Allen Plone’s Night Screams enjoys the distinction of being the first slasher shot in Wichita, Kansas. Remember, “first” rarely equates to “best.” Or even “good.” One could sum up where this film falls by using this quick, mid-movie exchange:
Girl 1: “So, where’d you live before you moved to Wichita?”
Girl 2: “In a really nice place.”
Night Screams confuses right from the prologue, as soon-to-be victims watch the ’81 horror movie Graduation Day at home. Rather than show those scenes on the characters’ TV set, Plone (Phantom of the Ritz) chooses to play them in full-screen glory, as if spliced directly into the print; therefore, anyone unfamiliar with that movie may not comprehend which shots are which. (Later, Plone pulls the same trick with a porno to force some nudity into the pic.)
That said, our killer kind of makes up for it with a spontaneous, post-murder rendition of “Chopsticks” on the deceased’s piano. Cut to the opening credits of unknown names and this peculiar tease: “featuring The Sweetheart Dancers.” (Oh, I’ll get to them, promise.)
Night Screams also marks the first and last feature for Joe Manno, in the lead role of David, star of the high school football team and winner of a four-year University of Oklahoma scholarship. While his teammates trade an opened fire hose of homoerotic insults (e.g., “Up your ass!”), he stresses about his full-ride athletic scholarship to Oklahoma, because he doesn’t really want the University of Oklahoma football scholarship, much less to continue playing football, the sport that won him the OU scholarship. And if you think that’s repetitive, get ready to hear it so often from so many people, the film should have an onscreen counter or come with its own punch card.
To blow off steam, David invites his best buds over for a co-ed house party while his overprotective parents are out. Not invited, but looking to crash it anyway, are two escaped inmates from the clink and one newly released mental patient. Are they to blame for David’s friends being slaughtered uno a uno — by pool cue, hot tub, hamburger grill, Glad Cling ‘N Seal — or is David, who forgot to take his anti-anger meds?
The better question: Who cares? Neither you nor I, because Night Screams is so disengaging, its obscurity is deserved. In addition to being nondescript, the students exhibit behavior suggesting they’re occupants from interplanetary craft, from white-guy alley dancing to David acting like a guy on the verge of a Mustang-buying, secretary-banging midlife crisis, not a kid who just wants Dad off his back. Death sequences lack panache and inspire indifference.
Now, because I promised, back to the “nationally famous” Sweetheart Dancers: They’re six young women in sparkly shirts and matching socks who Jazzercise their permed-hair hearts out. They do this as a band called The Dogs performs a song about chilling out. This all goes down at the local club Pogo’s, a really nice place. —Rod Lott
Tulsa-based filmmaker Darla Enlow’s The Last Trick or Treater seems calibrated to get viewers into the Halloween spirit. While only around a half-hour, so was Walt Disney’s 
In the Florida Everglades, several locals have vanished;