Eaten Alive (1977): or, See You Later, Crocodile

It's not breaking any big news in the blogosphere to say that Tobe Hooper is a director with a rather...problematic filmography. After he famously caught lightning in a bottle with his justly revered debut effort, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Hooper was quickly lumped in with contemporaries John Carpenter and Wes Craven (and often slightly pre-contemporary George A. Romero) as one of the Next Great Horror Directors.

But while his other classmates went on to forge bodies of work adhering to recognizable levels of excellence in form, theme, and style, Hooper seemed to go a little crazy. All but abandoning the gritty, realistic style for which his first film was praised to hell and back, Hooper went on to tackle such subjects as space vampires, exploding humans, and possessed laundry presses, all in a dayglo, EC comics style about as far removed from the "documentarian" laurels of TCM as one could imagine. Certain recurrent themes popped up in every third or fourth film--the Outsider Family being perhaps the most recognizable--but even his follow-up to the movie that put him on the map had more of the comics page and less of the found footage mystique than fans and critics could make themselves comfortable with.*

*I don't mean to suggest that his efforts in this vein don't have their fans--I know TCM 2 is well loved by a certain viewing segment, and while I appreciate the original TCM for its historical significance and stylistic impact, I find myself watching and enjoying Hooper's The Funhouse much more often and vehemently. I only posit that their stylistic difference from the director's best-loved effort works for some to their detriment.

I count myself a fan of Hooper's post-TCM output, for the most part (I'm one of the few I know who really, really liked his Toolbox Murders redux, for instance), and the more of his work I watch, the more convinced I am that people looking for a return to the TCM style and calling everything else "atypical" are coming at things bassackwards. Because that EC Comics color was there, if not from the very beginning, certainly from Hooper's second horror film and today's review, the 1977 backwoods psycho/killer croc movie Eaten Alive. It seems clear now that TCM was the anomaly.

Mama Harper never told the Family what she did before she met their daddy.

We open with a tight close-up of a belt buckle, so already I'm in love. (The only other movie I know that opens this way, Pick-Up, was absolutely batshitastic.) We then find ourselves in a suitably grimy scene in a backwoods whorehouse, where new girl Clara (Roberta Collins) has been chosen to receive the attentions of Louisiana Lothario Buck (a very young and gangly Robert Englund). After the young gentleman introduces himself with the appropriate formality and dignity--I believe the exact phrase is, "My name is Buck, and I'm ready to fuck!"--they sashay upstairs to get down to bidness. However, when Buck reveals his hankerin' to take a drive up La Strada Chocolata, Clara calls the whole thing off and has to be replaced by two of her coworkers--as part of the longstanding whorehouse policy, "satisfaction guaranteed or double your pussy back." Downstairs Clara sobs to the madame, Miss Hattie (Carolyn Jones, later Queen Hippolyta of TV's Wonder Woman!), "Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a hooker!" Agreeing, Miss Hattie sends to failed courtesan packing into the swampy wilderness.

The only other place to rent a room is apparently "The Twilight," a bed-and-breakfast in the middle of the swamp that has clearly seen better days. Proprietor Judd (an excellently unhinged Neville Brand) lives there alone except for the unexplained mannequin in his bedroom (ooer) and the tourist-attraction he has penned in the water off the porch, a 15-foot crocodile! (Which ain't like an alligator, Judd explains, in that they'll eat just about anything they can get their teeth around. Because alligators, as we all know, are nature's most finicky eaters.) Recognizing Clara from Miss Hattie's place, Judd woos her with even less subtlety than Buck, which leads to a surprisingly brutal beating for Clara followed by a tumble down the stairs and then a rake to the rack that leaves her bloody and broken but still breathing. Horrified by this turn of events, Judd does the only reasonable thing--he pushes Clara over the porch railing to be eaten by the croc, then goes for the mop to clean up the blood.

The Rake and the Ho.

By this time the aesthetic of the movie is well established, and seems to inhabit a stylistic country somewhere between Bava and Creepshow. Everything is lit in stark blue or red gels, giving a somewhat unreal, expressionistic tone to the piece, very like a comic book. Adding to the comic book vibe is the absolute over-the-topness of the characters on display, from harem-keeper Miss Hattie, who dresses and acts like an old-fashioned accountant/telegraph transcriber (complete with vest and green visor), to Englund's cartoonish redneck, to the super-stereotypical "wise old black woman" brothel maid, culminating in Judd's bug-eyed, mealy-mouthed, paranoiac villain.

The OTT train doesn't stop there, either. Despite its evident remote location, after the first murder business really picks up at The Twilight, with each new arrival adding to the cast of comic book characters. Bickering vacationers Roy and Faye (William Finley and TCM final girl Marilyn Burns) arrive along with adorable moppet Angie (Kyle Richards, who also appears as a cute kid in Carpenter's Halloween and joined Victor French in the recently-mentioned sitcom Carter Country) and her terrier Snoopy. Literally within moments of their disembarkment, Snoopy becomes a bite-sized croc-treat and Angie falls into a trauma-induced coma, leading to many vicious hubby-recriminations from Faye and climaxing when daddy Roy, out of nowhere, starts barking like a dog, deepening his daughter's emotional scars.

Nature is Cruel, Charlie Brown

Shortly thereafter another couple arrives, father/daughter duo Harvey and Libby Wood (Mel Ferrer and Crystin Sinclaire), who are looking for Libby's wayward sis Clara. What are the chances? While Libby is kind and polite to the crazier-by-the-minute Judd, Harvey wastes no time insulting everyone within shouting distance, including Sheriff Martin (character actor Stuart Whitman), for being useless in the search for his missing child.

When the Woods drop their bags and head off to the local "prostitution house" to make inquiries, the vactioners take up their marital strife with renewed venom, suggesting that Roy may have got into Hooper's coke stash in the interim--after pretending to crush his wife's head in his hands, Roy shouts such non sequiturs as "Why don't you just take your cigarette and grind it out IN MY EYE?" and "What do you want me to do, throw myself to the alligators? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?" When Roy melodramatically goes out to hunt the terrier-gulping croc with the shotgun he happened to have packed along with his golf clubs, it's no surprise to anyone that Judd helps him out with that last bit of prophecy.

"My last girlfriend said I had abandonment issues. What do you think?"

The movie has never rested easily on any narrative rails, and at this point jumps them completely. Judd reveals his heretofore unmentioned wooden leg, implying that the croc et it at some point in the distant past. He engages in a couple of odd soliloquies before attacking mom Faye, again beating her rather brutally before gagging her and tying her to a bed, then running off to hunt the revived and fleet-of-foot Angie, who hides under the house and shows herself more resourceful than any other character in keeping (the fuck) away from the innkeeper. The Captain Hook/Peter Pan subtext in the Judd/Angie relationship here should be obvious even to the casual viewer.

After a strange interlude at the whorehouse, Daddy Wood heads back to the Twilight and Libby stays with Sheriff Martin, developing a could-be-romantic, could-be-Father Figure relationship with the kindly older man. Libby and Martin have dinner at the local pool hall, where Buck--who is still quite prepared to engage in sexual intercourse--and some of his rowdy friends harass a scrappy Nice Kid before getting kicked out. (One of the redneck crew, Marlowe, played by David 'Goat' Carson, is a Manson-esque nut who I wish had been in it more, but quickly disappears.) Back at the Twilight, Harvey gets a scythe through the neck courtesy of Judd, who then plays tug-of-corpse with the crocodile in a weird splatstick scene.

"Blue Öyster Cult, you are so full of shit!"

While Faye screams and writhes against her bonds upstairs, Judd tries and fails to capture Angie under the house, finally getting the bright idea to loose the crocodile under there to either flush her out or take care of the problem the Darwinian way. He's interrupted when Buck and the slutty pool hall waitress return to stress-test some bed springs, giving some nice Robert Englund tighty-whitey shots for the ladies. The dudes fare better, as Lynette heads up to her room, gets completely nekkid, and wanders around aimlessly for several scenes that define both the words "gratuitous" and "zang."

There's a lot of weirdness in this movie, and it's accentuated by several gleefully odd directorial flourishes. I've already mentioned the constant red and blue gels, which continue to give the visuals a comic book gothic style. The soundtrack, composed mostly it seems of country-western murder ballads, is surprisingly effective and adds to the disturbing ambience. And a late scene in which Judd is tormented by a chorus of female groans--sexual from Buck's partner, horrified from the bound-and-gagged Faye, helpless from Angie under the house--made me more than a little uncomfortable. There's also a through-the-woods chase that climaxes in a pickup truck pick-up that seems to be something out of another--which is to say, a very specific other--movie.

Freddy's Erotic Nightmares

The slam-bang finale features half-clad Libby finding and freeing Faye, Judd engaging in more senseless violence against women, Buck taking his predestined dive into the jaws of death, and the expected Cap'n Hook comeuppance for our weird little innkeeper. The only way it could have ended really, but it's nonetheless effective.

As I say, this movie is OTT from frame one. Brand delivers a powerhouse performance as Judd, mixing The Hitchhiker and Choptop from the TCM movies with a backwoods recluse flavor that within the weird world of the the movie is strangely compelling. William Finley makes a huge impression in his brief screen time as Roy, and Marilyn Burns screams as only she can in a role that requires her to do little else. Crystin Sinclaire and Stuart Whitman put in good performances and share a believable, likable chemistry. Robert Englund does a terrible hick accent (which he would go on to reprise in 2001 Maniacs), but plays the asshole with such elan and energy it's hard not to enjoy. And Kyle Richards as poor endangered Angie is cute without being cloyingly pretentious, which makes her easier to root for, and her predicament that much more nerve-wracking.

The Movie's Majestic Opening Shot

You can probably tell I enjoyed Eaten Alive a lot--a lot more than I thought I would, actually. I would have expected the immediate follow-up to TCM to share more of that movie's aesthetic, but it seems that for better or worse that was a real one-off in Hooper's career. Still, that shouldn't dampen one's enjoyemnt of out-there grindhouse fare like this one. It's crazy, it's off the rails, it's MAD, and thus right up my alley. 2.5 thumbs.

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...

Galaxy of Terror (1981): or, In Space, No One Can Hear You Get Raped By a Worm

A couple of sermons back I spent a little time considering the relative opportunities for batshittery in the genres of horror and sci-fi. If you'll recall, I came down rather decisively on the side of science fiction as the genre with the least imaginative restraint and thus the greatest potential for true cinematic madness. While horror will always be where my heart is, in the face of the overwhelming data presented by the esteemed Dr. Hasselhoff and others in Starcrash, I must admit to the sci-fi genre's superiority in at least that one respect.

Of course creative people are always drawn toward the medium in which they can express themselves most freely, and thus once the freedom offered by the science fiction of the 70s became clear--from gravity, from Earth, from the need for basic storytelling logic--it might have been predicted that the vacuum of space would suck a few intrepid horror filmmakers through the hull of their genre and out into the horrible, terrifying void. The resulting hybrid beasts exhibit at their best the most satisfying traits of both their parents--think Alien and The Thing, or else think mmmmmovie favorite Inseminoid. At worst, they can spiral into gibbering madness and ineptitude. Like the Darwinian Milkshake Sweepstakes inherent in any cross-breeding attempt, it's a crapshoot.

Luckily 1981's hard-to-find sci-fi/horror mash-up Galaxy of Terror comes up sevens rather than snake-eyes. Packed from one end to the other with sci-fi action, goopy practical FX, and even some poorly developed fantasy mythology thrown in for no extra charge, Galaxy of Terror takes a bite out of each of its parent genres and spits up something truly delectable.

"All right, I'll see him! Tell Baio to call off his goons!"

One of the many great things about this flick becomes clear in the opening titles, which to judge by the accompanying sound effects are being shot out of a laser cannon! (I never get tired of that shit.) A veritable galaxy of past and future stars twinkle merrily before our eyes, including Erin "Joanie" Moran, Ray "The Devil" Walston, Robert "Fucking" Englund, Sid "Fucking" Haig, and future David Duchovny flesh-peddler Zalman King! And produced by the ubiquitous Roger Corman! When a movie's credits list fewer people who are NOT b-movie royalty than those who ARE, you can't help but salivate at the prospect.

The drool continues as the requisite Alien-inspired wasteland exterior gives way to a lone spaceman on the interior of the base startled by a jump-synth scare! Cradling a laser rifle--and I mean cradling it, like a baby--he finds himself surrounded by corpses with exposed brains before being attacked by an invisible monstrosity we can just glimpse in the station windows! Soon he's missing the top of his brain-bucket as well, gone before we ever got the chance to know him better.

Next a witchy old-lady voice-over informs us that we're looking at a painting of "CERES--a small world on the fringes of space!" Down on the planet's surface we find the old woman herself--or as she v-o's enthusiastically, "Mitris! the Oracle of the game! Interpreter of the Signs!" Thanks, do you have a business card? The Oracle is engaged in some kind of fantasy board game with The Planet Master, a man-like being with a head composed completely of red cartoony luminescence! Which is a great look for him, it has to be said.

"Hang on...I think I'm getting an idea..."

Apparently the Planet Master is some kind of deity who controls just about everything in the society of the movie--his name is even used in the spacemen's oaths, such as "The Master knows what kind of shit was in that grub last night!" or "Master Damn it, my balls are on fire!"* Ceres is his Olympus, and Mitris his Delphic Oracle. Except that unlike Zeus, the PM is very hands-on--so much so that when a Moff Tarkin-type pops up on the view screen to tell him about a distress call coming in from deep space, PM hand-picks a crew of space marines to go out and see what (the fuck) is up.

*not actual quotes, but should have been

Now we pretty much abandon the fantasy trappings and go straight into hard sci-fi--after all, Alien isn't going to rip-off itself, people! In the space of about a minute we're introduced to our crew, comprised of all the stars mentioned above plus two or three extra bits of alien fodder. The captain of the rescue ship is a crusty Ratchitt-esque broad with PTSD thanks to a failed mission she can't stop talking about, and when she's ready to go, she's ready to go! She gives the crew 30 seconds to ready the ship--whose control panels operate ENTIRELY on the "toggle switch" principle, as all ships in the future will--before they jump to hyperspace. She almost blows up the whole ship and everyone on it before they even GET to the Galaxy of Terror. Nice pick, PM, she's a real winner.

Actually the reckless, frenetic pace of the pre-launch preparations is a good indicator of how the movie will go from here on out, as director Brian D. Clark stomps on the gas pedal and doesn't let up for 80 minutes. Once they arrive at the planetary source of the distress call, more dangerous piloting by the Cap'n soon has the ship tumbling through orbit toward almost certain death. The captain is saved from posthumous court-martial by a combination of supernatural intervention and belatedly competent steerage ("Hang onto your shorts!" she shouts into the intercom, "We're gonna DUMP!") and before long the crew sets out to explore the decrepit space station from the credit sequence while the Captain supervises repairs.

Erin, your headlights are on.

We get Cliff's Notes introductions to the various crew members by way of Immediately Explicated Distinguishing Traits. Erin Moran is Alluma, psi-sensitive and "paid to SENSE things." Sid Haig is Quuhod, a silent warrior type with some kickass Krull-like crystal throwing stars. Zalman King is Baelon, second-in-command control freak and sufferer of Roid Rage sans Roids. Robert Englund is Ranger, high-strung engineering officer. Ray Walston is Cook, the ship's cook. Moustachioed hunk Cabren (Edward Laurence Albert) is the Voice of Reason and Studly Man, Erin's love interest. Rounding out the crew are short-lived Commander Ilvar, busty blonde bombshell Damelia (Taaffe O'Connell), and scared-of-everything Private Cos (Ralph Malph-lookalike Jack Blessing). Why? Just cos.

Once inside the space station the intrepid crew starts searching for survivors. Their recovery methods leave a little to be desired, however, as standard protocol upon finding a prone body or having a corpse fall out of an overhead storage hatch is to IMMEDIATELY incinerate it with laser fire! Three piles of ash and surprisingly zero living survivors later, our merry band head back to the ship--all except Cos, who is so terrified by being on an alien planet he stays behind to whimper and hyperventilate. (Seriously, how did this guy make it through basic space marine training?) Left alone by his teammates, Cos is quickly dispatched by a stop-motion brain-eating bug! Which, you know, is probably pretty much what he figured was gonna happen.

Faced with the torn-apart body of one of their own crewmates, the rescue party shows the appropriate remorse, as Cabren opines to Cook, "If it weren't so gruesome, it'd be fascinating!" I want that on my tombstone. Erin apparently sensed a life form around Cos just before he died which vanished as soon as he snuffed it--a fact she doesn't see the need to mention till they're bickering over it in the mess hall. Deciding the only course of action open is to track down the origin of the distress call, they trek happily out again, presumably after giving Cos the Big Barbecue.

"Potsie! I still got it!"

Of course the distress call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE! I mean, inside the giant, spooky alien pyramid structure just a few hundred yards from the station. Commander Ilva is overwhelmed by the responsibility of his position, allowing Baelon to take control with his testosterone-fueled barking of commands--which is just as well, as within minutes the good Commander is completely devoured by space leeches! This leads Damelia to utter the not-at-all-foreshadowing line, "Ugh! I HATE worms!" which is pretty much the extent of her character development.

In fact it's a kind of trademark of the film's writers that they only give you any kind of character backstory JUST before it becomes relevant. For instance, upon entering the pyramid, Sid Haig's character uses his crystal stars to prop the massive door open, then is emotionally shattered (HA!) when they break under the pressure. Zalman tries to give him a gun for a weapon, but Sid (who has been MUTE up until this point) spits dramatically, "I LIVE...and DIE...by the CRYSTALS!" So he's like, what, a Quartz Jedi, or something?

"You gonna start shootin', you'd better start it right here."

Moments later, when the rest of the crew has left Sid to guard the entrance, the crystals magically reform and Sid is ecstatic...until a shard flies into his forearm and creeps under the skin toward his shoulder, in a wonderfully cringe-inducing practical effect. Sid uses the other star to slice off his own arm before the shard enters a major artery, only to watch the severed arm come to life and spin the broken crystal into his chest! Hey, he SAID he'd die by the crystals, and he did! Whattaya know?

Damelia returns later--alone, of course--and finds Sid's body already wriggling with maggots. (Lest you've forgotten, Damelia HATES WORMS.) Following protocol she immediately torches the body, but one little maggot gets away...and soon grows to gargantuan size! (The practical effects here are again a highlight--if you watch, you can see the puppeteer's fingers playing the "mandibles" of the worm.) Apparently worms don't feel the same about Damelia as she does about them, though, as this one quickly grabs her, rips off her clothes, and pours hot mucous all over her writhing, naked body! She screams, grunts, and groans under the beast's phallic bulk, and before you can say "OMFG WORM RAPE!" she's nothing but a slime-covered corpse.

(Nota Bene: this is probably most infamous scene in the movie, and was excised from many of the home video prints. Accept no substitutes!)

Feeling a Little Sluggish

Things go from OMG NASTY to not quite as bad, as the Captain's PTSD is predictably the end of her (she's incinerated while still living, giving us a nice screaming charred-skull exit), Baelon gets offed by a devil-headed penis monster (not really a penis, but the symbolism is obvious...at least to me), and Erin--who is claustrophobic, as it turns out--gets stuck in a tight squeeze before getting crushed to death by surprisingly non-rapey tentacles. (She doesn't go out like a punk though--she gets the prized EXPLODING HEAD death, and it's a beaut.) Meanwhile Cabren and Ranger have figured out that it's their own fears that are killing them, and that "There's no horror here we don't create ourselves." So wait...Damelia was a worm-rape-o-phobic? It all makes sense now.

The flick wraps up with a return to the fantasy elements of the opening, as Cabren must fight the Planet Master--who sloughs off his Ray Walston disguise for the battle--in order to succeed him. He fights all his zombified crewmates and their killers before offing the Lord of Space and Time and getting a cartoon glow of his own, and all is right with the Galaxy. Or at least this planet. Or, you know, the haunted pyramid. Or something.

Like something out of a Nightmare

As a horror/sci-fi hybrid from the early 80s, Galaxy of Terror holds up surprisingly well. The practical effects are a real treat throughout, particularly the rapey giant worm puppet and Erin's cranial detonation. The set designs rip off Alien shamelessly, just like everyone does, but the organic sets are done even more suggestively here, with our crew and going through veiny shafts and falling into puckered openings right and left, giving you the feeling that they're not in the belly of the beast, but up its asshole. And while the fantasy elements are not fleshed out very well (WTF happened to the Oracle, for instance?) the machine-gun pacing means you never have the chance to get bored between grody demises. And a throwaway bit where Robert Englund catches Ray Walston reading a book (obviously an ancient artifact) and seems terrified of the idea of reading it, means nothing in the grand scheme but still made me smile.

So for the intriguing premise, the refusal to be boring, the opportunity to watch several well-loved stars slumming it up before they made it big (or in Erin Moran's case, after), and most of all the OMG practical effects extravaganza, I give Galaxy of Terror 2.75 thumbs. If you're a fan of 80s horror and Happy Days, I think you'll give it an "Ayyyyyyy!"

Shut up.

"WHOA, Vicar! Who do you think I am, Dana Plato?"

PS--I must give a shout-out to the X-Y-Z Cosmonaut over at Cosmobells for providing the pixels here, as Galaxy of Terror is still criminally unavailable on DVD. If you've never jetted over to see the embarrassment of sci-fi, horror, and comic booky riches he's giving away for free over there, do yourself a favor. All it takes is interest and a little patience, which is more than amply rewarded.

MORE MADNESS...

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Slashed Dreams (1975): or, the Feel-Good Rape/Revenge Hit of the Summer

You know, I've wasn't even going to review Slashed Dreams, because like a handful of other movies from the miraculous Mill Creek 50 Chilling Classics Pack (buy yourself one NOW!), this is not in fact a horror movie. Originally titled Sunburst, this Age-of-Aquarius era back-to-nature flick was ruthlessly re-titled on video and made to look like an I Spit on Your Grave rip-off in order to take advantage of co-star Robert Englund's subsequent fame as everyone's favorite dream killer. Like Medusa (George Hamilton as an incestuous Greek in trouble with the mob) and Death Rage (Yul Brynner as a vengeful hitman), this movie is neither chilling nor classic, and so is completely out of place on this set.

But after reading a few dozen seething, hate-filled, absolutely dismissive reviews of Slashed Dreams on the intarwebs, I felt that somebody needed to step up in its defense. Not because it's a great movie secretly awaiting discovery by the erudite few who can appreciate it, but because I felt it was basically a good-natured, harmless, moderately interesting time-capsule that in no way deserves the piles of disdain being heaped upon it. Sure, it may be a little stupid, a little naive, and a little boring, but hey, aren't we all?

The plot goes a little something like this. Fed up with her hyper-insensitive, slightly sadistic fratboy boyfriend, homecoming queen Jenny (Katherine Baumann) dumps him and goes searching for meaning in her life. Inspired by a professor's lecture on "positivity" and "the new Aquarian age" and in receipt of a letter from a former classmate who dropped out to go kick it Walden-style in the remote woods, Jenny and lifelong best friend Robert (Peter Hooten) decide to hell with school, let's go visit our buddy Michael in his little cabin! After being warned by a nutty old shop owner not to go into those dangerous woods, they spend a few days hiking through the wilderness, getting in touch both with nature and with their long-suppressed romantic feelings for each other.

That's pretty much the first hour of this 78 minute movie. A lot of reviewers have savaged the film for this, since nothing much happens except hiking montages, the couple interacting, and lots and lots of very funny 70s folk-pop music. The songs actually do comment on the action, serving as a kind of poetic narration to the kids' difficult but fun trek through the woods. During one long sequence when the hikers are trying unsuccessfully to get up a steep mountainside, we get the actually pretty funny song "Animals are Clumsy, Too," with such insightful lyrics as:

"Next time you hit your head and roll in pain,
Just think about a turkey drowning in the rain!
Animals are clumsy too!"

It's a weird narrative choice, but for some reason I didn't mind it so much. It was almost like a musical, or at least a long-form music video album. But I think what got me was the frankly excellent chemistry between the two leads. Jenny and Robert are a couple of silly, extremely likeable kids, and you can totally believe they've been best friends forever, just from their gestures, expressions, and the way they play off each other. It's really some fine acting from both of them, and even without much dialogue they completely drew me in to their burgeoning romance.

The original, much more accurate poster.

When they finally get to the cabin, Michael isn't there. They settle in to wait for him, enjoying the wonderful scenery and the Walden-like pond nearby. Then they decide to go skinny-dipping together and their sexual tension begins its release, which I was actually pleased to see. Of course you know what that means: it's time for the inbreds to show up.

Danker and Levón could be hillbillies, bikers, trappers, or just skuzzy dropouts scrounging for mushrooms in the woods. (That's the problem with nature--there's too damn many PEOPLE in it!) It's never really explained, nor does it really need to be--they're just two other people in the world, and people you don't want to know. They menace the nude swimmers and then retreat, allowing Jenny and Robert to consummate their romance in Michael's cabin.

Then, in the part that got it repackaged, the bad guys show up, knock out Robert, and after some monologuing, rape Jenny. It's a strange scene, because it flows very much like a scene from a stage play to me. Levón, scarred and ugly, has a fairly well-written speech about his ugliness giving him power, and how Jenny can't stop what's going to happen. However, when Jenny faints and won't fight him, he can't go through with the assault. He shakes her, pleading, "Come on, fight me! Hit me! Wake up and hit me!" but to no avail. Danker takes over, though, beating and raping Jenny until Levón pulls him off out of, apparently, jealousy. There's a weird dynamic going on between the two bad guys, as we'll see more in a moment.

The rapists leave, and Jenny and Robert are left to deal silently with their scars while yet another narrative song plays over them. Finally Michael arrives, having been hiking for 2 days to gather tea, or something. It's pretty shocking how handsome and young Robert Englund looks here, and his caring, hippie character is also a shock, but he pulls it off well. In fact I'd say the acting is above average across the board in this flick--Danker and Levón included, which may be why I wasn't especially bored.

Here's another part the haters savage--trying to help Jenny out of her emotional shock, Michael tells her to "take some meaning from it," and try to use it to find some "truth." "You have to think about the good things," he tells her, "and drive that devil out of your house!" Some see this as his just saying, "Get over it, girl!" or worse, saying the rape was necessary for her personal growth. I didn't see it that way at all--I just thought he was trying to find a way to help her cope with her bad experience and come out of it stronger. It's the same way people tell grieving relatives that their loved ones' deaths are "God's Will"--it sounds a bit callous, but sometimes it helps people to deal. So I didn't mind Englund's new-agey stuff here.

Robert, guilt-stricken over having "allowed" Jenny to get raped, goes off into the woods with his little hatchet, seeking revenge. He finds the rapists, apparently still bickering about what happened last night. Again, this scene plays very much like a scene from a stage play, but that's not entirely bad--the writing is good in a stagey way, and the weird psychology between the two bad guys--Danker wants to go back for more, accusing Levón of being mad he "couldn't get it up" and "still has that Cheeks disease" or something--which leads to a fight in which Levón hamstrings the beefier Danker with a hunting knife. Ouch!

The odds suddenly even, Robert jumps out and attacks Levón, leading to a long fight between the two that's actually well-staged. Then end up wallowing in a mud-puddle, significantly, and when Michael and Jenny show up, the rapists hobble off into the woods, leaving an exhausted, weeping Robert covered in mud. He realizes it "wasn't even worth it," and he's "ashamed of himself." We get another song about healing, a poetry reading about living through pain in order to arrive at peace, and that's pretty much the end.

Now I can see why someone expecting a horror flick would hate this. It's slow, there's lots of goofy music, and if it's meant to be a rape-revenge flick, where's the revenge? But maybe because I wasn't expecting it to be such--I read a few reviews beforehand--it didn't feel like a betrayal to me, and I was able to watch it a little more open-mindedly. Because what this really is, I think, is a New Age Rape/Revenge flick, in which the spiritual seekers forgo the revenge in the end and are better for it. It's that positivity stuff the prof was talking about. Jenny and Robert find truth not because of the rape/revenge, but because by looking inward they're able to overcome the bad stuff. Or at least I think that's the point.

Some people find that idea stupid and contemptible, and I can see that--like I said, this movie comes off as more than a little bit naive, in a Hair/Flower Children kinda way. But maybe b/c of the mood I was in, I didn't mind--it was a sweet naivety, the kind you almost wish could be true. A time-capsule of a simpler, sweeter time. With rape.

So that's my defense. Not a great movie, but I think a fairly decent one. Good acting from all involved, a fairly good (if stagey) script, a definite sweet side, and a few interesting directorial choices that even if you don't agree with, you have to give props for. Or at least I do.

I give Slashed Dreams 1.75 thumbs--a little above average, and the kind of thing you might be able to enjoy, if you approach it from the right direction. And don't forget: animals are clumsy too.

Positivity. Give it a try.

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...