Horror Challenge entry #5: Redneck Zombies (1987, Pericles Lewnes)
I don’t know what’s more unexpected - that most of the best parts of a film titled Redneck Zombies have nothing to do with either rednecks or zombies, or that a film titled Redneck Zombies has “best parts” at all. I know that sounds like snark, but I mean that in all sincerity - Redneck Zombies isn’t really a good film, and who would really want a “good” film about ’80s-fashion-victim campers beset by undead rednecks poisoned by hooch laced with government-sourced toxic waste? Beholden as it is to the lower-than-lowbrow Troma aesthetic, it’s open and cheerful about embracing its badness; rather than try to take a dopey premise and prove himself by crafting something “serious” from it, writer/director Lewnes goes blessedly bonkers with the dopiness, loading up on redneck humor and gross-out humor and drug humor, while still finding sneaky ways to prove that he’s got more talent than the average video-camera-toting auteur. His visuals, in particular, are more ambitious than most low-level gutmunchers; whether it was the appeal of fucking around with the video image in ways that hadn’t yet become commonplace in the genre market or simply a sense that he had nothing to lose, Lewnes throws every warping effect that he can at many of his shots. Looking at the opening sequence, set in a dilapidated asylum and replete with whooshing canted Raimi-esque angles, colorful video psychedelia and cacophonous reverb-drenched soundtrack, you’d be forgiven if you thought for a minute that you wandered into some other, creepier film. Lewnes returns to the lysergic whenever it suits him, and while the encroaching zombie attacks are effective in their way, the most impressive pieces of this patchwork work are those which allow him to indulge that, i.e. the spaced-out meltdowns upon the first consumption of the chemical-waste-tainted moonshine and, especially, the increasingly absurd and weirdly hilarious autopsy performed on a zombie by a med student tripping on acid.
Furthermore, Lewnes airs out that tendency towards the creepy with the occasional appearance of the Tobacco Man (a hooded, towering beast of a man with a digitally-altered voice) and a bizarre, inexplicable sequence in the house of the neighborhood “freelance butcher.” In these sequences, we can see Lewnes straining against his self-imposed limitations to show what he can do beyond goofy gory kitsch. I’m not dissing the kitsch, mind you - I enjoy an unapologetic zombie film as much as anyone. It’s not the second word in the title that gives me pause; the film’s weakness, truth be told, is in the idiots-in-pants-and-overalls setup. While there’s some incidental silliness and likable running gags (like the constantly-changing T-shirts on one fellow I nicknamed Jerkass Camper), the bulk of the humor is broad and dumb, hick humor at its most indulgent. There’s a lot of redneck to get through before the zombies show up, and while this isn’t nearly as tiresome as, say, Sassy Sue, a little of it goes a really long way.
I will say, though, that I appreciated the double-edged payoff in the shot of the alcoholic camper downing a pint of Graves’ Grain Alcohol right before a zombie attack.
I will also say that, no matter how bad a film is otherwise, I cannot fail to give at least a half-hearted recommendation to a film with this particular zombie extra:
Ain’t he just the cutest little flesh-eater ever?
Horror Challenge entry #4: The Video Dead (1987, Robert Scott)
Holy ballsack, is this film ever terrible. That’s all I have to say about it. No, really. It’s fucking awful, I don’t understand the minor cult that’s sprung up around it and I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s move the fuck on. Okay, fine. You want proof? Here. See how long you make it before wanting to punch something in rage:
From the Shelf: Army of Darkness (1993, Sam Raimi)
Acquired: In 1998 from some now-defunct online retailer - part of the first batch of DVDs I ever bought.
Seen before?: A whole bunch of times. Can’t remember the last time, but it’s been a while.
Is there anything as painful as revisiting something you love and finding it’s not as good as you remember? I know the manic ramshackle nature of this is really part of its charm, but Jesus is that first act ever slack. Evil Dead II probably would have had the same issues if it didn’t basically cheat by kickstarting itself with a rehash of its predecessor. Because of this, Army of Darkness can’t really pull the same trick, so it condenses the whole thing into a four-minute prologue, and the cold open does it no favors. Raimi’s the kind of guy who needs a minute or two to settle himself into a comfortable groove before he can effectively cut loose, so the opening act of Army is awkwardly paced in a way I’d never really noticed before this. (Granted, that also likely stems from the film’s notorious editing/studio interference woes.) That said, most of this is still absolutely fucking golden. From roughly the old mill on, this thing is as unstoppable as the granite-jawed bumbler/hero that Ash has grown into. But I’d be lying to myself if I continued to ignore how bloody flawed it is.
Up next: Bergman + Bergman…
Horror Challenge entry #2: Deadgirl (2008, Marcel Sarmiento & Gadi Harel)
The sick-making premise of Deadgirl surely demands attention - two teenagers find a bound-and-gagged unkillable zombie girl in the boiler room of an abandoned mental hospital, and one of them proceeds to make her his constant fuckdoll while the other, more sensitive one struggles with his revulsion over this and his unrequited crush on a cute redhead. Most anyone reading this is probably thinking of the moral and metaphorical implications that are embedded in that plot - the notion of woman (literally) objectified, the predatory nature of certain strains of male desire (especially during the hormone roundelay of the teenage years), sexuality as an expression of frustration and/or power, Madonna vs. Whore. Yet lesser hands could easily stick on level one and end up with no more than a repugnant ick show, so it’s to the credit of the minds behind Deadgirl that they thought about those implications too, and they do their best to tease them out of the work. The result, while imperfect (some of the acting leaves something to be desired, and the script occasionally passes from believably-teenage clumsy to screenwriter clumsy) does carry a certain level of slimy potency with it. The zombie movie repurposed as gender-war salvo where, despite the titular character’s decaying exterior, it’s the men who are truly the rotten ones.
Also note: There’s an oblique vagina dentata reference, which also means that I can use this as a cudgel with which to beat on Teeth yet again. God, that film sucked.
