ZomBlog Review: "Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead"

“Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead”
2008
U.S.
Stars: Jason Yachanin, Kate Graham, Allyson Sereboff, Robin L. Watkins, Joshua Olatunde, Caleb Emerson, , Rose Ghavami and Khalid Rivera
Writers: Gabriel Friedman, Daniel Bova, and Lloyd Kaufman
Dir: Lloyd Kaufman
83 minutes

Let’s just be honest with each other: If you are not familiar with Troma Films, you would lose any trivia game with a semblance of movie-geek trivia against me.
Troma studios have been unleashing tasteless independent classics such as “The Toxic Avenger,” “Class of Nuke ‘Em High” “Troma’s War” and countless others (which will, and have, appeared in this blog before) since way before 1983.
While lacking in a true, based-in-lore, zombie story, Troma does what it does best with “Poultrygeist” — Gut the mainstream.
Warning: If you are offended by redneck, religious, gay/lesbian insults or racial slurs/stereotypes, anti-Semitic jokes, or anything else that would offend absolutely anyone who is too uptight for the human race, just click out of here. Go to youtube and watch cute cat videos. If you have a sense of humor, read on.
So maybe you have seen “Fast Food Nation” or read the book. If you bought into it, you might be a moron (kidding…maybe…maybe not).
Look, we all know that eating fast-food is bad. We don’t need it pounded into our faces, right? We’re smart, right?
Apparently, Troma realized we are morons and decided to take it to the next level.
“Poultrygeist” starts out like many would not expect: A young go-getter, Arbie, is attempting to have sex with his high-school girlfriend, Wendy, (see? They are so subtle over at Troma) while the inhabitants of an Indian graveyard revolt against the thought that their once-peaceful resting place will soon become the site of a new Chicken Bunker — well, the revolt is more of a finger-in-the-ass, and Arbie and Wendy flee.
Fast-forward, and Arbie has done little with his life. He comes home from college, hungry for a job and finds his once-girlfriend, Wendy, joining in a protest against the new Chicken Bunker Restaurant — led by her newfound-college-lesbian-friend, who is heading the protest group called C.L.A.M. — College Lesbians Against Mega-Conglomerates.
In a musical fit of rage (yes, this film is a musical), Arbie decides to piss-off his one-time love by becoming an employee of the Chicken Bunker.
Folks, this is just the first 15 minutes.
What follows is this in a nutshell: A Muslim fry-cook figures out the “chickens have declared Jihad,” on the restaurant, Sloppy Jose’s talk to people, all the while violently spastic food-poisoning body transformation, fake lesbian make-out scenes, many more catchy dance numbers, riffs on films ranging from “Night of the Living Dead” to “Aliens” to “Assault on Precinct 13” take place. In a word, “BatshitCrazy.” But, later, the film hits it stride, welcoming a buttload of pissed-off chicken-faced zombies, who then begin to feast on the clientele. And bloody, gory, insane scenes ensue.
And, despite my open-mind and desire to rise above the apes, I can’t help but chuckle a shitload throughout this grotesque-fest of inappropriate humor.
If you want to offend absolutely everyone you know, show them “Poultrygeist.” If you lose friends, they weren’t friends to begin with.

Romero Rules Followed: Well, this time around, spoiled/rotten/(possessed?) eggs cause the outbreak, and nothing really applies here.
Gore factor: Bonkers. Blood flies more than a Sam Raimi test shoot.
Zombies or Wannabees? First-ever TIE
Classic, fine, or waste of time: Fine
Additional comments: I could never call this P.O.S. a classic, but, you know what? It is damn fun, too much fun for a movie with an IQ level of 50. Sometimes, it is great to just shut off the brain and have fun. This is fun, and not for the thoughtful.
— ROB

ZomBlog Review: "Dawn of the Dead" (2004)

“Dawn of the Dead”
2004
U.S.
Stars: Sarah Polley, Ving Rhames, Jake Weber and Mehki Phifer
Writer: James Gunn
Dir: Zack Snyder
110 minutes (Director’s Cut)

Filmmaking 101 is now in session. It is late in the semester and we are going to discuss the rules of remaking a classic.
First, select a classic, critically-hailed film.
Second, strip it of almost nearly every element that made it a classic.
Third, update characters and situations for the modern audience.
Fourth, focus on what some people found as the sensational factor of the former and ramp it up by 10.
Fifth, pour in more characters and completely compromise the original story.

If you attended a class in college, and these were the notes you scribbled down, not only should you fail outright, but your professor should be beaten to death with his own bag of weed.
Look, I understand this was Zack Snyder’s first film for a big studio. But, for fuck’s sake, if I ever was given a chance to make a film, it certainly would not be in my best interest to remake a highly-revered classic. So, from pre-production to finished product, Snyder had the odds against him.
I will say this about the 2004 “Dawn:” It is entertaining. If I was an ignorant member of the audience, I could see the appeal. It is fast, it gets to the point, there is very little character development, there is a lot of gore, the plot moves along as fast as the fucking undead, and, if my brain is shut down, it could be fun.

But, my fellow droogies, this is “Dawn of the FUCKING Dead.” I grew up lauding Romero’s original as the definitive zombie film, a film that kept in touch with it’s 1970s “talk back at the audience films.” The 1970s were a spectacular era in film. It brought us “Taxi Driver,” “A Clockwork Orange,” “The Godfather,” “Apocalypse Now!,” “Alien,” “The French Connection,” “The Exorcist,” “Rocky,” “Deep Throat,” etc. I could go on for hours.
With the exception of “Deep Throat,” (and an argument can be made there, easily), the 1970s produced films that punched the audience in the face with a message about the sign of the times. The original “Dawn” was far less subtle than its decade’s brethren, but the message was there: Consumerism will be the death of us all.
And, thank you, George, the 1980s proved you a prophet.
However, when you get around to making a modern version of a classic, which indeed had a message, the most irresponsible thing a filmmaker can do is to ignore that completely. There is absolutely no message in the 2004 “Dawn,” other than rednecks are dicks, black people are badass policemen or gang members, guys with long hair own gun shops and have great aim, blondes are either tough or screw a lot, and dogs are never zombie food.

So, here we go. Polley (I loved her in “I, Monster”) plays Ana, a nurse finishing up her shift. She comes home, says hello to a neighbor girl, and then has shower sex with her husband. She wakes up to a very zombiefied little girl rampaging her bedroom, killing and reanimating her husband, and barely escaping as long camera shots, POV camera shots, cameras mounted on vehicle shots, aerial shots, etc. etc., etc., show the audience that all hell is breaking loose. She meets up with Deputy Rhames, whom, really, plays the role with the same one-note he did as Marcellus Wallace in “Pulp Fiction.” He’s big. He’s black. He’s not going skiing.
They wind up finding Mehki Phifer and his pregnant girlfriend, and a Best Buy salesman (Weber) near a shopping mall, where they all decide to secure and wait for help.
The shopping mall and boredom with zombies are about the only parallels this remake has with the former.
However, the remake is not without merits. Polley and Rhames do pretty decent with what they are given, with Rhames taking over Ken Foree’s calm but confident role in the original (Foree shows up and delivers his classic line) and Polley taking over the role of Gaylen Ross. The long-distance rooftop friendship between Rhames and his gun store pal, Andy, had a good premise until a stupid plot point ruined it.
The other characters? Well, there is the kinda smart guy who reveals he was a salesman at Best Buy (again, Weber) and seems to be the smartest guy in the room most of the time. To me, he is a plot device; he moves the key points along, keeps the plot in order, and has very little to offer until the very end.
Once arriving at the mall, the crew of five meet up with three redneck security guards with attitudes and guns (?) and a struggle for power ensues.
And, yeah, later some other people who decided the mall is a good place to go show up. Whatever.

Damn it, this film is a tonal/total mess. It switches back and forth between serious zombie fare and tiny comedic pauses. Yes, pauses, like when you are at Thanksgiving dinner and a great-grandparent makes a racist joke. You feel uneasy, you chuckle just to get past the moment, and then can’t wait to get away from the table. I have argued with my blog counterpart about a key moment in the film (SPOILER ALERT, DO NOT READ FURTHER!) involving the issues of a zombie offspring. I thought it was a cheap attempt at shock; he thinks it should have been explored further. Regardless, the storyline picks elements from Romero’s original — zombies and a mall — and lavishes gore, pointless characters (although an appearance by Matt “Max Headroom” Frewer and now “Modern Family” dad doofus Phil Dunphy [Ty Burrell] were welcome for the few seconds of screen time they had).
I don’t hate this remake. I just don’t like it that much and will not be returning calls.

Romero Rules Followed: Should I even address this? The fuckers run like crackheads aiming for a fix and hardly have a moment to actually feast. *Sigh* They are undead and follow most Romero rules.
Gore factor: A lot, but mostly zombie extermination.
Zombies or Wannabees? The running undead. Again, *sigh* zombies.
Classic, fine, or waste of time: Fine. That’s all I can say.
Additional comments: Had this film been anything other than a remake of the original, I might have been kinder to it. The writer, Gunn, made his name with the Troma Team release of "Redneck Zombies," filmed a stone's throw from where I live in Charles County, Md., but I cannot excuse his lack of reverence. I can’t be kind when you take a classic film, throw it in a van, rape it, make it eat worms, beat it, and then smack it around for good measure. Note to filmmakers: We have seen so much fricken gore, it is not shocking anymore. Making a film more graphic and giving us cardboard actors will not make a better film. Give us people we can relate to/care about. We can watch a clip show of gory scenes and forget it. Give us a three-minute scene of solid dialogue and bad ass characters, and we will adore it. Do you doubt that formula works? See my last post…

— ROB

ZomBlog Review: "Chopper Chicks In Zombietown"

“Chopper Chicks In Zombietown”
1989
U.S.
Stars: Jamie Rose, Catherine Carlen, Lycia Naff, Vicki Frederick, Kristinia Loggia, Martha Quinn, Don Calfa and Billy Bob Thornton Writer: Dan Hokins
Dir: Dan Hoskins
86 minutes

A gang of varyingly attractive girls on motorcycles ride into Zariah, a desert town. They look to get drunk, fight, and, more importantly, laid. Still waiting for the punchline?
Yeah, so was I.
For some reason, I own this low-budget flick. I think it was because Don Calfa, “Ernie” from “The Return of the Living Dead,” played a key role in the film as a mad mortician/entrepreneur, interested in exploiting the nearby mines by implanting “batteries” into the brains of the recently-dead in order to mine “goods” — which never are fully explained.
Then those pesky chicks on motorcycles rolled into town, thwarting all of that with their desire to screw, drink, and fight their way through nearly an hour and a half of excruciatingly bad dialogue, plot devices (a busload of smart-aleck blind orphans?) and … ugh, the most relatable and, arguably, the most attractive member of the bunch, Dede (Rose) seems to be married to (a pre-“Sling Blade” and therefore pre-fame) Billy Bob Thornton.
Yeah, even some of the ugliest leading men need to start somewhere, even if it is a Troma Team release.
While the film starts out with some promise of a fun, goofy, zombie flick (with the zombies showing up about five minutes in — way earlier than most other dreadful films), it falls apart about halfway through, with ham-fisted attempts at character development, too many lesbian/bull-dyke jokes, and Calfa being underused as slapstick relief at the wrong times. And then there are the zombies, which disappear for most of the film only to show up later for the “final battle scenes,” after having an early, amusing introduction (and having their own, annoying marching-theme song).
I really do not want to kick this one in the gaping ass, but sometimes you see an opportunity. This little, low-budgeted mess could have been a contender. It could have worked. It could have impressed even the most fickle of critics. Yet, it fails where it should have capitalized.

Romero Rules Followed: Minor cannibalistic scenes, headshots, the recently dead rise; but the rules followed here are on a very basic level: 2/5.
Gore factor: It has its moments, but moderate.
Zombies or Wannabees? Batteries do not a zombie make.
Classic, fine, or waste of time: Waste of time, unless you enjoy camp over quality.
Additional comments: This little-engine-that-could fails to deliver. To see such talent at decent make-up and special effects wasted pains me. This movie, at times, looked bigger than it should have, seeing it was shot on film with amateurish but passable direction.

— ROB

Are You Getting It? Yeah Zombiegeddon It.

Zombiegeddon
Chris Watson
2003
Handy rule of thumb for any flick: if Uwe Boll pops up in the beginning to warn you – even facetiously – that the movie you’re watching is piece of shit, take his word for it. That guy knows a horrible film when it drops a fresh Cleveland steamer on his face.
Troma’s Zombiegeddon is wretched even when grading on Troma’s depressed curve. I’m not expecting Lloyd Kaufman’s schlock factory to start toting around Oscars for cinematography, but there are large chunks of dialogue in Chris Watson’s film that are drowned out by cicadas. Shots inexplicably shift from night to day between takes. And in one scene, the entire crew is clearly reflected in the screen of a television. I’m just saying, at least pretend for our sakes that you’re trying to make something resembling an actual movie. And the boxed story narrative of local talk radio host Laura Reynolds relating the take of the zombie assault on Tromaville adds very little other than padding it out to the bare minimum for a feature film.
The least Watson could have done was fulfill the title’s promise because there’s definite dearth of ’geddon and almost as little zombie in this movie.

Zombology: According to Zombiegeddon’s obtuse mythology, Satan created zombies to wipe out the human race. The zombies look like ordinary people (probably more for budgetary reasons than narrative) and walk among us until the time comes for them to strike. Only those of God’s chosen bloodline have the wherewithal to end the uprising. Hopefully he shows up in time. I know. I found that needlessly complicated too. And zombies can do kung fu. And heave when winded. And can be choked out with a sleeper hold.

Like just about any Troma film, the best(?) part of Zombiegeddon is playing a game of spot the cameo. Tom Savini, playing a man who claims to be Jesus, has the brains to know better than to appear in such dreck. Joe Estevez, playing Satan’s favorite zombie sidekick and possibly gay lover, lacks the dignity to know any better. Christ, can Martin Sheen use some pull to help a brother out?
Because it scrimps on the zombie chills, we’re forced to endure Zombiegeddon’s futile attempts at sub-Killer Tomatoes levels of humor. Pretty much every joke boils down to: “Lulz ur ghey.” With the witty riposte: “Nuh uh, ur ghey-er.” The relentless homophobia largely comes from Cage and Jeff, two dirty cops who spend the bulk of the movie driving around Tromaville gunning down innocent bystanders rather than actually fighting crime or addressing the zombie outbreak that seems to center around the local junior college. But honestly, who really cares about the plot of a Troma film?
I can conceive of theoretical physicists who may have a perverse incentive to study Zombiegeddon’s inexplicable ability to make 75 minutes feel like two hours. But for everyone else, avoid like a zombie outbreak. This film is 96 percent as bad as Hell of the Living Dead.

ZomBlog Review: "I Was a Teenage Zombie"

“I Was a Teenage Zombie”
1987
U.S.
Stars: Michael Rubin, Ignacio F. Iquino (as Steve McCoy), George Seminara, Cassie Madden
Writer: James Aviles Martin, Steve McCoy, George Seminara
Dir: John Elias Michalakis
91 minutes

“Hewn head-halves and ripped faces make for a rollicking comedy. Not for the faint of heart.”
I remember reading those words printed in the “Video Unlimited” flyer we received from the “mom and pop” type retailer my family frequented in old Rockville, Md. Someone in that store wrote up tiny, encapsulated reviews, and, almost always, they were positive. Ah, my first experiences in a capitalistic society almost always come back to my video store experiences.
It happens, folks. Most of what you will read from your humble reviewer harkens back to those archaic days before Netflix, or even Cockblocker Video (or, as my counterpart, Andrew, calls them Lackluster Video).
So, having read that snippet as a young impressionable boy, I saw, “hewn head-halves” and “not for the faint of heart” and I pushed my chips all in. I had to see this UNRATED flick.
My poor mother did not know what unrated meant. And, as we sat in the family room after having rented this sucker, my father, surprisingly in toe, she regretted not knowing almost immediately. Not for the mature content (which, later, she may have), but for the lack of a polished production that beset us.
I had yet to be old enough to view “The Toxic Avenger” on my own. I had not seen a single low-budgeted film and had nothing with which to compare “Teenage Zombie.” So, my palette was clean.
For better or worse, I gobbled this sucker up, and will, upon consecutive, more age-appropriate viewings, continue to do so.
It may not have the Troma Film stamp of approval, but it should. “I Was a Teenage Zombie” is a love letter to like-named films of the 1950s (“I Was a Teenage Werewolf,” “I Was a Teenage Frankenstein,” etc.). It even takes place mostly in a soda-jerk restaurant, one character is dressed as Steve McQueen on his worst day and the eyeglasses-wearing characters are not going to get the girl anytime soon (well, one almost does…prior to heavy-breathing zombie-rape).
Meet Dan Wake (Rubin), along with his best, and slightly-chubby pal, Gordy, and his pals Chuckie, Rosencrantz, and, (the rather chubby and overall comic relief) Lieberman.
The chums are looking forward to the “big dance” at their high school, and the only thing that is missing is … “marajahoobie.” And, all the time, Dan is trying to court the lovely and (almost) aptly named Cindy Faithful, the token blonde, buxom girl-next-door. And he has some success to some degree, and had just seemed to catch her interest until some zombie staggers onto the scene and ruins it all.
Gordy fatefully learns that Mussolini (“or as my friends call me ‘Moose’”), in debt to a big-time mob boss, is the only guy in a dry town to be carrying any weight. Gordy collects cash from his buddies and buys what turns out to be chemically-sprayed joints that are more worthless than Phillies Blunts sans weed. And when The Bird (a comically overacting, leather jacket-wearing, bouffant-sporting “bad ass” that reminds me more of a teen Christopher Walken rather than Steve McQueen) learns the boys have been ripped-off, he demands they find some way to get their money back. Gordy attempts to ask Moose for the money back, and gets his chubby arse kicked.
Oh, by the way, a nuclear power plant in nearby New Jersey has suffered a meltdown, and former plant worker, “Lloyd Kaufman,” is quoted in radio broadcasts as to the severity of the meltdown before he tragically falls into a vat of nuclear waste (wink, wink, nudge, nudge to Troma fans).
After Gordy shows up bloody and beaten, the teens, led by the tough-talking The Bird, plan to exact revenge and get their money back. They ambush Moose in a park and, in a series of scenes that “The Three Stooges” would have tipped their hats to, the kids corner Moose, and Dan Wake makes a home-run hit with a bat (complete with color commentary and uniform), knocking Moose unconscious, leaving them with a moral dilemma: the fucker might wake up. So, they dump him into the river…and, being Jersey, even without a nuclear meltdown, dumping a body into a river could never be a good idea.
They learn a few weeks later that Moose, having been reanimated as a result of the nuclear waste leaking into the river, is a walking, talking, strong-as-hell zombie who wants to destroy everything and everyone in his path. The teenagers set up a nearly identical ambush on Moose — this time failing, as Moose dodges Dan’s stellar swing, and winds up breaking Dan’s neck.
Dan Wake will later appear at his own wake…Bazinga.
Rosencrantz and Gordy realize Moose is not what he once was, connect the dots, and decide if a reanimated Moose is a bad ass, a reanimated Dan Wake, with all of his athletic abilities, must make for a perfect hero to take out Moose.
Naturally, they decide to raid Dan’s funeral, steal his body, and throw it into the river, reanimating a very confused Dan. Once he is told who he is, what he is, and what he is needed to do, Dan is forced to live in the soda-jerk stand’s basement and hide from everything he loved — or was at least trying to get a piece of (not in the zombie sense…ZING!), including Ms. Faithful.
Cue the sad violin music and the film’s attempt (although obviously an insincere attempt) at a tragic love story, which, thankfully, only gives slight motivation for Dan to do what he was reanimated to do and not to pursue zombie secks…
Which, um, does happen in this film. Moose does take a horny teenage girl, throw her on the hood of a car and proceed to zombie f*** her. And, friends, even though it was done for laughs, the “wishbone” climax is still disturbing to this day.
Overall, “I Was a Teenage Zombie” is more of an homage to the 1950s “teen” subgenre rather than an ode to zombie film lore. So….

Romero Rules Followed: No biting, no flesh eating (other than a single tongue gorging) and all the “zombies” talk. 2.0 on the scale, admitting they were at least dead once and killing the brain kills them.
Gore factor: Plenty and well done considering the budget, although some gore scenes were obviously done for gags rather than gross-out.
Zombies or Wannabees? Teeter-totter, but wannabe.
Classic, fine, or waste of time: Fine
Additional comments: This is simply a fun, goofy, have a few beers or tokes type of film. All involved obviously had a great time doing it, and, give it to them, they created a film in the 1980s that could be confused easily with a 1950s schlock-fest.

— ROB