Despite titillating descriptions of flesh and fear, bodies and blood, almost all four of these films barely brought me to the edge, and often left me shooting blanks. So which one finally provided the release I needed? You’ll just have to reach the climax to find out.
WRATH OF THE CROWS (2013)
Aside from the fact that I have no idea what is going on in this movie, Wrath of The Crows is stunning to watch for various reasons.
The great cast is loaded with horror veterans, including horror hunks Michael Segal and Domiziano Arcengali. Scream queens Debbie Rochon and Tiffany Shepis are absolutely at the top of their game, giving fantastic performances. The film looks visually stunning. There are nonstop disturbing scenes, gore, and sexual situations.
I just—couldn’t follow it. Various people are caged in a dungeon, essentially on “trial” and being judged for horrific things they did, which we see in flashbacks. They are watched over by Nazi-like guards. A feral man in a straitjacket and chains is occasionally let loose to attack. And Tiffany Shepis plays a sort of supernatural leather sex goddess, taunting all the sinners in their personal purgatories.
There’s witchery, sexual seduction, murder, and a plot that is all over the place and weighed down by chronic scene jumping. I eventually gave up trying to think and just chose to enjoy the scenery.
GARDEN OF HEDON (2011)
A detective wakes up next to a dead body in a house of debauchery where anything goes, nobody can get out, and people are being killed off…in a film titled Garden of HEDON. Sounds awesome, right?
Sadly, the most sex you’ll find here is fully clothed light spanking, a gimp mask, and a pair of titties near a stripper pole. And despite a heinously good opening scene of a masked killer squishing a head with his foot, the actual on screen kills are few and far between.
The golden opportunity of this plot is thrown away for a plodding, 2-hour detective profiling film. As the death toll rises, the detective spends the whole time investigating rooms and talking to eccentric characters. Not even the fetishistic issues of each character are exploited enough.
While the towering creep in the mask stomps around with booming footsteps to great floor-shaking effect, his ominous presence isn’t exploited until about the last 30 minutes of the film, when the movie temporarily turns into a fun slasher before switching to monotonous exposition about who is behind the insanity and why.
SECRETS OF A PSYCHOPATH (2015)
Bert I. Gordon, who brought us decades of creature features like The Cyclops and Food of the Gods beginning way back in the 1950s, disappeared from the horror scene for just as many decades. Now, he returns with a film that essentially pays homage to Psycho…and Psycho II…and Psycho III, etc.
A young, hot dude with a sexual dysfunction lives in a creepy old house with his sister, played by MTV darling Kari Wuhrer, who has built up a well-deserved horror resume over the years. Hoping to get it up some day, the brother meets women online, lures them to his house, and then kills them when they don’t arouse him.
Kari tries to help him with his problem, mostly by offering to fuck him herself. That’s what he gets for walking around all sweaty and wearing a tank top in front of his sister.
The relationship between the siblings is nicely warped, and the pacing is pretty good even if the kills are expected and offer no surprises, but the mystery of the brother’s sexual problems just isn’t shocking enough to be compelling to an audience in the 21st century.
In a surprise twist, the “final girl” is painted as a slut, making it kind of bizarre that her fiancé is so desperate to find her, but I do like the old school ending, when the unimpressive (and kind of silly) truth of the siblings’ backstory is revealed in a creepy attic.
Secrets of a Psychopath is definitely a well-done throwback to 1980s films about twisted families and sexually repressed killers (aka: outdated plot), with several fun clichés firmly in place. The biggest disappointment for me is that it lacks thrills and chills because the killers are the protagonists, giving us no opportunity to connect with the victims or fear for their lives.
BUNNY THE KILLER THING (2015)
After the blue balls the last three films left me with, I was all horny for an absurd exploitation flick to give my horror viewing a kick in the ass. Bunny the Killer Thing went one further, sinking ankle deep into my corn hole.
Bunny the Killer Thing wants pussy. Bunny the Killer Thing wants fresh pussy. Bunny the Killer Thing can’t tell the difference between pussy and penis, so no private parts are safe. He’s literally Bunny the bi-Killer thing. Furry horror fans rejoice. Bunny the Killer Thing is your new hero.
The film begins perfectly—gore and a practically naked guy. A couple arrives at a cabin in the woods. The woman meets a mind-blowing end. The man is stripped to his undies, tied up, injected by men in masks, and becomes…Bunny the Killer Thing!
Then we meet our group of friends heading to…a cabin in the woods! Yippee! There’s a horny masturbating teen, a racist asshole, a predatory lesbian rapist, a gay romance brewing, boobs, dicks galore, genital munching, and Bunny the Killer Thing, wielding and whipping around his huge cock while growling “Fresh pussy!”
The perversion is disgustingly perfect exploitation comic lunacy. The penis POV rules.
And the climactic reveal of why Bunny the Killer Thing even exists is a major money shot that made my inflation rise.
