Tag Archives: who finances this crap!?

R.S.V.P. with a big fat never


1 Stars  2000/90m

“Happy Deathday.”

Director/Writer: Mark Mason / Writer: Bonne Bond / Cast: Mark Mason, Jeff Howard, Tom Wescott, Laura Sellers, Rob Boyd, Asya West, Buddy Bord, Annette Rosenheck, Randy Ackerman.

Body Count: 13

Laughter Lines: “Looks like someone went crazy with a knife.”

I once had some correspondence with somebody involved with this one. They turned out to be a narcissistic bigot, so it was a something of a relief when the film turned out to suck.

Wrapped by 1995 but not released until 2000, this regional cheapo concerns one Henry Primo who, at his sixteenth birthday party, is drugged and subsequently goes on a two-minute killing spree whilst high.

Fifteen years later (never fourteen, never sixteen), Henry (played by the director, always a bad omen) is released from an asylum to live in a secure cell at the home of his well-to-do parents. From this point, nothing remotely interesting happens until the last twelve minutes, when he finally loses it and embarks on another rampage.

The bloated midriff of the film is occupied by Henry’s return to society and the anxieties of his old friends who survived the first massacre, including the guy who slipped him the drugs.

Script desperation culminates in a scene where Henry is invited to receive a special award at his high school reunion! And nobody protests! They even give him a round of applause because he saved a girl from a rampaging dog!

Just… no.

You mentioned something about a closet…?

The-Dark-Side-of-Midnight-1984THE DARK SIDE OF MIDNIGHT

0.5 Stars  1984/89m

A.k.a. The Creeper

Director/Writer/Producer/Star/Caterer/Janitor: Wes Olsen / Cast: James Moore, Wes Olsen, Dave Bowling, Sandy Schemmel, Rocky Jackson, Susan Frawley, Dan Myers.

Body Count: 6

Laughter Lines: “He broke her neck and crushed her skull with his bare hands – we’re dealing with a psychopath.”

To understand the experience that was watching The Dark Side of Midnight would be like trying to glean from somebody what it was like to survive something truly, truly terrible. However, if you go on to the film’s IMDb page there are a couple of posts from people who were in it, one of which states that the lead actress burst into tears when she saw it, and the composer walked out of the screening, never to return.

Doling out a half-star rating is as rare as a full five stars, as it should be in the bell curve that is film appreciation, although The Dark Side of Midnight made me laugh more than a few times, there’s no way in hell I could ever give it anything more.

dsom1A girl is murdered by a fiend hiding in her closet. The police investigate. The local mayor wants stories played down in case it effects the possibility of a university being built in their small town.

Soon after, a babysitter is stalked at her job, but survives, which is more than can be said for the six-year-old boy she was looking after, who is found in his bed with his throat cut, the only gore in the entire film! A dead child.

This is what ensues when the lead detective and hotshot profiler guy go to interview her:

  • Girl: “There was a man in the closet.”
  • Detective: “What closet?”
  • Girl: “Timmy’s closet. Timmy told me there was a man living inside his closet. I didn’t believe him. There was a man in his closet.”
  • Detective: “Timmy told you that a man lived in his closet?”
  • Girl: “Yes.”

1965453The mayor, pissed that the murder of a six-year-old makes the papers, devises an evil plan to get rid of the police chief so he can frame some homeless schmuck and secure the green light for the college build: He fakes a fall saying his sister is at death’s door in Canada.

Of course, the killer, now known to be The Creeper, wanted in Detroit for twelve murders, strikes again after the arrest, then goes after the chief’s daughter, who is dating the hotshot profiler guy.

Eventually, profiler guy’s knowledge of typewriters leads him to the killer, who lives in a small scale balsa wood model house and, well, y’all know how flammable that shit is.

The Dark Side of Midnight was made for around $10,000, which reportedly came from the director, who cast himself as hotshot profiler guy, and is a pure exercise in ineptitude at every level. Local theater actors with little to no in-front-of-camera experience shout their dreadful dialogue, move their eyebrows and bob their heads a lot, amplifying every nuance in case the people at the back can’t see it – oh wait, it’s a film, not a play.

“You can’t come bursting into my office!” yells the mayor at somebody who just calmly walked through an already open door.

What else? Oh yeah, nearly everyone in the film has a mustache:

dsom-mustaches…even the killer’s rocking one!

dsom-killer…which makes it all look a bit like some gay porn film gone wrong…

dsom-gaypornVery possibly the go-to worst movie ever made, with absolutely no redeeming qualities beyond how bad it manages to be, and that sweet exchange of dialogue about the fucking closet.

Dying for the weekend

savage-weekendSAVAGE WEEKEND

1 Stars  1976/74m

A.k.a. The Killer Behind the Mask; The Upstate Murders

“You have been chosen. You are doomed. Prepare for Savage Weekend.”

Writer/Director: David Paulsen / Cast: David Gale, Marilyn Hamlin, James Doerr, Christopher Allport, Caitlin O’Heaney [as Kathleen Heaney], Devin Goldenberg, William Sanderson, Jeffrey David Pomerantz.

Body Count: 5

Laughter Lines: “Sweet talk won’t do it fellas, I’m into rough trade.”

Years ago I had a film almanac that I worshipped. It was called the Video Movie Guide 1997 and rated films from five stars to a picture of a turkey. Despite harshness to the slasher genre (what film guide isn’t?) it was usually quite accurate. So my interest was snared by the 2.5 Stars it gave to Savage Weekend. Many moons later, I found a copy of this then rare-as-decent-Beyoncé-song movie and… well, the book was eventually tossed out.

An ever-present boom mic should be warning enough to fast forward through most of this chore hailing from 1976: the year that scriptwriting forgot. Although it predates Halloween and makes a lot of use of point-of-view camera work, nothing can serve as recompense for how awful it is.

Five city folks venture into the country for the weekend to watch a boat being built. Exciting times. At the house they’re staying in, a masked killer eliminates them by hatpin, band-saw, and hanging.

savwknd1That’s it for plot, and the film throws in a few variable suspects that would – ten years down the line – typify any red herring in a slasher flick: There’s a silent, unhinged custodian, the local rednecks who don’t take kindly to having their asses kicked by the effeminate gay member of the group (who is offensively represented by slinking around with his hand on his hip and sporting make up), and a random character – whose presence is never fully explained – who has the Jones for sexually frustrated nymph heroine Hamlin.

An appalling banjo theme, needless excesses of nudity, and a totally disagreeable cast (except for O’Heaney who would later play the final girl in He Knows You’re Alone), it’s no wonder this was shelved until 1980 by which time writer / director Paulsen had unleashed the nearly-as-wearisome Schizoid.

Blurbs-of-interest: Christopher Allport was in both Jack Frost movies.

Honor and obey



1 Stars  1987/93m

Directors: Lloyd A. Simandl & Michael Mazo / Writers: Lyne J. Grantham & Lloyd A. Simandl / Cast: John Robert Johnston, Melissa Martin, Cat Williams, Leanne Jaheny, Samra Wolfin, April Alkins, Geraldine Farrell, Monica Marko, Rupert Grant, Shane Carlsson.

Body Count: 14

Laughter Lines: “There won’t be anybody up there – we’ll be ALL. BY. OURSELVES.”

Irredeemably boring T&A fare, notable only for starring the bitchy girl, Tamara, from Jason Takes Manhattan as the final girl.

She, Madeline (Sharlene Martin, credited here as Melissa), is abducted one night by a whiny-voiced, mother-fixated loon, Frankie, who takes girls home, forces them to dress in Mom’s clothes, and, if they’re not ‘nice’ enough, are murdered.

Madeline succeeds in escaping, but the police are almost completely apathetic, and it’s her gang of indistinguishably cloney gal-pals who suggest driving around to look for the guy, whom they run into almost straight away. Ill-prepared for this venture, they flee, cops intervene, Frankie escapes in a rowing boat WHICH EXPLODES WHEN SHOT AT.

An exploding wooden rowing boat.

Shortly thereafter, the girls – who might be escorts, it was unclear – go to a strip club and arrange for a couple of the suspiciously camp dancers to join them up at so-and-so’s uncle’s cabin in the woods for a bachelorette party.

Acting, hair, and fashion choices - about the only things you'll remember from Possession

Bad acting, hair, and fashion choices – about the only things you’ll remember from Possession

Predictably, Frankie ain’t dead and soon comes looking for Madeline once again, offing a couple of her friends who didn’t go on the trip, but hangs around long enough to hear an answerphone message that conveniently gives the full address of the cabin. Lord.

The girls party, make out with the gay strippers, Frankie comes along. That’s about all you need to know. It’s bodaciously unexciting, replete with clichés so dense you’d need a Humvee to plough through them: One girl goes off on her own to photograph trees! The car won’t start. The girl who had a bath conveniently never pulled the plug so the killer can drown her in it. It doesn’t stop.

Even when the killer’s presence is discovered, the last girls standing abandon the comparable fortitude of the cabin (which has a push-bar door!?) to run into the woods, where the killer, disabled by a speargun arrow while they flee, somehow teleports in front of them to jump out from behind a tree, and so they run BACK to the fucking cabin where there’s a gun!

Said woods are mysterious and wild, we know this because every time a character walks through them pan pipe music plays. This might mean something if the killer were a Native American rather than a camp-voiced suburban mama’s boy.


Brimming over with protracted T&A scenes that go thusly: Girl has shower, girl lathers up own boobs for ages, girl dresses up in kinky clothes, girl is stabbed >>> Girl has bath, girl washes self, girl dresses and paints own nails, girl is drowned in bath she never bothered emptying >>> Girl has shower, girl soaps up boobs, girl’s throat is cut in shower. Somebody somewhere does not want women to exercise good hygiene, or worse, has some real issues with their gender, note when one young woman talks about a guy she met and her friend replies: “You were in a BAR?” Why the hell not? She’s young and vivacious, should she only be allowed in the kitchen or the convent?

A plodding, dullard of a feature with absolutely nothing to recommend it unless pastel fashions, awful hair, and naked chicks in the shower is enough. With fourteen bodies dropped, there’s hardly even any grue to speak of.

This is a film nobody need possess.

Blurb-of-interest: Director Simandl also helmed the equally barren Ripper 2: Letters from Within.



1 Stars  2008/77m

“Party till you drop DEAD.”

Director: Rex Kramer [Michael A. Hoffman] / Writers: Meghan Jones & Michael A. Hoffman / Cast: Reggie Bannister, Sarah Minnich, Joh Shumski, Leanne Vanmaulle, Erin Meyers, Ally Hartman, Renee Darmiento, Toni Buena, Rick Federman, Jeff Pride, Jeff Hayden, Christian Anderson, Linnea Quigley, Bob Farster, Curtis Taylor.

Body Count: 16

Laughter Lines: “I’ve seen enough of these slumber party slasher flicks to know what’s going on.”

Three teens at the world’s most boring party decide to play with a Ouija board while they do shots. When the girl demands the two chaps leave, she gets her throat slashed and the murder is blamed on the pizza delivery guy who stumbles in and finds the body.

Ten years later (not nine, not eleven) the usual denomination of mid-western college kids throw a slumber party. Boyfriends attempt to crash. Tits. Girl-on-girl rubbish. Horny neighbour who keeps turning up at the door. Eventually, death for the majority of them. Who is it? Who cares? Certainly not the writers.

Pitched as an homage to the Slumber Party & Sorority House Massacre franchises, the DVD cover is about as close as it gets. The rest is a no-budget dullard of a product, with characters so stupid and vacuous there’s zero sympathy for their plight, something at least most of those older films could lay claim to.

Yeah OK, it was shot with one camera over about a week, but c’mon, it’s time that girls in slasher flicks were at least as capable as their real life counterparts. Has Scream been entirely forgotten? These ARE the stupid girls Sidney Prescott refers to in her anti-slasher film rant. Boys, of course, remain clothed where it counts and are afforded largely off-camera demises.

Bannister and Quigley muddle through largely unscathed and the final girl acts quite well, but everybody else blurs into a mass of amateur-night forgettableness. A kind-of sequel, Girls Gone Dead, followed in 2012. I won’t be bothering.

Blurbs-of-interest: Bannister was also in Bloody Bloody Bible Camp; low-end horror icon Linnea Quigley can be found in Graduation Day, Silent Night Deadly Night, Fatal GamesKolobos, and Jack-O.

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