Census Bloodbath: No, Canada

Year:
1985
Director:
George Mihalka
Cast:
Winston Rekert, Karen Black, John Novak
Run Time:
1 hour 25 minutes
MPAA Rating: R

Plot: Eternal Evil follows disaffected TV commercial director Paul Sharpe (Winston Rekert), who learns how to astral project from former dancer Janus (Karen Black, who should be a very familiar name for lovers of cult and horror cinema, and who we've already encountered for Census Bloodbath in The Last Horror Film). When people who have crossed him begin to die from severe internal hemorrhaging, Paul begins to suspect that he may be subconciously responsible, though he tries his best to keep this fact from the investigating detective Kauffman (John Novak). 

Analysis: Eternal Evil, also known as The Blue Man (this was two years before that phrase would have been associated with a "group" of any kind), was directed by George Mihalka. That might not necessarily mean anything to the casual reader, but I have been doing this for a long time, my friends, so I immediately clocked that he was the director of 1981's My Bloody Valentine, a very good movie to have been the director of. 

This also clued me into the fact this movie was Canadian, which should also have been a good sign, considering the fact that the Great White North has an unconscionably solid track record with the slasher genre. Unfortunately, sometimes people only have one home run in 'em. While this supernatural slasher movie came out after A Nightmare on Elm Street, it was almost certainly produced before the movie became a hit and taught slasher filmmakers that fantastical entries in the genre should also look fuckin' bonkers on top of being surreal.

What we get instead is a slasher that is so far afield from what a slasher actually does that the first 30 minutes had me convinced I had made a misstep at some point during the research that got this title on my list in the first place. The kills are few and far between, and when they do come, they are uniformly tedious, involving the victims grunting and falling over while the camera twirls around their heads and seems to peck at them like a hungry bird.

Slashers that feature killers with non-traditional M.O.s can definitely work. Just look at the delightful Murder by Phone. But these boring kills are but brief interludes between boring exposition scenes, including Kauffman watching a documentary that explains exactly what's going on about 45 minutes before anybody in the movie seems to twig to it. Honestly, it reads like one of those 1950s sci-fi B-movies that fancied themselves hard sci-fi and really took to the blackboard to teach you about everything that's going on in the story. Maybe Canadian audiences really needed a crash course on astral projection in 1985, but I sure didn't. Although... if a local 1980s TV news report about the advent of a wacky new food trend that I saw online is in any way accurate, the general public seemed to have similar trouble grasping the concept of a pizzeria back then, so if that was indeed the case, learning about astral projection was probably the equivalent of a year of grad school.

Anyway, it's dull and the cinematography is trying so hard that at first I thought I might like it until it kept reminding me of the cinematic overexuberance of a student film. Unfortunately, there is not much good to temper the bad. Karen Black is woefully underused until the glorious moment toward the where she is suddenly not. And there's exactly one striking shot in the movie. Which is also used for the poster, because everything you love to complain about Hollywood doing now was just as annoying back then.

It wasn't a terrible movie at the level of true bottom-of-the-barrel 1985 trash like Victims!, but it's absolutely a huge step down for Mr. Mihalka, who made one of the greatest masterpieces of one of the greatest years for slasher cinema. The only other thing I can point to about Eternal Evil that is even in the realm of "interesting," let alone "good," is the fact that it is definitely interested in queerness. It doesn't really understand it, but there's a lot of gender and sexuality fuckery going on that I would never have expected from an exploitation movie of this vintage.

Killer: Janus (Karen Black)

Final Girl: Paul Sharpe (Winston Rekert)

Best Kill: They're pretty much all the same, but at least the murder of Paul's father-in-law Bill involves a ghostly force slamming him against a wall, which is neat.

Sign of the Times: The majority of the score sounds like one of Depeche Mode's drum machines slowly falling down the stairs.

Scariest Moment: An astral voice that is controlling Paul's young son Matthew (who definitely has the shining) commands him to drink bleach.

Weirdest Moment: A quiet scene in Paul's home smash cuts to an adult man in a diaper talking directly to the camera. This turns out to be a commercial that Paul is shooting, but we haven't even learned what his job is at this point.

Champion Dialogue: “It's hard having an appetite when your food smells like paint stripper."

Body Count: 6

1. Dr. Meister is astral projected to death.
2. Bill Pearson is astral projected to death.
3. Jennifer is astral projected to death.
4. Scott is killed offscreen.
5. Monica is shot in the gut.
6. Janus is shot in the back of the head.

TL;DR: Eternal Evil is a muddled mess that takes up too much time on its way to nowhere in particular.

Rating: 4/10

Word Count: 931

Census Bloodbath: A Girl's Best Friend Is Her Sister

Note: The American VHS release of Psycho Girls was heavily edited (the mid-1980s were extremely unfriendly to gore, if you recall). The version I was able to get my hands on had the gore footage spliced back in from an Italian dub, leading to certain death scenes becoming intensely saturated halfway through, at which point the characters all started speaking Italian until the sequence was over with. If anything, this enhanced the experience, but be aware I was not capable of fully understanding the dialogue in those scenes. 

Year:
1986
Director:
Jerry Ciccoritti
Cast:
John Haslett Cuff, Darlene Mignacco, Rose Graham
Run Time:
1 hour 37 minutes
MPAA Rating: R

Plot: As told via the framing device of pulp novelist Richard Foster (John Haslett Cuff) at a typewriter explaining the story of That Terrible Day, Sarah Tusk (Darlene Mignacco) escapes from an asylum and murders her sister Victoria (Agi Gallus) - who poisoned their parents via breakfast in bed and blamed Sarah for it. She replaces Victoria as the cook for Foster and his wife Diane (Rose Graham), who are holding a dinner party for their anniversary.

In attendance are the obnoxious psychologist Dr. Dekker Wilson (Dan Rose), his Marxist wife Femme (Doren Ferber), failed screenwriter but professional womanizer Anthony Zippo (Frank Procopio), and his wannabe actress girlfriend Wendy Fields (Kim Cayer, who played an uncredited porn actress in Blue Murder). They are all drugged by Sarah and spirited away to the abandoned asylum where she spent 15 years, where she and her fellow escapees Kazma (Silvio Oliviero) and Waldo (who does not seem to be credited, unless he is the Pier Giorgio DiCicco who is mysteriously credited as the mononymous character "Tony") torture and kill the majority of them.

Analysis: Fun fact. This movie was made by the same guy who directed Netflix's Hot Frosty. This kind of thing is actually not uncommon these days, because Canadian tax shelter cinema changes with the times. What was once lucrative during the slasher boom is no longer en vogue, so plenty of former slasher filmmakers have transferred their attention to Hallmark and Hallmark-adjacent projects. Perhaps most notably, Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II screenwriter Ron Oliver has gone on to direct Christmas at the Plaza, A Timeless Christmas, Christmas Everlasting, and approximately 800 other movies with a straight white couple on the poster delivering Stepford smiles while wrapped in tinsel.

But let us not get bogged down in that strange corner of cinema history. If you've been paying attention to Census Bloodbath for any amount of time, I hope my mention of Canada had you pricking up your ears. That's right, the Great Blood-Red North, home to some of the best-ever examples of the 1980s slasher, is at it again. And by "it," I don't just mean saying "abote"an average of two dozen times per scene, though that does also happen here.

True to its lineage, Psycho Girls is considerably better than it really has any right to be. It's certainly not the cream of the crop like My Bloody Valentine, Visiting Hours, or the aforementioned Prom Night II, but for a grindhouse cheapie like this, it's downright extraordinary how many things go right. 

Those things do not include the acting or the cinematography, which are never abysmal but infrequently rise above "flat." However, the screenplay is absolutely tops. The dialogue writing here counts among the best of the entire genre, and it can thank its frequent homages to pulp fiction for the fact that it had like a dozen runners-up for my Champion Dialogue selection ("My head feels like it's got menstrual cramps," anyone?). The story isn't always great, because it loses any sense of forward momentum once the torture starts and the third act mainly involves lots of running around echoey hallways, but it's got a strong sense of character, a cheeky surprise ending, and an unrelenting approach to brutality.

And let me tell you, these kills are a lot. Even before the movie gets torturey and toenails are being pulled out and whatnot, it's a lot to swallow. The movie is chock full of intense, bloody, disturbing moments that really land, though thankfully they are delivered with a certain amount of Herschell Gordon Lewis glee rather than the grimdark drudgery of the latter Saw sequels. This brutal sensibility spills out into its general atmosphere, as well.

In fact, there might not be anything more intense than the opening scene where little Victoria poisons her parents, and that doesn't even feature any gore. What it does have is an appropriately off-kilter child performer giving a dead-eyed stare and asking her parents to come back and tell her what God looks like. I mean... holy shit. 

All in all, there is a lot going on here that really works, sometimes in spite of itself. Really, the only flaw I can find with this movie that it doesn't share with other low-budget horror movies of its ilk is the fact that we spend way too much time witnessing the Fosters' incredibly boring dinner party. But having sat through plenty of boring dinner parties in real life, I knew I had to just grin and bear it and pray for something interesting to happen. And you know what, it sure did happen.

Killer: Sarah Tusk (Darlene Mignacco) feat. Waldo (?) & Kazma (Silvio Oliviero)

Final Girl: Diane Foster (Rose Graham)

Best Kill: Dr. Hippocampus (don't ask) has this bizarre telescoping pair of shears attached around his neck that are slowly squeezed, messily decapitating him, which is then followed by a disgusting moment where Sarah is washing off his skull and seems to be whittling the remaining flesh off of the bone with a knife.

Sign of the Times: I'm not saying Chappell Roan didn't base her whole makeup look off the floor show drag that Sarah puts on for torturing her victims.

Scariest Moment: That murder via breakfast in bed is eerie as fuck.

Weirdest Moment: Diane and Richard rapidly lift weights while staring at one another and then have sweaty, writhey, single-artwork-for-Olivia-Newton-John's-Physical sex.

Champion Dialogue: “What's money, anyway, except paper with germs on it?"

Body Count: 13

1. Pearl and
2. Victor eat poisoned pancakes.
3. Head Matron has her throat ripped out by Sarah's teeth offscreen, as described later.
4. Dr. Hippocampus has his head severed with telescoping shears.
5. Victoria is stabbed with her own knife.
6. Anthony has his throat slashed with a straight razor.
7. Wendy is electrocuted in a tub.
8. Dekker is shot in the head.
9. Femme has her throat slit.
10. Sarah is stabbed with her own knife.
11. Waldo is garroted with a fire hose.
12. Kazma has his head smashed with a rock.
13. Roger is repeatedly struck with a meat cleaver.

TL;DR: Psycho Girls is astonishingly brutal and surprisingly sharp, which allows it to overcome what it lacks in filmmaking craft.

Rating: 7/10

Word Count: 1140

Census Bloodbath: Pieces Of April

Year: 1984

Director: Claudio Castravelli

Cast: Pamela Collyer, Jack Langedyk, Walter Massey

Run Time: 1 hour 33 minutes

MPAA Rating: R

Plot: Evil Judgment follows young waitress Janet (Pamela Collyer) as she begins to experiment with prostitution, following the lead of her friend April (Nanette Workman). On her very first job, a ménage à trois with the rich and mysterious Ron (Walter Massey of Happy Birthday to Me, Zombie Nightmare, and Eternal Evil), she begins to get a bad feeling and tries to back out, but not before a shadowy assailant murders both April and Ron. When the police, particularly Special Inspector Armstrong (Roland Nincheri of Terror Train, Visiting Hours, and Eternal Evil) insist that the attack was brought on by a drug stupor, she decides to take the investigation with her own hands, enlisting help from her mercurial, mobbed-up boyfriend Dino (Jack Langedyk).

Analysis: So between Evil Judgment and American Nightmare, mid-80's Canada really was obsessed with making films that were surprisingly forward-thinking when it comes to sex work. It's not like films that depict the murders of sex workers can be called feminist tracts, but positioning the lead characters as sex workers (or, in this case, someone who dabbled in sex work) and not specifically punishing them for that is a super fascinating choice for the time period. This particular entry holds up less well under the scrutiny of a modern lens, but it earns points by first and foremost telling a story about how the police actively support the rich and powerful rather than defending the poor or disenfranchised, especially women.

It's less focused as a slasher than as a conspiracy-lite thriller, though it does have more than its share of solid enough kills. They're all the same M.O., which does get a little repetitive, but when the slit throats are shown onscreen, the prosthetics that bring them to life are quite well done, with multiple gushes of blood coming from a single wound rather than the de rigueur "knife makes red line on neck." Luckily, the non-slasher parts of the movie sing in their own way, with snappy dialogue that watching over 200 low budget slasher films has not led me to expect. It's especially charming whenever it's delivered by Nanette Workman.

There is also an appealingly scuzzy nature to the side characters and the settings of Evil Judgment. The interstitial scenes involve people, say, turning the bar TV to the porn channel, or trying to solidify deals with various members of the mob. It's deeply peculiar, but if you like a grotty deep dive into what Canadians imagine are the sordid dealings of the American metropolis, it's something of a blast.

I think I ultimately would have liked the film even more if it had any sort of intentional aesthetic style. It's a blandly mounted thriller with only one deep focus shot (of Janet hiding around a corner from the killer) that's doing anything remotely interesting. And even that is compromised by a piss-poor color palette that makes the shadowy corner blend in too much with the beige tiling of the background. However, in spite of everything, it's an entirely charming little scuzzy movie that could, and I kind of had a blast sitting down with it.

Killer: Robertson (Walter Massey)

Final Girl: Janet (Pamela Collyer)

Best Kill: The nurse at the institution is almost fooled by the killer's doctor disguise, but notices that he's barefoot. She panics and tries to hit the emergency alarm but is killed before this can happen.

Sign of the Times: When Liz is closing the diner for the night, she has to use an adding machine.

Scariest Moment: Janet spies a sliver of a hulking figure reflected in the mirror in front of her.

Weirdest Moment: A disgruntled customer hates how the soup at the diner tastes so he unzips and pees in the bowl.

Champion Dialogue: "I know this great surgeon who'll give you back your virginity."

Body Count: 8

1. Doctor is strangled.
2. Nurse has her throat slit.
3. April has her throat slit.
4. Ron has his throat slit offscreen.
5. Cop has his throat slit offscreen.
6. Housekeeper has her throat slit offscreen.
7. Liz has her throat slit.
8. Robertson is shot to death.

TL;DR: Evil Judgment is a weird, scuzzy little movie, but in a way that is entirely appealing.

Rating: 6/10

Word Count: 722

Census Bloodbath: Welcome To The Snake Pit

Year: 1982

Director: Timothy Bond

Cast: Matt Craven, Jack Creley, Helen Hughes

Run Time: 1 hour 17 minutes

Plot: Till Death Do Us Part follows three married couples who have arrived at the isolated mansion of Dr. Sigmund Freed (Claude Jutra) for a weekend of radical couples counseling on the weekend between Good Friday and Easter. The house is run by Dr. Honora Freed (Toby Tarnow) and her mute younger brother Stephen (Dermot Stoker, who was a key grip on Friday the 13th: A New Beginning), who operates a bizarre control room. The couples in question are Dr. Susan (Candace O'Connor) and Robert Craig (James Leach), who are processing the loss of their son; Tony (Matt Craven of Happy Birthday to Me) and Ruth Archer (Rachel Wilkinson), who are trying to get a handle on his addiction to coke; and Wally (Jack Creley of Videodrome) and Edna Kroog (Helen Hughes of Visiting Hours, The Incubus, and The Amityville Curse), who are dealing with the fact that he's a lascivious creep and she's a nagging shrew. As bodies begin to pile up, all with crosses slashed into their foreheads, the couples begin to believe that something may be amiss at Dr. Freed's establishment.

Analysis: So. Till Death Do Us Part was the final film I needed to watch in order to fully catch up with films I missed from 1980, 1981, and 1982, following my fifth and (hopefully) final round of research for this project. It was by far the hardest to obtain, to the point that I had to acquire a VHS copy and a VCR to make this happen. Usually if a film is that difficult to track down, it's not worth tracking down. Trust me, I've been burned before. However, there was an element I hadn't accounted for: this is an obscure slasher VHS from Canada. The theorem posited by Tim Brayton, which I have had the opportunity to kick the tires on dozens of times, is that there is an inimitable magic to Canadian slasher filmmaking of the 1980s, and whatever X factor they provide usually helps those films rise above their American counterparts.

Well, that dictum has held true yet again. Even with the limitations of being a made-for-TV slasher movie, Till Death Do Us Part (whose director has had a typical career trajectory for a Canadian TV workman, going on to direct episodes of Friday the 13th: The Series in the 80's, Animorphs in the late 90's, and most recently helming a myriad of Hallmark Christmas movies) is pure bliss. I shouldn't be surprised. The TV slasher sub-subgenre should result in a lot of hollow, useless tripe, but has provided a weirdly robust slate of worthwhile projects, including Dark Night of the Scarecrow and Fantasies.

However, still color me surprised that Till Death Do Us Part is top to bottom compelling. Usually these TV slasher have to find a way to be interesting that aren't the kill sequences, and this film accomplishes that, but the kills are as singularly brutal as their bloodless execution could possibly allow, especially the opening kill that results in a woman being crucified in the upper branches of a tree. It helps that even the de rigueur kills like drowning are accompanied by that excellent organizing principal of crosses being carved onto the victims' foreheads, which both lends an air of creepiness to the proceedings and reminds viewers that this film has a screenplay with an actual consistent aim.

I've seen some people online classifying this film as a horror-comedy, which I think is a bit of a stretch (most of the "jokes" would be contained in the scenes of playful banter that precede the killings, which is an element found in most slashers, though I will give those people the excellent recurring gag where Freed reveals the titles of his published works). It's less "funny" than it is gonzo and weird, which is exactly the right move for a slasher that needs to keep its audience off kilter without pumping gallons of blood across the frame. 

There's an energy to this film that's like holding onto a live wire. From the absurd plot twists (that include undercover reporters, incest, and the truly delectable tossed-off reveal that Stephen isn't mute but "just shy") to the orgiastic pleasure with which the couples indulge in a game of Killer to the constant parade of shirtless men to Dr. Freed's incessant manic piano playing, there's constantly something going on onscreen that is well worth staring at in goggle-eyed wonder. There are also a few random moments of heartstring pulling in the subplot involving the Craigs that are more emotionally impactful than they have any right to be. 

The best way I could classify this movie is that it's like if the bloodless but playful plot structure of April Fool's Day was grafted onto the energetic dismissal of the limitations of low production value of Island of Blood. I would 100% classify this film as a hidden gem, with a single caveat. Before anyone is galvanized enough to start the journey into finding some way to watch this film, it's important to remember that these films are still graded on a sliding scale. If a weirdo mid-tier slasher isn't something that thrills you, Till Death Do Us Part still isn't going to be your thing. But if that's your bag, this film is an absolute thrill.

Killer: Dr. Honora Freed (Toby Tarnow)

Final Girl: Literally every woman except the maid and Dr. Honora.

Best Kill: I mean, who could resist the sweet delicious irony of Dr. Freed being konked on the head with the bust of himself that he keeps on his desk?

Sign of the Times: Two characters make a Deliverance reference out of nowhere.

Scariest Moment: Wally's attempts to flirt with Ruth at a garden party border on sexual assault.

Weirdest Moment: Dr. Susan decides she wants to make another baby the second she gets over the death of her son.

Champion Dialogue: "Geez, step on, you big goofball."

Body Count: 6

Martine is crucified in the upper branches of a tree.

Wally is hit on the head with a meat tenderizing mallet and falls down a well.

Carl is stabbed in the gut with a tire iron.

Tony is drowned in a jacuzzi.

Dr. Sigmund Freed is hit on the head with a bust of himself.

Dr. Honora Freed shoots herself.

TL;DR: Till Death Do Us Part is perhaps only excellent on the sliding scale of slasher enthusiasts, but it is excellent nonetheless.

Rating: 7/10

Word Count: 1096

Census Bloodbath: Dungeons And Draggin'

Year: 1983

Director: Ota Richter

Cast: David Calderisi, Thom Haverstock, Wendy Crewson

Run Time: 1 hour 35 minutes

MPAA Rating: R

We do tend to take it for granted around these here parts that Canadian slashers are on average of a higher quality than their American counterparts. One must remember that there are exceptions to the rule, but that's how one gets an average, folks! Even the shittiest Canadian movies tend to have a handmade feel, however, which is quite nice. And there's a sense of camaraderie you don't get from the states. Because the Canadian film industry was so small at the time, there are always familiar faces lurking around behind and/or in front of the camera. Any Canadian slasher from the early 80's feels like a big group of friends putting on yet another show for you. It'll be interesting to see how well any of that holds up to Skullduggery, which is so egregiously terrible it defies all reason.

Maybe that was mean, but I'm American, baby! Expect it.

Skullduggery was clearly born from the impulse to exploit the satanic panic of the 80's, in which god-fearing, red-blooded American parents worried about pop culture turning their kids to Satanism through music, film, and (shudder) Dungeons & Dragons. This is essentially a Canadian counterpart to the Tom Hanks TV movie Mazes & Monsters, the anti-tabletop game propaganda piece that had come out the year before. The big difference between this and that pedestrian work is that Skullduggery doesn't make a lick of goddamn sense.

Sure, it's ostensibly about Adam (Thom Haverstock of Terror Train), an allegedly charismatic young man who gets overly invested in the unnamed role-playing game he and his friends play in the back room of his workplace, the Sluszarczuk Costume House. He begins to have a hard time separating fantasy and reality, and carries out the violent missions of his character out there in real life. Oh, and it's implied that he's a member of a cursed bloodline that resulted from a magician's coup in 1382 Canterbury, though that figures so little into the plot that they might as well have cut all that stuff and spared me a good 7 minutes of wasted time.

The other players of the game get about 15 seconds of screentime every 30 minutes or so (it's an extremely peculiar move that they are neither corrupted by the game or on the chopping block), but some notable characters who pop up during Adam's sojourns into the "real world" (this film's idea of reality is about as Lynchian as it gets) are Simco the Magician (James Coburn of Mark of Cain and NOT The Great Escape), who creepily wanders around performing shitty sleight of hand to the awe and delight of everyone; Madame Kardos (Denise Fergusson of Killer Party and The Incubus), a fortune teller who predicts his woeful path; and Mike, who isn't actually important, except I wanted to mention him because he's played by Michael Tough of Prom Night.

Adam also has a best friend/quasi-girlfriend Barbara (Wendy Crewson, also of Mark of Cain) who does less than nothing, though she frequently does it in this outfit that makes her look like she's delivering a message that will self destruct in ten seconds.

She might also watch someone through a pair of eyeholes cut into a newspaper, should the opportunity arise.

Skullduggery wants to do a lot. It probably should have started with executing its basic premise properly, but there's no use crying over spilled blood. Not content with just being about the danger of Dungeons & Dragons, it also sees fit to fold in the wickedness of the "devil horns" hand gesture and that urban legend about razor blades in apples on Halloween. As if its focus wasn't split enough, it also has the sickening urge to be a wacky comedy.

Too too often, they crank up the circus music as they drop puns about the Brooks Brothers or murder suspects being covered in ketchup rather than blood. This lack of investment in committing to neither pure horror nor pure comedy is ultimately what deflates Skullduggery to a withered husk of a film. The tones melt together into an incomprehensible mash, sending poor Adam spinning deliriously through an endless barrage of strange, disjointed sequences that have no relation to each other, the world we live in, or the language of narrative film as we know it.

Take the sexy nurse, who is in the predictable slasher situation of being screwed by a doctor on top of a gurney. It's not until the post-coital cigarette that we learn the doctor is dressed in a full-body gorilla suit, at which point he does a Humphrey Bogart impression and vanishes from the movie, save for a brief cameo later on. This certainly is random, but it isn't funny. And Skullduggery approaches "scary" even less than it ever does "funny."

There are quite a few kills in the movie, but all but one of them are ridiculously poorly conceived. Adam will brandish a knife so tiny it's invisible to the camera lens, lunge it vaguely toward an unidentified body part, and then the owner of that body part falls over. My body count section is an absolute hash, because it's nigh-on impossible to tell what's actually going on.

In his defense, he does wear a bunny suit during one of these moments, at least.

Really, Skullduggery just leaves us with a lot of questions: Why are we forced to watch a full 25-minute local talent show? Why is there so much Adam and Eve imagery? Why did this movie need its very own original theme song and who paid for it? And dear god why is there so much business about Barbara having a rash on her ankle when it doesn't actually come to anything? The one thing I have no questions about is the pre-talent show shot of two men in sailor suits carefully applying lipstick on one another. That can stay.

I don't think I've seen a more incoherent slasher film, and clarity is at the bottom of this genre's list of strong suits. At least we can rest easy that Skullduggery is much more effective anti-Dungeons & Dragons propaganda than Mazes & Monsters, because it makes the game and its players seem unspeakably boring. 

Killer: Adam (Thom Haverstock)

Final Girl: Barbara (Wendy Crewson) is a girl and she lives so I guess that counts

Best Kill: Unfortunately the lead-in to this kill is an attempted rape, but Adam does one-up Bay of Blood and Friday the 13th Part 2 with an unprecedented triple skewer sex kebab.

Sign of the Times: Two of the gamers show up to a session with fake arrows through their heads, proclaiming themselves to be "wild and crazy knights!"

Scariest Moment: Adam chases a nurse around her apartment, spraying steam at her from her iron.

Weirdest Moment: When a nurse is running for her life, she screams for help at the window, but the man inside, who is playing the organ in a sparkly red Liberace jacket, ignores her.

Champion Dialogue: "I've got a raccoon in my pants, would you like to set it free?"

Body Count: 17; not counting three people who walk through a spooky neon door and may or may not have been found dismembered in a fish tank later. That's by far the most unclear murder moment so I won't commit to categorizing any specifics. Oh, also there's a body that swings down from a doorway at some point that is either a previously unseen murder victim or the killer in disguise. This is also super unclear, but the body count is really big enough as-is.

1. Courtier #1 is magic-stabbed.
2. Courtier #2 is magic-stabbed.
3. King is fed a poison apple but also maybe stabbed a bit.
4. Carmen is either constricted by a snake or dies of a heart attack.
5. Madame Kardos is either stabbed in the throat or dies of a heart attack.
6. Nurse Evelyn is stabbed in the neck.
7. Nurse is stabbed to death.
8. Costume Lady is stabbed to death.
9. Irene is hacked to death.
10. Female Partygoer is sprayed in the face with steam.
11. Hawaiian Girl,
12. Bouncer in White Sleeveless Shirt,
13. and Bouncer in Black Sleeveless Shirt are skewered on the same spear.
14. Cop #1 is killed offscreen.
15. Cop #2 is garroted.
16. Herring is shot with an arrow.
17. Chuck is stabbed in the gut.

TL;DR: Skullduggery is an incoherent, unfunny, unscary collapsed soufflé of a horror-comedy.

Rating: 2/10

Word Count: 1418

Census Bloodbath: Eh-Merica

Year: 1983
Director: Don McBrearty
Cast: Lawrence Day, Lora Staley, Neil Dainard
Run Time: 1 hour 28 minutes
MPAA Rating: R

American Nightmare might just be the most Canadian slasher movie ever made, and that includes the title that cravenly wants you to think it's from the U.S. In front of and behind the camera is a coterie of Canadian slasher royalty, including screenwriter John Sheppard (Mark of Cain), producer Paul Lynch (who directed Prom Night and Humongous), composer Paul Zaza (Prom Night, My Bloody Valentine, Ghostkeeper, Curtains, and Body Count), and the word "abote." And the director doesn't have other credits in this marathon, but he does in another because somehow, some way he ended up directing a million Hallmark Christmas movies including Pride, Prejudice, and Mistletoe.

Now it's the accepted party line that Canadian slashers are of a piece a step above their American brethren, so let's kick the tires on that theory with the ne plus ultra of Canadian crews, shall we?

Pour some maple syrup on your popcorn and get to reading.

In American Nightmare, Eric (Lawrence Day) arrives in an unnamed American city (Toronto) to investigate the disappearance of his sister Isabelle (Alexandra Paul). He quickly discovers that she has been mixed up in the seedy underbelly of the city, namely a local strip club. The local detective (Mike Ironside, better known to everyone who isn't the credits designer on this movie as Michael Ironside, also of Visiting Hours and Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II) isn't super invested, so Eric enlists the help of stripper with a heart of gold Louise (Lora Staley).

All the while, a killer wearing an evil beret and a pair of clear gloves is stalking people involved in the club, including dancers Tina (Lenore Zann of Happy Birthday to Me, Visiting Hours, and Murder by Phone) and Andrea (Claudia Udy of Edge of Sanity and Skullduggery), as well as transvestite Dolly (Larry Aubrey). Oh, and also Eric's father Hamilton Blake (Tom Harvey) owns a TV station with his business partner Tony (Neil Dainard of The Incubus) that is putting on a huge New Year's Day telethon for UniSave, which is something something underprivileged children. Suspects include Tina's boyfriend Mark (Page Fletcher of Humongous), and literally any other man onscreen for any amount of time.

Men! What would we do without them?

There are two types of exploitation slasher movies. There is the kind where everyone is in on the joke and ready to have fun embracing the over-the-top ridiculousness of it (usually teenybopper sex romps full of boobs and bloody murder ie. Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter), and then there is the kind where everything is just grimy and sleazy and makes you want to take a shower afterward (anything focused on horrible rape, sweat dripping down a maniacal man's face, etc., ie. Don't Answer the Phone). It's all a matter of tone.

American Nightmare is somewhere in the middle. It doesn't have the finesse of Visiting Hours to position itself as a commentary on the misogyny of its killer, or the benefit of having a female director like the later (but similar) Stripped to Kill. But it has its merits in its own idiosyncratic, lopsided way. In the negative column, the kills are more brutally functional than creative (lots of slits throats and angry choking), and are thus pretty rough to watch. It's easier to watch annoying upper middle class teenagers get bumped off than sex workers who deserve better. Don't ask me why. Slasher viewer ethics are a gray area at all times.

But, on the plus side, American Nightmare takes the Stripped to Kill approach of including burlesque sequences that are of course meant to titillate, but also have an explicit interest of showing off a variety of talented women expressing themselves. And the characterization of the women is deeper than one might expect from the slasher genre. Hell, just a few entries ago, we reviewed Boardinghouse, where every female character was like the Phoebe Cates pool scene from Fast Times at Ridgemont High had a baby with a wooden block.

There is a great deal of empathy in the portrayals here, especially Louise, who genuinely likes her job even though in some respects she is trapped in it (note the freedom she feels while performing topless vs. the torment and horror when she attends a TV audition and is forced to take off her clothes - powerfully performed by Staley). This movie posits that sex workers are real people with real feelings who deserve respect, even as it brutally punishes them with violent death. In a way, the movie is doing its job. It makes you care for its characters (including Dolly, who would probably have identified as transgender in a modern milieu, and is given an unusual depth of emotion for 1982) and thus infuses the murder scenes with extremely high stakes. 

Maybe it's harder for the slasher genre to express both sides of the body count coin when it's dealing with typically oppressed people, because - intentional or not - the themes of these movies do tend to politically align the audience in some way with the killer's actions. Note how the killer only targets women and queer people, not the straight white pimp who is actually responsible for the crime he wants revenge against.

Honestly I don't have an answer here. Let me move on before this becomes a full-on thesis.

There's a great deal of good or at least above average in American Nightmare. It's frequently well lit and occasionally throws in a pretty shot or two for good measure. And it's part of a time honored slasher tradition of being a secret Christmas movie (the impending telethon is on New Year's Day after all, and there are some threadbare Christmas trees tucked into corners). Plus Lenore Zann is intensely compelling with her huge, glistening doe eyes.

Honestly, the only weak spots in the acting are Day and Harvey as father and son. Their climactic confrontation is frankly baffling to witness. One flatly intones accusations while the other mutters lines under his breath that should have been shouted. It's all very high school one act festival. But really the only thing holding me back from giving this a full-fledged 7/10 is the extremely complicated feelings that led me to philosophize for objectively too many paragraphs earlier. All in all, not a bad start for my first real attempt at tackling 1983!

Killer: Tony Shaw (Neil Dainard)
Final Girl: Louise (Lora Staley)
Best Kill: I can't say I really liked any of these kills, but Dolly's murder, where they are lifted off the ground by the killer's sheer strength is pretty impactful.
Sign of the Times: There's a loooooot of business with VHS tapes going on.
Scariest Moment: The killer puts on vinyl gloves right after washing his hands, which I can tell you from experience over a year of quarantine is a recipe for disaster.
Weirdest Moment: Eric sits down to a movie marathon of his sister's sex tapes (to discover the identity of the killer, but still).
Champion Dialogue: "Things are really bumming out for me."
Body Count: 6

1. Isabelle has her throat slashed with a straight razor.
2. Andrea is drowned in the bathtub.
3. Dolly is stabbed in the gut.
4. Tina has her throat slit.
5. Hamilton Blake shoots himself.
6. Tony Shaw is pushed off a roof.

TL;DR: American Nightmare is grossly exploitative, but also has a surprisingly deep approach to character that redeems it somewhat.
Rating: 6/10
Word Count: 1258

Census Bloodbath: Keep It

Year:1982
Director: Jim Makichuk
Cast: Riva Spier, Murray Ord, Sheri McFadden
Run Time: 1 hour 29 minutes
MPAA Rating: R

Holiday-themed movies are anything but uncommon in the 80's slasher genre. The only thing odd about encountering one set on New Year's Eve as we continue our journey through 1982 is the fact that the entire film isn't built around the holiday. In fact, I've never seen Ghostkeeper on any list of holiday slashers. Sure, it barely uses any tropes or signposts of the holiday beyond a couple mentions of the year to come, but that doesn't stop people from recognizing that same year's Humongous for taking place on Labor Day, something only mentioned in a title card. To find out why this movie isn't getting its name out there, let's dive in deeper, shall we?

Oops. Too deep! Too deep!

Ghostkeeper is not as lurid as the title might make it sound, but it's still a slasher that goes pretty damn far off model. For one thing, the potential body count is stymied by an incredibly small cast. Three city folk - Jenny (Riva Spier), whose only character trait is that her mother was institutionalized and she worries about her own mental health; Marty (Murray Ord), Jenny's boyfriend who is an unbelievably douchey prep; and Chrissy (Sheri McFadden), a sexed-up blonde who transparently wants to sleep with Marty - go off snowmobiling while bored on the morning of New Year's Eve. When the snow starts coming down hard, they hole up at Deer Lodge, an abandoned ski resort higher up in the mountains.

They think they're alone, but they soon meet an old woman credited only as Ghostkeeper (Georgie Collins), who spends a lot of time refusing to answer their questions in anything but gruff, elliptical vagaries. She also mentions she has a son hanging around her somewhere. Naturally, the young folks begin dying, but with such a small platter of meat, this takes a bit longer than usual. It begins to come to light (pretty much only because of a title card explaining it before the credits even roll) that this lodge is now the home of a windigo, described in this case as a "ghost who lives on human flesh." This doesn't really matter because the director ran out of money before being able to include pretty much anything actually with the windigo, who is depicted in the few shots he's in as a man with a bunch of dirt on his face.

Spoooooooky.

Ghostkeeper is an early 80's slasher hailing from Canada (which I could have told you even without looking it up, thanks to the copious "sore-y's," "eh's," and the presence of composer Paul Zaza), and that's usually a good sign. But there's a reason it ain't ending up on any Canadian slasher lists either: nobody wants to claim this movie for themselves.

The movie starts off by banking a whole bunch of goodwill. The chilly, snowbound atmosphere is a fun wintry blanket to wrap yourself up in, and the Deer Lodge is an excellent location. There's something deeply alluring about abandoned places, and the trio's exploration of empty restaurants and ballrooms is eerily enticing. If anything, this setting draws a straight line between the elegant chills of The Shining and the frigid slasher efficacy of Cold Prey.

Unfortunately, once the plot kicks in, Ghostkeeper almost immediately begins to squander all that goodwill. The slasher movie mainstay of having characters wander down dark hallways arrives in full force here, padding the time that should have been filled with more kills, then the time where there should have been a monster. Essentially, if there's a genre we can call "Hallway," Ghsotkeeper fits into that way more than it does "Horror."

Exhibit A.

It's a shame, because there are some solid elements floating around in the primordial ooze that could be creepy if they were implemented properly. For a film so cheap and so devoted to not actually killing anybody, there are some really decent gore effects. They don't push the envelope in any way, but they're rendered with more realism than one might reasonably expect from a C-picture like this. And I do want to commend the work of Georgie Collins, whose hoarse whisper and erratic physical performance craft a character who is uncanny and exhilarating to be around.

Unfortunately, her screen time is relatively small, and the other characters are wallpaper when they're not being exquisitely irritating. Jenny's constant monologuing about her vague sub-Hereditary backstory fail to crack onto any sort of pathos, Chrissy is shallow and vapid, and Marty is perhaps the most casually cruel individual to ever walk the earth. It's a curiosity why any woman would be interested in anything about him other than his jawline. He mercilessly mocks any living being he finds himself in close contact with, and has two moments alone with Jenny where he behaves almost like a mad dictator.

Ghostkeeper is a profoundly empty movie, a fact that's made even more painful by the way it squanders an excellent setting and a promising villain. It's far from the worst slasher I've watched for this project. It's not even the worst slasher of the summer of '82. But I can't think of any reason to recommend it to anybody at any time. Maybe if you're a completist of the smallish sub-subgenre of New Year's Horror, but I'm afraid if that's the case, you're even more far gone than Yours Truly.

Killer: Ghostkeeper (Georgie Collins), her son, and oddly not the Windigo
Final Girl: Jenny (Riva Spier)
Best Kill: Chrissy is drowned in the bathtub, but when the movie cuts back to her she's still alive for some reason so her throat is slashed, in a pretty solid effect.
Sign of the Times: The waist of Jenny's pants might literally be high enough to cover her nipples.
Scariest Moment: During a fireside hangout, Marty begins to sing a horribly racist parody of the Mexican song "Cielito Lindo," which is a pretty deep thing to know if you're gonna be a bigot.
Weirdest Moment: After Jenny kills the Ghostkeeper's son, Marty goes completely mad and rubs grease all over his face, babbling incoherently.
Champion Dialogue: "I should learn never to go places with geological engineers."
Body Count: 6; 2 by the son, 1 by the mother, 2 by Jenny, and 1 by an act of nature.

1. Man is speared in the gut.
2. Chrissy has her throat slashed.
3. Ghostkeeper's Son is impaled on a metal fence.
4. Hiker is stabbed.
5. Ghostkeeper is shot in the gut.
6. Marty freezes to death.

TL;DR: Ghostkeeper starts off strong, but deflates slowly across its tedious run time.
Rating: 3/10
Word Count: 1114

Census Bloodbath: Toronto Is Burning

Year: 1987
Director: Robert Bouvier
Cast: David Adamson, Lee Ann Nestegard, Edward Chester
Run Time: 1 hour 25 minutes
MPAA Rating: R

In my non-blogging time, I’ve been doing a bit of a unit on LGBT horror films, for my own personal edification. But as you may have noticed with my Cruising review, sometimes this marathon collides with Census Bloodbath in a delightful and surprising way. This entry was particularly unexpected: on a birthday trip to Amoeba Records in Los Angeles I picked up a copy of the hard-to-find City in Panic because I knew I’d never see it anywhere else. It wasn’t until I read the back cover that I discovered just how thematically appropriate the movie was.

You see, the film’s original title was The AIDS Murders. It’s not something that inspires much confidence in the subject matter, but it’s the first contemporary horror movie I’ve seen that directly and explicitly referenced the AIDS epidemic of the early 80’s that claimed the lives of many members of the gay community. It certainly wasn’t a sensitive document, but it was a document nonetheless, so I was eager to see what it had to offer.

Being a forgotten 80’s slasher, the answer was – as usual – not much.

City in Panic takes on a format we’ve seen in many a slasher before and since. Just like the protagonists in Don’t Answer the Phone, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, and Psycho IV, Dave Miller (David Adamson) is a radio host. His controversial talk show, Speak Up, has mostly been used to criticize alarmist journalist Alex Ramsey (Peter Roberts), as he details the exploits of a serial killer who has been terrorizing the city and putting it in the aforementioned panic.

While Dave and his guests endlessly discuss the killer’s motivation and society’s role in fostering it, gay men around the city are being stabbed to death. The murderer, known only as M (named after the Fritz Lang film from which they draw inspiration, an unusually deep cut for a sleazy slasher) seems to be targeting people suffering from AIDS. While these killings go on, we also follow Dave through his depressing bachelor life. Of the three or four interchangeable blonde women he interacts with, the one we spend the most time on is Liz (Lee Ann Nestegard), an ex who is now Alex Ramsey’s assistant.

Will that cause friction between them? And does anybody care?

The foremost takeaway from City in Panic is that they have no clue how AIDS worked or how to properly represent it. To be fair, I’m not certain if the difference between HIV and AIDS was widely known in 1986, but City in Panic certainly is not aware of the distinction, characterizing the disease as a sort of cough that makes you a little pale. The only remarkable thing about this representation is that it acknowledges that women can suffer from AIDS as well, and other than a cop who flies off the handle in literally every second of every scene he’s in, the characters aren’t particularly homophobic. So that’s a start.

Unfortunately, in spite of its Canadian pedigree, City in Panic doesn’t boast much that separates it from the pack of low-rent, mid-80’s cheapies. And what little there is quickly falls away after the first couple of scenes. The first murder is literally a shot-for-shot recreation of the Psycho shower scene only with a male victim, which is a pretty brass-balled way to open a film, and the killer is reasonably giallo-esque, cutting a sleek silhouette with a face-obscuring black hat and matching cloak. But the more plot-oriented the film gets, the further it falls into the gutter.

It’s not like the semi-stylish murder sequences are the work of a master (they’re ineptly cut, keeping the gore offscreen so demurely that the geography is completely inscrutable), but I’d much rather rewatch the scene where a man is slashed to death while doing upside-down situps on a pull-up bar than slog through a single one of the film’s copious, dire dialogue scenes. For one thing, the sound designer is trying this fun experiment to see how long a viewer can physically keep paying attention while every line of dialogue is drowned out by keening music, background sirens, or even just some particularly robust white noise. For another thing, the script is incredibly repetitive and tedious to begin with.

I really feel like I should earn some sort of medal when I complete this project.

Occasionally, the ineptitude of the cinematography accidentally stumbles across something strange and exciting, like the way the camera will suddenly take on a character’s POV, bursting into motion with an impressively fluid dexterity. But mostly we end up with eyesores like the impressively ugly extended close-up of Dave’s mouth during a recording or the reeeeeally slooooooow sex scene that moves practically one frame at a time like a slide show.

Considering the sociopolitical context City in Panic is taking the time to explore, its poor construction wouldn’t necessarily be a dealbreaker. Unfortunately, it just seems to be an inept cash-in on a tremendously important social issue. It’s not deeply offensive like it easily could have been, but it’s still a misinformed waste of time. The occasional bursts of creativity (or at least absurdly brave plagiarism) are beaten down by every other element, which work in tandem to make City in Panic a deeply disappointing experience, even if it’s not quite as execrable as some of the worst entries in the genre.

Killer: M [Liz (Lee Ann Nestegard)]
Final Girl: Dave Miller (David Adamson)
Best Kill: A security guard gets stabbed in the dick through a  glory hole.
Sign of the Times: At one point, Dave plays with one of those remote control 80’s robots that I wasn’t certain actually existed.
Scariest Moment: The killer envisions Dave as an AIDS-riddled monstrosity clutching a skeletal baby.
Weirdest Moment: A hamfisted attempt at comic relief sees Dave’s producer write “M” on a piece of paper, but wackily hold it upside-down so it says “W.”
Champion Dialogue: “Haven’t I got enough problems with alimony, the cops, and now you?”
Body Count: 6; not including two victims killed offscreen and mentioned in a news report.

1. Random Guy is stabbed to death.
2. He-Man is stabbed to death.
3. Thomas is stabbed to death upside-down.
4. Security Guard is stabbed to death.
5. Alex Ramsey is stabbed to death offscreen.
6. Liz dies of AIDS.

TL;DR: City in Panic isn't as crude and offensive as the concept promises, but it's also not much of anything.
Rating: 3/10
Word Count: 1095

Census Bloodbath: Intensive Scare Unit

For our podcast episode about this very film, please click here.

Year: 1982

Director: Jean-Claude Lord

Cast: Lee Grant, Michael Ironside, Linda Purl

Run Time: 1 hour 43 minutes

MPAA Rating: R

For all their reputation of politeness, the Canadians really know what they’re doing when it comes to making movies about serial murder. On average, any Canadian slasher flick is miles ahead of its U. S. counterpart. My Bloody Valentine is way more loveable than the thematically similar The Prowler, the States’ Bloody Birthday couldn’t hold a candle to Happy Birthday To Me, Terror Train rattles the fraternity prank revenge flick Hell Night right off its track, and Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II is pretty much the Empire Strikes Back of slasherdom.

Sure, they’ve made their share of duds (I regret renting a tux for Prom Night and Humongous has miniscule worth), but in general the country knows what’s up when it comes to sticking sharp objects in people. Which is how we come to Visiting Hours, a 1982 hospital slasher that came late in the game but still lacerates the competition. Halloween II might be the medical horror people put on a pedestal form that era, but Visiting Hours is a filthy, gorgeous thoughtful treat.

As if we needed any more reasons to be scared of hospitals. Did you know they keep sick people there?

In Visiting Hours, outspoken TV anchorwoman Deborah Balin (Lee Grant) espouses nonviolent philosophies and vows to defend a woman who is being tried for shooting her husband after he beat her. Unfortunately this sets off misogynist serial killer Colt Hawker (Michael Ironside of – drumroll – Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II), a daddy’s boy whose mother severely burned his father after he hit her. After Colt attacks Deborah in her home, she is sent to County General Hospital to recuperate.

As she heals with the help of devoted/elfin and gorgeous nurse Sheila (Linda Purl) and her doting producer/boyfriend Gary Baylor (William Shatner of William Shatner), Colt stalks her over the course of Labour Day weekend. It’s a holiday, he can afford to take his time with it. Killers need to relax, too. In his deadly pursuit, he murders anystaff or patients who get in his way.

This is not, shall we say, a trivial pursuit.

The really exciting thing about Visiting Hours is that – uniquely in the slasher genre – it doesn’t just depict violence against women, it’s about violence against women. At every level, in nearly every scene, Visiting Hours engages with the real problems that manifest both in society and the media. Of course this means that the film isn’t free from the unpleasantness of those very same films, occasionally dipping into the post-grindhouse unpleasantness akin to Don’t Answer the Phone or Eyes of a Stranger.

But despite its scuzziness (most prevalent in a pretty arbitrary sequence I dubbed the Rape Interlude), Visiting Hours never asks you to enjoy the violence you’re watching. That’s a very important distinction, and its unrelenting focus brings it to a level that very few slashers even dream of reaching: it’s actually scary. From the opening attack on, Visiting Hours toys with your nerves, constructing tension sequences with all the right ingredients: well rounded, sympathetic characters, unpredictable outcomes, and multiple threads coming together for a big reveal.

The whole thing culminates in a Final Girl sequence so drawn-out and harrowing that she can hardly even scream by the end. Deborah is vulnerable, resourceful, indomitable, and very worthy of being at the center of the most meaningful character arc of early 80’s slasherdom. [SPOILERS This nonviolent woman is relentlessly pursued by Colt – an emissary of the rampant cult (geddit?) of misogyny. He so doggedly attacks her that she is eventually driven to thwart he ironclad morals and end her suffering with a violent act: gutting Colt like a fish. She is a pacifist driven to violence by a patriarchal society that devalues women and only creates more evil in the world.] It might not be perfectly expressed, but damn if it isn’t one of the most engaging slasher storylines I’ve seen in months.

And that’s saying something. Pray for me.

Happily, much of the grittiness of Colt Hawker is scrubbed away by either circumstances (the girl he brings home to torment later plays a key role in his downfall) or a hearty inoculation of camp. Because you can’t have existed in 1982 without being inherently embarrassing, there’s plenty of silly moments to cheer you up. A big source of amusement is the fact that Colt Hawker changes costumes more often than a Lady Gaga concert, including a bizarre tribal getup complete with clip-on piercings. He actually stops to change in the middle of a chase sequence! My current working theory is that Visiting Hours is an aborted prequel to the Dana Carvey classic, Master of Disguise.

Another plot point that will have you and your friends debating for hours is Sheila’s “babysitter.” She’s always around, has no qualms about using the shower or the bed, and drapes herself lovingly over the duvet wrapped only in a towel. They’re about as explicit as a lesbian couple could get back in the day, while remaining maddeningly determined to act like there’s nothing unusual going on beyond being the hired help.

Although my dream job does involve nobody giving a damn what I wear, so maybe she just hooked it up.

As if that weren’t enough, the movie is just plain good. I know I’m a sucker for a bold color scheme, but the hospital exterior and many key scenes are lit with a chilling blue that creates a dark fairy tale atmosphere that’s hard to shake off. The cinematography is as classically skillful as Canadians could get, and they’re even on the ball enough to sneak in a little symbolism hither and thither.

So there you have it. Visiting Hours is a fun, well constructed, frightening, smart, satisfying slasher flick. The fact that I could write for this long without even bringing up William Shatner speaks to how arresting it is. I do wish that some of Colt’s scenes were a little less… rapey, but they’re tolerably managed and play a huge part in the thesis of the film. Oh, Canada. What would I do without you?

Killer: Colt Hawker (Michael Ironside)

Final Girl: Deborah Balin (Lee Grant)

Best Kill: An elderly patient has her air tube cut and Colt takes her picture as she asphyxiates.

Sign of the Times: Lisa wears a leather jacket over a hot pink outfit with diagonal stripes and she isn’t arrested.

Scariest Moment: Sheila gets a call revealing that the killer is at home with her daughter.

Weirdest Moment: Colt squeezes a stress ball as he murders people.

Champion Dialogue: “You’ve got a lot of friends. Or else you know a lot of florists.”

Body Count: 7

1. Francine is killed offscreen.
2. Mrs. Corrigan has her air tube cut.
3. Connie is stabbed in the gut.
4. Vinnie is stabbed in the chest.
5. Cop #1 is thrown through a window.
6. Cop #2 has his jaw broken.
7. [Colt is gutted.]

TL;DR: Visiting Hours is a grimy but intelligent slasher that engages very well with the violence against women inherent to the genre.

Rating: 9/10

Word Count: 1210