Review: Death-Scort Service

You may find this hard to believe, but the Son of Celluloid has, once or twice, been accused of being a movie snob.  I know, right?  Usually it’s when I’m proclaiming my love for something artsy-fartsy and high-concept.  Now don’t get me wrong.  While I have always loved the grindhouse, somewhere in the process of getting a film studies degree I developed an appreciation for the arthouse.  Sure, I love Jason and Freddy.  I love Kwaidan too, though.  Maybe a little Santa Sangre.  Even pretentious as hell stuff like Hour of the Wolf.  But sometimes, you want to dispense with all of the fancy bullshit and bask in as much gratuitous nudity and violence as possible.  We all love a good steak, but dammit, you’re craving a Whopper.  In other words, you want the simple pleasures.  And that’s where Death-Scort Service comes in.

Synopsis: Someone is killing hookers.

Yep.  That’s all the synopsis I’m giving you.  Why?  Because you’ll know from that if this is your type of flick.  Death-Scort Service isn’t particularly long on plot.  It doesn’t need to be.  It delivers exactly what you want from a flick like this, naked chicks getting dead.  And let me tell you, it offers up just that in abundance and to excess.

Let’s start with the nudity, shall we?  I would say that there is an at least semi-naked woman on screen for about 87% of the movie.  Yeah, I just pulled that number out of thin air, but it’s a pretty good estimate.  It’s definitely the “beyond R-rated” variety of nudity.  Not XXX, but pretty graphic.  Most of the actresses playing the non-clad ladies of ill repute are of the “Suicide Girl” variety, which is right up my alley.  Hell, this was a collaborative effort between Gatorblade Films and Sleaze Box.  With the SB boys involved, you know what you’re in for.  Naughty bits on display.  What’s not to love about that?

As for the gore, it’s exactly the kind of stuff that fans of low budget splatter (like me) eat up.  Low-fi and practical, just the way we like it.  A copious amount of the red stuff goes flying, dripping, and running.  Skin and entrails too.  This is the gore you loved in all of your favorite video store nasties.  Besides, Marcus Koch is involved, so you know it’s gotta be good.  I don’t want to get into details so as not to give any of the kills away, but suffice it to say they’re quite satisfying.  Well, except for one.  SLIGHT SPOILER:  There is one scene involving barbed wire.  Unfortunately, they used the same bad $5.99 fake barbed wire that you can get at any Party City.  It’s a shame, too.  Otherwise it’s a really cool, depraved scene that could have been legendary.  It might not bother some, but as a bit of an authority on barbed wire from my deathmatch work, that stood out like a sore thumb to me.  There is better prop barbed wire out there, guys.

Having discussed the gory and sexy stuff, the other aspects of the film are better than your average underground filth fest.  The acting is about what you’d expect from a flick like this.  Performances from the ladies range from “Damn, she’s pretty good” to “Damn, it’s a good thing she’s pretty.”  There are also appearances by two guys that are always welcome additions to any flick, Sleaze Box stalwart Bob Glazier and indie legend Joel Wynkoop.  The final twist/reveal of the killer’s identity works well.  I actually didn’t see it coming, which is saying something.  79 minutes is an optimum length, and the pace is pretty much perfect.

This movie manages to do exactly what a lot of the films of its ilk attempt but fail at; go to extremes with the graphic nudity and violence while capturing the feeling of a late 80’s/early 90’s shot on video gem.  As we saw with Die Die Delta Pi, director Sean Donohue has a firm grasp on what it takes to make an enjoyable slasher flick.  We’ve all been burned by films with great names that don’t live up to the promise of their titular glory.  I know exactly what you’re looking for from a flick called Death-Scort Service, and you need not worry.  It delivers the goods.  Death-Scort Service is sleazy, dirty, bloody, mean, nasty fun.  Nathan says check it out.

Review: Amerikan Holokaust

You can purchase Amerikan Holokaust HERE.

I know I’ve been away for a while, but never fear, Cellmates!  The Son of Celluloid is back to reviewing indie horror, and today we’ve got a real doozy.  When a movie is made by a couple of guys known for a web show called The Sleaze Box, you expect a certain level of nasty.  Amerikan Holokaust delivers on said nasty in spades.  Director Chris Woods and co-writer John Miller have made something that will disgust all but the most undisgustable (I’m trademarking that one), but it’s more than just vice and viscera.   Like good advice screamed in your face by a foul breathed, spittle spewing crackhead; the pervasive gore, nudity, profanity, and all around perversity actually have some underlying substance.

Synopsis: Michael Mashburn and his former Lieutenant, Antwan Mercer shelter themselves from the world to make a new beginning.  They start by abducting young men and women and torture them for their own amusement.  Their victims will be treated to the most vile and heinous manners you can ever imagine.  Some of them they will keep and force them to join their army, but most will all die a slow and horrible death.

If you follow underground horror at all, you know that “serial killers documenting their crimes” is not exactly a new concept.  In fact, it’s been done to death.  Amerikan Holokaust sets itself apart from the glut of cinema verite slaughter, however, by introducing a new ingredient to the formula.  This movie knows that it’s a movie.  It’s got some effectively jarring editing and a droning, dissonant noise soundtrack.  These sickos aren’t just recording funtime for posterity.  They’re using their recordings as part of a film project.  I’ve never seen anyone take that particular angle on this type of flick.  Not only are we looking at their activities, but their artistic vision as well.  It’s a novel, downright fascinating idea.  As well as they pulled it off, I wish they had taken the concept to its logical end and had the “editor” break the fourth wall and talk to the intended audience about the overall vision of the project.  That would have been an incredible “more meta than meta” moment.  Then again, it may have jeopardized a later plot twist so I can see why that didn’t happen.

One of the fortunate side effects of the flick not going the straight found footage route is that it remains much more visually interesting than most movies of this type.  The lighting changes.  Shots alternate between shaky hand held and static.  Even though it mainly takes place in the same house, the set decoration is such that different areas look different enough that it feels like a bigger movie than it is.  That, students, is how you maximize a miniscule budget (reportedly about a grand).

The two lead actors do an excellent job.  Jules Sciero (as Michael Mashburn) is the best actor in the film.  He manages to give a layered, sometimes even subtle performance in a role that could have easily been played as a cliché.  He’s a great storyteller too.  The viewer is just as engaged when Mash talks about his days in ‘Nam as when he’s eating eyeballs.  Bob Glazier, who plays Twan, goes the more over-the-top depraved route, and he is to be commended in the highest for his absolute fearless commitment to a balls to the wall, no limits performance.  These two have great chemistry and bring a necessary believability to the proceedings.  Cyndi Crotts is very good as Michael’s wife.  The victims range in quality from a game and capable Rue GoreGrinder to the gal who says “you can’t sell my baby” with all the emotion you’d expect from someone saying “no, you can’t have one of my fries.”  That’s to be expected though.  When casting a flick like this what an actress will subject herself to is usually more important than her thespian capabilities.

Now that the legitimate film criticism crap is out of the way, we can get down to what you’re really interested in with a flick like this.  Does it deliver the sickness?  Oh hell yes it does.  I’m about as jaded as they get as far as on screen horrors go, but I was pleasantly surprised at how far this one went.  Murder, torture, necrophilia, cannibalism, degradation, rape (not technically shown), and even coprophagia (turn “safe search” off and Google it if you’re not sure) are the order of the day.  Marcus Koch is responsible for the gore, so you know the messy parts are gonna look good.  It does get messy, too.  We’ve got eyeball extraction, gooified faces, and disembowelment (complete with sexual violation of the entrails) just for starters.  Trust me, this one isn’t for the delicate of constitution or the weak of stomach.

Random Thought #1: “What’s the use of being a rapist if you have to f**k with a condom?” is an early contender for horror quote of the year.

Random Thought #2: On the back of the box they refer to “…vial and heinous manners…”  Vial?  Really?  The word is Vile.  Grammar, people!  Grammar!  Get an editor.  That’s what people like me are for.

Random Thought #3: There’s one scene where the sound effects make it seem more like a bad attempt at humor than the brutal scene it should have been.

Random Thought #4: Man, Rue Goregrinder is hot.

Amerikan Holokaust is a flick with a little something for everyone… provided you’re an explorer of the video fringe with a taste for the extreme and sensibilities that are impossible to offend.  Do you just wanna revel in extreme violence?  Then you’ve come to the right place.  Do you wanna go all film school and delve into social commentary, character study, and cinematic technique?  This flick certainly lends itself to that.  Do you enjoy seeing good actors push themselves past limits most wouldn’t go near?  It’s got that too.  Do you like gratuitous boobs?  Check.  Is diseased old man pecker more your style?  Well, you’re in luck.  Amerikan Holokaust isn’t going to be for all tastes, but those to whom something like this is meant to appeal will definitely dig it.  Nathan says check it out.

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