The final Missed the Bloody Cut of this October (and this year), enjoy these three out-there horror movies that didn’t make the grade, but deserve to be recognized for a number of reasons anyway. Happy Halloween everyone!
A very clever premise that is executed rather poorly, Night Train to Terror finds God and Satan (credited as himself and Lu Sifer respectively. . . in reality, Ferdy Mayne and Tony Giorgio) riding an evening express, debating over the celestial control of souls, including a rock band playing in the cabin ahead (unbeknownst to them, the train will crash in a short time). If their attire says anything, at least their stylist should be going to hell.
Piece-mealed together by director Jay Schlossberg-Cohen and his team, this 1985 independent horror film – that has since become a sort of cult classic, brings together three previously made full length motion pictures: the incomplete Scream Your Head Off (it would eventually become 1992’s Marilyn Alive and Behind Bars), 1984’s The Dark Side of Love, and 1980’s Cataclysm.
An anthology style feature that has God and Satan overlooking three specific cases, the first is Harry Billings (John Phillip Law), a poor man who is brought into an insane asylum, hypnotized by the maniacal Dr. Fargo (Sharon Ratcliff), forcing him to do heinous things to help fund their underground organ harvesting moneymaking scheme, which is then executed by the equally sick Dr. Brewer (Arthur M. Braham). They also have the sadistic warden, Otto (Richard Moll), aiding them with all of the disturbing endeavours. Of course, Satan sees this as a win for his team, as Billings does a number of horrible things for the mad doctors, yet God, of course, has a different view – that when he did escape their horrible spell, he did his very best to do good and rescue those who had been kidnapped and were yet to be harmed.
The second case is that of Greta Connors (Meredith Haze), a talented pianist who falls prey to George Youngmeyer (J. Martin Sellers), a manipulative man who pays for her livelihood (making her a star in the process – but not what you think), yet also asks a lot in return. When she falls for college student Glenn Marshall (Rick Barnes), he realizes she has been sucked into a spiraling cult of death-obsessed people (that he is hoodwinked into joining). A secret society that gets their kicks from coming together and playing games that make Russian roulette look tame. . . it is a group that, once you agree to join, amounts to something akin to “Hotel California” – you can never leave.
In the third segment, Claire Hansen (Faith Clift), a religious woman and renowned surgeon, finds herself in a rather difficult situation after her atheist husband, James (again Richard Moll), publishes a book with a title that has no subtlety – ‘God is Dead’. . . it is such a controversial topic that he is even given his own television program. Drawing the attention of Olivier (Robert Bristol), he might just be an undying servant of Lucifer. Another narrative driving in the same lane is that of Mr. Weiss (Marc Lawrence), an elderly Holocaust survivor who saw his entire family murdered by a man who looks just like Olivier. Attempting to convince his next door neighbour, Lieutenant Sterne (Cameron Mitchell), of the outlandish story, it is not an easy thing to believe. Of course, all of this will tie together in a most horrific way.
Hatcheted apart in the editing room to fit an overall runtime of one hour and thirty-eight minutes, none of the three anthology tales in Night Train to Terror flow particularly well. . . premises that could have been intriguing, but always leave something to be desired. The celestial spine of the story perhaps works best, philosophical discussions on good and evil, right and wrong, and all that jazz. It draws you in, only to leave you a bit disappointed each time by the three stories. Yet, despite this, you’ve gotta love the college try – a surprisingly elevated premise for such a low budget flick. And, in other hands, it really could have been something. . . instead finding itself in the realm of ‘cult classic’, that first word added as a warning to viewers. As for the rock band, I’ll leave that up to you to discover. Though not all of you might answer the call of ‘all aboard’, feel free to take a chance on this smorgasbord of horror.
“If you’ve been thinking about plastic surgery, Dr. Devine would like to change your mind.”
A cheesy, straight-to-video horror film (with over the top comedic tinges), 1989’s The Immortalizer, directed by cult movie personality Joel Bender (Gas Pump Girls), will have you wondering if you should have what you just watched surgically removed from your brain.
Gregg (Chris Crone) is a college student out for a night on the town with his brother Darrell (Greg Joujon-Roche), and two female friends, June (Rebekka Armstrong) and Celia (Cynthia Chase) – though the guys are clearly hoping for more. . . a lousy movie, dirt cheap dinner, and walk down a garbage strewn and urine soaked alley should just do the trick to win these gals over.
Unluckily for them, the aforementioned Dr. Devine has sent out his lackeys to kidnap some young, vivacious new bodies. . . his two dumb drivers bringing with them some sort of malformed Hulk-afied creatures with the strength of many men that do their bidding (the only reason they follow instructions: cattle prodding). These losers get their kicks out of betting on which one of these so-called freaks (who are always ultra aggressive) will win the battle royale when placed back in their locked cellar.
With the four students finding themselves trapped and drugged in a large, cheerful white home . . . other than Gregg – those lackeys aren’t very bright, they are at the mercy of the maniacal, if genius Dr. Devine (Ron Ray), an aged medical professional with a quickly receding hairline (mad scientist anyone?) who hides his practice behind the walls of a normal looking suburban residence.
With the help of fellow mature accomplice Dr. Price (Clarke Lindsley), sadistic nurse Blaine (Melody Patterson), and newly hired Dr. Timmons (Steve Jamieson) – a young M.D. who has just lost his licence due to some controversial treatment, they have quite the ruse. . . nabbing sexy young people for the ultra wealthy, charging them a million bucks a pop to transplant their brains into the bodies of these much younger individuals; Get Out anyone? Fun fact: you might not know that if your brain is placed in someone else’s body, your voice still somehow sounds exactly the same.
Luckily Gregg escapes (for such a clandestine operation, their security team and protocols are quite inept), finding his way to the local police station only to meet the unyielding Sheriff Gantry (Bo Byers) – your prototypical officer who doesn’t believe anything the victim says and is sure he must be hopped up on some sort of mind altering drug.
Forced to do it all himself. . . that is, until he finds an aid in nosey neighbour Agnes (Elmarie Wendel), the pair attempt to penetrate the security of the only slightly secured home – that should be difficult!
With an interesting premise, sadly it is left half baked. . . kind of like the creatures in the basement. It teases so much (just check out the poster and you’re expecting something special – at least the promotional team deserves some credit), only to be provided with just a small portion of that expectation. . . some green serum, a few gory sequences, a couple of nude scenes, and a triumvirate of mutants (that may increase in number – after we learn how they are created) leave us yearning for something extra (it is perhaps surprisingly not over the top enough). Saying that, it is the kind of mindless fun you can watch with your friends, laugh a bit (there are actually a few good pieces of dialogue in it), and then completely forget about before you revisit it again one late night several decades down the road.
An obscure piece of late 80s VHS horror history, The Immortalizer, despite some rather sub par surgery, has still survived some three decades past its expiration. . . talk about a medical miracle. At a brisk ninety-six minutes, this campy (but not quite campy enough) feature moves at a quick pace (thankfully), and does just enough to make it a passable watch. So, it’s up to you as to whether you want to move out to the suburbs or not, if you do, it’s not as exciting as you might think.
Rinaldi Vivaldo: “What are we supposed to do? Stay here and have our asses chewed out by our mothers?”
Falling into the realm of so bad it’s simply bad, Flesh-Eating Mothers (1988) finds ennui setting into a group of northern New York state townsfolk. Leading to countless hidden affairs (as well as a disturbing amount of venereal disease), listless childhoods, physical abuse (please note – boredom is no excuse for this), and massive overeating, co-writer and director James Aviles Martin uses his ten grand budget to do a few cool things in this outrageously stiff zombie flick.
Let’s face it. . . none of the characters really matter in this one. Instead, all you really need to know, is that due to a rather spiritual idea only revealed much later (as well as the coitus craze sweeping the city), mothers in a small northern New York community are unbelievably hungry. . . so much so that they decide to munch on their children and significant others – in fact, they are seemingly drawn to them (but then again, they also gravitate towards dumpsters faster than an overweight racoon – so that might not be saying too much).
With a corrupt police force and oblivious husbands (after all, their heads are buried so deep in their mistress’s buxom bosoms that they rarely see anything else), the only hope for this Mr. Magoo community is a ragtag group of teens who are all extremely embittered with their parents (but that was before all of the cannibalism started). Though, with parents that aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed (excluding their pointy teeth), can these weak-gened teens do anything to stop this from spreading. . . especially when after discussing his mother eating his brother, one character blandly exclaims, “She’s never done that before” – as if he’s talking about her putting nutmeg in the mashed potatoes. Though, a major bonus for the town finds them attracting a doctor who only works with patients who have a venereal disease. . . though you might not like him too much, he’s often a bit crabby.
Despite the wooden acting (which seems to match the always stimulated state of the local husbands), special effects wizard Carl Sorensen (Child’s Play) somewhat saves the piece with his impressive (for the limited budget) zombies. . . actually, you might just think this one had a one hundred grand budget instead. Plus there is the added effect of having those mothers who have brought them into this world attempt to take them out of it in such a horrific way – the stuff of nightmares.
A rare example of Momma not knowing best, Flesh Eating Mothers is an absurd, little seen, ultra campy entry into the zombie genre that will have you wondering who bit off more than they could chew! Though it lightly touches on themes like the ongoing AIDS crisis and societal changes of the time, it never really delves into these topics to make any tangent points. What it does do. . . leave you with a couple of awkward laughs, a few effective scares, and another abstract check on your ‘horror movies watched’ list. So, despite this one having an acquired taste, you might want to give it a bite (suggestion – it goes well with a glass of milk). . . but don’t come back complaining to me if you find yourself dreading this upcoming Mother’s Day.