Excellent Spam-in-a-Rubber-Room horror
flick about a gal who was almost burned up in a Jim Jones Guyana
deal that happened in 1974, only she was the only survivor and
went into coma and now she wakes up 14 years later and thinks
this Charlie Manson pit-face monster is coming back to get her.
The only things she fears more than that is . . .taking her medication. She's in a cool white nuthouse where everyone has
video monitors and they sit around in therapy sessions screaming
and explaining why it's okay to talk about putting ice picks
through your hand if you need to get in touch with those
feelings. But after a few days of this she starts going bonkers,
the dead Mutant Buddhist comes back to haunt her, and all the
patients who know her start killing themselves "for the
publicity. The cops investigate, but decide all the people dying
over at the nuthouse is a "coincidence." Thirty-seven dead
bodies. No breasts. A 78 on the Vomit Meter. Blood and body goo
leaking out of air vents. One bimbo drowning. Approximately seven
minutes of screaming. Chest mutilation. Gut gouging. Exploding
sedan. Exploding hippie house. Exxon Super Unleaded baptism.
Gratuitous psychiatrist-pancaking by a deranged hit-and-run
driver. Coffee pot Fu. Scalpel Fu. Knife through hand Fu.
Formaldehyde Fu. With Susan Barnes as the crazy Connie who gets
eaten by an air-conditioner turbine ("We're so pathetic, rutting
like rabbits"), Richard Lynch as Harris the Charlie Manson-
Freddie Krueger lookalike ("Your pain is my pain"), Damita Jo
Freeman as the moon-face love child who wanders the halls, Susan
Ruttan as the bonkers reporter for "Me" Magazine, Dean Cameron as
the gonzoid stand-up comic who likes to ram knives through the
palm of his hand, E.G. Daily as Lana the space cadet who has to
kill herself because someone said "Please leave me alone," and
Jennifer Rubin as one of the finest porkchop-survivor "final
girls" in horror history. Written and directed by Andrew Fleming,
whose best line is "If I kill you, it's because I love you."
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