Friday, December 10, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Umberto Lenzi must HATE New York. Or New Yorkers, I should say. Here are four and a half of the most reprehensible, self-absorbed and downright STUPID people you've ever seen outside of a Pauly Shore movie, and they're all "New Yorkers" (though they sure don't LOOK like it, with their mullets and bad perms). Needless to say, these Sarah Palin wannabees pretty much have to PROVOKE the cannibals into doing what they do, and it all really makes NO sense at all. They HANG OUT in the cannibal village, forgodsake, and then act SHOCKED when the men return. If you like gore, there's plenty of it here, though most of the violence and dismemberment toward the humans is very fake looking (freeze frame the castration scene - whatever latex was used looks NOTHING like what it's meant to be). But yes, like the other reviewers said, there are several animal deaths, some very cruelly staged and THOSE are hard to watch if you like small woodland creatures. I do, but at the same time, I REALLY hate stupid people, so CANNIBAL FEROX was kind of a toss-up. Animal killings bad, stupid people dismemberments really satisfying. Some decent nudity by the blonde, and thank God the brunette keeps her clothes on. Three stars then, right down the middle. With a MACHETE.HEY, CAN I GET A HAND HERE? NO, I MEAN LITERALLY.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
"Satan, where are you? Come out and fight! You're yellow, Satan!" No wonder the Prince of Darkness takes time off his busy schedule to star in this Filipino schlock film - who could possibly resist a challenge like that? I swear, they spent less money on this movie than Rush Limbaugh spends on diet pills, and yet, even if the special effects are laughably bad and the editor looks like he spliced the film with a lumberjack's axe, still - you gotta love the ambitiousness and inexplicability (if that's a word) of it all. A man runs directly in front of a slow-moving styrofoam boulder and instantly becomes a bloody pancake, and yet his head (which curiously did not get flattened) is still able to warn the hero, "Stop that boulder!" And don't let that Frank Frazetta fanclub cover art fool ya either - the hero of the film looks more like a balding forklift driver, and Satan looks more like a guy who got turned down by the traveling production of Mummenschantz. They don't make 'em like this anymore. Because now they got things like, I don't know, cash. And technique. And plots. Does that really say this was filmed in 1983? Sweet Baby Jesus, it looks ten years older even by third world standards! This is freeform Filipino cinema at its finest. Satan, where are you? Come out and FIGHT!!!
SATAN'S MINION? OR A RARE EARLY PRESS PHOTO OF GILBERT GOTTFRIED?
Friday, August 20, 2010
Call it The Real World: Death Yacht, I like that. That's about right too - a bunch of semi-hot spoiled British brats go out on a boat and frolic and make out and force you to activate your subtitles option just to make out what they're mumbling. Then something bad happens centered around the titular "donkey punch," a quick shot to the back of the head during anal sex for those of you who don't know (and God bless you), and suddenly the kids turn on each other, because, hey, that's what spoiled kids do. And if you thought Paris and Nicole had a falling out, you ain't seen nothing til you've seen Nigel and Ian and Emma going at it here. Comparisons to KNIFE IN THE WATER, DEAD CALM or, jeesus, any good movie are completely unjustified - this is basically THE RULES OF ATTRACTION crossed with BATTLE ROYALE if MTV filmed it. But hey, the cast is pretty and they get naked, so if you don't expect Sir John Gielgud and Kate Winslet to show up with an axe, you should have a good time for an hour and a half. If only the cast of Jersey Shore would start killing each other off like this...
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Let’s be honest. THE CRAWLERS sucks. Hard. But so did TROLL 2, and that’s got something of a cult following now BECAUSE of its hard suckiness. So where’s the love for THE CRAWLERS? Well I, for one, bet it would get a lot more attention – and a DVD release – if it were actually called TROLL 3 to capitalize on the fans of 1 and 2. Or maybe they could market it as "THE HAPPENING without Zooey Deschanel.” Either way, you just KNOW this movie’s gonna be fun when its default internet synopsis goes like this:
“Evil nuclear power plant manager is dumping nuclear waste in a forest. People start getting killed. Drunken PhD in power plant starts tracking radiation in the forest. More people killed. Newspaper reporter and local boy and girl start investigating. Still more people killed. Townspeople try to remove nuclear waste. Yet more people killed. EPA cleans up the mess with bulldozers.”
Really? Is it THAT simple? No trolls, no goblins, no Nilbogs, and not even things that fucking crawl? And it’s all cleaned up by the EPA with bulldozers? How can you possibly fill 90 minutes with THAT? Well shit, if Dana Carvey can make a full-length film, then surely these kids can stretch out this air-thin plot for an hour and a half, right? Well now, let’s see how they did it…
It helps that the first death in the film doesn’t take place until 17 minutes in. Something slithers and, well, CRAWLS through the grass and somehow manages to knock out a girl by grabbing her ankles. Which, if you think about it, probably explains how Vern Troyer gets laid. Mind you, the movie never tells you how these tiny fuckers KILL, but in the movie all the trees started spinning around a lot, so maybe they make their victims so dizzy they pass out. They certainly don’t HARM their victims much, because after Victim 1 falls, she's seen being dragged away without so much as a scratch on her body. Dude, I got two words that would make this all a LOT easier. Form, and Chloro, and not necessarily in that order.
Okay, so the IMDB spoiler synopsis has already clued you in as to who is behind these killings – tree roots – and why – evil nuclear power plant droppings are changing the trees into bloodthirsty killers craving human flesh. All that’s left for you is to, y'know, actually buy into this bullshit. In the meantime, you can enjoy the crack makeup department’s gore FX, and the kind of epic bad acting that made TROLL 2 such a hoot. There’s a great sheriff in THE CRAWLERS who’s REAL voice musta sucked so bad because EVERY one of his lines is overdubbed. And that includes such gems as “Ahhh, you kids, you get my GOAT!” Then there’s the evil power plant director himself, who seems to spend his entire day on the phone and, for some reason, can’t seem to stop bobbing up and down every time he delivers a line. I mean, this dude is a living, breathing bobblehead doll.
Thankfully, even plant roots know a shit actor when they see one, so they eventually go after the sheriff, who starts screaming like a schoolgirl when he’s attacked. And for all we know, they might BE the screams of a schoolgirl overdubbed on the audio track. Then we get a low-budget but still pretty damn effective FX shot of a root pushing THROUGH HIS FACE that’s one for the gore hounds. A grandmother gets killed a few minutes later (her screams are overdubbed too), and finally the forest ranger or somebody comes by in a helicopter. And what has to be one of the most outlandish scenes in the entire TROLL trilogy (and if you’ve seen 1 and 2, you KNOW that’s saying something), the plant roots actually ATTACK the helicopter and BRING THE FUCKING HELICOPTER DOWN! Great. Just what we needed. JAWS for the horticulture set.
Amazingly enough, the giant radioactive bloodthirsty flesh-craving girl-dragging granny-munching tree roots from Hell are brought to a rather anticlimactic demise when a trio of bulldozers suddenly appears on the scene and simply starts plowing down the forest. So yeah, the threat of complete and total human destruction via plant life is thwarted by a fucking road crew. As to exactly WHY Satan’s root farm is able to drag down a helicopter in flight but turns into Glee Club pansies at the sight of a John Deere remains as much a mystery as why any straight man would ever buy a She and Him CD.
Thankful that the roots have finally been vanquished and peace has been restored to the tiny town despite the death of the sheriff who never used his own voice, our heroine grabs a phone and starts making calls to boys she hasn’t been able to hang out with while all this radioactive plant murder stuff’s been going on. But while she’s chatting on the phone, her Christmas tree, on its own, suddenly begins to shake…
Sadly for the world, there wasn’t to be a CRAWLERS 2: AWAY IN A MANGLER or even a TROLL 4 for that matter. But then again, in keeping with the spirit of the series, it wouldn’t HAVE to be about trees. It could be about killer spatulas. Or radioactive adult diapers. Whatever, I’d still rent it because it would be a guaranteed good time. Unless Zooey Deschanel was in it. Thank God they haven’t gone THERE yet.
If you’ve seen TROLLS 1 and 2, you owe it to yourself to pick up THE CRAWLERS and fire up that old Hitachi VCR once more. Good crappy B-movie fun with some well-meaning gore, actors deemed too sucky to be in TROLL 2, and a tree taking down a fucking HELICOPTER forgodsake! For that alone, I give it three Kari’s.
FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS
00:17 – Herve Villechaize’s first kill! Death by ankle grab!
00:30 – What happens when you get killed by radioactive tree roots. You become a radioactive girl with skin like tree bark. In other words, Heidi Fleiss.
00:43 – More death by tree root. Or, in this case, overacting.
1:02 – The gore shot. Or what it would look like if a root tried to PUSH its way THROUGH your head. In other words, like Heidi Fleiss.
1:07 – The radioactive roots kill a helpless old grandmother. “I’ve fallen, and I can’t get out of this movie!”
1:22 – The old trite Hollywood cliché scene where a bunch of giant snakelike radioactive completely mobile tree roots grab hold of a helicopter and bring it crashing down to Earth. Really, how many TIMES do we have to see this?
Monday, August 9, 2010
When stupid people do stupid things and wind up dead because of it, I don't consider that horror. Is there a genre called "Satisfying Darwinism?" Because this film qualifies. This family is so dumb, they make the Palin family reunion look a Mensa convention. There's one scene where the dad tells his son to get away from the door so he can chop it down with an axe. He takes three big swings, lifts back the axe and suddenly finds there's blood on the end of it. So what does he do? Starts furiously chopping at the door even more! Gee, thanks, Dad!
Even by Fulci standards, this blows - nothing really even starts happening until after an hour (and it's 1:27 long so go figure). Even for gorehounds, there's a ton of red syrup but precious little grue. Even the title's wrong. One family tombstone does not a cemetery make. Look, if you want a really scary movie, rent something with Pauly Shore in it.
SUCKS WHEN THE MAKEUP DEPARTMENT RUNS OUT OF MONEY MID-FILM.
Monday, August 2, 2010
I never attended any of my own high school reunions. Partially because I moved out of the area as soon as they handed me that diploma, and partially because I had no friends. It’s a good thing I didn’t, too, because shit like this happens more often than you know. You go because you’re curious to find out if the head cheerleader turned out to be a corporate lawyer, a stripper or a mother of three (it was always the latter), but you end up being murdered by a puppet in the gymnasium. Don’t believe me? Watch Class Reunion Massacre.
Go on, just try to. I dare you. It’s a work of cinematic genius, I tell you. Remember how all those obnoxious film students in college couldn’t stop talking shit about that long continuous opening tracking shot in Touch of Evil? Well fuck them, because Class Reunion Massacre has an opening shot just as long. Okay, technically it doesn’t really “track” per se, it just kinda hangs. On a fucking river. Yeah, that’s right, it’s three fucking minutes of footage of a river. Good thing Mr. Welles didn’t live long enough to see it. “This is a lot of shit, you know that,” he’d say, wiping the dribble off his four chins with a Brillo pad. “It’s very unrewarding.”
Finally, after three minutes of Rio Dullo, we get a quote superimposed on the screen. “From out of the darkness, the hand of the redeemer shall appear to punish those who have lived in sin…” and yes, it ends with the ellipsis, as if they couldn’t afford the typesetting needed to finish it. Meanwhile, Keith Emerson’s retarded little brother diddles around on a synthesizer. Suddenly some Butch Patrick wannabe starts walking OUT of the river, and for the first time in five minutes we’ve got ACTION baby. Not much action, mind you, but at this point, we’ll take what we can get. Shit, this movie’s already less interesting than a REAL high school reunion, and that’s saying something.
Butchie walks out of the river, gets on a bus, and goes to some religious school where he’s a choir boy or something. As he changes into his choir boy uniform in the boys locker room – relax, girls, this ain’t Porky’s – his classmates start telling a joke about a sailor and a whore but we never get to hear the punch line because somewhere else someone’s just shot the pool boy. Are you following all this? Is it gonna be on the test?
Okay, good, now put all that in the back of your mind, because you’ll never need it again. Seriously. For the next 30 minutes, we follow a small group of alumni preparing for their reunion. Hence the title of the movie, finally. There’s the spoiled thespian, the serious scholar, there’s even a lesbian. Meanwhile, some unknown killer type is cutting all their photos from a yearbook and making clay masks of their faces. Hey, is this gonna be like that old Twilight Zone episode? Finally, the alums show up at the old school itself, and the strange janitor who answers the doors doesn’t seem to know there’s gonna be a reunion at all. Despite the MASSIVE FUCKING BANNER that says “Welcome Class of 1967” hanging over the entryway. And the HUGE FUCKING PARTY TABLE decked out in orange and red ribbons. Nope, sorry, didn’t get the email. Or however they communicated back then. Still, there are only six alums who show up for this reunion, and they have no idea who invited them. But that doesn’t seem to bother ‘em much, so they do what classmates who haven’t seen each other in 20 years should do. They start fucking. “Nothing changes,” one suave dude says and plants a wet one on some dumb blonde who was in his science class once. You think we were horny back then? Just wait’ll you see what 20 years and a life of staring at a river will do to a man.
It ain’t long before things start getting all wonky, and I don’t mean sexual. The dumb blonde finds the first victim, a former janitor who’s been dead so long a family of maggots is making a new home in his neck. In a rare moment of horror film lucidity, they actually DO try to immediately leave, but in a not-so-rare moment of horror film cliché, all the windows and doors are suddenly barred shut and locked, obviously by someone who managed to do all that construction and welding work in a few short minutes without so much as a sound. Oh yeah, and now there’s some creepy guy outside dressed like the K-Mart Halloween Department version of Death harassing them through the fence with a big plastic sickle. Oh, the horror! Still, I’d take this over more footage of that fucking river.
Well, I think you can guess how the rest of this movie goes. Like Ten Little Indians only four short, each of our alums gets picked off one by one in clever ways. One girl gets killed in super slo-mo by a crazed hunter who looks like the bastard son of Brad Dourif and the bassist from Black Oak Arkansas. The former high school quarterback gets offed by a Bunsen burner and a remote controlled Howdy Doody puppet. And then there’s the killer himself, obviously a failed drama student whose put on a few pounds in those unkind post-graduation twenty years, who dresses like Bozo the Clown and acts like Nicolas Cage on a heroin binge. “The time has come to serve yourself!” he emotes while disposing of the class bimbo by drowning her in a sink, but not before giving us some completely unnecessary (but always welcome) wet T-shirt action. Seriously, though, this chick has GOT to be the single weakest girl ever killed in a horror film. Not only did she get killed by a clown, she got killed in a fucking SINK by an overweight, effeminate, OVERACTING clown. That’s just embarrassing.
Y’know, now that I think about it, if I ever start a rock band, I think I’m going to call it Death By Clown. It’s got a nice ring to it.
More death ensue, some by remote-controlled puppets, and every time someone gets killed, Keith Emerson has an epileptic fit on the soundtrack. By the time this film ends, the opening quote is finished, and we finally understand why the kid came out of the river thanks to a strange, spiritual conclusion which tries hard to turn this brave little slasher into something far, far more meaningful. Does it succeed? Depends on what you’re looking for. There’s very little blood in Class Reunion Massacre, and not one tit despite two semi-hot and very ditzy blondes that should’ve given up the goods like immediately. The death traps themselves are pretty ingenious, though, in a bloodless Saw kinda way, and some are so ridiculous you swear the filmmakers were so hopped up on Night Train, they make Orson Welles look like a fucking teetotaler on the set of his frozen food commercials. “What is it you want, in the depths of your ignorance?” he’d shout to the overweight, overacting killer clown, before hissing in anger “You are such PESTS!” And any film that can piss off Citizen Kane is okay in my book. Two and a half Kari Wuhrers.
FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS –
00:38 – Ditzy blonde finds dead janitor whose neck is a housing project for maggots. Which means the killer struck last around, oh say, 1973?
00:42 – Death by radio-controlled Howdy Doody puppet with built in Bunsen burner! Memo to Jigsaw and your fancy schmancy Saw death contraptions: Let me know when you wanna play with the big boys.
00:51 – Why they tell high school quarterbacks to pay attention in science class. And why they tell film score composers not to listen to Emerson Lake and Palmer.
00:54 – Great, the killer in this film is Truman fucking Capote!
1:01 – Death by Clown.
1:12 – Death by Puppet.
1:18 - Death by Llama. Just kidding. Woulda been cool though.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Remember that psycho killer in Lucio Fulci’s way-past-his-prime gorefest NEW YORK RIPPER who actually quacked like a fucking duck when making a kill? Well, here in POSSESSION, we got a guy who likes to cackle like Crispin Glover on helium and make Marty Feldman faces. Lots of ‘em. In fact, that’s all this guy really does – dresses in camouflage, cackles like Robin Quivers on crack, and worships at the altar of Marty Feldman. Oh yeah, and there’s lots of nudity in this one, male and female, so you can kinda consider it SEX WITH A SMILE crossed with I DISMEMBER MAMA. BODY HEAT never came to mind.
THE KILLER. ONLY SLIGHTLY SCARIER THAN COREY FELDMAN.
Things immediately start off on the right foot – we’re not one full minute into the film when we see an unconscious girl being dragged across the lawn wearing only a skimpy nightgown, which doesn’t exactly cover her up if’n ya know what I mean (and I know you do). 9 minutes later, our killer's forcing a hot blonde to strip and wear his mother’s red dress, and the poor actress obliges. Yeah, he refers to his Mom a lot in this movie, so that might be where casual viewers and Leonard Maltin get their PSYCHO comparisons from. It doesn’t help that our killer sounds like a young Fred Schneider from the B-52s and looks like the bastard son of John Turturro and Joacquin Phoenix. It’s enough to make any young boy turn into a murderous, bloodthirsty cackling camouflaged Marty Feldman-loving psychopath. Or worse yet, John Malkovich.
DOES THIS DRESS MAKE ME LOOK FAT?
Turns out our killer’s just looking for a girlfriend, and none of the girls are living up to Mother’s standards. So he kills ‘em. If that were me, I’d have to dispatch every girl in the tri-state area who wasn’t Cindy Crawford or Lisa Robertson from QVC. Because those are my mom’s standards. So I can kinda, you know, relate to this guy. I’m not saying I would go around smearing camouflage on my face and doing facial expressions from YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN, but you get the idea. Anyway, he chases a few girls back to their Jeep Cherokee early on, and even though it’s wintertime, they conveniently keep their windows down so he can grab them as they try to pull away. When a cop just happens to be walking by (apparently they still ‘walked the beat’ back in 1987), the killer stabs him viciously, while his partner shoots four times blindly down the street. So much for public safety, huh?
THAT'S A NICE VIEW. ER, OUTSIDE THE WINDOW I MEAN.
Meanwhile, some Charlie Spradling wannabee is lying face down on the bed in a skimpy white teddy, just waiting for her boyfriend to arrive. When our killer walks in instead (don’t ask how, just accept) and starts rubbing her leg, she moans in ecstasy. Little does she know, it’s Marty Feldman as Norman Bates giving her the rubdown. But instead of, y’know, fucking her or something, he quickly stabs her in the back, then spears her pansy-ass boyfriend when he shows up 30 seconds later, finishing him off with the Freddy Kreuger-like punchline of “You’re late!” Yeah, but you’re gay, dude, for not banging that piece of ass on the bed. Even Marty Feldman would've helped himself to some of that.
Meanwhile, another group of liquored-up young things are partying down with some Chippendale dancers (yes, folks, the skin in POSSESSION isn’t solely for the guys). There’s also a really really shitty country song playing, with a chorus of “doing it right on the wrong side of town,” which somehow manages to make Rascal Flatts sound like literary scholars. The killer, meanwhile, is smart enough to stay away from Chippendale parties and country music, and continues to drown hot girls without fucking them and, in one particularly gruesome scene, pushes a guy’s face down into a spinning fan belt while he’s checking his car engine. Then he takes a baseball bat to his friend, all the while remembering to make a different Marty Feldman face in between each swing of the bat!
ONE FOR THE LADIES.
He chases another girl into the woods, where he suddenly stops in front of a tree, cackles for a few seconds and then starts licking his knife. Two minutes later he inexplicably jumps froggie-style into a girls’ shower and does something to a nude Jamie Lee Curtis lookalike that causes red paint to splash up on the shower wall and run slowly down the drain. After another soliluquoy to Mom and more priceless Marty Feldman faces, he steps over the hot, wet, completely nude co-ed on the shower floor and never even touches her. Now I don’t consider myself a freak by any stretch of the imagination, but if I ever found myself in a shower stall with a nude and unconscious Jamie Lee Curtis stunt double, you’d seriously have to turn off the cameras for an hour or two. Seriously. Nobody films that shit.
And, by the way, what message does all of this send to us? I mean, isn’t it a slasher film rule that only the girls who fuck get killed? All this one did was sleep late and take a nice long shower. Is that reason enough to slash her throat? Oh right. I’m looking for sense in a film with a camouflaged cackling knife-licking Fred Schneider doppelganger with a Jones for THE LAST REMAKE OF BEAU GESTE. Fuck me already.
So what we gots here is a lot of babes getting all nekkid but nobody to take advantage of ‘em, plot holes big enough to drive Hummers through, some inventive kills but no real gore to speak of (and almost all the killings take place offscreen due to budgetary concerns), and one seriously fucked up momma’s boy doing the killing. I say buy it and have fun with it, but not while sober, and rewatch it for the babes. And if you’re a Marty Feldman fan, this is a whole hell of a lot better than YELLOWBEARD.
I GIVE IT TWO OUT OF FOUR KARI WUHRERS.
FAST FORWARDING TO THE GOOD PARTS –
00 MINUTES – Right off the bat, we get a nip slip while dragging a dead girl across the lawn. Hotcha!
9 MINUTES – Forces a blonde to put on his mom’s red dress. Issues, man, issues.
OH TO BE REINCARNATED AS LIPSTICK...
28 MINUTES – Teen sex interrupted by what has to be the single WORST impression of a little teenage sister ever committed to film.
30 MINUTES – A Chippendale dancer in a skimpy thong gyrates for the ladies out there. Bummer for me.
I CUT YOU WITH MY KNIFE OF IMPOTENCY!
36 MINUTES – Fully nude shower scene from a smoking hot babe who’s got a body that’s almost as good as Charlie Spradling’s! And you don’t have to sit through PUPPET MASTER II just to see it!
A TWO STRIPE ASS IF THERE EVER WAS ONE.
44 MINUTES – Another hottie in the bathtub this time. But what’s with the CARE BEARS bubble bath? No, seriously. What’s WITH that?
NOPE, NO FREDDIE KRUEGER HAND HERE.
1:06 – Jamie Lee Curtis stand-in shows the whole goods in the shower, including a rather nice breast mole, but something tells me she ain’t gonna last long. Hey, I was right!
MUST BE THIS TALL TO GET KNIVED IN THE SHOWER.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Some snot-nosed kid on Amazon called Lucio Fulci's 1990 gorefest CAT IN THE BRAIN "sloppy." Well, kid, sloppy ain't the half of it. There's a scene where somebody gets attacked with a chainsaw in the house and there's a splitsecond shot of someone picking up the saw FROM THE GRASS OUTDOORS! But God love him, little Lucio's having a ball with this film, he's like a kid in a meathook market. There's more gore here than at a Global Warming Seminar (that's a bad Al Gore joke), and even though it looks kinda fake by today's standards, the sheer joy and exuberance Lucio exhibits in his handling of it is hard to resist. If only today's bloodbaths (SAW and HOSTEL, I'm looking at you) were this much fun, kids today wouldn't be so screwed up. Oh that wacky Lucio Fulci!
Friday, July 2, 2010
People are right. This is a visually stunning cross between Boogie Nights, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls and every porn tape your dad has stashed in the basement. But read that running time again. 120 minutes. That's TWO FRIGGIN' HOURS. For what would be a hilarious SNL skit. I mean, imagine if Bill Murray's Italian Hercules sketch was made into a feature length film by Peter Jackson. Not so funny by the time minute 49 rolls around, is it? So yeah, I give Anna Biller props for a dead-on recreation of Cinemax After Dark 1973, but Anna, you need to remember that no bad movies ran over 80 minutes back then. Not to mention Anna's landing strip bush is a glaring anachronism. Grow it out, girl. It's 1973!IF THIS WERE REALLY 1973, THAT BUSH WOULD BE HALF WAY UP HER STOMACH.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
"Garrett Morris lampoons Famous Amos"? What? You still haven't rented this yet? It's got killer ice cream forgodsake! And Michael Moriarty, who can't possibly be sober. And hey, I think I counted two or three times where there may have been a gory special effect - that's about 30 seconds out of 90 minutes - and I didn't count the times when the yogurt chases someone or Garrett Morris's head explodes, because they're actually funny. Now if they would've burst open Dan Aykroyd's fat melon, I might've actually cheered. God, I know Larry Cohen's a hack, but THE STUFF somehow even made Q: THE WINGED SERPENT look good. Did I mention Garrett Morris lampoons Famous Amos?