridicule him and call him the original movie title and he threatens to bust them for pilfering the hospital’s stash. Oh, no -- this could ruin all their careers and get them cut off from mom and dad’s credit cards. So no choice but to let him party with them. But first a little mood enhancer: drugs mixed with alcohol.

Goading him into shotgunning the lethal mixture, he goes into a spastic coma. In order to save their medical paychecks, they dump him outside the hospital and run away. Whew-- all’s well that ends well and, uh, oh... He can’t be revived so they’re gonna pull the plug. If you have overwhelming feelings of guilt and remorse, now would be the time to use ’em.

The supermodel does a load of homework and discovers a highly experimental drug combination that might revive him. It works. Kinda. Hopped up on goofers, the guy’s soul can leave his body and take over anyone else. NOW the party can resume. Each of the med students meets an appropriate payback, with one getting hydrochloric acid poured down his throat, which melts off most of his face. Eeww!

The supermodel, using all her parent’s-paid education to solve the mystery killings, concludes that it’s the janitor doing the clean up outside of his body. The cops will certainly believe that, won’t they? Framed for the murders, she has nothing to lose by pulling the guy’s life-support plug. That should be the end of it, but the prognosis is sequel.

The graphic gore is suggested and not shown, which I feel is a mistake, because when you boil it all down, Red Mist is just another back-from-the-dead revenge flick. And there are, like, eight million of those. For a better medical horror movie, try Dr. Butcher, M.D. It’s what I prescribe. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


LAKE DEAD
(Lionsgate/2007)
Stars: Kelsey Wedeen, Kelsey Crane
Rating: ★★

Inheriting a rural motel from a grandfather who they were told died when they were kids, two centerfold sisters, their aftershave model boyfriends and a freelance slut get in an RV to head up to The Lake Motel to check things out and to see if they can sell it and go shopping. Prior to that, an adopted power slut sister whose language skills are limited to the “F” word, decides not to go, but is brutally skewered through the ankles, driven to the lake where the hotel is, attached to a cement block, and tossed into the drink.

Before the slaughter begins for everyone else, the happy-for-now group goes swimming right where the water-logged sister is and barely miss discovering her. Nice, but this whole sequence seemed pointless. Two mutant axe swingers take out two of the party (hanging, axe to the face, corpse romance). A cop comes by and as it turns out, he’s part of a much more grim scenario. Seems the Lake Family are all inbreds, the point being to keep the bloodline pure. The two sisters happen to be related as their dad escaped the genetic sewer years ago and fathered the girls with someone who hadn’t slept with any family members. A rare find. The plan is to have uncle cop and the two mutant brothers breed with the girls, like they did with mom back in the good ’ol days.

The surviving boyfriend thinks all of this is distasteful, so he puts up a fight and actually manages to kill one of the mutants. (This reminds one of that X-Files episode about that family of inbreds who keep killing people who come to close to their love secret.) Yeah, things get a bit intense as the boyfriend has to find his girlfriend before the uncle knocks her up in the barn where he had his first romantic interlude with mom all those years ago.

Overall, Lake Dead seemed like another “killer on the loose stalking teens” movie, although to its credit, a bit more thought out. And mom? That “Sixty ’n Sexy” love machine sucks on the end of a rifle. Let’s just say she’s really good at that sort of thing as she’s had lots of practice with her boys. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


PHONE
(Buena Vista/2004)
Stars: Ji-won Ha, Yu-mi Kim
Rating: ★★

A young, fashion catalog attractive female reporter has been relentlessly reporting on a kiddie sex scandal, and the person behind it all is filled with unhappiness. So he calls her cell phone over and over, stalking the stinkin’ heck outta her. She changes her cell phone number to that of a haunted one and moves into the unfinished house of a friend to whom she donated her farm fresh female eggs to so the woman could get pregnant and get her family started. Throw in a psychotically teetering high school girl and a three-year-old girl who gets possessed and you’re laying on the couch in your presumed-cleaned underwear wondering how is this gonna fit together.

The little girl didn’t get possessed until she answered the reporter girl’s phone. A screeching voice/signal got into her head and turned her into the cutest little devil... I say that in jest as Yeong-ju will goon you out good when she goes into her possession bit.

Doing research on the haunted cell phone, the reporter discovers it was previously owned by two people who ended up killing themselves -- and not because of telemarketer calls at all hours. It takes a while, but the pieces start falling in place, with the mom finding out about an affair her husband is having with the high school girl. Yep, the impressionable gal got knocked up and not only won’t abort, but wants the mom to get a divorce so she can be in the family. Didn’t see that one coming.

The horrific part finally happens here (have patience). Someone gets killed and accidentally walled up in the unfinished house. That someone is the same someone possessing Yeong-ju. And making eerie e-mails pop up on the computer. And calling the cell phone over and over. The hair of that someone kept growing after the head died, so there’s about twelve feet of black stringy stuff growing out of the electrical outlets. I’m no plumber, but that could be a fire hazard.

Phone is a layered, complex love mess with supernatural overtones and pretzel plot twists. But if you can wait out the blah, blah, blah, the end is creep-o-rama. FYI: Yeong-ju made all those demon faces on her own without make-up or a mask. Can’t wait to see what she does for an encore when she turns four. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN
(Troma Entertainment/1971)
Stars: Dracula, Frankenstein
Rating: ★

Not since Peanut Butter vs. Jelly has there been a great mash-up as this. Sort of. This Dracula is Jewish with Brady Bunch hair, a moustache and goatee, gold disco chains, black cape and a voice that sounds like it’s echoing through an empty can of Folgers™. And not one that housed dark coffee crystals, either. While being driven around in a car he says stuff like, “I am known as the Count of Darkness, the Lord of the Manor of Corpathia -- turn left.” Frankenstein’s face looks like half mashed potatoes left in the fridge for not less than two weeks.

Dracula’s street name is Zandor Vorkov. He promises a handicapped carnival descendant of Dr. Frankenstein immortality in return for the resurrected monster. The mad scientist, whose helper is a mute Lon Chaney making “I just pooped my pants” facial expressions, has been experimenting on young girls whose heads are chopped off with an axe and then reattached. Just like plugging in a toaster.

The show-girl sister of a head-chopped girl arrives from Vegas to find out what’s going on. She has a huge rack but can’t sing a note. And yet they showed people enjoying her performance and even clapping. What passes for Sin City entertainment these days.

She meets a handsome beach bum guy who lives in Malibu and talks hippie nonsense about “groovin’” and “that’s my bag.” Nice guy, but he needs to shut the hell up. No one should care about this as we wanna see D-cula and F-stein rumble. Dracula uses his magic ring to turn the hippie beatnik into a campfire. Then he goes after the girl. But Frankenstein has grown accustomed to her rack and as Dracula goes to suck on her, Frank intercedes and the promised battle begins.

The fight spills outside in the woods where Dracula easily rips off both Frankenstein’s arms. Then his head. (In all fairness, they weren’t attached that well to begin with.) But Frank’s strategy worked -- the sun is coming up and Dracula is unable to get back to his coffin or bottle of sunblock. And the big-racked girl? Back to Vegas for some real entertainment. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


ZOMBIE NIGHTMARE
(New World Pictures/1986)
Stars: Adam West, Tia Carrere
Rating: ★

It’s a good thing that mother of a freshly dead teenage son lives next door to a voodoo priestess in the Canadian lower middle-class suburb. Calling on a favor (outlined in the opening sequence), mom begs the witch queen to bring her son back.

Resurrected, the boy rises from the dead, his face rotting by the second, and goes after the carload of heavy metal teens who ran him down with their smooth jazz Volvo. To exact his revenge he carries a baseball bat. Most zombies do, or weren’t you aware? After each non-explicit kill he returns to the coffin to await another shot at bat. And every time he “comes back” his hair gets shorter and his face gets more freshness-expired.

The local police chief (played by Adam West, i.e., Batman) is trying to throw his new detective off the trail of the murders because seventeen years ago Batman did something not quite legal involving a knife and a stomach. Logically-ish, it ties to the priestess, the mom and the zombie kid. Now the neighborhood has been turned into a “kill-de-sac.” (Heh.)

Voodoo neighbor still has some revenge to get off her books, so she commands the zombie to go after Batman. (Wouldn’t have worked on Superman.) Dragging him into the ground where flashing red lights and smoke are pouring out, he begs for the younger cop to kill him before being pulled down under to Smoking Flashing Red Light Hole. Why waste a bullet? He had it coming. Wretched are the special effects and teenspeak.

With no explicit gore to speak of, I cannot in good faith recommend this movie. But I heartily endorse heavy metal in all its forms. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


MONSTER X STRIKES BACK: ATTACK THE G8 SUMMIT
(Tokyo Shock/2009)
Stars: Guilala, Take-Majin
Rating: ★1/2

A comedic homage to Japanese giant rubber monsters, though I fail to see the point about making fun of giant rubber monsters. I’m thinkin’ oxymoron. Nevertheless, world leaders have gathered for another windbag summit, right about the time Guilala, a giant creature with some Godzilla pointy things on his back, a horizontal flat face a horn and two perfectly straight antennae that probably gets all the channels, shows up to crash the party. The monster was brought back from outer space as spore and, when exposed to Earth’s atmosphere, grew into the mega-tall dumbass he is today.

The G8 Summit leaders decide to help Japan from becoming a demolition derby. (Even though the world leaders all speak their native tongues, each is able to understand and converse fluently with one another. I guess that’s why we hired ’em.) Japan fails with their skills of controlling magma and earthquakes. Russia fails with Polonium 20, a poison so strong, it can kill anything. Don’t know what Russia’s head czar was thinking -- I’ve eaten sandwiches that were more toxic. England fails because, well, they’re England. (Their plan was to drop giant headphones on Guilala and pipe in thought-disrupting frequencies. In the States we call that heavy metal.) Then someone gets a bright idea to cover Guilala in a huge sheet of Saran Wrap™ and pump pink-colored gas into his lungs. The monster thinks their attempts are hysterical and laughs out loud.

Time to call out the nuclear warhead, which might kill Guilala or might not. But everyone’s fresh outta ideas. Fortunately, the villagers nearby do a song and dance routine to invoke the mighty Lord Take-Majin, a multi-armed golden deity who grows from a small statue holding a fire extinguisher and an umbrella, to equal size and weight of his opponent. Take-Majin appears right as the nuke arrives -- and sticks right in his golden butt. A momentary distraction as Take-Majin, um, sucks the missile all the way in and farts. I’m not making this up. Guilala gets in a few good pops before Take-Majin cuts his head off as though it were a pimento loaf.

Japan is safe once again from itself. There’s some other stuff going on involving a supermodel news reporter, a mad scientist with a gang of giggling supermodels called the Pleasure Squad. But don’t let yourself get distracted or you won’t be able to appreciate the subtle nuances of Guilala’s ping-pong ball antennae. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


THE THAW
(Ghosthouse Underground/2009)
Stars: Val Kilmer, Martha MacIsaac
Rating: ★★1/2

Thank you global warming for wrecking our planet. And after we’ve done for you. Because of you that parasitic infested woolly mammoth has defrosted and one million (give or take) previously frozen prehistoric flesh-eating bugs have hatched and gotten into human orifices. That’s gratitude for you.

Dr. David Kruipen, an “earth-first” kind of scientist, discovered the room-temperature mammal meat and its germs and, after watching it infect it’s way through his staff out in the field, decided it probably isn’t a good idea to let said disease get back to civilization. Too bad his estranged college-aged daughter doesn’t listen to him and flies out with several grad students to study infestation up close and, for some, really personal.

Once the little buggers get under your skin, red bumps and open sores show up all over your face and stomach, you itch yourself at socially-inconvenient times, you throw up like it was your first quart of Jagermeister, you sweat on everything, then you die a horribly painful death, thereby hatching even more bugs. (Note: said crawlers look like the Motorhead version of caterpillars.)

The helicopter pilot discovers he caught the bug and in an “oh, crap” moment, has two people dope him up with morphine (standard research equipment), put a tourniquet just above the goal line, and chop off his infected arm with a meat cleaver (also standard equipment). The two things he needed to happen didn’t quite work out, with the knife getting stuck halfway through and the discount amputation not getting all of the infection. Sucks to be him.

Then we get to see the human condition disintegrate faster than the dead and infected polar bear in the lab that’s a veritable shopping mall for hundred of thousands of bugs. In order to make the world understand the threat, the good ’old doc infects himself and plans on being the only one evacuated. His reasoning being that, yeah, a few hundred thousand may die, but this is a valuable lesson for us all to stop making the atmosphere so toxic with our SUVs and party flatulence. But the doc’s daughter has a different ending in mind -- and it’s just what the doctor didn’t order.

The Thaw, though a decent “bug up your butt” movie, could use a little less moralizing and a bit more meat cleaver. And some Raid™. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


MEGA SHARK VERSUS GIANT OCTOPUS
(Asylum/2009)
Stars: Deborah Gibson, Lorenzo Lamas
Rating: Zero

The DVD cover depicts a giant octopus battling a giant shark while pulling a luxury liner to it’s new port at the bottom of the ocean. There is no luxury liner in the movie. There’s hardly any mega shark and giant octopus, either. All the cool parts -- which adds up to barely two minutes onscreen time -- were featured in the YouTube™ trailer. (You owe me -- I just saved you the $3.99 rental fee.)

Deborah Gibson -- who has more teeth than the mega shark -- is a rule-breaking oceanologist, tracking whales, hammerhead sharks and eels in WTF, Alaska. There, entombed in a glacier, is a Megalodon shark and a giant octopus, frozen in a romantic embrace. Both creatures are the size of Japan, give or take three feet. As soon as the ice breaks (like you didn’t see that coming), both swim away as if momentarily interrupted, even though it’s been thousands of millions of years since catching cold.

Feeling a bit peckish after his nap, the shark leaps 30,000 feet in the air and chomps on a commercial plane loaded with tasty customers. (That part I could believe. What I’m having trouble with is the plane was in the clouds; How could the shark see it? Totally unrealistic.) The shark later bites the Golden Gate™ bridge in half and swallows several Navy warships. Not to be outdone, the giant octopus snacks happily on 35-story deep sea oil rigs loaded with bite-sized humans (think screaming chocolate chips).

The scientist plan is to lure each beast into a holding area for study purposes: San Francisco Bay for the shark, Tokyo Bay for the octopus. This ends in mixed results (see “bridge chomped in half”). The military plan -- conceived by a trash-talkin’, ponytail-sportin’ Lorenzo Lamas, is to blast ’em to Fish ’n Chips Land. That also ends in mixed results.

It’s finally decided to lure the two digital monsters together to finish their “tastes great/less filling” argument started back in that Pleistocene epoch tavern. With Lorenzo and Deborah on board, you know the “acting” and “dialogue” is Z-grade stuff. No one cares as all we want to see is the shark and octopus biting Texas-sized chunks outta each other. In order to save money, the movie producers use -- over and over -- two-second footage of the shark zooming in for the mega-munch. Need him to turn left? Flip the film over.

The octopus looks like wiggling clay. Megalodon has teeth so white he could be a Crest spokeshark. The death battle results in Octo getting two arms bit off. He must be a magical cephalopod because all eight arms were intact when he and M-Don sank to the bottom of the ocean (and continued to sink as the credits rolled – five minutes after they killed each other).

Why do you keep letting me rent these movies? This is ALL your fault, people. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


THE MIDNIGHT MEAT TRAIN
(Lionsgate/2008)
Stars: Bradley Cooper, Vinnie Jones
Rating: ★★1/2

There is someone hammer-killing people on a New York subway, draining them of blood juice and hanging them on meat hooks in the reliable public transit system. Just another day in the Big Apple. A photographer stumbles onto the carnage and discovers a silent killer who butchers the passengers as though they were Black Angus™ sirloins.

Leon, the photographer, tries telling the cops, but they don’t believe him. So Leon tries to solve the murders himself. Encountering the butcher (known as Mahogany) on a midnight run, Leon manages to push Mr. Knife off and rides the train all the way into a secret underground cavern where there are one million skeletons, some picked clean, others half-rotting and no doubt smelling like an Arby’s™ restroom. Half-human/half reptile people enter the train and pick up their delivery food, as it’s been done for over 100 years. This makes it so the reptile people don’t have to come to the surface to find tasty citizen food. In return, the reptile people make the city rich. (I don’t know how -- none of ‘em seem to have jobs.)

This is why the police weren’t interested in Leon’s suspicions as they’re in on the whole yummy plan. Mahogany, bruised and bloodied, shows up and he and Leon get into it. This match doesn’t work out so well for Leon -- his tongue gets ripped out and eaten, his girlfriend is sacrificed on a dinner plate of bones and her heart ripped out of her chest area. All while Leon watches. But the night isn’t over for Leon -- he just got a new job. Guess what that is?

Adapted from the Clive Barker 1984 short story of the same name, The Midnight Meat Train could’a used a bit more meat as it just wasn’t enough to make you go vegan. But then how can you say no to human beef? It’s what’s for dinner. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


LEGEND OF THE OGRE
(Laguna Productions/2006)
Stars: Two chicks, an ogre
Rating: Zero

When one thinks of an ogre, it’s usually visualized as something that looks like a WWE wrestler after he’s lived in a garbage landfill for year while wearing a diaper made out of a bear. It might also have one or fewer eyes and a Fred Flintstone club for hitting diaper-providing bears. The ogre in this movie is a young Japanese girl with hot pink long hair, a gray complexion and dressed in pajamas three sizes too big. Worse, the story about the punk rock ogre unleashing hell is as lame as the fake wig she wears.

Two high school girls and their female teacher go to a village out in the woods to study regional folklore. Their cell phones don’t work that far into the woods. Right outta the gate -- BIG problems. Upon arriving, a screamy old woman runs up to them and speaking louder than normal starts yelling “Ominous, ominous!” I don’t know what that means. Staying in a vacant house the girls snoop around and open a storehouse, which unleashes unimaginable horrors and... Uh, yeah -- not even close.

The pink-haired woman was locked up (or “imprisoned”) in the storehouse even though she saved the village from a red dragon (told, not shown) many moons ago. Now that she’s free to model her pajamas, there’s much ominous-ing to get caught up on. The teacher dies, as did my patience for something cool to happen. (I actually fell into a deeper sleep twice while napping through the tedious non-action.)

Legend of the Ogre was filmed on one of those consumer digital video cameras, so it looks like your neighbor filmed it. From the half-baked storyline to the day-glo hair, everyone needs to go back in the storehouse and reflect on what they’ve done. — Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


Z.A.: ZOMBIES ANONYMOUS
(Well Go USA/2007)
Stars: Gina Ramsden, Joshua Nelson
Rating: ★★1/2

The dead are coming back to life -- YET AGAIN -- but not to scarf brains, munch guts, or chew inner organs this time. Well, kinda. Except for the wounds/diseases that terminally disrupted their breathing, these zombies are as intact as you and I. (Mostly me.) As such, they’re discriminated against by the living. So much so, a roaming band of street thugs (fronted by a terminally on the rag chick) form a self-appointed zombie death squad and go around making the undead permanently dead.

One of the newest recruits is a girlfriend-beating piece of excrement who just shot his soulmate punching bag in the head. She returns to life and tries to resume her life. Except he later sees her hanging out with a zombie support group. Darn it all to heck -- now he has to kill her again.

But his guilt is getting to him and it clouds his judgment when it comes time to chop/slice/shoot/kick/pinch/hurt. Why she just doesn’t use her zombie powers and rip his head off is beyond me. Yeah, this is a tongue-in-cheek commentary satire, but there’s hardly any humor. In fact, the viciousness of the zombie hunters is downright cruel and makes you want to hug a zombie in order to comfort them in their time of need.

Overload of gore? Yep. That a bad thing? Nope. Was it enlightening as well as entertaining? C’mon -- zombies and the rampant ripping of expendable body parts? Hell yeah! -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


THE CRY
(Monterey Media Inc./2007)
Stars: Adriana Domínguez, Christian Camargo
Rating: ★1/2

The legend of La Llorona gets a contemporary car wash in this time-honored tale of a woman who, centuries ago, drowned her kids in a river and spends 100s of years crying about it. Oh, yeah -- if you hear her cries and you’re a mom, you’ll pretty much feel compelled to give your kids swimming lessons, too.

All over New York young children are turning up missing. And the ones still around are being sacrificed to the bathtub gods by their moms. One such mother, a lovely Latino gal with an asthmatic son, isn’t gonna let La Llorona take him, even though she has a psychic connection to the spirit via an incident that happened to her as a child. (It’s between them, so don’t look at me for answers.)

Detectives Scott and Perez are on the case and even consult a local Curandera (Spanish fortune-teller). She says, “el La Llorona yo la venida,” which translates to the La Llorona is coming. Well, duh -- that’s why we rented the movie. Det. Scott has some insight here. Years ago, as a financial advisor (his nickname’s “Wall Street”) his wife put their eight-year-old son in the tub -- face first. Then she took her own life. Then he became a cop. Now he’s trying to find Maria, the hot single mom, before she shows her son what the bottom of a lake looks like.

Stylish flashbacks pop up accordingly, but there’s only about 1/4 teaspoon of blood, a few poked out eyes, and you don’t get to see the La Llorona (especially if you have poked out eyes). You can hear her crying, though. And you can hear me crying for all the dollars I spent renting this frightless/sightless movie. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


NIGHT SKIES
(Sony Pictures/2008)
Stars: A.J. Cook, Jason Connery
Rating: ★1/2

Tailgating on the back of the heavily documented 1997 Phoenix lights incident where thousands of people witnessed what was thought to be a UFO over Arizona (but might have been lights), Night Skies finds the same light configuration following an RV full of young people lost on a back road. Looking at said lights instead of the road causes the driver to crash the recreational vehicle into a tree, knocking everyone inside down, one of whom lands on a butcher knife. (I don’t know why more RVs don’t come with butcher knives; It should be standard equipment.)

They’re in the same boat (except for that knife thing) as another guy whose truck conked out. He has some medical training and uses Super Glue™ to keep the knife wound from leaking blood all over the RV’s plush interior. While this is happening, dark colored aliens are stalking the humans, making the same chirping sounds those aliens did in Signs. They must know each other.

Setting out through the woods to find a bigger Band-Aid™, the chirping sounds pave the way for confusion and fear take over and one guy is accidentally shot. (The aliens must love how we’re all bunch of wussies.) One of the girls runs outside only to be sucked into the sky by a green light. Then the RV starts shaking like there were teens inside. Managing to escape (for now), the aliens track down the helpful guy with a gun and a chick who we earlier found out was pregnant.

Regaining consciousness, both wake up on board the UFO (or “lights”) covered in what looks to be half-digested pasta and Super Glue™. The aliens slather some sort of space paste on the girl’s stomach, which makes her top skin transparent. Now they can see her organs. How embarrassing for her. Then they reach in and take out her impending child. (It’s here where an audible “whew!” sound is heard, probably from the baby’s father back in the RV.)

Helpful guy, though naked and covered with party fluids, still has the gun with one shot left. Should he use it on the aliens? Should he shoot the girl in the head to spare her the pain of having a lunar abortion? Should he shoot someone wearing the same pants size so he can get out of this mess with some dignity? Better to run outside screaming and shoot at those lights in the sky instead. That’s totally what I would do given the opportunity.
-- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


FOREST OF DEATH
(Universe Films/2007)
Stars: Qi Shu, Rain Li
Rating: ★1/2

A forest in Japan is a popular place to go for a picnic, sight-seeing, hiking and committing suicide. A television crew reports on the woods, sensationalizing the do-it-yourself killings by implying the forest is haunted. It is, but that’s beside the point.

Elsewhere, a gorgeous detective (female -- I should’ve clarified) is hot on the trail of a guy whom she believes raped and murdered a girl in that very same forest. With no physical evidence she can’t prove the crime and therefore must let the smug thug run wild and free. That is, until a botanist discovers that plants can not only communicate, but are capable of recording emotions. And tree-huggers the world over rejoice.

Re-enacting the crime in the forest before a crowd of reporters, machines with wires are hooked up to the surrounding flora and the experiment begins. Nothing happens. The criminal starts laughing so hard he triggers and emotional response within the trees. Leaves fall and when they touch you give flashbacks of the crime as if videotaped. The killer has no choice but to confess. But it’s not over yet. The forest experiences earthquakes and mysterious fog that spews forth fog ghosts with red glowing eyes. We’re told that the spirits won’t harm anyone who wants to live, but that they’re curious over anyone who comes there to take their life.

A search of the forest yields dozens of bodies, pretty much dead. Further perplexing is a morgue scene where the bodies are taken and an old woman comes to identify a corpse as her brother who disappeared 40 years ago. She’s aged horribly but he doesn’t look a day over the last time she saw him. He must’ve used really good moisturizer.

The botanist’s girlfriend -- one of the shock TV news reporters -- thinks he’s having an affair with the detective and disappears into the forest to (wait for it) kill herself. The boyfriend (who is now the Dr. Dolittle of vegetation) and the detective search for her and encounter the fog ghosts. The botanists pleads for help from his foliage friends and a light appears from the sky. Yeah, you guessed it -- it’s a UFO. (Don’t look at me, I didn’t write this mess.)

They had me going with the “talks to trees” angle. But the fog ghosts served no purpose other than to goon out the weak-minded. And the UFO? Don’t get me started. I guess they needed a way to explain the guy showing up in the morgue four decades later. As a side note, the movie goes on to explain there are forests of death such as this all over the world and that thousands go missing in them each year. Fine by me. I’d rather stay inside and not get emotion leaves all over my shirt. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


THE FOURTH KIND
(Universal/2009)
Stars: Milla Jovovich, Elias Koteas
Rating: ★★1/2

If you live in Nome, Alaska and turn up missing, chances are you got drunk and lost in the woods and were eaten by a bear, or you were abducted by extraterrestrials. I’m split down the middle on this one, mostly due to the allegedly true events The Fourth Kind proposes.

Purportedly using actual archival video interview footage of psychologist Dr. Abigail Tyler whose distraught patients are being visited nightly by an owl (not a real one, but a symbol of some sort), we’re led to conclude aliens are probing for something more than oil deep within our personal Tundra, and that the recollection of which is so horrifying we suppress it, thereby causing paranoid schizophrenia. This results in messed up sheets, vomiting towards the floor and levitating out one’s bed. Might as well throw suicide into the mix as well.

Dr. Tyler has a bunch of patients experiencing the same thing and puts one guy under hypnosis to see what’s under that dark rock that is his slowly cracking egg. Unable to resolve his anxiety, he shoots his family and himself in a tense police stand-off, made to look more real by the use of “real” police cameras. The local sheriff wants Tyler to stop stirring up the bees in people’s heads as it’s making them freak out even more.

But Tyler has her own bees to deal with. A short while back her husband was murdered in the bed next to her, the trauma of which left her young daughter blind and her son full of rage unexpressed rage. (He’ll be OK once someone buys him Gameboy™ or something.) A clue in the form of a tape played back after she fell asleep reveals that she was screaming her freakin’ head off while another voice, using ancient Sumarian, spoke to her and did “things” to her body. A translator indicates there’s more where that came from.

Another hypno session goes wrong, leaving a patient paralyzed from the neck down, so she’s put on house arrest. Later that night a cop stationed outside her house witnesses something flying over head, sucking Tyler and her family out through the roof. Everybody is returned. Almost. Even though it was witnessed by a cop, what was caught on the patrol car dashboard camera is inconclusive.

Up front they tell you they’re portraying a reenactment, mixing footage together split-screen style. This is kinda cool and gives the movie a nice creepy “real” feel, but the story unravels to the point where you’re not sure if it really was aliens doing the dirty work, or just a smokescreen for bigger issues, like bears eating drunks who are lost in the woods. Like I said, split down the middle. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


EXTE: HAIR EXTENSIONS
Tokyo Shock/2006)
Stars: Chiaki Kuriyama, Ren Osugi
Rating: ★★1/2

You know that shudder you get when you find a hair in your Cheerios™? More so when you eat it anyway and get a spoonful halfway down your throat and have to stick your fingers down there to pull out the offending strand? OK, multiply that by one hundred million and you get Exte, a hair-raising Asian horror movie about possessed hair extensions. Yeah, it sounds stupid. But you’ve seen some of the other movies I’ve reviewed, so be quiet.

A female corpse shows up in a huge freight container packed full of hair. She has surgical scars and besides missing her own hair is also missing inner organs. This is another in a string of unsolved murders, in which numerous young girls have been murdered alive for their inner workings for sale on the Black Market (kind of like eBay™ for criminals).

But what the cops can’t figure out is why each has no hair. The coroner might be able to tell you, but he’s too busy indulging in his hair fetish -- and has a new toy with the stolen corpse as her hair keeps growing and growing. And not just out of her head. Eyes, nostrils, fingernails... Am I forgetting any other orifices? Hair pours out of these portals. This gives him enough to trim and sell to the local salons who pay good money for human hair to use as wigs and extensions.

A stylist-in-training, Yuko (who played the emotionless schoolgirl assassin Gogo Yubari in Kill Bill Vol. 1) obtains some of this hair and weaves it into her abused niece’s locks. (Part of the sub-plot, which is actually harder to watch than the possessed hair.) One of the salon gals gets the new tresses and the hair goes evil on her, sprouting all over the place like black spaghetti gone wild. The coroner, waist deep, literally swims in all the hair his corpse keeps growing -- and he’s getting happier and weirder by the minute.

The corpse wants revenge and her hair back. The cops want to arrest somebody. And Yuko and her niece are about to get a permanent perm when all these elements come together in one of the hairiest (c’mon, you knew I was gonna say it sooner or later) scenes filmed. And the coroner? Let’s just say he’s about to have a really bad hair day. OK, now you can groan. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


100 FEET
(Voltage Pictures/2008)
Stars: Famke Janssen, Bobby Cannavale
Rating: ★1/2

After getting out of jail for killing her cop husband (also a professional wife beater), Marnie Wilson is put on house arrest in the same NY brownstone killing pad with blood still on the walls. Handcuffed to her ankle is one of those electronic tracking devices that beeps like a smoke detector when you light a cigarette or go outside its 100-foot range. This makes it tough to get away from the ghost of her husband who keeps showing up to get his revenge on her for her getting revenge on him.

The visitations are standard ghost stuff with little innovation. (Note to ghost: why rattle the silverware when you can use your powers to stick ’em into things like walls and people?) Shanks, her ex-husband’s cop partner, has it out for Marnie. One step outside the beep zone and she’s back in jail for 10 more years. So he sits in his car outside her house and stares. Good use of taxpayer money. When he checks in on Marnie and discovers her face bruised, he uses years of detective work to conclude someone else killed her husband to death and she can’t say who without herself getting killed, also to death.

Shanks thinks it’s the handsome sexy grocery delivery guy with a criminal record. Yeah, not so much. While having sexual relations with the HSGDG, the ghost husband shows up, looking like a paint smear than an actual ghost. Seeing his wife doing it with someone not him makes him head-butt the kid in the face over and over, the boy’s blood splattering to show the outline of Mr. Invisible.

By the time Shanks does show up (and has a body drop on him from the ceiling, which I felt was momentarily humorous), he discovers Marnie was telling him the truth about her ex-ghost. The story? Kinda interesting. The ghost action? Meh. The handsome sexy grocery delivery guy face-smashing? Nice. The ending? Feh. And whole-heartedly stand by that. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


CHRONICLES OF AN EXORCISM
(Singa Home Entertainment/2008)
Stars: Dara Wedel, Matthew Ashford
Rating: 1/2

In a rat hole of a house in the middle of a cornfield two amateur filmmakers document several priests and a pastor trying to suck the devil out of a nicely tanned and blonde supermodel with hellishly perfect teeth who’d look more at home in a shampoo commercial. She floats. She swears. She wears contacts to make her look evil. She gets loose in the corn. If I were possessed, those are exactly the things I’d do, mostly because it looks like fun and not because I’m possessed or anything.

Strange, though, to have five guys dog-piling on her and tying her up with duct tape and blessed rope. Seems I recall a fetish internet video that was almost like this (except it had more close-ups). Turns out the swimsuit model is possessed by five demons, all of whom the priests had encounters with in other countries (Korea, Eastern Europe, South America, 7-Eleven). By possessing the girl these unclean spirits are basically doing the evil version of instant-messaging.

One of the priests has a secret, which, as you know, is a weakness that inhabited souls exploits. Her pastor is a loudmouth who argues with the other “holy” men and helps fumble the exorcism, ending with the whole place going up in smoke. The pastor made it out. The priests and the girl who was tied to the bed didn’t. The cameramen did, but one brought something out with him. (Wasn’t the script because it was only two pages long.)

All handheld camera stuff shot on a budget of what wouldn’t be enough for one sun tanning session. I don’t know how the priests kept from laughing during the overly long and loudly shouted exorcism. Somebody should’ve told me Chronicles of an Exorcism was a comedy. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


BELIEVERS
(Warner Home Video/2007)
Stars: Johnny Messner, Jon Huertas
Rating: ★★

Yet another cult wants to save your soul and take you to the other side of the Galaxy where your unconditional faith will be rewarded with immortality. And to purify your soul you must first enter the Gas Chamber of Salvation and divest yourself of all your Earthly belongings: your KISS T-shirt and your life (which for SOME of us is the same thing).

This cult, lead by an older scientist-y looking fart, has convinced two dozen people he cracked the code, the one that proves God’s existence. And here all this time we worshipped the Bible instead of a math book. I am SO going to Hell. It is further explained that everyone left behind will suffer total destruction via fire from the sky. (Whoever is planning on lighting candles and tossing ‘em off your roof -- not funny.)

Two paramedics are summoned to assist a woman outside of a gas station who has fainted and is unresponsive to stuff like, “Hey! Hey you!” and “Get up -- you’re blocking the f’n road!” They’re taken hostage at gunpoint by a group of cult members, one of whom shoots a hole through the shoulder of one medic. He survives but the woman doesn’t. But she and her daughter are taken anyway. Locked in the Reflection Room (dirty bathroom stall with no toilet paper), they scream and cuss to be let out, but the cult says not gonna happen as it will jeopardize their disembarking to the Galaxy up the road.

So the choices are become one of them and be saved from the fireballs, or be forced to take a death pill that also doubles as antacid. The dead woman comes back to life to convince the hole-y man that his life can be spared. Then she makes out with him. Pretty much all that would take for me to join the party, too. The other manages to escape with the little girl, but gets caught and brought back to the underground compound where he has to make the decision: sky fire or poison. He chooses poison, probably because it tastes better than gas chamber vapors.

It is now time to go. Everyone is locked into a room and the gas turned on. The medic pulls himself free from his cult handcuffs and force vomits the pill. Whew! Too late to rescue his buddy, though. Jump ahead a month and the little girl lives with him and his wife in their sunny home and... Hmmm, the sky seems extra brighter today. Must be all those fireballs. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


WILD COUNTRY
(Lionsgate/2005)
Stars: Samantha Sheilds, Martin Compston
Rating: ★★

Tough deal being 16 and pregnant and forced to give up your kid to someone who could provide a better life (i.e., Xbox™) for your kid. Even tougher to find an abandoned baby in the ruins of a castle in the middle of the Scottish Highlands rented out by a werewolf. Fortunately, for the baby anyway, there’s someone within the group of teens out hiking who is carrying around a packaged meal under her blouse. Not so fortunate for the rest of the group (three guys, one girl) who become unhappy meals for the werewolf.

While managing to kill the burly beast (it looks like a cross between a fake bear and Alf), they think they’re in the clear. But that’s the problem with today’s teens -- they just can’t wrap their heads around basic math, meaning that where there’s one werewolf, there’s probably two. So, goodbye to all but the girl and the baby, whom the werewolf seems to have a familiar attraction.

Running across the moors with a lycanthrope on your heels while carrying a crying alarm horn is the last chance for all involved. Fortunately, a sheepherder on an ATV makes for a nice distraction, getting his entire torso bitten off with one snap of the jaw. With a fresh-on-the-market one owner ATV available, the girl makes her way to a farm house where the werewolf tracks her down.

It was all pretty good up until this point: acceptable levels of gore versus screaming, blood versus attacking. But the last two final scenes were so comical as to water down all of the above. As if you couldn’t figure out who the baby belonged to. But if there’s one thing to take away from this heavily-accented movie (so much so as to need sub-titles), it’s that you probably shouldn’t breast feed the animals. I know I won’t from this point moving forward.
-- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


THE LAST WINTER
(IFC Films/2006)
Stars: Ron Pearlman, James Legros
Rating: ★★1/2

Global warming with a twist. It’s not the toxic greenhouse gases leaking up from thawing permafrost that’s causing an oil drilling advance team in Alaska to walk naked into a sub-zero midnight snow storm, but the mythical Wendigo, a cannibalistic moose. And all this time we’ve been buying into the lies of scientists. Damn conservatives.

Begrudgingly working alongside of hippies, uh, I mean, Greenpeace™ type environmentalists, Ed Pollock, a tough-talking leader of a drilling base in the de-cooling Arctic, needs massive equipment delivered, but ice roads can’t be constructed due to the ground being all warm ’n fuzzy. The environmentalist won’t sign off on letting the gear be brought in because it’ll damage the Tundra. That’s like saying you won’t go outside because the wind will mess up your hair.

While that battle rages on, a team member is beginning to freak out over incessant noises, mysterious tracks, out-of-nowhere windstorms and ghostly visions of cannibal moose running around like they own the place. This culminates in the taking off of clothes and wandering out into the frozen night. The next morning his footprints lead fifteen feet from the building, then disappear as if having been given a lift from a passing cannibal moose. His body was found miles away with the eyes picked out by crows. (Note: Since it’s so globally-warm in Alaska, birds can hang out there and eat all the delicious snow/eyeballs they want.)

A rescue plane doesn’t fare much better with a less-than-textbook landing into the drilling station. More than one are burned alive, which means BBQ for the birds. The team captain and hippie, uh, environmentalist take off on a snowmobile (or “Ski-doo™”) to find help. They find none. Then the Ski-doo™ pulls a doo-doo and conks out. Then the Wendigos arrive to gore you with their antlers of death and hooves of doom.

Good creepy build-up of events, some nicely-enunciated swearing, and a cheery dread that something is out there in the show that has the potential to eat your snowshoes off. From the knee down. Too bad the Wendigos were computer graphics. Would’ve been nice to see a real one for once. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


THE COTTAGE
(Sony Pictures/2008)
Stars: Andy Serkis, Reece Shearsmith
Rating: ★★★1/2

What started out as a standard botched “kidnapping for ransom” dealie by two bumbling British brothers hiding out in a rural cottage with the foul-mouthed niece of a strip club owner, takes a superbly grim turn halfway in when a farmer, wearing timeless overalls and hopelessly mangled from a farming accident (he must’ve stepped on a rake), shows up to do a little harm on the farm.

The wicked, piss-yourself humor is as dark as the farmer’s shed where a collection of rotting heads is kept on the shelves. (Apparently, he doesn’t take kindly to city folk.) The kidnapping itself is funnier than all get out, with the busty blond chick managing to break the nose of one of the brothers with several amazing headbutts -- while her hands were tied behind her back!

When the farmer comes up out of the basement, this thing gets double crazy fun with a foot being severed, a head being cut in half, a pick-axe to the upper femur area, neck slicing... “This is the worst night of my life,” screams one kidnapper who ends up with a broken nose, jaw, glasses and half his foot (with sock) missing.

The last one standing, he makes the mistake of trying to escape through the basement where... Not gonna tell you, but it’s classic. The Cottage has been described as Fargo meets Friday the 13th. I could’ve come up with something just as accurate, but I choose not to do so at this time. So there. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


DOGHOUSE
(Sony Pictures/2009)
Stars: Danny Dyer, Noel Clarke
Rating: ★★★1/2

Another brilliant tongue-ripped-from-cheek British zombie movie that could easily be the sequel to Shaun of the Dead. Feeling suffocated and emasculated by the women in their lives and wanting to help a depressed buddy (oops, I mean “mate” -- this IS England after all) get over a divorce, six guys take a chartered bus to Moodley, an out-of-the-way village for a weekend of male bonding: drinking until they throw up, smoking stinky cigars, pontificating with dirty language and socializing with the opposite sex. They don’t get to drink or smoke, but the ladies have their full attention, mostly because they’re all undead man-hating cannibals.

Referred to as “Zombirds,” the face-eating gals were infected by a man-made toxin that only affects females. And they outnumber the guys three to one. The guys fight back with anything they can, which is lighter fluid-filled squirt guns, remote-controlled toy trucks carrying severed heads and golf clubs.

One lucky guy is tied up by a rotting fat zombie chick who chops off his finger and eats it sexily. I’m thinkin’ ick right about now. This, of course, is just finger food (sorry) until the main course. During the splattering chaos the men find themselves actually having fun and thinking some of the zombie chicks are kinda hot despite the whole neck-chomping thing.

The dialogue is face-splittingly funny (right up there with the equally brilliant Severance) and the gore is both plentiful and glorious. (The fat zombie woman getting hit by a bus looks like they dropped a 300-pound bag of hot dog ingredients off a high-rise.)

Even if you don’t like England (and really, who does?), you’ll love Doghouse. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


ONECHANBARA: BIKINI SAMURAI SQUAD
(Tokyo Shock/2008)
Stars: Taro Suwa, Eri Otoguro
Rating: ★1/2

Based on the insanely popular Japanese video game by the same name (I forget what that is), Aya is a hot Asian zombie hunter who wears little more than a tight bikini, a cowboy hat, stylish leather boots, a feather boa (to accessorize), floor-length coat (which comes off easily) and packs a magic sword to keep the undead away from her bikini.

And speaking of, the zombies, scientifically created by the D3 Corporation™, have all but taken over the world, most of which is now in ruins, with cities looking like half-finished meals. These zombies, however, have martial arts skills, can reason, form gangs and don’t have a single reason to use a toothbrush. Aya, with her fat-ass assistant Katsuji, make coleslaw out of the dead, using her trademark flips and spins and ricochet reflexes to separate head from neck, shirt from pants.

Showing up to help is Reika, another hot Asian gal in tight clothes who has blazing guns skills, which are also used to aerate zombie brains. Aya and Reika don’t really get along and even fight amongst themselves, but their skills are too evenly matched, so nothing is settled. (Might I suggested a hot shower battle scene?) Aya, though, is on an unstoppable mission: to find the killer of her father: her sister Saki (the girl, not the delicious rice wine that makes you throw up when you drink 12 shots).

When Aya and Saki (dressed in a fetching schoolgirl outfit) converge, high-flying, sword-clanging action ensues. This is the part of the movie that looks more like the videogame, using the same digital tornado effects and red and blue flaming swords. I didn’t care as much for this as Aya’s bikini, holding my breath during the fight scene in anticipation of it suddenly being sucked off by the whirling wind tunnel the two girls battle to the death inside of without their hair getting messed up.

The first half of Onechanbara: Bikini Samurai Squad has great bloodspill moments, but too many emotional segments (Katsuiju finding his zombie little sister and having to kill her, Reika failing to protect another little girl from the undead and having to shoot the pre-teen face-eater like she did her own daughter), distract from opportunities to model THE BIKINI. Because of this, I’ll only watch it again three or more times. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


PARANORMAL ACTIVITY
(Paramount/2009)
Stars: Katie Featherston, Micah Sloat
Rating: ★★★

First things first: Is Paranormal Activity the scariest movie of all time like the hype wants us to believe? No. But it is pretty darn good at giving your nerves the dreaded Rear Admiral.

Filmed Blair Witch style (but light years better and with a firecracker of an ending), Paranormal Activity takes place in an upscale Santa Monica home occupied by two twenty-somethings -- an English major gal looking to become a teacher and her day-trader boyfriend (no job, just risking their money on stock speculation). Jumping right in we see Michah (the boyfriend) having just purchased a really expensive video camera (no doubt of the soaring profits he made on gold silver bonds treasury notes) to find out why he and Katie (his girlfriend) are being plagued by ominous sounds and events that occur between 1AM and 4AM every night.

Setting up the camera in their bedroom to record while they sleep, what they find during the playback in the morning freaks them out -- and it isn’t the noises coming from under the sheets. Doors opening and closing...crashing thumps...something coming up the stairs...shadows...blankies being pulled off...underwear liberated from buttocks... OK, not that last one.

Each night the incidents become more pronounced and more aggressive. So they call in a specialist who pretty much says they’re f*cked. Katie tells him that this isn’t the first time she’s been spooked. Starting at age 8, and again at 13, she’s experienced a malevolent essence that just won’t leave her alone. So each night for three weeks Michah films around the clock.

Where the scares ramp up is when Michah sprinkles powder on the floor around their bed only to find three-clawed footprints that lead to nowhere. Then Katie gets up in the middle of the night and just stands there for several hours staring at the oblivious Michah. That’s got creepy written all over it. Bringing in a Ouija Board™ to communicate with the spirit only makes it angrier. To tell you what happens next would just be cruel on my part. I’m willing to do this, but I might make the demon ghost mad at me. And I used up all my powder on reoccurring (and horrifying) jock itch.

Needless to say, the ghost stuff is pretty standard for the first half, but gets really hairy up to -- and including -- the end. Paranormal Activity effortlessly manages to do what Blair Witch didn’t/couldn’t, which was/is to make you have to flip your mattress. Plus, it doesn’t suck as much as BW did/does/continues to do. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


RE-CYCLE
(Universe/2006)
Stars: Angelica Lee, Siu-Ming Lau
Rating: ★★★1/2

Tsui Ting-Yin is a successful romance novelist who scored three best-sellers about love-gone-flush, based on her own experiences. Now she wants to write a horror novel. I fail to see the difference. Once she begins drafting her book, spooky things happen: Someone using the shower and leaving long black hair all over the place, phone ringing and hissing noises that make it hard to watch TV, typing paper moving as if by an invisible and possibly demonic secretary. Seems whatever Tsui writes is coming to fruition.

Convinced there is an entity in her stylish, yet conservative apartment (there is), she is directed to leave the place and go wherever the spirit indicates. Getting out of an elevator, Tsui goes outside to find the entire world is totally messed up. Everything looks old and abandoned (like me after last call), and a horror-faced ghost (with like-minded associates) is fast on her tail. But how to get out of this forgotten place? The bus hasn’t been by in decades.

She meets an old man who tells her she cannot stay (really?) and that she needs to get to the Transit, a way back to her world. A cute little girl with a dirty face and old clothes tells Tsui that this place is where the discarded go: Ideas, toys, goods and services... And people. Again she is told to get out here, because hey -- dangerous. They have to hurry because everything around them is beginning to disintegrate into black particle stuff, which would plug up your nose if you breathed it. The old man gives her a riddle clue as to the Transit’s whereabouts, but doesn’t know the exact location as the map got some root beer spilled on it or something. He gives her some Hell money and advises them to do a bunch of seemingly nonsensical stuff as IT’S IMPORTANT. Off they go.

First stop, a forest where bodies are hanging from trees. Their necks are stretched out from hanging so long. And they aren’t quite dead. Then it’s a race through a Fetus Tunnel and across a foot bridge blocked by the living, but rude dead. Then through a graveyard where people are buried outside their graves. That is plain f’d up. Still the zombie/ghost/vengeful spirit pursues.

When Tsui Ting-Yin and the girl arrive at the Transit, the truth about why she’s in this dimensional part of town and the little girl herself are revealed. Warning -- it’ll mess with your head (especially if you’re a chick, which I’m pretty sure some of you are).

The cinematography and effects are stunning on a Lord of the Rings/Harry Potter level. (When it rains, bodies pour from the sky. Be sure and wear human-proof galoshes.) Re-Cycle is one of those winning Lotto™ tickets after buying (or renting) thousands your whole stinkin’ life. In its native Thailand, this movie was called Gwai wik. I don’t like that title any more than I do Re-Cycle as it lacks a certain “brain-eating” quality. But just see it, ’k?
-- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


THE OBJECTIVE
(IFC Films/2008)
Stars: Jonas Ball, bargain-basement special effects
Rating: ★★

There’s a whole lotta nothing out in the middle of the Afghanistan desert. A few rocks, some dirt, a bunch of bugs...and a UFO.

Led by a CIA operative, a team of six elite special forces guys with cool machine guns are led to believe they’re looking for some local dude with a name too hard to spell who may be able to help them find terrorists. Joining them is another local dude, a guide with an equally un-spellable name. Along the way their unit is ambushed, resulting in one casualty for our side, four for the enemy. But the mission comes first, so the “no longer in running order” body is cached for later extraction.

Next day a pair of Army boots and glistening entrails are found with the aforementioned bugs all over ’em. One guess as to whom the innards belonged to. All along Agent Keynes has been using hi-tech heat-sensing equipment to film anomalies (lights, shapes, triangles that look like the Master Control Program in Tron) and beaming the images back via satellite uplink. Mysteriously, everyone’s canteen water has been turned to sand. (Nice, though, if you want a refreshing dirt martini.)

Dehydration and madness begin to make their appointed rounds. In the middle of the night, a bright beam about the size of God’s flashlight zaps ’em. Attempting to flank the object, two soldiers are vaporized, with nothing left but their scent. A peek through the infrared camera shows humanoid shapes walking into a triangle. The naked eye, however, sees nothing. Weird. Their guide is lost as the topography has somehow changed. The compass says due north is behind them. The closest 7-Eleven™ is 47,000 miles from here. Dire, dude.

Nerves getting frayed to the point of insubordination, the CIA agent explains they’ve known about the “visitors” for years, and that their mission wasn’t to seek out terrorists and shoot them in the belief system, but gather more information and see if we could borrow their other-world technology to, like, conquer this world. The guide, knowing a doomed situation when he sees one, commits the ultimate offering to his Maker by unmaking himself off the side of a cliff. Then there were three. Another takes off without saying good-bye. The last soldier is so dry from thirst he can’t even pee his own pants. But the Agent has to keep moving.

Eventually finding an oasis, he drinks the “water,” hears a helicopter and fires a flare signal. Then dozens of flares start going off around him. The aliens are mocking him, those butt-heads. Hallucinating and barely able to stand, the aliens find him and touch his forehead, kinda like what E.T. did to that kid in that movie (unable at this point to recall what the title was). Visions flood into his head and he awakes to find himself in a military lab -- and he’s doing something he couldn’t do before. I could tell you, but the ending leaves one scratching an itchy part of one’s logic.

Made by the director of The Blair Witch Project (how much longer are they gonna milk that cow?), The Objective’s conclusion is just as perplexing. Dang it. While the story is superbly character driven, the special effects aren’t what I’d call special. Interesting concept, but the weak pay off makes me think that maybe we aren’t being visited by aliens after all and that I’ve just been wasting my time thinking so. I’m gonna shift my theories back over to Bigfoot; He won’t let me down like this movie did. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


THE HAUNTING IN CONNECTICUT
(Lionsgate/2009)
Stars: Kyle Gallner, Virginia Madsen
Rating: ★★ 1/2

Not to be confused with A Haunting in Connecticut. In 1987 the working class Campbell family has a teen son stricken with cancer, so they move into a cheap haunted house rental closer to his hospital. (Four hours to and from, plus that whole car sickness thing... There’s only so much vomit to go around in one day.) Nobody told them the four-story Victorian dump was once a funeral home where satanic rituals were frequently used to summon the dead. OK, maybe it was in the fine print, but still.

The sick boy moves into the basement -- right next to the locked room where bodies were meticulously scalpel-inscribed with biblical scripture (on every available surface, even the butt), and the eyelids snipped off and saved in an ornate box. Where else would you put ’em, in the fridge next to the pickles? Don’t be gross.

Standard ghost stuff ensues -- spooky whisper voices, doors opening without someone first knocking, shadows that don’t belong to anyone living, blood-enhanced flashbacks. And still the boy sleeps just feet away from evil. That bed must really be comfortable. The eyelid collection plus death photos and death documents was eventually found in the floorboards, which the boy was able to piece together the previous tenants’ traditions. And all this time everyone thought it was just drug hallucinations of cancer kid. Nice going, Team Campbell.

The mortuary guy was also a necromancer and a holder of seances, which in today’s terms is referred to as multi-tasking. He employs a kid who can not only channel the dead, but manifest ectoplasm out his orifices. In some movies this is green ghost goo. In this one it looks like wet grocery sacks twisting out of his mouth (we thankfully don’t see where the other exit points are). During one seance the boy connects with a demonic entity and flaming wet grocery bags shoot out his mouth. The downside is now his soul -- as well as all the others -- are trapped in the house. Needless to say, a bit crowded in there.

A visiting local reverend, also in treatment for cancer, ascertains that the dead can see the sick teen because he’s on death’s door. And visa versa. Finding the charred remains of the medium, the priest removes it for proper recycling and... Apparently, that was a big hell no. Seems the boy’s essence was needed to keep the ghosts from going all evil-dee-doo on the place.

The grand finale finds the teen using an axe to chop into the walls, which just happen to have, oh, about three dozen mummified corpses piled up like discount insulation. One thing left to do -- set the house on fire, because hey, sick and dying, so what’s it gonna hurt? The eyelid-less dead appear and mom rushes into the burning house to save her son. Will the corpses let her just do that without asking? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll just shut up.

A Haunting in Connecticut, supposedly based on a true story (yeesh, not that hook again), starts out as a yawn. They saved the best for last, though, as the action picks up steam (and ash) during the last fifteen minutes. But I liked the gory flashbacks and felt the dead spirits looked rather nice, even without eyelids. Not a great ghost story, but not a bad one, either. Won’t scare the grocery bags outta you, though. --Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


SAW VI
(Lionsgate/2009)
Stars: Tobin Bell, Costas Mandylor
Rating: ★★★★

As with the all of the Saw movies, the story begins with two people waking up in one of Jigsaw’s traps, not knowing how or why they’re wearing a heavy metal hat with self-tightening bolts (probably to keep it from falling off). The rules are simple: a pound of flesh may save your life. In Jigsaw-speak that means each person has sixty seconds to cut off as much self as they can, put it down a chute where it lands on a scale. Carving, hacking and screaming, only one can win this game. Sort of. And this is just the first five minutes!

Picking up right where Saw V ended (with the violent squishing death of Agent Strahm), Lt. Hoffman, previously revealed to be a Jigsaw disciple, carries out his instructions, which is to impose jig-justice on the people who ingeniously tie-in to Jigsaw’s past. And just who are these lucky contestants? People in the health care insurance industry! How topical. (I bet they’re all Republicans, too.)

The traps themselves aren’t as elaborate as in Saw IV and Saw V, but are no less nasty -- various face disfiguring traps, hydrofluoric acid back rubs, a steel spike through the jaw and into the brain... But it isn’t until the end do we see the carousel, a sort of merry-go-round of doom. Talk about your ultimate Russian Roulette -- six insurance agents, members of the “dog pit” whose job it is to find discrepancies in health insurance polices so that the company can deny the claims, are chained to the ride with a loaded shotgun waiting to blow off the sensitive area between their neck and belt. Only two can survive. This, ironically, is controlled by their boss who now has to make life and death decisions outside the office. He pays the premium on this policy: a stake through the hand every time he pushes the stop button. Ouch squared.

Jigsaw, who died several sequels ago, shows up in strategic flashbacks, as does Amanda (his druggie assistant), his hot wife Jill, and of course, Lt. Hoffman. There’s also jump-arounds to previous Saw movies so one can finally connect the dots. (Trying to do that in Saw V felt like there was a bear trap strapped to my head.) And hey, there’s a surprise guest, who only gets a cameo. This is Saw we’re talking about -- you’re not supposed to survive.

Speaking of, the head of Umbrella Insurance dies in what looks to be a wickedly uncomfortable method that rivals Donnie Walhberg’s spectacular “two counter-balanced weights meets head” death in V. Clever double-crosses, Inquisition-esque torture devices, grisly games and people who deserve all of the above. I want my insurance rep to see this movie. Then we’ll talk about my claims for chronic beeritis. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


ATTACK GIRLS’ SWIM TEAM VERSUS THE UNDEAD
(Museum/2007)
Stars: Sasa Handa, Yuria Hidaka
Rating: ★★

A swim team of hot Asian schoolgirls in tight bathing suits battling their classmates and teachers who’ve been turned into the undead by a vaccine mix-up in the lab? You had me at tight bathing suits! Oh yeah — it gets better.

Aki, brainwashed and trained (in that order) to become an assassin, is transferred to an all-girl school just as a virus that turns the young ladies into entrail-twirling zombies has been making the rounds. (It was supposed to be a vaccine, but got mixed up by “accident.”)

Everyone -- teachers included -- are made into gleeful zombies, tearing into necks, chopping off limbs, decapitating students with metal rulers... Everyone, that is, except the swim team. Turns out the pool’s chlorine makes them immune to the zomb-virus.

Aki is befriended by the, shall we say, very friendly Sayaka, who seems to be allergic to clothes. In-between fighting off the zombies the two girls enjoy each other in the traditional all-girl school sense. (They may be Japanese, but their hands are roamin’. Heh.)

The cartoonish gore is straight grindhouse stuff and is amusingly entertaining -- one female teacher uses stringy guts pulled out of a chainsawed stomach to accessorize her fresh-stained wardrobe. The evil scientist turns out to be doubly so and faces off with Aki in the end, who’s not too happy about that whole “brainwashing through rape” technique. Aki, without any clothes worth mentioning, has a secret weapon up her, uh, sleeve.

Just so you know, this fine film is in Japanese and does not have sub-titles. Like that was gonna stop you.
-- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]

DEADGIRL
(Dark Sky Films/2008)
Stars: Shiloh Fernandez, Noah Segan
Rating: ★★★

Messed. Up. How else to describe the story of two bored teenage boys who break into an abandoned mental institution, find a door rusted shut, pry it open with a crowbar (all mental institutions have plenty on hand), discover a nude, feral-looking woman strapped to a table and decide to keep her as a love slave?

They discover she can’t be killed after one of the boys, while having his, uh, romantic way with her, “accidentally” strangles her, breaking her neck and causing painful looking bruises. The other teen, overcome with an icky feeling about how this is all wrong, decides, hey, not cool. The horny dude lets another friend in on the secret and the next thing you know, the woman has a bunch of new boyfriends.

Pretty distasteful stuff, until the school football jock bullies find out about it and are goaded into “gang dating” the woman. You have to avoid being bitten by her as it will make you dead but still alive. Your innards will rot completely out of your butt, though.

The emo teen makes emo eyes over the high school hottie, but she’s having none of it. This coincides with the other guys deciding they need a new dead girlfriend because this one is worn out. If you can add one plus the other one, now would be the time to do it.

Despite the whole repugnant subtext, those guilty are paid back in spades. And hey, there’s even some damn funny moments not involving the undead girl that will help take your mind off the subject matter. You’ll need it.
-- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


DEATH OF A GHOST HUNTER
(Well Go USA/2007)
Stars: Davina Joy, Mike Marsh
Rating: ★

Supposedly based on a true story, wherein a hunter of ghosts gets herself killed by the very thing she does for a living. Yep, totally believable.

Filmed with a pro-cam (more expensive than an consumer cam, but cheaper than a Hollywood cam), several “specialists” stay in the brightly-lit (albeit haunted) Masterson House, the site of murderous murders and various forms of wrongness. Carter Simms -- a paranormal investigator and self-titled skeptic -- is offered $5,000 to stay in the nicely-appointed house for three nights. The goal: solve the mystery of the murders/suicide that went down 20 years earlier wherein the mom spilled her marbles and killed her entire family. (The father deserved it, the kids and baby, not so much.)

Joining Carter is a young female bible-thumper, a camera-man and a local reporter who only believes in her make-up kit. Hard sell on the suspense since the movie was shot practically in daylight in an Arizona suburb with cars outside driving by to and fro.

The ghost’s job is to reenact the tragic murder/suicide scene so as to goon out the ghost hunters and make them wreck the insides of their pants. Like you need to be told, everyone dies in the end -- then they go for what seems like another hour (twenty-minutes, give or take), explaining why mom went cuckoo and deleted her family members. What, they couldn’t have done that up front to hook our interest instead of selling us on diluted “shock” scenes?

The ghosts kills them all because they were bored. With dialogue like “Someone peed on my suitcase,” can you blame them? -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


BIG MAN JAPAN
(Magnet Releasing/2009)
Stars: Hitoshi Matsumoto, Riki Takeuchi
Rating: ★★★

Daisoto is a 40-year-old introverted, divorced Japanese bachelor living in a pig-pen of a house, sitting in the park and eating the same meal every day. (Yeesh -- that hits a little too close to to the bone.) He also gets drunk with GILFs (Geishas) and sighs when his neighbors throw rocks through his window and leave less-than-complimentary messages on signs all over his lawn. (If I could read Japanese -- and I assumed I could -- one might say, “You way suck, Daisoto!”) For that a film documentary is being made about him.

Daisoto, turns out, is the last of a long line of giant monster killers. When a new Costco™-sized foe threatens Japan, the Department of Defense calls Daisoto and off he goes to a nearby power plant to get electrodes hooked up to his nipples and one million volts applied thusly. This causes him to grow into a giant with several-story tall Eraserhead/Kid ‘N Play hair wearing a pair of stunningly purple Samurai diapers and the occasional advertising sticker on his chest. His only weapon: a telephone pole-sized steel club. He needs it -- the colossal creatures that arrive out of nowhere to rearrange the city’s landscape are adversarial...and some of the most freakishly unique monsters ever seen in any country.

There’s the Strangling Monster, a nearly indescribable ogre with expanding cables for arms, which it uses to throw around buildings and back flips them. It also has a comb-over. Then there’s the Stink Monster, a female creature that emits the smell of 10,000 feces. It also acts as a perfume-like attractant to other monsters.

The beast Daisoto doesn’t want to face, though, is The Red One, a mega-tough child-devil creature that could end the career of Big Man Japan, thereby leaving the city unprotected. He eventually gets help from Super Justice, a family team of gaudy giant superheroes who clumsily defeat Red One and then argue about their fighting technique over tea while the credits roll (watch it all the way through).

Played as deadpan humor and as a tongue-in-cheek take on Japanese giant monster movies, you gotta see these things as there’s nothing you can compare ’em to. Except YOURSELF. I kid. Oh, and the reason his neighbors hate him so much? When in giant form Daisoto causes more destruction than he stops, uses up way too much electricity, is horrendously loud and not the sharpest chopstick in the drawer.

Watch Big Man Japan and put it in the “WTF?” category. Right now, if you have the time. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


THE HEIRLOOM
(Tartan Video/2005)
Stars: Jason Chang, Chang Yu-Chen
Rating: ★ 1/2

James hasn’t been home for a while. Twenty years, in fact, studying abroad. (Instead of studying a broad -- heh.) So imagine his surprise when he finds out he inherited the family’s huge mansion and can live there rent free. Sure, the place is in disrepair and could use a good de-ghosting. But free is always a good thing. Or is it?

James invites his professional performance art dancer fiancee to come live with him. Then they have some friends come over to drink some wine. (What, you too good for beer? Posers.) It’s during that visit something happens to their guests. The house has that effect on people seeing how all those years ago the entire family committed suicide by hanging -- all at the same time. The family that slays together, stays together.

Over the course of the slowly advancing plot we discover the multi-millionaire family used ghost children to help make them powerful, rich and a way to smite their enemies. And all this time I thought you just needed to rub a lamp. The care and feeding of the ghosts is another issue altogether, using family members’ um, juices for spiritual Happy Meals™. If you got sick or came down with a case of the brain tumors and polluted the food chain, then into the attic you went. For years.

The upshot of all of this is James’ friends are being hanged by invisible rope. (It’s amazing how technology has advanced.) His girlfriend finds out the secret of the cursed house and why it seems more haunted than usual. Turns out his mom used her own blood to feed -- and by extension command -- the ghost children to kill her entire family for locking her in the attic and making James go to a different country to study on how not to be a cursed relative. But every since he came back, the ghosts have been getting their sheets in a knot.

As the only heir to the place, the curse now falls upon him -- and his newly-pregnant lady. Um, oops! He decides he doesn’t want her to go through all that ghost feeding business, so he does something to her that’s way grim and not cool. Then he cuts his wrists (just like dear old mom did back in the day.) He dies. His now-single girlfriend does not. Yes, you already know the twist.

The Heirloom is murderously tedious, not particularly creepy and bogged down with too much talk (sub-titles) and not nearly enough cursed spirits. This is surprising given that there are so many ghosts out of work, a fair number of whom would work for free if given the chance. Oh, well. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


DRAG ME TO HELL
(Ghost House Pictures/2009)
Stars: Alison Lohman, Justin Long
Rating: ★ 1/2
In order to advance her stimulating career as a bank loan officer, Christine Brown denies an old gypsy woman an extension on a mortgage, thereby invoking a curse, that when applied properly, will drag your soul to Hell. In other words, account closed.

The gypsy, who looks like one of the mom’s of the Evil Dead, curses the girl’s coat button (!) and then dies. With the old bat dead, Christine can’t get the curse removed, which means those shadows, flashing spooky-face visits from the sort-of-deceased gypsy woman and possessed tree leaves plague her around the clock.

A visit to a fortune teller reveals her fate — pay $10,000 to have a medium (a socially nice way of saying scam artist) to call forth the Lamia (a socially nice way of saying the Devil) and trap said malevolent spirit in a smelly goat, then kill the goat. But first the ten grand. Christine goes to her garage to pack up all the stuff she can sell. Then the gypsy woman shows up and crams her entire forearm down Christine’s throat. Fortunately, there was an anvil hanging from a rope above her. (I thought only Wile E. Coyote was the only one who had anvils hanging precariously by rope overhead. Who'd think a banker would happen to have the exact same set up? Color me dumbfounded.)

So the seance was going fine until the demon got out and possessed the medium’s assistant. (Don’t worry, he’s fine.) The rules are clear, though. Give the cursed coat button to someone else, then their soul will burn in Hell for, like, a million years. The plan is to give the button back to the dead gypsy woman. I know what you’re thinking, but according to gypsy law, the soul never dies, hence...

Off to the cemetery to dig up the corpse, shove the button down said corpse’s throat and be rid of all those possessed leaves and indoor wind. Later, take a train trip with her boyfriend while wearing a brand new coat, one with nice stitching and no visible curses. If you can’t predict the ending at this point, go to Hell.

In all, Drag Me To Hell is shockingly stock horror movie with been-there-possessed-that thrills. Oh sure, there was the blinking eyeball in the cake, flies that looked like raisins, the possessed goat (which spoke -- like that’s believable) and a handkerchief in serious need of an exorcism. The gypsy woman, who spends a lot of time throwing up stuff (maggots, green gunk, undigested breath mints) in Christine’s mouth, is nicely horrifying. But the story and effects are as lackluster as my skills with the ladies. Try and see if you can get through the seance scene without laughing or throwing up green gunk. Can’t be done. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


ROGUE
(Dimension Extreme/2007)
Stars: Radha Mitchell, a supersized salt-water crocodile, smorgasbord tourists
Rating: ★★1/2

When you get down to it, giant crocodiles eating people is a solid business model. You have your scenic outdoor sequences, nature narratives, screamy tourists and hey, no unnecessary story lines -- just meet ’n eat!

A bowl full, uh, boatload of tourists vacationing in Australia go up the wrong river without a paddle. Something -- and I’m not saying what -- smashes into their dingy and flips it over, forcing them to swim for a small mud island. Some can dog-paddle faster than others. Good for them. Those who can’t, well... You may as well call the sandbar a dinner plate as it isn’t much of a safe haven due to a fast rising tide, leaving the leftovers, uh, tourists to figure out how to get across the river to what they think is safe ground.

From here on out it’s a guessing game to see which annoying tourist gets snacked in half and in what order before the all-you-can-eat ending. The tourist guide -- a blonde supermodel -- still thinks she’s in charge. That is, until Mr. Snappy makes out with her with his toothy kiss of death. (So much for a second date.)

Great butt-clenching tension as everyone tries to get to dry land on a rope line suspended a few feet over the water. You know what’s gonna happen, but it’s still fun to see it all go down. (Yeah, down Mr. Snappy’s throat -- ha!)

The crocodile in question is pretty big, doesn’t look fake and prefers a side order of screaming with his meals. Which makes Rogue on par with the other exact plot croc movie, Black Water and almost as good as Primeval. Like I said, a solid business model. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


13TH CHILD: LEGEND OF THE JERSEY DEVIL
(MTI Home Video/2002)
Stars: Cliff Robertson, Bruno
Rating: ★1/2

Taking liberal liberties with the TRUE story of the Jersey Devil, a series of vicious murders (i.e., bodily dismemberments, decapitations, torn shirts) plague the spooky Pine Barrens in New Jersey (there’s a new Jersey?). A special investigator from the city is sent to check that action out and discovers the Jersey Devil is an actuality versus someone going around acting like the Jersey Devil.

Cliff Robertson (Spider-Man’s uncle, sportin’ some terrifying hair plugs) plays the creepy Mr. Shroud, a “naturalist” who lives in the middle of the Pine Barrens, studies all of nature’s gangstas and will protect them “at all costs.” His words, not mine.

The Jersey Devil (named Bruno -- I am so not making that up) is reputed to be the 13th child of a Shaman who clearly used Viagra™ instead of magic. Having an Indian “witch doctor” for a dad may may account for Bruno’s supernatural aspects: glowing eyes (no big -- mine glow after three PBR tallboys), mega bull horns like that Darkness dude in Legend, and the ability to fly (Jersey doesn’t get any air time this time).

Here’s where mythos goes off the track. The REAL Jersey Devil was the 13th child of a freakishly fertile white chick in 1735. Upon finding out she was knocked up with no. 12, she said she’d rather have the Devil’s child than another squalling brat. Ask and ye shall receive. This Jersey Devil is a 200-year-old hybrid of spiders, bats, snakes, goats, bears and the Alien (that’s what it looked like to me, anyway).

Uncomfortably unnecessary segments include two teens trying to do naked what clothes have been preventing them from doing, and Robert Guillaume (TV’s Benson) as an inmate at the New Jersey Mental Health Institution (there’s an oxymoron) who knows Jersey’s secret and somehow transports out of his confines to show up at the last minute to “save the girl,” the aforementioned special agent.

Endless plodding and plot-stalling are but one of thirteen reasons 13th Child: Legend of the Jersey Devil needs to go back to the Pine Barrens and try to be more like the REAL Jersey Devil. I’d list the other twelve reasons, but my glowing eyes are bothering me right now. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


BLOOD: THE LAST VAMPIRE
(Sony Pictures/2009)
Stars: Gianna Jun, Allison Miller
Rating: ★★★

Saya may look like a your typical 16-year-old hottie with a sword, but she’s really a 400-year-old halfling, a child born of a human father and a vampire mother. OK, how does that work? For more than three (but less than five) centuries she’s been taking down vampires, whose blood she needs to survive. OK, how does that work? Saya has matchless Samurai skills, the strength of Godzilla’s paperboy and never smiles as she’s a loner hell bent on finding the ultimate vampire: Onigen, the grand mama of all bloodsuckers.

It’s post WWII (1970 to be exact) and Saya works for a secret C.I.A. operative, which cleans up after her. They better have a lot of Simple Green™ because Saya splits most of her adversaries in half, spilling digital blood like Clamato™. Infiltrating a U.S. military school for army brats based in Tokyo, Saya goes after an army general’s daughter’s classmates, who just happen to be vampires posing as high school teenage girls. (Happens more often than not.)

After a rescue scene where Alice (the generals’ daughter) is chased through the streets of Tokyo by a horde of vampires (Saya cuts through them as though they were a charging gang of sandwich-grade roast beef), she ultimately bonds with Saya, who tells her story. In a remarkable battle sequence, we get to see an old man take on a team of ninjas in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon style; He slices through more black-cloaked assassins than a Cuisinart™ infomercial.

But the biggest -- and best -- showdown is with Onigen, who holds a somewhat obvious secret over Saya. That revelation is nowhere as cool as the scuffle that starts with Onigen’s top vampire/winged gargoyle sent to intercept Saya and Alice. In a scene lifted directly from (but not as bitchin’ cool as) Underworld: Evolution, the flying reptile vampire attacks the girls driving through the mountains in a flatbed truck. The struggle sends the vehicle tumbling down a chasm, where it gets horizontally wedged while the disagreement continues. Alice, dangling over the side and hanging on for the ride, looks to fill her pants with fear. I would. Twice. Saya ain’t got time to dilly or daddle, so Wing Man is de-winged and the girls end up at the village where, 400 years ago, all the bad juju went down.

Onigen shows up and final fang-you begins. Stunning visuals, high-wire acrobatics, blistering sword play, spraying blood... It’s like they took a page out of my blog and filmed it. Saya would be a cool chick to go out with, but she’s too old for me. Though with vegetable-chopping skills like that, I could overlook it. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


TRICK ’R TREAT
(Warner Bros./2009)
Stars: Dylan Baker, Anna Paquin
Rating: ★★★

Filmed in a Tales From the Crypt comic book style, Trick ’r Treat plays as a dark horror comedy with five overlapping stories (think Pulp Fiction) that demonstrates the consequences of breaking Halloween traditions. The first one is that you don’t blow out the candle on a Jack-O-Lantern until Halloween is over. OK, I’m guilty of that. My bad. What can I say, hot pumpkins stink. Secondly, you’re not supposed to take your decorations down until Halloween is over. No problem there -- I usually leave mine up through Christmas. Thirdly, always check your candy. I trick-or-treat for booze, so unless it’s non-alcoholic beer the top comes off, followed by my pants.

Anyhow, the atmospheric stories all take place on the same Halloween night. The Principal revolves around a grade school principal whose homework includes pain, suffering and dismemberment. In that order.

Surprise Party is a hairy take on the Little Red Riding Hood tale, but this time with hot high school chicks. Let’s just say these girls don’t shave their legs.

This story is followed by The Halloween School Bus Massacre Revisited and the legend of a school bus driver who drops his mentally-handicapped kids off -- in the lake at the bottom of the quarry. (The reason why he did it is actually quite grim -- pay attention to this segment. I mean it.) Local kids round up eight pumpkins as a tribute of those that perished in the “crash.” It was supposed to be a trick played on one of the kids (a gal hinted at being mentally-challenged), but the tables are turned when the drowned students make their way back to the bus stop.

Meet Sam, the final -- and best -- story takes place at Old Man Kreeg’s house where Sam, the embodiment of Halloween (this kid is friggin’ creepy), shows up for his treat. Pet Semetary and the ankle tendon-slicing scene is given a tip of the hat here, while Sam reinforces Halloween’s lessons.

If you’re keeping track, all the characters show up in each other’s stories and give clues as to the secret of each. Very clever stuff. No nudity (dang it), lots of screaming (expected), gushes of blood (spills like a slashed trick-or-treat candy bag) and the smashing of pumpkins. Trick ’r Treat, seasonally appropriate and highly educational, could very well become the Charlie Brown Christmas for this and every Halloween. God bless us all.
-- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


SEVENTH MOON
(Lionsgate/2008)
Stars: Amy Smart, Dennis Chan
Rating: ★★1/2

American round eye Melissa finally talked Yul, her Chinese boyfriend, into marrying her. So hey, screw Hawaii and their stupid dolphins -- let’s honeymoon in China during the Hungry Ghost Festival. Their timing couldn’t be better. Not only is it the HGF, but one that lands on the seventh lunar month. And there’s a full moon, which, as everyone knows, adds a little something extra to the revelry.

A tour guide takes Mel and Yul one million miles out into the rural countryside to visit Yul’s relatives. It’s late, it’s dark and they’re lost. Or so the guide says. He gets out of the car to “find help” and doesn’t come back! So much for his tip. After an hour the couple get out and go looking for him. What they find is a small village with all the doors and windows locked, chained and boarded up. (Why all the drama? All they had to do was hang “Do Not Disturb” signs on the door knobs.)

Then they happen across an offering party arrangement: candles, banners, festive lighting, chickens, dogs, supermarket-ready pigs, all dead or half eaten. Turns out the Hungry Ghost Festival is aptly named. When you’re free from Hell to roam the Earth during the seventh lunar moon, you’re gonna be pretty darn ravenous. (Note: There are no Arby’s or 7-Eleven’s where they come from, which is why they call it Hell.)

Out of nowhere white hairless/clothesless ghouls with dark bloody mouths descend upon the hapless couple. They manage to get back in the car and take off through neck-high foliage, only to run over someone caught outside before, you know. Running to hide in a barn, the hungry ghouls track them down. There’s someone else in the barn -- yet another person who doesn’t want to be eaten alive. That attitude’s not really keeping in the spirit of the festival. He attacks Yul to throw him outside as an offering. But the ghouls break into the barn and...

One more time Mel and Yul escape, only to end up at a spooky house covered in seasonal candles with chanting going on. The place is filled with people just standing there, not saying or doing anything. Yep, these people sure know how to party. After drinking drugged tea, the couple are tied up in a bamboo cage outside where the ghouls show up for dinner where Yul is the main course. Melissa, though, is unharmed (she’s American and therefore not on the menu) and makes her way back to the house, only to find the guide that brought them here. He explains that every time the dead show up during the festival, they always take one of the living with them whether they want to go our not. That sucks. Finally fed up with losing tax payers, outsiders are brought here to fulfill the ghost dead’s appetites. If you’re an outsider, that sucks as well.

Melissa is not cool with this and wants to know what happened to Yul. Turns out the dead have taken him into a water-filled cave for his “final journey,” the ultimate last call. She goes to the cave, using only her cell phone as light. She encounters the ghouls, all standing silently, looking in one direction, which for once, isn’t at anything resembling food. She finds Yul chained up and he’s hairless, pasty-white with dark circles around his eyes and mouth. And yet she still wants to kiss him. Yuck is one of three things that just ran through my mind. He implores her to go. Good advice -- the ghouls are waking up.

Attempting to get back through the water cave, the dead see her and are thinking, hey -- dessert! Lost in the cave, she hears a voice. The tour guide, his conscience apparently getting the best of him, followed her and came to help. Good for her. Not so good for him. She barely makes it outside, only to have a football team of ghouls ready to stop her on the three-yard line. Only one thing can save her now. Hint: It’s not Yul, guns or exploding candles.

Seventh Moon, directed by Blair Witch co-creator Eduardo Sanchez, has requisite tension and cool ghouls, but the camera work is so shaky as to give you the festival spins. And almost everything is shot in pitch black darkness, so it’s hard to see much of the action. Still, it’s way better than that Blair Witch piece of crap. (Hell, The Muppets Go To Hollywood was scarier than Blair Witch.) Most of the movie is a chase scene, but it does have its party moments. Just don’t blame me if the dead don’t eat you -- maybe they only have a taste for Chinese.
-- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


SHIVER
(Dark Sky Films/2008)
Stars: Junio Valverde, Blanca Suárez
Rating: ★

Another weird one. And by weird, I mean confusing, non-scary, upside-down and loaded with dumb-assery. A Spanish teen just moved into the hood with his mother in a house so far out in the woods, even bugs won’t go there. He thinks he’s a vampire and even dreams of being caught in the daylight, his skin burning like deep-fryer oil. There is no explanation as to why he’s sun-phobic, other than to set him up as a bully target at school. Can’t blame them -- the kid has wimp written all over him.

Soon local animals and a shepherd and even a schoolmate all turn up deader than the town’s nightlife, throats torn into Shredded Wheat™, but with more stringy tendons than you get in a large box. Everybody (me included) thinks Santi (the emo “vampire” kid) is responsible. He’s not -- but he might know who did.

There’s a creature in the woods that zooms around ripping throats apart. Sasquatch? Nope. A bear with a taste for huckleberries and human flesh? Not quite. Extraterrestrials looking for new orifices to “examine”? Not this time. A...vampire? Ha -- you are SO wrong. It’s a little girl who, after getting lost in the woods while in Africa, raises herself and eventually gets brought back to Spain. Later she witnesses her parents being violently killed, which drove her mad. So she’s dumped into an orphanage where she kills and maims the Sisters at the Nun School For The Ferally-Challenged. Back to the woods with you, you mangy pup.

In an effort to clear his name of the murders and solve the mystery, Santi, a school buddy and the police detective’s daughter (whose hot for Santi, probably because he has Hot Topic™ vibes) go into the woods to find this eater of necks. While there they trip over a village secret that threatens to tear the whole town into remorseful serving portions. The feral girl does her bit on the man who killed her parents, Santi discovers he’s not a vampire, but hates the sun all the same, his mom is visibly relieved and a little blood gets spilled.

Scary? Nope. Suspenseful. Nope. Broadway-caliber acting. Um...yes. OK, no. Worth renting? Only if you’re an emo wannabe vampire with crybaby tendencies when exposed to the sun. Wussy. — Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]

PANDORUM
(Overture Films/2009)
Stars: Dennis Quaid, Ben Foster
Rating: ★★1/2

The Elysium is a 60,000 passenger space ship/motel that’s 500 million miles from Earth. So much for remembering where you parked the car. Two astronauts awake from hyper-sleep (like regular sleep but with no neighbors arguing to wake you up) to discover they don’t know who they are or where they are, which accurately describes the morning after a Jager bender. Slowly their mind yarn begins to re-spool and off one of ’em goes to find the ships nuclear reactor to power up the restrooms and such. What they find is that the ship is overrun by mutated versions of themselves.

But I’m warp-factoring way ahead of myself. Earth was over-populated and eventually blew up. These 60,000 people were headed towards an Earth-like planet way the freakin' heck out there, so they had to sleep for the journey. Prior to mega-nap time, each were given genetic enhancements to help them once they landed on... Crap, I cannot for the genetic-enhanced life of me remember the planet’s name. I suppose I could look it up on the internet, but that just seems like work.

Anyway, the mutations were the result of the gene therapy adapting itself to the ship’s condition instead of the new world they were to have landed on. These creatures are pasty-white, slimy, super-strong, super fast, below-average hygiene and addicted to survivor flesh. Several of those food types are discovered still keeping out of teeth’s length of the creatures.

And if that wasn’t enough, a condition known as Pandorum -- a pronounced form of space insanity -- is beginning to set in on Lt. Payton, the head guy. We learn that a while back another head guy, Gallo, went off his launch pad when he found out Earth did the big ka-BOOM and killed off his entire crew by launching their sleep capsules into the bottomless galaxy. Thankfully, there’s a grim twist to all of this as you kinda get bored watching people running away from the creatures, who all look like Road Warrior extras.

The moon clock is ticking as the reactor is beginning its self-destruct phase. So, like, that lights yet another fire under everyone’s asteroids. Two things are discovered: The ship was already on the planet (just in the ocean) and those on board have been there for almost 1,000 years, which explains the fully-formed evolution.

So now what? Hotel Elysium is about to blow up. They’re deep in the sea without a paddle. Lt. Payton is in the throes of Pandorum. The creatures are closing in. And the air stinks. (In space no one can hear you fart, but they can certainly smell it.) All of this sounds pretty cool, but for some reason it’s just a big “been-there-seen-that” meh.

Nice visuals, but I just wasn’t feeling the love from the mutants. You might be able to figure out the ending, but if not, don’t worry -- it’s just a touch of Pandorum. Take two lunar Tylenols and call me in the Millennium.
-- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


THE WILD MAN OF NAVIDAD
(IFC Films/2008)
Stars: Justin Meeks, Tony Wolford
Rating: ★

Based on a TRUE story, The Wild Man of Navidad (filmed ’70s style) is a retro re-telling of The Legend of Boggy Creek, that 1972 cult Bigfoot-esque movie. The reason I say Bigfoot-esque is that the monster -- while drawing inspiration from the Foot of Big -- was referred to as the “Fouke Monster.” Don’t believe me? Then fouke you.

In the small unwashed Texas town of Sublime a horrible secret exists. (Guess what it is. No, guess.) The residents are hard-core rednecks, hunting “bucks” (deer, for those of you who don’t speak redneck) and drinking homemade moonshine that tastes like floor cleaner. (I made some based on their techniques - it’s friggin’ awful. At first.)

Anyway, some guy named Dale owns a farm with his stroke-paralyzed wife and Mario, a Mexican “caregiver” who sexually abuses her. Dale is nervous and looks worried all the time (probably because of the way Mario looks at him). Every night Dale takes a skinned rabbit out of the cupboard, puts it on the back porch and listens as the Wild Man comes to pick up his order to go. WM also leaves a tip: a tooth necklace.

Losing his job as a welder forces Dale to open up his 600-acre farm land for rental hunting purposes, which puts a bunch of drunk hunters right in Wild Man’s cul-de-sac. Taking a bullet, Wild ’n Screamy is wounded -- and gruntingly pissed. To illustrate his upsetedness, the creature goes to Dale’s house and wrecks stuff. I don’t care if you’re a “wild” man or not, that is simply not cool.

Then hunters get attacked, guts get strewn about and the locals finally decide to form a hunting party or “Texas Prom Dance.” They chase Wild Nav down, shoot him, hang him up in the middle of town -- with his tooth exposed and everything. Even in broad daylight no one can figure out what he/it is. But it has big tusks. Maybe it’s a land walrus. I’m fresh outta ideas here.

In summation, Wild Man grunts like a razorback, damages stuff, runs through the bushes, eats skinned animals (because fur tends to get caught on his tooth) and disembowels red necks, tossing entrails around as if in a spaghetti throwing competition. This stuff is OK. This isn’t: Wildy is dressed in what looks to be piles of dirty laundry. No big hairy creature that smells like freshness-expired skunk. Just an overturned laundry basket as a fright fashion statement. Why is it that the star of the show is always the one they spend the least money on? That’s like going to Disneyland, only to see Mickey running around with plastic ears. Crap. The hick locals they cast as extras were far more frightening. (Don’t people in Texas ever brush their teeth?)

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking my dirty laundry down to the river and shooting it. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


ART OF THE DEVIL
(Tokyo Shock/2005)
Stars: Supakson Chaimongkol, Isara Ochakul
Rating: ★1/2

Boom is an old-enough-to-have-sex supermodel hot Thai gal who tries to blackmail her wealthy boyfriend into giving her money for knocking her up. Problem is, he’s married and has a family. He gives her some money, but it’s just not enough. So she resorts to voodoo to get it. Hell hath no fury like a supermodel scorned.

Enlisting the black magic skills of a local barber by day and voodoo master by later in the day, she puts the ex in expire. But Boom wants it ALL. So she goes after his family by hooking up with the eldest soon, pretending to get pregnant and then, during their wedding day, makes him throw up a whole pile of razor blades, which predictably kills him. (I’m no expert, but aren’t those things supposed to be used on the outside of the stomach?)

Flashbacks abound with the character-heavy story showing how she was hit by a van and lost her baby. She later gives the fetus to the voodoo barber who puts it on his black magic hibachi during a ceremony. I could’ve done without seeing that. Then the ghosts of everyone she’s made throw up nails and sharp stuff comes back to warn that everyone else is gonna die. Ghosts can be such pessimists.

There’s also an albino little girl ghost that befriends (for now) the family’s little boy. A priest brought in to cleanse the house give her the thumbs up, saying she’s a benevolent spirit and just wants to play. Yeah, play with your brains, maybe.

Blood flows all over everyone’s white clothes, which is a nice contrast. Boom finds out in the end it’s not nice to kill people with the Black Arts. Anyone else left standing, well, their wounds will heal in time for the sequel. As for the barber, I wonder how much he charges for a little off the top? -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


GRACE
(Anchor Bay/2009)
Stars: Jordan Ladd, Gabrielle Rose
Rating: ★★★

The first two pregnancies for Michael and Madeline Matheson (way too many m’s in their names) did not go well, with Madeline unable to carry to term. Maybe this is why she’s hell bent on going the distance, even though her third time at bat ended in a strike-out. A car accident took her husband out of the equation and left the fetus dead inside her, but she’s insisting on delivering the child stillborn. Ick.

So Madeline carries it around for a month until, in a painful-to-watch birth scene, deliveries a baby girl. Guess what? The kid ain’t dead. This baffles the midwife (a former lesbian lover) and her mother-in-law, a brow-beating circuit judge who is so overcome with grief of losing her son, she needs a replacment. Hmmm, where can she get a new kid at this hour? All the stores are closed and...

Madeline, however, is discovering Grace, her “not-dead-and-yet...” daughter, is hungry. All the time. Breast-feeding results in open wound perma-hickeys and severe blood loss. Grace smells eye-wateringly ripe, even though her britches remain unsoiled. There are so many flies in the baby’s room, Madeline has to hang a dozen pest strips from the ceiling and cover the crib with a mosquito net. (I wonder if they make those things with Sesame Street characters on ’em, ’cause that’d be so cute.)

With no more blood left and Grace bellyaching for more, mom goes to the store, buys five rump roasts, squeezes the blood out of ’em and feeds it to Grace. Yeah, things get even darker than that. Judge mother-in-law strikes a shady deal with her doctor to get the baby put in her custody and... Let’s just say having a new visitor over is like having groceries delivered.

Then Judge-in law makes the mistake of trying to take Grace out of the house. Let’s just say she’s been overruled. If you’re a dude, watching all this birthing and blood is an uncomfortable experience. And yet you can’t quit looking at it. When you think things are over, a seriously gruesome twist at the end will have you audibly saying stuff like, “No freakin’ way did that just happen!” and “Dude, that is so messed up!” If you’re like me you’ll need diapers after watching Grace. Wonder if they come in extra-large? -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


GHOST TRAIN
(ADV Films/2006)
Stars: Erika Sawajiri, Chinatsu Wakatsuki
Rating: ★1/2

If you find a boarding pass on the Tokyo suburb commuter train platform where people spit and walk with Shiatsu poop on their shoes, DON’T PICK IT UP. Besides countless germs, a ghost lady will appear and say, “Give me what is mine,” and you’ll become a ghost, too. But not just a regular ghost, but one with evil eyes, evil dark circles under said eyes and pale white onion skin.

Such is the premise of the Japanese thriller, Ghost Train. Nana, a high school student, has a little sister. Up until today, anyway. Her sister found the boarding pass at the station and the next day she was gone. The day before that another little kid vanished. In fact, a bunch of people have gone missing over the years. This explains why in a busy station appears to be empty most of the time. Reviewing the security tapes officials notice a shadowy figure stalking the victims. They explain the aberration as a trick of the light. Yeah, a trick of the light that will EAT YOUR BRAINS.

There’s a whole lot of blah, blah, blah before the story finally starts to unfold: years ago a woman with child was pushed onto the tracks. Her baby popped out, but the woman died. So now the woman has come back to get what’s hers. Hmm, wonder what that could be? In a search for her little sister, Nana (who is really hot, but has a gaping space between two teeth on the left side of her face, your right-hand side if you’re thinking about making out with her) uncovers more clues and goes into the train tunnel to solve the mystery.

As with most Japanese horror movies, things move so freakin’ slow, you’ll actually want to take up reading. Don’t do that just yet as the pay-off is always in the last 10 minutes.

Finding a hole in the tunnel wall, Nana ventures forth to find more labyrinth tunnels. It’s here she finds her sister -- on top of a literal mountain of dead bodies. Then the ghost woman shows up. Then the bodies come alive. Then the bodies crawl like arthritic spiders after them. A conductor friend helps them to escape and gets them aboard a train he just happened to have parked nearby. The bodies crawl all over the tracks in turtle-speed pursuit. Time to hit the gas. While you don’t get to see the bodies crushed and munched under the train wheels, you get to hear it. Sounds like a bowl of screaming Rice Krispies™ played through a public address system.

There’s a one-eyed woman whose young son was lost to the ghost woman, so she’s gooned out. More so when she finds out ghost woman was/is related to her (guess). No blood, some ghost stuff, really tedious pacing. Horror-lite for wussies. I should go haunt the train station and say, “Give me what is mine,” which is a refund.
-- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 2, Hairball Media]


DEATHWATCH
(Lionsgate/2002)
Stars: Jamie Bell, Rúaidhrí Conroy
Rating: ★★1/2

During the first of many World Wars, the few last standing soldiers of a 1917 British Infantry (Y Company in case you’re writing this down) come cross a whole bunch of German trenches. And we know what Germans do in trenches (wipe your feet, fellas).

There’s a few Germans left hanging around, but they’ve been scared out of their Lederhosen by something else in the maze of trenches. And that something is ghosts, or as the Germans call them, “Der Spookens.” (OK, I don’t know if they really call ’em that.) Night is coming so they hunker in the bunker, only to get glimpses of what looks to be a barb-wire ghost. Where you’d think most ghosts would be smooth, this one is pointy.

Slowly the men start breaking down and dying at the spectral hands of pointy ghost. Or so it seems. One war-crazed soldier gets harsh-mangled by barb-wire and explodes(!) There has to be a connection, but what? Most of the set-up is of the soldiers losing their minds. The ghost stuff is more psychological than physical, because ghosts are no longer physical. The cold and the mud and the sheer raggedness of the men amplify the evil thing in the trenches that is making them kill each other. And yet here they stay despite the evil thing. If it was me I’d erhalten sie die hölle heraus. (German for “run like hölle.”)

Above average war ghost evil kill thing movie. And hey, Germans! -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 2, Hairball Media]


MUTANT
Liberation Cult/1984)
Stars: Bo Hopkins, Wings Hauser
Rating: ★★

A new packaging re-release of another one ’o those ’80s schlocky cult favs, given cheesy charm by David Hasselhoff looke-alike Wings Hauser and chemically-altered ghouls with light blue skin, heavy Goth eye makeup and banana-colored pudding blood.

Two city brothers end up in a small southern redneck town where their kind ain’t welcome. Run off the road by a truckload of articulate in-breds, the brothers later find themselves in bar brawl knife fight --- with the same guys. They also find a body with open sores on his/her face (hard to tell with all that goo leaking out). Staying the night in a Bed & Breakfast, the younger brother is grabbed by something with smoking hands and is subsequently extinguished.

In his quest to locate his brother, the older one goes around town, finds himself a girlfriend and gets into more fights with the rednecks, or “Texas Welcoming Committee.” While this is going on, the locals are being converted into pasty-face ghouls with a taste for living lasagna. Wings Hauser (the older brother), has zombie resistant hair. (I wonder what kind of product he uses?) And his girlfriend looks like Jessica Simpson, but with six or seven additional teeth. Bodies filled with baby poop yellow gook are discovered and the drunk sheriff (played by the eternally typecast Bo Hopkins) can’t get the Feds to come check out his Zombie Town.

The ghouls are somewhat entertaining, turning blue with skin bubbling like soup under rotting skin. For some reason not related to lack of toothbrush use, their teeth become black and they claw at the air like a cat pawing at an invisible scratch post.

Guns will take ’em down, as will flame, so like, that’s good. The light hurts their eyes, though. (Since they’re dead, they probably forgot about using protective eyewear.) The ghouls corner the survivors over and over again: In a school bathroom, a doctor’s office, a gas station... Persistance beats resistance.

Help arrives, but are they in time? Will the ghouls mess up Wings’ hair? Will his younger beef cake brother ever button his shirt back up? Will the rednecks get a lesson in city etiquette? I don’t care -- I just wanted to watch zombies eat people. And to comb my hair to look like Wings’. -- Jeff Gilbert

P.S. This DVD cover art posted here depicts a potentially cool monster. This is not the case. The monsters are regular people with face herpes. One zombie dude runs around wearing glasses. As in life, as in death.

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


DEMON WARRIORS
(Magnolia Pictures/2007)
Stars: Putthipong Swriwat, Nirut Sirichanya
Rating: ★★★

This Thai movie’s title is misleading. There aren’t any “warriors” in this unique and explosively violent horror moving picture show. There are, however, 20-something street thugs who are prone to violent temper tantrums and who also happened to have special powers given to them by...HELL.

These guys are a collective of gangsta demons called Opapatikas. Each suffers the pain of purgatory by way of the sin of committing suicide (the only way to get to Hell). One guy gets to kill anyone he wants, but every wound he inflicts on others shows up on his body. His torso is covered in shattered glass scar tissue and probably pimples. Another guy can summon his inner demon (who looks really f’d up as well) to leave his body and fly around, ripping faces into portions of human macaroni.

Then there’s Detective Techit, one of the rare few who, after voluntarily committing suicide in order to go to Hell to arrest the Opapatikas, can aquire powers as well. His is the power of mind-reading. Problem is, every time he uses his power, he loses one of his five senses. He doesn’t care because he’s on a mission and he’s a dead ringer for Bruce Lee, circa 1972. That’s gotta count for something.

In the background of all this is Master Sadok, who requires Techit to bring to him the Opapatikas. Sadok has a power as well -- when he eats an Opapatikas’ heart, he gains their powers. But nobody knows that. Yet. See where this is going? A tacticle team of ninja military assassins pursue the Opapatikas relentlessly -- and are slaughtered. Relentlessly. If you thought they wasted bullets in The Matrix, that was nothing but a BB Gun demonstration compared to what you’ll see here. There are four such mega-gun battles, riddled (sorry) with high-wire flying, slick machete-hacking manuevers and blood spraying as though shot from a satanic high-pressure hose.

Hell is just like Earth (no surprise there), except it’s unoccupied save for the “warriors” and those trying to bullet hole them. Entire apartment buildings and city blocks are run down and probably stinky, but soon to get a coat of human paint. So much hemoglobin is spilled, you could do a primer and double coat on pretty much everything.

Sadok’s body is in a constant state of rotting, so he needs the Opapatikas sooner than later in order to keep surviving. Can’t really blame him. The Opapatikas, though, are restlessly violent and impervious to mortal wounds/bullet holes, which makes one wonder why everyone has guns. Following the story is butt ass complicated, but fortunately there’s enough graphic gore and battling to keep you from thinking too hard. Now if I could just pronounce “Opapatikas” I’d be all set. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


NO MAN’S LAND: THE RISE OF REEKER
(Ghost House Underground/2008)
Stars: Robert Pine, Valerie Cruz
Rating: ★★★

The sequel/prequel to Reeker (2005), we’re treated to a wickedly graphic and nicely-staged opening sequence involving a strange desert hitchhiker and what appears to be a hairless salesman. (Clearly he wasn't selling hair grooming products.) Set in 1978, this opener fills in the backstory as to the origins of the Reeker. Seems there’s a nasty ass serial killer referred to as the Death Valley Drifter, a guy who harvests body appendages and heads like one would collect, say, snow globes.

Keeping his collection in a ramshackle shack in the middle of a Texan desert, the decomposing, desert sun-heated body parts are enough to stink up everything from Amarillo to Corpus Cristi. A lucky break in the case has Officer Reed apprehending this ripper-upper of flesh. It’s here we learn that the DVD (Death Valley Drifter, not Digital Video Disc) is but one in a long line of killers “sent” here to, um, kill. He’s electrocuted, but comes back four decades later to tidy up some unfinished business.

Jump ahead forty years and Sheriff Reed (he got a promotion for cracking the case) is on the last day on the job before retiring. Replacing him is his estranged son, an L.A. cop who wants to shoot everything he’s so darn unhappy. The diner and the motel (used in the first movie) also star. Three casino robbers show up while on the run, with one guy in the back seat mortally wounded (I’m guessing by gunfire). And who should be working at the diner but one of the robber’s ex-girlfriends. And like all ex-girlfriends, she has issues. Then Reeker shows up. Then all stink Hell breaks loose.

Walking lower torsos, heads cut in half but still working, talking roasted chickens, and of course, Reeker doing his power tool massages on anybody with a body. There’s an invisible shield around the entire area, which prevents cops and robbers from leaving. I don’t know what it’s made out of because it’s INVISIBLE. The cops, ex-girlfriend and the ex-boyfriend criminal have to work together to get the Hell out of Dodge (or in this case, the Dodge out of Hell). The plan is to lure Reeky (who phases in and out of another dimension) into the open, then blast him to smithereens by way of a propane storage tank. You’d think you would know what happens next, but you’re so wrong as to be incorrect.

A trick twist ending turns the stink finger right back at you. No Man’s Land: The Rise of Reeker could’ve easily stunk to high Heaven, but did not due to clever scripting, a cool villain, non-insulting dialogue, and splendiferous gore. I’d say it smells like bean spirit. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


FIDO
(Lionsgate/2006)
Stars: Carrie-Anne Moss, Billy Connolly
Rating: ★★★★

The town of Willard looks straight out of the Fifties, with gleaming Packards and Chryslers, gorgeous dress-wearing wives who meet their husbands at the door with martinis, polite kids that could’ve been recruited from Leave It To Beaver (except that Eddie Haskell troublemaker).

There’s white picket fences, flower-lush yards...and rotted zombies. Yep, thanks to an electronic dog collar that keeps them from craving flesh, zombies have been more or less domesticated and sold as butlers, maids, landscapers, paperboys, and even undead milk men.

Thank Zomcon for the advancements in science. After a radiation cloud settled over earth and reanimated the dead, the great Zombie Wars ensued. Mankind eventually won, but lingering radioactivity keeps bring the dead back to life. Small towns are barricaded behind prison-style chain-link fencing and flourish in the bright sunshine of freedom. (Think Pleasantville with walking corpses.)

Outside the fence is the Wild Zone where people are banished for breaking the law (walking your zombie without a leash, burying the dead without a special permit, letting your zombie eat your neighbor). Life is good. Then the Robinsons get their first zombie because everyone else on the block has one. Timmy, the young son, doesn’t like his zombie at first, but gains a new pal when the creature saves him from getting his ass kicked by two local bullies. Now they’re best friends until death and... Oops, the zombie just ate old lady Henderson after she whacked him with her walker and malfunctioned his behavior collar. Zombie extremism is about to come down.

The uncontrolled undead are on the loose inside the town of Willard. Fortunately, the head of Zomcon lives down the street and has things well in hand. Or does he? Carrie-Anne Moss is drop dead (sorry) gorgeous as Timmy’s mom and soon grows quite fond of Fido, the family zombie. Dad just wants to play golf and plan his guaranteed zombie-free funeral. (He wants a head casket, wherein the head is separated from the body so the corpse won’t come back to life.)

Once Fido is determined to be Mrs. Henderson’s attacker, he’s taken away from Timmy. If you think you can predict where this thing is going, YOU’RE WRONG. Funnier than hell (when Fido goes for help to rescue Timmy), sharp dialogue (“Honey, don’t play baseball by yourself -- it just makes you look lonely”) and some satisfying flesh-eating scenes (the Mrs. Henderson blue-haired special), Fido is a remarkably fresh take on the fast-rotting zombie theme. The bachelor next-door-neighbor and his love zombie Tammy will have you in stitches. But it’s Carrie-Anne Moss and Fido himself that steal the show. Friggin’ cool, this one. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 2, Hairball Media]


EVIL (TO KAKO)
(Danger After Dark/2005)
Stars: Meletis Georgiadis, Argiris Thanasoulas
Rating: ★1/2

This is allegedly the first Greek zombie movie ever made. I don’t think so. Anyone recall My Big Fat Greek Wedding? That thing was full of zombies.

Three construction workers discover a huge cave, no doubt loaded with EVIL. They go home, not remembering how they got there or out of the cave, for that matter. All three go off to do stuff: Attend a nightclub, a chariot race, uh, football game, and watching the chariot races..., uh, football game on TV. Then they look like they’re about to barf. But they don’t. They bite the person to their immediate left, thereby turning that person into a flesh-eating zombie in less time than it takes to toast “ya’sou!” at a big fat Greek wedding. Soon everybody’s doing the bite-your-face thing and before you know it, another trend burns itself out.

A cabbie and several un-zombie’d spend the next hour running and battling zombies. But mostly running. Loads of dark humor in this flesh-fest, including heads that leak Silly Putty™when crushed, heads that split in two like bleeding bakery-fresh bread right out of the oven, heads that come off as easily as if the supporting neck were made of clay... There is no story, just running and biting and body parts flinging all over the place.

The multitudes of zombies converge on the last four survivors. The last remaining unbitten's strategy? Run out onto a chariot...uh, football field, put backs together, lock arms and wait. The final shot, though, is pretty darn cool. The camera rises, oh, about a Roman mile into the sky, showing zombies pouring into the stadium -- without a ticket -- like ants crawling all over a picnic watermelon.

Funny stuff, that. Lots of splatter, but nothing else that matters. Not a total waste of time, but it is sub-titled. If I wanted to read I’d go to a library. Whatever that is. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


GEORGE A. ROMERO’S DIARY OF THE DEAD
(Dimension Extreme/2007)
Stars: Michelle Morgan, Josh Close
Rating: ★

George Romero, the guy who all but invented zombies (sorry, voodoo witch doctors -- you’ve been served), returns with yet another entree to his living dead menu (Night of, Dawn of, Day of, Land of), and made Diary of the Dead after watching others clean up on his legacy (28 Days Later, Shaun of the Dead, Flight of the Living Dead, raw meat display cases full of cash-in remakes...). Problem is, ’ol George forgot how to make zombies rock.

In an opening sequence that’s both confusing and shockless, we see the dead returning to life (which is what they’re paid to do). This is all documented by hand-held cameras, a YouTube™ technique that’s really wearing thin. A group of college students and their alcoholic over-enunciating teacher are making a horror movie when they learn the dead are eating the living. They jump into a handy RV and set out to find their families -- conveniently located one million miles away.

This sets up paint-by-numbers zombie encounters, none of which are particularly graphic, juicily lurid or inspired. (A deaf Amish farmer fighting off the dead? Gimme a break.) Recording the “action” with a camera that has more battery power than my car, the emotionally-detached student never flinches when he films several of his zombie-bitten friends coming back to life and having his other friends shoot them in the face. In fact, he keeps everything all in frame. And focused. And well-lit.

Predictably, the camera guy gets bitten, so the chick who’s been bitching at him the entire movie to turn the camera off, films him dying then coming back to life. Yep, that’s what we in the industry call situational irony.

The gore is both dumb (handy sword(!) to the head, splitting it like an over-priced cantaloupe) and phoned-in (been there, bit that). The zombies, as dull as they are, have more life in them than the characters. This one should be titled, Diary of the Dud. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 2, Hairball Media]


DARK FLOORS
(Ghost House Underground/2008)
Stars: Metal band Lordi, victims
Rating: ★1/2

Dark Floors (crappy title) started out good: An autistic girl in a wheelchair with supernatural precognitive abilities, and who is also pretty good with a crayon; A desperate dad trying to find out why his daughter loves crayons more than him; A nurse, an uptight guy holding several teddy bears(!), a bum that’s been dead for a few weeks (but still an an engaging conversationalist), and a security guard, all trapped in a parallel dimension in a hospital that’s inhabited by heavy metal creatures from beyond.

The little girl’s drawings hint of scariness nearby. As usual, no one is paying attention to the crayon. Big mistake. All are caught between floors in a hospital elevator, a metaphor for being caught between Heaven and Heck. When the elevator resumes going down, the doors open to reveal an abandoned, dilapidated medical center that has stairs going further into the blackened blackness, or “dark floors.”

Once there they encounter a ghost. Kinda cool, but nothing you wouldn’t find in a median-priced haunted house. Where things fall apart is with the appearance of a monstrous creature wearing a leather jacket, a gold necklace(!) and a nose ring. This creature grunts and growls like a constipated walrus and charges after anything human, which is, for now, everyone. From here it’s just a cat-and-mouse runaround, with people getting monster’d every few minutes.

An encounter with yet another heavy metal demon ends in similar results. Outside the rain and lightning are stopped as if time itself has been frozen into popsicle seconds. The monsters want the little girl, though it’s not explained why. She wants more crayons, but again -- no explanation other than to further her budding art career. The creatures are not explained, either, reducing the whole gummed-up story into a puddle of “huh?”

Dark Floors ends on a flat note, the girl survives and the rain and lightning go back to doing whatever it is they do. Uncommonly high production values for a low-budget movie, but the story goes in concentric circles. The heavy metal Finnish band Lordi play themselves (minus the guitars), but monsters wearing gold necklaces just ain’t cuttin’ it. Now if they were running around with really sharp crayons in their claws... -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


MALIBU SHARK ATTACK
(Limelight International/2009)
Stars: Peta Wilson, Warren Christie
Rating: ★

Underwater earthquakes off the coast of California release a school of prehistoric sharks hell bent on eating anything wearing a bikini. These Goblin sharks do a LOT of gobblin’: Surfers, skin divers, swimmers -- anything that rhymes with food. So what were the sharks doing for a million years while buried under the ocean? Playing cards, would be my guess. Probably "Go Fish." Don’t give me that look -- that joke was gold.

Malibu Beach is teeming with hard-bodied babes in micro-bikinis and Baywatch-worthy lifeguards, with the exception of head guard Peta Wilson (League of Extraordinary Gentlemen), who looks like their den mother. The earthquakes cause a tsunami, which obliterates the entire California coast. But in a genius move four lifeguards and two beachers make it into a lifeguard stand and ride out the Big Wave. Nevermind that the lifeguard stand is basically painted balsa wood that manages to take a direct hit from the wave without snapping into toothpicks, or that the tsunami crushes EVERYTHING else into smush.

The survivors (for now) are trapped in the shelter with Goblin sharks swimming around them. Brilliant, I tell you! The sharks are blind, but can sense electrical impulses, savory blood, clam farts, etc., so they launch a coordinated attack through the floor, scoring one lifeguard appetizer. Meanwhile, a construction site nearby (also almost underwater) finds a bite-sized motorboat and heads to the survivors (now minus one). They do this because the head construction guy is engaged to Peta. (In a cruel plot twist, her ex is one of the other lifeguards.)

Everybody not yet gobbled gets on the boat and heads for the shore. The gas runs out. Their luck runs out. Drifting back to the construction site, they’re attacked again, but one guy offers himself up as distraction bait. ( He did this because his girlfriend was the lifeguard earlier eaten before his very eyes and he is somewhat depressed about it -- for about ten more seconds.)

Everyone (almost) gets inside, but the place is half underwater, which means there are sharks -- Goblin sharks, as it turns out -- swimming the hallways. But what is a construction site if not a convenient source of concrete cutters, chainsaws and other gasoline-powered sharp things? The sharks meet their destiny at the end of a Black & Decker™ chainsaw (B&D should use that in their marketing brochures.)

If you haven’t Googled ’em, Goblin sharks have cartoonish protruding snouts, which look like novelty-store noses. Only thing missing is over-sized eye-glasses and squirting flowers on their lapels. They look stupid. The whole movie is stupid. I’m stupid. Oh, yeah? Well, so are you. So there. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


FRIDAY THE 13TH
(New Line Cinema/2009)
Stars: Jared Padalecki, Danielle Panabaker
Rating: ★1/2

If a teen was attacked in the woods by a hockey-masked killer with a machete and no one was around to hear it, would the teen make a screaming sound? OK, how about this: If a remake is made from a movie that has 10 sequels -- all of which having the exact same plot -- is it worth watching? The answer to the second one at least is hell no. And yet, I watched it all the same. Pity.

This pointless franchise entry proposes to flesh out the face behind the world’s most famous hockey mask. So yawning what? No one cares about Jason Voorhee’s back story as we’ve seen it a dozen times already.

A loner guy arrives at Crystal Lake to look for his sister who disappeared without a trace while camping (i.e., having outdoor sex) there. My first thought was that she was eaten by bears, seeing how the movie takes place in the woods where bears pretty much eat whatever/whomsoever they want. As it turns out, Jason took her. (Probably to eat her.) A bunch of incredibly obnoxious (and horny) teens go to Crystal Lake to score marijuana that was planted in the woods, probably by bears and... Never mind.

Once there, Jason begins his one-on-one slaughter onslaught. Jason looks like he’s been on the Jenny Craig™ weight-loss program, looking leaner, meaner and ready to chop off weiners. (Sorry -- that was the only associated word I could think of that rhymes.) The dialogue is asinine. (Example while two teens are having sex: “You have great nipple placement!” I thought I was the only one who said stuff like that.)

The brother eventually finds his sister alive (with no as-yet visible bear marks) in Jason’s basement. So hockey fanatic Jason chases all of them and gets hacked with his own machete. But you knew this was the outcome because you’ve seen it over and over for three decades. (The first Friday the 13th came out in 1980 -- do the math.)

No character development, no real upgrading of the plot, no getting your money back. But hey -- Jason’s nothing if not consistent. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]


THE UNBORN
(Rogue Pictures/2009)
Stars: Odette Yustman, Gary Oldman
Rating: ★1/2

Strangled by his twin sister’s belly button extension cord while in the womb without a view, Jumby was stillborn -- something he’s still ticked off about. His sister made it out alive and grows up to be a supermodel-worthy college hottie who walks around in Victoria’s Secret panties (page nine of the summer catalog / 3 for $30). This is a plot device that never gets old.

Lately, though, she’s been having real-time nightmares of a back-from-the-dead zombie Jumby (dumb name -- he should be thankful he wasn’t born). Note: Though DOA, Zombie Jumby is portrayed to be about 8-years-old. How the Hell does that work?

The kid she baby-sits keeps showing up and doing the spooky trance thing, declaring Jumby wants to be born right the screaming heck now. Then she finds out she was a twin and that her mother committed suicide in an insane asylum over Jumby’s less-than-spectacular debut. Throw in a ridiculously reaching back story involving a family curse, Nazis and a demon wanting revenge and you have one fright-less turd of a “horror thriller.”

The chills and spook moments are so stock as to have been photocopied. The ONLY best parts -- a paraplegic old man and a dog turning their heads upside down and spider-walking in your general direction -- give one hope that the pay-off will dispel any Netflix renter’s remorse. It doesn’t.

A Jewish exorcism with Gary Oldman as the “spiritual advisor” is so clumsy, I could’ve done a better job (and even given them a discount as business has been slow lately). While more a face/underwear model than an actress, Odette Yustman (Cloverfield) is a dead ringer (ahem) for The Day The Earth Stood Still starlet Jennifer Connelly, so that’s a good thing. Everything else, not so much. -- Jeff Gilbert

[reprinted by permission, Drinkin' & Drive-in Vol. 3, Hairball Media]