Tag Archives: who finances this crap!?

GUTTERBALLS

gutterballs2 Stars  2008/96m

“Heads will roll bowl.”

Director/Writer: Ryan Nicholson / Cast: Alastair Gamble, Mihola Terzic, Nathan Witte, Wade Gibb, Candice Lewald, Dan Ellis, Jeremy Beland, Trevor Gemma, Nathan Dashwood, Scott Alonzo, Jimmy Blais, Danielle Munro, Stephanie Schlacter, Saraphina Bardeaux.

Body Count: 13

Dire-logue: “Those balls are shitty and used…just like your underwear.”


Sometimes a product seems to garner a word of mouth that doesn’t ring true. Such was the case of Gutterballs last year; such a great, nostalgic slasher flick yadda yadda yadda… My spider senses told me otherwise and, quite smugly, I was proven right when I watched it earlier today. Talk about nauseating…

Within a few minutes, we’re subjected to an extreme close up of a mini-skirt, no-pants-wearing girl’s undercarriage. Graphically. This is accompanied by two groups of people, a quartet of guys who hate the other pack, some girls, a pre-snip transvestite and three other guys (I wasn’t sure who they were), shouting obscenities at each other and no more. Barely a sentence of the following 95 minutes goes by without the word ‘fuck’ in it. I swear like a brickie but have an extensive enough vocab to get through most social situations without having to, something these folks are incapable of.

A fight breaks out that leads to the gang-rape of no-pants, who eventually has a skittle shoved up shown crack. Naturally, she is upset about this and when the entire cast return to the Xcalibur Lanes the next night, they’re locked in and picked off one by one by a psycho with a bag over his head, who favours using sharpened skittles and bowling balls to kill. There’s a grim member-slicing moment for the tranny and a head shoved in a ball polisher before numbers are whittled down to the last couple for the obligatory unmasking and exposition blah, by which time I was both bored and tired.

Gutterballs does try in some areas, there’s a funky sub-disco soundtrack and little reliance of modern technology to aid the victims but it’s all crushed beneath a script so horribly dismal that the actors are given absolutely no range to work with, they’re just antagonistic assholes who can’t utter a profanity-free sentence. It’s odd to see so much male nudity, albeit some prosthetic but the film is just a train wreck of juvenile cliches seemingly designed to make morons laugh at the excesses of gore and skin on parade, glued together with crap dialogue but hearing “the C word” every fifth sentence, wanton homophobia and a plot my three-year-old nephew could’ve written doesn’t do it for me. Spend your rental money on a couple of games at the bowl-o-plex.

TO BECOME ONE

tobecomeone

1 Stars  2000/18/88m

“Family reunions are KILLER!”

Director/Writer: Neil Johnson / Cast: Emma Grasso, Jay Gallagher, David Vallon, Spencer Slasberg, James Giddens, Miranda Podleska, Izumi Pennicott, Jade Bilowol, Michelle Milne, Chris Heywood.

Body Count: 9

Dire-logue: “We’re playing this out like some B-grade movie. Five kids locked away in some isolated shack. When the killer finds us he’s gonna pick us off one by one.”


Oh, sweet Lord! If you ever thought nothing called To Become One could be worse than the Spice Girls song 2 Become 1 – think again! OK, so it was reportedly produced for $2,000, so well done filmmakers on getting that far. Positive attributes end here.

A surefire contender for worst of the worst, this Aussie flick changes genres at the centre point from standardized slasher to something that resembles that Halloween Simpsons episode where Bart discovers he has an identical twin.

A year after her mother was chopped in two, Melinda and her klepto friends find themselves being bumped off by a killer wearing a My Bloody Valentine-esque industrial gas-mask. Seven teens – nearly all girls – are murdered in the first half hour, with the remaining few under the illusion that driving out into the country will put them out of harms way. Said folks chat amiably some minutes after watching two friends incinerated by a car bomb. Once everyone who doesn’t matter is gone, the killer unmasks and reveals himself to be Melinda’s twin brother, separated from her at birth and on leave from the loopy asylum he takes her back to for a re-joining operation by a God-deluded doc.

The wheels finally fall off the wagon at this revelation and it becomes one of those girls-must-escape-all-the-gurning-loonies plots and characters thought dead return from the grave for a contemptuously predictable ending. The occasionally slick presentation does little to aid this festering turd of a film and the opening murder, shot in sepia and inter-cut with a small girl staring into space, completely defies explanation!

88 minutes of pain. This is the cinematic equivalent of root canal surgery.

SILO KILLER

silo11 Stars  2002/89m

“It’s harvest time!”

Director/Writer: Bill Koning / Cast: Brandon Malone, Katie Carroll, Carter Hagerman, Jared Conti, Brian Reid, Jamie Morris, Heather Morris, Dana Ratcliff, Sandra Quoos, Richard Kindle.

Body Count: 20

Dire-logue: “You are dumber than a bag of shit.”


Just because The Blair Witch Project raked in a huge profit ratio doesn’t mean any talentless dickheads with camcorders should put their own 90 minutes of shit on to home video for retail. Such is the background of Silo Killer, an antagonistically dreadful gathering of slasher off-cuts that manifests itself in a badly produced, sexist, and even racially ambiguous end product.

After the obligatory murder-of-a-teenage-girl opening, a group of teens (some of whom don’t even seem to know each other) go camping in the dusty plains of Arizona, despite both a dangerous escaped convict on the loose and a recent history of missing and murdered teenagers. They’re each killed off by an axe-wielding nut hiding behind a rubbery Old Father Time mask before the surprisingly blunt twist that is just unexpected enough to save Silo Killer from half-star hell.

Not only is the acting the pits, but the characters themselves are possibly the most annoying group of people ever to grace the screen (especially the guy who ends up with all his limbs cut off). The external photography – which makes up most of the film – has a strong yellow tint to it (possibly piss) and the titular silo barely makes an appearance, which is a pity because watching a 90-minute still of it would be preferable to witnessing any of the thesps shouting their crappy lines. Unbelievably, this had since had a sequel! Ugh.

SLAUGHTER HOTEL

slaughterhotel2 Stars  1971/18/86m

“A place where nothing is forbidden.”

A.k.a. Asylum Erotica (UK DVD); The Beast Kills in Cold Blood; The Cold-Blooded Beast

Director/Writer: Fernando Di Leo / Writer: Nino Latino / Cast: Klaus Kinski, Margaret Lee, Rosalba Neri, Jane Garret, John Karlsen, Gioia Desideri, Monica Strebel.

Body Count: 11

Dire-logue: “Your desire to make love is obsessive; compulsive… Go and take a shower.”


Supposedly, men cannot go more than six seconds without thinking about sex. I don’t disagree with this assessment, but in a typical day of 16 waking hours, that’s 9,600 thoughts about sex. So…how many of those thoughts are bit sleazy?

In spite of itself, there’s nowt wrong with a bit of sleaze. It’s probably healthy! Ergo, how about this early Italian giallo that is practically dripping with sleaze? It’s certainly no Argento or Bava outing though; an institution in an old castle – seemingly only for glamorous, beautiful women – is the hunting ground for a cloaked killer who offs his victims with a variety of medieval weaponry.

Slaughter Hotel is less a horror film than some bizarro porn flick with interracial lesbian romps, endless scenes of naked women in bed, writhing with night terrors while doctors Kinski and Karlsen move around dishing up pop-psychology hypotheses’ for their fashionista patients. Bouncing along to a Loveboat-esque samba rhythm of flutes and various woodwind instruments, there’s precious little dialogue, most of which is badly dubbed and nudity far outweighs any violent content. In fact, half the body count is racked up in the last couple of minutes of the film, all of it female bar one poor schmuck who’s pushed into a handy iron maiden and skewered therein.

Kinski gives an uncharacteristically restrained performance in his thankless role while all the female characters simply drape themselves around set pieces waiting to be fucked of filleted. It’s a direlogue haven, as one man drives his gorked-out wife to the venue, she lunges for the steering wheel and, as if questioning an item on the shopping list, he says to her: “killing me is one thing but why commit suicide?” Indeed. Di Leo reportedly admitted never having researched institutions prior to the shoot, which is subtley evident in the finished product. A weird, weird experience that must be seen to be believed.

Blurbs-of-interest: the film is available on a variety of cuts, some with more of the sexual content cut than others. Kinski also played a shrink in Schizoid.

Rough Crossing

misMOON IN SCORPIO

1.5 Stars  1987/18/84m

“There’s a bad moon rising…”

Director: Gary Graver / Writer: Robert S. Aiken / Cast: Britt Ekland, John Phillip Law, William Smith, Louis Van Bergen, April Wayne, Jillian Kesner.

Body Count: 15

Dire-logue: “They were at each other like two roosters all the time.”


As if Blood Voyage wasn’t excruciating enough, how about a film that seems to want to replicate it? Britt Ekland takes the lead and does her career no favours by playing the sole survivor of a murderous rampage aboard a yacht, when three Vietnam vets reunite with their gals for a pleasure cruise.

Someone in the group has recently escaped from the psyche ward and is now killing off the group with a knife and a weird spear-gun thing after setting them adrift (although land is clearly visible in the background about forty yards away). Along with the three traumatised soldiers provoking suspicion, one of their girlfriends is a sexy oddball who keeps telling everybody that the moon is in Scorpio and, when asked what the hell that means, replies that it’s a time for revenge and retribution. Woooo… This, plus looped footage of the moon, are the only links to the otherwise insignificant title. I personally think Big Ass Yacht Massacre would’ve been better.

When the killer is finally revealed, it has absolutely sod all to do with the set up, the Vietnam flashbacks or half the things Ekland covers in her laughable narration, which includes such remarkable insights to the situation – and indeed the slasher subgenre – as: “Who was behind it?” and “When was it going to end?” Best of all is the mis-timed add-lib when one of the men topples on deck. Once he’s regained his composure, Britt says: “suddenly, John (?) fell over!” This yak-track alone awards an extra half star but this is a film only fit for self-harmers who’ve blunted their favourite razor blade.

Blurbs-of-interest: director Graver also helmed Trick or Treats and was the a cinematographer on Twisted Nightmare and Mortuary. Co-producer Fred Olen Ray has “contributed” to several genre films and directed Scalps.

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