Matt’s Horror Addiction

Attack of the Swamp Creatures – 1971, US, 100m. Director: Don Barton, Arnold Stevens

Murder Weapon – 1989, US, 81m. Director: David DeCoteau

The Video Dead – 1987, US, 90m. Director: Robert Scott

ATTACK OF THE SWAMP CREATURES (1971) A lunatic scientist (Marshall Grauer) gets revenge on the town that spurned him by concocting a serum that turns him into a murderous fish monster. Like a mad slasher, the creature checks off a list of victims after disposing of them, including a former colleague who became Public Enemy No. 1 by dismissing Grauer’s “scientific” work. Grauer tries to transform a beach bunny into his scaly mate but ends up killing the woman in a failed experiment. This stupefyingly lame “man in a monster suit” flick lacks every basic ingredient needed to make it even remotely watchable, namely the so-bad-it’s-good elements that helped many of its cinematic peers (Horror of Party Beach, Bog, etc.). Shot in Florida, Attack of the Swamp Creatures gives new meaning to the word boring. AKA: Blood Waters of Dr. Z; Zaat D–

MURDER WEAPON (1989) Best friends Dawn (Linnea Quigley) and Amy (Karen Russell) throw a party to celebrate their release from a mental hospital, despite the fact they’re still clearly unstable. In between endless exposition told through the use of dream sequences (mostly Amy’s), the movie shifts into slasher territory when an unidentified killer begins knocking off the two women’s libidinous male friends. Too much of the screenplay is spent on Quigley and Russell removing their clothes and/or having sex, but the gore is fairly splattery, including a smashed head via sledgehammer, and a man whose heart is ripped out and fed to him. Murder Weapon has the advantage of never taking itself seriously, yet the only moment of genuine humor comes during an early scene where Dawn’s ex-fiancé (Eric Freeman) tells her, “I have too much respect for you to have sex in the car. How about a blowjob?” But, what else would you expect from director David DeCoteau (going under the alias Ellen Cabot)? C–

THE VIDEO DEAD (1987) An amusing send-up of Romero’s Night of the Living Dead made for the home video generation, in which teen siblings must battle a horde of zombies that emerge from a supernatural television set. One of the teens (Rocky Duvall) switches on the cursed TV and is warned by a figure known as the Garbage Man that the set is infested with the undead, and to place a piece of mirror against the screen in order to keep the creatures at bay—in this case, zombies from a fifties B-movie called Zombie Blood Nightmare. Duvall fails to secure the set and releases the walking dead onto his suburban neighborhood. A Texan (Sam David McClelland) with a link to the video dead teams up with Duvall, and the two go zombie hunting in the nearby woods. The film enters Evil Dead territory when Duvall chainsaws a zombie in half, spilling intestines and live rodents. Duvall’s sister (Roxanna Augesen) realizes the zombies thrive on fear and invites them to dinner and dancing before trapping them in the basement, where they disintegrate and are forced back into the TV. The Video Dead‘s exceedingly low budget is evident, but it’s a far more clever and entertaining movie than the similarly silly (and bigger budgeted) Return of the Living Dead Part II. A sequel was planned but never materialized due to a lack of funds. It’s a shame—had director Robert Scott gotten the OK from Romero to use Night of the Living Dead as the plot device’s source material from which the zombies emerge, he could have been on to something. As it is—a decent little flick. B–

Blood Massacre – 1987, US, 73m. Director: Don Dohler.

Fright Night Part 2 – 1988, US, 104m. Director: Tommy Lee Wallace.

Schramm – 1993, Germany, 65m. Director: Jörg Buttgereit.

BLOOD MASSACRE (1987) A disgruntled Vietnam vet (George Stover) is tossed out of a seedy bar for acting like a jackass and in return stabs the owner to death. Stover and his loser friends later rob a video store, after which they escape the cops by hiding out in a remote farmhouse and holding the family hostage. The tables are turned when the family—psychopathic cannibals who use the nearby barn as a human abattoir—serve some much deserved justice by adding the criminals to the dinner menu. Director Don Dohler’s films typically fall within the so-bad-it’s-amusing category—case in point, Nightbeast (1982). But Blood Massacre is just plain bad, exacerbated by awful lighting, wooden acting, and cheap gore effects. The out-of-nowhere twist ending was apparently added by worried investors—and it’s the best part of the movie! D

FRIGHT NIGHT PART 2 (1988) The vampire sister of Jerry Dandridge swoops into town to get revenge against Charley Brewster (William Ragsdale) and Peter Vincent (Roddy McDowell) for destroying her vamp brother in the first Fright Night. The sister, Regine (Julie Corman), comes armed with assorted monsters, including a wall-crawling shapeshifter (Jonathan Gries), and a Renfield-like henchmen (Brian Thompson) who eats bugs while mumbling to himself. In what is essentially a repeat of the first film, Charlie seeks help from Peter after watching his friend become the main course for Regine. The twist this time around is Charlie himself is slowly transformed into a vampire by Regine, putting his Amy-like girlfriend (Traci Lin) in danger. But the most ridiculous moment is when Regine takes over Peter’s “Fright Night” television show by turning into a vampire on air and calling it performance art. Fright Night 2 is loaded with splatter and special effects, and vampires outnumber humans two to one, yet the movie is strangely without energy. Tommy Lee Wallace would go on to direct the TV miniseries adaptation of Stephen King’s It to much better fanfare. C

SCHRAMM (1993) Serial killer Schramm’s (Florian Koerner von Gustorf) life flashes before his eyes as he slowly dies after a fall from a scaffold he was using to paint over the aftermath of his latest kill. Through memories and fever dreams the viewer gets a peek at Schramm’s miserable existence, from being an ordinary taxi driver to lusting after his uninterested hooker neighbor (Monika M.), and ultimately Schramm’s uncontrollable desire to murder his fellow man—and to maim himself in a particularly shocking scene where the guy hammers nails into his foreskin. There’s a certain level of thought and characterization that went into the script, but at its core one can’t help but view Schramm as a glorified splatter art film. It’s often difficult to differentiate between what is real and what is a figment of Schramm’s shattered mind, but that was most likely the point, and it works to a degree. Recommended only for those who found director Jörg Buttgereit’s equally gloomy Nekromantik (1988) to be their cup of gore. C+

The Baby – 1973, US, 84m. Director: Ted Post.

Dear Dead Delilah – 1972, US, 97m. Director: John Farris.

The Sleeping Car – 1989, US, 95m. Director: Douglas Curtis.

THE BABY (1973) A social worker (Anjanette Comer) is assigned to a dysfunctional family consisting of a mother (Ruth Roman), her two daughters, and Baby, a 20-year-old man-child who has the mental capacity of an infant. In between playing with a ball and sleeping in an oversized crib, Baby (David Mooney) is coddled by mama Roman, zapped with a cattle prod by sadistic sibling Susanne Zenor, and molested at night by his other, sexually frustrated sister (Marianna Hill). Comer’s persistence that Baby has the ability to overcome his psychosis sends Roman into a tizzy, and brings out the cutlery—as well as Comer’s ulterior motive. As demented as it is enjoyable, although one can’t help but think how much sicker The Baby might have turned out had it fallen into the hands of John Waters. Still—a salacious gem. B

DEAR DEAD DELILAH (1972) Decades after chopping her mother up with an ax, crazy old Luddy (Patricia Carmichael) is released from prison and sent to live with wealthy invalid Delilah Charles (Agnes Moorehead). The livelihood of the Charles family—all of whom are in some way plotting to steal Delilah’s fortune—is threatened when matriarch Delilah announces she’s leaving her estate (and her father’s secret stash of cash) to the county. That is until someone begins picking off the family members with an ax, and leaving the bloodied weapon in Luddy’s bed. The directorial debut (and swan song) of prolific novelist John Farris (The Fury), Dear Dear Delilah has the hallmarks of a “hagsploitation” vehicle—the plot is essentially a mash-up of Strait-Jacket and Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte—but plays more like a slasher movie soap opera. Entertaining in spots, but formulaic, and with a twist obvious to anyone who’s seen The Cat and the Canary. This was Moorehead’s last starring role before her death in 1974. C+

THE SLEEPING CAR (1989) Recent divorcé David Naughton rents a converted train car, unaware it’s haunted by The Mister—a former train engineer responsible for a disastrous train wreck ten years earlier. The Mister makes his appearance known early on by hiding under bed sheets and moving objects around in the middle of the night. The ghost also doesn’t have any qualms about committing murder when a frat boy breaks in and gets impaled with sofa springs that drive themselves into the man’s back and out his chest. And that’s where The Sleeping Car writes itself into a corner. Since The Mister is imprisoned within the walls of the train car, the script must find ways for victims to go inside and get killed. The most incredulous being a drunken journalism professor (Jeff Conaway) who sneaks into the car to call a sex phone operator (1-976-JIZZ!) and is folded in half in the foldout bed. The skimpy plot isn’t the only problem with the film—the characters never feel genuine and are played by the cast as either jokey or melodramatic, the saving grace being Kevin McCarthy’s white witch neighbor. Good special effects, but not much else. C

Cataclysm – 1980, US, 94m.

House of Whipcord – 1974, UK, 102m.

Zoltan, Hound of Dracula – 1977, US, 87m.

CATACLYSM (1980) (AKA: The Nightmare Never Ends) A Holocaust survivor (Marc Lawrence) is convinced one of his Nazi tormentors (Robert Bristle) has returned, but his ageless appearance baffles Lawrence’s cop neighbor (Cameron Mitchell). After Lawrence is found dead with his face torn off, his body is taken to the morgue where the devout wife (Faith Clift) of a controversial atheist writer—whose newest book is titled “God is Dead”—works and becomes tormented by nightmares about demons and Nazis. Bristle reappears in the form of a wealthy playboy (who dresses like Hugh Hefner), and from the many visions of monsters and hellfire supplied by the filmmakers, it doesn’t come to any surprise to learn he’s the Devil in disguise, plotting to use Clift’s husband (Richard Moll) to spread the word of evil. Talky and meandering, and with a particularly awful performance by Clift, Cataclysm was later truncated, re-edited, and segmented into the anthology vehicle Night Train to Terror (1985), where it plays out slightly better, but not much. Screenwriter Philip Yordan co-wrote the classic 1954 Joan Crawford western, Johnny Guitar. D

HOUSE OF WHIPCORD (1974) A man named Mark E. Desade (Robert Tayman) takes new French girlfriend Penny Irving to the British countryside to meet his parents at the family estate—but Irving is shocked to discover the family manse is actually an old jailhouse run by Mark’s sadistic mother (Barbara Markham), who serves punishment to morally lax women she feels have escaped the justice system. Upon arrival, Irving is stripped naked by the demented lesbian warden (Shelia Keith) and thrown into a cell with another “prisoner.” After an attempted escape, Irving is put into solitary confinement and her cohort is whipped by Keith. Markham’s twisted views spiral out of control, along with her hatred for pretty French women and her desire to send Irving to the gallows. Irving’s London roommate (Ann Michelle) gets wise to her capture and tries to rescue the poor girl only to get imprisoned herself. Probably British exploitation filmmaker Pete Walker’s most famous title (and at the time most controversial), House of Whipcord isn’t going to win any awards for quality—there are more graphic and entertaining women’s prison films of the era—but it’s well acted enough and suspenseful in places to sustain interest throughout. B–

ZOLTAN… HOUND OF DRACULA (1977) (AKA: Dracula’s Dog) A squad of Romanian soldiers unearth the Dracula crypt, awakening not only a zombified family servant named Veidt (Reggie Nalder) but Dracula’s loyal vampire Dobermann, Zoltan. Needing a master to remain a functioning member of the undead, Veidt and Zoltan travel to America to find Michael Drake (Michael Pataki), the last living descendant of the Dracula bloodline. Once in town, Zoltan turns a hitchhiker into mincemeat before biting a number of dogs and creating a small army of vampire mongrels. One of schlockmeister Albert Band’s slicker efforts, but that isn’t saying much—Zoltan is entertaining but way too silly to be taken seriously, making it all the more ridiculous when Dracula expert José Ferrer enters the picture and starts spouting cockamamie dialogue, the best upon entering a fishing cabin: “It’s not the Hilton in Bucharest, but it’ll do.” Pataki does double duty as Drake and great granddaddy Count Dracula, who in flashback turns into a bat and sinks tiny fangs into Zoltan. A howler in more ways than one. C+

After Midnight – 1989, US, 93m. Director: Jim Wheat, Ken Wheat.

Deadly Friend – 1986, US, 90m. Director: Wes Craven.

The Slumber Party Massacre – 1982, US, 77m. Director: Amy Holden Jones.

AFTER MIDNIGHT (1989) Three campfire stories told by a psychology professor and his students are the basis of this polished horror omnibus. Even before he spins his tales, the professor (Ramy Zada) points a gun at an entitled student, causing the guy to wet his pants and proving a theory that death is the greatest of all fears. In the first story, a stranded couple seek shelter in an abandoned house with a history of murder. The second pits a quartet of teenagers against a pack of killer dogs—and is the most suspenseful of the chapters. The third tale is a take on When a Stranger Calls (1979) as a phone operator (Marg Helgenberger) is terrorized by a psychopath while working the graveyard shift. Aside from Zada’s ham-fisted performance, the majority of cast members are good and help give the film a boost in the production department. The same cannot be said for the contrived ending that spirals into yet another Nightmare on Elm Street clone. But that doesn’t keep After Midnight from being moderately enjoyable nonsense. B–

DEADLY FRIEND (1986) Boy genius Matthew Laborteaux’s new girlfriend (Kristy Swanson) is rendered brain-dead after being thrown down a staircase by her psychopathic father. So, naturally, Laborteaux implants an experimental microchip into Swanson’s head and turns her into an emotionless killing machine. Swanson breaks her dad’s neck, smashes a shotgun-toting old biddy’s head to pieces, and throws a dirty bike-riding cretin into a car windshield. Like Dr. Frankenstein, Laborteaux loses control of his creation and ends up getting Swanson shot down by cops in the overblown climax. Add to the mix some cruddy makeup effects, cartoonish characters, and a twist ending that makes the one in A Nightmare on Elm Street subtle by comparison, and you have one of Wes Craven’s worst films of the eighties. C–

THE SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE (1982) A maniac who went on a killing spree in 1969 escapes from the psych ward and stalks a group of friends. If you’re thinking the plot sounds an awful lot like Halloween, you’d be correct because Slumber Party Massacre was written (by feminist writer Rita Mae Brown) as a parody of not only Carpenter’s film but the slasher subgenre in general. It’s since been documented that director Amy Holden Jones removed most of the satirical elements to deliver more of a straightforward horror film, although much of Brown’s humor is still evident and gives Slumber Party a nicer edge over many of the slashers its imitating. The story is boilerplate stuff but Jones infuses the movie with likable characters and some genuine suspense—not to mention several holes poked into victims via the killer’s electric drill. There’s also a stabbing, a beheading, a body strung up in the rafters, and a very unlucky pizza delivery man who’s eyes are gouged out. All of this makes Slumber Party Massacre a bloody good time. B+

Alone in the Dark – 1982, US, 92m. Director: Jack Sholder.

Death Spa – 1988, US, 88m. Director: Michael Fischa.

The Meateater – 1979, US, 84m. Director: David Burton Morris.

ALONE IN THE DARK (1982) A quartet of violent patients escapes from a psychiatric hospital during a blackout. After one of them—a 300-pound child molester—breaks an orderly in half, the gang steals clothes and guns, then heads to the home of their doctor (Dwight Schultz) to terrorize him and his family. One of the maniacs hides under a bed and gives a couple of teens a surprise during afternoon delight. A cop is pinned to a tree with a crossbow bolt in a special effects scene that’s executed very effectively. Donald Pleasance plays a flaky psychiatrist who tries to help talk sense into the escapees, but his New Age methods don’t sit well with arsonist Martin Landau. Schultz and family are forced to pick up knives and other weapons and do a little bloodletting of their own, culminating in an intense showdown which rounds out a nice little shocker featuring smart characters and good writing. The film’s director, Jack Sholder, would go on to make A Nightmare on Elm Street 2 and cult classic, The Hidden (1987). B

DEATH SPA (1988) A high-tech L.A. fitness center becomes a death house when its computer mainframe is taken over by the malevolent ghost of its deceased owner (Shari Shattuck). Shattuck uses the place’s computer system to indiscriminately kill customers via toxic gas, equipment malfunction, and other means made to look like accidents. Shattuck’s egghead brother (Merritt Butrick), creator of the advanced computer system, assists in the revenge plot and is eventually possessed by big sis during the film’s convoluted third act, which also involves corporate espionage, double crossing, a blood-drenched blender attack, a man’s throat being ripped open by a reanimated frozen barracuda, multiple exploding heads, and a costume party that goes up in flames in a climax that pulls from the prom scene in Carrie. The movie also borrows from A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Incredible Melting Man,The Exorcist, and 2001: A Space Odyssey. You could call Death Spa an equal opportunity ripoff. Marginally enjoyable rubbish. C+

THE MEATEATER (1979) A demented geezer (Arch Joboulian) dwells in an abandoned movie theater where he watches old Jean Harlow movies and feasts on live rodents. Fresh meat arrives in the form of a family man (Peter Spitzer) who purchases and reopens the theater for short-lived business before Joboulian electrocutes the projectionist during the grand opening. The discovery of the original owner’s decomposing body temporarily shuts the place down, but not long enough to save Spitzer’s Harlow-esque teen daughter (Emily Spindler), who Joboulian abducts away to his hidden room. Despite its confusing title, The Meateater will most likely make viewers squirm with boredom due to a prominent lack of blood, or any kind of excitement. A real snoozer, recommended only for fans of cheap and obscure seventies genre flicks. D–

Combat Shock – 1984, US, 91m. Director: Buddy Giovinazzo.

Scared to Death – 1980, US, 95m. Director: William Malone.

Vamp – 1986, US, 92m. Director: Richard Wenk.

COMBAT SHOCK (1984) There have been many films dealing with the repercussions the Vietnam War had on American troops—The Deer Hunter, Apocalypse Now, Born on the Fourth of July. But none of those are as grim as Combat Shock, a miserable movie depicting the last day in the life of a soldier, years after returning home from the war. The vet in question is Frankie Dunlan (Ricky Giovinazzo), an ex-POW who lives in the slums of Staten Island with his nagging wife and deformed baby (the result of Frankie’s exposure to Agent Orange). Frankie loses grip on sanity after dealing with the loan sharks, drug addicts, and child prostitutes that infest his poverty row neighborhood. Like Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver, Frankie grows tired of the depravity that surrounds him and blows the scumbags away with a revolver. Having lost all sense of reality, he tries to save his family by shooting his wife, cooking the baby in the oven, and committing suicide. There’s a fine line between thoughtful character study and gratuitous violence, but Combat Shock can’t differentiate between the two. Genuinely grotesque—recommended only to those with a stone cold disposition. Not released commercially until 1986. C–

SCARED TO DEATH (1980) The opening shots of this film resemble those of Halloween—POV of a killer looking at a nubile woman through the window—making the viewer believe they’re about to watch another ripoff of the Carpenter film. Instead, Scared to Death takes its cue from another influential movie, Alien, by having a genetically engineered creature stalking the sewers that run underneath a suburban California neighborhood. The monster surfaces at night to maim and kill helpless passersby, which puts the population into a panic thinking the mutilated victims are the work of a Jack the Ripper-type serial killer. A super detective-turned-pulp novelist (John Stinson) is asked by the cops to help in their investigation when the clues dry up, but not before a roller skater is suffocated by the creature’s extra-long tongue. Scared to Death doesn’t have the best production values you’ll ever see—the low grade film stock looks like it belongs to a 1960’s stag flick—but it’s competently acted, and slickly directed by William Malone (1999’s House on Haunted Hill), who even manages to squeeze in a couple of scares. B–

VAMP (1986) Friends encounter a hotbed of vampires inside a night club in this moderately amusing take on movies like Fright Night, Night of the Comet, and other horror comedies of the 1980s. Looking to acquire a stripper for a college party, two frat pledges (Robert Rusler and Chris Makepeace) and a tag-along (Gedde Watanabe) invade the After Dark Club, where the ogling of T&A is interrupted by vampiric dancer Katrina (Grace Jones), who literally puts the bite on Rusler and turns him into a zombified bloodsucker. Makepeace escapes and runs into a pack of albino street punks lead by The Untouchable‘s Billy Drago. Vamp is flashy and often funny, but the characters don’t have a lot to do—especially Jones, whose charismatic presence is wasted in a throwaway role. The late Greg Cannom, who supplied the film’s makeup effects, also worked on The Lost Boys (1987) and Fright Night 2 (1988), making him the reigning expert on eighties vampire carnage. C+

The Demon – 1981, South Africa, 92m. Director: Percival Rubens

Flavia, the Heretic – 1974, France/Italy, 94m. Director: Gianfranco Mingozzi

Link – 1986, UK, 103m. Director: Richard Franklin

THE DEMON (1981) A silly South African maniac-on-the-loose Halloween clone in which ex-marine-turned-psychic-investigator Cameron Mitchell hunts an unstoppable killer sporting razor-tipped gloves. Jennifer Holmes is the innocent schoolteacher the madman stalks and terrorizes with heavy-breathing phone calls. Mitchell is the Donald Pleasance/Sam Loomis of the film, obsessed in stopping the killer he refers to as “less than a man.” When he’s not dilly-dallying in dark alleyways, the killer tears up pictures of centerfolds in a failed attempt by the writers to give the character depth. The maniac is stopped in his tracks by the sound of a spoken Bible verse from a nearby radio, suggesting some kind of demonic influence—or a hatred of gospel programs. Mitchell is callously killed off (and not by the maniac) halfway through the film, proving just how pointless all of this nonsense is. A bloodless, disjointed mess that went unreleased in the States until 1985. D

FLAVIA, THE HERETIC (1974) (AKA: Flavia, Priestess of Violence) Born into a life of servitude at the turn of the fifteenth century, young Flavia (Florinda Bolkan) slowly rebels against the strict nunnery her father placed her in as a child. After expressing hormonal urges, her friend and fellow sister is subjected to torture at the hands of Flavia’s cruel father (Diego Michelotti), who spills boiling tar on the woman before cutting off her nipples. Flavia escapes her harsh reality and joins forces with an invading Muslim army, trading her habit for armor and steel. She orders several Muslim men to give a Catholic rapist a taste of his own medicine before slashing his throat and bleeding him like a pig. Flavia’s bloodthirsty revenge culminates in the murder of her father and destruction of the convent—a monk’s brutal impalement via spear through the rectum is just additional gratuitous violence for the gore lover. Her fate is eventually sealed by the surviving Catholics, who brand her a heretic and skin her alive in an appropriately gruesome ending to this better than usual nunsploitation epic. C+

LINK (1986) A zoology student (Elisabeth Shue) takes an assistant’s position to an arrogant professor (Terence Stamp) at his country estate, where he lives with three chimps he’s researching, including ex-circus performer Link. Stamp treats Link as a servant, which rubs Shue the wrong way—especially when Link begins acting erratically by trying to burn the place down with matches and later brutally killing a dog. After Stamp mysteriously disappears, Link’s aggression hits a boiling point and Shue is trapped in the house with the psychotic chimp. A silly screenplay is treated well thanks to director Richard Franklin’s (Psycho II) eye for suspense—especially during the third act—and an appealing turn by Shue, who doesn’t play the role as a whimpering coward but as a smart and believable character. It’s no King Kong but Link is enjoyable enough for the offbeat simian-horror admirer. B–

Cameron’s Closet – 1989, UK/US, 88m. Director: Armand Mastroianni

Night of the Zombies – 1981, US, 86m. Director: Joel M. Reed

Stagefright – 1987, Italy, 90m. Director: Michael Soavi

CAMERON’S CLOSET (1989) Young Cameron (Scott Curtis) accidentally summons a demon thanks to the kid’s overzealous father (Tab Hunter), who was abusing Cameron’s telekinetic powers for personal gain. Hunter is subsequently dispatched, forcing Cameron to move in with his negligible mother. The demon eventually takes up residence in Cameron’s new digs (the closet, specifically) and waylays anybody who’s a threat to it or the boy—including the mom’s scumbag boyfriend, whose head the demon wastes no time in burning the eyes out of. A detective (Cotter Smith) must venture into dream territory in order to stop the evil from consuming Cameron in a climax reminiscent of the Nightmare on Elm Street series, which is just one of many franchises this film borrows from. The special FX are mostly impressive, but the monster, once revealed, is underwhelming. Cameron’s Closet was produced by Smart Egg Pictures, the same production company that financed the majority of the Elm Streets, which hints at the lack of originality found in the screenplay. C

NIGHT OF THE ZOMBIES (1981) World War II German soldiers transformed into zombies by chemical warfare attack any persons who enter their territory in the Bavarian Alps. When the CIA sends their best man (Jamie Gillis) to search for a couple of missing scientists, the zombies crawl out of the woodwork. The only good thing I can say about Night of the Zombies is that it’s slightly better than the similar Oasis of the Zombies (1982), which is like saying a UTI is better than an STD. Porn star Gillis performs like a low-rent James Bond but comes off more like Mark Wahlberg’s Brock Landers from Boogie Nights (1997) without the punchline. The movie is sometimes credited as Night of the Zombies II to appear to be a sequel to the more entertaining European production Hell of the Living Dead (1980), which was originally released in the US as Night of the Zombies. Watch that one, skip this. F

STAGEFRIGHT (1987) (AKA: Aquarius) The cast and crew of a second-rate off-Broadway-like musical about a skid row slasher are murdered in real life by an actual killer who’s infiltrated the production. The maniac (Clain Parker), a former actor driven insane by the craft, takes his profession one step too far by going method and turning into Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, and every other famous madman who’s come before him by donning a stage mask and turning the usual psycho-killer tricks. Parker kills one of the actors and takes over their role during a scene rehearsal where he stabs an actress on stage. The production manager has his torso skewered with a power drill while blocking a door. The show’s director (David Brandon) mistakes one of the actors for the killer and hacks him up with an axe; Brandon later gets his arm and head removed with a chainsaw. Stagefright exhibits enthusiasm for the subgenre by offering plenty of splatter and at a fast pace—most of the cast is killed off by the second act—but its characters come off more as caricatures (the flamboyantly gay dancer, the bitchy diva, the cruel theater director, etc.), which eliminates a lot of sympathy from the viewer. One of Dario Argento protégé Michael Soavi’s better films, but like the bulk of the director’s work, Stagefright is more style over substance. Co-writer George Eastman is actual Luigi Montefiori, better known to Italian horror movie lovers as cannibalistic psychopath Klaus Wortmann from the gore classic Anthropophagus (1980). C+