Happy Halloween, gang.  It's time to check out the latest collection of buff boys and buxom gals in this collection of blatantly tacky, scary skin epics ... so without further ado, time to break out the remote control and a box of Kleenex as Horror Porn Returns Yet Again:

Bloody hunks and sexy zombies seeking firm flesh abound in Boys Night Out.

Taking a cue from The Queen of the Damned, Wicked Pictures presents Curse Eternal which promises that, "the dead will rise" (see what they did there, aint that clever?)

Yes, yes it's called Queer of the Damned...because they are ... queer and ... uh...they are damned...funny, they look pretty happy all things considered.

Kudos to the producers for really putting some thought into the box cover of A Wet Dream on Elm Street...are those vibrators on Freddy's glove?  Brilliant!

They're here, they're queer, and chances are they suck more than just blood!

So I had to look at this cover several times until I I caught the gag.  That said, great cover - but why not a tad more thought in the title? 

Nekid nasty boys are being spied on, or something like that in the epic, When A Stranger Cums.

Honestly, if I did not know better, I'd have thought this was an ad for a film on The Lifetime Network. 

And last but not least, Dante promises us a hell many of us would probably not mind.


and the Infinite Sadness : MELANCHOLIA

Melancholia is probably one of the most gorgeously rendered movies since Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey - indeed, the film's prologue of slow motion scenes and invasive heavenly bodies scored to Richard Wagner's Tristan und Isolde will bring to mind the imagery and beauty of Kubrick's masterpiece.  All in all, the ghost of the late director seems to hang heavy over Lars von Trier's latest film.

Breathtaking, heartbreaking, and sometimes terribly mundane, Melancholia is a rarity.  On the surface it's the tale of two sisters coping with varying degrees of depression during an upcoming event that might  herald the end of the world.  Justine (Kirsten Dunst) is a newlywed suffering from more than a case of cold feet, while Clarie (Charlotte Gainsbourg) is on edge due to caring for her frail sibling as well as the worry brought on by an approaching planet that may very well be on a collision course with Earth.   On the other, it's a deep meditation on existential angst, paranoia, the meaninglessness of life, and fear of the unknown.

The film opens as Justine and her new husband Michael (Alexander Skarsgård) are made late to their wedding reception because their chauffeur can not maneuver the gargantuan limousine he's driving up the winding, gravel road to the  couple's reception that is being held at Justine's sister and her husband's palatial estate. This scene is probably one of the only charming and light-hearted moments in the film.  Once the duo make it to the elaborate reception, and meet the odd-ball family members (of particular note is Charlotte Rampling who plays Justine's shrew of a mother), we spend the next hour watching the bride go from blushing to morose and soon realize that she has some kind of major mental health issues.

The second part of the film concentrates more on the impending event as we discover that Claire's husband (Kiefer Sutherland) is something of an astronomy buff who is constantly trying to reassure his wife that there is nothing to be worried about. 

Frankly, to sit back and try to explain any more of this exceptional piece of art, would be a fool's game, Melancholia must be experienced to be appreciated.    That said, this is not the kind of film one can watch with distractions, it is slow and deliberate and was made for an audience who want more than cheap thrills and CGI.  If that sounds like you, give yourself over to Melancholia, in spite of everything, I think you will be glad that you did. 


Back by Popular Demand: THE TRUTH ABOUT CANDY CORN!

Halloween is almost here, and while that means all your fave horror bloggers will be falling all over themselves cooking up posts about favorite monsters, movies, screams and scares, I'd like to ring in the season by paying homage to that confectionery delight that is highlighted this time of the year: Candy Corn...read on and learn.

Anyone who does not like candy corn, can not be trusted! -- Pax Romano

While some sources claim that candy corn was invented by George Renninger sometime in the 1800's; the true aficionado of this confectionery delicacy understands that it has been around since the dawn of time. Even the bible makes mention of it:

From the book of Genesis 002:666 -- And God said, "Let us now make the most fabulous foodstuff , and let us make it in shades of white and orange and yellow, and let us fill it with such sugary goodness it will make men's eyes roll back in their heads, and let us call it Candy Corn". And god made the candy corn, and saw that it was good.

Most of you know the important role that Candy Corn has played in history; the ancient Aztecs used it to trade for goods... the Greeks built several temples out of candy corn... the Romans paid their most prized servants with it who in turn used it to buy their freedom ... the Great Candy Corn Crusade was of course one of the most brutal battles of the middle ages ...and, of course, every school child remembers the story of the Cleveland Candy Corn Party.

During World War II, Candy Corn was in such demand by our troops in The Pacific, special operatives delivered the goodie in dangerous midnight runs -- maybe you read the book about these brave men, The Corn Runners, that was made into an Oscar winning film that starred Clark Gable and Betty Grable.

To truly understand what makes the tri-colored taste treat so special, one only need know the secret ingredients: see chart below

Fun Candy Corn Facts:

* Recently, the USDA has added Candy Corn to its food pyramid.

* Studies have shown that children who get at least three, six ounce, servings of Candy Corn daily, grow up to be well-adjusted, and do better in school than children who abstain from Candy Corn.

* Albert Einstein ate six bags of Candy Corn every day of his life!

* One kernel of Candy Corn has as much protein as a 15 ounce steak!

* During the month of October, some Catholic Churches replace the Communion bread with a special Host shaped piece of Candy Corn.

Finally, if you want to drink your daily dose of Candy Corn: try a Candy Corn Margarita!


Trouble in Mind : RESURRECT DEAD

Amusing, engrossing, and authentic, Jon Foy's Resurrect Dead is a documentary film that follows three intrepid fellows who try to track down the person (or persons) behind the infestation of hundreds of tiles embedded in the streets of a dozen American cities (as well as a handful in South America).  Said tiles contain an obtuse message that references Stanly Kubrick's 2001 A Space Odyssey as well as a peculiar theory of how to raise the dead from  British Historian, Arnold Toynbee.  Most of the tiles read:

" Toynbee Idea
In Movie 2001
Resurrect Dead
On Planet Jupiter" 

Lead by the charismatic, if somewhat eccentric, Justin Duerr, our makeshift Hardy Boys (Duerr, Colin Smith and Steve Weinik) scour the internet to come up with something - anything - that might help them discover the identity of the Tile Master.  One of the more disturbing pieces they come up with is a unique tile which refrains from the usual Toynbee message and instead reads like some sort of bizarre manifesto.  Indeed, the rantings reveal someone who might not only be suffering from paranoid delusions, but is also an Anti-Semite.  Be that as it may, eventually several names come up as well as an address that leads the trio to a row-home in South Philadelphia where the investigators engage several of the colorful locals as to the whereabouts and comings and goings of one particularly odd neighbor.  

Eventually, the guys come across several other fascinating leads including a brief mention in Clark DeLeon's column in The Philadelphia Inquirer as to who the Tile Master may be; a local who insists that his television once broadcast strange messages about the Toynbee theory; a one act play by David Mamet called Four A.M. (that may have been inspired by an actual phone call that the Tile Master made to a radio talk show) ; and  a possible theory as to how this guy manages to implant tiles onto busy streets (include one right outside the Holland Tunnel in New York City), with out being seen.

Ultimately, Resurrect the Dead is a story about the obsession with ideas that not only possess the troubled mind of one lonely man in South Philadelphia, but also how that obsession can transfer itself to those who want to know more about the man and what drove him to that obsession in the first place.


In Honor Of What Would Have Been His 66th Birthday, Here's a Divine Flashback!

Grande Dame Guignol: The Grandest Dame of Them All (originally posted 4/10/2010)

While younger generations may only be vaguely aware of Divine as the original Edna Turnblad, the 60's hausfrau whose full figure daughter finds fame and social awareness thanks to a dance show in John Water's Hairspray (a role later bastardized by John Travolta in the musical version), many of us recall Divine's less family-friendly roles where she usually played unstable, homicidal, maniacal mother figures; the kind of woman who would stop at nothing to keep her twisted world in tact. 

1970's Multiple Maniacs finds Lady Divine, the ring leader of a traveling group of freaks who bring their "cavalcade of perversion sideshow" to the suburbs so that the well scrubbed can stare at homosexuals, drug addicts, foot fetishists and various other odd balls in a circus tent.  However, once the show is over, many of the audience members are kidnapped, robbed and murdered by Lady Divine's troupe.  What's even more disturbing is that Lady Divine and her gang have been taking credit for a series of murders that occurred a few years earlier in Los Angeles (That would be the Manson murders).  Once the word gets out that Lady Divine and crew were not the people who killed Sharon Tate and company, she begins a slow decent into madness that includes (among other things), getting a "Rosary job" in a Catholic Church on Good Friday (you just have to take my word, that this is one of the most appalling things ever put on film).  Later on, a crazed and delusional Lady Divine finds herself  being raped by a giant lobster...
...now, totally off her nut, our heroine is roaming the streets of Baltimore, foaming at the mouth, carrying an axe and threatening the public until she is set up on by an angry mob...

and gunned down by the National Guard (while Kate Smith warbles God Bless America on the soundtrack).
Several years later, John Water's brought back his leading lady in another epic, Pink Flamingos.  Here we find Divine playing Babs Johnson, a hefty beauty living a happy existence in a dilapidated trailer house somewhere in the woods of Maryland.  Babs lives with her mentally ill - egg-craving- mother (the inimitable Edith Massey), her psychotic son, Crackers (Danny Mills) and her blond bombshell "traveling companion", Cotton (Mary Vivian Pierce).  Pleased that she and her clan are known as "The Filthiest People Alive", Babs spends her time shoplifting steaks and hiding them in her panties, taking dumps on people's lawns, and faking out hitchhikers (slowing down as if she were going to give them a lift, and then leaving them in the dust once they approach the car door).  And then, one day, word gets out about a couple named Connie and Raymond Marble (Mink Stole and David Lochary); who kidnap women, chain them up in their basement, have their servant impregnate them, and then sell the babies to lesbian couples.  Babs is outraged that anyone might steal her title and war is declared!
Of course, there is still time for fun - so when Bab's celebrates her birthday and receives a bottle of RID, and a pig's head, and listens to a "singing asshole" (trust me, you don't want to know)  it's all fun and games ... until the Marbles call the police who raid the party - but Bab's and her guests overpower the cops...
...tear them limb from limb, and eat them!  Now it's on, and Babs will stop at nothing to bring down the marbles.  At one point, she breaks into their home, and she and her son start licking the house from top to bottom so that the Marble's home might "reject" them...
...this scene ends with Babs bestowing upon her son "the greatest gift a mother can give"; yup, she sucks him off - do you think I am making this up?  Be that as it may, Babs and her family set the women in the basement free, kidnap the Marbles and execute them before the press and then decide to beat a hasty retreat to Boise Idaho...However, while on their way to the bus station, Babs spies a dog doing it's thing on the sidewalk, and since she's craving a snack she, well, she helps herself to a taste of what fido has left behind.
Finally, if there were any justice in the world, Divine would have won an Oscar for her role as Dawn Davenport in 1974's Female Trouble.  The tragic and violent tale of a woman who goes from teenage hell-raiser to a deluded mass murder craving fame at any price, is probably Divine's finest performance.  After she runs away from home on Christmas morning (after knocking her mother out and tossing the Xmas tree on top of her) Dawn meets up with Earl Peterson (also played by Divine), a nasty brute in soiled underwear, who takes her to a dump, screws her, and leaves her pregnant and broke...
...after her baby is born (whom she dub's "Taffy") Dawn finds that she needs to earn money as she is now a single mother.  She works as a waitress and an exotic dancer for awhile, but finds that there is much more money to be made as cat burglar - so along with her pals, Chicklet and Concetta, (Cookie Muller and Susan Walsh), the threesome mug bums in the alley, and steal television sets to make ends meet.
Still, it's tough being a loving mother, so one day, after little Taffy has worked Dawn's last nerve, she ties the moppet to her bed (after beating her with a car antenna) , and upon the advice of her friends goes to get her hair done at The Lipstick Beauty Salon - once there, Dawn meets, and instantly falls in love with the only heterosexual hairdresser employed there, Gator (Michael Potter) - the two have a whirlwind romance, and marry much to the chagrin of Gator's aunt Ida (Edith Massey) who would be much happier if her nephew "was a queer".  Unfortunately, the marriage falls apart and Dawn and Gator divorce and somehow Dawn finds herself a pawn in the plans of the owners of the beauty salon, Donald and Donna Dasher (David Lochary and Mary Vivian Pierce) .  This oddball duo worm their way into Dawn's life and on one fateful evening they witness her smash a chair over her now adult daughter's head (Taffy now played by Mink Stole)...
...the Dasher's photograph this event and then later, when Aunt Ida shows up and throws battery acid in Dawn's face, they photograph that event as well...
...the Dashers convince Dawn that her disfigurement has made her more beautiful, and they want to photograph her new face while committing crimes ("crime is beauty" they claim).  Furthermore the Dasher's start a new beauty regiment with Dawn; liquid eyeliner, that they show Dawn how to mainline.  By now, whatever grasp on sanity she might have once had is out the window, and Dawn is stark raving mad - sure that she is the most gorgeous woman in the world!
When she gets home from the hospital, Dawn finds hat the Dasher's have imprisoned Ida in a bird cage at her house and talk her into chopping off the woman's hand.  Again, she is photographed while doing the deed...this only makes Dawn even more crazed, and between her addiction to liquid eyeliner, and her love of notoriety there is no turning back.
Finally, on the night of Dawn's big one woman show, she strangles her daughter (who has now become a Hare Krishna devote) and then proceeds to the stage doing trampoline jumps, and claiming that she "blew Richard Speck"...
...now totally, out of her mind, Dawn pulls out a pistol and screams, "Who want's to die for art?" and begins shooting into the crowd who have come to see her.  Panic ensues and the police are called - Dawn goes on the lam but is eventually caught and brought to court...
...where she discovers that the Dasher's have used the photographs as evidence of her crimes and turned against her.  Still, in her scrambled mind, she thinks that she is the top fashion model of the world, and when she is found guilty and given the electric chair, to her, it's the equivalent of an Academy Award...
 ...her final words :

I'd like to thank all the wonderful people...that made this great moment in my life come true. My daughter Taffy, who died..in order to further my career My friends Chicklette and Concetta..who should be here with me today. All the fans who died so fashionably...and gallantly at my nightclub act. And especially all those wonderful people...who were kind enough...to read about me in the newspapers...and watch me on the television news shows. Without all of you...my career could never have gotten this far. It was you that I burn for...and it is you that I will die for. Please remember...I love every fucking one of you.


Divine, of course, was a persona created and owned by the late, great Harris Glenn Milstead. 


Horror Porn Comes to Haddonfield!

A while back, I posted on the Halloween XXX rated parody that the fine folks at Smash Pictures were putting together, I posted some stills from the film, and remarked on how incredibly good the locations and sets seemed to look.  Well, hold onto your Kleenex and baby oil, wankers, becuase the preview is up and, boy howdy, all things considered, it looks like they did a damn good job!   You'll notice lines of dialouge lifted directly from the original film, and even some stunningly familiar looking exterior shots (check out that hedge!).  Granted, Michael  seems a tad skinny, and his mask appears a bit large for his head, but what the heck, any skin flick that takes this much time paying homage to its source material can't be all bad!


Hope for the Zombie Genre

Constant readers of this blog know of my love/hate relationship with all things zombie.  There was a time when I found the reanimated, flesh eating corpse one of the most terrifying things in the horror genre.  And of course, George Romero deserves unending accolades for dreaming up the modern day zombie and setting it free to haunt our nightmares.

Unfortunately, these days, zombies are everywhere.  You've got your zombie walks, your zombie runs, your zombie cartoons, your zombie plush dolls, your zombie ice cream and, yes, even your zombie porn; and as such, a once blood curdling fantastic creature is now about as scary as a Smurf.  I half expect a Disney animated musical about zombies to show up one of these days.

That's why I am always surprised when I come across any zombie-themed work these days that is actually worth my time.  Happily, there are some works out there using the tired old shambler and infusing it with such spark and panache, one finds themselves understanding that all may not be lost when it comes to this genre.  For instance:

Tonight the AMC network begins season II of The Walking Dead, and if it's anywhere as good as last year's season, I think we are all in for a fun ride.  I was constantly impressed with the style of this series - great acting, believable characters, and, most importantly, terrifying zombies.  Of course like any good zombie tale, The Walking Dead gives us survivors that we can relate to; people who are not survivalist soldiers, but average Jane and John Doe-types driven to extraordinary measures to make it through the day (and night).

Colson Whitehead's Zone One is a witty, fatalistic novel concerning a post-zombie-Armageddon New York City where groups of clean-up crews sweep through the streets and office buildings eradicating the stray living dead in preparation for resettlement.  Presented in a non-linear style, Zone One is a narrative that uses its theme as an allegory for life in post 9/11 America.  Whitehead is a writer a million miles ahead of the pack, and that he decided to produce a novel like this one begs the question, "Why bother?"   The answer is found within the pages.  The hero known as "Mark Spitz" (it's an inside joke), seems coolly detached from the proceedings, even when he describes the events of his own personal, "Last Night" (the term used to describe the night the dead came back and everything went to hell).  Everyone has a "Last Night" story - where were you when the lights went out? - where were you when the planes hit the World Trade Center? - where were you when your neighbors started eating each other? - and soon those sad stores all seem to blend together. 

Despite it's rather lofty goals, Zone One also satisfies in terms of terror.  The scene in the book describing the fall of Broadway alone is one of the most sensational and breath taking descriptions of a nightmarish zombie infestation one might have ever read.

Do yourself a favor, read this book.

Kelly Jameson's Z=mc2: Time-Travelin' Zombies vs. the Garden State is an over-the-top, science fiction/horror, political satire novel that starts at a break neck speed, and just gets faster until it threatens to shatter the speed of light.  Set in the not so distant future (a future that amongst other things, features Sarah Palin as the President of these United States) , Z=mc2... tells the story of what happens when a dumpster behind a restaurant in the Pine Barrens of Southern New Jersey serves as  a portal that allows time traveling, genetically mutated zombies  to find there way to the Garden State to pick up some good eats.

Set in and around "The Pines", this novel is a kitchen-sink-stew of absurdity, laughs, gross outs, existential rants, and brilliant prose.  It's obvious that Jameson is using her story to satirize America (and South Jersey in particular), my only fear is that much of it might go over the casual reader's head (god knows, I had to go back re-read every few pages).

Any book that includes the zombie of Albert Eisenstein, chainsaw wielding bikini clad gals, and an institutionalized man  who quotes lines from Ed Wood's films, as well as  a portly attorney who goes by the name of Hilarius Fuchs (say that out loud) stands the chance of possibly becoming so character driven the reader may get a tad confused as to who's who and what's what.  And yet, despite the (seemingly) hundreds of characters populating Z=mc2..., Jameson never looses sight of the zombies.  Her monsters are brain eaters like we saw in Return of the Living Dead, and they are most certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Bottom line, if you want a change of pace in your zombie-lit experience, this is the book for you.  Also, I can't help but love the fact that all of the action is taking place in my back yard (full disclosure, I live just on the border of the infamous New Jersey Pine Barrens).


Dark Shadows for the A.D.D. Generation : AMERICAN HORROR STORY

From the fine folks who brought us Nip/Tuck and Glee, comes American Horror Story a sort of Dark Shadows for the A.D.D. generation.

After a miscarriage and an extramarital affair shakes the foundation of their once stable marriage, Dr. and Mrs. Harmon (and their angst riddled teen daughter)  flee Boston for L.A.  and take possession of a gorgeous Victorian home on the outskirts of the city.  

Of course everyone knows that gorgeous Victorian homes that sell at rock bottom prices (even in today's shattered economy) often come complete with supernatural shenanigans;  the Harmon home is no exception to this rule.   Almost before the realtor hangs up the sold sign, it's obvious that mayhem is afoot in the roomy dream home - in fact before the opening credits we discover that two little boys broke into the house in 1978 and were killed by someone (or something...more than likely, something) in the basement.  And when the realtor explains  that the former occupants (a gay couple) died in the house due to a murder / suicide ... well that's the point when you say to yourself, "shit I'd never purchase a property where something like that went down!"; of course you wouldn't , but this isn't about you, sunshine, is it?

Once the family is settled in things start going goofy...in fact so much happens, it's dizzying:
  • A young lady with Down Syndrome shows up in the kitchen with all kinds of dire warnings.
  • The young lady's mother, a failed movie actress (played with aplomb by Jessica Lange) also shows up and steals some silverware.
  • A satanic mural is discovered under the wallpaper in the living room.
  • A leather fetishist cat suit is found hanging in the attic.
  • Mr. Harmon (Dylan McDermott) walks around naked a lot in the middle of the night.
  • A middle-aged woman shows up claiming to be the housekeeper (Frances Conroy).  Oddly enough when Dr. Harmon sees her, she appears as a young hot-to-trot ( Alex Breckenridge) who seems hell bent on doing the nasty with the good doctor.
  • A ghostly daemon with a nasty set of choppers and some seriously long fingernails apparently attacks someone in the basement. 
  • Someone or something (again, more than likely something) dons the aforementioned catsuit and has sex with Dr. Harmon's wife.
  • A disfigured man chases Dr. Harmon down and tells him how he once lived in the same house, and how he set his wife and kids on fire because "the voices" told him to do so. 
Clearly the creative team on this one understand that today's audience does not want subtlety, nor do they want a single shot held for longer than a millisecond - hence, American Horror Story is filled with jump cuts, herky jerky camera movements, and is edited like an episode of ...well, Nip/Tuck or Glee.

And yet, in spite of all of this foolishness, American Horror Story's pilot episode kept me riveted.  The whole thing was done with such whiplash intensity, I felt like I was on some kind of fun house ride after dropping a hit of acid.  However, I can't help but wonder, will it be able to keep up the pace?  It seems odd that they'd throw so much at the viewer in the first hour...what can they possibly do to top this next week?  I think we are going to see something that's akin to Dark Shadows; a trashy soap opera that not only features a big spooky house, but eventually we'll see vampires, monsters, ghosts, and time travel! 

Another thing I noticed, and maybe it's just me, but most of the characters in L.A. seem like they might have walked in from different eras of horror/thriller films: The Maid (in her elder state) is something out of The Cat and the Canary, The loopy/sexy neighbor (Lange) seems to have walked out of one of those "Grande Dame Guignol" flicks from the early 60's, the deformed man brought echos of both The Shining and Burnt Offerings, the beastie in the basement conjured up thoughts of a half a dozen other films.  Also, the homages to other movies throughout this first episode are already legendary.  Scenes conjure up memories of Halloween, The Exorcist and even, Rosemary's Baby.  That said, could the makers of this program be setting us up for some kind of mind fuckery where every Hollywood Horror Theme is included?  It's not that far fetched.  Why set it in Los Angeles then? why call it American Horror Story then?

Whatever the case, whatever is up the sleeves of those involved, I'll be back next week to see what kind of deviltry is going on...and hoping that Jessica Lange is given even more scenery to chew up.



Billed as "The Ultimate Midnight Movie",  Chillerama is a sophomoric, stupid, sleazy, stunningly bad movie that somehow manages to be endearing and charming.  Imagine a 13 year old kid telling fart and dick jokes, but doing it with such enthusiasm and chutzpah he actually makes you laugh...yeah, it's kind of like that.

Clearly the bastard-cinematic-love-child of John Waters, Herschell Gordon Lewis and Roger Corman, Chillerama smacks you in the face, makes you grimace, makes you laugh, makes you sick to your stomach, and then reminds you how much fun bad movies can really be.

Directors, Adam Rifkin, Tim Sullivan, Adam Green and Joe Lynch have gleefully served up a smorgasbord of gory goofiness by setting their story at a drive-in theater's final night where several films from the private collection of the doomed drive in's owner are to be featured.  Unbeknownst to the theater's management  and patrons, a zombie plague is slowly spreading via some tainted popcorn.  But don't worry, that subplot will be resolved by film's end.

The movies being shown are homages/bastardizations of classic horror films from years past.  Wadzilla tells the tale of a monolithic sperm attacking Manhattan ; I Was a Teenage Werebear is a gay themed rip on beach party / teen monster flicks (with a not so subtle nod to Twilight) complete with musical numbers;  The Diary of Anne Frankenstein (which is probably Chillerama's best skit) is a hybrid of two classic films -that it is told entirely in German with subtitles, and that the actor playing Adolph Hitler (Joel Moore) speaks gibberish with a Germanic accent adds just the right touch of surreality to the proceedings.  Finally, Zom-B-Movie turns out to the be the thread that is tying this whole thing together...but sit tight, becuase...well, you'll see why.

Peppered with cameos throughout (Lin Shaye, Eric Roberts and Kane Hodder, to name a few), Chillerama's repulsive oeuvre are all technically witty (Wadzilla is shot in over-saturated colors like a late 60's low budget film might have been;   I Was a Teenage Werebear has a crisp, sunny look to it reminiscent of the Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello beach movies; The Diary of Anne Frankenstein is not only shot in black and white it actually sounds like a film from the 1930's - you'll have to trust me on this one, whoever did the sound mixing on that one was a genius) and decidely high camp.  If you're looking for serious scares, look elsewhere.

Finally then, Chillerama is sure to offend many:  Bare breasts abound, dick shots appear,  body parts are lopped off, zombies fuck people to death, gallons of semen drench people...and did I mention the mini movie that (thankfully) we only get a  brief glimpse of, the one called Deathacation ? Probably not, as that brief, but unforgettable section, made me wretch (you'll see why).   The thing to surviving a viewing of this obscene epic is a sense of humor and (possibly) a barf bag...also it couldn't hurt to be drunk as well.