Friday, April 28, 2017


I've always aspired to be some sort of a writer. That's where putting this blog together comes in. Even though I never would have thought that my main focus would be horror films, collecting them or even "reviewing" them (I still don't consider these things reviews) working on this Cinema Slayer blog has really been a positive outlet for me, even though none of you deadbeats probably give two shits anyway. The reason I'm mentioning this in any capacity at all is because our main guy in House, Roger Cobb moves into a house that his aunt believed was haunted while she was alive. He needs his solitude to work on his new book pertaining to his experiences being involved in the Vietnam war, and of course while he's living there, monsters and weirdos start trying to grab at him from out of his closet and other insane happenings. The practical effects in this film are second to none, and when Big Ben comes back towards the end to exact his revenge on Roger for letting him die in the war, he's the coolest most detailed looking zombie I've ever seen. Seriously. I think that might be where Slayer got their dead solider design from for some of their t-shirts. Compare the two. You'll see what I mean.

    Victorian houses are the shit.

Grocery delivery boys don't get paid very well.

Sick art is the best art.

Rabid book fans... every community has bottom feeders.

What an inheritance.

This real estate agent has got some nerve shooting a harpoon at a potential buyer.

Living in a house that huge by myself would creep me the fuck out.

"You wanna go where everybody knows your name..."

War is hell, and then you blast charlie in a rice patty!

Literally a monster in the closet-now that's great stuff!

Harold really wants to put that sausage in his mouth.

Shit Roger... you've really done it this time.

If you've never seen House, at first viewing you're going to think that this is some type of shitty paranormal flick with no substance and no character. You would be sorely mistaken. House has everything going for it, and now that there is a complete blu-ray set with all of them, now is the time to experience them. I don't even have a copy of it, but it's on my list. If I had to choose between watching all four of these films or watching the show House with Hugh Laurie, I'm picking this. Mainly because it's horror and the t.v. show is dumb. Yeah, I said it. House the t.v. show is dumb. Stop crying, we all have our own opinions.      

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Hellraiser: Hellseeker (blu-ray)

As a franchise, Hellraiser in general is just legendary. As a horror icon, Pinhead kicks so much evil ass that Satan probably won't even touch him. This series has some similar potholes such as going into space and young'ins getting roped into a community of gamers that play a really shitty online pc game named Hellworld. But those are just side films that are fun to watch if your really in the mood for them, but Hellraiser: Hellseeker really blew me away. Last night was the first time I had a chance to watch this (I've had the blu-ray for quite awhile, and I've just never popped it in) and the first half of the film is just absolutely confusing. I was about ready to chalk this up as being the worst sequel in the franchise until Pinhead finally shows up and starts straightening things out in the story. Up until this point, everything was pointing towards a disjointed mess of memories and events that Trevor (or the audience) really can't make heads or tails out of. This is the part where you see what Kirsty did with Pinhead to twist the story before anything in the film even happens, and this reveal made me a fan of this part of the series immediately. 

Learn to drive, assclown.

F this noise, I'm terrified of drowning.

Talk about Brain Salad Surgery.

That music is never loud enough.

   Mind your own business you scummy bastard.

 Fucked up vending machines, flickering lights, sexually aggressive women-what the hell kind of an office is this?

Don't try swallowing an eel whole next time. You're not talented enough for that.

Huh. So sex and violence do go together.

Pinhead is definitely the grand master of acupuncture.

Sexiest cup of sugar that any neighbor has ever asked for.

Trevor, you don't want that box.

Pain or pleasure, sir? How about potato chips.

 Out of all of the Hellraiser sequels (that I've watched anyway) Hellraiser: Hellseeker really raised the bar for me in terms of a franchise being stretched to thin before no one cares anymore. Sometimes it only takes maybe the third film before things turn sour, but this is the sixth film in this series and I felt like this should have been number four. Forget when Pinhead goes into space or sets people up in Saw-like traps. This is the sequel that the diehards need to see. It reveals more about the main girl Kirsty, and what she does to get back at her husband for being a selfish prick. Like I stated earlier zits and zombies-when the twist comes, you never even see it because the film makes you think this is what's happening when the real plot is just around the corner. Just make sure you have a flashlight and be prepared to choose between pain or pleasure. Or get a bag of chips from the vending machine. Either way, you have to atone for what you've done.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

The Windmill

I can't believe that I almost forgot that I had a set of notes for The Windmill just waiting to be processed into a post for you guys here. Technically, this film is supposed be be a part of the ever growing ocean of horror flicks that has the word "massacre" accompanying it, but I'm glad it was dropped for the sake of simplicity and avoiding being pigeon-holed. Now at first glance of the cover art, this conjures up feelings of not wanting to bother. It just looks so generic and flat. And The Windmill starts off pretty promising with building itself up into something that seems like it's going to be a unique indie film with it's own taste... until it starts riddling itself with horror cliches' when the tour bus all of a sudden won't start after Jennifer thinks she sees some guy in the middle of the path they are driving on and makes a ruckus so as the driver won't hit him. Man, that was a mouthful. The only positive thing I can really say about The Windmill is that the kills are really cool and surprisingly gory compared to what I expected, but this just ended up being another sluggish modern slasher that I really just tossed into the okay category when the credits started rolling.  

Light that shit up!

I had a babysitter named Julie when I was growing up.

No worries dude. I'm not a good artist either.

That red light district, though.


Everyone looks so thrilled to be on this tour of Holland.

I can't wait to see what other horror cliches' are stuffed into this mess of a stromboli.

   Oh, no! A ghostly windmill! Whatever will we do??

Head-stomp right in the middle of the forest. I'm not even mad, I'm impressed.

You ain't goin' no wheas....

Time to see your grandma, kid. With an off-screen kill.

What a wuss. You puked.

 This has been getting a lot of praise, and to it's credit I respect that. But, it wasn't for me. The Windmill just didn't get me riled up enough to care about any of the characters or what was going to happen to them later on. The plot felt all over the place, and the climax had sort of a "let's get this finished" feel to it that turned me off towards the end. I know, zits and zombies-the tour of Holland was a ploy to get random people to end up at the windmill so it can kill everyone. The bus driver wasn't even really all that creepy. He was just some fat, smelly bastard that hadn't shaved in five days and needed to buy a new bottle of Axe shower gel. Hell, they might not even have that over there. Besides some fantastic cinematography with the open landscape, some really cool windmills and some gory kills, there really isn't anything new or groundbreaking to witness here. Horror purgatory it is. 

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

The Girl on the Train

My wife and I are always suggesting movies and t.v. shows to one another that we are discovering while the other one is off at work or something. She recently told me about The Girl on the Train a couple of weeks ago, and I finally got around to watching it on Kodi so I could take some notes. It didn't sound like horror-it sounded more like some kind of drama-thriller type thing, which isn't normally what I go looking for or what I would normally want to jot some shit down about for you zits and zombies here on Cinema Slayer, but it's good to change things up once in a while. I also found out that it's based on a novel as well, which always intrigues me because the film version of a book is usually pretty different. The Girl on the Train is basically this insane web that's woven between three women-Rachel, Megan and Anna. They are all connected to each other, mainly because one douche-bag can't keep it in his pants for lack of a better phrase. I really can't expunge to many details because it will just ruin the frailty of experiencing this film-all I can say is that I was pretty blown away by the story, characters, and just how everything plays out. Great stuff if you're in the mood to put your nose in someone's business that it shouldn't be. 

She became important to you because of the wretches of daily routine.

Dude looks like Heath Ledger.

Stop living in that bottle.

I would love to just live off the grid.

  These chicks are just falling apart more and more everyday.

Laura Prepon? Hell yeah!

Damn, that's a gorgeous house.

Alcohol always brings people to the darkest places.

It's not adding up, Rachel.

Gettin' some wood in the woods. Classy.

I dated a nympho once. It's not as fucking fun as you think it is.

Cops always need evidence. Just evidence.

Wow... that's a tragically powerful way to lose a baby.

The Girl on the Train ultimately ends up being one of those very well written and produced thriller flicks that suck you in right at the beginning, and won't spit you out until the curtains close at the credits. You get addicted to wanting to know what's going to happen next or where the story is going to take these people, and you want to be in that side car along with them-experiencing every tear, every drunken stupor and every lie that gets told. A rarity lies in this (at least for me) where you actually want there to be a sequel. But you know what? This was so well sewn up that if there is a sequel, I probably won't watch it. There's nowhere else for these three women to go. So do yourself a favor and buy a ticket for the next ride on this train... it's a tragic yet satisfying experience.   

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Friday The 13th Part III: 3-D

There's an overabundance of 80's horror films and franchises, but one of my personal favorite series' is most assuredly the Friday The 13th franchise. The original four at the beginning are slasher cornerstones, and five through eight bring Jason right back for some highly entertaining (if stupid) killing time that hardcore fans of the series always just salivate over. Back when I first started this journey here on Cinema Slayer, I wrote a post about my personal favorite in the series, which still stands as Friday The 13th Part VII: The New Blood. Mainly because in that film, main girl Tina finds out when she's young that she possesses some telekinetic powers that enable her to manipulate the environment around her just by thinking about what she wants to do or move or what have you, and it ends up being one shitty bad time for Jason. He gets burned, nails stabbed in his face and all kinds of other craziness due to Tina just wanting his ass dead. My second favorite in the franchise has always been part III. Really, I don't have any real explanation why. It sort of just segues the viewer into part IV because all you want to happen is just to have these people die. Especially Shelly. He's fat, annoying, and has a horrible self-esteem problem. Hell, so do I, but it's nowhere near as bad as this guy. Maybe I really enjoy Friday The 13th Part III: 3-D because this is when Jason finally levels up into icon status. This is the film where he finally gets the hockey mask. Forget that crappy burlap sack with one eye hole. It's time to kill-kill-kill, die-die-die.

Jason always listens to mother.

He should be dead...right?

Aww, shut up. And take out those hair rollers. You look like a pissed off ferret.

Who are you, Jason? The Shape?! Do your own thing, man!

Eating yourself out of business. Now that's hysterical.

Dumping and drinking. I think you forgot to wipe, bro.

The van's not on fire, you just have Cheech and Chong in the back.

   I want a van with blue shag carpet on the inside of all of the doors.

What a sick joke. You fat fuck.

Men who juggle don't get laid. Sorry boss.

 I've sat down with an ice cold beer and watched Friday The 13th Part III: 3-D many times, but you know what-I've never bothered to try it in actual 3-D. Missed opportunity. Next time I give it a spin, I'll put those red and blue glasses on and see what it's all about. I don't really know how much better watching a three-piece biker gang and a bunch of dumb teens getting killed by Jason in 3-D really is going to be, but it's not if it's good or not... it's if you have a good time. That's what those novelty ideas are all about. Adding to the experience of having a good time. And I think now that's what Friday The 13th Part III: 3-D is actually about-just sitting down, watching people getting slaughtered and having a good time. Make that into a drinking game. Every time I've written "having a good time" in this post (including just now) take a shot. And go watch Shelly get destroyed by Jason as he transforms into a horror icon. What a sacrifice that he made. Thank you Shelly for giving Jason his iconic hockey mask. He is forever in your debt. You fat, juggling loser.  

Monday, April 10, 2017


The very first thing I want to do when I look at my notes for Greetings is to just cry. Just, you know... ball my eyes out for twenty minutes. Get all of my self-hate, self-loathing, and all of my insecurities out. Just get everything out in the open. Because I need to make all the extra space in the whole wide world between my lungs and what's left of my heart to fill it with the greenest, darkest, most putridly vile anger that I can possibly concoct to stain the "reputation" that this film has (if it even has one) to the point of making Brain Damage Films go out of business. That's right. This is one of those flicks where I wondered how it even made it past the writing process. Hell, even the idea process. Here it is, zits and zombies-nothing in this film works. It's broken. It's so goddamn lame that I'd rather start going back to church again than ever having to think about this Euro-trash for the rest of my pathetic life. Literally 95% of this film is a bunch of British nit-wits sitting in someone's living room blabbing on and on and on and on about whatever the fuck they want to. They drink ass-loads of wine and coffee, see a floating upside down table... and then I proceeded to drown myself in a glass vat of hydrochloric acid. 

A little bubbly for the birthday.

What a cheesy ass speech. Get out of here.

Brits do love the smell of fresh paint, yeah? I mean, they watch it dry on t.v. for Satan's sake.

This is seriously the most boring birthday party I've ever seen. Falling down the stairs and spraining my ankle is more exciting than this shit.

Damn bro, wanna get hammered?

Oujia isn't supposed to work with a fucking wine glass. Wow.

Somebody just said they thought a window was open! Jesus Christ.

What broke into the house?! A chicken??

Yeah-spraying Febreeze is going to help out so much.

In all seriousness, the first 50-60 minutes of this "movie" (it's 71 in total by the way) is all of the main characters sitting around in some blonde bitch's living room talking about nothing and getting shit-faced off wine. That is it. Nothing fucking happens. On and off, the guys that are there play this really crappy version of Oujia with a wine glass and some flat piece of rusted metal, and then a table in the living room is all of a sudden floating upside down. Then more talking for the rest of eternity until some magical white light starts killing people. And that's all there is to it. I'm going to leave you zits and zombies with this-putting my hairy ball-sack into my wife's Nightmare Before Christmas themed nutcracker and pushing the tab on the back as hard as I possibly can down on my nuts and going to the ER would be more fun than fucking watching Greetings ever again. If you want to watch a good birthday horror flick, go find Bloody Birthday or Happy Birthday To Me. At least then you could have your cake and eat it too.

Sunday, April 9, 2017

Blonde Death (Bleeding Skull! dvd)

Every individual out there gets angry or has pent up aggression about something. Every family unit has issues to a certain extent. James Dillinger was "the angriest gay man in the world" and the only way he could express himself was through the art of film. Blonde Death goes all over the place trying to show it's true colors to the rest of the world, and I have to say-it does one helluva great job. This film is foaming at the brim with sexual tension (gay and straight), energetic teenage hormones, religious fanaticism, alcoholism, guns, escaped convicts... seriously. The events that take place in Tammy's life before the end of this film had the eyes in my head spinning like a dreidel on Hanukkah. The drama and close to life feel of everything that happens to these characters in Blonde Death made me almost feel like I couldn't even keep up with what was happening. The way that Link and Tammy end up together when everything is said and done is just a little too real. And a tad bit sad. When you look at this film through a microscope, it really is just a messed up situation of a really attractive young blonde woman that wants to live her life the way she wants without an over-bearing religious step-mother and her always drunken father being selfish assholes trying to control her. Tammy is just looking for a way out, and then she ends up falling in love with this guy named Link. Who just escaped from prison. They have lots of sex. Link's prison buddy wants to bang him in the ass (literally) in Tammy's living room. Tammy wants to shoot herself on the beach. They stop her. I can't spoil anything else for you, but the build-up to the end is astronomical and you really just have to pick up a copy of Blonde Death for yourself.  

Hot, tired and cranky. All females feel all of those together at some point. And so do we.

Who knew that there was an SOV version of Dabney Coleman.

 I don't think Jesus loves a bitch like you.

"Nice girls fuck. F-U-C-K fuck!"

Capital punishment. While listening to shitty Jesus music. Religion makes me want to kill people.

Sounds like dad's a little fruity if he's dressing up like Scarlett O'Hara.

 Spending the summer with Christ sounds like a fucking horrible waste of nine weeks.

I never knew lesbians could be so aggressive.

Hot, baby oil hand-jobs. Hmm. I need one of those.

Does it matter, bro? She wants the D.

It's always a party when domestic violence makes an appearance.

     I've watched and digested a lot of SOV films (horror or not) in the last batch of however many years now, and I'll just say this zits and zombies-Blonde Death gets my personal stamp for being the most coherent and best constructed. Yes, it's still a barely known piece of art, yes it's pretty underground and yes, most film buffs are either going to bypass it as "80's trash" or dismiss it as "amateur hour"... but that will never detract it from what it really is. A slice of James Dillinger expressing himself through the art of film. Really, Blonde Death is just a sad story of a young woman named Tammy that never had a real chance at living her life after the prime age of 18 because she ended up having a really horrible home life. I pretty much know nothing about James, but I'm guessing that this film was his mirror in a way to deflect some things in his life that he would have rather not have dealt with when he was alive. I'm sorry things had to end this way. But sometimes life gives you lemons that you can't make into lemonade. And when there's nothing left to drink, delirium takes you on a wrong turn. Thank you, James. Too bad you'll never be able to see this.     

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Spaced Invaders (VHS)

We never realize it until we've already committed a wrongful action. But life is full of regret sometimes, and leaving the VHS of Spaced Invaders sitting on my shelf for almost two years without watching it was a harsh crime that I had stacked against myself. I can't believe that I had such a great time sitting there just waiting for me to slide it on into my VCR. I can't even begin to tell you zits and zombies how blown away I was at how silly and incredibly energetic this film is. Spaced Invaders was released in 1990, but it could have easily been set out to land here on earth sometime between 1987-1989, and the film wouldn't even had come close to an identity crisis. Everything contained herein works so well for this film, especially the special effects and animatronics. The robotics employed for the aliens is just downright superb, and lends itself to being super cheesy while still making it feel like the aliens actually are there in front of everyone that's trying to run them off of earth. In addition to that mountain, the acting, script and characters seriously came straight out of a cartoon, and the slapstick just plows right through all the way to the end to create one of the most entertaining cult comedy sci-fi films that I've watched in a very long time. I was lucky with this one because it was a total blind buy-the cover and the screen shots on the back of the box sold me almost immediately. 

Inspired by Star Wars, dildo shaped starships!

Mr. Handy?! What the hell?

Big Bean, Illinois? There's no such town. I live here dammit.

Hardest working cop in Illinois. Sitting on a bench drinking some Coca-Cola.

  Starship goes boom!!!

What costume is she wearing? She looks like Ihsahn from the black metal band Emperor.

  Churches don't support Halloween. It's the devil to them.

You gotta have some balls to ask your wife if she's dead yet. Sheeeesh.

I used to eat dog treats. When I was 2.

"Well kids. 3-D glasses and driving don't mix."

  Ok, now I'm adding a world domination kit to my list of "things I need to rid society" with.

 The quick wit and speedy pace of Spaced Invaders adds up to being one helluva fun sci-fi comedy flick. I was honestly smiling and chuckling through the entire film once I started to realize that this isn't your average recipe of "silly aliens trying to take over the world". No, no, no. These boys know how to liven things up. Especially since when they crash land, it's smack dab in the middle of Halloween. Couldn't have been any more perfect. My final squeeze from this hearty cyst stands that this turned out to be one of the most rambunctious, over-the-top, over exaggerated early 90's films that I've watched in a long time. The body of Spaced Invaders encapsulates the 90's spirit of fun film making. I highly recommend you zits and zombies grab this for your collection. Any flavor. Rodge-o.

Monday, April 3, 2017

Scary Tales (Bleeding Skull! dvd)

Just like any other sub-genre of horror, anthology horror flicks can flop. Scary Tales never flops. It flips. See, what takes place here is that some really dark hooded figure reads these weird "scary tales" to these children that are just hungry to hear about some guy turning into a devil because of a satanic necklace, a guy that goes on a murderous rampage because he discovers his wife is cheating on him, and some selfish jackass that won't play catch with his tub-of-butter son because he's so obsessed with getting to level 21 on some PC game that looks eerily like Might and Magic: Swords of Xeen; that he actually gets sucked into the game for real and he has to fight ninjas and get kicked in the shin by some asshole gnome-dwarf guy. The main reason Scary Tales flips instead of flops is because it had me glued with anticipation to see what kind of unearthed shenanigans I was going to get myself into this time. If watching some fat redneck guy listening to music on a cassette walkman, swigging beer and yelling for his wife-"Hey Bernice, get me another Beer!" doesn't get you the slightest bit interested, then this film isn't for you. Oh, this dude also gets his head crushed in by a man's two bare hands, his eyes literally pop out of their sockets, and the camera zooms in on his belly button to transition to the next scene. Scary Tales has got class. And a bit of good taste.

Satan's necklace? What jewelry store is that sold at?

Geraldo as a bartender? Some fat loser in a green shirt drinking beer? A shitty garage punk/metal band noise-ing it up in the background? SOV madness!

"I deal with more assholes than a proctologist."

Dirt, rocks, and a yoohoo bottle cap.

The devil is in you, bro.

Mullets, turtle necks, mini skirts-this film is loaded!

"What does a blonde and a computer have in common? You don't appreciate them until they go down on you!"

Damn Satan, you've got some horrible dragon's breath. Go to the powder room and swish around some Listerine, yeah?

Usually women bitch about not spending time with their other half. Not the men. Grow a sack, sir.

The dashboard in John's car kicks ass. Especially since we have to be in his backseat staring at it through the camera for an eternity.

   This isn't even close to being the greatest anthology horror flick I've ever watched. Nor does it have to be. All it has to do is make me smile and keep me guessing what kind of hilarious and ridiculous acts are going to take place before the show is over. Scary Tales delivers, and I honestly don't even give a shit that there is no wrap around to go along with it. The only thing close to that that's presented here is that hooded figure that might be death in physical form. There is no explanation. No reason. No back story. Just some evil looking shadow with a hood and two large red, glowing eyes that reads the three tales to the kids. That's all there is, and that's all you'll ever need. I extend my fleshy hand in thanks to Bleeding Skull! and Mondo for putting this film into print. Sorry to cut this short, but I have to find my mix tape from the 80's with Olivia Newton John, The Eurythmics and A-HA. Yeah I know. I don't care. I want to get physical. Bite me.