Video Murders (1988)

From Mountaintop Motel Massacre director Jim McCullough Sr. and writer Jim McCullough Jr., the Shreveport, Louisiana-shot Video Murders posits a sad world in which single-dude schlubs watch homemade snuff tapes while eating Chinese takeout. At least that’s the case for David, played by Private Lessons pupil Eric Brown — the only remotely recognizable face in this cheap and dreary psycho thriller, unless Radio Shack Computer Center signage counts.

To a tinny score that sounds like TV’s Tales from the Darkside theme breeded with Sears’ 1975 Pong console, David’s hobby is renting, handcuffing and fatally choking hookers, in that order, all under the watchful eye of his VHS camera. Investigating detective Lt. Jerry Delvechio (John P. Fertitta, The Evictors) puts it best: “He’s a real freak!” In his first scene, Delvechio mentions David as the suspect in these serial killings without explaining how he knows.

Thirty minutes in, David attends a concert by The Insatiables, whose New Wave-coiffed lead sings, “He dreams in black and white.” This unassuming lyrics flips David’s switch like he’s The Manchurian Candidate, triggering flashbacks … from the past half-hour we just watched. Sadly, none are of what has to be regional cinema’s most incredible weather report.

Still, he manages to leave the club with a lonely, but still-too-cute-for-him receptionist (Virginia Loridans of the aforementioned Massacre) named Melissa Rivers. He treats her like she’s one of his disposable call girls, belching loudly near her face, holding her hostage and playing her Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 8 in C minor, Op. 13.

Thank God Delvechio has the foresight to hit up the greasy diner to get valuable info out of the registered nurse little person (one-timer Marti Anding Brooks as the dictionary-sounding Miriam Webster). Although David is responsible for the videoing and the murdering of Video Murders, the movie plays like a pilot for Lt. Delvechio — hopefully titled Delvechio — vying for space alongside McCloud and Columbo in The NBC Mystery Movie lineup. It never happened. Sorry about that, folks; back to you, Sylvia. —Rod Lott

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Spider in the Attic (2021)

Usually, low-budget creature features oversell themselves. The British-born Spider in the Attic presents itself as a rare exception — but only because it has multiple spiders versus the singular promise of the title. In every other case, it disappoints as expected.

The prologue shows scientist Dr. Zizerman (Chris Cordell, The Curse of Humpty Dumpty) pitching a fit over being fired for his unethical practices and skirting regulations. See, he’s genetically altered a regular spider to become a rather large hissing spider with a scorpion-like stinger, deliberately kept in low light to shield the sheer shittiness of the CGI. It escapes its glass box and kills Dr. Z in his bed. Kinky.

Linda Buxton (Nicola Wright, Top Secret!) is a flailing producer of true crime shows. Her career’s on the verge of cancellation when her home-from-the-military daughter (Sarah Alexandra Marks, Easter Bunny Massacre) and pregnant daughter (Chelsea Greenwood, Amityville Scarecrow), convince her she just needs to solve the mystery of Dr. Zizerman’s death to bring in the numbers. The Buxton women head to the abandoned house, with others on hand to assist. Despite gripping mugs of tea, having harsh bangs or wearing opera gloves, somehow not a single one is named Penelope.

As you can guess, spiders attack, but director/co-writer Scott Jeffrey (Cannibal Troll) sure takes his damn sweet time to let them loose. Killing the entire vibe of such a enterprise, the arachnids come so crudely computer-animated, they’re not threatening. In shots calling for numerous ones, it looks like whoever was running the effects program followed — and repeated — this uninspired series of keystrokes: Select > Copy > Paste > Scale > Rotate.

One thing’s for sure: If Spider in the Attic were shot in the fall, any nearby residents hoping to score fake cobwebs for a seasonal porch display were certain to encounter an empty shelf at the shoppe. Ditto for the cotton balls aisle. —Rod Lott

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A Town Full of Ghosts (2022)

We Bought a Zoo can F itself, because Mark and Jenna have bought a ghost town.* Their plans are to revitalize the remote, abandoned Old West town of Blackwood Falls into a family-friendly shopping destination and tourist attraction.

A recovering alcoholic turned workaholic, Mark (Andrew C. Fisher, 2010’s Night Music) is so sure it’ll work, he’s sunk their life savings into it. Jenna (Mandy Lee Rubio, Jurassic Tale) is … well, doing her damnedest to stay a supportive spouse.

The premise is not unlike this year’s millennial-driven Texas Chainsaw Massacre reboot, swapping one boogeyman for a boogeywoman. After digitally signing on the dotted line, of course, our couple learns Blackwood Falls’ true history: The Texas townspeople thought the brothel to be run by witches, not bitches, so they burned it to the ground and buried its prostitutes in a mass grave. Oops!

Minus a few flourishes impossible for Mark’s camera to catch, A Town Full of Ghosts plays as found footage intended for his YouTube channel. Even in his dead-of-night sojourns (Where’s that piano music coming from? Do you smell smoke?), he’s smashing that “REC” button almost as often as he pushes Jenna’s buttons of evaporating patience.

The found-footage subgenre has become so overused the last two decades, especially by indie filmmakers, because going that route maximizes what little resources are at their disposal. Therefore, it’s a bit of a wonder writer/director Isaac Rodriguez (Last Radio Call) is able to prove there’s life in it yet. He adds elements that work so well, they justify its use, from a wasp nest that grows exponentially overnight to, best of all, the ghost town’s wooden maze. The POV sequences of stumbling through it in darkness ring particularly effective; Rodriguez even tops it with an overhead drone shot that approximates the God-like view a classic video game, as we see Mark turning left and right, unable to see the horror ahead.

The movie’s not perfect, as Mark’s transformation seems rushed and some digital effects work diminish the scares. Still, amped by the built-in atmosphere, those frights are present and largely work, in part by the movie closing up shop at an economical 67 minutes. —Rod Lott

*In actuality, We Bought a Zoo can also F itself for being We Bought a Zoo.

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NOW OUT: Flick Attack Movie Arsenal: Book One

“Nobody — and I mean nobody — dissects and dismembers films as memorably, cleverly and heartlessly.”
—Herschell Gordon Lewis

From Abraxas: Guardian of the Universe to Zoombies — with at least one L.A. AIDS Jabber and a spare Yo-Yo Girl Cop somewhere in between — nearly 1,500 genre and exploitation movies undergo the spotlight and/or scalpel in the fully packed Flick Attack Movie Arsenal: Book One, our first book.

Expect horror, action, sci-fi, comedy, kung fu, sex and mystery, not to mention all seven regrettable Police Academy installments and an alarming number of titles containing exclamation points. (Warning: Do not expect drama. If you want tears, we’ll be happy to kick you in the shins — no deposit, no return.)

Continue reading NOW OUT: Flick Attack Movie Arsenal: Book One

Stunt Seven (1979)

In a high-profile kidnapping case that crosses international borders, whom would you trust for a rescue mission?

You answered, “Dallas supporting cast member Morgan Brittany,” too, right? Well, we’re 14.3% correct; she’s part of Stunt Seven.

In John Peyser’s slimly plotted but convivial made-for-CBS movie alternately known as The Fantastic Seven (I guess “magnificent” was taken?), actress Rebecca Wayne (Elke Sommer, The Wrecking Crew) is abducted from a film shoot. She’s taken to the sovereign state of Freeland, which exists as a few wooden structures on stilts in international waters. Mastermind and contemporary pirate Boudreau (Patrick Macnee, A View to a Kill) demands a $10 million ransom within 72 hours … or Rebecca dies.

The movie studio doesn’t want to front the funds for Rebecca’s release, but justifiably: because her last two pictures fizzled. And no U.S. government agency will claim jurisdiction due to Freeland’s establishment in lawless international waters. You know what that means: Stuntpeople, assemble!

Sheet of sandpaper-voiced stuntman Hill Singleton (Christopher Connelly, Strike Commando) spends two-thirds of Stunt Seven recruiting six others to form an extraction team. He starts by skydiving so he can parachute down to a hang-gliding pal: “Horatio! Have I got a crime for you!” Next thing you know, Hill and Horatio (one-and-doner Brian Brodsky) scale the FBI building in daylight — no worries; it’s Saturday — to break in and steal the highly confidential Freeland file, unmistakably labeled and in the open on an agent’s desk.

Joining the crew are an explosives expert (a pre-typecast Christopher Lloyd in a cowboy hat), a weapons specialist (Olympic gold medalist Bob Seagren), a kung-fu bartender (Soon-Tek Oh, Collision Course), a good swimmer (the aforementioned Brittany) and another good swimmer (Juanin Clay, WarGames). Barely planned, the actual reconnaissance operation is as easy as counting to the titular number while blindfolded. The end! What’s our next assignment?

Clearly, Stunt Seven intended to kick-start a weekly series, which I would have watched since director Peyser (The Centerfold Girls) packs this 90-minute outing with action aplenty. Biplanes! Sharks! Bar brawls! Diving! Scuba diving! Cadillac driving! Truck driving! Fisticuffs! Explosions! Whistling lessons!

All stunts were performed by such fall-guy brand names as Dar Robinson, Dick Warlock, Buddy Van Horn and Dick Durock. Some of their stunts also were performed by an 8-year-old me and the next-door neighbor kids the afternoon after this aired, and we thought we’d be cool by jumping from a tree. —Rod Lott

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