By DR. BENNY GRAVES
Starring Bill Hinzman, John Mowod, Leslie Ann Wick and Kevin Kindlin
Written, directed and produced by Bill Hinzman
Released on Blu-ray by Vinegar Syndrome
A woman rushes away from the crumbled body of her unconscious brother. Pursuing her is a ghoul, his face a rictus of equal parts vitriol and agony. As she seeks shelter in her car, the undead creature raises a jagged rock and smashes it against the driver side window, unrelenting in his pursuit of sustenance: human flesh. The first (now universally accepted) take on the zombie we see in George Romero’s legendary Night of The Living Dead was played by Bill Hinzman. After this role, Hinzman pursued both acting and directing. Did he have the filmmaking prowess of Romero? Short answer: No. (Long answer: Noooooooo.) However, what he did have was an eye for campy horror and exploitation that makes for Analog Abattoir gold.
Now, FLESHEATER (and its alternate titles, which include Revenge of The Living Zombies and Zombie Nosh) is firmly in the category of films I have previously referred to as “movie within a movie.” To summarize my explanation: These are movies that characters in a horror movie would watch. (See my previous reviews on Demon Wind and Fiend.) I’ll also accept that these are the type of movies you’d see a trailer for on the TV watched by cackling delinquents Beavis and Butt-Head. In what is a totally shocking turn of events … I love FLESHEATER.
The movie begins with an animated intro title (sorely missing in modern cinema) before cutting to a gaggle of youths (re: twenty-year-olds) who have arrived near old man Spence’s farm for a Halloween overnight of camping and Pennsylvanian luxury (aka drinking cheap beer and groping). Simultaneously, a nearby farmer is attempting to pull out a tree trunk, but in the process unveils a stone seal marked with a pentagram. Using his critical thinking skills, he removes the seal only to reveal an even more explicit verbal warning on a wax seal which is attached to a chained coffin. Not finished with his display of intelligence, the farmer opens the coffin, unleashing the titular flesheater (Hinzman in what looks to be his exact Night costume, chewing scenery and latex with equal amount of fervor). What follows is a bloodbath as Hinzman and his undead horde unleash hell upon the peaceful community of Beaver County (c’mon Bill!), feasting on everyone from campers to costumed partygoers. (A black out drunk Dracula telling a surviving couple that they look like shit never fails to crack me up.)
In 1986, Hinzman directed The Majorettes, which was based off a book by fellow Night of The Living Dead alum John Russo. That movie starts off as a conventional slasher whodunit before taking a bonkers third act turn into exploitation/revenge territory. While FLESHEATER does not do much in the way of genre-bending, it does continue Hinzman’s patented method of charming low-budget regional filmmaking while upping the camp factor. Since this is a zombie flick, we get all sorts of inventive gore, including hatchet-shattered skulls, torn out hearts, disembowelment and the requisite quota of headshots. None are spared and the ghouls have no problem chowing down on children despite this being a common horror movie taboo. Without going into too much detail (you pervs!), the movie isn’t light on the sleaze quotient either, and Joe Bob Briggs would agree that the three Bs are well represented. Does this movie have the anti-consumerism message of Dawn of The Dead or the horrific undercurrent of societal dissolution seen in Day of The Dead? Of course not! There is, however, an attempt to replicate the bleak ending of Night (among other scenes of Romero gravitas) with a community theater level of execution that will have you cackling into your popcorn.
Credit must be given as the movie takes full advantage of its setting on Halloween night. There’s plenty of costumed revelers, old school decorations and shots of the rural countryside where you can practically smell the woodsmoke and feel the crisp breeze. I had been on a long hunt for a copy of the Revenge of The Living Zombies VHS release from Magnum Video before finding one in, of all places, a Pittsburgh record store. Those of you with a less crippling addiction to dead media can snag the Blu-ray with a beautiful transfer courtesy of Vinegar Syndrome. This movie has become a part of my cinematic comfort food collection, and I’m convinced you’ll join me … just let me get a little bite first.
Death to false horror,
Dr. Benny Graves
