Sunday, April 30, 2017

Slaughterhouse Rock (Dimitri Logothetis, 1988)

Are you sitting down? (Do I have to?) No, I really think you should be sitting down to hear what I'm about to say. Okay, so, there's this horror movie from the late 1980s called "Slaughterhouse Rock." It stars Toni Basil as the ghost of a dead rock star who is forever doomed to haunt Alcatraz. And are you ready for this? You don't get to see Toni Basil until at least the forty minute mark. Can you believe this shit? Yes, I realize there needs to be some build up before you unleash Toni Basil and her spectacular gams on an audience. But forty minutes?!? C'mon, man. This is ridiculous. No offense to Hope Marie Carlton (who helped me get through a number of those awful Andy Sidaris turds) and those kind of interchangeable brunette chicks, but there's no way they can compete with Toni when it comes to talent. She sings, she dances, she acts, she wears funny hats, she does it all. So, I'll ask again: What gives, movie I just watched? Why are you wasting mine and everyone else's time like this? I mean, you're clearly a movie that possesses zero originality (everything looks like it's been cobbled together from ideas stolen from better movies). Yet, you had an ace up your sleeve in the form of Toni Basil and, not to mention, Mark Mothersbaugh and Gerald V. Casale from Devo doing all the music, and what did you do? You squandered them. Squandered the living fuck out of them.

I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed. Think about it. Toni Basil shows up on set wearing a leopard print jacket and zebra print pants, and what do you do? You.... you drop the ball, that's what you do. Seriously, we're talking leopard print and zebra print all within the same outfit.

You know how many movies I've slogged through over the years waiting for someone to show up wearing an outfit that boasts leopard and zebra print elements? I don't know the exact number, but trust me, it's a lot. And when they finally do show up wearing the animal print combo I so crave, and it's being worn by none other than Toni Basil, I have to endure the frightfully lame Slaughterhouse Rock in order to do so.

I'm telling you right now, life isn't fair. And there's no greater example of life's unfairness than the mental drudgery I had to undergo while I watched in horror as Toni Basil's wardrobe fiasco/masterpiece be neglected by a brain-sick cabal of no talent twaddle pushers. That's right, the people who made this film push twaddle. They peddle twaddle. In fact, they wallow in twaddle. How else can you explain such a high level of unabashed egregiousness?

Granted, we do get a couple of nice shots of Toni Basil's killer legs during a key scene. I think it's the one where Toni Basil's "Sammy Mitchell" does some kind of voodoo dance to resurrect the spirit from the body of the still living Alex Gardner (Nicholas Celozzi), a teen with thick, dark Mediterranean hair. But the only reason we get a voodoo dance is because Toni took the director, Dimitri Logothetis, aside and asked them if she could bust a few moves. Her logic being: If you're not going to try to inject this turkey with any life, I might as well give it a shot.

Of course, I have no proof this scenario actually took place. But I decided early on that anytime something not lame occurs in this film, someone other than the people responsible for making it had to be behind it.

Since the description of the plot on the internet movie database written by an anonymous user is pretty succinct, so, I think I'll use it. Why not?

I'm paraphrasing: A dark-haired teen and his friends (and his dark-haired brother) travel to Alcatraz prison (at night of course) after said dark-haired teen has disturbing dreams about the people who died there. Soon after they arrive, the dark-haired teen's dark-haired brother is possessed by an evil cannibal demon. The ghost of a female heavy metal singer (Toni Basil) tries to help the dark-haired teen fight the monsters that are haunting his dreams and the island itself.

I think that makes sense. Well, it technically doesn't make sense. But it's pretty much the gist of the plot.

One by one, the dark-haired teens friends are attacked by the demon version of the dark-haired teen's dark-haired brother. And after each friend is attacked, they come back as wisecracking ghosts with gnarly neck wounds. Which, as most people know, is a trope borrowed from An American Werewolf in London. And, like I said, earlier, every moment in this film is taken from a better, more entertaining movie.

Which sums up this movie perfectly. Sure, not every horror movie stars Toni Basil and is loaded with late '80s era Devo songs, but there are literally hundreds of horror movies that are better than this piece of crap.

As for trigger warnings: There's an awful rape scene (it's so casual, ugh) / The dark-haired teen blames his weird dreams on his hormones (anytime hormones are mentioned I would feel uneasy) / Even though there are way too many men in this film... at least they all had plenty of hair on their heads.

No comments:

Post a Comment