So, hypothetically speaking, how many rock-song montages should a movie be allowed to have? Because in Scare Zone, I counted seven, each with its actors and/or extras gesturing wildly for the camera while the likes of Soulguard, Hydrosonic and Orange Avenue rip through all the hitz* on the soundtrack!
Shot largely at Universal Studios Florida, Scare Zone is set at a three-nights-only haunted-house attraction — the Scare Zone Psycho-Splatter Raw-Topsy Slaughter Dungeon, to be specific. Run by Oliver (Simon Needham, Larry the Cable Guy: Health Inspector), the rooms include a mad surgeon’s table, a vat of lye and poopy toilets, all of which are on the tour he gives to his new employees; from the sassy Black guy to the slutty blonde girl, all stereotypes are covered.
It doesn’t take long for writer/director Jon Binkowski (The Visitant) to thin his cast of unknowns, but those scenes have no sense of suspense — a common problem among low-rate slashers. Not so common: cartoon orchestration punctuating so many lines of dialogue and character movements. It’s almost as if Scare Zone is unsure whether it’s a horror movie or a comedy. Supporting that theory are visual throwaway gags, like the celebratory round of “Killer Lite” beer, and lame exchanges on the level of grade-school joke books, like:
“She told me about her family.”
“Yeah, who, the Addams Family?”
Scare Zone’s single grace is that in using the sets from Universal’s actual attraction at the time, it boasts production value for days (or 6.25% of one, if you dislike hyperbole). However, great sets aren’t enough to save a picture. Scare Zone remains, to borrow a phrase from Oliver, “juvenile tomfuckery.” I am looking forward to fall, though. —Rod Lott
*Misspelled on purpose, but appropriate for what sounds like Collective Soul, but watered down, then shrunk in the dryer.