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Wow, is this film ever going to freak people out! Director Graeme Whifler filed his teeth down into lethally-pointed fangs writing scripts like Sonny Boy and directing eccentric fare for such bands as The Residents, Oingo Boingo, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. All of this in preparation for a sick, audacious work that opens as an ironic comedy, takes a few black turns, keeps you smiling (albeit far less comfortably then before), introduces some extremely preserve sexual elements, throws in some gross-out humor as a diversion? and then plunges its audience into a violent abyss of extremities so potent that a person fainted during its World Premiere at the New York City Horror Film Festival! In spite of the film’s low budget, Whifler was able to call in favors from many long time A-list industry vets for his crew: the film was edited by David Rawlings (Saturday Night Fever, The China Syndrome, Osterman Weekend), shot by cinematographer Bernd Heinl (Bagdad Café, Bodies, Rest And Motion) and features unforgettable make-up effects from Leonard McDonald ( The Village, Cat In the Hat) of Steve Johnson’s Edge FX, who was no doubt thrilled to be afforded a chance to do grislier creations than could ever be permissible in the major studio productions on which he typically works. Imagine an intellectual HG Lewis directing The Burbs after staying awake for three weeks straight talking to neighbors he detested. The result is pure malicious magic, baptized in urine, feces, vomit and blood. —Mitch Davis

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