Child's Play 3

Director: Jack Bender (1991)
Starring: Justin Whalin, Perry Reeves, Brad Dourif
Find it: IMDB

Not long ago, I revisited Rob Zombie's Halloween films, and was jolly surprised to find that the opinions of my 21-year-old self weren't quite as reliable as I believed them to be. To be frank, 21-year-old Porkhead was kind of a ballbag. Well, he was the sort of dude who'd call his blog 'Porkhead's Horror Review Hole'. What do you expect? In eager anticipation of the latest Child's Play reboot/sequel, I found myself watching all of the old Chucky films. Which, in turn, led me to revisit Child's Play 3, and my old review thereof.

I'm not the sort to leave things be. I'm too laid-back to be a perfectionist, but I expect I'll always be revising these reviews, fixing grammatical errors, re-evaluating old opinions and adding in a new favourite swear word or two here and there. And, in the case of Child's Play 3, I'll be fucking horrified by what I find. "This reviewer is one hell of a troller," says one commenter, below. He's not wrong, although I was 21, so maybe cut me a little slack. I take umbrage with the word 'butthurt' too. Mostly because it's a stupid word, but also because I've never really given enough of a shit about the Child's Play franchise to get 'butthurt' about it. I'd venture so far as to say that the only 'butthurt' one is the one angry enough to call the reviewer 'butthurt' in the first place. Which, in turn, got me 'butthurt' enough to issue this rebutt(hurt)al. What the fuck does 'butthurt' even mean, anyway?     

Ho, on to the review, and my re-evaluation therein. As with my revisited review of Halloween, only a few sentences of my original text remain. Certainly not that whole paragraph where I repeatedly referred to Justin Whalin as 'Jimmy fucking Olsen', or the bit where I called Chucky's plan 'retarded'. Christ, 21-year-old me was the sort of reviewer who used the word 'retarded' in his writing. I shudder. At least it's not 'shit feast' though. And I did manage to keep the animal ball-sucking references to a minimum.

Anyhow, in Child's Play 3, we find that little Andy Barclay has grown up to be Jimmy Olsen from Lois & Clark, the crap Superman TV series.  Obviously the director decided that he didn’t really care whether we root for poor Andy anymore (not that I ever did), because everyone hates that particular Jimmy Olsen. As such, the biggest problem with Child’s Play 3 is that there aren’t enough scenes with Chucky beating up Jimmy Olsen. Bouncing from foster home to foster home, Andy has been transferred to military school, where they hope to iron out his doll-traumatised tendencies. Apparently he’s become a tearaway now, but it’s hard to buy Jimmy Olsen as anything other than a whiny brat, traumatised by a ginger doll.

Despite a military academy being an awful place for a tiny serial killer to hide, Chucky sets about trying to steal the body of Tyler, another child they just happen to have hanging around the school. And so Chucky kills a few insignificant bit players before trying to carry out his stupid plan and kill Andy, while he's at it. To be fair, Jimmy Olsen does have a face that tends to invite being murdered.

Repetitive and predictable, Child's Play 3 isn't a great sequel. Its setting is uninspired, the story a little dull. However, it does have the Cardassian chap from Deep Space Nine in it, playing a sadistic barber (really) who appears to have nothing better to do than shave children's dolls (also really). Dourif's voice work is as skeezy as ever, and the Chucky animatronics are pretty great, in a creepy, dodgy kind of way. My original review was a lot longer here, with me whining about the child actors (no change there then) and making far more references to Chucky's hair colour than was at all necessary. 

Gingers do have souls, and Chucky wants to put his in your body. 

Ultimately, and despite any whining otherwise, Child's Play 3 is far from the worst instalment of the series. We have Seed of Chucky to thank for that, which is about as enjoyable as, uh, fuck it, I can’t think of anything even nearly as agonising as watching Seed. Except for reading my old reviews.

13. Silent Night Deadly Night

It's your Horror Review Advent Calendar.

25 Christmas themed movies.

Ho, ho, ho.

Director: Charles E Sellier Jr (1984)

Starring: Robert Brian Wilson, Danny Wagner, Linnea Quigley

Find it: IMDB

A bit like Halloween, in so much as it’s set during a titular Holiday. Other than that, it’s nothing like Halloween. After a series of childhood traumas, a troubled, Christmas-hating youth goes on a Crimbo killing spree, murdering everyone on his naughty list. Also of interest: Nuns, shagging, bosoms, a rapey Santa Claus and plenty of assorted festive cruelty.

As the movie begins, we meet young Billy Chapman, his parents and baby sister. They’re a very nice, all-American family, and as such are doomed to die. But before all that, the family visit their crazy grandpa at his home in a cosy mental institution. They then leave young Billy alone with the old coot. Crazy granddad proceeds to traumatise the poor kid, telling him that “Christmas Eve is the scariest damn night of the year,” that Santa punishes the naughty kids, and that he better run if he sees Santa. Sounds like someone’s been watching Santa’s Slay.

Not traumatised enough by his own grandfather, Billy goes on to see his family murdered by a fella dressed as Santa. Looks like Gramps ain't so crazy after all. His parents dead, it's at this stage where a kid either decides to dress up as a giant bat or become a serial killer.

But with no kindly English butler to look after Billy, the poor kid finds himself in an orphanage. Still traumatised by his experience at the hands of Santa Claus, he passes his time by drawing lovely pictures of murdered Santas and beheaded reindeers. Kid’s got talent, reminiscent of the work of Charlie Bronson. More trauma is heaped upon poor Billy as he gets himself a beating from the orphanage’s Mother Superior. Lesson learnt: “Punishment is good”. And so Billy grows up to become the movie’s villain; a punisher of petty crimes; like the Punisher, but with added jolly.

Like many 80s’ slasher movies, Silent Night Deadly Night isn’t too scary, but is plenty creepy. It’s lurid and often gratuitously cruel. Does anyone really need to see a lady raped by a chap in a Santa costume? Not really, but the creepiness of it all is excellently done and partnered with a wonderful soundtrack of standard 80s’ synth and cheesy Christmas music. It’s lighter on the gore than its notoriety might suggest (a bunch of outraged mothers got it pulled from several cinemas), but it’s sleazy enough anyway to make up for the lack of onscreen claret. Plus, there's this, the greatest sequence of events ever to grace a Christmas film since Billy Bob Thornton beat the shit out of a child in Bad Santa:

Of the myriad of Christmas horror movies, Silent Night Deadly Night is perhaps my favourite. The story’s generic, but not so much that it can’t hold a few surprises. Billy’s transformation from innocent wee kiddiwink to traumatised psychopath is a plausible one; you too would likely go crazy if you had as much shit heaped upon you as he gets in this movie. And the pace is not as slow as Black Christmas, the tone less overtly silly than Gremlins or Jack Frost.

So if you thought that the likes of Fred Claus are too light on the stabby-stabby, beheadings and impalements (and yes, it was. Incidentally, that film is vastly improved if you imagine Paul Giamatti burying an axe in Vince Vaughan's fucking face) then Silent Night Deadly Night is surely the flick for you.

House of the Devil

Director: Ti West (2009)

Starring: Jocelin Donahue, Tom Noonan, Mary Woronov, Greta Gerwig

Find it online: IMDB, Amazon UK, Amazon US

In association with Final Girl's neat Film Club thing comes a retrofitted re-review of House of the Devil. Because writing a new one would've been far too much like work. It's a movie that, had Ti West made it in the 80s, we'd probably regard it as a classic by now. It's very much a movie that feels like it could have been directed by John Carpenter and starred Jamie Lee Curtis or PJ Soles. House of the Devil is a knowing yet entirely straight throwback to the babysitter-in-peril slasher movies of the late 70s/early 80s.

It's even set back in 1980s' America. Samantha (Donahue) is your typical skint college student. After agreeing to rent a house from Dee Wallace, hard-up Sam realises that she can't actually afford it. In order to make ends meet, she takes on a babysitter job as advertised on campus grounds. Only things aren't as they seem. There's no baby, for one. But to describe the movie's events any further would be cruel of me, since the various twists and turns need to be experienced with an unspoiled mind to work fully. After all, House of the Devil only has about three or four tricks up its sleeve.

At its best, House of the Devil is very good. At its worst, it's merely a bit mediocre. The acting is very good, particularly from Donahue. She's cute and all sorts of adorable - arguably the movie's second strongest suit. The best thing about it? The style and tone painstakingly set up by West. It looks and feels like an authentic old-school slasher movie as inspired or directed by John Carpenter. Right down to its synth-rock soundtrack, House of the Devil is pitch perfect. To add to the effect, there's even a VHS version available. It's this remarkable attention to detail that saves it from becoming just another lazy piece of STD dross. Like Babysitter Wanted, there's more at work than you might expect from just hearing the synopsis.

Ironically, it's that attention to detail that holds the movie back from greatness. Too much is predictable. There are a few mild surprises in the setup and the tension racks up nicely, but there's nothing you won't have seen before (and back in the 80s', to boot). Its gorefest finale provides a nice change of pace, but is all a bit overwrought and melodramatic.

Still, it has a heart and ambition that's hard to fault. House of the Devil might have its problems, but it tries too damn hard for any horror fan to dislike. This is one that deserves watching a few times: once for the plot, and again to revel in the 80s' trashiness of it all. Savour House of the Devil. After all, they don't make 'em like this anymore.

The House on Sorority Row (1983)

Director: Mark Rosman (1983)

Starring: Kate McNeil, Eileen Davidson, Janis Ward, Robin Meloy

Find it online: IMDB, Amazon UK, Amazon US

Exactly like Black Christmas, except it isn’t Christmas and there’s no Lois Lane. Also: interminable disco scenes ala Prom Night, and a Michael Myers-lite killer, complete with a budget Doc Loomis and hysteria-overloaded Laurie. Thankfully: breasts and beheadings to make things more tolerable.

Living in the titular* sorority house, seven student girls decide to have themselves a party to celebrate their graduation. Only house mother Mrs. Slater (a blatant Mama Voorhees wannabe) is proves to be a right grumpy-pants and storms about the house, bursting the girls’ water-beds and shouting a lot. The girls decide to teach Slater a lesson, pulling a prank on the poor biddy. When said prank involves a gun and a swimming pool, you know it’s all gonna end in tears. Unfortunately, their accidental murder happens to coincide with the party they had planned. Can't cancel the band. The booze has already been bought. Sink the dead body; there's a party to be had.

The House on Sorority Row is about as derivative as 1980s’ slasher movies can get. Every cliche imaginable is in there, accompanied by a few more for good measure. You'll be able to predict who gets killed when and where, and you'll even know when to expect the fake-out shocks. The fake-out shocks, in fact, are usually followed by fakey-looking deaths, complete with blood several shades too red, and plastic-looking limbs.

The characters are all one-note idiots, portrayed by mostly incapable actresses. (Probably) virginal Kathryn couldn't be any more signposted as the movie's Final Girl. The killer is rubbish too, using a pointed walking stick as his murder weapon of choice. But hey; there's a lot of boobs in this movie.

With that in mind, any merits are either ironic or directed by your penis. There are plenty of scenes with the girls either naked or in their nightwear, and a bunch more that are laughable in their sheer rubbishness. The high points: a girl's decapitated head left in a toilet bowl. Anything involving nudity. A lot of ridiculousness involving a dead body, a swimming pool, a roll of carpet and a dumpster. The low points: mostly everything, but shut up and look at the boobies.

There are a couple of bits that work well, and it really throws you off. The final scenes see Kathryn drugged out of her eyeballs. There's a bit with a clown, too, and it makes the killer actually seem quite scary. But then he goes and spoils it all by falling down a fucking ladder.

The House on Sorority Row is, overall, a bit of a shitty movie. But when I say that, I mean it in the very best way. Like the similarly naff Prom Night, it gets by on old fashioned sleaze and high-camp silliness. Plus: a decapitated head in a toilet.

* Tee-hee. Tit. Tits feature quite heavily in this movie and this review.

The Wicker Man (1973)

Director: Robin Hardy (1973)
Starring: Edward Woodward, Christopher Lee, Britt Eckland

Find it online: IMDB, Amazon UK, Amazon US

Because TV schedulers here in Britain seem to have a thing for showing The Wicker Man every New Year (literally; I’ve watched it every year for the past three or four years) why not shoot off a few thoughts from my opinion-hole?

I first became aware of The Wicker Man at an age when I was far too young to do so. It was on New Years’ Eve, in fact, and I was about ten. New Years’ Eve being a time for stopping up past one’s normal bedtime, I got to avoid Jools Holland’s annual Hootenanny thing in favour of 1973’s The Wicker Man, which my hippy parents were very much a fan of. I didn't remember the rest of the movie, but that ending - and this movie - stuck with me until I was old enough to give the thing a proper viewing.

For the uninitiated, The Wicker Man is a Hammer Horror that takes place on a small little island somewhere off the British coast. Enter Police Sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward), called to investigate an anonymous report of a missing girl. Once on the island, Howie receives a very frosty reception, and notices that the residents are all behaving rather oddly – even the missing girl’s mother, who seems completely unbothered by her child’s disappearance. Whereas Nicolas Cage would have solved this by punching some bitches in the face, Sgt. Howie decides to stick around and investigate.

Just out of shot: Nic Cage riding in on his bicycle to save the day

Hopefully, you’d know this already. Howie’s investigations lead him to the doorstep of the island’s spiritual leader – Lord Summersisle (Christopher Lee) – who is also behaving rather oddly. Damn hippies. There are also, sleazes will be glad to know, quite a lot of scenes which see naked youths dancing around fires and flouting their sexuality at the virginal, repressed, Christian Howie. Chief amongst these scenes – almost as iconic as the titular Wicker Man – is barmaid Willow (Britt Eckland) who harasses poor Howie at night by dancing around naked and bouncing her lady-bits off’ve doors and suchlike. A scene which, incidentally, led husband-at-the-time Rod Stewart to attempt to have the film banned.

Inevitably, Howie’s investigations lead him into troubled waters. You should probably know how the movie ends by now, but far be it for me to spoil that for you. Wicker Man’s denouement is my favourite movie ending, ever. The movie is excellently acted by all involved (even Eckland, who admittedly doesn’t have to do much but be sexy and naked) and turns traditional horror tropes on their heads wonderfully. It all takes place in the daylight; there's next to no action or violence; no blood. The horror of it comes through the sheer unfamiliarity of the situation; it's in the villagers' friendly-yet-creepy demeanour; and it shines through in that truly wonderful, emotive climax. Religious fanatics are always scary. The Wicker Man will make you fear even the humble hippy.

I don’t have a bad word to say about The Wicker Man, which might make this a rather uninteresting review for some. For those who find The Wicker Man too slow, too English or non-actiony, they’ll always have the Nic Cage remake to content themselves with.

Prom Night (1980)

Director: Paul Lynch (1980)

Starring: Jamie Lee Curtis, Leslie Nielsen, Casey Stevens

Find it online: IMDB, Amazon UK, Amazon US

The other slasher movie to star a virginal Jamie Lee Curtis and lots of horny teenagers getting laid and dead, Prom Night will certainly come as a surprise to those who only have its remake as a reference point. Sure, both movies take place on a prom night and have teenagers getting themselves stabbed, but the two nights couldn’t be any more different.

They’re both terrible movies, but at least 1980’s Prom Night has the good grace to be enjoyable in its sheer awfulness. Things start off in a creepy enough manner. A bunch of brat ratbastard kids are playing a variation on hide-and-seek (“the killer is coming”) in a dilapidated old house, when 10 year old Robin Hammond turns up and ruins their game. The little bastards turn on poor Robin and bully her until she falls out of a window and splatters herself everywhere. In true I Know What You Did… style, the kids cover up their death and seemingly get off scot free, blaming it all on an innocent rapist.

In a bit of synchronicity, the six-year anniversary of Robin’s death coincides with the school prom night and the rapist’s escape from prison. Sister Kim has grown up to be Jamie Lee Curtis, and brother Alex has gone a bit strange. The movie also stars Leslie Nielsen in one of his ‘serious’ roles, as the kids’ dad. It becomes apparent that someone knows Robin’s murderers’ secret, and is planning on wreaking themselves some revenge. But who? Could it be the wronged rapist? A vengeful relative? The pervy groundskeeper? Or even Robin Resurrected?

Whoever it is, they’re a lazy-arse killer, since no-one gets killed until well over an hour in. Up till then, much of the screen time is devoted to sleazy eyeballing of the female cast and crank phone calls ripped off’ve Black Christmas. Once the prom gets going, there’s also an overlong dance sequence that reminds of Grease/Saturday Night Fever, mixed with a bit of Carrie. Only with a whole bunch of promiscuous ‘teenage’ shagging. Well, there’s a lot of shagging, but I seriously doubt any of the kids were of high school age (Curtis was 22 when this movie was made). Of all the boning and boobies, my favourite bit involved a chubby guy, his girlfriend and a camper van, although there’s plenty to choose from. A bit more sleaze wouldn’t have gone amiss in the remake.

So the killer finally shows up, but things are still pretty dumb. All the ingredients are primed for a scary slasher icon, but Prom Night can’t pull it off. He (or maybe she, as we’re led to believe) has a nice Giallo inspired look going on, but is ultimately as inept as the Scary Movie killer. The glittery balaclava just isn’t a good look; and consistent uselessness doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. The final fight is a joke, as are most of the kills. My favourite involved the same chubby guy, girlfriend and camper van mentioned in the paragraph above. Its climax makes me smile every time.

Prom Night is ridiculously stupid, but it’s also a hard film to dislike. There’s a general air of eccentricity going on, certainly aided by the casting of Leslie Nielsen. You can really see how he went on to become such a star in the spoof genre. Watching him doing a bit of Dad Dancing at the prom with onscreen daughter Jamie Lee just feels so… right. Prom Night occasionally feels like a spoof movie in its own right. I’m not sure whether that’s because of Nielsen or simply because it’s such a silly flick.

It’s worth watching if you’re a fan of 80s’ slasher movies, and even more so if you like it with an extra helping of cheese.



3/5 screaming Scream Queens!!!

Zombie Holocaust

Director: Marino Girolami (1980)

Starring: Ian McCulloch, Alexandra Della Colli

Find it online: IMDB, Amazon UK, Amazon US

'Zombie Holocaust’. Really? No exaggeration, not one single person gets killed by zombies in Marino Girolami’s so called Zombie Holocaust. An obvious cash-in on more successful (and good) titles, it recalls such cheese-fest nasties as Burial Ground and Zombie Flesh Eaters. And, in grand Italian tradition, the flick has a bunch of titles; none of them particularly pertinent. Otherwise known as Zombie 3 (no relation, obviously) and Doctor Butcher, MD (my favourite), Zombie Holocaust features hardly any zombies and no holocaust.

Ian McCulloch stars as Dr. Peter Chandler, a doctor of something who leads an ill-advised expedition to South Asia in search of cannibals. For some reason, said cannibals are travelling to New York hospitals and munching on the patients found therein. McCulloch, as fans of shit will already know, is the best thing about the movie. He looks a bit like Roger Moore and has his own Wikipedia page. If Moore-era James Bond had quit spying and become an explorer, he’d be Peter Chandler. But anyway, how or why his cannibals travel to New York is never really explained – but that’s the least of your troubles here.

Zombie Holocaust is an obvious cash-in on the success of such classics as Zombie Flesh Eaters (which also starred Ian McCulloch as a doctor named Peter) and the increasingly popular cannibal movies of the time. Because Zombies + Cannibals = CASH. In retrospect, they should probably have called it Zombies vs Cannibals, or at least something a little bit more descriptive of their actual product. Nibbling Zombies, perhaps. Or The Zombies that Didn’t Eat Anything.

But back to the plot. Alexandra Delli Colli stars as Lori Ridgeway, who has a degree in anthropology and is therefore of utmost importance to the team. She also grew up near the Cannibal Island, although this is never touched on again. She and Peter are joined in turn by a journalist, some cannon-fodder and a shifty tour guide named Molotto.

First to die are the ethnic bag-carriers, who wander off into the jungle and immediately get themselves eaten. It’d probably be scary if it didn’t look so horribly fake. There’s a scene where one character has his eyes poked out. As eye-gougings go, it’s probably the worst I’ve ever seen, since the blood is far too red and the victim’s head looks like a papier mache construct. Lucio Fulci this ain’t.

Just as Peter and Lori are about to die, the zombies appear and scare away the cannibals, who run off hysterically and hide in the undergrowth. Why they’d be so scared is unclear, since the zombies look shit and are incapable of killing anything. The cannibals capture a crew of armed, prepared Westerners… and then flee at the sight of crappy, shambling corpses? I don’t buy it. And neither do our heroes. In lieu of escaping, Peter and Lori decide to investigate further, uncovering the half-cocked scheme of Mad Scientist Dr. Obrero (or Dr. Butcher, if you have the US version) as they go. Aside from looking and sounding like Harvey Keitel, Doc Butcher plans to transplant Peter’s brain into a dead, decomposed body. This would explain the zombies, but it’s also unspeakably stupid. But not as stupid as what comes next:

Lori, adopted as a goddess by the locals, leads a cannibal army against Doc Butcher, and frees Peter in the process. The ending, by the way, is a bunch of recycled footage they used in Zombie Flesh Eaters, because it obviously been too much hassle to shoot some new stuff.

The only reason to watch this movie is for its incredibly high Cheese Factor. And even then, only if you’ve watched everything else. It’s woefully lacking in too many departments. The gore is too fake to convince, the acting is terrible (yes, even you, McCulloch) and the story is utterly slapdash.

As you’d expect with such a classic bit of Cheese, the below Scream Queens are once again screaming ironically:

3/5 screaming Scream Queens!!!

The Stepfather (1987)

Director: Joseph Ruben (1987)

Starring: Terry O' Quinn, Stephanie Maine, Stephanie Maine Blake

Find it online: IMDB

Well, for all intents and purposes, I thought they did already remake The Stepfather. That one had Vince Vaughan and John Travolta in it. But this isn’t a review of that film. This isn’t even a review of the other one, starring Amber Heard and Nip Tuck from off’ve Nip Tuck. This is the original flick, which stars Terry O’ Quinn as the eponymous Stepfather.

Well this Stepfather automatically earns itself some cool points by having O’ Quinn in full-on badass mode. When we first meet him, he’s barely recognizable as John Locke of Lost fame. Fair enough, the film’s over twenty years old, but Locke has an impressive amount of face-fuzz going on here. If you watch the remake’s trailer, you’ll see that Nip Tuck sports a similar beard, only shit. Fool shoulda’ known he couldn’t hope to compare with the awesomeness of John Locke. But more importantly, he’s washing blood off his hands (not a metaphor) and looking evil into a mirror. He has a shave, changes into a dapper suit and wanders downstairs to where his dead family are lazing about. Whistling himself a merry little tune, Locke leaves the house and wanders on up the street.

Locke soon ingratiates himself with another family, becoming husband to a cute little MILF and stepfather to her equally cute daughter. He’s calling himself Jerry now, and tries to win his stepdaughter over with a puppy. Drugs or booze would probably be a better gift, since Stephanie is a bit of a rebel (cue classroom catfight) and gets herself expelled from school. This all clashes with Jerry’s 50s’ “happy family” sensibilities, and he sets about stabbing some sense into the girl…

Being evil and all, The Stepfather is an estate agent and keeps a basement full of power tools. He wears lots of tweed and is played by Terry O’ Quinn. It’s a good thing this is his movie, because he’s by far the best thing in it. He elevates it above TV-movie level, and it makes you glad he got to further his awesomeness in Lost (and you can often see shades of psycho in that series’ John Locke). It’s a multi-faceted performance, alternating between loving father/husband and stabby killer/psychopath. He's a bit overreactive, but then I suppose that's a psychopath's perrogative.

The building tension is nicely done. Watching Jerry unravel is a lot of fun. There’s not a lot of gore, but the few squirts and spurts of violence work pretty well, even if it is all a bit predictable. Likewise, the ending is by-the-numbers, but has a certain verve and charm to it.

And if it weren’t for its wonderful villain, one suspects that The Stepfather wouldn’t be a very good movie. Too much has been seen before in straight-to-DVD and made-for-TV movies. The Stepfather wants to be a Hitchcockian style psychological thriller, but the movie doesn’t provide us enough insight into Jerry’s mind or his motives – nor anyone else’s – for it to really work. And it's not really scary enough to work as a proper horror movie. Jerry’s unravelling has shades of The Shining – and O’ Quinn certainly does a great Jack Nicholson impression - but the scares are too familiar and too scarce. Watching this, you’ll realise that the remake will really need to amp things up (be it the gore, humour or scares) to validate itself. As it stands, one Stepfather is enough. It’s certainly not the most pointless movie ever to have been remade, but it still seems incredibly unnecessary.

Fans of 80s' psycho movies should definitely check The Stepfather out. There's lots of naff synth music, plenty of melodrama, and - undoubtedly best of all - Terry O' Quinn overacting like his life depends on it. The Stepfather is dirt cheap and easily available on DVD now, so you have no excuse if you haven't seen it before. And especially if the alternative is spending £6 on tickets to see the remake.

Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror

Director: Andrea Bianchi (1981)

Starring: Peter Bark, Karin Well, Gianlugi Chirizzi

Find it online: IMDB, Amazon US, not currently available on Region 2 DVD

Burial Ground: Nights of Terror AKA Le Notti Del Torri AKA Zombi 3 AKA Masacre Zombie AKA Zombie Dead AKA The Film With at Least Five Titles AKA Whatever the Hell You Want to Call it is an Italian Grindhouse movie of the zombie variety. It should be noted that this review is based on a dodgy (unsubtitled) streaming version of the flick, so don't expect any commentary on the script from me. (Unless you represent the authorities of some sort, in which case I was watching it completely legally on a DVD I spent real money on).

The movie opens with god being eaten messily by a bunch of zombies. Well, he has a beard and wears white. And seeing as my copy of the film was without subtitles, there’s nothing to make me believe he wasn’t god. Anyway, it looks like the zombies decided to eat god because he was making such a noise, banging on walls and stuff. That must be what they mean by ‘waking the dead’, yo ho ho.

Well, either god or Alan Moore. Most likely the latter. Like everyone else, the zombies were probably pissed off with Alan's constant bitching about Watchmen. That was a genuinely good film, dagnammit.

The god/Alan Moore-eating all done with, the credits begin to roll. Some horribly cheesy synth music plays all over the titles. Such things being part of the charm of 80s’ Grindhouse pieces, it’s a nice setup for things to come. Three couples have come to stay in a large stately manor. One of the couples has brought their young son, who is easily the best thing in the whole film… due in no small part to the fact that he’s played by a middle-aged dwarf (wearing a toupee, no less). But more on that later, because…

Not even 10 minutes in, and we get our first piece of nudity and a full-blown (no pun intended) sex scene. They just don’t make shit like this anymore. As some guy nibbles on his ladyfriend’s booby, more synth music plays. The other two couples are hard at it too. Unfortunately, just as they’re getting mid-jiggy, Horny couple no.3 are disturbed by their ‘son’, which totally ruins the mood. Particularly as he looks a little bit turned on by it all. And because he’s a middle-aged dwarf in a toupee. But I digress:

As the couples gather to eat dinner together, all the lightbulbs begin to pop, which causes a maid to burst into a fit of hysterics. And then the zombies emerge from downstairs…

Talking of zombies, those seen here have that lovely, textured, inimitable grotty look that you can only find in authentic Italian Grindhouse. There’s plenty of scenes in which zombies rise from the grass, their eyes dripping maggots. The makeup effects here are somewhat simplistic (generally bald, eyeless, rotten and wearing a dress) but effective.

After a bit more copulation from the manor’s residents (this time out in the garden, to add a bit of variety), the zombies converge on the house. Toupee dwarf kid’s father shoots a bunch of them, whilst his ‘son’ hides his face in mummy’s love-lumps. Kid sure does love those ladylumps. But we’ll come back to that later…

… Because right now, it’s on with the sex. As horny couple no.2 bone in the garden, they are disturbed by what seems to be the zombie equivalent of doggers. There’s a lot of fighting (read: an ineffectual poking with a rake, and a strangulation that lasts about five minutes) before the survivors finally hole up in the house. Things proceed from here in a manner similar to Night of the Living Dead et al, but get no less strange. There’s much demented wandering around dark castle rooms, all accompanied by that wonderful soundtrack (sadly absent from modern horror). The night draws on and the bodycount racks up.

The acting is generally melodramatic throughout, with plenty of anguished screaming and lots of close-ups of terrified, hysterical faces. If there’s a stand out performance, then it has to belong to Peter Bark as ‘young’ Michael. He doesn’t say much, since his voice has long since broken, but he steals the film anyway, particularly as the incestual stuff begins to kick in. “Oh mama….” I didn’t understand the rest of what he was saying, but it probably translates to “gimme some sugar, baby.” (And on a side note, more films should cast adult dwarves as children. If this ever gets remade, I want Warick Davis as Michael).

Anyway, the whole thing comes to a bloody climax, and gosh blimey and other exclamatives, this review has probably ended up half as long as the film itself. As you’d expect, there’s a bounty of gore and gloop, including (but not limited to) a gut-eating scene, several gunshot wounds, a bear-trap leg wound (see, Manhunt, that shit was outdated by the 80s’), lots of rotten zombie corpses, a strangulation, skull-splitting, a burning… and that’s all in the first half hour. The blood and guts never let up for long, and Burial Ground is all the better for it.

Burial Ground is pretty derivative, but brings enough sleaze and surrealism to the table for it to work. There’s more sex than you can shake a dildo at, whilst the gore gags are beautifully messy. And then, of course, there’s this:

Which is, alone, enough to earn Burial Ground 4/5 screaming Scream Queens!!! (Although, to be fair, at least two of them are screaming ironically).

Freddy's Nightmares - No More Mr. Nice Guy

The first in the series of Freddy’s Nightmare on Elm Street spin-off, No More Mr. Nice Guy is a prequel to the movies, showing the events which led up to one Fred Krueger becoming an infamous dream demon and punchbag to Jason Voorhees.

The episode opens with a faux ‘news report’, complete with graphics that look like they were made on Microsoft Paint. The news reporter gives a nice little ‘WTF’ expression, before being teleported away from behind the desk. The screen then cuts to some more MS Paint graphics; this time a bunch of green and red stripes that are probably supposed to represent Freddy’s jumper.

Talking of whom, we cut to Freddy, who is clouded in the shadows of a boiler room. “No no no! Don’t be afraid. This time it isn’t one of your nightmares… this one… was mine!”

News reporter dude is back, looking confused outside of a courtroom. He informs us that we’re at the trial of Fred Krueger. Inside, a pre-burning Freddy stands at the, um stand, looking smug. Although the evidence points to Freddy being entirely guilty, he is acquitted of the charges – apparently because the arresting officers never bothered to read him his rights.

Y’know, most people tend to wear a suit to court. Freddy goes the unconventional route, wearing his usual Christmas jumper and silly hat.

But anyway, as he leaves the court, the angered jury and outraged parents vow to take the law into their own hands. Freddy, meanwhile, clears off back to his boiler room and makes lots of growling noises whilst walking around in the darkness. I wonder if the upcoming remake will include Freddy’s ice cream van? I suppose if I were a child murderer, I’d drive around in an ice cream van too.

As this is happening, melodramatic 80s’ American rock plays in the background. You’d think Freddy’d want to lay low for a while, all things considered, but he’s far more content to sit in his lair and talk to his gloves, promising them some “feed” later. It’s interesting to note that, in this episode, we get the mostly-scary Freddy that we recognise from the first few Nightmare flicks. I guess it would’ve been difficult to have Funny Freddy come out to play while he was still in child-killer mode.

Anywizz, just as Freddy shows up to kill some girls (on the same night as he’s been acquitted of child-murder? You gotta admire the man’s dedication) a lynch mob appears and torches him - “tonight… the law is on vacation”. But it’s okay, because the child murderer seems to realise he can’t be killed. He just stands there and allows the parents to douse him in petrol – even encouraging them to do so (“that’s it… pour it all over me pig… gonna have a cook out, huh?") and just as he makes like a dog and goes woof (GET IT) there’s the inevitable “I’ll be baa-aaack!” By-the-by, I don't see anyone even remotely resembling John Saxon amongst the mob, so it's hard to say where this episode lies in relation to Nightmare continuity.

The rest of the episode follows the cop who burned Freddy, setting up Kreuger’s new MO as a dream killer. Freddy taunts the cop for a bit, ramming him with his ice cream van, and then finally finishing him off in a dentists’ chair. And so ends the first episode of Freddy’s Nightmares.

It’s a shame, because this series could have been good had a little more been lavished upon it in the budget, script and acting stakes. This pilot episode, inparticular had potential. And – while it’s far from classic Freddy – it does make for interesting viewing.

No More Mr. Nice Guy is mostly shit, but gets an extra Scream Queen simply because of that potential. Expect further episodes to be reviewed sporadically, when I can be arsed to look them up on youtube.



3/5 screaming Scream Queens!!!

Retro Horror: The Toxic Avenger

Melvin Ferd is your average movie nerd. Think a really, really creepy version of pre-radioactive Peter Parker. He works at a health club in Tromaville, New Jersey, where he is relentlessly bullied by the more muscular, attractive kids. After a prank goes wrong, Melvin ends up taking a swim in a bath of toxic waste. Thankfully this is comic-book variety toxic waste, and Melvin is soon enough transformed into a hulking great superhero; the eponymous Toxic Avenger.

Subtlelty not being one of director Lloyd Kaufman's strongest points, The Toxic Avenger is packed to the brim with bad taste humour, outrageous gore and a bombastic bombload of nudity. Viewers will either love or loathe this brand of humour - thankfully I'm an immature idiot, so I loved it.

Political correctness, thy name is Lloyd Kaufman

Once transformed into Toxie, Melvin sets about seeking revenge on those who caused his toxic-waste dip. Somehow he ends up being embraced by Tromaville as a superhero; and finds love in the shape of Sara, a blind girl he rescues from rape (Thug: "Knock knock. Sara: Who's there? Thug: Ben. Sara: Ben who? Thug: Ben dover!!" - Thug initiates rape). Such jokes aside (y'know, I think I saw those lines of dialogue on a porno once) poor Sara forms the butt of about 80% of the jokes - most of which either involve her cooking with oven cleaner, or stabbing Toxie in the love-spuds with her cane.

The violence is equally over-the-top. Highlights include a bunch of intestines being unwound from the owner's body, an old lady being shoved into a washing machine, and a lot of limbs being torn off. And, for the trifectra, there's more female nudity than you can shake a lovelength at, which is always nice.

Unfortunately, my copy of the film (the Region 2 version) seemed to have much of the gory goodness cut out, resulting in a somewhat fragmented affair. Some of the kill scenes are quite confusing, since it'll skip from (a) Toxie entering a room to (c) victim dead. It's really worth the extra effort that finding an uncut copy entails, since The Toxic Avenger needs to be seen in its full glory to be fully appreciated.

Even if you're not usually a fan of Troma productions, The Toxic Avenger really is worth seeking out. Conversationally, the novelisation is a pretty good read too.... even better than the film it's based on, in fact.