Tag Archives: I want to die

No friend of Dorothy


0.5 Stars  2008/15/85m

Director/Writer: Steven James Creazzo / Cast: Vincent J. Mazella, Denise Filosa, Steven James Creazzo, Ronnie Petricevich, Jaimi Williams, Bob Fletcher.

Body Count: 9

Dire-logue: “Just because he’s your husband doesn’t mean you know him.”

An experience akin to watching someone’s vacation footage where they got bored and decided to make a little film for laughs. If only I could’ve clicked my heels together to teleport out of this nightmare…

A man returns to his hometown several years after his parents were murdered. The killer was never found. Everyone thinks he did it. Some of the locals have knowledge of the facts and they find themselves eliminated by a loon in a rubber skull mask.

As if the camcorder footage isn’t painful enough, the acting, gore effects and even wardrobe all serve to magnify how horrible watching No Place Like Home is: one of the two cops in town wears a variety of sleeveless tops in pastel colours and with a huge pirate-style earring and Seagal-themed mini-ponytail.

There’s a great scene where one poor idiot gets his arm lopped off with your everyday saw (in one motion, no less) and just looks at it with absolutely no expression on his face. Later, once the true identity of the killer has been unveiled, he apologises for a previous crime like he’d reversed into the person’s car: “yeah sorry about that, killed your parents, didn’t mean to…”

And where the hell did the two children disappear to?

While credits outtakes show just how low budget this film was, it’s only worth watching if you like horrendously slow fist fights, girl fights, and the pinnacle of stunts is a guy jumping over the bonnet of a car.

Rubbish films that don’t deserve long reviews

…And no screencaps either, God damn it! They suck, so adding what I believe to be ‘good shots’ from any of them might only pique your interest. And then you’ll go and watch them, realise I was right all along and come back yelling at me.

We’re going in order of what I think looks best.


1.5 Stars 1985/18/84m

“Who is innocent… Who is guilty… Who is safe… Who is next…?”

Director: Arne Mattson / Writer: Volodia Semitjov / Cast: Rdo Taylor, Christopher Lee, Valerie Perrine, Sam Cook, Terrence Hardiman, Frank Brennan.

Body Count: 7

Look at those big-hitters: Christopher Lee! Rod Taylor! The guy who played The Demon Headmaster in The Demon Headmaster!

Lee reportedly turned down the role of Doc Loomis in Halloween and was perhaps therefore under the illusion that taking a clone of that role for this Scando-Canadian production might bathe that wound. How they sucked Taylor in is a mystery. Maybe Lee brought him in. Maybe Lee was already stuck like his legs were in a combine harvester and he held on to Taylor until both were dragged to their deaths career nadirs.

They and Sam Cook are cops in a small Canadian town where a loon in a shitty cotton mask is slicing the throats of young women. They find him and shoot him dead but only a few days later copycat killings begin – but whoooo could it beeeee?

Trouble is, MoM can’t make up its mind over being a slasher film or a cop film. The victims are presented as non-speaking plebs or women who ‘had it coming’ and there’s no heroine to speak of, no chase scenes, nada. We do get to see some frontal male nudity (gasp!) and there’s a boring subplot about an affair going on between one of the cops and the wife of the other one who isn’t Christopher Lee, because he’s in hospital for most of it.

The obnoxious twist ending is smug as can be but it doesn’t elevate this above being a bad combo meal of seasoned professionals surrounded by rank amateurs that has the audacity to rip off the far superior He Knows You’re Alone.

Blurbs-of-shame: Lee was in Sleepy Hollow and the even worse Funny Man.

* * *


2002/15/77m  1 Stars

“Would you ever…?”

Director: Max Makowski / Writer: Gary Fisher / Cast: January Jones, Nick Stahl, Amber Benson, Eddie Kaye Thomas, Lori Heuring, Derek Hamilton.

Body Count: 6

Six egotistical Cruel Intentions-type college brats gather at a remote mansion on New Year’s Eve where they engage in a polite game of Taboo, which entails writing answers to some risque questions like Would you have sex with a minor? Would you have sex for money? blah blah blah…

At midnight, a package containing five cards arrives, labelled Prostitute, Homosexual, Infidel, Rapist and Hypocrite (ooh, that one’s gonna sting!) Lo and behold, bodies start stacking up, each found with the appropriate card.

However, all of this happens too early to fool us and it’s all revealed to be a gag at the expense of Jones, the only one not to get a card and has apparently been blackmailing the others. When they seemingly forgive her and move on, Hypocrite flips, takes a shotgun and begins offing the others. Told you it was gonna sting.

With the cheater-weapon in play, Taboo is a very boring stalk n’ shoot with next to no grue and it ends with an entirely dull poison murder-suicide pact thing. But at least they’re all dead.

Buffy alumni Amber Benson is endearing as the ever-wrecked Piper but she truly deserves better exposure than this crap, which fails to impress on any scale, becoming taboo itself for reasons of taste.

Blurb-of-shame: Derek Hamilton was Eddie in Ripper: Letter from Hell.

* * *


1.5 Stars  2002/18/82m

“Join the club.”

Directors: Devin Hamilton & Dennis Peterson / Writer: Devin Hamilton / Cast: Debbie Rochon, Allen Nabors, Danny Wolske, Orly Tepper, Laura Nativo, Ronnie Gene Blevins, Julie Strain, Brinke Stevens.

Body Count: 9

Dire-logue: “You wanna see tits? Well here they are and fuck you!”

Another post-Screamie with all the budget of a shopping trip to Aldi that has lonely new girl in LA Maddy (Rochon) seduced by her boss and then inducted into his snobby circle of friends who fool her into thinking they’re all part of The Murder Club and have each offed a stranger to surf the adrenalin rush.

Poor naive Maddy takes it the wrong way and kills a woman she has a ruckus with. The others regroup and decide what they should do but by then the white-masked psycho who, until now, has been chopping up various extras starts doing away with them in their homes.

Is it Maddy? After all her mom (Brinke in a flashback) and dad chucked her out years earlier? No. It’s someone else.

The trouble with Bleed is that it’s an out and out retread filmed almost entirely in back yards and apartments with dialogue exchanges used to staple the plot holes together; for instance, Maddy goes on one date with her boss and is invited to a party the next day where a group of complete strangers decide to let her in on their “big secret!”

In spite of some production polish and the ever-lovely Rochon, Bleed sucks out more tolerance than claret.

Blurbs-of-shame: Rochon has also been in American Nightmare, Blood Relic, Final Examination and Head Cheerleader, Dead Cheerleader; Julie Strain was in Psycho Cop Returns.

* * *


2007/15/87m  1 Stars

“Welcome to Grockleton.”

Director: Peter Stanley-Ward / Writers: Natalie Conway & Peter Stanley-Ward / Cast: Greg Martin, Chris R. Wright, Simon Stanley-Ward, Hannah Flint, Dan Palmer, Jon Nicholas, James Ford, Sophie Rundle, Tamaryn Payne, Warwick Davis.

Body Count: 16

Cheap shows for pre-schoolers often include effects work that looks like a crayon drawing has been scanned into a Mac and then actors are superimposed over the top of it. Fine. Baby Susie isn’t going to get angry with crap production values at her age. But in a horror film…? Just… No.

Had it not taken four years to create and been funded by the cast and crew, this would unquestionably be a native of half-star city.

Unexplained men near the town of Grockleton in the New Forest kidnap women to procreate ‘their kind’ and murder any men who get in the way. Enter a married couple “on an adventure” and some local teens fooling around in the woods and… and… and fuck it, I don’t know what was going on.

As it was originally intended to be a short, there just ain’t enough her to justify history’s longest 87 minutes. There are more than half a dozen killers running around cracking misfired jokes, tormenting Grockles (non-locals) and talking in a bizarre thespian sub-language.

I’d wager 95% of the budget went on securing the three-minute Warwick Davis cameo that bookends the story. Britain’s Got Talent – yeah? Where is it when you need it?

Blurb-of-shame: Dan Palmer was in the marginally more amusing Freak Out.

* * *


1.5 Stars  2002/15/84m

“A real life horror.”

Director: Dale Resteghini / Writers: Dale Resteghini & Carl Washington / Cast: Demetrius Gibbs, Erin O’Donnell, Badia Stewart, Ross Filler, Leroy Jones, Rosario M. Gancitano, Wayne Mogel, G-Flex.

Body Count: 9

In the 80’s, mucho slasher filmage associated itself with hair metal and, in several examples, featured doomed rock bands pitted against a loon with a blade. So time (sadly) moves on and thus this millennial slasher centres around the fortunes of growing rap quintet The Supernatchrals, who find various members of their entourage are being knocked off by a maniac dressed as a clown – as they always seem to be in urban bodycount pics.

For a shot-on-video feature, Urban Massacre doesn’t look bad but, unless you’re well versed in rap and hip-hop (safe to say I’m not), much of the dialogue – largely consisting of ‘fuck you’, ‘fuck him’, ‘fuck that’ – will be lost on you.

While intermittent rap numbers and “statements” on the companion culture to downright racism are testing, at the end the feisty fivesome (three guys, two gals) literally have the killer pinned down, stop, look at the camera and tell the audience they will not unmask him as we will have to wait for ‘Part Two’.


Given this 11th hour atrocity – especially when the pre-credits practically spelt out the identity and motive – all points gained immediately return to zero. It’s insulting and hypocritical, especially as the characters have spent eighty minutes whining about racial injustice and forcing their shit brand of “music” on us, yet they’ve seen fit to halt the film completely and cut back to another cruddy rap number.

For slasher-but-not-rap fans (me), the chubby white MC in the group occasionally spouts pointless horror movie trivia but everything else is about as memorable – and credible – as Vanilla Ice’s last album.

Drive-In Masochism


0.5 Stars  1976/18/71m

“You’ll pay to get in…and pray to get out!”

Director: Stuart Segall / Writers: Godfrey Daniels, Buck Flowers & John Goff / Cast: Jake Barnes, Adam Lawrence, Douglas Gudbye, Newton Naushaus, Norman Sherlock.

Body Count: 6

Pay to rent it, pray to forget it. Although, I must say the taglines shown on this particular artwork are pretty cool, spesh that WARNING: The red stuff on your hot dog may not be ketchup. Hell yeah! But here the good times endeth.

Pre-dating the main flux of slasher films by a few years, Drive-In Massacre only flirts with the accepted conventions, beginning well enough with a grisly double sword-murder at a Californian drive-in. Everything is then punctured and it deflates like a bouncy castle, smothering all the kids as it dies when we meet two boring cops (Barnes and Lawrence) who investigate the murders, focusing in one a guy who likes to spy on lovers and “beat his meat” – but then becomes one of the next victims.

There’s no final girl, no group of happy teenagers being bumped off one by one, only a handful of murders and a whole other story about some abused little girl running away from her nasty daddy that just begins to ‘happen’ towards the end.

There’s then the ‘twist’ – the killer just stops murdering people and we don’t find out who it was or why he/she was doing it. All of these elements make this THE worst slasher film I’ve ever seen. I loathe it to the very core of the fire of a thousand suns.

Blood will flow… Talent, not so much


0.5 Stars  2005/18/92m

A.k.a. Sickle (UK)

“Blood will flow…”

Director/Writer: Paul Gagne / Cast: Shaila Vaidya, Paul Cagney, Maurizio Farhad, Stacey Denson, Jacob Bailey, Vaedynn Orland.

Body Count: 6

Dire-logue: “Do you think she’s hot with her big tits and no panties?”

If the world could find a single use for Simon Cowell, it would be to send him to the numerous idiots who think a camcorder, a carton of corn syrup and a nude chick kissing another nude chick will be enough to get their slasher film to DVD and just tell them no. No, in big shouty words, backed by Tina Turner singing “You’re simply the worst…” No.

With Cowell otherwise engaged ass-raping popular music, we’re left alone to suffer through the conglomerate of shit that ass-rapes the slasher genre that is The Slaughterhouse Massacre, which, according to the DVD box is more frightening than The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Yes, yes it is, although I’m sure the original intentions that quote had quite a different sense of ‘frightening’ in mind.

Two jock-jerks and their annoying girlfriends explore an abandoned abattoir rumoured to be haunted by the ghost of Marty Sickle. Sickle, that common surname of Joe Public. Why do they always insist on giving their killers “ironic” names in these cheapo projects? Robert Hatchet. Simon Axewielder. Lucy AK47.

Sickle was lynched for a murder years earlier, of course. What else could you do with that surname? A mock seance soon brings dire consequences when the maniac is resurrected and begins killing them.

All you really need to do is copy some good scenes from other horror films to at least make it look like you know what works. And yet, here every single scene is dragged out to the maximum lengths of human tolerance in order to reach a feature running time and with only four characters in peril, things get very boring very fast.

Ancillaries are introduced only to disappear from the film long before any of the horror begins, proving that neither the budget nor imagination of the writer/director could accommodate them. So we get offensive pandering to the supposed adolescent male demographic instead with completely unrequired girl-on-girl action and intermittent stoner ‘comedy’.

The Slaughterhouse Massacre is simply the worst.

Valley of the Cheapjack Franchises: HORROR 101

More cheapo “chills” at the expense of my time and money exploring the films that I only advise you to avoid – this time I stroll down the memory lane populated by the dismally boring Horror 101 and it’s sensationally titled sequel, Horror 102, which came to me some time ago in a double pack with a freebie third film called Museum of the Dead.



1 Stars  2000/89m

Director: James Glenn Dudelson / Writers: Valorie Connally, Jenny McPhee & Daniel Miller / Cast: Bo Derek, Justin Urich, Josh Holland, Lisa Gordon, Brigitta Dau, Paityn James, Michael Moon, Scott Rinker, Jason Wolk.

Body Count: uh…

A weird one for VeVo as Horror 101 is one of those sonofabitch films that merely pretends it’s a slasher film, revealing that it’s some PG-13 film club production shot in four hours when it’s already too late!

To be truthful, I can’t remember much about Horror 101 other than the wake of anger I was left treading water in once my DVD player kind of spat the disc out in disgust. I don’t keep notes on non-slasher films so I’ll try and sum it up for you in as detailed a manner as I can:

Film class stays after hours for some seminar on horror. Or the emotion of fear. They have made some films of their own. Nobody likes one of the guys who is outcasty and therefore suspicious. Bo Derek is their teacher. They all begin wandering off to investigate strange noises or look for whomever wandered off to investigate a strange noise three minutes earlier.

BUT, people aren’t stabbed or sliced – they just vanish into thin air until a grandiose twist is unveiled. But it sucks. It really sucks and I stared slack-jawed at the screen asking some higher force why it was that somebody would every create this abortion of horror.

Weirdly, outcasty guy was played by Justin Urich, who also appeared in this film called Serial Killing 101, which also turned out not to be a slasher film despite pretending to be one also. That strangeness aside, play hookie and skip class.


horror102HORROR 102: ENDGAME

 2004/89m  1.5 Stars

“Winner kills all.”

Director/Writer: Ana Clavell / Cast: Melissa Frederick, Anna Lerbom, Jeremy Aldridge, Simon Zonatto, Michael Moon, Christopher Hawkins, Shasa Dabner, Lukas Langer, Joshua Allen Heck.

Body Count: 8

Dire-logue: “What are you gonna do, marinate me?”

Yes, it’s better – by half a star. But that’s only because it’s enough of a slasher flick to count. So don’t skip out merrily thinking you’ll be entertained by repeated viewings.

This time, a group of mixed students have agreed to take part in a psychology experiment as an act of atonement for a variety of campus misdemeanours. They’re to spend an unspecified amount of time in the closed down Bellepark Asylum, where they’re duly stalked and slain by a hooded killer. I only noticed then typing out the cast roster that one of the actors from 101 returned to a different role.

While the most measly of measly margins better than 101, it’s nevertheless an endurance test: murders are largely off-camera or shot in such a way as to restrict the bloodshed in order to pass for a PG-13 rating again and there’s some nonsensical gibberish about hauntings and LSD trips thanks to laced-bread!

Characters are the usual hodge-podge of genre stereotypes and, at one point, one of them takes charge and tells everyone to stay together before announcing he’s going to check on somebody else alone… What aids the film in the end is the twist, which is not as predictable as it initially seems but it’d still need a goddamn miracle to scrape even a complete second star.

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