“Wherever we turn, there ain’t no way back
From the final burn, to the final attack!
Pardon me, if you will, for rocking like nobody’s business there, but I just can’t help myself after watching 1986’s cannibal-cavemen-on-the-ski-slopes no-budget no-brains horror fest BLOOD TRACKS, which is so bad, boys and girls, it’s not even out on DVD. Keep in mind, they're re-releasing every Jess Franco movie they can get their paws on. Shit, even Pauly Shore movies are on DVD. So just how bad can BLOOD TRACKS be then? So bad, it’s good. That’s a cliché. There’ll be plenty more where that came from.
Really, you’d be hard-pressed to find a movie that’s more locked in its year than this one. BLOOD TRACKS screams 1986 more than a Sheila E video. From the bad hair metal band Easy Action – obviously not named after the groovy Alice Cooper album – who hair-flip and air-guitar their way through the theme song like Ronnie James Dio being strangled by a Yeti (and don’t think I haven’t prayed for that). To the band of Haysi Fantayzee extras posing as groupies who look more faux new wave than a Liquid Sky convention. And either I got confused or fell asleep early in this one, because it sounds like the groupies have their own pop band, or go by the name of Solid Gold, since the minute they set foot on the ski slopes the crowd goes positively apeshit, chanting “Solid Gold! Solid Gold! Solid Gold!” until Marilyn McCoo herself claws her way out of the snow and tells them to shut the fuck up already. As the girls in Montel’s audience used to say, “They ain’t all that!”
Trouble’s a-brewin’ in BLOOD TRACKS right off the bat. Our beloved and bubblegum-chewing Dale Bozzios are having none of this snow shit. “I’m gonna freeze my tits off!” one of ‘em yells right after getting off her rock and roll Roadmaster, to which the video director replies, “Who told you snow was warm?” Too-shay, Mr. Doo-shay, it’s bon mots like these I’ve been craving ever since Meatballs 3 went out of print. But before you can roll on the floor laughing your ass off, Easy Action suddenly appears on a snowbank and starts rocking like no one’s ever rocked before (in the history of rockin’) with that godawful shitty sub-Goth metal fuck song they call “Blood Tracks.” “Wherever we turn, there ain’t no way back! From the final burn, to the final attack! Blood tra-a-a-a-acks!” And if you think that sounds a little like Europe’s “Final Countdown,” wait’ll you hear the music. Never in my life did I think a band could make Winger look tough, but these snow pansies do just that.
Needless to say, their excessive rocking causes a sudden avalanche, and now our heroes are trapped in the slopes with their 80’s selves for a long time like some endless Square Pegs marathon in Antarctica. To cut a long story short (and I wish the makers of BLOOD TRACKS had), the group get killed off one by one by a freakish family of decaying cavemen who throw big steel girders in the air and buy their clothes from the Goodwill shop without washing them first. If you’re looking for gore, forget it – the killings and impalings in BLOOD TRACKS are too dark to see, and there’s probably a good reason for that. If you’re looking for sex, there’s some of that, but it’s filmed in that super-extre-e-e-m closeup MTV quick-cut crap style so you don’t get to actually see much of the good pink stuff, and again, there’s probably a good reason for that too. I swear the punkish blonde who gets banged early on is the same one in the 1986 cheapie Pod People ripoff BREEDERS, but don’t quote me on that. And don’t tell anyone I actually watched both movies.
Here’s the good news. Easy Action never play again. But by now you’ve sat through the theme song twice, so the producers are obviously showing you some mercy. Amazingly, our Winger wannabees don’t even get to play over the end credits – instead we get some weak Celtic new wave band like the Pogues or the Boomtown Rats going Adult Contemporary. No avalanche here, kids. These guys couldn’t even put a crack in an ice pond.
So yeah, I wanted to like BLOOD TRACKS because, despite what you may think, the 80’s were actually kinda cool when you think about it - I mean, they gave us MTV, Wall of Voodoo and Kari Wuhrer. But like the 80’s, BLOOD TRACKS is all superficial – the hair, the fashion and the eye shadow are there, but there’s no heart. No good sex. And no scares. And by anchoring their film with bad hair metal rather than a semi-decent synth pop new wave band, the makers of BLOOD TRACKS tell you exactly where their movie’s heading. Yep. This one sucks you like a hurricane.
The 80's cheeze is peaking in the red on this one. Bad hair metal. Bad hair. Bad makeup. In a way, this is better than going to a Thor concert. Good for all the wrong reasons and endlessly entertaining. Just wish there were more tits. I'll go right up the middle with this one. 2 and a half Karis. Don't watch it alone, or sober.