Hectic Knife (2016) Review by RevTerry

I wonder if everyone suffers from burnout. It's easy to see it happening, from a point of view like mine, having worked shit jobs for most of my short and quickly fleeting life. But what about those dream jobs? Could it possibly be the same story for occupations like ice cream taster- if you like ice cream, or waterslide tester-if you like waterslides, politician- if you like… talking about being a politician a lot? Do these things grow weary or do you just reflect on the fact that you could be flipping burgers instead, suck it up and go back eating ice cream, riding water slides or snorting lines of narcotics off of a dead hookers ass? What about the person that just holds the silver reflective thing for lighting in porn films; Do they get sick of shining light on pornstar booties and illuminating dangle units? From what I understand, the experts say they would. The going theory is that burnout is a natural part of life due to repetitive action and a need for validation(etc..), but of course that could just be a lie made to keep us shitty job holders in line. I guess I really can't say. For example: Although being a psychotic, duel-knife wielding, vigilant in a monochrome world of exposition and crime would sound like a pretty sweet gig when first presented, I could see the realization of such a vocation getting to you after awhile. Well, maybe, I may never truly know for sure, but luckily that is the subject of Greg DeLiso’s 2016 film, Hectic Knife.
Meet Hectic Knife (Peter Litvin). He is the lone force of good in his crime ridden city, where he doles out justice using his two knives and a frantic style. Unfortunately, as of late, he has lost his passion for the work, is feeling fatigued and is giving a lackluster performance on the job. To make matters worse, he has fallen behind in his bills and is forced to take a strange,(even for this films reality), roommate named Link(John Munnelly). He only has only his two “best” friends to confide in, Harry(Richard Kohn), a seemingly retired vigilante like himself, and Rockin Ray(...Rockin Ray),a spirited but ineffective undercover cop. They both do their best to get his head back in the game, but nothing seems to work. Hectic's performance continues to decline, until after one particularly uninspired battle with some thugs, who were engaged in some committed but repetitive discussion on “orange pills” (or maybe orange peels?), he finds on their person a card referring to Piggly Doctor(J.J. Brine), a evil “baddie” intent on getting the world addicted to “the drugs”. This starts Hectic down a path that will change everything. A fateful journey which includes reuniting with, then morning, estranged family members, on the fly heart transplants, as well as limb regeneration, toxic relationships and lots of unneeded exposition.
The film is filled with silly black humor that purposely falls flat. The bulk of conversations are characters describing what is going on as your watching it and long dead, running gags. It's a mix of what you may call “tromaesque” and the more currently used irreverent, comedy styles. I can't always hang with some of the internet kids “random” humor, but this steers away from hitting this nerve with a more grimy feel and more classical comedy influences. Lines are dry or misfired and characters under played, but it's perfectly difficult to pick out when it's by design or not. It's probably a fun mix of both. Scenes go on past their purpose, into faux candid moments, where the participants seem to leave character and riff off of each other (mostly unsuccessfully). Sometimes you get the feeling certain gags might be inside jokes, and maybe you are being left out, but thats all part of its style. It's a parody of “hero” flicks but for a post dark night world, in which even Superman is a brooding killer who doesn't know if he's on the right path. Think Sin City in the key of Nacho Libre (2006) with a hint of something like Tom Goes to the Mayor (2004-2006). Where The Toxic Avenger (1984) lampooned the valiant heroes and corny one liners of the Stan Lee (appropriated) era with trash cinema sensibilities, Hectic Knife plays off the disjointed series of emotional moments that make up our current pseudo-poetic Hollywood vigilantes. The story is a self referring, bare bones, allusion to the cliche dark hero drama. Our evil villain forces people to become addicted to “the drug”, the antagonist suffers death and betrayal; it covers all the genre basics, telegraphing every event with cliff notes, just in case you didn't get it. It doesn't have a fourth wall, like..at all. It’s completely self aware. There is less plot then there are references to the lack of plot. It's that kind of flick, and it doesn't pull any punches when it comes to the authenticity of its “mistakes” for comedic effect.
The film wears it's low budget as a fashion statement. A black and white filter (almost) throughout, not only serves to give it that Frank Miller feel but is also intentionally an obvious mask for the restraints in resources. Stylized frugal techniques include lots of chocolate syrup blood, which is always fun, and the redressing of sets. There is plenty of goofy gore, bad wigs, and the special effects are the tops when it comes to regaining a limb. The props probably got the most laughs out of me, rubber knives litter the floors, and our hero comes home to a stack of blank envelopes with “Bills” written on them. A Lot of the camera work is exaggerated, plays with position, and at moments has some very inspired cuts. Sometimes the angles blend with the washed out monochrome to remind me of 90s art film. There is no nudity, but there is something extremely attractive about the bad guys sidekick, Porch (played by Traci Ann Wolfe and I'm pretty sure it's the eyepatch). Despite it's willfully unsound style, each scene has a lot of love in every aspect of production and plenty of fun details to pick out of the awkward mess. 
Peter Litvin is our anti hero in the flowing wig and co-writer on the film (with director Greg DeLiso). He is also listed as working on the soundtrack (along with Dale Flood and Ronnie Kalimon), which is definitely one of my favorite aspects of the experiment. It's not hard to find something with music influenced by VHS trash lately (thanks Stranger Things), but they never get it all the way right. They fucking get pretty damn close here in its more synthy moments, and it has a far more authentic feel if only for its cash strapped development. Plus, as a bonus, there is a musical number sung by the odd roommate, complete with more excessive exposition, that I thought was pretty great. Everyone seems to be having a good time making the film and is in on the joke. For stand out performances I have to go with Traci Ann Wolfe as Piggy Doctors right hand woman, not only was the eyepatch extremely hot, but her over-acting was perfect. Bring on Hectic Knife 2 : The Rise of Porch (you don't have to call it that, but I'm glad she lived to fight again).
Hectic Knife is a manic but loving jab at a lot of people, including the audience. It's definitely got some great trashy soul to it, and I enjoyed the fuck out of it, but it's one for “certain” crowds. Probably not the film to use as an intro to these types of things, unless your mainstream homie is a fan of live action adult swim or something. Greg DeLiso has made great use of a budget, with an influenced but unique style. I may never know if water slide tester, porn set shiny- thing- holders or politicians suffer from burnout, but the next time I'm feeling down on my mundane, annoying routine, I can remember how lucky I am not to be the lone good guy in a monochrome world, full of crime, “The Drugs” and constant oversharers. At least my reality is in color.

 Director: Greg DeLiso
Writers: Greg DeLiso, Peter Litvin 


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X-Ray aka Hospital Massacre (1981) Review by RevTerry

I know they exist, but it's hard for me to imagine a person who enjoys a visit to the doctor. A trip to a medical professional puts a person face to face with things like debt and their own mortality, the things we spend most of our time avoiding. Hospitals invoke images of fleshy incisions, sharp objects and the spread of disease, the real-life horror shit. Understandably that can make people uneasy. Personally, my issues with healthcare are more related to spending time in lines or lobbies, trusting strangers and giving people shit loads of money. The whole process is awkward, dehumanizing and full of fake smiles. It's an experience that, other then the smells and chance that you might be forced to get naked, feels like the equivalent to buying a car while getting one fixed at the same time, a bullshit adventure made up of a series of forms, dire news, waiting rooms and fees. It may be that I am paranoid, but I feel like I'm getting scammed or not told the whole picture no matter what I'm there for. Whether it's the actual practice or the process (or the politics), healthcare fucking sucks. Movie-wise, it's usually the practice that gets the horror treatment. Dread goes well with sharp, pokie shit and operating tables, while expressing the terror of bureaucracy on film can be tricky and mostly confined to the “drama” genre. A strange exception- X-Ray (aka Hospital Massacre 1981), kind of stumbles its way through both.
The film starts off with some kids playing with a train set in 1961. Another child comes along to do some creeping and leaves one of them, Susan, a valentines day card. As he watches from the window Susan crumbles the love letter up, and the two take a break from watching a train go around in circles to mock the notion of his affection. This pisses the boy outside off, so he waits for the girl to leave the room, crawls through the window, and in no small feat for a child, hangs Susan's friend on a hat rack by his face. Years later, Susan (Barbi Benton) is a divorced mother of one, spending her Valentines day picking up her physical test results from the hospital. She is driven there by her fiance, Jack(Jon Van Ness), who she leaves in the car assuming it will be a quick trip. As she enters the building, a man in a surgical outfit watches from a window, while doing some heavy breathing and rubbing a picture of her as a kid. The man then damages the elevator leaving Susan stuck inside, giving him time to stab up her doctor. After screaming a whole bunch, she gets free but has trouble getting her paperwork due to her physicians “sudden disappearance". While she bounces around the hospital a little, the killer fucks with her paperwork to further confuse the situation. Finally, she pins down a random guy in a doctor coat(Charles Lucia) and convinces him to check her out. He appears to be compliant but says he has to have a real doctor take a look. The friendly not-doctor takes her to what I hope was the slimiest guy with an MD in the building. This new, real doctor (John Warner Williams) takes a look at her paperwork, kinda makes an “oh shit” face and tells her they will have to do more tests. Susan is understandably annoyed but goes along with the bullshit because everyone there most likely has gone to college. Somewhat refusing to explain, the doctor starts his tests which include asking her to get naked so he can poke her with his fingers and a needle. After that extremely professional moment, she is given a hospital gown and dropped off in a room full of surreal old people to wait. In order to keep her contained to the hospital,( and probably just because he's sick in the dome) the mysterious killer in a doctor's outfit continues killing, badly hiding bodies in various places and dispatching with the people who find them. Thinking she is just up against creepy inefficient medical staff, Susan at some point finally decides to get the fuck out of there. Unfortunately, for her to escape her Hippocratic hell, she must not only overcome a hospital full of assholes but a non- licensed mad man out for revenge as well.
While the flick has got a lot of the sleazy slasher elements in place, most of the attempts at tension in the first chunks come from shared frustration and confusion. It's a mixed bag. It mostly fails at bringing the cliche horror pacing and veers into accidental tributes to classic films, due to it's drawn out scenes and angling. For a good part of the story, the main character’s fears are brought on by her treatment from the hospital staff and have little to do with the killer. It's almost effective if not a little too heavy on the satire for any real horror moments, coming closer to comedic. While people are getting sliced up in the background, Barbi Benton faces the perils of things like broken elevators and bad communication skills. Logic is a little loose, and the critical thinking for most characters is on par with a Jason victim, but because hospitals can be places of frantic confusion, it has room to play in this area. The film moves the main character through setting or situation in a dream-like manner. In each, her pleas for an explanation are continually ignored. It comes off as if the sleazy love child of a Franz Kafka story and a Jerry Seinfeld stand up routine that got lost in the hospital from Halloween II (1981).
The story keeps it mostly simple, bouncing between examples of real-life fears and slasher film tropes. It does a pretty good job of making every man in the movie creepy enough to be the killer. Unfortunately, it gives his identity away pretty quick if you are listening. It involves valentines day, so I guess technically it falls into the “holiday horror”, but it doesn't rely on this gimmick and almost seems to forget about it. Most likely it was just part of the routine as the movie industry continued to try to cash in on Halloween (1978), but it could be removed with little or no changes to the script. I don't mind it taking a back seat, there are plenty of films dedicated to what has to be one of lamest of holidays. The content never quite meets up to its grunge aesthetic. Despite having the same camera work and plot devices of some of the more brutal works from around that time, the kills are bloody but almost tame. Most of the action takes place off screen (or behind a surgical curtain), leaving the viewer with some splatter and maybe the aftermath. The entirety of its nudity comes from one long drawn out moment involving Benton and a malpractice suit waiting to happen. Even though it's a little lighter on the sleaze than the poster promises, it makes for satisfying trash and probably should be more than enough for most Benton fans.
The timing and set ups make sense- as the director, Boaz Davidson, would mostly be known for comedy, including the most brutal conclusion in a teen sex comedy ever seen in The Last American Virgin the next year, (having directed the West German-Israeli original in 1978). It was a Cannon Films production, rushed into the works to cash in on the Halloween (1978) ignited slasher fad. Davidson was brought in last minute to direct after an incident between the original director and Cannon. Along with its alternative release title Hospital Massacre, at one point it was going to be called Ward 13 and was originally developed under the hilarious name “Be My Valentine, or Else…”.
Mostly full of TV and side actors, the film utilizes creepy male figures well. Of note; the creepy hands-on Doctor Saxon, played to asshole perfection by John Warner Williams. This is the only thing I recognize him from (looks like he had a short stint in TV), but he nails the suspicious authority figure routine. Charles Lucia, the infamous “butthead” from Society, plays the helpful intern Harry. He does a creepy-good job of looking so deliberately mild-mannered that its unsettling. The main draw of the flick is Barbi Benton, who makes annoyed and suspicious look beautiful in a way only the start of the 80s could give you. She's not an amazing actress but does extremely well with a script that amounts to mostly looking drastically confused. It's a shame that in between Love Boat episodes she didn't do more genre flicks, but we will always have this and Deathstalker (1983).
As a Halloween clone X Ray(1981) is probably a failure, but it finds a good place to hang out in dark satire. I like to believe that a critique of the hospital experience was part of its original intentions. Plus it's got Fantasy Island’s favorite playmate, some OK blood splatter, and I think somebody gets lit on fire, which is cool. For what it brings to the table, it's more than worth a watch. Whether it's about scalpel, awkward, demeaning interactions or capital hospital anxiety, it is something most can relate to. Unfortunately for everyone, when you need health care there is usually no choice, you just need it. Really you should just be glad you can fucking get it, if you can. None of the hospitals around here will accept any of the aliases I give them anymore. If it helps, just remember that even early 80s Barbi Benton got treated like shit at the doctors office.
| 1981
Director: Boaz Davidson
Writers: Marc Behm, Boaz Davidson


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Possessed by the Night (1994) Review by RevTerry

There is no one discernible origin for my love of trash cinema. The roots of my high tolerance for the cheese, schlock, and taboos of the film world are probably too deep for me to actually even understand, or frankly, want to. There are some important events that come to mind though. Incidents that took place over my development that could be pointed to as partly responsible for building or creating my current tastes. Unfortunately for my scholarly cred, I must admit that the driving force behind some of these contributive moments can be boiled down to being a child in the 90s and trying to see some tits. It is what it is. I refuse to apologize for little me. It sounds bad and juvenile but it's the truth, and it sounds that way because I was a juvenile. It wasn't the same as today. Boobs didn't fly out computer screens like doves every time you opened Tumblr. Back then there was no Tumblr, no google, no high-speed porn tubes, and even when the fledgling internet finally showed up, it's bandwidth made waiting for a nipple to render painful. In these primitive times a curious party had to scrounge, conspire and fight for a glimpse of the coveted skin, but this brought with it a positive side effect. Since I couldn't just type boobs in a box somewhere, as a kid I would watch pretty much anything that even had the slightest hint of erotic subplot, and since it was either cable or a vhs tape, I had to just watch the whole thing. Over time, what was originally a misguided search for boobs turned into a (probably equally misguided) search for bad movies. The titties just being one part of an awesomely terrible package of entertainment. Thank the Cinema Gods for the premium channels free trials. Back then HBO and Showtime would turn on their channels for a few free days. I would spend all night watching whatever erotic thriller or near porn filled the later time slots. Usually, it was the same few flicks repeated at random, so after awhile you knew which ones were worth a wait. Somewhere between my transition from little kid looking for some cleavage to manchild just trying to watch some garbage, I ran into Possessed by the Night (1994).

The movie follows a few threads somehow involving each other through interaction with the main character and a magical, pickled one-eyed creature in a jar. A shylock, Gus (Chad McQueen), is first offered the jar as a down payment by a store owner. He initially refuses but his attitude changes slightly, when he gazes upon the preserved abomination and decides to give Mr. Wong a few more days. As he is walking away a group of shop regulars come by and take interest in the jar. It seems to cause the group of men to become violent. So Gus beats everyone up real quick before heading out. We then meet Howard Hansen(Ted Prior), a screenwriter and his sporty, real estate agent wife Peggy(Sandahl Bergman). Howard is working on a horror film script but is having trouble getting it done despite the pestering of his agent, Murray(Frank Sivero). To clear his head the writer goes out for a stroll and ends up at Mr. Wong's store, where he spots the jar full of medical waste and decides he has to have it. He takes it home and is suddenly able to start pumping out some pages, as long as the booger jar sits on his desk. Unfortunately he also starts getting extra aggressive during sexy time, which freaks his wife out a little. At the same time, following along with our shylock friend, we learn that Howard's manager has a little bit of a gambling problem and that a mob boss in this universe proudly “love bimbos” as well as, apparently, plastic surgery. Gus has a pregnant wife at home and wants out of the business, but the boss(Henry Silva) just brushes him off with confusing chatter. The tension in the back in the Hansan household only gets worse, when Murray inexplicably brings over a beautiful live-in secretary, Carol(Shannon Tweed), which he insists will help Howard complete the script. Soon the influence of the jar has Howard and Carol engaging in some strange, cringe-inducing erotic slapping before then tormenting Peggy, who seems to be the only one not affected by the jar or involved with illegal gambling. There's a bunch of sexual tension, conspiring and shots of a waterlogged cyclopic brain winking. Oh, and everyone takes their clothes off... except Henry Silva, luckily.
It's another Fred Olen Ray flick (see: Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers) and comes with his style and “humor” but with a little more of a visible budget than his more esteemed films. I guess after directing the Tanya Roberts vehicle, Inner Sanctum he was feeling a little typecast into making erotica crime thrillers, hence the jar-o-throbbing flesh with magical powers. All the better in my opinion. I don't think I would have remembered the film for so long had the only draw been softcore nudity and semi-successful tension. Despite being a part of Mr. Olen Ray’s more “budgeted” era, the tone steps outside of the genre's archetype and into a more fun-loving but still equally trashy flavor. His direction, in this case, is a little more focused than the classics that came before it and somewhat heightened most likely due to production cashflow.
The story meanders on unfruitful plot points and has holes but moves at a fast pace. It’s a lively contrast to other “erotic thrillers” that usually remain confined for long periods in an emotional back-and-forth between soap opera and Murder, She Wrote. It's still just as corny but leans into the cheese, and the added science fiction element helps. By all means, it is still a “Late Night” feature and makes sudden brakes for fucking. The big difference here being the rambunctious behavior can be attributed to the mood changing brain monster in a mayonnaise container. Dialog ranges from passing to hilarious, with a few especially great lines of accidental comedy from Henry Silva’s brand of delivery. The monster thingy looks like something Full Moon would throw together. It's not super realistic, but it looks enough like the love child of a booger and a smoke oyster to be gross. The unexplained thrift store find that causes chaos is a well-worn trope, but in here it's out of place and surreal in what would be another Shannon Tweed drama without it. There is plenty of cheesy nudity with soft light, although probably less then its original target audience was looking for. There isn't much for gore, aside from a little blood when people get shot. It's got a little body horror vibe going on, with the one-eyed fetus thing, but nothing to write Cronenberg about.
Our protagonist is played by Ted Prior a staple in crappy action and b movies. No stranger to naked ladies with guns and bad hairdos, he fits right in with the character. Chad McQueen, aka Cobra-motherfucking-Kai enforcer Dutch from Karate Kid (1984,1986), plays the shylock with the heart of gold, and Henry Silva plays his boss. Shannon Tweed is... well Shannon Tweed, the undeniable queen of mainstream erotic thrillers and all around manifestation of 90s home cinema hotness. She isn't really the main character, but it's obvious the film is built around her. She's a legend, the best there is at holding a gun and undressing dramatically, and for me this is her most rewatchable outing. Sandahl Bergman (see: Hell Comes to Frogtown) looks amazing as the emotionally tortured wife. It's nice to see so much of her and she's probably my favorite of the cast, but I always prefer her as some kind of badass. Fred himself makes a cameo as well as Peter Spellos AKA Orville Ketchum (see:Hard to Die) from the Sorority House Massacre series.
Possessed by the Night might fall in a valley between softcore porn and straight to video trash that only a hormone-driven preteen could initially understand. It's a fun watch that keeps its brain in a jar, but in the end it's a Fred Olen Ray flick starring Shannon Tweed. It is great trash, but if that doesn't sound like your cup of Kool-Aid, this one won't win you over. At least in my case, it served as a sleazy brick in the bridge between my willingness to sit through a film for boobs as a kid and my love for trash cinema as an adult. I don't even want to know what the youth of today are missing with their comparatively magic ways to skip to the good parts, or manifest any kink in front of them in moments. Spoiled fucks, in my day we watched entire Shannon Tweed movies, and we fucking liked it.
| 1994 
Director: Fred Olen Ray
Writers: Mark Thomas McGee, Fred Olen Ray 


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Night of the Demon (1980) Review by RevTerry

I would like to thank the internet for showing me that Bigfoot still has a posse out there and kicking, even if it is a little more sexually focused than I seem to remember from my days as a junior cryptozoologist. The over affectionate spin on the notion is understandable. Something about Mr.Foot is ultimately very relatable and charming. It's most likely his obvious favor of ungroomed solace. There have been several points in my life where a smelly existence alone in the forest seemed like a suitable choice or alternative, and if anyone would get that- I guess it would be Bigfoot. Whatever the reasoning, it's good to know that I'm not the only one out there still looking out for the big guy. Even if nowadays my squatching is mostly contained to yelling “Hey Bigfoot, where you at?” repeatedly every time I go hiking (intoxicated) and watching pretty much any sasquatch related film I uncover. In the world of Cinema, the illusive creature’s exploits have ranged from a grip of VHS family Adventures to obscure hardcore porn. Because it's easy to find and slightly modify a gorilla suit (or equivalent),they will probably make flicks forever or at least until Bigfoot himself appears, hires a lawyer and sues the shit out of everyone. I will be there to watch every single one, no matter how bad they are or how far outside of the target audience I am, because… well Bigfoot is the shit ,and that's the kind of stuff I do with my time. Without a doubt, in my opinion, the best would fall under the “bigfoot-horror” sub genre which boasts a few all time greats. Firstly no Bigfoot film conversation would be complete without a mention of the early faux-documentary The Legend of Boggy Creek (1972), and for something a little more manic there is the genre bending Demonwarp (1988). But for my personal favorite, if only by a hair, I would have to pick Night of the Demon.
The film opens in a hospital as some men speculate around an injured sleeping patient. When he awakens they press him for a statement regarding the incident that has gotten him into this fucked up state. It is implied that he is the lone survivor from a group that was attacked under mysterious circumstances. The man, Prof. Nugent(Michael Cutt), is pretty beat up, rocking a half face bandage ninja style. He begins his story, which opens with him telling another story to a group of students. Apparently something big and hairy is running around ripping the arms off fishermen and ruining home movies, and the good professor suspects that it is the legendary Bigfoot. Nugent has assembled his group of junior scientist to enter the forest in order to collect data and prove that Bigfoot is the one doing the killing (I’m doing a little assuming here). Among the crew is Carla Thomas whose father was killed by the beast while engaging in some van-sex, which she seems to know an awkwardly large amount of detail about. In the woods they meet a grumpy ass mountain man named Lou. He puts them on to the rumors about the hermit “Crazy Wanda”, a local legend who is rumored to have connections to the sasquatch. The tip takes the crew into town, where they learn about the crazy hillbilly cult that calls the woods home and their leader Emmet McGinty, a bat shit crazy preacher. According to the townsfolk, McGinty’s zealots use the forest to worship Satan, get freaky and watch Bigfoot fuck. This turns out to be true as the campers are awakened that night by the sound of chanting and led to a group of hicks with a wooden yeti statue about to do just that. Despite finding a religion based around demonic bestiality, the group continues on with the camping trip- that way they can be picked off one by one by the hairy demigod in creative ways and/or in various states of undress.
One of many films that gained notoriety in the 80s due to the hysterical “video nasty” panic, it later passed censors after being cut by more than a minute, including most of the infamous penis-removal scene. Because of that claim to fame, its recognizable urge to entertain and unique tone, it is a favorite among trash connoisseurs but hasn't seen a decent recent release, as far as I know. Despite the similar name the movie has no connection to the classic British horror film Curse of the Demon (1957 AKA Night of the demon) or the cult staple Night of the Demons (1988).
Night of the demon is an eclectic mix of mean spirited trash and manic ambition. The film is unbridled by things like a budget or logic and instead opts to go full force with sleazy, hairy madness. It sports terrible plank-like acting, a nonsense plot, terrible noise/muzak masquerading as a soundtrack and flashbacks that take place inside of flashbacks ,but somehow it all comes together to make one fucked up fun woodland outing. Camera work is, for the most part, stale but constant, keeping itself well within the realm of watchable. If you walked in at the wrong time you may think you were watching a camp safety video from the end of the Ford Era due to its almost sepia tones and washed out picture.
Despite looking like it was filmed in the 70s, its quantity over quality attitude in the splatter department is more true to its early 80s release date. There is a fair amount of carnage and even with its low rent practical effects provides some pretty nasty and memorable moments. This includes a well demonstrated life lesson about taking a piss on the side of the road for all of us that have a dick and would like to keep it, and swinging a dude around in a sleeping bag before impaling him on a tree with all accompanying blood squirts. Bigfoot also takes cock blocking lessons from Jason ,so there are a few scenes of corny nudity accompanied by extremely gross lip smacking sound effects.
Our survivor is played by Michael Cutt, who has stuck mostly to TV roles since. B-movie regular Paul Kelleher has small walk on appearance as “The Sheriff”, and due to a discorded rescue plot changed in post editing his name receives principle billing. The only other actor I could point out would be Lynn Eastman, who you may recognize from Project X (no not the ‘10s party flick, the one with Ferris Bueller and that scene where the monkey gets fried for science that makes me cry very manly tears every fucking time) or the first Phantasm(1979).
Of course the real star of the movie is Bigfoot, who in this case is amplified by his redneck cult origins and creative aptitude for people-killing. The effects for the “demon” falls somewhere between the quality of creature used in The Geek (1971) and the more effective “Fouke Monster” from Boggy Creek. A few kills are done from the yeti’s point of view, in what I like to call “Sqwatch-Vision” which involves grunting and a red blurred border around the screen. Early on it looks like the film may employ a less-is-more, Jaws-like style in keeping its monster’s appearance mostly hidden, but this technique is quickly forgotten in subsequent scenes.
To its biggest credit, Night of the Demon aims to please. It's a trashy woodland field trip into bad cinema that knows what you came for and wears its flaws like boy scout badges. It easily sits close to the top of my extensive list of Bigfoot related films and gets extra points for its comical, but brutal, portrayal. I'm glad the internet has brought Bigfoot people together, but I think it's in our mysterious mutual friend's best interest to keep the bad boy persona. The big hairy guy has stayed hidden for a reason, and no matter what Tumblr tells you, I don't think he wants to meet you, or is a hugger. If you truly love him you will respect that and make everyone watch this movie, as they are less likely to go looking for a dick-ripping, satanic rapist in the woods…

On second thought, that might not work out right either. Shit, sorry Bigfoot the internet can be both a blessing and a curse sometimes.
 1h 32min | 1980
 Director: James C. Wasson
Writers: Jim L. Ball, Mike Williams 


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