Rölli - Amazing Tales (1991)

Lately the fairy tale films of Russia and Eastern Europe have been greatly influencing my personal viewing cycle. I simply want to be surrounded by dancing forest animals, sprites, chicken legged witch houses, werewolf servants and , sure - why not - "Rölli's". I went into Rölli - Amazing Tales blindly, knowing nothing except that the appearance of the leading troll creature fits in with an aesthetic that I crave. 

"Rölli" is an impish little forest dwelling man-beast who romps around with false bravado, attempting to scare and intimidate other critters. When he encounters a Forest Fairy his soft nature is revealed when he saves her from an attack from a "BIG Rolli" (Rölli is not only his name but his species, somewhat confusingly). After this a friendship forms, they pair off for the duration of the film. Generally speaking, the movie follows a somewhat generic straight-to-video kids movie approach. Despite having some cool costumers here and there, it's not terribly artistic or moving. It has an eco-friendly "take-care-of-mother-earth" agenda, and honestly doesn't have much to offer an adult audience.

When I first turned it on I could have SWORN the title theme was sung by Nina Hagen. Sweet and feminine one minute, then hitting this strange goblin-eque notes of terror in the chorus. I was so convinced that I made up my mind at that point that the film was automatically the greatest thing ever. A premature summary to say the least. For starters, it was NOT Nina Hagen, it was the two main characters, Rölli and the Forest Fairy (hence the sweet and feminine with the guttural troll pipes). Also, I realized that wouldn't have made sense anyway because Rölli is Finnish and Nina is German, oy! The character of Rölli is the creation of Finnish singer, Allu Tuppurainen. He went on to play the character in various forms on stage and screen. It of course only makes sense that he wrote and performed all of the songs too!

I sadly was just not terribly impressed with Rölli - Amazing Tales. I so wanted to be but perhaps I have become spoiled by much greater films from that area of the world. Very little depth or complexity on any level, and for the genre there was far too little magic and enchantment! Quite literally a throw away fairy tale, aw shucks...


Don't Panic - 1988

Oy! Spoilers ahead...

I first discovered Don't Panic earlier this year when it was recommended to me by a trusted movie buddy. I had intended to review upon first viewing but as I recall I was quite overwhelmed as it met basically every point of favorability I seek in a campy 80's slasher movie. You would think by the bewilderment and pressure I was putting upon myself to do this review that I was writing a dissertation on Italian Neo-realism and it's effect on post-war Europe, but in reality I'm just hypnotized by the sight of grown men in dinosaur jammies...

On paper Don't Panic is your typical 80's horror fodder, leaning strongly towards Nightmare on Elm Street rip-off territory. That's not to say I mind, many of my favorite films borrow heavily from the success of previous films. Despite the excellency of a film such as Nightmare on Elm Street, to see the awkward charm of a loose and clumsy Mexican reworking is somehow much more rewarding. The story follows a tragically nerdy Steve Sanders look-a-like named Michael who has recently moved to Mexico City with his alcoholic mother from Beverly Hills (ironic?!). It's his 17th birthday and after his party a few friends decide to stick around and ambush him with a surprise seance via Ouija board. A recipe for disaster in any horror movie. This is when we're introduced to two pivotal characters. His turd-faced best friend Tony and his love interest Alexandra who, bless her heart, has the most obnoxious distracting unibrow I've ever seen.

There are some other friends present but they're basically just monster bait, so I didn't bother learning their names. After a reluctant game of Ouija where Tony, acting the part of an 80's movie best friend, being a jerk, making jokes, insulting ghosts, etc. He's dead meat. Mike's alckly mother breaks up the party and puts him to bed, dino-jammies and all.

After this Michael begins to have a series of dreams where he's seeing through the eyes of a ghost murderer. His friends begin to die off and poor Steve-Sanders-clone is destined to run around like a little bitchface child, whining and flailing about like the lame little booger eater he is. I don't mean to be so hard on Steve, er Michael. He just invokes a deep rooted mean-spirited side of me. If I knew him in real life I would have bullied him relentlessly. Partially because I'm an asshole, but mostly because he sucks. I love him for it, but he sucks big time.

One of the highlights of the film is when Turd-face Tony explains to Michael that if he really wants to show Alexandra how he feels he needs to bestow upon her a magical rose. In a bromantic scene of epic homo-eroticism, Tony gives Michael a rose from the vase in his room (why does this teenage boy have a vase of roses in his bedroom??) and explains that as long as the petals never wilt and die, neither will their love. He's like the witch at the beginning of Beauty and the Beast only way fartier. The love story angle in the movie is laughable, reaching after-school-special proportions of nauseating cheesiness. And again, with Alexandra's unibrow deserving it's own screen credit, she plays second banana in ever single scene.

The horror elements of the film are decent. Nothing to write home about, but passable and keep the story going amidst the hilarious teenage drama. That's the real star here (as well as the dinosaur PJ's). The melodrama between characters sets this apart from most Nightmare on Elm Street Rip-offs and your run of the mill slasher film. We later find out that the killer is Tony who was possessed by a demon named "Virgil" (endlessly awkward demon name) the night of Ouija board. Likely for being a huge irritating dork.

I really cannot speak highly enough about Don't Panic. It's relatively new to me but it already has found a place in my heart. It's amongst a very elite grouping of slashers that I consider to be perfect examples of their own kind of art. A balance of humor, horror and ineptitude that creates a symphony of trash cinema to the likes of which I am honored to experience again and again. This second viewing offered more insight into why I felt so overwhelmed the first time. When you really enjoy something on a basic fundamental level it's difficult to express without falling into endless ellipses. With genre movies it's easy to feel self conscious because obviously there are some people who just won't get why a film like Don't Panic is so special. Let me put it it this way; if Pizza was a movie, not a food, it would be Don't Panic. Simple as that. Childhood dreams and memories I didn't even have all wrapped up in a nicely little package. It certainly deserves a DVD (or heck, blu-ray, why not?) release, but in the meantime if you can track down a copy it official has the Scumbalina seal of approval!


I Was a Teenage Mummy - 1962

What is it about kids making movies that is so undeniably adorable?! I'm a sucker for these 8mm/16mm home made monster movies produced by children in the 60's and 70's. I had never heard of I Was a Teenage Mummy until a friend of mine asked me if I could track it down for him. I'm always up for a challenge so I examined my resources and managed to finagle a copy.

I Was a Teenage Mummy or I Was an Invisible-Teenage-Man? Who can tell??

An homage to classic monster movies, this charming little flick has a basic Universal's "The Mummy" plot with an added cute child version of Peter Lorre that truly made my heart melt. Obviously an amateur production but the details are spot on. Lots of little touches and accurate costume details that make it an impressive achievement for a group of youngsters, or adults for that matter. It doesn't take itself too seriously, The dialogue was dubbed much later and is spoken in a way that every line references a film title. Throwing "The Man Who Knew Too Much", "Sunday, Bloody Sunday", Spellbound", "High Anxiety" and "Lolita" around in sentences. It creates a fun diversion for movie lovers.

The introduction by Forrest J. Ackerman was a nice touch, especially since the movie's so short (about an hour). He gives us a little tour of his "Acker Museum" where he humbly shows off his world famous collection of priceless movie memorabilia. Looking as festive as a Horror Host, Forry, dressed in a black cape is as adorable as can be while he casually shows off the rings worn by Boris Karloff in the Mummy and Bela Lugosi in Dracula on each hand. I love him dearly; every time I see his darling face I feel cheated out of the Grandpa I deserved.

He speaks affectionately of I Was a Teenage Mummy, comparing his encounter with the film and director Ralph Bluemke to his first meeting with a young John Landis after the screening of Schlock. He talks about how the poor 15 year old in the mummy costume endured the same endless torment as Karloff did having undergone the extreme cosmetics in the Mummy. He mentions subtleties like how they achieved the aged look of the bandages by dying them with tea. It's this attention to detail that makes the viewing experience so endearing. A lot of heart went into the film and by the end, you're really wishing that the unavailable semi-sequel "I Was a Teenage Apeman" advertised after the credits had seen the light of day.

Some of the shots are really quite beautiful. Can't beat the raw talent of youth!

Cute kids dressed as monsters, lines such as "Oh, Camel Muffins!" and the Forrest J. Ackerman seal of approval. What else do you need really?

The Imp - 1981

The Imp is an unusual little Hong Kong horror flick. I'm by no means an expert on HK cinema but as far as I've noticed, in Hong Kong they're all about silly scares. Take Mr. Vampire for instance. Possibly the most successful HK genre film of all time, no? It has at very least spawned the largest franchise. It mixes horror and comedy in a way that creates a Scooby-doo-esque kid-friendly supernatural atmosphere. It's been my experience that the craze of Jiangshi films set the standard for what horror movies would be in Hong Kong for decades. Bearing this in mind, The Imp is a stark contrast to all the fun and frills you would find in a chop socky Hopping Vampire flick.

Keung is a hapless young man. Struggling to find work while his pregnant wife is constantly harshing his mellow. After a series of failed interviews, he finally lands a job as an overnight security guard in a shopping center. It would seem that misfortune is following him because shortly after he takes the job, one of his colleges chokes on their lunch (puppy stew, ugh) and dies. At the funeral Kueng meets a priest who senses a dark energy surrounding him. While his other co-workers continue to turn up dead in a variety of mysterious circumstances, the priest discovers that Keung was born at a very unlucky time. At the time which the yin is strongest and the yang is weakest making him susceptible to evil spirits. In short, there's some spooky shit out to get Keung. At first attempting to take over him physically, then deciding it would be easier to be reincarnated into his unborn child. Mayhem and creepines ensues.

While taking a more serious approach to horror film making than it's predecessors, The Imp makes a gallant effort but somehow falls a bit short. Although interesting, atmospheric and certainly worth the watch, it never seems to fully realize it's potential. It suffers a bit from it's own pacing, which would be ok if there was some kind of extravagant pay off. What we're left with is an eerie, beautifully shot film that leaves you wishing they'd taken it a little further. So close to perfection yet the fact that it didn't quite make it leaves you feeling high and dry. It's no wonder that the Imp has gained a cult following over the years. It certainly is different. More Western influenced that any other HK horror flick I've seen, using simple but effective John Carpenter-esque ambiance. While it never produces the epic monster battle I've become accustomed to receiving , it delivers a fair amount of ghoulishness that you would find in a really scary Halloween haunted house. This lends more to the horror/comedy style I was talking about earlier, which explains why I was left wanting more.

I would recommend it to those who are already connoisseurs of Hong Kong horror (though you're probably are already familiar with it). Perhaps I've just been spoiled by the Shaw Brothers and Sammo Hung. The Imp falls somewhere in between a solid good horror movie and an amazing horror movie. That line is so thin that it would be completely up to the individual which direction it would sway.


The Iron Rose - 1973

Beware dear readers, spoilers ahead....

It had been a while since I'd watched a new (to me) Jean Rollin film. After my less than savory experience with Da Hip Hop Witch yesterday, I really needed to class up my act. Even the previous few films I'd watched, while amazing and beautiful and perfect in every way, were so campy that my frontal lobe was going on strike. Such is the case every time I indulge deeply into any one particular type of cinema for too long. Once movies that have made the IMDB's bottom 100 come into play, I'm basically in a celluloid induced coma until I allow my eyeballs to absorb something a little more sophisticated and whimsical. That being said, I decided it was finally time to experience and enjoy Jean Rollin's the Iron Rose.

I say "experience and enjoy" with certainty as I have observed that Rollin, even at his weakest, has the ability to create a frightening and alluring world that's both haunting and enticing. I've yet to be disappointed by any of his films and Iron Rose, though unique and beautiful in it's own way, was no different.

An amazing little French cottage we see for just a moment at the beginning of the film.

A young man and woman meet at a wedding party. They're instantly attracted to each other and decide to go on a biking date the following day. They meet and ride around for hours. Their chemistry is wildly passionate through the screen. They end up in a large provincial cemetery and decide to explore it on foot. They find an underground crypt where they descend to make love. Their entire relationship up until this point is very sweet and romantic. After they've exited the tomb, night has fallen and they both appear a bit anxious about it. As they they head back in the direction from which they came they realize that nothing is familiar. It's pitch black and they're surrounded by graves for what seems like an infinity. The girl begins to panic and displays extreme erratic mood swings. The stress of  the situation combined with the girl's drastic hysterics cause the young man's behavior to radically change as well. After a violent outburst towards each other, the girl, defeated and seemingly deranged, tags along while the young man attempts to find their way out. The romantic and dreamlike date has turned into a nightmarish purgatory of  fear and confusion.

While it's never directly addressed there's a real sense of death having already befallen them in the frustration of their search for the cemetery gates. Whenever I see this kind of disorientation in a horror movie setting, I generally associate it with a lack of willingness to accept the hereafter. The idea of a graveyard with no exit is about as strong a metaphor as I could possibly conceive. Once you examine the film with this in mind, the crypt where they make love appears to be a metonymy for their looming mortality.

This theory may be a stretch but apart of the beauty of Rollin's films is the wonderment that they leave you with. What at first glance may seem like nothing more than your run of the mill European erotic horror movie, ends up leaving you feeling a wisftul sense of melancholy. I would also like to add that I adore the way Rollin films women. Whether they're nude or fully clothed, they're sexual beings and not sexual objects. For films with such heavy sensual themes, I find this both noble and impressive.

The Iron Rose was Jean Rollin's first non-vampire film. A beautiful example of his ability to create atmosphere in an equally as haunting yet less genre-specific domain. A wonderful start to a more extensive body of work, all of which should be studied and admired. The Iron Rose was just what I needed to wash the taste of poorly executed SOV contemporary garbage out of my mouth. I cannot wait until my next "first viewing" of a Jean Rollin film!


Da Hip Hop Witch - 2000

Well, I finally did it. I found my Achilles Heel of shit movies. After years of searching, I found the most derivative, obnoxious waste of time ever committed to video. NOPE, don't try to convince me that anything else could ever live up to this monstrosity. Da Hip Hop Witch managed to beat out Another Son of Sam, the former holder of the worst-film-I've-ever-seen title. It was so unbearable I actually had to have my husband help me put together some thoughts on this one. After staying up way too late drinking brandy and reviewing Gore-Met, Zombie Chef from Hell. I just didn't have it in me to make my brain process this as I would a normal review.

Some movies work like complex puzzles, full of twists and turns, false set ups, fake endings. Leading you in different directions, sometimes taking you back to the beginning and wrapping up the stories in intricate developments and intricate riddles. Then there are stories like Da Hip Hop Witch, that are the equivalent of   a rudimentary children's maze that you would find on the back of a cereal box. How this movie was made is mind boggling. Almost as much as how the filmmakers could have possibly coerced all of the famous rappers to appear in the film, which begs the question, How many rappers does it take to make piece of shit film? But I digress…

Da Hip Hop Witch works(?) itself as a rip-off of “Blair Witch Project”, which is obvious from the opening title cards claiming she is a “Black Witch from the projects” and the rappers she has been terrorizing  with her presence. Some of the claims made about her are:

  •  She has long hairy fingernails
  • Long dreads
  • Green (or purple depending on who you ask) hair and big titties
  • 20-inch feet
  • 6-foot long fingers, which she loves to shove up Eminem’s ass.. etc.

A good 75% of this film is devoted to filming rappers redundantly reiterating their own accounts of what she looked like. Which ranged from “An ugly as bitch I wouldn't fuck” to “beautiful skank that I fucked.” Most of the dialogue seemed to be ad-libbed, shot in one take and probably a good portion in rappers dressing rooms between rap concerts. But of course, that only takes up a good hour of the film, they needed 20 minutes of story. What to do? Add two subplots that go NOFUCKINGWHERE!

  How these stories interweave is the equivalent of three blind drag races speeding barreling down a dead end street. And the ending’s reveal of the identity of Da Hip Hop Witch is as confusing as it is lukewarm with absolutely no relevance to the 30-plus accounts given in the film!

Da Hip Hop Witch is a train wreck of the worst kind. It is too far gone in bad taste to be watched for camp. But, if you do decide to trek through this fecal-flick here are some things I noticed:

  • Eminem gets top billing; Vanilla Ice gets last.
  • Vanilla Ice gets a tattoo during the movie, which we speculated was paid for by the crew, and that was his compensation for appearing in the film.
  • In Eminem’s studio (which just looks like an office lunch room with “Shady Records” stickers on the door) there are several close up shots of Bud Light bottles which are all blurred, sometimes blurring out over half the screen.
  • Da Hip Hop Witch ONLY attacks rap artists… with the exception of “pop star” Vitamin C and five white kids from the burbs, one of which is played by Mia Tyler, Stephen Tyler's other daughter..
  • Royce Da 5’9” upon hearing Da Hip Hop Witch tried to shove her finger up Eminem’s ass, claims “Slim’s always having things shoved up his ass”

That’s all I have to report. It was a harrowing viewing experience. I've never felt such a combination of boredom and frustration. Glad I was able to finish this, so you don’t have to.

Gore-Met, Zombie Chef from Hell - 1986

To keep with the general spirit of food and SOV movies, yesterday after Microwave Massacre I decided to finally throw on Gore-Met, Zombie Chef from Hell. It's been in my collection for quite a few years, which I often feel guilty about. That is until those moments come where I'm too broke to buy movies and I'm feeling lazy, cozy and relieved that I've stock piled a ridiculous amount of movies which are seemingly on the back burner indefinitely.

Besides having one of the most creative/retarded titles of all time, GORE-MET, Zombie Chef from Hell is just as incompetent as it would suggest. For starters, let's just delve into the ridiculousness of the title. The idea of a Zombie Chef is really confusing. Zombies are pretty much like carnivorous robots. They simply consume. The idea of the sophisticated preparation of human flesh by an undead being is Hi-larious.

Does it actually live up to the title? in short; YES. While Gore-Met might be a nonsensical cluster-fuck, it fills a very tiny void of film history that could only exist in a dimension where sorcerers wear sweatshirts and serve each other "slimy slider" cocktails in a North Carolina dive bar.

The plot, or whatever resembles one, revolves around an ancient cult/sect called (and I am not fucking kidding right now) "the Righteous Brotherhood".....

Read it again slowly...


Am I sensing a hint of fanboy-ism on director Don Swan's part? Just to warn you from here on out this cult will now be referred to simply as the Righteous Brothers.

When the Righteous Brothers discover that one of their most powerful members has killed the high priestess in attempt gain total control, they drag him out to the forest and cast a curse on him that will make it so he never dies but must constantly consume human flesh so that he doesn't slowly rot away. A fate worse than death. Jump ahead 600 years or so and "Goza" (who I, and I'm pretty sure every other person who has EVER seen this movie mistook for "Gozer" of Ghostbusters fame) is now working in the ugliest, shittiest, most repulsive looking bar I've ever seen. Goza works as the head chef, where he apparently cooks and consumes the customers himself, and also (for whatever stupid reason) serves human flesh to the public. Working as his bartender/assistant is Blozor. A big hulking dork of an ancient warlock who has no real power except to knock someone's head off with a simple punch to the face.

The Righteous Brothers have realized their error in allowing Goza to live, so in attempt to put him in his place and strip him of his power there's an epic battle of wizardry which involves absolutely no special effects at all. Simply the staggering talent of two amateur actors. One in a Hawaiian shirt, the other in a simple pull over hoodie. With heated dialogue and dramatic hand gestures, we the audience are treated to the most pathetic and inept battle sequence of all time. Not even kidding here. I was so conflicted between the excitement of the soap opera-like dialogue and the anti-climatic action sequence that my internal organs entangled themselves in a barftastic explosion of hysterics which ended with me rolling off my bed, out of the bedroom, out my apartment, into the streets where I laid there until I car came by and hit me, I died and was reanimated by the Righteous Brothers, had to live off of flesh to stay alive, and the cycle started all over again with someone else. This is the impact that Gore-met, Zombie Chef from Hell will have on your life.

For a movie with such a deliberately exaggerated title there's very little gore and no real "zombie". Customers complain about hair and jewelry being in their food so I wouldn't really call him a "chef", and "hell" isn't even really a factor at all. All of that considered, somehow (despite what other reviewers may say) Gore-Met delivers. For being as clumsy and incoherent as it truly is, there's an undeniable gonzo quality that is a rare treat in a film from any decade.

In closing; is Gore-Met a decent film? Definitely not. Will you enjoy it? I doubt it. Should you love and obsess over it? YES. Proceed with the lowest of expectations and the highest dose of whatever your preferred substance may be and marvel at the glorious inadequacy.


Microwave Massacre -1983

I feel almost ashamed for having never seen today's dose of absurdity. It's been a constant blip on my radar but there's always so much to see it somehow just kept getting put off. Until today! It's cold and rainy over here in Pasadena, which is a refreshing change since we were in a heat wave just a few weeks ago. The weather made me crave pizza and pajamas. Pizza and pajamas makes me crave 80's Shot on Video horror movies. Couldn't have picked a more perfect day to watch Microwave Massacre.

Donald is an average Joe. He works in construction and enjoys bologna sandwiches and cheese burgers. While his co-workers partake in simple manly lunches he's forced to endure over ambitious crab sandwiches (as in, an entire king crabs in the shell between bread) and other fancy schmancy fodder. All courtesy of his wife's new over-sized microwave, this is the case for all of his meals. She's such a horrid cook that he snaps, bludgeoning her with a giant pepper shaker. After waking up the next day from a post-murder black out, he discovers his dismembered wife in the microwave. Naturally, he wraps her pieces up in foil and keeps her in the freezer for safe keeping. At this point he decides to clean out all of her pre-made wrapped up meals, so in the garbage they go. He walks away, leaving the door opened which allows her hand rolls out into the pile of Lean Cuisine foolishness. Several hours or maybe even a day later he gets hungry and decides to eat the frozen food he had discarded OUT of the garbage (George Costanza style), which is pretty vile unto itself, only to discover that the delicious bloody meat he's enjoying is the arm of his late wife. Oh dear. From this point on the movie is a haze of him somehow luring sexy broads, mostly hookers but not exclusively, to his house where he makes a meal out of them.

Comedian Jackie Vernon (the voice of Frosty the Snowman!) plays Donald, in his final feature film. He has a Rodney Dangerfield-eque delivery and considering the material he handles the role with just the right amount of aloofness. Like this old timer comedian just kind of wandered on set one day and they offered him twenty bucks and a sandwich (hold the arm).

While I understand the wife's desire to create pretentious elegant dishes (refer to my instagram) I feel that the real message here is of the horrors and uselessness of microwave meals. I love flipping through old cookbooks in thrift stores, and even buying them if they're extra horrifying. It always astonishes me to see the things that were trendy to eat in the 50's-70's. It was more about convenience, color and how far it can stretch than freshness and edibility. Bad food plateaued in the 80's with the rising popularity of microwaves which led to a slew of  "Microwave Cookbooks". You know what I'm talking about. The ones that claim you can roast a whole turkey in that radiated death box. Microwave Massacre is clearly parodying this bullshit mentality. The combination of food and film, or better yet, food and horror films is one of my greatest pleasures. I'm rambling a bit here but what I'm saying is I totally understand Donald's plight and his wife probably deserved to die.

I always feel the need to give every movie I review some kind of thumb-up/thumb-down in case it isn't clear from the way I've discussed it. I rarely mention movies I don't enjoy, and even if they're tough and I rib on them a bit like Zombie 5 or Mad Doctor of Blood Island, I never regret watching them. This isn't even one of those instances, I absolutely loved Microwave Massacre. It reminded me of some of H.G. Lewis's later efforts mixed with some hyper-sexualized Russ Meyers cleavage shots, a likable doofus of a main character and lots of silly looking body parts. My only real disappointment with the film is that the microwave does not massacre anyone. Naturally I was expecting a classic case of "Killer Appliance", but I'm still quite content with the Blood Feast-like premise. The idea of organized suburban cannibalism is quaint. It's a gem of a film and if I must visually convince you....

P.S...I feel the need to add that that weird long man thumb does not belong to my dainty bird-like female hand.

P.S.S....also, I am aware that birds do not have hands.



Mad Doctor of Blood Island - 1968

After the success of Brides of Blood, director Eddie Romero re-enlisted actor John Ashley to come back to the Philippines for a follow up. Having LOVED Brides of Blood I just assumed Mad Doctor would have all of the same qualities I found so appealing in its predecessor.

A group of people who travel to an island discover that a mad doctor is doing experiments on people turning them into green blooded zombie-like monsters. While green blooded zombies sound cool an all, Mad Doctor did not live up to Brides of Blood by any stretch. The print I watched was in pretty bad shape too. The hues were constantly changing. At certain moments it gave a cool Argento-like effect but mostly it was a distracting error. There was also this swift zoom-in/zoom-out camera shake thing that happened anytime there was danger. I've never been one of those people who gets motion sickness during shaky movie scene but this actually did give me a little bit of a headache. The Carlos character's weird over-dubbing and his Freudian relationship with his mother was the most captivating part o the film and even that novelty wore off after a while.

I must say though, the monster is pretty amazing looking.

I really don't have a whole lot to say about Mad Doctor of Blood Island. It would normally not make the cut of a film I felt deemed reviewing but in lieu of Schlocktober which means all horror watched this month must be acknowledged. While I wasn't terribly thrilled with it, I didn't go in expecting much more than a late night throw-away movie, and that's exactly what I got. So if you're up late and craving something island-y and gooey to nod off to, Mad Doctor of Blood island is just what the Mad Doctor ordered.

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Before I sign off, I should mention that I recently saw Insidious: Chapter 2. Though I had no intention of devoting an entire review to it, I feel for sake of maintaining an accurate list it needs to be cited. I'm very particular about reviewing modern movies. It's not that I don't watch or enjoy them, I just feel that there are hundreds and thousands of blogs and websites that discuss brand new movies and it rarely feels relevant here at Atomic Caravan. To sum it up briefly, I did enjoy the film. I don't want to get into any depth or summary but I felt it was a competent if not somewhat over indulgent follow up.

That's all!