A review for Lunch Meat is a review for us all. I’m sure my insights here will echo those of everysoul fortunate enough to have ridden the unshakable homegrown fiend of a ride that is Lunch Meat. Watching it seems to synchronize the viewer into some larger, undefined headcheese consciousness. And with a movie named after cold cuts, would you expect anything less than the completely strange?
The movie begins with a false sense of security. Entitled yuppie teens call eachother scab and fungus as they drive towards a cabin they’ll never reach. It all feels familiar. Someone likes someone and that person likes someone else. Someone forgot the lunch meat, and someone forgot the gas, so the jeep gets pushed to the nearest watering hole. The jeep finds a drink and the teens find a bite to eat. It’s evident that those aren’t any ordinary burgers and they grimace and chew. Grimace and chew. Continue reading “Schlock du Jour: Lunch Meat (1987)”→
I am a disappointment. Before you attempt to console me, please, just listen to my story.
I had it all planned out, see? I held my horses for the perfect opportunity. I had waited so long to finally see it, and I knew I needed my best mates Jade, Jeremy, and Tim there to enjoy the experience with me. I also needed drinks of course. You can’t forget the drinks when you’re screening an A+ Schlock bomb that would rewire our synapses after it blew our collective minds. This was going to be a great night. We were going to watch Rollergator. Hell. Yes.
Fast forward 83 minutes to me sitting there, in silence, embarrassed and ashamed as the credits rolled. Because that’s when I realized that I showed the wrong movie. What I meant to watch involved women in skimpy clothing turning into reptiles, and then killing other people to turn them into gay zombies! It had been Repligator I meant to watch! Bret McCormick’s erotic sci-fi romp from the same year. Not whatever the shit this was. I had never even actually heard of Rollergator, it had merely incepted its way into my mind like its name was Berenstein Bears. Press [F] to pay respects.
There has never really been a moment in my life that I didn’t at least live with a cat. When I was born, my parents already had a half-persian named Yo-Yo. I moved in with my cousins and they had Simba and Dinkers. Then there was Sabrina, Koko, Maxx, London, Cosmo, Eevee, Yuna, Bowser, and finally Bowie and Raimi. I think it’s safe to say I like cats. Still with me?
Dog people tend to be more extroverted and have more friends. Cat people are more likely to be introverts. I’m generalizing, and also pulling this 100% out of my ass, but it sounds good! So I’m definitely lacking in the friends department because of my affinity for cats, and not because I invite people over to watch a movie where a man dresses up as a cat, uses a litterbox, and wears a giant, barbed, cat cock dildo while he murders women.
When I was a kid, I had an impressive collection of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures. I would make them perform impossible feats, and they were never truly in danger of the bad guys. They would just punch their stupid faces in after performing some ridiculous quadruple flip pile-driver on Pizzaface or Sergeant Bananas or Rocksteady. What does any of this have to do with Alien Nightmare X?
It’s the year 2025. Comrades Alex and Victor have just returned from the Illuminati’s own planet, planet Silius. Now they are looking a ravaged Earth in the eye-sockets. Not much is left after the alien invasion. They team with a warrior that goes only by “The Possessed,” and fight to survive the attacks of the alien humanoids and spiders.
DISCLAIMER: THIS REVIEW CONTAINS NERDY AND INAPPROPRIATE SHIT.
From director Jim Wynorski, Heather Locklear’s Boobs AKA The Return of Swamp Thing
I saw Avengers: Infinity War against my better judgement. I knew I was done with the modern superhero yarn and I got absolutely nothing out of it. It was big, it was busy, it was SAME-Y. In other words, it was being stuck in traffic on the way to work on Monday morning. The good vs evil dynamic that seems to drive everything isn’t of much interest to me, and when it comes to superhero films, that angle is obviously amplified. For that reason, you won’t find me reviewing superhero films very often…
Enter The Return of Swamp Thing. Based on characters from the DC comic where Swamp Thing is basically Captain Planet without the kids and rings. there are also things like the Rotworld story-line, wherein Swamp Thing—as an avatar of “The Green”, and Animal Man—as an avatar of “The Red”, are tasked by The Parliament of Trees and The Parliament of Limbs, respectively, to team up to defeat Dr. Anton Arcane and “The Rot”. It’s trippy and nightmarish, Lovecraftian even, as it features animals and humans being turned inside out. It is good. Most importantly it feels more like a horror story than a superhero one.
Point being, I view Swamp Thing in a different light, as in my experience he’s portrayed as less of a hero and more of a pile of vegetable matter that just happens to be an elemental entity of balance. That entire point is moot however, since we are talking about Wynorski’s The Return of Swamp Thing.
Hello, all! My name is ReelRat, or just simply “Rat”, and I’m thrilled to be the newest contributor to CINEMASLICE.
I will be your resident schlock and extreme horror expert, and I will provide your eyes with reviews of the sort you have likely never seen before in an all new column entitled “Schlock Du Jour!” I was asked to introduce myself to you all, so I asked myself, “What is the most ‘Rat’ way to do this?” And I came up with a solution…
See, last year I interviewed myself in some sorta self-servicing bullshit, with the hopes that it would fend off a midlife crisis as I turned 30. I figured I’d pry inward to find out if introspection was the best medicine. That interview went unpublished, but I have updated my answers and added a couple new questions so you may best get to know me. I offer that to you now in the hopes that you will accept me.
Rat on Rat:
To begin, let’s start at the end. By that I mean let’s talk about your sign-off. You end each review the same way. “Stay slime, and be rad at all times.” What exactly does that mean?
So, my sign-off is both a motto and an aesthetic. It’s basically like that famous line from Bill & Ted: “Be excellent to each other, and party on dudes!” It’s a beacon of positivity. Stay slime = stay cool. Radness goes beyond coolness in my definition as it encompasses much more, including an emphasis on kindness.
Why do you go by “Rat”
This actually goes back to the last question. Rat is a simplified version of the acronym for “rad at all times”. I’ve adopted that name within many circles as a reminder to be the embodiment of my motto. I want to make an impression, but also spread positivity. In addition, it’s a nice scummy, sleazy name. Across the internet you’ll find things authored by me under the names Rat, Reel Rat, Rat Ross, Elliot Ross, Elliot Ian Ross, and even Elliot “Reel Rat” Ross. I’ve been thinking of dropping the whole “Rat” moniker, but I don’t know yet.
Aww, but I like it! Your weekly column for The Basement on a Hill is “Schlock & Gore”, which you’ve been writing now for over 40 weeks. Could you tell us a bit about that?
45 weeks, actually! Schlock & Gore is my baby. When I was asked to write for The Basement, my mind immediately went to a review column. But with all of the review columns out there, why would anyone give one, let alone two shits about mine? The wheels spun a hair longer and I decided that I would lean hard into my niche specialty of weird, obscure, low-budget, and extreme films. I am thrilled to now be writing for CINEMASLICE as well. My column here will be called Schlock Du Jour!