I’ve watched many a bad movie for this site, but this has to be the new basement when it comes to films, a Shot On Video piece of flaccid garbage that wants so very badly to be pornography but stops short, providing all of the downsides of 1990’s VCA crap you had to rent from the back of the video store with none of the upside, like actual pornography or the lunacy of the Dark Brothers or Rinse Dream.
I really wanted it to fit into this week’s theme of matriarchal societies, as it seemed like from the description that Strain’s character was She. But no. No, not at all.
This all became more crustal clear when I saw who made it: Donald G. Jackson, the director of more than three Roller Blade themed movies who has one lone success, Hell Comes to Frogtown.
A whole bunch of women has been invited to an island that takes over their minds — or so they say — while Julie Strain waits for them, naked and swinging around a sword. Do you know how boring a movie has to be to not be good while featuring Julie Strain topless? This movie will give you the answer.
Literally, during this movie, I yelled out loud, “Robert Z’Dar, don’t you have something better to do?”
Also known as The Devil’s Pet and Elixir — the name it finally came out in 2004 on home video under — this movie also has Tina-Desiree Berg (Legend of the Roller Blade Seven), Lori Jo Hendrix (Bikini Summer) and Jeff Hutchinson (who shows up in many of Jackson’s films, like Lingerie Kickboxer and Roller Blade).
Fans of bad movies — this is quite literally as bad as it gets.
In 1998: It was the battle of the Earth-destroyed-by-asteroid epics Deep Impact vs. Armageddon.
In 2013: It was the battle of the terrorist-attack-on-the-White House epics Olympus Has Fallen vs. White House Down.
And back in the early ’90s: It was the battle of the Gunfight at the O.K Corral flicks that were 1993’s Tombstone and 1994’s Wyatt Earp.
Welcome to the O.K Octagon for the Wyatt Earp showdown that Kevin Costner built.
In “The Western Godfather,” an October 2006 article published in True West Magazine, it’s learned that Costner was originally involved in Hollywood/Buena Vista Pictures’ (part of Walt Disney Studios) production of Tombstone — starring as Wyatt Earp. As is the case with the clout of A-List stars, they’re given control over their scripts. Costner was, of course, unhappy with screenwriter Kevin Jarre’s (an expert history scribe courtesy of his 1989 Civil War epic, Glory — but you know Jarre’s work in Rambo: First Blood Part II) version that focused more on all of those involved in the epic Wild West gunfight, than Wyatt Earp.
So Costner turned in his spurs to Uncle Walt and signed on the dotted line with Bugs to make his own version Wyatt Earp’s tale for Warner Bros. with Lawrence Kasdan (of Star Wars* fame) who helmed Costner’s previous western, 1985’s Silverado. And Costner used his considerable clout to convince most of the major studios to refuse to distribute Tombstone.
So, what was the end result?
Tombstone — released first, in December 1993 — was a box office success, becoming the 16th high-grossing western released since 1979.
Wyatt Earp — released in June 1994 — was a critical and box office bomb.
So, how bad was it?
Wyatt Earp earned five Razzie nods for Worst Picture, Director, and Screen Couple (Earp and his three wives), while walking away with the awards for the Remake or Sequel and Actor categories. In addition, Costner’s version ended up on several major, national publications’ “Year End Worst Of” lists, including Rolling Stone, which ranked it the 2nd worse film of the year.
And good ‘ol Pops, a western freak who never appreciated my love for all things Spaghetti Western — or Klaus Kinski** — beyond Clint Eastwood’s forays, hated Wyatt Earp. But he loved Tombstone. So there you go. (And he, like I, loved Costner’s Waterworld and The Postman, and Costner’s early film Fandango is still one of my VHS-rental favorites.)
And why are we reviewing the Costner one and not the Kurt Russell and Val Kilmer-starring one? Have you not been paying attention at all this week, ye B&S About Movies reader?
This one stars the perfect-for-the-western-genre-and-we-wished-he-did-more-of-them John Doe of X as Tommy “Behind-the-Deuce” O’ Rourke — a character based on the real life professional gambler and gunslinger Michael “Mike” O’Rourke, aka “Johnny O’Rourke,” aka “Johnny-Behind-the-Deuce.”
* Be sure check out our month-long blowout of Star Wars-influenced film reviews with the our “Exploring: After Star Wars” featurette.
Toho knows about multiple headed dragons. But here, they are in service to a fairy tale film that deals with the birth of Shinto.
Honestly, this movie blew my mind and I’m not certain I’ll ever be able to get it fixed again.
After the birth of twin princes, the emperor feels hatred for one of them, Ousu. He orders a shaman to kill his son, but Amano Shiratori, the White Bird of the Heavens, appears and the shaman decides to raise him.
Yet when he finally grows up and his father pardons him, within days Ousu’s mother has died mysteriously and his brother attacks him, dying in the process. The emperor sends his son away again, into the Kumaso area to battle the barbarians that live there.
Along with a girl named Oto and his friends Genbu and Seriyu, the prince changes his name to Yamato Takeru and begins to complete a series of heroic feats. However, he must now find the Sword of Dark Clouds before the evil moon god Tsukuyomi who has somehow learned how to transform himself into the eight-headed dragon named Orochi. And oh yeah, Tsukinowa — the evil priest who caused all this — is the one who killed our hero’s mother and brother. And get this, Oto is really the sun goddess Amaterasu. And then a sword gets pulled from a stone. And…
Seriously, this movie is absolutely packed with astounding moment after astounding moment, like heroes dying and being reborn, Amano Shiratori becoming a mecha phoenix and the titular eight-headed dragon. You should pause and realize that this effect is a physical effect and not CGI. It’s one of the most incredible looking monsters that I’ve ever seen, blowing away nearly any kaiju movie.
A remake of 1959’s The Three Treasures, this was intended to be a trilogy, but didn’t do well in theaters. It did lead to a Yamato Takeru anime. It was directed by Takao Okawara, who also made Godzilla vs. Destoroyah and Godzilla 2000. He also was an assistant director on one of Toho’s weirdest movies, Nosutoradamusu no Daiyogen. Wataru Mimura, who wrote the script, also worked on several of Toho’s 2000’s kaiju movies.
This is the closest a movie has come to a Harryhausen effort in decades. I say that with the highest praise, as this is a visually stunning feast that kids of all ages will love.
A toast! Let’s raise those waxed cups n’ strawed A&W Root Beers to Harry “Tampa” Hurwitz and his return to the big screen with Robert De Niro starring in the remake of Harry’s 1982 feature, The Comeback Trail.
Prior to his tenure as a screenwriter, director and producer, the New York born and raised Hurwitz worked as a professor of film and drawing at several New York institutions, including a prestigious tenure at New York University.
He made his debut as a filmmaker with 1970’s critically-acclaimed The Projectionist — a film noted as the acting debut for a then unknown comedian named Rodney Dangerfield — in a tale about a lonely projectionist (Chuck McCann) who imagines himself in the films he shows. Hurwitz also translated his life-long love of Charlie Chaplin in the 1972 sophomore effort, The Eternal Tramp.
While his films would see distribution with major studios, such as MGM/United Artists (Safari 3000), and major-independents, such as Almi Pictures, a division of Carolco (The Rosebud Beach Hotel), and Compass International (Nocturna), Hurwitz produced and directed 12 pictures, 9 of which he wrote, independently.
His resume features two films produced with a pre-Empire Studios Charles Band: the late ’70s sexploitation pieces Fairy Tales and Auditions. Hurwitz also wrote and directed 1972’s Richard, a social parody on President Richard M. Nixon. He re-teamed with his lifelong friend Chuck McCann in 1982’s The Comeback Trail, a somewhat semi-autobiographical tale about two independent film executives against-the-odds in producing a western with a washed-up cowboy star.
“Rose” BLANK And the $50 response is . . . “Is a Rose” The$150 response is . . . “Wood” And the $500 response . . . “Bud”
What the hell? Napoleon Solo? Well, it was either Match Game . . . or do a film with Harry. Oh, shite . . . say it ain’t so, Solo! The “comeback trail” isn’t paved with Harry Hurwitz films, Mr. Vaughn. Just ask Christopher Lee. . . .
Repeating the semi-documentary cinéma vérité style of 1978’s Auditions, Hurwitz also concocted 1989’s That’s Adequate; a Spinal Tapish tale about a troubled film studio that features an eclectic cast of comedians with Sinbad, Richard Lewis, and Rick Overton alongside a starbound Bruce Willis, Maureen “Marsha Brady” McCormick as a Space Princess, Robert Vaughn as Adolf Hitler (which is “funny” to fringe movie fans, when we remember Vaughn starred in 1978’s The Lucifer Complex), Susan “Laurie Partridge” Dey as a Southern Belle, and Robert Downey, Jr. as Albert Einstein. (Seriously: the film is that crazy.)
Harry’s most significant screen credit was working as one of the five screenwriters on a tale about the 1939 production of The Wizard of Oz, the 1981 Chevy Chase-starring Under the Rainbow for Warner Bros.-Orion Pictures. And we can’t forget Harry dipping his toes in the Blaxploitation pool as a producer with 1983’s The Big Score starring Richard Roundtree and the late John Saxon*.
Harry “Tampa” Hurwitz passed away on September 21, 1995, at the young age of 57 from heart failure while awaiting a heart transplant at the U.C.L.A Medical Center. This Drive-In Friday is for you, Harry. May your films live on for a new generation of video fringe enthusiasts. And they do!
In the ultimate show of respect to Harry’s imagination, on November 13, 2020**, the remake of The Comeback Trail, starring the Oscar acting elite of Robert De Niro, Morgan Freeman, and Tommy Lee Jones, was realized by writer-director George Gallo of Bad Boys fame.
Way to go, Harry!
Now, Mr. Gallo . . . about that Safari 3000 remake. . . .
What do you get when you go into business with a noted Las Vegas belly dancer who appeared on TV’s The Beverly Hillbillies . . . then cast Lily Munster, a B-Movie Dracula, and a couple of on-their-way-down ’70s disco stars — and negotiate a deal with MCA Records to release a disco-flavored soundtrack double album to promote the movie?
You get a Harry Tampa box-office boondoggle with John Carradine making back dick jokes. Can Countess Dracula turn her gay singer crush, straight? Do we care?
And to think the Compass International — a studio that had a worldwide hit on their hands with their debut release, John Carpenter’s Halloween — backed this vampire hookers romp. But they also made Roller Boogie, Tourist Trap, Blood Beach, and Hell Night . . . so you know where this disco Dracula romp is heading. Flushing is required.
What do you get when you go into business with United Artists and convince them a Smokey and the Bandit ripoff set on the African tundra will work?
You get a Harry Tampa box-office boondoggle with Christopher Lee frolicking with baboons and the guy who voiced the CP3O knockoff in Luigi Cozzi’s Starcrash. Does the fact that David Carradine is behind the wheel giving us some serious Death Race 2000 and Cannonball vibes save this VHSflotsam? No. And we wished ol’ Dave got off a couple of his dad’s bad dick jokes from Nocturna to compensate for the fact that Stockard Channing’s comedic timing makes the monkeys look good.
Intermission!With the stars of our next feature on tonight’s program!
What do you get when you contractually flim-flam cinema’s requisite Count, an ex-Runaway, a B-Movie apoc anti-hero, a washed up Tom Hanks TV sidekick, and wardrobe left overs from Glen Larson’s crap-ass Buck Rogers remake for TV?
You get a Harry Tampa ripoff of Bob Clark’s Porky‘s set in a South Beach Miami hotel. Do the adult film actresses working as topless bell hops for Madam Bobbi Flekman from Spinal Tap’s management team seducing Paco Querak from Hands of Steel save it? Do the cut-rate AOR-synth soundtrack ditties from Cherie Currie save it? No. And we wished Christopher Lee stuck to his original plan of torching the joint for the insurance money.
Movie 4: Fleshtone(1994)
What do you get when Harry Tampa answers paid cable’s call for “after hours” erotic thriller programming fodder for the wee-lads who can’t get dates on Saturday nights?
You get the bassist from the bane of our New Wave existence — Spandau Ballet — as a struggling painter twisting down a soft-core film noir spiral in this final, bitter sweet Harry “Tampa” Hurwitz’s effort completed a year before his death.
Truth be told, Martin Kemp, who been in the acting game in the U.K. since the ’70s before finding fame as a MTV favorite, is pretty decent here (he was in Sugar Town with John Doe and Michael Des Barres) as the noir schlub who can’t stay away from dangerous women who enjoy erotic sex games. And it’s nice to see Tim Thomerson (yep, the one and only Jack Deth from Trancers) on top of the marquee in this who-killed-her potboiler.
Do the adult film actresses that Harry likes to cast for that extra titillation-inspiration and lesbian sex scenes helping? Does the fact that the singularly-named Daniella also starred in Anal Maidens 3 and Assy 2 exciting you? How about those exotic Jo-Berg, South Africa locations?
Eh, a little . . . but in reality, this is probably the best of Harry’s films, courtesy of Kemp and Thomerson giving the material some class, and ’80s U.S. TV actress Lise Cutter isn’t so bad, but she’s not leaving the direct-to-video realms any time soon.
Yes! You Tube comes through in the clutch! You can enjoy Harry’s final film on You Tube. You can watch the other films on tonight’s program via the links in those reviews.
**The Comeback Trail premiered at the 43rd Mill Valley Film Festival on October 12, 2020. It was initially scheduled to be theatrically released in the United States on November 13, 2020. However, due to the affects of COVID on theaters, Cloudburst Entertainment has pushed the release date to sometime in 2021.
If you ever wanted to see a vampire flick that slaughters Black Flag’s Henry Rollins (playing himself; then at the top of his solo game with The End of Silence and Weight albums) and comic-book icons Stan Lee and Frank Miller (an anthropology professor and a fellow grad student, respectively)—as it quotes the poems of Walt Whitman (remember: the father of the modern vampire genre, Bram Stoker, was a Whitman admirer, and later a pen-pals with the poet)—then this idiosyncratic vampire romp is your goblet of blood.
After several centuries of undead romance, Ms. Dracula needs a new neck in her life, so she decides to fall in love with the food that comes in the form of James Grace, a Philadelphia thesis-working anthropologist in Alaska (he’s on a ship; thus the Whitman quote about “deep waters” and “seas of god”) who becomes the unwitting third side in a gothic love triangle. Why? Because mortal women aren’t exactly banging down the doors of anthropologists . . . so when a several-centuries-old hottie shows up and drops her parka naked-to-go, you don’t did-a-doddle with your rocks and dirt: you go for it. (I would. Undead me, baby.) Well, it’s not that cheesy: Alexandra the Vamp is actually on the run to Alaska, the last earthly sanctuary for vampires as the nights grow shorter—and she’s being hunted by her kind’s eldest, known as Legion.
When the half-vampirized Grace discovers Mr. Dracula, aka Legion, has murdered Alexandra, his new undead-life’s love—as result of her mortal infidelities—he embarks on an Easy Rider meets Phantasm II-inspired sunless odyssey; a hallucinatory roadtrip through America’s underground lands of the undead where he meets an array of fringe-society characters in Los Angeles, Utah, New Orleans, and Philadelphia in his quest for revenge. Then there’s the side plots with Nickadeamous (writer-director Blair Murphy) tracking down Grace—and Grace tracking down Dr. Donna Park, who has the secrets to the mythical Induit creatures that fuel the vampire myth. And that she’s not dead or missing—but a vampire herself, and Grace killed her back on the ship when Nickadeamous attacked him.
One of the most—if not the most—ambitious indie-art house vampire flicks you’ll ever see (if there is such a genre), this vamp’s cross-country ambitions hold up (somewhat) against its aspirations-over-budget, courtesy of its avoiding the graveyard brooding and strip club clichés of most modern vampire flicks, as the protagonist’s search takes him to unconventional, underground-kitschy coffee houses and maybe-a-little-bit-more-conventional goth night clubs (aka, the pretty-cool named Caligari’s Casket that spins F.W Murnau’s 1922 vamp-romp, Nosferatu for “atmosphere”; you know, the place where Henry Rollins hangs out to become fang-chum).
It’s all from the mind of indie writer-director Blair Murphy who self-financed the film through his family’s funeral home business. Is this a case of “. . . if Tommy Wiseau made a vampire flick?” Eh, well . . . while this was made in the early ’90s and shot-on-film, the proceedings look like an ’80s “Big Box” SOV romp, ala (the much better granddaddy of SOV) Blood Cult. (But Jugular Wine isn’t as bad as fellow SOV’ers Spine. Or Things.) And we’re not sure if that’s from cinematic ineptitude, purposeful SOV-homage, or the battered VHS is so washed-out that it looks like an ’80s SOV’er. And what’s the deal with the white grease paint vamps? Again, we’re not sure if that’s special-effect ineptitude (due to cash) or a homage to Herk Harvey 1962 classic-creeper, Carnival of Souls, which, in many ways, Jugular Wine resembles in its self-financed, one-off guerilla filmmaking style. But make no mistake: Carnival of Soul (which should be as revered as George Romeo’s Night of the Living Dead) is the far superior film. Far superior.
While Murphy certainly possessed the same generous self-financing verve as The Room’s auteur, Murphy has a more effective grasp of filmmaking. Sadly, in lieu of his musician and comic-book stunt castings, he should have dug up a few down-on-their-luck B or C-List actors (Eric Roberts was already down to direct-to-video potboilers like Power 98 by this point; he would have been a prefect class-up-this-joint casting) to carry his intelligent script—as the strained overacting, in conjunction with its way-too-long 98-minute running time, make this vamp romp a hard swallow (yuk, yuk, sorry) . . . for you, maybe. But I dig this way more that Tom Cruise’s mainstream fang sporting, so kudos, Mr. Murph!
There’s no PPV-VOD streams or freebie rips of the VHS. And that “Blockbuster” plug on the box art is totally bogus. Across three local Blockbusters, I never one saw a copy of Jugular Wine on their mainstream shelves: this was strictly a 10,001 Monster Video or mom-n-pop rent-n-carry. For you digital hounds: Yeah, there are DVDs in the marketplace, but caveat emptor: they look like grey market burns. (No, they are definitely grey market burns.) For those of you that have never seen Jugular Wine, the best we’ve got is this eight-years post documentary (on You Tube in six-parts) that Murphy strung together in 2002, which features scenes from the film. Apparently, the later-issued DVDs contain the documentary.
About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.
Will Randall (Jack Nicholson) once ran the New York publishing world, but now he’s been demoted by his new boss Raymond Alden (Christopher Plummer) and has lost his wife and title to Stewart Swinton (James Spader). At least he’s been bit by a black wolf and has started to become something more than just a normal person, because otherwise, his life is pretty rough.
He soon begins to romance Alden’s daughter Laura (Michelle Pfeiffer) as he tries to control the wolf inside him. Of course, his rival is also a wolf and tries to take everything away from him all over again, but this time, he’s able to best him before becoming a full-blown wolf and running into the woods.
Mike Nichols wouldn’t be my first choice for making a horror movie, what with a resume of The Graduate, Working Girl and The Birdcage. At least the Ennio Morricone is pretty great. The make-up is awesome, too. If you’re going to make a werewolf movie, get the best. Get Rick Baker.
Nicholson had been trying to get this movie made with his friend, Jim Harrison, for more than a decade. The screenwriter and associate producer hated the result of the film so much that he left Hollywood.
The real problem, I think, is that no one could agree what the movie was about. Nichols thought it was about the death of God, the decline of Western civilization and A.I.D.S. Harrison wanted it to be a “celebration of oblivion and liberation.” And Morricone believed it was a story about a man trapped in a dream.
Full Moon, you so crazy. You filmed this Peter David written story and somehow put aliens in space and got Andrew Divorff to play the villainous Red Eye in a movie that feels a lot like an adult version of BraveStarr. They also grabbed Meg Foster, Isaac Hayes, George Takei, Julie Newmar and Carel Struycken, the giant from Twin Peaks to help tell the story of how the outer space west was won.
If a Western can contain empaths, aliens that can foresee death and cyborgs, then let this be that Western.
They filmed Backlash: Oblivion 2 at the same time, so if you liked this, good news. There’s more waiting for you.
Written by Charles Band, this was directed by Sam Irvin, who also made Elvira’s Haunted Hills.
Ah . . . the ’90s . . . the era of the cheesy erotic thrillers inspired by the likes of Lawrence Kasdan’s far superior Body Heat (1981). And for every Paul Verhoeven noir-giallo Basic Instinct (1992) blockbuster . . . there was the great Willem Dafoe struggling to salvage Madonna in Body of Evidence (1992) . . . then there’s David Caruso bombing hard with William Friedkin’s Jade (1995). And let’s not forget Joe Eszterhas and Paul Verhoeven’s abysmal reteaming with Showgirls (1995).
And then there’s Roger Corman’s take on the genre: Saturday Night Special.
And while Corman was never one to let a set or a special effects shot go to waste (see all of his ’80s Star Wars/Alien knock offs as examples*), he never let a script go to waste either. So he made the same movie . . . three times.
First, in 1991, the script was made as Kiss Me a Killer. If you’re a fan of Robert Beltran (Commander Chakotay on Star Trek: Voyager, Paul Bartel’s Eating Raoul, or 1984’s Night of the Comet), you’ll probably want to seek that one out concerning soft-core sexual hijinks in an L.A salsa club. Then Corman took the script and placed it into an Urban Cowboy-styled honky tonk as Saturday Night Special. Then, to capitalize on the media frenzy over Showgirls, he re-tweaked the script inside a Los Angeles strip club as 1996’s The Showgirl Murders. The upside to Saturday Night Special and The Showgirls Murders: both star Quentin Tarantino’s “favorite B actress,” Maria Ford. And of those two films, the one you want to watch is, you guess it, Saturday Night Special.
Yeah, but what does this all have to do with “Rock n’ Roll Week” at B&S About Movies? Well, this Corman noir stars country rocker Billy Burnette of Fleetwood Mac (formerly with Mick Fleeetwood’s side band, The Zoo; Burnette replaced Linsday Buckingham) in his acting debut . . . along with a cameo by Mick Fleetwood himself (remember when Mick showed up alongside Dweezil Zappa in The Running Man?).
Burnette is Travis, a ne’er-do-well drifter-cum-musician who gets a gig as the house musician at a local, dusty town honky tonky. And in typical film noir fashion, along comes Darlene (Maria Ford), the local femme fatale, who seduces Travis to kill her abusive, bar owner husband. Boobs, brawls, dead bodies, and to be honest, crappy country songs by Burnette, ensues. (Keep your eyes open for requisite low-budget screen heavy Duane Whitaker from Pulp Fiction, The Devil’s Rejects, Halloween II ’09 in an early role.)
In lieu of bogging this review with Billy Burnette career trivia, his Wikipedia page will give you all you need to know . . . and You Tube will give you all you need to hear. However, in short: Aerosmith fans know the music of Billy’s dad Dorsey and his Uncle Johnny from The Rock ‘n’ Roll Trio with their cover of “Train Kept-a Rollin’“; Billy had his own early ’80s new wave hit with a cover of his dad’s ’50s hit, “Honey Hush” (but you probably know that one better for its kick ass cover by Foghat). Oh, and Billy’s cousin, Rocky Burnette (son of Johnny), had his own 1980 U.S Top 10 hit with “Tired of Toein’ The Line.”
Anyway, back to the movie . . . we all know how the uploads come and go on You Tube. So we’re giving you three links to choose from to watch Saturday Night Special HERE, HERE, and HERE. Sadly, there are no VHS rips of Kiss Me a Killer or The Showgirl Murders online, but we found the trailers for each of them HERE and HERE.
While a sequel to Class of 1999, none of the storylines cross over from that film. There is, however, flashback footage on hand to help pad out the running time and give some vague remembrance of what has gone on before.
This movie is the very definition of a “the store’s closing, you better grab something” VHS rental era pick.
John Bolen — no relation to my old roommate and TNA Gut Check winner — is the new substitute teacher in Bend, Oregon. He beats up some punks for skipping class and when another teacher threatens to narc on him, he breaks the guy’s neck. John is played by Sasha Mitchell, who was Cody Lambert on Step by Step.
While obviously one of the androids from the last movie, John can still fall in love with a fellow teacher and go to war with a museum currator played by Nick Cassavetes (The Wraith).
There is also much paintballing and a year before Monica Lewinsky mention that Clinton had been indicted.
Originally called Class of 2001: The Substitute, this was directed by Spiro Razatos, who is still doing stunt work on this day on movies like the new Fast and the Furious and the Marvel films.
The title of this film is The Throne of Hell and madre de dios do I have a story to tell you about it. This movie is quite literally everything you want a 1994 cheaply made Mexican movie about possession to be, and by that, I mean it’s packed with gore and bad taste. That’s pretty much the description for nearly every movie that I love.
A group of archeologists excavating some Aztec ruins in Mexico City uncover a bizarre jar that has fumes that come out of it and before you can say Pazuzu, the main one has been possessed and begins wiping out people in all sorts of creative ways, like crucifying a woman upside down with a crown of thorns.
If you wonder, “Will they slowly take the nails out and have blood spray everywhere?” you have been watching too many Mexican horror films just like me.
A Catholic bishop figures out the solution: call for the Angel, who can walk on water and already has a demon-killing sword which may be Excalibur and the Seven Seals. Luckily, they also have a giant attache case with a gleaming gold shield, too. He’s some kind of Templar Knight. The big bad turns into a rubber-suited monster and they do battle.
This movie moves slowly in points and at other times, it rewards you with scenes of priests being launched out of windows and cops exploding. There’s also a solar eclipse and an earthquake, if you’re into those kinds of things.
Sergio Goyri plays both the knight and directed this, so I’m kind of hoping that it was some kind of crazy passion project. Every time I was ready to check out, this movie would reward me with something off the wall.