Nightmares

Directed by John Lamond

Screenplay by Colin Eggleston
1980, USA

The Italians might have done it best but the Aussies sure did have a good time trying. As unstable as a one-legged pirate walking a tightrope, Nightmares (directed by Ozploitation guru John Lamond) isn’t shy about what it’s doing. From the opening scene we are bombarded with an erratic pace and a pulsating score which quickly informs us that we are in for one hell of a ride. The film opens with a set of flashbacks, where we see Hellen Selleck (Jenny Neumann) subject to two early childhood traumatic experiences. The first, which in some way causes the second, is of a young Helen discovering her mother and her lover having sex. Helen’s initial need for mommy to reinforce that there are no bogeymen under her bed is quickly put on the backburner by a more current and real fear, her mommy getting boogie manned all up in them guts. This sighting, which echoes throughout the film, causes her to presumably go completely insane. Helen’s second episode comes roughly a month later while driving home one night. Momma’s loverboy gets a little frisky in the car causing Helen to scream “get your hands off my mommy” momentarily distracting whoever was driving enough to swerve into another car, ejecting mommy through the window, slitting her throat with the windshield. On top of this, Helen plays a further part in her mother’s literal undoing by trying to pull her mother back into the car only to worsen the cut to her throat and possibly providing the final blow to mommy dearest. Just perfect! Now the film is set up to bring us to the present, some 20 years later, and we have a very crazy broad on our hands.

Nightmares is one capricious little devil but one of the steady points is a hammering score composed by Brian May. Striking hard and cutting deep from the first chord, May’s score is fervid and violent. At times dominating the film, the score encompasses the film’s complete insanity. The look and feel is uniquely Australian, with some borrowed components from Italian and American slasher schlock. Using the giallo staple of a POV killer with black gloves, broken glass and lecherous heavy breathing, Nightmares, cuts its victims up in a fleshy display of hatred for the body. Intersplicing scenes from Helen’s traumatic past with the killer (although there is no real question as to who that is) slicing up naked people (remember this is John Lamond we’re talking about, champion of Ozploitation sleaze including The ABC’s of Love and Sex, so there are ample opportunities for genital slashing), Nightmares caters to audiences looking for blood, butts and sleaze.

It’s easy to see resemblances to Michel Soavi’s 1987 Stage Fright – which is the original title of Nightmares and is more prominently known. Both follow a self-reflexive, behind the scenes narrative structure, using the stage and theatre as the setting for their killings. Yes, Soavi’s killer dons an amazingly absurd owl mask, but Lamond’s Nightmares is inarguably more insane. Edited as seamlessly as a baseball, Nightmares jaggedly cuts through its scenes as rough as its killer cuts through a victim’s flesh. Although there’s no real sense of mystery within the film, Nightmares is completely unpredictable.

Detroit Burns

EXTRAS:
• Audio Commentary With Director John Lamond And Not Quite Hollywood Director Mark Hartley
• A Brief History Of Slasher Films Featurette
• John Lamond Trailer Reel

About Severin

Sledgehammer

Directed by David A. Prior

Written by David A. Prior

USA , 1983

How should I put this nicely? Sledgehammer is quite possibly one of the worst films ever made. In terms of cinematic quality, Sledgehammer is what a Michael Bay film would look like without a budget. Sledgehammer is so terrible that its director, David Prior, is ashamed of it.

For the unfamiliar, Sledgehammer is an obscure, rarely-seen straight-to-video 80′s slasher film. It is one of the era’s most easily forgotten titles, and would be completely lost to history had it not been labelled the first direct-to-video full-length feature shot entirely on home camcorder. For that reason, true connoisseurs of such VHS-era exploitation stuff will try to convince you it has some redeeming qualities.

Sledgehammer represents an endurance test of bad filmmaking, from the porn-worthy performances of the entire cast, to the repulsive dialogue, horrible lighting, cringeworthy camera work and incredibly juvenile plot. There are movies labeled “so bad they’re good” simply because regardless of their poor production values, bad acting and nonsensical plots, audiences can’t help but find enjoyment in watching them, usually by laughing at the film as opposed to with it. However no amount of bad or good drugs will aid you in finding any form of enjoyment with this stool.

Back in the days kids like myself would rent just about anything as long as it had a cool cover, but even back than we knew better. For adolescents, Sledgehammer had both a cool cover and a cool title, but offered nothing more. It was a film we never wanted to see ever again, and yet here we are, nearly thirty years later, anticipating its re-release. Nostalgia is a strange beast. Cinephiles across the globe are rejoicing the special edition DVD released by Inter-vision Picture Corp. Meanwhile Mondo, the collectible art boutique arm of Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, decided to launch their very own VHS label, Mondo Video, with their first release being, yes, Sledgehammer. But no matter how respected the distributors mentioned above are, one has to question their choice.

Writer-director David A. Prior went on to direct some more of the worst films ever made, such as Deadly Prey and Horror Workout, but Sledgehammer is the worst of his canon. Prior chose for his debut feature to follow in the footsteps of the then-popular slasher flicks Halloween and Friday the 13^th. He got his hands on some commercial video equipment, called in his friends and his brother/former Playgirl centerfold/star of Deadly Prey Ted Prior, and shot a feature film in the only one set he could afford – his apartment. Prior claims to have made it for around $10,000 but not one cent of that money is seen spent anywhere on screen.

The plot is all too familiar: A gang of teenagers (represented by actors in their later thirties) rent a cottage for a weekend and quickly find themselves being killed off one by one, by an unknown psychopath via a sledgehammer.

David A. Prior makes almost every possible mistake for a first time filmmaker, from the opening frame to the closing credits. An overpowering synth score, clunky script, badly improvised dialogue by jocks and cheerleader types, and a ton of slow-motion shots that take up half the film’s running time, make this a torturous watch.

This film is more than just boring. It’s worse – it’s annoying, barely qualifying as a cinematic experience. If you’re nostalgic for the good old days of going to video stores to rent VHS copies of obscure horror titles, you may find reason to either purchase or rent the DVD. The film is presented in its original 1.33:1 aspect ratio, and it’s not surprising it looks just like its original VHS roots. Inter-vision really went out of their way to present it as a retro experience complete with a washed-out presentation, tape-noise, discoloration and overall rotten sound (Dolby Digital 2.0 mono). The disk even opens with a worn-out FBI warning and a trailer for the epic (and more deserving of a DVD release) Things.

Bloggers would have you believe Sledgehammer is somehow a good film, maybe to stay in good standing with DVD distributors, but I question their candidness. As an artifact of a bygone time, Sledgehammer would feel special as a dollar bin discovery in someone’s yard sale. Thanks to a wise decision in keeping the DVD release to a bare minimum of quality, perhaps it can still retain its tiny charm, but one has to wonder.

Kyle Reese

“Like the poems scribed on a public bathroom wall, this movie is childish and fucking great.”

Directed by Drew Bolduc & Dan Nelson

Written by Drew Bolduc

2010, USA

It never occurred to me that you could make feature length film about all the bad jokes and perverted thoughts you had in high school and yet still have it turn into an enjoyable experience for someone other than your dysfunctional self to watch.  The Taint is a constant reminder of our stupidity. Its obsession with all things genital-related is as embarrassing as discovering your pecker for the first to time while watching the S&M comedy Exit to Eden.With all its dicks, jizz, and gay jokes, The Taint comes across as a psychotic, moronic teenage dream, induced from an overdose of video game playing, porn watching and murderous fantasies. Some might call it a nightmare; but I call it a funtime bonanza, mainly because I don’t know what those words mean yet.  Writer, director, composer, cosmic dancer, etc. Drew Bolduc, uses every great thing from 80’s b-movies and molded it into his Taint. Circles of death, masked avengers, Castlevania-like Casio scores, boobs, and exploding faces are all just the tip of the phallic iceberg, for this movie is phenomenally messed up.

Remember when films like The Toxic Avenger actually were really fun and gross? Remember when watching those films felt wrong and filthy, making your pants rise and your mouth orifice tingle with the inevitable eruption of a vomit waterfall? The Taint is a reminder that these horrible, horrible films are so fucking great. It also is the first film that I have seen in a long time to use its digitally enhanced special effects, as well as latex (dildos are made of latex, no?) effects with effortless perfection. This DIY piece of skull-fuckery is 100% worth tracking down. You’ll see squirrel’s heads whipped off, faces pulled off, dicks shots off, skyscrapers blown up and jerks jerked off. I had so much fun watching this film that I had to take a break from seeing my psychologist about my Dan Akyroyd nightmares, instead choosing to just sit starring blankly into my empty fishbowl collection wondering what it would be like if I were still watching The Taint.

The Taint is unapologetic ally raunchy. What doesn’t work for the film (a couple of anti-climatic flashback/explanation scenes towards the end of the film) doesn’t really matter. The film cares so little about making sense or what it’s doing, that criticizing it only makes us waste our precious words and most likely would result in a hand written response on a cheap bar napkin from Drew Bolduc reading “your Mom.” Like the poems scribbled on a public bathroom wall, this movie is childish and fucking great.

Detroit Burns

“filled with uninspired performances and bad, bad jokes.”

Bigfoot

Directed by Bob Gray

2006, Troma films

It’s not every day you come across a movie as bad as Bob Gray’s Bigfoot.  Shot on some of the cruddiest and taking no real pride in its form, Bigfoot, proves to be a frustrating, torturous experience in patience.  Other than looking like a complete piece of shit and going absolutely nowhere for the majority of the film, this film is filled with uninspired performances and bad, bad jokes.  Seriously the jokes in this film feel like something your shitty uncle shot with his friends and family the first weekend after getting their first RCA crap cam in the summer of ‘89.  And trust me despite how cool you once thought your uncle was his jokes and ideas have come to fruition and stink worst than a Porter-Potty at a Grateful Dead reunion show.  Which knowing your shitty ass uncle, he’d probably attend and end up stinking up that joint (pun fully intended) just as bad. But this isn’t an old straight to video release; in fact it’s only a handful of years old making it even more confusingly dated considering it was only released in 2006. What’s truly unfortunate is that the film fails to capitalize on its B-grade style, neglecting the blood, guts, sex and trash, other than its passable Bigfoot costume and applaudable beginning.

I’ll spare you the trouble and tell what’s worth seeing in Bigfoot. First off, the opening to Bigfoot is the best thing about the film. Beginning with serene, picturesque shots of the habitat and landscape while accompanied by a gentle soothing score. Divine. A truly almost perfect start to a perfect day (other than the fact that it’s shot with such a crappy camera.) But “oh no!” This peaceful moment is rudely interrupted as a little baby raccoon is suddenly (and I mean completely out of fuckin’ nowhere) is crushed by Bigfoot’s Hairy-Belafonte, which is what I decided to coin his right foot (the left is Hairy Dean Stanton and he’s cooler than that.) Superb. A truly remarkable start to what ends up being an unabashed piece of shit. This beginning and its subsequent introduction to our dishonorably discharged, wronged soldier gone good ol’ hometown boy will have you craving one thing, more Bigfoot. Splendid. It of course doesn’t ever really come until the end of the film in which we the audience granted one of God’s most humble cinematic gifts, a Bigfoot fistfight. The very idea of a man’s man pushed to his breaking point, standing toe to toe with the brother of Yeti, the cousin of Sasquatch, the father of Bruce Vilanch, is worthy of any avid B-Movie fans’ attention. In giving us this brief moment of spiritual enlightenment, Bigfoot, does attempt to rebuild some of the broken pieces of your mind and soul, which at this point it will have been destroyed through countless arrangements of bad dialogue and impressively awful filmmaking.  From broken fist to hairy face, from leaky gasoline tanks to fur ballin’ pick up trucks, Bigfoot finally gives us what we’ve waited over an hour and change for. Punch for punch, fist for paw (what the hell do you call those things anyway) we finally get a Bigfoot fistfight. Thank you for that at least.

-Detroit Burns

Visit the official website for Troma

“A dead body has more spirit then you.”

Pep Squad (1998)

Directed by Steve Balderson

With a wicked sense of humor and the surreal campy flavor of a pageant dad’s trophy room Pep Squad rah rah’s itself through a frenzy of high school traumas. Tackling the horrors of yearbook photos to school ground mass murders, Pep Squad is far from child’s play. Sporting an obvious obsession with high school comedies, Pep Squad’s twisted take on growing up in small town America, comes out like a classroom debate between Heathers and Serial Mom. For you film freaks out three, imagine if Buffy the Vampire Slayer ate out Carrie while the Lloyd Kaufman took the minutes and then turned everything he saw (or thought he saw) into a feature film.

As with most high school killer comedies, this film takes it sweet time to get its rocks off. From one demented disillusioned youth to another, Pep Squad aims for the sky and doesn’t seem to really give a damn about how it gets there. Toying a fine line between a surrealist look into Middle America and an all out tongue in cheek black comedy, Pep ends up being a jumbled mess of fun times and twisted ideas. It’s impossible to not enjoy some of the more “subtle” moments in the film. In one instance, Cherry (played whole heartedly by co-producer Brooke Balderson) cruises through the small town streets with a handgun out the window blasting away at passing teens, a gun by the way she pawned her “best CDs” for (the one moment in film where any character feels any sense of real loss.) Other memorable moments include a surreal, orgy of the damned mixed in with a “how to” on the proper discarding of a dead school principle.

The film is best summed up by one line from the head cheer skank “a dead body has more spirit than you” which arguably could be said about this film except for the fact that all it ever seems convey is its own spirit. In fact this film has so much a sense of spirit about itself it doesn’t seem to care that it often starts to suck. Sometimes showing a love for what your doing is great other times it just leaves the audience feeling left out. It’s in the films self-adoration of it’s own concepts, gags and grim outlook that film gets lost. I’m reminded here of another film which feel into similar problems, the Manson family black comedy, Leslie: My Name Is Evil (2009.) A film which given its potential had the pieces to be a far superior film but again always seemed to fall into its own traps over and over again. Like Leslie, this movie has the potential for you to fall in love with it. It looks the part and has a sense of humor to boot. It’s just that it seems more like the close friend type rather than anything special let alone home to M & D. I’m sorry, it’s not the film, it’s me.

- Detroit Burns

Visit the official website for Troma

“A dead body has more spirit then you.”

Pep Squad (1998)

Directed by Steve Balderson

With a wicked sense of humor and the surreal campy flavor of a pageant dad’s trophy room Pep Squad rah rah’s itself through a frenzy of high school traumas. Tackling the horrors of yearbook photos to school ground mass murders, Pep Squad is far from child’s play. Sporting an obvious obsession with high school comedies, Pep Squad’s twisted take on growing up in small town America, comes out like a classroom debate between Heathers and Serial Mom.  For you film freaks out three, imagine if Buffy the Vampire Slayer ate out Carrie while the Lloyd Kaufman took the minutes and then turned everything he saw (or thought he saw) into a feature film.

As with most high school killer comedies, this film takes it sweet time to get its rocks off. From one demented disillusioned youth to another, Pep Squad aims for the sky and doesn’t seem to really give a damn about how it gets there.  Toying a fine line between a surrealist look into Middle America and an all out tongue in cheek black comedy, Pep ends up being a jumbled mess of fun times and twisted ideas. It’s impossible to not enjoy some of the more “subtle” moments in the film.  In one instance, Cherry (played whole heartedly by co-producer Brooke Balderson) cruises through the small town streets with a handgun out the window blasting away at passing teens, a gun by the way she pawned her “best CDs” for (the one moment in film where any character feels any sense of real loss.)  Other memorable moments include a surreal, orgy of the damned mixed in with a “how to” on the proper discarding of a dead school principle.

The film is best summed up by one line from the head cheer skank “a dead body has more spirit than you” which arguably could be said about this film except for the fact that all it ever seems convey is its own spirit. In fact this film has so much a sense of spirit about itself it doesn’t seem to care that it often starts to suck. Sometimes showing a love for what your doing is great other times it just leaves the audience feeling left out. It’s in the films self-adoration of it’s own concepts, gags and grim outlook that film gets lost. I’m reminded here of another film which feel into similar problems, the Manson family black comedy, Leslie: My Name Is Evil (2009.)  A film which given its potential had the pieces to be a far superior film but again always seemed to fall into its own traps over and over again. Like Leslie, this movie has the potential for you to fall in love with it.  It looks the part and has a sense of humor to boot. It’s just that it seems more like the close friend type rather than anything special let alone home to M & D. I’m sorry, it’s not the film, it’s me.

- Detroit Burns

Visit the official website for Troma

“Essential viewing and one of the best films of the year so far.”

Rampage

Directed by Uwe Boll

Rampage is the latest film from the infamous writer/producer/director Uwe Boll, the critically and publicly chided creator of such hilariously bad movies as House of the Dead, Alone in the Dark, Bloodrayne, and In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale. Over recent years he’s occasionally shocked critics with some adequate and mildly enjoyable movies such as Postal, Seed, and Tunnel Rats, and now he returns with his latest vent at the world.

Whether you put it down to luck, or some divine intervention – he’s finally got it right. Rampage is a truly brilliant movie, make no mistake about it, one that finally showcases Boll’s trademark rage, bloodlust and cynical humor with enough talent, style and cinematic verve to back it up.

It is also a movie that’s best not overly dissected prior to viewing as it’s the shock and awe that makes it work so well, so this review won’t delve into too much detail of the slim story. Suffice to say it’s kind of like a documentary style version of Falling Down with oodles of violence.

It has a few problems for sure – its opening 20-minute wind-up occasionally grates by recycling the same sound bites over and over. There’s an explosion near the beginning that sticks out as a sore CGI thumb in such a gritty and realistic film. The sheriff who turns up in the tail end of the movie is a little bit too actor-orientated when compared to the other very natural performances and the opening titles utilise the same damn font as many of Boll’s other movies and just seems amateurish.

But that’s honestly it. To tell the truth – none of those even matter one iota when the film is taken as a whole. This is an intelligent, deftly crafted, brutal, surprising, funny, shocking, saddening, poignant, and very wry movie that boasts superb music and sound design, stellar acting (particularly from the lead, Boll regular Brendan Fletcher) and excellent direction. Boll tries out the ‘no script’ tactic that missed the mark in Tunnel Rats and luckily for him it works like a charm here with superbly nuanced and believable performances. A lot of people had given up on Boll, but a dedicated few have always supported his generally dreadful but perhaps mildly unfairly lambasted back-catalogue whilst holding out hope for a brighter future. Both will be shocked by Rampage, as no one could have imagined he had such a sincerely brilliant and serious movie as this in him.

Essential viewing and one of the best films of the year so far.

Al White

“…grim atmospheric tale of madness and isolation.. tortures the viewer with its rich landscapes and violent twists.”

Dark Nature

Directed by Marc de Launay

With a Chopin fueled drive into the horrific, Marc de Launay’s grim atmospheric tale of madness and isolation, Dark Nature, tortures the viewer with its rich landscapes and violent twists. Following a family in the woods setting, or in some moments versus the woods, Dark Nature, owes its form to horror standards such as The Shining , The Long Weekend and Calvaire. Heightened by the constant threat of their surroundings, the town folk and the woods, as well as the insecurities in their own sanity, these poor souls must constantly battle the dangers of the world and its messed up inhabitants.

Dark Nature is a bit of a rough film to pinpoint. Its weakness is in the film’s hesitance to go one-step further and yet its strong point is patience and a commitment to build up. The use of the rich Scottish landscape and maniacal score create a stark and tense atmosphere, an atmosphere that the film creates very well. Its problem however (and I’m shocked to say this considering it’s a Troma release) is that it’s death scenes are rather anti-climatic and serve no purpose other than the elimination of a character from the rest of the script. Maybe this saved them money at the Kraft table but what they didn’t realize is that the dead still need to eat. Moreover, for a film like this I tend to want my death sequences to be filled with the sounds of pig guts being catapulted into waxed glass walls while the harrowing wails of the nations children cry for the loss of their fathers, not the pffff of an old lady fart. For so much build up and often near-perfect tension, Dark Nature, seems to always back away from the violence. I don’t need every film to be drenched in blood, sweat and tears, but if it’s going to have it, I’d at least like to get a little squeamish. Driven forth by a beautifully arranged piano score Dark Nature, builds and builds and builds always challenging the viewer to feel comfortable while at the same time worrying about what might kill you next (usually it’s the psychopath with the hatchet hiding in the shed, but shit, you shouldn’t have gone in there in the first place.)

Ending in a climactic game of “Hide and Go Kill”, Dark Nature, serves as a prime example of the need for home renovation in rural Scotland. Fix your creaky stairs, make sure you have all your keys, double check the stove before you go out, fortify your hiding spots and never, I repeat never, wait beside your bear traps to see if they end up working, you’ll just end up blowing your cover or getting impatient and trying it out for yourself.

-Detroit Burns

Must Love Death

Directed by Andreas Schaap

Offhand, it’s difficult to think of another film that features both a “meet cute” and a nail gun, but in his first feature, Andreas Schaap manages to unite the two. Must Love Death, for better or worse, belongs to a genre of one: the torture porn romantic comedy. It also serves as an outsider’s view of American pop culture, being as it is directed and written by a German (with a mostly-German cast and crew) – it’s the surrealist Dancer in the Dark, if you will. (To be fair, though, Schaap doesn’t seem to share Von Trier’s deathly fear of flight, as most of the film was actually shot in New York.)

After a raunchy opening scene lets us know we’re in for a bumpy ride, the film’s first 45 minutes alternate between the most banal romcom imaginable – a sadsack musician, Norman (Sami Loris), falls for an obnoxious actor’s girlfriend (Marion Kahle) after she hits him with is car – and flashforwards in which Loris meets up with a group of supposedly likeminded folks to stage a group suicide in a remote cabin in New Jersey. If you’re expecting complete tonal discord, you might be surprised at how Schaap treats wildly divergent material with the same aesthetic – scenes of doggedly conventional courtship sit immediately next to interminable scenes of gory torture, but are treated as having been cut from the same cloth. Perhaps that’s attributable to Schaap’s go-for-broke approach to taking on American pop – country music, gangsta rap, reality television, and celebrity culture are all present for a skewering, in a manner no more subtle than you’d expect from a filmmaker who throws in scene transitions such as blood dripping from an impaled foot becoming raspberry sauce topping off a sundae.

Like most genre directors, Schaap has a tricky time with interpersonal drama, and it’s hard not to notice that he pulls off the gory bits with considerably more panache than his “romantic” material. As a result, the more the violence escalates, the more paradoxically grounded his film feels, so that as the body count rises, so does the film’s credibility. Death is precisely as disjointed as you’d expect, but it’s hard to deny it possesses a certain charm – its cultural critique may be broad and obvious, but it never feels smug or without justification. If nothing else, its scenes of romantic preening and sadistic torture provide an invaluable reference point for any filmgoer who’s ever been forced to sit through the likes of New In Town.

- Simon Howell

“Like Ed Wood, Nguyen is an auteur with a dream and while we may laugh at the movie, we can’t laugh at the fact that he got the job done…”

Birdemic: Shock and Terror

Directed by James Nguyen

On the list of movies so bad they’re good, we must now add James Nguyen’s Birdemic: Shock and Terror. The most recent candidate for the title of worst movie of all time, Birdemic has surely carved out a place in the pantheon of midnight movies along side such classics as Ed Wood’s Plan 9 From Outer Space, Troll 2 and last year’s hipster cult sensation The Room. The Sundance reject soars above the terrible movie heavens, opening with extended slow scenes of the hero, cardboard-bland, dim-witted salesman Rod, driving across northern California in his blue Mustang. We meet his girlfriend Nathalie, a hopelessly vapid would-be model. The two apparently have sex (and sleep) with their clothes on as well as hang out at vacant local pubs (no money for extras) with the exception of the lead singer of a local band (minus the band). During the first painfully drawn-out 45 minutes of boy meets girl, we get just that. Plenty of driving, getting in and out of cars, inane dialogue and a dreadfully dull romance delivered with flat, emotionless acting.

While most other bad movies have some redeeming features, Birdemic has none. Birdemic features poor sound mixing, cheap foley work, repetitive, tilted camera framing, stretching tracking shots that pan across restaurant walls and empty vistas, bad musical interludes, horrible editing and imbecilic dialogue that barely resembles how real people talk.

Let’s also not forget the uniformly bad acting; the entire casts seems to insist on reading Nguyen’s script exactly as written. “It’s the human species that needs to quit playing cowboy with nature. We must act more like astronauts, spacemen taking care of Spaceship Earth.”

Look out for the background newscasts about global warming, stranded polar bears and heatwaves. Didn’t you know? Nguyen stuffs his nest with his pro-peace, pro-green message while giving a shout-out to An Inconvenient Truth (a great first date flick) and promoting Yoko Ono’s website, ImaginePeace.com. And just imagine – I haven’t even mentioned the poorly rendered CGI eagles and vultures nor the explanation as to why the heroes try to defend themselves with coat hangers or why the birds occasionally spit acid or explode.

Nguyen, a Silicon Valley software salesman by day, bought a camera, and without benefit of any sort of training, decided to film a tribute to Hitchcock’s The Birds in his spare time. On a budget of $10,000 Nguyen’s film may not have any story, nor decent production values, but it does have craft and his DIY fingerprints are in every shot. Like Ed Wood, Nguyen is an aspiring auteur with a dream and while we may laugh at the movie, we can’t laugh at the fact that he got the job done – and more importantly, found a way to make millions of people see it and find a distributor (yes, it actually got picked up and is set for a sequel as well).

Ricky D

“Class of Nuke’em High is a great intermediary between the higher-end Troma productions such as the Toxic Avenger franchise and the ‘sexy comedies’ Kaufman focused on earlier in his directing career.”

Class Of Nuke’em High

Directed by Richard W. Haines

Every Troma Entertainment release provides a sense of familiarity to its viewers; not only because they have a tendency to re-use scenes in more than one movie, but because their self-effacing style and deranged approach is exactly what you come to expect from a Lloyd Kaufman production.

Class of Nuke’em High is no different, as this 1986 film saw Kaufman (directing here as Samuel Weil) fresh off the success of his landmark creation, The Toxic Avenger. All of the typical B-movie attributes are here, and then some: outlandish costumes and make-up, insanely cheap special effects, a continuous soundtrack in the background and of course, a ton of frontal nudity.

Though not as gory or elaborate as future Troma Entertainment productions, Class of Nuke’em High actually contains a better storyline. The students at Tromaville high school, on the outskirts of the Tromaville Nuclear Plant, have been acting weird lately. No, it’s not because they were given scripts written by Kaufman and Haines, but rather because the weed the ‘Cretins’ (a local gang) have been buying and selling from a power plant official is actually grown near the plant itself. Upon smoking it, hilarity and hijinks ensue.

The second half of the movie will please traditional Troma fans, as it introduces a particularly familiar monster (some kind of Alien/Hellraiser hybrid), and a lot more slash and splat. The whole thing kind of unravels towards the end but it’s to our advantage, as zanier punchlines and more dramatic, gratuitous effects take prominence.

Class of Nuke’em High is a great intermediary between the higher-end Troma productions such as the Toxic Avenger franchise and the ‘sexy comedies’ Kaufman focused on earlier in his directing career. As one high school student smugly suggests early on in the film, “even if there was a little radiation around here, who gives a shit?” We’re thankful Kaufman carries that attitude into every one of his productions.

- Myles Dolphin

http://www.troma.com/

“a world where hookers, pedophiles and violent-murderous creeps are all second fiddle to a killer Easter Bunny”

Easter Bunny Kill! Kill!

Directed by Chad Ferrin

Leaving your mentally challenged children at home has never been more dangerous.  Around every corner lies creepo-freak-a-zoids willing to trade your body for coke just to get a little taste.  But that’s not the worse of it, if they don’t get you murderous Easter Bunnies will…or the paid Hispanic help which always seem to be trying to rob you.  Easter Bunny Kill! Kill! (which bares no resemblance to the film of which the title suggests) is a raunchy dark splotch of a movie on a piece of blank paper. Its low budget DIY attitude and valiant steps in creating utterly gutterly reactions make it a fun watch while not becoming too much of an homage or a hostile attempt. The story, a night of terror in which a mentally handicapped boy is trapped in a world where hookers, pedophiles and violent-murderous creeps are all second fiddle to a killer Easter Bunny who’s taking out the trash.

Filmed in sleek HD video and supported by a simplistic yet effective score, Easter Bunny Kill Kill stands out from the rest of the straight to DVD over the top amateur horror jargon.  With a sense of dark humor (which isn’t entirely being forced upon us) Easter Bunny manages to both crack a few jokes and blast the screen with guts, without feeling too cheap or amateurish.  These films are best when they work against their obvious setbacks.  With little to no talent involved in neither their cast nor the proper funding to fully explore their ideas, Bunny truly makes the best of what it’s got.  At times the film comes off a bit too clique but that’s what’s so great about the DIY cheap horror film.  Anyone with a little bit of guts can go out and do it, inspirational no? It’s just rare that these films end up being worth watching outside of the local circle in which they were spawned.  Get this, I don’t really find dudes in Easter bunny masks scary. Masks in general aren’t scary. I mean Michael Myers was scary but in a I’m 6’10 kinda way.  Dudes in bunny masks just make me think of stuffed animals, potpourri and Sesame Street and I never liked Sesame Street.  Probably because I was never was able to associate with the neighborhoodly feel it went for.  It’s just that in my hood I wasn’t surrounded by talking stuffed nightmares being fisted by some dude with a beard and a wild sense of imagination trying to trick me into learning something.

What Chad Ferrin has here is an honest addition to an oversaturated b grade genre.  This movie isn’t gonna thrill you but if you’re considering watching it then it’s probably worth it.  I mean anyone who is “considering” watching a movie with a name like Easter Bunny Kill Kill is probably in it for the right reasons. The good things in this movie are for you (creepo) the bad things are for the people who shouldn’t have watched it in the first place.

-Detroit Burns

“…the ultimate relationship between the Director, his camera and his star.”

You can imagine why I was apprehensive at first when delivered Warning!!! Pedophile Released and Amateur Porn Star Killer from Cinema Epoch.  Justifiably worried that when entered into any web search engine, my name would now turn out Warning! Pedophile Released and Amateur Porn Star Killer, along with all the other expected results; hot guy, smart brain, super-hero-muscle-winner-best-person-Canadian-Gandhi.  With that being said both these films proved to be more than their titles suggested and surprised me like a bear in an alley killing a porn star while on stilts (Shouldn’t you be in the woods? Stupid lost bear.)

Warning!!! Has a lot going for it.  At times the gritty next to no dialogue film can resemble both the absurd beauty of a Harmony Korine film, with the straight to DVD bargain bin feel of a modern trash film. Regardless of how the film looks or works, the emotion and heart is inarguably present.  Crafted under the able hands of one-man wrecking crew, Shane Ryan, along with the help of star and co-writer, Kai Lanette, Warning!!! develops into the ultimate relationship between the Director, his camera and his star.  Using this intimate relationship the film creates an unabashed look into street life and what it’s like to be a vulnerable girl in a dangerous world, which as a young man I’ve never experienced, but through my D & D performances I can imagine the dangers (i.e. dragons, wizards and date rapists.)

“…(Ryan) perversions don’t seem to be something he wants to leave in the closet.”

Another fine example of this young filmmaker’s gusto is Amateur Porn Star Killer.  Shot entirely on hand-held grainy digital film, APSK mends both the exploitative trash you’d expect out of a 70’s Grindhouse picture with a contemporary artistic flare and command over it’s new digital medium. Using inter-titles, multi-projections, and shot exclusively through a home video look, APSK is a rough cut into the world of Snuff films.  The film’s amateurish cast both adds a genuine feel to the film and yet at the same time pulls the viewer out due to their off attempts at over-acting. Think bad acting and overacting as in John Waters or Lloyd Kaufman’s early films, now assume that this films isn’t as good as those and you’re getting warmer. However, slandering this film for its lack of talent would be cheap. If these films fail it isn’t due to their lack of effort but simply due to their repetitive nature.

The occasionally awkwardly performed or poorly executed scene, serve to remind us that this truly is an independent film, constructed almost entirely by the writer, editor and director, Ryan. For this I applaud the filmmaker, who’s perversions don’t seem to be something he wants to leave in the closet like the majority of us do, instead he release them onto the screen in a foray of wanton amateurish smut (and I mean all of that in a good way.)

Both these films at times can be trying but their determination and drive in being higher-grade exploitative cinema, make them like the real ugly girl at a party whose willing to do anything, you just can’t get them out of your mind. So take these films home, make them a strong drink, put on some Roberta Flack and just do it, but don’t tell any of your friends about it because they might call you a manwhore.

-Detroit Burns

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“A film that’s fun but ultimately looks like more fun to make than to watch”

Meat Weed America

Directed by Aiden Dillard

I’m all for tits & ass in fact it was my nickname throughout kindergarten until I found out what it was and took further protection to not get the cooties. Blood and guts, and poops and pees are both staple characteristic traits in some of my favorite movies. It’s for these reasons that Troma has always been a true friend of mine. What other film company can throw tits, guts and feces into a scene as effortlessly as Troma does? That’s why when I got a copy of one of their most recent releases, Aiden Dillard’s Meat Weed America, a follow-up to the previously released Meat Weed Madness (2006), I was amply prepared for the stupidest, ugliest, goriest, gag-fest that the film so valiantly claims to be.

Obviously this film is raunchy. Imagine if you puked in a bag and let it sit out in the sun for awhile and then poured it over cheesecake and served it to the old folks at the retirement center you work at because you can’t hold down a job which doesn’t involve wiping rippled asses and hearing the same stories over and over again, telling them in was a fancy French dessert.  If you were unfortunate enough to have seen Uwe Boll’s Postal (2007) then you can assure yourself that this film is no different, other than the fact it’s a Troma film. Both films have unexpected penises (Dave Foley’s wang in Postal was divine but introducing your film Meat Weed America while dancing naked in the woods is just as metaphoric), and both films rely on the audiences love of poop and pot jokes while maintaining the constant threat of female nudity to keep audience members watching (“If there’s a boob coming out I’M going to see it” said with both thumbs pointing towards face). They also both have an assumption that we find terrorist-spoofs funny. I kinda feel like when Trey Parker did it in 2004 with Team America it was already old, he just banked on the fact that puppets are so cool because they look like humans but aren’t. At least I think they aren’t but they very well might have stolen our souls and now possess the power to become human (and we’ll talk about the cyborg/human debate at a later date).

The plot revolves around a circumcised terrorist and his band of scantily clad lady militia trying to take back the circumcision from the evil Lord Meatwood. Our hero, Bin Smokin’, must siege the castle in order to retain his missing foreskin before Lord Meatwood turns it into the highly potent, highly addictive marijuana!

You’ll get exactly what you expect with Meat Weed America, a film that’s fun but ultimately looks like more fun to make than to watch. Still you can’t fault them for having a good time. Guaranteed to make a party 2 step with confused anger/excitement, especially if you put it on in the background without volume.

- Detroit Burns

Dad not worry it’s not the flu, Mom’s Sheppard Pie or puberty, it’s just Shameless Tasteless. If you like Troma style humour with a touch of John Waters sex-appeal, this is not to be missed. Offering a guttural belch of life in the Ukraine, and serving up what essentially is the complete opposite of Pretty Woman, Levi makes whoring fun for the whole family.

Highlights include, Penisella, the petite Russian babe with the massive 12-inch schlong.  Her “burden” leaves her yearning for love, while leading her in all the wrong places. Guys just don’t seem to see her for who she truly is, all they see is a 12inch cock. Also included, is the babushka from hell. This sweet wittle wold waydey, is nothing like what she pretends to be. Hiding behind that sweet pirogue filled smile and her friendly demeanour, is a devilish desire for torture, abuse and life-long friendship aka kidnapping yo’ soul 4 life sucka! These plus the countless “ohh, you” Baba Alla moments are well worth the price of admission alone, however, there’s no way this film will ever play anywhere other than in your Dad’s nightmares, over and over again, so check out Troma’s website for more info.

- Detroit Burns