Herschell Gordon Lewis Month continues with Blood Feast (1963)
Yep, this is it -- the one that kickstarted the gore genre! It's probably best worth remembering merely for its influential status than any actual worth as a film. 'Cause honestly, it's pretty putrid. It's got no production values and a horrid script that just barely serves as the framework for some very gruesome goings-on, plus it's also got some of the worst acting in the history of cinema. And it's got a musical score (also the work of HG Lewis -- he's a multitasker!) that is so bizarre and cheesy that it practically becomes another character, and one that's more interesting than anyone in the film too boot. But that's not to say it's not entertaining -- rather, it's all these faults that make it the goofball laugh riot that it so undeniably is. Watching Connie Mason and Thomas Wood act out the "love" plotline in this film (and, at a lean 67 minutes, it's surprising HG found time to sketch a love story) is more or less like watching two cigar-store Indians try to get into each other's wigwams. And they aren't even the worst actors in the film! The only actor really worth paying any attention to is Mal Arnold, who kitsches and twitches up a storm as the insane murderer. His eyebrows alone are worth the price of a rental. The script is filled with howlingly bad lines, made even more glaringly so by the craplicious acting. (Great Moments in Dialogue: "Call the Fremonts, quick... and for Pete's sake, don't let them eat anything!") And the notorious gore effects... oh, Nelly! Most people cite the tongue-rip or the brain-scoop as their favorite, but I have to say this: When Ramses picked up a whip with flails obviously made of cloth and began whipping an unfortunate lass, with the blood just appearing on her back since the "whip" had obviously been soaked in cranberry sauce or something.... folks, it just doesn't get any more inspiring than that. I wish I had the gumption to give this film a minor-recommendation-level grade, seeing as how it entertained the hell out of me, but I just can't force myself to do it. I can come close, though. (But one note of actual praise before I finish -- considering the budget and time constraints as well as the get-the-shot-and-run modus operandi, the film, surprisingly, sports some quite decent direction from Lewis. I consider this doubly surprising, seeing as how he made a total botch of Suburban Roulette.)
Grade: C+
Yep, this is it -- the one that kickstarted the gore genre! It's probably best worth remembering merely for its influential status than any actual worth as a film. 'Cause honestly, it's pretty putrid. It's got no production values and a horrid script that just barely serves as the framework for some very gruesome goings-on, plus it's also got some of the worst acting in the history of cinema. And it's got a musical score (also the work of HG Lewis -- he's a multitasker!) that is so bizarre and cheesy that it practically becomes another character, and one that's more interesting than anyone in the film too boot. But that's not to say it's not entertaining -- rather, it's all these faults that make it the goofball laugh riot that it so undeniably is. Watching Connie Mason and Thomas Wood act out the "love" plotline in this film (and, at a lean 67 minutes, it's surprising HG found time to sketch a love story) is more or less like watching two cigar-store Indians try to get into each other's wigwams. And they aren't even the worst actors in the film! The only actor really worth paying any attention to is Mal Arnold, who kitsches and twitches up a storm as the insane murderer. His eyebrows alone are worth the price of a rental. The script is filled with howlingly bad lines, made even more glaringly so by the craplicious acting. (Great Moments in Dialogue: "Call the Fremonts, quick... and for Pete's sake, don't let them eat anything!") And the notorious gore effects... oh, Nelly! Most people cite the tongue-rip or the brain-scoop as their favorite, but I have to say this: When Ramses picked up a whip with flails obviously made of cloth and began whipping an unfortunate lass, with the blood just appearing on her back since the "whip" had obviously been soaked in cranberry sauce or something.... folks, it just doesn't get any more inspiring than that. I wish I had the gumption to give this film a minor-recommendation-level grade, seeing as how it entertained the hell out of me, but I just can't force myself to do it. I can come close, though. (But one note of actual praise before I finish -- considering the budget and time constraints as well as the get-the-shot-and-run modus operandi, the film, surprisingly, sports some quite decent direction from Lewis. I consider this doubly surprising, seeing as how he made a total botch of Suburban Roulette.)
Grade: C+
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