Thirteen years after his Satan-worshipping grandfather (Hy Pyke, Hollywood High) secretly slipped him a satanic necklace on Halloween, Tommy Drindle (Gregory Scott Cummins, Blood Games) is all grown up and ready to commit his soul to the devil — or something like that — in Hack-O-Lantern.
Three things are certain:
1) Tommy’s room has a bitchin’ poster for Levi’s Cords.
2) Tommy’s mother (Katina Garner, Cannibal Hookers) hates — and I mean hates — her father for his obsessive hold on Tommy. And also for having her husband murdered 13 years ago. And also for molesting her on her wedding day before that. (I’m told those things tend to stick in the craw.)
3) So many people in Tommy’s circle are going to die today, many even before the town’s Halloween party gets started.
Open House director Jag Mundhra was kinda asking for it by titling his second horror film Hack-O-Lantern, as a name like that invites viewers to prepare for a subpar experience. Then again, Mundhra’s satanic-panic shocker is a subpar experience; his gifts were in erotic thrillers, not slashers.
The only thing more out of place than the MTV video in Hack-O-Lantern’s first half is the impromptu Thanksgiving-themed stand-up routine in its second. The latter — built upon turkey and stripper impersonations — comes courtesy of “Party Comedian” Bill Tucker. Today, the Vegas performer bills himself as “Wild Bill Tucker” and, based upon the unedited promo copy at his website, might not have survived filming unscathed:
“Wild Bill’s arsenal of urban sounds effects blended into his punch lines is rare. The sounds he makes are amazingly funny & at the same time accurately fascinating. It seems, when God was creating Wild Bill he splurged with the odd ball talents that are placed so perfectly throughout his act. Now the sign language Unique? Tucker Tap Dances to his Cell Phone Ring. Warning: Wild Bill leaves pictures in your head.”
The movie leaves pictures in your head, too, including an ass cheek tattooed with a pentagram and more 30-something-looking teens the screen has ever seen, but no image more memorable than Pyke’s ugly mug. Organically creepy even before the incest angle is introduced, Pyke sounds just like you would expect, with a gravel-gargled voice that suggests he graduated summa cum laude from the Sling Blade School of Diction. Mundhra establishes the Grandpa character as the lead, only to play musical chairs throughout, with Tommy, Tommy’s mommy and Tommy’s virgin-but-not-for-long sister (Carla Baron, Terror Night) all vying for the spot willy-nilly. Not coincidentally, your attention span may do the same. —Rod Lott