December 23, 2014

ELVES


Exploitation Movie Review (EMR): Merry Christmas, Quippers! (I’m gonna call you all Quippers from now on, you fucking disgusting label whores.) This month’s offering is a dreadful little piece of shit which hilariously brief research tells me was filmed, scored, and released. The only thing you need to know is that this fucking turd clocks in at just over an hour and a half while Corman’s The Fall of the House of Usher clocks in only at an hour and a quarter. But hey, if there were any justice in the world, O.J. wouldn’t be sitting in jail right now.

This film starts as it means to go on: by looking and sounding like an episode of “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” - with added witchcraft, woman-beating and Nazi paraphernalia, but heavily reduced levels of Gary.

The End of Summer (TEOS): Try as hard as you want to be ominous and foreboding, you stupid movie, but everything you establish in your pretty lame opening credit sequence is completely overcome by the word ELVES popping up on screen, and in a font that I’m pretty sure is Times New Roman.

Speaking of laughing at incompetence:


TEOS: C’mon...NO ONE caught that?

Elves opens with a gaggle of teen girls hauling ass out to the middle of the woods where they’re about to spread a blanket, bitch about Christmas, and perhaps do some light kissing. Man, have these girls been reading my dream journal?

EMR: Haha, these crazy bitches. I was going to mention that this hanging-out-in-the-woods-and-hating-on-Christmas deal doesn’t seem like a healthy or regular activity for teenage girls, but then I got a look at the lead girl, Kirsten (pronounced Keehr-stin), and she looks like Bibi Besch and the mom from Harry & The Hendersons used a semen applicator shaped like Bret Michaels’ fist to smash dumpster jizz into each other out of spite. Man, she looks fucking old. I’m glad I didn’t start getting laid until the early 2000s when 15-year-old girls at least LOOKED like 13-year-old-girls.

TEOS: Speaking of sexy things, I admit: the minute these three teenage girls knelt down and spread out a blanket, I thought sex was about to happen. Has pornography poisoned my mind, or has my lack of a sex life turned me into a pervert?

You decide.
 

EMR: I don’t know, man. These three look old enough to be moms, and the only three moms I’m interested in seeing fucking each other are Ellen Griswold, Beverly Sutphin, and Missy Logan (with an honourable mention for Peggy Bundy. She can be, like, watching or something.).

Jumping Jesus, is this how teenage girls talk? Like this? One of them mentioned a guy called “Dave,” who I’m assuming she wants to bang. If Dave’s got any sense, he’ll pretend the start of this movie is a documentary about the Jersey Devil, beat this bitch to death with a shin bone, and eat her hands and teeth so the county medical examiner can’t identify the body.

Oh, Kirsten’s just mentioned “the Master Race.” Bit of subtle foreshadowing, there. It’s like this film is the school and Damon Lindelof was the student.


TEOS: You know, as someone who is actually a little anti-Christmas, I don’t appreciate the feature film Elves suggesting that this stance makes me tantamount to a bunch of air-head white supremacists who are so mentally vapid that they’ve brought a blanket all the way into the woods but chose to sit directly on the fucking ground. Because I’m anti-Christmas I’m also an anti-Semite and a bigot? What the fuck, I love Larry David AND I downloaded the N.W.A. this week!

EMR: Have I really got to be the one who points out the crude, fan-fic, Staedtler Noris Club Jumbo pencil drawing of the “anti-Christmas nymph”? There are tits RIGHT ON SHOW HERE, MAN! PENCIL TITS! Jesus, if they wanted to remake this movie for a modern audience, all they’d have to add would be hentai tentacles and some pixellated dicks.

TEOS: It’s a pretty good drawing, to be fair. Here’s hoping someone locks it in the safe on a majestic cruise ship doomed to sail into a giant metaphor so Bill Paxton can find it a hundred years later while having hilarious frosted N’Sync hair.

"I want you to draw me like one of your nightmares."

EMR: “Hey, the candle!” … Hey, the candle what? I’m no scientist nerd-loser or anything, but I’m pretty sure that if you light a candle, the very action of the wick burning is pretty much what it’s supposed to do, so why is this dumb fucking broad acting like it’s just turned into 1:100 scale diorama of ... losing his mind and feeding Chili dogs into ... asshole? (I’m coming back to this - it’s late and I can’t think of anything funny.)

TEOS: Are you losing your mind already? We’re barely out of the credits.

EMR: Whatever, man. Y'know, for all my ragging of Lindelof, I sure know how to make people fill in the blanks that I can't be bothered with.

Like I say: whatever. It's very zeitgeist. I am the zeitgeist. I believe that with every fibre of my being.

Oh, great. Now Kirsten’s cut her hand. You fucking idiots. You’d better hope this doesn’t give life to an old, Nazi experiment to build a master race of elves.
 

TEOS: Boy, this sure fizzled real fast. A snuffed candle and a cut finger is enough to halt their ritual? Talk about dedication, girls. Instead, maybe you’d better get to the mall, grab a hot dinner from Sbarros, and then throw it all up in the bathroom of Things Remembered.

But no, instead they go home clutching their school books like a bunch of Marys.

Keer-stin - this is her, right? - totes got caught slipping an old book back onto a shelf, and for her troubles, her face meets her grandfather’s hand a couple times.

Oh my god, do you hear how Jewish this old wheelchair-bound grandfather is? I laughed at the slaps, and I laughed again at the bad fake Jew voice.


EMR: I can never hear the sound of a Jewish voice over the sound of all the change in their pockets.

Gramps is looking to wash that gash...on Kirsten’s hand. Kirsten just says that she’ll do it, but in such a way as to make it seem like she’s used to Grandpa coming onto her in this way.

“Ah, Kirsten, I see zhat you have a split...on your lip. Here, let Grandpa kizz it better.”

“Oh Grampa!”

*whimsical music/ the sound of children’s screams and clowns masturbating*


"There's...something outside, and it wants to talk to us about Jesus."

TEOS: Holy crap. Keer-stin’s icy cunt of a mother doesn’t think trespassing into her grandfather’s room is punishable with just two slaps. She’s going to close down Keer-stin's savings account and keep the money. What a fuckhead. I barely know this woman, but I want her instantly dead.

Also, did you laugh when Keer-stin’s mother confronted her about going in Grampa's room and Keerstin rolled her eyes and responded, “He’s already slapped me twice.” Because I did. I want to know if anyone else is amused by the image of an old man slapping a teenage girl.

EMR: Closing down a Jewish girl’s savings account is like telling… 
Hi, EMR here. One half of the blogging duo Two Guys, One Quip. You’ve probably heard of us from "Gorbachev’s Laugh-nost." We’ve had a lot of yucks this year, and some of them have actually been you laughing WITH us. Since it’s Christmas, we wanted to give you, the reader, the opportunity to take part in one of our reviews. As you can see above, I’ve just started on the path to a really quite offensive racial slur. One which could very easily see me sharing a steel sprung bunk bed, up in county, with a guy called "Maria." To save me getting blasted in the ass so hard that every time I shit, Leonard Peltier cries, I’m offering you the opportunity to “fill in the blank,” as it were, with the racial slur of your choice. Closing date for entries is January 12th and you can submit your slur in the comments section, below this article. Thanks for listening, enjoy the rest of the review.
But seriously, closing down this girl’s savings account is a terrible thing to do. How the hell is she supposed to pay to have Grandpa’s kids aborted, now?

TEOS: Okay, this is not the first film I’ve seen in which a little brother purposely spies on his big sister in the shower. That’s...really unsettling.

OH MY GOD.

Keer-stin calls him a pervert, and he goes on to say ALL this:

I’m not a pervert! I like seeing naked girls! And you’ve got fucking big tits, and I’m gonna tell everyone I saw them! Fuck you, Mom says she’s giving me all your money, so fuck you!
I’m not really sure how or why, but this scene ends with the siblings play-wrestling on the bed, not at all incensed with each other.

This movie is already so insane and seedy and ridiculous that after Charles Band saw it, he sued out of spite, his grounds for charges being he “would have eventually thought of something like this.”


EMR: Did you see that kid’s sweet Donatello PJs? The way he was talking, I’d have expected him to be more of a Michelangelo fan. Huh. You learn something new every day.

Oh, I’m also adopting that part of the script as my family motto because it pretty much says everything I believe in, ever. Here’s what it looks like, in Latin, after I ran it through a Google translator, and put it in a fancy font:



EMR: I don’t know about you, but I think that looks pretty fucking sophisticated.

TEOS: I’d put it on my wedding invitations. If only anyone would have me….

Also, I couldn’t resist. I translated it BACK into English:

I'm not a pervert! It helps, it helps to see the elbows. And you've got a great fucking tits, and seemed to take pleasure in their praise of all men? I'll bugger you, he says, gives all the money, it was given to me, so cheap!
EMR: So, Kirsten’s having a pretty bad day, all things considered, and the only friend she has left (by her own admission, not mine. Personally, I think she’s being fucking churlish, because those other two broads she was in the forest with weren’t exactly pushing her around and calling her out on her triple thick maxi-pads or whatever, so she HAS friends) is her cat. So, while she’s tucked away in bed like Mary Ellen Walton, the Nazi Elf who’s been resurrected by her bleeding paw-paw is making his way into the house via the basement. At least I think it’s the basement. To be honest, this film’s so fucking dark and misleading, I may as well be watching AvP: Requiem

TEOS: Ha! So Keer-stin is standing in the Santa line with her assholes Amy and Brooke so they can “goof on Santa,” which is something she’d been “waiting for all day.” You know, Keer-stin is definitely attractive by late-‘80s standards, and based on what she "waits for all day," there’s also something clearly the matter with her, so I’d like to think even someone of my limited social life in high school could’ve definitely banged her.

EMR: It’s sad to think that in the days before Internet porn and randomly hooking up with strangers online, whom you’ve managed to convince you play middle linebacker for the Oakland Raiders (but you’ve spent the entire season on the bench because the coach is an asshole), this was the only tang on offer.

*sigh* Well, it’s either one of these three or Molly Ringwald, I guess.

What the fuck was that exchange between the bear from The Great Outdoors and the gayest department store clerk this side of a San Francisco J.C. Penney’s? Man, the sheer sincerity to that guy’s performance actually made me a little sad. I’m almost going to be disappointed when the Elf shows up to ruin an otherwise pretty watchable Merchant Ivory Christmas movie.


David Strathairn meets George Lucas; remains unimpressed.

TEOS: Did you catch Santa telling that little boy about Nintendos being on sale in the mall basement? Forget Charles Band - I think it’s Victor Salva who’d be suing.

EMR: More concerned that the kid was having a stroke before he replied. Santa likes the boys who fit. They’re paralysed, but they’re still moving around just enough for it to seem like a struggle.

Wait, I think he’s telling every kid that what they want is in the basement. Now all I’m seeing is a damp, stone-wall basement. A solitary lightbulb swings gently under the draft from the rusted air shaft. It illuminates a sad and neglected room, which houses nothing but an old, wire-sprung mattress, its surface stained with rust and dried mucilage.

The children...they know nothing of the horrors that await them.


TEOS: Um, dude-

EMR: Santa slowly descends the rotting staircase into the basement, holding a battered Philips tape deck. A song stutters from the twisted speaker housing, distorted and weak from overuse; it is “I Know What Boys Like” by The Waitresses. The door closes behind him. Nothing now but the damp, and the solitary lightbulb that gently swings under the draft from the rusted air shaft.

“Merry Christmas…” hisses Santa “Do you like hotdogs…?”

“I FEeL nO piTy!!!!!!!” *more hissing*


TEOS: Jesus Christ, dude.

Welp, “goofing on Santa” sure blew up in Keer-stin’s face, in the sense that Santa wanted his Johnson to do the same. “Santa said oral” is my new favorite thing that Santa has ever said.


 Santa's a funny guy, I like him. I hope the Elf kills him...last.


EMR: I’m now starting to see what you mean about Kirsten being '80s hot. At first I was intrigued by her over-sized Guns n’ Roses t-shirt that she sleeps in, and now that I’ve seen her in a deli waitress outfit...I’ll take her down to Paradise City where the grass is green and Sybok releases you from your pain.

Do you think we’ll ever make enough money from doing these reviews to be able to get me the professional help I so desperately need?


TEOS: Once we earn enough taco money, I’m buying us tacos. Then we can worry about whatever mental ailments that haunt you.

So, cunt mother just put Keer-stin's cat into a pillowcase and drowned it in the toilet. Part of me is horrified, but the other part of me still forced to watch this film is envious of that dead wet pussy.


EMR: Dude!

That’s gross...


TEOS: Ouch, that killer elf cut off the pervert Santa’s ball sac? That’s almost as brutal as that time a killer elf cut off my ball sac.


EMR: Hmm, I’m no veteran of being stabbed in the particulars, but I really don’t see it as being that much of a deal. I mean, yeah, sure, it’d hurt like shit, but I’d like to think that it’d feel a little like standing on a tack. Yeah, you could argue that I’ve got no idea how biology works but, honestly, fuck you. I certainly have a better idea than this movie does, because this asshole has been stabbed in the dick, but he’s fallen to the floor and he’s bleeding from his mouth. Even if I claimed that every time I jerked off to screwing Kirsten in her Guns n’ Roses t-shirt and knee-high deli waitress socks, I shot, fucking... blue powder from the tip of my penis, I’d STILL have a better grasp on how biology works than this piece of shit movie.

TEOS: Wow, Keer-stin has had quite a day. She’s groped by a pervert Santa who is later found dead, then goes home to where her cunt mother has drowned her cat and buried it in the backyard. There’s a joke in there somewhere, but in reality, I just feel really bad for her.

Well, that passed. Maybe her spirits will lift by walking into her room to see that her little brother is sniffing her underwear drawer and she’ll be filled with the rejuvenating feeling of knowing at least she’s of use to someone out there, even if it’s in the secretion of vagina scent.


EMR: She’s also being treated as a prime suspect in the brutal Santa-castration-mouth-blood murder. Man, she’s so damaged…

I’ll dance with her Mr. Brownstone.

Anal.


TEOS: After having trouble sleeping, Kirsten hears her stupid cat scratching at the bedroom window, and after shouting his stupidly complicated name (“Agamemnon!” which no one in their right mind would ever name a pet), she springs from her bed to see what is the matter; at her window in a flash, she tears open the shutters, throws up the sash, and sees a stupid monster cat puppet.

I’d describe what the monster cat actually looks like, but this film is darker than Bill Duke’s brow.



EMR: I know, right? Bill Duke’s come-to-bed-eyes imply a menace Bill Cosby can only dream of.

TEOS: After the occurrence, Kirsten’s icy mother wants to know what it was that caused the whole house to awake from screaming.

“It was a troll,” Kristen says, as if it’s the most plausible thing on planet Earth. Obviously no one believes her except her grandfather, who demands to know more about it. “It was a ninja gremlin,” she says, I think jokingly, but now it’s too late: I’m thinking about how much better this film would be if the threat were a ninja gremlin.


EMR: Gramps seems to know something’s awry in the woods and makes mention of it to Kirsten’s mom, who dismisses his concerns as the ramblings of a wheelchair-bound, teutonic crack-pot with a creepy study and chakra crystals. We’ve all got one of those in the family.

I’m a little pissed that we’re not getting to see the picture he’s just shown to Kirsten. My mind immediately went to the Anti-Christmas Nymph from earlier, but an exchange of dialogue between the two of them pretty much confirms he’s talking about the Elf.

So, that means the pencil drawing of the “Anti-Christmas Nymph” is actually “Grandpa’s Jack-off Material.”

Gross.


TEOS: It would appear that this random, old, bearded, beaten-down, John Carl Buechler-looking prick is the new Santa. I guess that’s appropriate. Only now he’s in the backroom wiping baby piss off his pant leg and muttering, and man, I have to tell you, one of my biggest cinema pet peeves is when a character talks to himself for no reason other than to provide necessary exposition to the audience, and even though that’s going on right now, I have to take a step back, do my breathing exercises, and remember that this film is about Nazi elf rapists and I should really just relax.

Plus, we learned a lot about him!

“I’m not a detective anymore. I’ve not even a store detective. I’m Santa. All I have to do is take care of my reindeer.”
Weird soliloquy aside, if he's under the impression that’s all Santa’s responsible for - "taking care of reindeer" - there’s going to be millions of hilariously disappointed children on Christmas morning.

EMR: I love this guy. Like, actually love how earnest he is in his performance. He’s seriously elevating this shit. I think he was brought on board to detract from how suicidally bad this movie is. I wish he’d tell me a story about an old tree or something. He’s like Yaphet Koto in Truck Turner, except this movie has neither asked, nor answered, the question: “How would you feel if Nichelle Nichols dropped the 'Hailing Frequencies open’ schtick and said things like ‘They’d better learn to sell pussy in Iceland because if I ever see them again, I’m gonna cut their fuckin’ throats’?”

Gunnar Hansen has breakfast.

TEOS: It’s taken me 25 minutes, but I’ve finally noticed that the grandfather is a dead ringer for William Forsythe, right down to the awful voice, and the sense that even after 37 showers, this guy would still smell like a pile of assholes at the very bottom of the hamper.

EMR: I always think that about Tom Sizemore. Except that’s probably true.

So, who the fuck are these guys? The Nazi Elf Illuminati? I say that in jest, but I’d join the shit out of that cult if it were real.
 

TEOS: Jesus Christ, did that just fucking happen? Did those words just touch my ear drums? “When there is no more room in hell, the elves will walk the earth?”

Fuck you. I know it was my idea to watch this one for Christmas, but still: fuck you, man.

God. Fuck you.

Sorry. (Fucker.)


EMR: I’m going to chalk this sudden display of negative emotion to the red kryptonite that Grandpa’s been fucking about with for no discernible reason.

The Nazi Elf Illuminati are dropping some serious hints as to the direction in which this is going. I guess this is the part where Damon Lindelof lost interest, left to get something to eat, and ended up having a 40-minute discussion with the kid behind the counter at McDonalds about what he thought the food order would be.


TEOS: Sad Santa, despite his monologue about not being a detective anymore, has decided to detect, so he goes to the library and retrieves a book on mysticism. “In section 666,” the old librarian tells him, and when he responds, “C’mon, that has to be a joke,” she says NOTHING.

What a weirdo.

He flips around this book until he lands on a page that seems to contain both a Nazi symbol AND what could possibly be dinosaurs, so, for the second time while watching this film, I’m immediately envisioning a far better film about something entirely different.

Stop making me disappear inside my own imagination, Elves.


Nazi Dinosaurs: The Movie (dir. Timur Bekmambetov)

EMR: So, the girls have broken back into the department store where Kirsten works and there’s a hilarious comedy-of-errors thing going on with the piece of tape that was left on the edge of the back door to stop it from locking. Kirsten’s worried about “the guys” not being able to join her and the other girls, while Grizzly Adams is about to jimmy the door of its frame with a piece of scrap metal he finds by a dumpster. All the time this is going on, Kirsten’s friends are taking the tape off the door and Kirsten’s having to replace it…

I’ve got to hand it to you, Elves: I thought the only mirth I was going to extrapolate from this movie was the dialogue and the down-syndrome Jim Henson Muppet that’s passing for an elf, but you’ve shown me that I don’t always have to watch “Frasier” to get my yuck fix.
 

TEOS: I...honestly can’t tell if this thing is being retarded on purpose.

A sample of dialogue, if you will:


AMY
(wearing lingerie)
Hey Brook, check this out!

BROOK
What kind of slut dive-suit is that? No...way.

AMY
Way!

BROOK
No way!

AMY
Way!

BROOK
I said “no way!”

AMY
Whatever.

TEOS: I can’t believe this is how teenage girls are purported to talk and I can’t believe how hard I am right now.

EMR: Amy looks like my absolute nightmare in this scene: chicks with small tits and bad faces who want to dress up in Emma Frost Cosplay.

That’s not even a joke. I really fucking hate it.


Her mutant power is slut-dropping.

TEOS: Here’s a fun “guess we shoulda corrected that” error - pains are made to establish that both Sad Santa and these three morons have sneaked into the mall after hours, both for different reasons, but that the one doesn’t know the other is there. Then, Sad Santa peers over the railing at them, mutters to himself, and while he’s walking away, it cuts back to the point of view of the three morons putting on make-up, with him in the background, walking away with very loud, sharp footsteps...and none of the girls “hear” any of it.

EMR: So while the girls are putting on make-up and looking like they’re wearing the kind of clothes the Goodwill store would put in a garbage bag and set on fire in the centre of a salt pentagram, this dynamic exchange happens;

KIRSTEN
I’ve got a new name for us, by the way:
Masters Without Slaves.

BROOK
(Laughs sheepishly)

KIRSTEN
You don’t get it, do you?

BROOK
No.

EMR: Guess what, Kirsten: I don’t fucking get it either.

TEOS: This is a straaaange fucking film.

EMR: Strange because Brook thinks that Grizzly Adams being at the department store after-hours at the same time as them constitutes a “Mexican Stand-off,” or strange because when the girls are talking, they’re making less sense than your average cheese dream about a lactating nipple tree that fires geese at 12th Century Ottoman knights?

TEOS:

Because this film is about killer elves controlled by Nazis. Stupid idiot.

Oh, thank god - the bawdy boyfriends have arrived. Now the film can only get better.


EMR: They’re talking about banging Brook and how the other girls are just nasty or weird or whatever. I’d be offended at the disgusting display of chauvinism if I didn’t agree with them 100%.

TEOS: Okay, we’re forty minutes in and the elf quotient has been severely diminutive. What the fuck - this slather of diarrhea is called ELVES, so where are they?

Is it too late to watch something else? I feel like this film had a killer concept and is totally blowing it. But I also feel like I have to see this piece of shit through to the end to find out if the Nazis can save Christmas (which is my understanding of the plot). Fuck me, I haven’t been this conflicted since the time I watched Sixteen Candles and was reasonably certain I didn’t want to fuck Jake Ryan.


EMR: Have you ever noticed that while we’re watching these and pausing them every so often to insult them (something I like to apply to all walks of my life), you feel like you’ve been watching them for most of your life? Just like when I played too much Resident Evil 4 and thought, whilst walking to catch a bus, regular birds’ nests had coins and other such valuables in them, I keep watching other movies and wondering when Nazis are going to show up and blow Amy’s head off.

TEOS: I THINK Nazis just showed up, and I THINK they just blew Amy’s head off.

EMR: Oh. Okay.

TEOS: For once, the Nazis have done something to benefit us all.

EMR: All things considered, I'd rather them have blown off Brook's head, if only to release the tortured souls of all the My Little Pony's trapped inside.

TEOS: Whoa, first Nazis show up, and THEN the elves make an appearance? That can’t be a coincidence. Finally we’re getting somewhere. Now all we need is a bit more Nazi-ism, Indiana Jones, some John Williams music, a complete lack of everything else in Elves, and finally, for this film to be The Last Crusade, and then I’ll feel like paying attention.

EMR: Sadly, it’s a little bit more like Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, except more watchable.

That was predictable. I’m sorry.
 

TEOS: My turn. Shia Labeouf is a lot like the elf, only he’s the one getting raped.

Tonight’s Special Guest Star: Clint Howard!

TEOS: A Nazi just got into a shooting match with Santa, and while trying to shoot him, shot a Christmas tree instead. I can’t tell if this film is smart OR brilliant.

EMR: Santa’s ducking the shots and he’s behind a counter with Kier-stin while the Nazis shoot fuck into that tree. This looks like the abandoned factory shootout in Total Recall.



Ha! “Get Yule ass to Mars!”


TEOS: Nice! I hear that’s the plan!

Holy shit, Goebbels has made better films than this. Yeah, I know how that sounds. For being about Nazis AND elves, this film is neither stupid nor awesome enough.


EMR: It IS, however, eligible to stand trial at Nuremberg.

More dialogue gems, this time while Sad Santa and Kirsten are being shot at by Nazis:


SAD SANTA
Jesus Christ. Are these the guys you’ve been waiting for?

KIRSTEN
What?

SAD SANTA
Okay, you see those stairs over there…

EMR: I’m all for dialogue being the bridge between audience and rich, fully realised characters, but these lines are just too uncomfortable for me. This whole thing just feels so...so real.

TEOS: Man, first Amy gets killed by Nazis, and then Brook gets done in by the elf. What next, something ridiculous?

EMR: Oh, man! Not Brook! Me and three other guys were going to run a train on her later!
...

Huh! I’ve just done research on that expression and it turns out that it’s not technically a train unless there are 7 or more guys. So, me and those other three guys makes four guys, then we’ve got Santa and, I guess, Grandpa. Do...do you wanna get in on this?


TEOS: No, thank you. But I will beat off to it.

EMR: As a side note, that entire sequence, from when Brook starts getting chased by the Elf, to finally being murdered by the elf, is 100% THE stupidest fucking thing I have ever seen. It’s difficult to work out what exactly was the tipping point from “incompetent” to “disabled.”

TEOS: You know, you’re right about Sad Santa. He really is the only one in this film giving a damn. He’s treating this like he’s reciting works by the bard at Bell’s British Theatre.

EMR: All I want to see is the Sad Santa/Patrick Stewart performance of “Othello.”

Who goes “black face”?

You decide!


TEOS: Looks like both Sad Santa and Kirsten have lost their jobs due to this whole thing involving elves and dead teenage whores.

In a post-firing heart-to-heart, Kristen laments that her parents won’t care about her elf woes. “I care,” says Sad Santa. Then he adds: “Why not call me Mike?”

She responds, “I think I’d rather just call you Santa.”

Ouch. Mike wasn't just shut down, he was taken down so many pegs he has to look up to see ground. Sorry, buddy - there’s always suicide.


EMR: The first and only guy in existence to ever be “Santa-Zoned.”

Props, bro. I get dem feelz.

Kill me.
 

TEOS: I...think we just saw an elf force a sleeping girl to finger him in the mouth. Did you see that, too? And who the fuck was that doing the fingering? There were only three girl characters in this thing and two of them have already met their maker. What the fuck?

EMR: I think it was Brook, man. The only thing you need to worry about is that the elf has taken your place in The Train Gang.

Guess now we know what's in the Colonel's secret recipe.

TEOS: It’s off to the university for Mike Sad Santa, where he meets with a professor who knows an awful lot about elves. Apparently the origin of elves date back to the time of Noah’s Ark, where God’s order of saving all the animals and “all the creeping things” includes - you guessed it - elves. Sad Santa looks as surprised about this as I feel annoyed. But then the professor says the word “Nazis,” so now I care about stuff again.

EMR: I think all that stuff about “hard men, bad women, and the secret occult history of the United States transportation system” was just Nic Pizzolatto blowing smoke up everyone’s ass. THIS is what Season 2 of “True Detective” is really going to be about.

Actually, bad jokes aside, who the FUCK does this broad who’s just bumped into Mike think she is? Man, this film is messing with me. I’m not scared of the Elves or the Nazis. I don’t feel tense. I just feel really, really bad for Mike, and I hope that this Christmas, you’ll open your door for him if he should come knocking looking for a cup of coffee or a used cigarette end.

And this professor at the university is seriously creepy. He looks like Gerard Way didn’t lose the baby weight after fucking Nathan Lane and giving birth to Philip Seymour Hoffman. Plus a lesbian.


TEOS: So far, I’ve learned one thing from Elves: films about murderous elves can be pretty dull.

EMR: Yeah, as usual, I’ve pretty much given up. It’s a strange dichotomy: wanting to spend our valuable time and energy on this raw sewage, but wanting to do normal things like meeting people, or playing racquetball, or talking about “America’s Got Talent” like I care about the contestants. It’s just like my Mom never said to me: “Son, you don’t want to be living with dichotomies in your life,” and she’d have been right, had she ever said that. No one says things like that. Especially not my Mom.

TEOS: Oh, SHIT. Elves just went fucking Chinatown all over the establishment. No wonder Kirsten’s mother is a total bitch-hole: turns out Kirsten’s grandfather is ALSO her father! Surprise aside, I’m also confused, as it doesn’t look like Kristen and her family live anywhere remotely near Kentucky.


EMR: Why do you keep picking films with incest in them? What the hell is wrong with you? Why have I been finding my sister so attractive, recently?

TEOS: I am so in love with this doctor’s breakdown of the two potential histories of Elf Nazism that I can’t stand it. Theory one: elves - perfect soldiers - were used by Nazis as assassins because they can hide in small places and eat very little. Or, theory two: Nazi scientists worked to create an elf/human hybrid, which I guess IS the master race. That already sounds like a downgrade from just a regular human. They’d be shorter, more prone to blow away during a storm, probably a lot more annoying...but there WOULD be an uptick of magic.

Hmm...I guess I can see Hitler’s point.

In order for that to happen, well, this has to happen:

“The elf mates with the perfect virgin on Christmas Eve to produce the master race.”

Holy. Shit.

We finally have the life story of Peter Dinklage.


EMR: I’m pretty sure Sir Lawrence Olivier skipped over this during The World at War. And you know what? I’m pissed about that.

TEOS: "Fucking gross." That’s what hearing grandpa describe the process in which he fucked his own daughter makes me think: "fucking fucking fucking gross."

Although that adds another layer to this whole thing, and also makes me feel only slightly stupid: turns out grandpa’s a kraut, not a Jew. The only reason I don’t feel completely stupid is because this actor is really shitty.

With this new revelation, I guess this means he’s a former Nazi! I still feel a little embarrassed that I thought he was Jewish. Did you pick up on that when he spoke?


EMR: No man, I can never hear what a German is saying over the sound of him marching into Poland.

TEOS: Haha, oh man. The gods are going to take away our Internet card for that one.

Okay look: I confess. Right around the time that Sad Santa found the fucking dynamite in his car, I let the video keep playing while I went to refill my drink, take a leak, have a really awkward encounter with a fellow employee who asked me if I’d ever gotten shots to prevent shingles, then went back to my video to see some intense strobe-lighting and Sad Santa saying, “We gotta get out of here - the elf’s here.”

I missed so much, and at the same time, absolutely nothing.


"Heh heh, I can't WAIT to blow all these guys."

EMR: The only thing you really missed was Kirsten’s Cunt Mom running a bath for herself, but putting lipstick on before stepping into the tub. She thinks she’s so fucking high and mighty, but what kind of an imbecile puts lipstick on JUST before they get in the bath? The last time I saw a movie where a woman did that, I was filming it.

You also missed Sad Santa punching one of the Nazis so hard that his teeth turned into tooth paste. No wonder he was thrown off the force.


TEOS: I take it back. EVERYONE in this film is taking it way too seriously, not just Sad Santa. I think the only people who knew this thing was actually a comedy was the audience.

EMR:  No, man, no; this is deadly serious. If Kirsten is the product of unholy union between Tom Sizemore and Helen Mirren menopause, who the fuck is the father of Kirsten’s brother? He’s a creepy little son of a bitch, too, because he’s just told Sad Santa not to break the torch that he’s handed to him. Why the fuck would he say something like that to a stranger?

TEOS: Haha, ohhhh….I was wrong. According to Nazi math, elf + human ≠ elfman. Elf + human = the antichrist. How come YOU didn’t know that?

EMR: DON’T make me cry at Christmas. You still haven’t forgiven me for Zombie Lake back in June, have you?

There’s something about Grandpa’s explanation that makes it so...matter of fact. It’s not just Nazi Elves, it’s the anti-christ.

Shit, okay. If you say so.

For whatever reason, Grandpa’s pulled open the book that has the anti-Christmas Nymph in it and now he’s drawing swastika’s on her tits like there was a pattern there that we never saw before. You’re literally just drawing swastikas on her tits, man. You’re not Frank Miller. You’re a crazy old asshole in a wheel-chair who fucked his own daughter to bring about the end of days…

Actually, that's Frank Miller.


TEOS: I swear, there’s only been "twenty minutes" left in the running time for what’s felt like the last twelve days of Christmas.

EMR: Maybe when this is done, me and you can do something for Twelfth Night. It's a Pagan thing, so it's completely acceptable for me to pack your asshole with Jif and call you Grand Master Meatspurt.

TEOS: aka Tuesday.

“What is that, a stone?” Sad Santa asks while looking at...a stone.

“It’s an elf stone!” replies crabby grandpa.

You know, let’s all agree that everything in Elves world should just be preceded by the word “elf” now, okay? Things will go a lot faster.

“Wanna order some elf pizza?”  “Hold the elf anchovies!”  “I hope they send that hot elf delivery kid!”  “I think I need to have an elf abortion.”


I could keep going, but this is a terrible joke.

EMR: This fucking doesn't deserve better jokes. We're giving it Bill Hicks when all it really deserves is Denis Leary.

TEOS: Why do these old Nazis keep professing their love to Kirsten? And why does this one Nazi in the trench-coat, when he says “Calm down! Calm down!” sound exactly like Arnold Schwarzenegger? Why isn’t Arnold Schwarzenegger IN something like this when he’s already done Jingle All the Way to us? Why aren't we just watching Arnold Schwarzenegger right now?

Hey, who are you?


EMR: Watching him in his hey-day or watching him slowly losing his mind on social media? Hey, you know what I'm calling the new Terminator movie? Terminator: Genital Cyst.

TEOS: Do you think when the director was shooting this piece of shit, he said, “I don’t want the audience to see a fucking thing"?

EMR: Only if the audience's psychic torment wasn't the only way he could sustain an erection long enough to fuck his wife, yes.

TEOS: I think Kirsten just said, “I can feel the elf inside me.” Dear god, I am so hard right now.

EMR: That's replaced "Avengers Assemble!" as my ejaculation cry, from now on. Now all I need is a girlfriend...

TEOS: Shit, someone sent me a video of some dude being run over by a subway train and I missed the whole ending to Elves. What happened?

EMR: Was it the subway train bomb scene from Die Hard With a Vengeance? Because, let me tell you, that film IS the bomb. I often think, and we've spoken about this before, that if Fox must insist on making new Die Hard movies, give the next one to McTiernan. Bring the franchise home, y'know? As fans and appreciators of that man's work, we need to get the bad taste of Rollerball out of our mouths. Everyone always goes on about the law of diminishing returns; DHWAV, in my opinion, holds its own against the original. And the original is the best Christmas movie ever made. You know what? I'm gonna go and put those movies on right now. Are we done here? Has this film finished?

TEOS: It must be. I'm watching Exit Wounds now. Yeah, with Seagal.

EMR: Merry Christmas, I guess.

October 12, 2014

HACK-O-LANTERN


The End of Summer (TEOS): Halloween is in the air again. It will be here before we know it. During this time of year, like-minded folks will be kicking back with a pumpkin beer and watching one of their perennial favorites. John Carpenter’s Halloween. New minor classic Trick-R-Treat, perhaps. But around the Two Guys offices, we don’t take it easy. We suffer. We OPT to suffer. And we do it for you bungholes.

Helping us suffer is 1988’s oddball offering Hack-O-Lantern (aka Halloween Night) (aka Direct A Remake Of The Omen? Why, All Right: The Sad Story of John Moore).

Exploitation Movie Review (EMR): Wait a fucking second: does that say ‘From the director of Night Eyes?’ I can’t believe I’m watching a movie from the same guy who directed Night Eyes! That’s…

Fuck, man I’m already too depressed to know how to finish this sarcastic joke. I will say this, though: I’ve got a perfectly serviceable pair of earphones plugged into this computer of mine and the sound is only coming through one ear piece, so...that’s just terrific.

TEOS: Night Eyes sounds like it should star Shannon Tweed and Marc Singer. My own imagination has left me intrigued by a movie I just made up. And a little bonered.

EMR: I got excited during the opening credits because I misread who’d written the story as ‘Buford Pusser’ and then the reality of the situation dawned on me that I wasn’t watching Walking Tall and that even six-year-old Halloween candies can’t put me into a deep enough diabetic coma to make everything better.

TEOS: After the opening credits, in which the greatest name ever given is revealed (director Jag Mundhra), we meet a young precocious boy named Tommy and his non-grandfather looking grandfather, who embodies the end result of Robert Blake and Stacy Keach fucking so hard they gave birth to their version of A.C. Slater and then tossed him under a leaky train carrying estrogen. Tommy picks off a pumpkin from Creepy Grandpa’s creepy truck and heads back inside, where he promptly cuts his fucking finger open while carving a jack-o-lantern, sucks the blood from the wound, and declares, “I like the taste of blood! Grandpa says it’s good for me!”

The last time I had a finger that bloody, I didn’t finish the joke out of decency.

EMR: I don’t like all the mail order ‘gothic’ jewelry Grandpa’s wearing, I don’t like that he sounds like Gary Busey making an obscene phone call, and I don’t like his dyed-black hair, either. This movie isn’t going to great lengths to convince me he isn’t up to something. At this stage it’s 50/50 as to whether he’s into some freaky satanic cult shit or he’s starting the first Conway Twitty/The Cure crossover band.

TEOS: Have you seen that Amazon Fire TV commercial with Gary Busey? If so, have you seen his weird face? If so, have you wondered at what point the left side of his voice began Quasimodoing to such an extent that it’s often found stuffed into the fifth pocket of his Dickie overalls?

EMR: Wait just a second, I’ll look this up on YouTube. To be honest, any distraction at this point is welcome…

Ok, it’s playing...

Oh, what the fu–

TEOS: Grandpa’s daughter, Mom, really doesn’t seem too fond of her father. Maybe it’s because he really is as fucking deranged as he CLEARLY is, yet which goes entirely unnoticed by pretty much everyone else. 

Tommy’s dad goes to see Grandpa and warns him about never coming ‘round again. Dad ends up hammered and fired for his trouble, and I DON’T mean he got drunk and lost his job. 

Also, it’s clear Grandpa is wearing a really bad wig, betraying the “secret” that this is all taking place in the past. I can’t wait to see what happens next!

Bill slept soundly, knowing his sex doll would be up
all night to protect him from monsters.

EMR: Now, I’m not one to stereotype, but I’m thinking that Dad might have a secret of his own. The cruel, unforgiving way of life in the south may have stifled everything about his homosexuality, but the one thing Dad was never prepared to do was compromise on the fact that he sounds like Richard Simmons having a domestic dispute with a slice of cheesecake.  

TEOS: Okay, so: scale of 1-10, with 10 being you’d put this on your iPod immediately, and 1 being you’d put it on your iPod immediately during the next commercial break: what do you think of the soundtrack so far? Pretty sweet, right?

EMR: The majority of it sounds like abandoned incidental music from “Are You Afraid Of The Dark,” so...6?

I feel that I should probably comment on the high camp factor of all of the male leads in this movie. We’ve already discussed Dad, who sounded like he couldn't effectively scold his boyfriend's chihuahua for shitting on their collection of muscle magazines, and now Grandpa, who seemed like a surly, beer-swillin’, tobacco-chewin’, blue-collar kinda guy, but who's just gone through this entire cult meeting scene like a scoutmaster who wears his shorts two sizes too small and insists that all the kids snuggle up to him to keep warm on camping trips.

TEOS: I’d make some snooty remark about the filmmaker’s intent to heighten the intelligence, cunning, and strength of its female populace by presenting the men as weak, useless, and altogether unreliable, but then I would remember two things: this movie is called Hack-O-Lantern, and the only relevant thing it has to say about women is, “Okay, so in this scene, your vagina is prominently on display for about ten Mississippi seconds.”

EMR: Haha. Empowerment.

TEOS: It’s, what, thirteen years later? Tommy still lives on the farm, Grandpa is still fucking nuts and delivering pumpkins on Halloween, and Tommy’s mother is still terrified of her father. Has no one in this family hoped for something more over the last decade+? And does the amount of pumpkins in Grandpa’s truck ever diminish?

EMR: Even worse than that: Grandpa is STILL giving off that predatory paedophile vibe, like he discovered something about himself that he could never return from after that night of occult celebration and Dad-hammering goodness.

He’s given Tommy another gift and this time it’s a Satanic worship cowl. Tommy’s probably just happy that it’s not another dildo wrapped in a cut-off shirt with a note attached to it that says, ‘Wear this...and then put on the shirt.’

Tommy's mother doesn't appreciate this impromptu visit, so she immediately teleports in front of Grandpa's pick-up after it's traveled half a mile down the road at high speed.

‘I ain’t payin’ no 50 cents for no coke.’

TEOS: “Hello, my lovely offspring,” Grandpa just said to his daughter. Haha, that’s so gross.

Yuck, speaking of gross: we’re barely ten minutes in and already...incest. And not even hot incest, like Angelina Jolie and her brother. I mean Hack-O-Lantern incest, starring this weird grandfather and his daughter-wife.

EMR: Yeah, it’s pretty bad, but I’m on a shared computer here, so it’s the only thing I’ll be jacking off to tonight if I don’t want to run the risk of arousing suspicion.

TEOS: Weird, is that what people do with bathrobes? They get right out of their soapy tub and put a bathrobe on without toweling off? That makes me itchy just watching someone do it. 

What an idiot.

EMR: I don’t get it, either. It inspires the same level of anger in me as someone taking two tokes on a cigarette and then stubbing it out, or sex scenes where the passion isn’t cut short by the guy having to work out which way round the condom goes.

TEOS: The acting in this movie, man. It’s...well, god, do we even have to say it anymore? Isn’t it just implied at this point? The acting in this thing has been so fucking absurdly rancid that people who don’t even exist are embarrassed for everyone involved with this thing.

EMR: Yeah, I’m finding Grandpa's histrionics a little difficult to swallow. He laughs badly and for too long. I wanted him to still be laughing as he sped away from the farm in his new pick-up truck, but that would have been intentional comedy, and this film has about as much self-awareness as Helen Keller playing Buckaroo. I also think he may be a drag artist.

TEOS: ROCK-ON! I miss the ‘80s for this reason: random musical interludes filled with leather, too much hair, and quick zoom-ins. As a bonus, this scene features Missandei from “Game of Thrones,” and as we all know, I’m a big, big fan of hers. Big, and growing bigger at this very second. She even...gives head? 

“Now you are unsullied.”

EMR: I’m all for getting boners over hot chicks and, as you know, I’m all for talking about jerking off, but when you put it so...aggressively...

TEOS: The terrorists win.

EMR: So, that entire ‘metal band’ scene played out in his head? It seems to me like the band are giving us major plot spoilers with this song ‘The Devil’s Son,’ like 50 Cent did in Get Rich, Or Die Tryin’ with his hit record ‘Haha, you fucking chumps have actually paid to see this movie.’ And another thing: for a kid who I can only assume has had the bare minimum of exposure to the outside world, and who lives very sparsely, I’m amazed he has the capacity for imagination to create a metal band in his head who wear enough leather to make even Judas Priest say, ‘Shit, that’s a lot of fuckin’ leather.’

I’m also going to assume that an actual band was hired to write this fucking garbage. How pissed would you be at being paid in stale Cheeto’s for your contribution? This film is so bad that they couldn’t even get Nikki Sixx to agree to let them use ‘Shout at the Devil’ on the soundtrack? In 1988, Nikki Sixx would have let you use his unconscious body as a coffee table if it meant you’d come over and hold his eyelids open while he mainlined heroin into the most prominent vein he could find on his dick.

TEOS: C’mon, seriously - what do you think of my pick so far? Pretty sweet, right?

EMR: I feel like you're trying to make me hate Halloween. I also feel like you're trying to tell me that it's my fault that my mother's gynaecologist didn't lose his job when he talked himself out of sealing her vagina with a binding spell.

TEOS: Speaking of mothers, we meet Mom’s third kid, who also appears normal, so it looks like Tommy happens to be the only dud. One out of three = not bad for God’s America. He’s some kind of deputy with that typically irritating “aww-shucks” personality that you want to excise as skillfully as one could with a soldering iron and a couple of mouse traps. I haven’t been this instantly angry since the last time I saw a photo of Lars Von Trier.

EMR: Lars Von Trier? What a pompous cunt.

TEOS: One time I saw a Lars Von Trier film and it wasn’t a total waste of everything.

Just kidding.

EMR: So, here we got Billy Idol...and she’s buying some booze for a home brew or something. All the town’s male population are thinking they’d love to give her a ‘White Wedding,’ but they’ll probably have to just stick to ‘Dancing With Themselves.’

Masturbation.

TEOS: LOL.

C’mon, seriously - what do you think of the acting so far? Pretty sweet, right?

EMR: *sigh* I think I've made my feelings quite clear already. If not, I'll mail your mom a picture of my dick and tell her to make a start without me.

TEOS: (Photo thumbnail joke.)

I find it amusing that, at this point, we know Grandpa is into some Satanic shit, he wants Tommy for some kind of Satanic ritual, and it’s all pretty bad news-ish, but he’s also pretty concerned that Tommy might be spending time with a girl of whom he doesn’t approve. That’s like swabbing the wrist of the guy on death row you’re about to execute with rubbing alcohol before you give him the potassium barbiturate. What do you care, Grandpa? Didn’t you rape your own daughter on her wedding day?

EMR: No, no, no come on, now. He didn't rape her on her wedding day, he tried to rape her on her wedding day. Two entirely different things in the eyes of the law. Y'know how like on "To Catch a Predator" they basically a corner a guy into admitting he's trying to bang under-age girls when he's not actually trying to bang under-age girls; he's just sending them messages telling them that he wants to treat them nice? MASSIVELY different to, say, being Cameron Thor offering acting classes.

A rare public sighting of Albert Einstein.

EMR: Anyway, Grandpa’s pissed because he wants Tommy to be ‘pure’ for the ceremony? I assume that means there’s a strict ‘no banging’ policy in effect? Wouldn’t Satan love that? Some banging? Wouldn’t Satan love to be summoned from the depths to be greeted with punch and a floor show? You’re a fucking idiot, Grandpa.

TEOS: Yeah, he really is laying on the whole “no debauchery” thing pretty thick. He really should have just gone full-Burgess Meredith and said “no fuckin’, Tommy, ya fuckin’ mook!” in that awful Mickey voice. Then Tommy could have starred in his own burgeoning Satanist franchise that would take five films until it was good again. Assuming that Hack-O-Lantern would be, of course, considered good. Which it ain’t. Was never. Won’t ever. The end.

EMR: "You're a big, greezy, bumpkin tank! Go to 'im! Run over 'im!"

Ha! Sa-tank-ic...

TEOS: Ah. Don’t you just love teenagers? Don’t you just love teenagers in horror films? Well, I don’t. Of course I don’t. What the fuck’s the matter with you, anyway? Next thing I know you’ll be telling me to watch Melancholia with you and hold your hand, and when it’s done, you can tell me what it was really about.

EMR: I heard it was about Kirsten Dunst's tits. Is that right? Is that what it's about? Kirsten Dunst's tits? I don't think her face is as weird as everyone says it is, man. If I woke up next to Kirsten Dunst tomorrow morning, I'd be pretty happy. Actually, if I woke up next to Kirsten Dunst tomorrow, I'd probably think I was Tobey Maguire and I'd finally snapped and killed her in her sleep.

TEOS: Tits? I don’t recall. I do remember her pissing on the ninth hole at her wedding reception and then fucking someone not her husband. Maybe I’m thinking of Mona Lisa Smile

EMR: No, no, you’ve got it all fucked up. You’re thinking of Overboard.

Shit. Tommy’s sister has posters of cats in her room. One misspent night of passion with this crazy bitch and you’re waking up to her practising how to sign her name with YOUR surname. Haha, I’m not even listening to your asinine dialogue in this scene, you dumb broad. Shut up.

TEOS: This movie is...bizarre. So...Tommy is just publicly insane? He’s not trying to hide it? He doesn’t care who knows? And isn’t it dangerous to keep lighted candles inside a closet under the steps?

EMR: Oh, he’s a fucking asshole. What kind of self respecting teenager only shouts that he wants to be left alone so he can worship Satan and lift? Why can’t he be jerking off like any normal male adolescent? 

I’ve been thinking; ever since we did that review for the Goldblum-a-thon, we’ve been cracking A LOT more jacking-off jokes, and by ‘we’ve’ I mean ‘I’ve.’ Should I be worried? Should I just hope that if I ignore it, it goes away? The boner, I mean.

Haha, Dad’s gravestone is pretty funny. It’s all written in ‘Txt Spk’

Here lies Willm Drindl
Tkn frm us 1968
Lolz <3

TEOS: I have noticed an uptick in all the masturbatory stuff. But I try to keep really quiet when I’m outside in the bushes and looking in through your window.

Uh oh. I’ve really gotten off track here. I better get back to the movie!

Huh. I would’ve guessed Billy Idol had bigger tits than that.

Oh. Right.

EMR: Let’s be fair, that pool looks cold. And dirty. Man, the parasites that must be swimming up her birth canal right now...how the hell they’re going to find the room to gestate when she has all that pizza dough in her ass, I don’t know.

TEOS: Plot twist. That pervert from Manos: The Hands of Fate is the killer. I know it’s him because the boredom feels quite familiar. RIP, Billy Idol.

EMR: Yeah, take your pick whether you'd prefer a 'Flesh For Fantasy' or 'Eyes Without a Face' joke here. In fact, email us your suggestions. Hey, if Damon Lindelof can get paid for writing half a story, I should at least be allowed to write half an article for free.
"I'm goin' in the butt, Julie. Deal with it."

TEOS: Man, Grandpa sounds more like George “Buck” Flower than George “Buck” Flower does. If John Carpenter ever makes Character Actors I’ve Hired Thirty-Seven Times, he can hire this guy to do the audio-looping.

EMR: Has Grandpa been dubbed by three different people in this movie? It’s interesting to me that he puts on this masculine tone around all the female members of his family but can’t wait to get back to sounding like Maury Povich trying to negotiate a hotdog out of John Travolta’s asshole when he’s around all the guys.

This fucking Brian guy who’s going out with Mom’s daughter is an oily little prick. He’s already managed to offend one member of his girlfriend’s family when he squared up to Grandpa, now he’s telling Mom’s other son, the Sheriff’s deputy no less, that Grandpa was a freaky bastard who creeped him out. That’s like me telling my girlfriend that her sister stayed over just long enough for me to be able to choke myself with one of her make-up sponges.

TEOS: C’mon, seriously - what do you think about the level of fury this film is causing you? Pretty sweet, right?

EMR: Fine! You've made your fucking point, I'll send you the 68 cents I owe you.

TEOS: God, the music in this sounds like the outtakes from a “Doogie Howser” scoring session. Not only is it just terrible in general, but it’s completely out of tone. What’s the point of showing us whimsy and crepe paper and Opie-like smiles when we know Tommy’s out of his fucking mind, his grandfather’s a rapist scumbag psycho, a lot of people are likely to die, and whatever Halloween ceremony soon to come is really going to ruin the party for everyone on Planet Earth?

EMR: Pretty fucking retarded, right?
Daughter: “So, what d’ya think of Beth?”
Sheriff Son: “Awh, shucks, I dunno. I’ve only just met her”
Daughter: “You should talk to her, tonight. Just say ‘hello’ and see where it goes!”
Sheriff Son: “Gee, I guess you’re right, sis. Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you, Tommy’s a candle-burning devil-worshipper who’s a roll of shrink-wrap away from looking like he lives in Ted Bundy’s garage.”
Also, no crash helmet for Beth? You’re just flouting the law aren’t you, meathead? I say to make things fair, neither of them should wear the helmet and we’ll see whether the contents of a can of hairspray or 10 pounds of fresh chum holds up better in a traffic accident.

TEOS: Is this a Godfrey Ho film? Because it’s starting to feel like two pieces of shit face-smashed into one: a somewhat intriguing film about a whiskey-voiced, daughter-fucking, satanic Grandpa, and some generic bullshit about someone wearing a costume and taking out horny horn balls one by one. Maybe Richard Harrison will show up in a ninja costume, cut a pumpkin into five perfectly equal shapes, and look really, really proud of himself.

EMR: What would his Urban Ninja get-up look like? I don’t know what diminished responsibility and incest would look like on a colour chart.

Tommy’s going out of his way to make sure everyone stays pure for tonight’s festivities because his sister is busy getting her bang on with her boyfriend when Tommy bursts in and throws him out.

TEOS: Ha! Hands down my favorite part: the guy falling into an open grave, discovering a (clearly prop) skull, holding it up to his own face, and SCARING HIMSELF WITH IT. It’s a pretty short-lived moment because a shovel swoops in and separates the guy’s entire head like an asscrack, but, I’m glad it happened.

EMR: That’s got to be the worst day imaginable. Hobbling home with blue balls after being thrown out of your girlfriend’s house by a guy who looks like someone got drunk and decided to paint what they thought the concept of repressed homosexuality would look like, and then getting your head separated like a Pinata. Tough break, kid.


TEOS: Well, the cult has finally met. “Fucking” finally, I should’ve said. And these guys know how to celebrate Halloween. They’ve got the red and black robes, goblets of blood, candles, and “The Monster Mash” on repeat. Now they only need to play The Witch’s Dead Body, touch some spaghetti, giggle like a bunch of jerk-offs, and then go home and cry as their older brothers eat all the Butterfingers.

EMR: I’m no expert on Satanic rites and rituals, but branding an ‘80s-attractive girl’s ass with a hot iron while she grips onto part of a sex-swing hardly seems legit. I’d put money on there not being a single unattractive female member of this cult.

“Yeah, you’ve got to wear the elbow-length gloves or else Satan won’t think you mean it. Oh, and work on your tan lines. For Satan.”

TEOS: This scene is making me feel nostalgic about that one time I, too, was making out with a girl in a cemetery, doing a bunch of unromantic close-mouthed kissing, squeezing piles of dirt with both hands in ecstasy, and it was fucking freezing.

EMR: Equally as bad as that story: kids in a graveyard who at first appear to be up to no good, are just picking up the candy that they’ve dropped. That they’ve DROPPED. In a GRAVEYARD.

“Awh, Scotty you got a TOOTH mixed in with your Milk Duds! AWESOME!”

Now we’re at the town Halloween party and man does it look shit. I’m almost hoping this movie suddenly introduces a B-Plot where one of the guests develops telekinetic powers and sets fire to everyone. There’s one unimaginative asshole who’s come to a Halloween party in the deep south, dressed as a cowboy. Boy, I sure hope his old man doesn’t mind his outfit being used for something other than for fucking his sister.

TEOS: Did that guy just say his favorite part of strippers was “the naked part”? 

On second thought...that’s about right. 

Hack-O-Lantern as remastered by Shout Factory.

So, all right. This guy is just going to randomly bust into some kind of improv stand-up comedy routine. It’s not only completely inappropriate, it’s entirely awkward and spawned from exactly nowhere. Is...that someone we should recognize or something? Some kind of Andrew Dice Clay-like obscurity in the ‘80s whose biggest claim to fame was probably having a “bad stomach pains” scene on a toilet?

EMR: This guy’s impromptu stand up set is so painfully fucking bad that it’s making me wish the pick-up truck that killed Sam Kinison had made an extra stop.

TEOS: I haven’t seen so much nothing happening in a film since earlier this evening when I was trying to watch this nonsense and the video kept failing to load.

EMR: Daughter and Beth have made a quick stop at the graveyard to check out where Sheriff son gave Beth his long cock of the law, and if that arrangement isn’t fucked up enough for you (“Look! That’s where your brother asked me if I knew what a ‘Nestle Knockout’ is!”), Daughter finds her boyfriend’s body buried inconspicuously under a 3ft high mound of earth.

That’ll teach you to wear fur, you bitch.

Daughter has burst in on the satanic ritual, and without batting an eyelid at the black magic Okey Cokey that’s going on around her, confronts Tommy about murdering her boyfriend.

TEOS: Oh, what bullshit. Tommy has spent this entire movie making bug-eyed angry faces and screaming at everyone, but now he’s going to defy his Grandpa and try to save his sister’s life? I call bullshit on you, Hack-O-Lantern.

Pictured: Larry The Cable Guy's wedding night, minus goats.

EMR: Haha, why’s Grandpa talking like fucking Skeletor or whatever? Must be something about rituals and acts of supreme evil. GOD, I hope I get that same chance some day...

TEOS: Huh. So...even though Tommy’s booked it from the evil barn of Satanism, turns out Grandpa can still go on with the ritual, anyway.

Talk about a real blow to Tommy’s self-esteem. After all the exclamations of this night being “his night,” this idea of “Oh, we can actually do this without you” is potentially pretty hurtful, and right now I’m concerned solely about Tommy’s confidence. No one likes feeling insignificant to a satanist cult.

EMR: We’re back at the Halloween party and they’ve got...Courtney Love to do some snake charming? I’m curious: was ‘Fuck the Air’ a dance back in the eighties? This guy’s going for it all slow and sensual. Same guy who had the stripper’s panties in his face earlier on. He’s super-charged and ready for maximum sensuosity.

TEOS: Okay, I’ll give this one to ya, Hack-O-Lantern: really digging the kill method of overtightening a girl’s girdle costume until her tits pop out, and then stabbing her in the back to finish her off. Bravo. (Slow Homer clap.)

EMR: The film-maker’s committed to that death with less sensitivity than a Lucio Fulci murder in New York Ripper. I also wasn’t sure what the fuck that woman was doing there, seeing as though she was clearly 20 years older than everyone else.

TEOS: Considering the body count in this thing is pretty decent, I’m amazed that it can all still be so fucking boring. Why hasn’t this title been announced for a remake? This movie, Hack-O-Lantern? Perhaps it could be redone with an all-black cast. And it could be retitled Bla

Got you. I was actually going to suggest The Persnickety Perversion of Mercedes Davenport

EMR: We’re back at the Halloween party. Grandpa’s been stabbed and for the briefest moment, Hack-O-Lantern has become Scaramouche.

TEOS: Jesus Christ, hurry up, Hack-O-Lantern. I still need to Google sexy GIFs and beat off into a sock just so this night isn’t a total waste.

EMR: You should have just joined me in jerking off to the wedding day rape. Not literally. Best case scenario: the Synchro-Fap will result in at least one of us being gay.

TEOS: Turns out Tommy’s mom is the killer. And her motive is being really, really sad. And no, fuck you, Tommy. Again, it’s too late to be human. You sucked ass this whole movie; you can’t be all sad now that your mom killed all your friends and then died of a gunshot wound. That’s the kind of stuff that happens in Detroit.

EMR: Old or New Detroit? Have they built that fucking place yet? I looked over a scale model of that once before some asshole called Kenny bled all over it.

TEOS: Oh, shit! Twist ending cut to black and ROCK ‘N ROLL! 

Thank you to everyone who had a hand in giving us Hack-O-Lantern. That more than includes the Second Assistant Photographer…

Wait for it…

Gay Norris.

Gay! 

I will laugh at this!

EMR: ...I may not be back in November.

Corpse Doll Tit: The Final Conflict