When will you city folk ever learn? When you done and gone killed Ed Harley’s little boy in a drunken dirt bike accident, you left Pa Harley no choice but to seek out the old witch who lives up on the mountain so that she might conjure up hisself a demon to right this terrible wrong y’all did.
And if you think this is just a regular run of the mill demon summoned from some lame ritual involving satanic douche bags in bathrobes uttering a bunch of Latin mumbo jumbo, well that’s just one more thing you city slickers are ignorant of!
For you see, poor country folks like Ed Harley, who runs the dilapidated food stand by the highway, doesn’t have two pots to piss in so a lot of this demon business is a do it yourself affair. The mountain witch tells Ed that if he’s serious about this supernatural revenge, there’s a price to pay! And the down payment is nothing less than having to dig up the demon’s corpse and bring it back to her! Continue reading
When Steven Seagal is berating Luke Goss for not being entirely forthcoming with mission details and says “I was not born on a fucking turnip truck, man. And I was not born at night. I was born in a bright fucking sunny day, man” he appears to be convinced that what he is saying is making sense, despite his dialogue being a jumble of messed up idioms and forced curse words.
And he is also likewise very convincing when during the only stunts he does himself (walking up some stairs), he has to grab the handrail for support. I was never fearful for big Steve’s health during these scenes though because director Keoni Waxman has worked with him enough times (Absolution, A Good Man, The Keeper) to know to call “cut” immediately after each stair. Continue reading
Steven Seagal is a ghost. No, I don’t mean the ethereal kind that’s difficult to see. It’s hard to imagine him waddling down the street with his goofy black ensembles and strange glasses with the orange-colored lens he insists on wearing in all his movies now and not be spotted a mile away.
He’s a ghost in the intelligence community sense that he isn’t supposed to exist. He even tells his police department buddy that he’s supposed to be undercover and when his pal wants to know what he’s doing undercover, Steve rightly responds that it wouldn’t be much of an undercover gig if he went and told him.
But he not only intervenes and kills a stripper’s boyfriend when he’s abusing her, but also just sits around at an outdoor Parisian cafe the next day waiting for her and agreeing to her greedy scheme to steal her dead boyfriend’s drug money. It’s really the sort of thing that makes zero sense anywhere except in a Steven Segal movie, where you would be shocked if it didn’t happen. Continue reading
It’s a dystopian world where our worst fears have come horribly true! An all seeing state where the government monitors your every move! Where people who dare to question the state are hunted down and ruthlessly killed! Where twenty-four hours a day, government propaganda is beamed into every home and street corner via the state-controlled media! But so what? We already put up with such an overreaching government already! This is a future though that is a million times worse! Where one man controls everything and that one man is Steven Seagal! Nightmarish indeed! Continue reading
Vincent Price may have appeared in virtually all the American International-Edgar Allan Poe movies known to man (except for that contractual snafu that allowed Ray Milland to sneak onto the set of The Premature Burial and steal his spot in that one), but even Price couldn’t be hornswoggled into starring in this stiff about some killings afflicting a troupe of actors in France (filmed entirely on location in Spain which is apparently a lot cheaper than France).
Jason Robards was drafted to replace Price and the way that Mr. Robards conducts himself for the duration of this exercise in slasher tedium, “drafted” would appear to be an apt description of his enthusiasm in playing the director of the acting company besieged by a vengeful Herbert Lom. Continue reading
Legendary Italian exploitation film director Bruno Mattei apparently decided that in a career as long and as aimlessly varied as his, it just wouldn’t be complete without one of these jungle barf bag flicks under his belt. And in true Bruno style, when he tackles a project, he does it with as much gusto as the three or four days of shooting will allow a 72 year old man. And also in true Bruno style, he realizes that whatever is worth doing poorly once is worth doing even worse twice and so he also shot Cannibal World in 2003, too! Continue reading
Right away you know this movie is going to be one of those ugly, dirty, and cheap 1970s flicks where the special effects consist of junk just half-assed glued to somebody’s head. In fact, I thought I was watching the wrong movie at the beginning when things just kind of fired up with a bunch of people attacking a caveman. They were supposed to be villagers from a few hundred years back, but during one such attack I saw a guy wearing a pair of blue jeans and a button down work shirt, like he’d just got off work at the meat packing plant and decided to stop off in the woods to help some fellow townspeople beat up Neanderthals. Continue reading
Frankenstein fanboys need to know right from the start that Lady Frankenstein doesn’t ever operate on a monster in this flick. Sure she gets involved in some brain transplant scheme, but that’s just a swap with her old, crippled up loser husband and the dull-witted, yet hunky handy man. What Lady Frankenstein is more interested in is being a cut-rate update of the Frankenstein story that gives a nod to women’s lib supplemented with a meager dollop of gore and skin, but really is only memorable because of how goofy-looking the monster is. Continue reading
The opening credits paraded by over a bunch of black and white newsreel footage of Nazis doing stuff like marching around and saluting one another. I thought some practical joker at the DVD plant had pulled a fast one on me and snuck a History Channel documentary in there. The only thing missing was a slightly bored narrator droning on about “the German war machine” and “France immediately surrendered.” Continue reading
Vincent Price, Roger Corman, and Edgar Allan Poe rebound nicely in their second teaming after the deadly dull House Of Usher that came out the year before with a picture that finally delivers on the whole “haunted castle” gimmick. It isn’t really haunted of course, but you’ve got deception, betrayal, madness, secret passages, and most importantly of all, a working torture chamber down in the basement! Continue reading