Feature 85 – Mother, May I Sleep with Danger? (2016)

or “Would You Offer Your Throat to the Vampire with the Camera?”

Featuring: Leila “The Long Home” George , Emily “Adventures In the Sin Bin” Meade , Tori “Cthulhu” Spelling

Director: Melanie “Actors Anonymous” Aitkenhead

Writers: Amber Coney & James “Bukowski” Franco

Origin: USA

In-Name-Only Remake of: Mother, May I Sleep with Danger? (1996)


“Well, she’s bad news Miss Lewisohn. Part of a bad crowd.”

Labor Day. Most people think Union bosses and picnics, but as an everyday appreciator of those baring a sexy pair of XX chromosomes, I think of screaming parasites being torn into the blood soaked agony of existence through unwilling vaginal portals. Instead of making this about the bite-sized monstrosities, I prefer to put the spotlight on the iron ladies who bear said abominations and made all of us possible. Yes, even you test tuber viewers, because you can’t grow a human horror from microscopic tadpoles alone…yet. Anyway, as such, I present to all you of-the-ovarian-sort a trio of flicks for ladies, by ladies (mostly), featuring ladies (FLBLFL). “Ladies Night!”, enrage! Errrr, engage!

Let me start with an apology, kids. I know many of you would probably prefer that the “Franco” in today’s credits was referring to Italian sleeze legend Jess Franco, but no such luck. I may have something from the deceased trash maestro a little further down the pipe (provided I get the gusto to snake the drain that is my motivation), but today you’ll have to settle for James instead. However, if you’re an enthusiast, don’t get too excited. And if you’re a detractor, don’t feel down. The screenplay’s only half his, as you can see by the credits he’s not the director (his character even has a line where he literally says “I did not direct that!”) and his on-screen role might as well come with one of those “for novelty purposes only” disclaimers they stamp on penis pump packaging.

Oh yeah, like you’ve never injured your dick and/or your partner’s dick with a prick thickener before. How’s the weather way up there on your golden pedestal, you high-horsing mothertrucker? That’s what I thought.

On the topic of today’s movie, did you know it’s been 20 years since the original Mother, May I Sleep with Danger? premiered? Neither did. Because I never watched it. Because I don’t tend to watch Lifetime. Being “Television for Women”, I’m not even entirely sure it’s legal for me to post this review! Not that I’m a stickler for following the law, but when you’re covered in jet black fur like I am, you don’t really want to tempt any antsy-pants patrol officers into using yours truly for target practice…

Edgy, socially relevant humor!

You know who did see the original Lifetime Original? My Evil Dead Bride! I’m now turning over the steering wheel to EDB, so She can share Her thoughts:

Ahh, Lifetime movies: an incredible exercise in estrogen drenched dramatics and progesterone chugging shenanigans. Scared yet? You should be. Ladies are frightening, especially when they’re busting cheating husbands and bravely trying to find love again while raising kids with no heads. Okay, the missing head part wasn’t real. That’d be hype as fuck if it was real though, right?

Anyway, Lifetime is “Television For Women”, in that it’s ludicrously written and hilariously overacted treacle often “based on true events” (yet somehow not as entertaining as “Law and Order”) involving Ovarians. In every genre of film, there are certain works that can be considered cornerstones. Lifetime dreck is no different. The first Mother, May I Sleep With Danger? is certainly part of Lifetime’s bedrock, along with A Woman Scorned: The Betty Broderick Story and Her Final Fury: Betty Broderick, The Last Chapter (Seriously, watch the Betty Broderick movies, they’re incredible). It’s the typical “previously good teen rebels against overly involved parent and loves bad boy who is way worse for her than she realizes until it’s almost too late” affair, perfectly un-acted by Tori Spelling and Ivan Sergei (both of whom reappear in the remake for funsies for people like me who’ve spent too much time watching utter garbage like this). The writing is atrocious, yet oddly gratifying. Truly a hallmark in mammarian moviemaking if I’ve ever seen one, right along with that terrifying movie where John Stamos makes out with his dad at the end. That’s a real thing, by the way.

Lifetime isn’t for the faint of heart or those of weak constitution. Kinda like Tori Spelling’s “acting” and unsettling amount of facial fillers she’s rocking these days. (Seriously Tori, you’re starting to look like Robert Z’Dar: face like a catcher’s mitt. Quit while you’re only yards behind.) Lifetime movies are basically exploitation movies for suburban moms who drink box wine and proudly sport that baffling Kate Gosselin hairdo, sans over the top gore and gratuitous nudity. If this sounds appealing to you, question your life choices. I’ve done the introspective work, and am left with a calm that can only be achieved by allowing “Mother, May I Sleep With Danger?” to silence my constantly chattering mind with its myriad mysteries and deep existential inquiries. Perhaps this movie is actually a life altering koan delivered via poor 1990s television filmmaking, meant to teach me something I can simultaneously know and be ignorant of at the same time…

Hahaha. Nah. It’s just dumb pablum meant to pacify bored people like me with no taste. Enjoy it for what it is and isn’t. Don’t think too hard, cause that’ll give you little wrinkles on your forehead. Vaya con Dio Brando, fuckers. >:D

See why I’m frequently bugging her to start up her own movie blog? If you agree, let us know! She has to bow to peer pressure eventually!

And now, Mother, May I Sleep with Danger?

Honey, maybe you should get to know Danger first, before jumping into bed with them. Perhaps by introducing yourself with a firm but genial handshake!

I considered going with a Carlos Danger or “Is Danger his first name or his middle name?” joke there, but I stand by my decision.

Leah Lewisohn (Leila George) is just your typical West Coast college girl. She lives at home with her “why does she wear high heels in the house?” mom (Tori Spelling), she speaks with a soft-yet-grating Valley Girl accent, she awkwardly pretends not to notice that her friend Bob (Nick Eversman) would like nothing more than to suffocate himself with her crunchy underpants, she’s pushing gender boundaries by being the first female lead in her drama class’s rendition of Macbeth (as directed by James Franco’s character), and her new significant other is hiding from her the potential relationship shattering knowledge that they’re a vampire. Oh, and said sucker-of-the-sanguine is a lesbian goth “photographer” named Pearl (Emily Meade), which probably won’t sit well with Mrs. Lewisohn’s conservative Christian outlook.

As if the teenage nosferatu thing wasn’t bad enough, Pearl’s being pressured to bring Leah into the pink & black mafia (the Hart Foundation?) by her fellow monsters. “Monsters” in that they’re also vampires, not college students who think overexposing photographs makes them artists. Calling photography students “monsters” would be giving them more credibility than most deserve, and if their parents never encouraged them while growing up, why should the rest of us? I don’t want a brood of my own. If I wanted a bunch of responsibilities, I’d learn Hebrew and animate some golems. At least they don’t leave DNA evidence at crime scenes…

And that’s pretty much it! In my usual effort to avoid the stink of mold by not spoiling the bread, I won’t elaborate on this grown up After School Special anymore beyond that. To be fair, though, there’s really not a LOT to the plot of MMISwD?, as it’s a very straight forward, simple little horror movie. First time feature maker Melanie Aitkenhead directs the whole affair with a ’90s teen horror flair and moderately intense girl-on-girl makeout montages. Clearly our lady was very much a fan of The Craft (which also came out in 1996, coincidentally enough). Retro. Or, if you’re me, it’s nostalgic of my better experiences in high school: masturbating to Fairuza Balk. Speaking of the ’90s, former smasher of pumpkins and perfecter of circles James Iha’s industrial-goth score suits the movie and sets the tone well for Young Adult soap opera horror. It can get repetitive now and then, but for a Lifetime Original it’s solid, more so given that Smashing Pumpkins are to my ears as Slim Whitman is to Martians’ whatever it is they perceive auditory stimulation with.

And yes, that last line’s analogy counts as SAT tutoring, so don’t forget to pick up your bill at the exit. You don’t want us to have to bring it to your house. Trust me.

Being a bloodsucker pic, the gore in Mother (♫ “tell your children not to hold my hand”♫) is kept mostly to bloody mouths (with oddly clean teeth…), with the most intense wetness kept to the Macbeth play in an oddly meta “story-within-a-story fake violence” angle that I can’t really put any clearer. Sometimes I don’t word good. Now, without any serious gripes beyond some not great acting (and a non-PC concern about Tori Spelling looking like a melted mess of Barbie plastic), what’s my dominant issue with the movie? Sometimes, it doesn’t give its audience enough credit.

Leah’s scholastic screen time outside of the Drama Department is spent in a class that explores the parallels between traditional horror stories and the historically phobic persecution of LGBTQ folk. This, of course, is the theme of this remake/revision/reimagining/rebranding/reskinning, likely in an effort to both let said LGBTQ know they’re not alone, and also get the ignorant of we heteros to empathize with people who have been unfairly demonized for centuries. Pardon me if this is projecting, but it gets too heavy handed (going so far as to juxtapose the professor’s words directly over a scene of the vamp squad on the hunt) in its efforts to make sure the message permeates even the densest of numbskulls. Meanwhile, to those with more open minds, it can come off as condescending. Not due to the message, but how many times we’re told that what’s happening to Leah (IN a horror movie, no less) has already been covered a thousand times before in books and poetry.

You could look at this bludgeoning of subtlety as a negation of any need for the movie to exist in the first place since it’s just the same old story. Or, you could look at it as a statement that the need for such stories sadly still exists today and will continue to until the dickards of the world get over whatever personal problem it is that causes them to try and ruin other peoples’ lives. Hint: it’s usually because they hate their own lives, but are too fucking lazy or helpless to fix it, so they just redirect their angry frustration into aggressive outward displays of hatred and attempted domination. You know, typical grade school bully shit, because some cunt waffles never evolve past a 6th grade level.

Given that you’re probably here because you want to know my opinion (secondary to the dick and fart jokes, of course) , let’s discuss where I stand in regards to MMISwD?‘s message – being neither LGBTQ person nor a homophobe, it doesn’t speak to me. Nor am I saying it should. Much like my feelings on The Babadook, the message is clear to me and doesn’t need to be repeated ad nauseum, rubbed all over my brain like a young intern’s balls across a Republican senator’s face. As a Lifetime Original, the presumed target audience for this flick is middle-aged women (and any channel surfers whose attention can be easily grabbed by TV-14 approved barely legal lesbos dry humping), so if any such ladies out there have seen this and would like to give their opinion, please reach out and touch-a touch-a touch-a me as I’d like to hear your thoughts on whether the script’s hand holding really is overly aggressive, or if I’m just too into buttering my own nuts.

For me, it’s the same as a smoker being told repeatedly by their spouse that cigarettes are going to kill them. I know. I’m not stupid. I’m also not Leonard fucking Shelby. I can retain knowledge, and I do remember the other 500 times you told me about all the cancer I’m going to get from smoking!

…Where was I going with this? Oh, right, the exasperation of repetition. To quote Mr. Horse, “No, sir. I don’t like it.” Ignoring that, as stated prior, it’s an overall okay movie. Direction was fine, dialogue was fine, performances were fine for the most part (minus a little too much of leading lady Leila George’s grating accent). Better than what I expected from a TV movie, albeit a bit too predictable and all that “Bob Huge Hands wearing lead over mitts” heavy handedness. Given Franco’s involvement I was hoping for something a little more guano than the socially conscious made-for-TV remake of Embrace of the Vampire (sadly lacking the lusciousness of 1995 Alyssa Milano in a skirt) we got instead. That was also when I thought he was going to be directing it, though, so fuck me for having expectations scaled to false information. ‘Tis no one’s fault beyond mine own.

There are other heavy topics at work here, like domestic abuse (physical, emotional, and vampiric), peer pressure, date rape, generation gaps, gender politics, parental loss, gray morality, and how the first “Twilight” book was okay in theory but the sequels rolled downhill faster than Barbara Hale and Steve Brodie in The Giant Spider Invasion. Fuck you with a wooden stake, Stephanie What’s-Her-Name. Your hack novels have corrupted more young people than ISIS! You know, the terrorist organization, not actual Isis. She’s thinking of changing her name to “Brooke” now, just to avoid that whole messy “kill the non-believers!” thing. Anyway, one of the smaller, intimate themes I like about the movie fits in with the “being gay = movie monster” matter, but it’s a huge giveaway so I can’t even talk about it under ape spoiler law! Tell you what though, you send me a message asking me to expand upon said story element, and I will spoil the shit out of it just for you, Sugar Tits.

Final complaint? The movie’s finale must’ve been raised in a barn, because it leaves the door for a sequel WIDE OPEN. And in doing so, lets all of the metaphorical heat out. It’s better left as a one off flick and the possibility of a follow-up thrills me as much as mere alcohol thrilled Sinatra – not at all. Lifetime could probably win me back if they give Franco the reins to reign over it, especially if he had a few lines of coke to “inspire” him through the creative process!

Unless and until, I’m just going to treat MMISwD?‘s canned cheese epilogue like another kind of “log” and flush it from my memory. My Evil Dead Bride offered up a legitimate position on how said ending could symbolize certain peoples’ stances about the corruption of…damn it, there goes that spoiler warning alarm in my explosive collar again! I reiterate: if you want me to ruin the movie for you, please submit a formal request. In triplicate. My lawyers’ assholes are puckered so tight that light can neither enter nor escape them.

Beyond being part deux of my “Ladies Night!” Cineménage à Trois trilogy, I won’t say what the subject of our next episode will be. All I can guarantee is that it won’t be anything from a certain knockbuster factory whose name rhymes with “ass xylem”. Afraid I may have been showing the early signs of Stockholm Syndrome with my Sinister Squad review, I’ve had myself voluntarily committed (get it?!) into an Asylum asylum program until at least the end of the year. For now, I gotta get back to work on my death ray, so this ends our broadcast day. Ladies? Keep it sleazy, make ’em queasy, and when you can, top it off with a bit of the ol’ squeezy squeezy. Good night everybody!

Moral of the Story: If you’re a sexually malleable college girl who finds herself being courted by a Photography major, try to make sure your first date includes a quick pass by a mirror store and a garlic plantation before going back to their place. Vampirism is like any STD – a little prevention can save you an eternity of regret (and genital inflammation)!


Someone using their phone to actually talk to someone? This must be a flashback!

When three hot women come up to you out of nowhere and ask if you want to “have some fun” with them, kindly decline. They’re either going to make a blackmail video of you, or use you for a human sacrifice.

“Welcome to ‘Introductory to Film Making’. I am your professor, Uwe Boll, and I would like to take this moment to inform you all that this class is NON-REFUNDABLE!”

“You know how you said you ‘love me like a brother’ yesterday? Did you ever, you know, fool around with your brother or give him, like, a pity handjob or anything when you were younger? I mean, you know, just asking.”

Damn it, Franco, stop looking at the camera! You’re worse than Jimmy Fallon was when he’d break character on SNL!

“Hey! It’s that Tom Green guy! I wonder what he’s doing on our campus? Wait, is he… oh sweet Jimmy Dean! Is he having sex with the school mascot?! That poor platypus!”

“Baby, what did I tell you about throwing away your gum before bed? Jeez, that’s really in there. Well, looks like I know somebody who’s getting a butch cut when we get home!”

Whenever Sally’s feeling down, she knows Alice’s “derp face” will always pick her back up.

Good news, bad movie lovers! Robert Z’Dar didn’t z’die, he just had a sex change! Maniac Cop IV: Meter Maid from Hell, here we come!

Ladies and gentlemen, the world’s sexiest (and worst) ventriloquism act – Madam Marilyn and Her Mischievous Marionettes!

“No babe, don’t freak out! It’s not really my penis, it’s just my thumb sticking out of my zipper! See?!”

Another successful production of “Evil Dead: the Musical” is in the books.

What’s with her costume? Wait. Let me guess. She’s going as a chandelier lamp from WalMart!

A promotional still from the CW’s newest attempt at a recycled franchise: “Eddie Munster: the College Years

“What do you mean they made a ‘90210‘ reboot and I wasn’t a part of it?! Wait, I was on it?! Why don’t I remember ANY of this!?” (Don’t worry, Tori, NOBODY remembers anything about that show.)

She must use Listerine’s new “Blood Blocker” formula mouthwash, or Orbitz’s new “Gore-B-Gone” gum. All this image is missing is a hot British blond saying “FABULOUS!” while light gleams off of Pearl’s pearlies despite her menstrual beard.


Anubis will return next time in
“Monsters of the Runway”

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All materials found within this review are the intellectual properties and opinions of the original writer. The Tomb of Anubis claims no responsibility for the views expressed in this review, but we do lay a copyright claim on it beeyotch, so don’t steal from this shit or we’ll have to go all Farmer Vincent on your silly asses. © October 1st 2013 and beyond, not to be reproduced in any way without the express written consent of the reviewer and The Tomb of Anubis, or pain of a physical and legal nature will follow. Touch not lest ye be touched.

Feature 10 – Gallowwalkers (2012)

or “Walk Like Aman, Talk Like Aman, Kill Like Aman”

Featuring:  Wesley “Blade” Snipes , Kevin “The Last Horror Movie” Howarth , Riley “Spring Break Shark Attack” Smith

Director:  AndrewB.U.S.T.E.DGoth

Writers:  Andrew “B.U.S.T.E.D” Goth  &  Joanne “Cold & Dark” Reay

Origin: USA/UK



Damn it, humanity needs a “Reset” button. So, another Black Friday has come and gone and another year of consumer horror stories have been written in the blood of its victims. In the pursuit of saving money, either on gifts for others or gets for themselves, another group of victims have been trampled, bludgeoned, mugged, tasered, shot, or straight up dragged under cars because there’s an entire population of animals out there who don’t yet know that the internet can be used to buy things, not just watch every shade of the porno rainbow and pirate entertainment from any and every medium… though, given that RedBox is still a thing, I guess there’s still plenty of people who haven’t even figured out the pirating thing yet. What I’d like to propose is that next year, after the initial mobs of psychotics have herded themselves into the stores, all exits are locked, then blocked off on the outside with bulldozers. Everyone will be given barbecue forks upon entry, and kiosks will be set up in each store with free gallon jugs of drink for the customers/gladiators, which will consist of a highly concentrated concoction of Red Bull, tequila, bath salts, and pure wolverine adrenaline. The madness will be captured and broadcast via high-def cameras on pay-per-view. The survivors of each store will be rewarded with a set of bath towels, a $10 gift card to a drug store chain that doesn’t operate within three states of the winner’s home, and a limited edition t-shirt. The ladies’ shirts will read “I Survived the 1st Annual Black Friday Blood Orgy and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt”, and the mens’ shirts will read “Black Friday Mustache Rides $1”. Don’t like it? Tough. Use the fucking internet like the rest of the evolved humans or die slaughtered like the animal you choose to remain. Speaking of slaughter and black things, let’s watch Gallowwalkers!

Originally planned to film in New Mexico in 2005 as a Chow Yun Fat movie called The Wretched (which, obviously never happened), Gallowwalkers turned into a movie filmed in Namibia in 2006 starring Wesley Snipes. Just a few short years after finishing/burying the Blade franchise with Trinity, Snipes was obviously interested in trying to establish a new supernatural vigilante franchise. Not long into the shoot, Snipes had that little run-in with the IRS about all the money he never paid them. He came back to the states, gave ’em a million dollars, then went back to Africa to finish filming. Once the shooting was complete, it was just a short SEVEN YEARS until it was finally released… on DVD… and don’t get your hopes up, cuz they sure as shitballs didn’t put more than a month or two of that seven years into the cg effects!

Our hero Aman (Snipes looking like wild west Brother Voodoo) suffers the deadliest weakness of any hero: an incredibly convoluted origin. It takes half the movie, and one horribly delivered 3 minute 3rd person narrative to get it all out, but allow me to push you off the Cliff’s Notes version – Aman’s momma belonged to a group called The Sisters of San Diablo, who live within “The Mountains of Resurrection”, which sits atop a gateway to Hell. You might think that the mountains are the butt plug closing off this gateway, but it’s actually the non-stop prayers of the sisterhood that serve as the big rubber fist in Satan’s sphincter. Okay, I know I said we’re doing the abridged version of this back story, but let’s stop here for a second and address this “San Diablo” shit first. San Diablo literally translates to “Saint Devil”. How the FUCK does that work?! If this were a group of sex orgy nuns from a Behemoth video working to OPEN the gateway to Hell between sessions of pounding each other to orgasm with big black strap-ons, then yeah, Sisters of San Diablo is a great name! But taking a group trying to keep Satan in his own backyard in the name of good and chastity and christian love and protecting the world from becoming a molten cesspool of sin vomit and bowel shredding torment, then basically calling them The Sisters of Satan?! I know most people couldn’t care less about stupid shit like this, but to me it’s comparable to the movie unleashing a Candiru up my urethra that eats only dick meat and shits white phosphorus!

Also, that last statement was packed with so much hyperbole, you’d need to have your tongue removed and your throat replaced with a length of industrial sized vacuum hose to swallow it all… JUST LIKE MY DIIIIIICK! BLART!

As I was typing, back to Aman. So, when his mom was taken in by and became a member of the Satan Humpers Sisterhood for the Corking of the Satan Hole, her bun was occupied by the bun that would become our hero. The Sisters aren’t cool with babies though, so when Aman was born he was stoop dropped at the nearest orphanage until the ripe old age of twelve, when he was booted out into the real world to become a man. Before he could die of exposure as a barely pubescent kid trekking alone through the DESERT, he was taken in by a widow (Jenny Gago) and her age adjacent daughter Sueno (who grows up to be Alyssa Pridham). Living with the ladies, he earned his keep by learning their trade (slaughtering) and helping around the office (a slaughterhouse), and as Aman and Sueno grew up together, they naturally “grew up” together… by which I mean they had sex. They fell in love, which is a good thing too since they really didn’t have any other options… unless Aman had a taste for cougar or Sueno turned out to be a lesbian with LITERAL mommy issues…

While Aman and mom were off taking the latest order and meat and skins to market, a quartet of ne’er-do-wells happened upon the slaughterhouse in the middle of nowhere (which seems to do pretty well for having almost no cattle around to ply their trade) and things go really Crow from here. The scoundrels had their way with Aman’s little lady and skedaddled, and when he came back and found out Susie’d been used for an Oklahoma Slop Swap, he vowed vengeance despite her begging him to forget that it’d ever happened and just got on with their lives. If he’d had a job interview the next day where they ask that stupid question, “Where do you see yourself in five years?”, Aman’s answer would’ve been “Murdering the enemies I hunted for years when I discover they’ve been arrested and confined to jail cells, only to return to my beloved’s side to discover her dead.” and he would’ve been spot fucking ON. Now I know what I’m going to say during my next job interview… though the whole “half man, half jackal” thing kinda gets me discriminated against anyway, so Isis knows when that’ll be.

So, yeah, despite taking his revenge on the bastards in an anti-climactic-as-you-can-possibly-get scene of gunning them all down while they sit defenseless in their jail cells, it’s all for naught anyway because his beloved be-died in his be-absence. I won’t tell you WHY she died though, since I don’t want to ruin major parts of the movie for anyone looking to satisfy their curiosity. Or, as Bast and I call it, committing cat suicide. Anyway, I believe it was the great four color philosopher Dr. Doom who once said, “A man is measured by the enemies he keeps”. This would seem doubly true for our hero, since his name is Aman and all, so if Aman is truly measured by the enemies he keeps (please don’t hit), then he’d seem to be coming up pretty short if the targets of his vendetta are all wiped out in an all too brief exchange like that. Instead, all of the people Aman kills come back as seemingly invincible ghouls who retain their mental faculties, so they’re NOT zombies. The only real difference between their breathing selves and their postmortem makeovers are a set of stark yellow contact lenses and an inability to keep their heal their flesh from being baked and rotted in the desert parch. As such, unless they skin the occasion unfortunate gang of people, their skin will rot off and they’re left looking like Uncle Frank from Hellraiser post-puzzle box and pre-flesh suit… if he’d been put into a man-sized dehydrator (purchased from the Nazi Sharper Image catalog) and turned into jive turkey jerky.

And so, now it’s up to Aman to re-hunt the gang responsible for destroying his life that he’s responsible for restoring to life… for reasons that I, again, will not divulge for the sake of this review. Said villains bring their evil ways and skin snatching to an out-of-the-way town known as Enoch’s Hammer, populated by christian zealot extremist albinos (the fuck!?) who manipulate the nearby law enforcement offices into rounding up their sinners and bringing them there to immediately put to death on their gallows to save their souls from getting too damned and winding up in Hell… sorry, but I need to make another complaint to the dildo in charge of the naming department for this movie. Though Enoch’s Hammer is one of the coolest names in the history of naming stuff, it has NO religious base. It’s a reference to the hammers with which the 19th Century Luddites smashed the job stealing technology that was putting the work of skilled artisans like themselves into the hands of unskilled laborers who just needed to pull a switch and not get their limbs torn off in the process. The hammers were made by a blacksmith named Enoch Taylor, hence “Enoch’s Hammers”. It has NOTHING to do with christianity, extremist or otherwise, just anti-technology dudes who didn’t wanna lose their jobs. They’re also a “Country Dance Band” in the UK that you can check out here. And another Candiru goes straight up my piss hole. Thanks Joanne and Andrew.

One guy who was destined to swing by the neck in Hammer is pretty boy Fabulos, who evades the big finale thanks to Aman. In need of a Robin to his Batman before he can take on the re-animated reprobates, Aman frees Fab from a posse of crooked cops, enlightens him with that whole weird 3 minute third person narrative origin mentioned many many paragraphs before, and prepares him for the big to-do with the sinister sinsters who have fun names like Kansa (Kevin Howarth), Kisscut (Simona Brhlíková), Slip Knot (Jonathan García), and Skullbucket (“Diamond” Dallas Page!)… not to be confused with fun names like Top Dollar, T-Bird, Skank, or Funboy… The bad guys’ reputation for being hellborn horsemen of death and destruction has earned them the infamous title of “The Gallow Walkers” by the terrified populace… despite the fact that they were all killed by gunshots… yep, that’s THREE dick parasites now! I’m about ready to just shed this husk and get a new body. At least this one I can rent out as a freeloader flop house on the side.

And what’s the destination for these drolly dubbed deviants? They want to find Mount Resurrection, because oddly enough, Kansa’s dead son didn’t rise from the grave (well, corpse pile) with the rest of ’em. So, Kansa intends to bring him back the good ol’ fashioned way – through the magic of the giant stone sphincter stopper because, as he says, “If it’s good enough for Jesus, it should be good enough for us!”. The cool part? Junior’s body is toted around like a big crucified mummy the entire time on the back of resident butcher minion Mosca (Derek Griffiths), which makes for a great visual. I gotta give Goth that much.

Will Blade Brother Voodoo Aman be able to take down all of the Jerky Boys in the final wild wild west showdown at high noon on Boot Hill with a bonanza of gunsmoke, or will our hero be unable to end their evil since they won’t be the proverbial fish in a barrel this time? At least if he dies, Aman will be freed from ever having to buy hats again… cuz the only way to kill a “Gallow Walker” is by decapitation… and Aman is a “Gallow Walker” too… oh wait, I *SPOYLERZ, YOOOOO!!!1!* Aman’s a ghoul too. I wasn’t going to ruin the surprise, but I had to in order to address another problem with the movie – as stated, the villains need to replace their festering skin sacks periodically, which includes Mosca taking the interesting little initiative of using lizards butts to re-skin the back of his head because they’ll stand up to the sun longer than human skin. Anyway, the problem lays with Aman, who doesn’t have to deal with the dermal decay difficulty for reasons unexplained, probably in part because the hero can’t look like roadkill with a beard and in other part because Snipes wouldn’t agree to wearing the makeup for the limited payday he probably pulled in for this rest stop on the career highway.

For anyone who wants to say “But Anubis, I thought black people didn’t get sunburn?”, allow me to respond by telling you that’s a myth and you’re a racist for believing it. What would’ve been cool, and very doable provided you had the right leading man willing to do so, would’ve been having Aman replace his lost skin with animal hide, since it would be both far more durable than human flesh and thus require far less changing, plus it would be readily available given his adoptive mom’s slaughterhouse business. It’s hard enough selling the movie as it is though, so I can see where having your protagonist looking like New Jack City Leatherface (now THAT’s an action figure I’d buy!) could make it harder to appeal to would-be fans… or easier if you’re marketing to the right audience… Either way, a perfect opportunity for something unique completely squandered. Poopy.

Speaking of squandered, I was really hoping we’d get some more mileage out of Dallas Page’s paycheck. The Devil’s Rejects showed us what a fantastic dirt bag he can be, so restricting him to a single brief scene and hiding him the rest of the time under a big spiky Commando Cody bucket helmet is a shame. Hell, the guy was a professional wrestler for the better part of 15 years (and is currently a Yoga instructor and motivational speaker if you can believe it), but instead of having him put on a well choreographed brawl with Wesley’s stunt double, they just have him charge around in a barn like a junkyard Juggernaut. I don’t believe it was Page under that helmet, myself. I’m pretty sure he was there for his one scene of dialog, and after that they just paid a stuntman to finish out Skullbucket’s screen time. Like I said: squandered.

Despite my previous complaints… here are a few more! For starters, the cgi is crap. The makeup work is good, but the cgi (kept mostly to gore and dismemberment) was, in keeping with the movie’s original working title, wretched. If you can’t afford top-of-the-line tech, just stick with Karo Syrup, squibs, and fake heads. Next, the acting from this cast ranged from tolerable to terrible to “What the fuck is Welsey Snipes doing?!”. He sounds like friggin’ Tanto half the time, speaking in third person and leaving words out of his dialog like English isn’t Aman’s first language. Further down the path of disappointment is the camera work, which feels very “point and click”, and the music with is generic and lazy. Finally, a big splinter in my gums that applies to WAY too many movies where large groups of people are getting gunned down, Gallowwalkers also suffers from that I’ve dubbed “Ring Around the Rosey Syndrome”, where the fodder getting shot down by the hero/villain ALL FALL DOWN AT THE SAME TIME! “Ashes! Ashes!” is just replaced by “BANG! BANG!”, and every instance of it occurring raises my blood pressure that many points closer to a savage coronary. My left arm hurts just thinking about it. It doesn’t help that whenever someone gets their gun shot out of their hand, the actors just throw the gun aside. If you’re getting your firearm shot out of your hand, you’re getting your hand shot. You wouldn’t just move your hand to the side and toss the gun, you’d jerk your hand and react like you’ve just been shot IN THE HAND.

For all of its faults though, Gallowwalkers still does a few things right in my book. And when my book is The Necronomicon, all other books are Charmin. Despite being a massive rip-off of The Crow, the concept here is good if a bit muddled. A little bit of clean up, a little more about the Sisters of San Diablo, a LOT of revisions to goofy/illogical naming of everything, a boost in character development, and a bit more about Enoch’s Hammer and this weather vane would be on its way to pointing its cock in the right direction. I even liked the little Apprentice Boy (David De Beer), who serves as the movie’s rip-off of the Feral Kid from Road Warrior. He’s mostly mute and kills guys with his slingshot, so even though I hate kids, I don’t hate him. I also enjoyed the stark Namibian desert locales. Really gives you feel of barren western wastelands. The costumes and character designs are good too. If it weren’t for the stupid names (okay, Skullbucket is a pretty good name), the bad guys are otherwise very memorable. There’s a trio of cowboy cardinals (as pictured below) that are especially visually striking, but who don’t get nearly as much screen time as I’d like. I do like that Kansa spends most of the movie in the skin of an albino, so you’ve got the whitest white villain going against one of the most Nubian motherfuckers this side of Sam Jackson. It’s not a race thing (and I’m honestly happy that it never went there), and I doubt it’s supposed to be some “black power vs. white power” statement by Andrew Goth (the starring role was originally supposed to go to Chow Yun Fat after all), I just like the visual contrast. The albino look’s also way more interesting than the generic “dirty cattle rustler” look Kansa had going on in his previous life, so just go with it.

Overall, Gallowwalkers was already ice skating uphill by going with the cowboy theme (kids today want their monster hunting down in gothic, steampunk, dystopian, or modern city settings), so I admire its gumption going with something different. Shooting in those desert conditions has to be some of the hardest to do too, so props to everyone for putting up with it. With a little script reworking and story tweaking, some better line reading, and either a little more budget for visual effects or ALL of the effects budget for traditional work, I’d easy bump this sucker up a few hearts. As it stands, 2 life pumps are all she wrote, and I’m sticking with it.

Finally, I’d like to end my review on the following note: actress Tanit Phoenix has a prominent (and pointless) role as a prostitute “dancer” named Angel who literally adds nothing to the story. Every time I’ve glanced over Miss Phoenix’s name through the course of watching the movie and checking the IMDB page for info, I misread her name as “Taint Phoenix”, which makes me think of a flaming bird soaring majestically from between a redhead’s legs… you’re welcome. Good night, kids!

The Moral of the Story:You never forget the man who kills ya for the first time. First time’s always special.”


The scene at the dumpsters behind any Arby’s after the lunch hour rush.

“Kids, when the WWE tells you not to try anything you see on their programs at home? Don’t try anything you see on their programs at home.”

No matter how badass you make yourself look, no one looks cool riding a hand cart. NO ONE.

“Mrfff frmmrfff frrmrrrf frrrrrrmffmrmr!”*
(*”This is why you never swear in front at a nun!”)

Come on Marvel, make a Brother Voodoo movie happen!

The poor man’s Evan Stone (probably minus the scrotadactyl).

The poor man’s Harvey Keitel (probably minus the scrotadactyl).

Jack Links has found the spokesman for their new Turkey Jerky campaign!

Now, I KNOW black-face is fucked up and frowned upon, but… how am I supposed to feel about white-face?… hey, it was that or a bukkake joke.

“If you think the tails grafted to the back of my head are weird, wait till you see what I did to my tongue!”

“And this is for Invasion of the Neptune Men, you son of a BITCH!”

Willam Dafoe is Iggy Pop in “Butt Town: the Musical: the Movie”!

Anubis will return next time in
“Black (Pete) Christmas”

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