Sadistic torture murders are plaguing the street walkers of LA. After three or four on-screen victims, the cops are ready to go undercover. Perhaps not so coincidentally, a smarmy duo of "documentarians" making a film about prostitution are racking up an impressive body count of their own.
More often lately I've been finding myself sitting down with these SOV detective thrillers. On a technical level, they've all been better than 555, which is the title my brain automatically associates with…
I have on my phone a list of things I'm expecting in the mail. One item that has been on it for months is an unnamed Indiegogo perk simply noted as being due in December. I looked at this list just this morning and again tried to think of what it could be (I can sometimes be an impulsive crowdfunder). And, whaddya know, Cheerleader Sleepover Slaughter gets delivered to me TODAY. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, I guess!
"Oh…
Carolyn Brandt worship. Artful wide shots of temperamental desert rats. Family fun at the rodeo. A spectre that haunts a dilapidated shanty on a barren ranch, sword in hand.
Blood Shack feels like a very personal film. Ray Dennis Steckler photographs his ex-wife playing herself amidst a lifeless, dusty landscape in a way that is both admiring and wistful. The walls of the house are covered in posters of the pair's older movies like The Thrill Killers and Incredibly Strange…
