Get To The Chooper!!!!

  By I. Alexander Nash

   Short review this week for an even shorter movie.  I've put up with a lot of shit in my life from a lot of different people, with Ray Dennis Steckler being one of them.  Man I'll swallow some of the bitterest medicine in the world, if you just sprinkle enough gorillas and Rat Pfink's on top of it.  Hell, I'll even sit through Arch Hall J.R. 's McDonald's burger wrapper greasy face if there's 3 minutes of great ice skating in it.  The one thing I will not tolerate from Mr. Steckler is a sneaker wearing, hoodie sporting and knife welding psychopath that is NOT Cash Flagg!  This guy wishes he had the amazing presence that was Cash Flagg.

The Man, the myth, the Legend Mr. Cash Flagg

   Blood Shack was a movie made by Steckler under one of his better pseudonyms Wolfgang Schmidt.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but that sounds kinda like a Jewish werewolf movie, and that my friend sounds badass.  I mean think of a Nazi killing, Talmud saying, angry Jewish werewolf movie.  Bruno Mattei would jump all over that shit...wait, he's dead.  Well I guess Uwe Boll will have to do that one too.  I'm pretty sure he's raided the Filmirage script vaults at some point.  By every indication of the posters and artwork I've seen from this film we are in for a zombie faced machete maniac...or maybe just a really big Cash Flagg fan.

Choose your misery.  I added all of these so you know what to avoid

   The film, and I use that term loosely, is about an old Indian legend of The Chooper. Hhhmm.  The Chooper?  Not really sounding very scary.  And for that matter what the fuck is a Chooper?  Now, this being a horror film I'm ready, willing and prepared to watch a Chopper or maybe even a Chipper (as long as it's not a Woodchipper Massacre mmmeeehh) but not particularly a Chooper.  Sounds like a long lost and probably incredibly racist, Disney cartoon.  The, ahem, Chopper haunts a run down "house" in the middle of no where.  The only thing that appears to be in this town are three houses, a drunk fucker who warns you about the Chooper, two kids, and one big fat llloooonnnngggg rodeo.

White knuckle action from Blood Shack.

    In the beginning we have a random girl getting dropped off at the house on what I believe to be a dare.  She isn't scared of The Chooper; who would be as he appears to be your local emo kid with a "fanasty weapon" fetish.  She, of course, is warned of Dick Clark's Choopers and Practical Jokes by a guy who apparently doesn't own a shirt nor any self respect.  She spends the night in the house, choosing to disrobe to her underwear first.  Last thing I would ever wanna do in such a sandy environment.  She sleeps, only to be awakened by...Da!  Da!  Don! The Chooper.  I don't know why an Indian spirit would dress like the lead singer of...I don't know...Good Charolette (?) is beyond anyone with half a brain.  The Chuck Taylors tend to give away the fact that he might not be a Native American spirit as they were all, of course, Nike men.  She's stabbed to death with a sword pulled off my kid brother's wall to no real fan fare.  Although Shirtless Bill is all to happy to rob the dead body.  Riveting.

Oh no!  It's Cash Fla...I mean The Chooper!

   The movie then begins to limp into it's opening as Steckler's wife has inherited the ranch in which the title Blood Shack sits.  She is told the story of The Harry Chooper by Matthew McConaughey in Magic Mike.  She understands, which she indicates by nodding her only known acting skill.  Twenty minutes into this thing we start Blade Runner type narration by Steckler's wife.  She meanders dialog, almost as if she's an Alzheimer's patient, and plays with the apparently parentless children that hang out on this ranch.  There is much talk of the rodeo and all it's glory.  Shit fit, do they talk and go to this rodeo a lot.  Primarily to add production value as well as running time as the 70 minute directors cut contains even more of this trash.  Wanna see little Timmy Mason rope and tie a calf?  Whoa daddy do I have a movie for you.

Alright.  Alright. Alright.  I get older, they stay the same age.

   When this thing finally attempts to have some sort of action, we also get final credits.  She's eventually stalked and attempted slain by The Slap Chooper, only to have the shirtless reject of the cast of 2000 Maniacs intervene while having his Pancreas sliming out.  How is the The Chooper finally stopped you ask?  I know your reading this and can't ask, but damn it, if you were here you would ask.  My hands, the duct tape, and this kitchen knife will make sure of that shit.  A shovel!  The only slasher film in history where the main nemesis is easily dispatched with a quick blow to back of the head with said shovel.  Wholly bananas it wasn't The Chooper at all!  It was...some guy who showed up earlier in the film.  I can't even really remember who he was.  God damn Steckler apparently used to write for Scooby Doo at some point as the dude just wanted to get the ranch from the chick.  Brilliant.

It was Old Man Walter the owner of the abandoned amusement park this whole time!

    Oh Steckler.  We've been through so much over the years and you decide to ultimately drag me through this mess of shit and rodeo footage.  That's most of the movie.  What I've detailed here is ALL the story and action.  That's all of it baby.  It doesn't go anywhere but there...there and the rodeo.  I will watch some corny fucking shit.  I'll sit through the stock footage in Hell of the Living Dead.  Man, some of that shit is even humorous.  But this..this fucking atrocity of A Day at the Rodeo will not pass as entertainment.  Christ this was even the short version.  I can't imagine watching the directors cut.  What kind of masochist do you have to be to watch 70 minutes of this shit.  The only way I could ever find this movie tolerable is with the optional Joe Bob Briggs commentary.  Oh Joe Bob take me away.  Fuck I'd buy Joe Bob themed bubble bath.  Smellin' of Exploitation.

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And of course if you're a dumb asshole like me.  the link to the entire movie:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJPoSU9EFqk&wide=1

Marble Madness the movie!!!

by I. Alexander Nash

 
  In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.  At some point after that is when he created Nightmare Weekend....fuck that bitch, truthfully, fuck that dude.  Released by the crew at Troma (released by Troma, not made by Troma) this 1986 horror(?) film may be the cinema equivalent of herpes simplex 2.  It's not so much because it's a "bad" movie as much as it is as absolutely senseless as the Marlon Waynes movie of the same name.  Yeah I might actually eat razor blades later for referencing Senseless.  Or I might just let the inevitable happen and let David Spade rape me to death.  Either one.  I know this one has made it on many "worst of lists," but fuck, it honestly needs to be burned to a shade darker than Ryan Dunn's lifeless corpse.  I might even be missing vital information about this movie such as running out of money, change of directors or even utter incompetence; but none of that means a good God damn when none of the final footage could work in any situation or film.  Well, maybe it could work if it was only used to torture Alex Delarge.  A bit about the flickering stupidity that is Nightmare Weekend.

British VHS Cover

                                                                   
  Oh shit, is that a fucking hand puppet?  First thing off eh?  You're going to start your movie with a hand puppet using a computer to kill two biker youths?  Not advised.  I can tell there was no Kissenger available for this film.  It's going to be a rough ride.  Rougher than the ride Ryan Dunn made...ok, put out the torches.  I get the hint.  Now someone give me a fire extinguisher for my scrotum.  You know who else could have used a fire extinguisher one night?  Ok, shutting up now.  The movie begins disorienting and never rescues itself from there on in.  Apprently there is a mustachioed scientist who lives in a badass mansion with his super computer named Apache.  He has an evil assistant (no shit, she looks like Martin Kove in a wig) who has invited a bunch of sorority sluts to his house to test his new computer program.

Cobra Kai!!!

                                                                        
  Why he lets these college broads into his house is beyond me.  Plus, his daughter, who is of the same age but not freinds with the other girls(?), comes to visit and talk to her friend George.  Yes George is the god damn hand puppet.  No mention why George can move or talk on his own, but he sure has some great tech support skills as he can operate the house computer system.  Her and George like to play Pole Position sometimes, which also controls surrounding vehicles.  Yeah, I know your lost at this point but I am too.  Just pretend you've snorted a whole ton of Molly and let it wash over you like an episode of Joanie Loves Chachi.

Hey! He's gotta hand under there!  It's a hoax!

                                 
   The computer wiz has created a program that can turn watches into pinballs that blow loads in your mouth and do all sorts of that mind control business we've read about in Tea Party literature; the vomiting, the need to kill, and the need for health insurance plus liveable wage.  The only true use for this technology is apparently turning dog food into Bohdai from Solarbabies and rendering Cujo into Benji.  The cast of Slumber Party Massacre gets picked up in the house limo only to be detoured at the only functioning business in town, a bar that serves beer and soda.  Robert Burke bangs...wait Robert fucking Burke!?!  Well that's a new low in a career.  I think I would have preferred to make my movie debut in porn than this trite shit.  After entering the bar and meeting four dudes decked out in white like Boyz 2 Men, The Dust Devil bangs some random bar slut on top of a pinball machine to show his anger.  What exactly is the movies obsession with pinballs?  Was the director's mother Jodi Foster in The Accused? 

I thought your ninjas took care of Robocop?

                                    
  The girls hook up with the Moody Blues and invite them to go to the mansion with them for the sheer purpose of sex.  Man do I miss the 80's.  People where willing to share all sorts of diseases with you.  You could also easily pick up the female cast of Just One of the Guys with the simple addition of a Hardrock Zombies edition Jesse white one piece pant suit.  Diamond Dave Lee Roth would be very proud.  After a flat tire excuse fuck scene, all interested parties make it to the house, and so the real fun begins.  Ok, that was one big lie, which I do a lot.  It makes me feel like a big man, or movie producer.  There's nothing fun about this movie.  Nothing cute or interesting.  It's about as cute as the Circle of Shit from Salo.  Christ even the hand puppet seems more appealing at this point.  Certainly a lot more animated than any of the rest of the cast.  The movie gets more and more muddled as it progresses.  The dad from Pet Sematary shows up (decked out all in white too might I add) to give the daughter in the story something to do.  Sure, he's on a quest to find out what happened to his dead biker brother, but mainly just so the daughter has a subplot to follow as the teens in peril motif seems to not be working.  People meander through this story going back an forth to BAR over and over again.  Rejected cast members from The Prowler dance and romance these ladies through a full 40 minutes of screen time.  It almost seems like a tv ad for 50 Great Romance Tunes for only $9.99...with Barry Manalow singing Mandy.

Featuring Christopher Cross-Arthur's Theme (The Best That You Can Do)

   Bored?  God I hope so.  I'm bored with writing this dreck.  The movie is only interested in dudes trying (And I do mean trying as it takes them a god damn hour to get anywhere) to get laid and George the puppet doing his best "Danger Will Robinson" voice.  This whole plot of an under cutting assistant trying to sell Magnum P.I.s computer program simply isn't working nor does it ever pay off.  They tend to meander all over the place never allowing the audience to really get a grip on anything.  All men in this thing are only interested in sex.  Whether that character is merely trying to bang or is a rapist is up to wardrobe.  Pretty much all the women are only interested in teasing men or being complete slam hounds.  The only woman not interested in getting all holes filled, is the evil assistant....no wait I remember, she tried to bang the dad.  The flaccid (much like Louis Creed here's acting) relationship plot of the daughter and biker in white is not enough to support a film.  Shit, they don't even have any chemistry.  The whole thing goes Chernobyl in the last 20 minutes with the explosion of Officer Murphy's face, the inclusion of melting mutant make-ups, some brief stalk and slash action and the only screen death due to panty sniffing in the history of film.

Sloth Love Chunk!

  This whole thing is a fucking disaster.  Worse than that it's boring as...well...every Ron Howard movie ever.  They never explain the purpose of any of this nor do they pay off any of the proceeding plot ideas.  It just sits there like a turd in the middle of the table during your first Christmas dinner with your fiancee parents.  It's like Mary in Last House on the Left.  It just lays there and takes it.  In summary I'd like to say that I'm very sorry that Troma studios is falling on hard times with the way the film business is these days, but Mary fuck the maker they almost deserve it for still making this particular film available for viewing at all.  Put me out of my misery.  Give me a pair of your panties, I wanna go kill myself.

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