Thursday, October 28, 2010

Wet Hot American Torture

Experiment in Torture (2007)
directed by Sean MacArthur, screenplay by Sara Angressani, Sean MacArthur, B.C. Hickey

Experiment in Torture is a meta-cinematic triumph, because watching it seems to be an experiment in being tortured. This is exactly what you deserve for watching a movie about strippers being abducted and tortured for no apparent reason. If you look up this film on IMDB you will find that the only entry under the "Fun Stuff" category is a suggestion that you watch another film or that you just ram your head into cinderblocks until you are unconscious. I forced myself to continue watching this "film" in part as a punishment for having spent nearly a whole dollar on this thing. This was one of the last films I watched in my spring slasher-fest and it was a suitable ending to an often tedious activity. While I still had plenty of other slasher films left in my bag o'cheap movies this one hammered a nail into my desire to watch more of these and then proceeded to hammer several more nails into my desire and then torched my curiosity with a can of gasoline. I don't even remember much of anything about this movie, and have little or no desire to refresh my memory. To be quite honest, I had trouble following the "plot" even while I was watching this atrocious monstrosity. Part of the problem seemed to be that somebody decided that if you can't hear words then you won't notice that they don't make sense. I've heard of mumblecore art films, but MUMBLE-TORTURE? Of course, intelligible words are not the same as intelligible speech and apparently the three people who put their collective minds to work on this "script" lost all ability to form sentences in the English language and certainly had no ability ever to string together two or more sentences into a coherent thought.

I am now going to attempt to put together something of a plot summary for this film:
1. Serial killers don't need a reason to kill. They just do...
This is the brilliant insight into the human mind that this film starts with. Unable to collectively come up with any kind of motivation for their killer, the filmmakers opted to go straight for chaos. Then we meet a guy who is talking the ears off of several women at a strip club. At this point it would seem that his means of expressing his misogynistic rage is to kill women with his pseudo-intellectual tediousness. Then we have some elapsed time after which the tedious fellow tries to get several of the women to hang out with him and continue his tedious conversation. One of the women responds with sarcasm. This makes her the smartest person in this film. I don't know what's more galling here, the obviously dumb guy trying to sound smart or the sarcasm of someone who clearly disdains all thought. And, as if to prove that humanity is a lost cause (as if this film wasn't enought proof) two of the women decide they've got nothing better to do than to continue hanging out with this guy. How bored are you people? I've never met people that bored or boring in my life.
2. We fast forward again (because time and space have no meaning to us anymore) to the girls in their car following the tedious guy in his car. They don't know where he's leading them but now they're stopped and he comes to their car. After some more tediousness the girls attempt to thank him for a lovely evening and go home.

Tedious Guy: I was just wondering, do either of you girls like Johnny Mathis?
Passenger Girl [shrieks with excitement]: I love Johnny Mathis!


Tedious guy punches the driver girl and then fast forward to them in the woods somewhere being bound and dragged around by the tedious guy and his masked accomplice. One of the girls reaches into a bag (presumably belonging to Mr. Tedium) and pulls out a brown bottle that she smashes against the accomplice's face. Close-up on the bottle's remnants on the ground with 2 pieces of masking tape on which we see the handwritten words "Hydrochloric" and "Acid". The accomplice guy then stabs the passenger girl to death and we see the guys running off into the darkness. This is one of the clumsiest set-ups for a plot device ever. And roll opening credits...
I should note here that the driver, Melissa (as if we get a chance to care about her name) is played by Iranian-born actress Marjan Faritous who has gone on to do hard-core pornography under the name Persia Pele. This is a decision I can hardly fault when "mainstream" acting consists of playing strippers who get punched after being asked if they like Johnny Mathis. At that point driving around Mobile, Alabama in a van and having sex on camera sounds like a step up on the career ladder.
And, on a more philosophical note, how would you feel if the last intelligible sentence you ever uttered was "I love Johnny Mathis!"? That's gotta be a bad way to go.

3. Now we're back at a strip club (presumably later, but I don't know because space and time have ceased to hold meaning here) and there are two new guys sitting and commenting on the girls and how they need to get rid of the hovering brother of one of them to get things moving with the girls. This is the point at which the machinations of plot and the revolving characters, not to mention the complete meaningless of time and space, turn this "film" into something unnecessarily arcane. I don't know who these two guys are and what they have to do with the pair who had the trouble with the acid in the first scene and I don't know why nobody in the strip club is wondering what happened to the other two girls. Is this the same strip club? Are we in the same timeline or plane of existence? I don't know and stopped caring about the time I heard the words "I love Johnny Mathis!" if not several minutes before. More characters (strippers, creepy guys, cougars, hawks, jerk-offs) are introduced and eventually some of the strippers accept a deal to go do a private party at a lake-house. A long chunk of time is then spent in creepy driving scenes, less creepy boating scenes and times that we might just put under the general rubric of an "exotic dancer camping retreat." This is part of the experiment in torture. How long can you watch this before you start screaming at the screen like a maniac about wanting to see some blood? I think (but I'm not sure because space and time ceased to have meaning for me) that about an hour passed during which time one of the strippers fell drunkenly off a toilet while trying to pee and another one was in the shower and several of them were in the woods for some unknown reason. Maybe it was two hours. Maybe less, since this is only supposed to be 80 minutes long. I don't know or care.

4. Somehow we end up with a basement filled with women in various states of torture or being tortured by people including acid face...well, mostly acid face. At one point he (or someone else) turns on the other guys and kills off some of them. Again, I lost track of why any of these things were happening. Acid face drills a hole in one woman's foot and slashes another's throat. It all comes off as pretty haphazard. It's all chaos here in the lakehouse of torture. Melissa (you remember her? the one who got punched in the face in the car...) comes back and shoots acid face, cuts off his hand and then helps the survivors to escape.

Melissa: You should have finished what you started.
Well, unless you're talking about this movie, in which case you should have quit and gotten jobs at Whataburger.

Melissa: How does it feel for your stupid fucking life to be an experiment?
I'm not sure, but thanks for asking. Also, I'm beginning to really dislike Johnny Mathis.

5. There's some sort of meaningless denouement with the good guy males (there were some?) regretting not being the ones to kill acid face themselves. And then we get a shot of Melissa sitting in a chair with a haunted look in her eyes (on account of not knowing about how she feels about Johnny Mathis--and, of course the horrific torture and killing and other deviant acts we can only imagine). This is supposed to be meaningful. It's not. All meaning was lost about the time the opening credits rolled on this thing, maybe well before that. I wouldn't know, because all time and space have lost meaning for me thanks to this film.

6. As if this wasn't enough there's an "Experiment in Torture" theme song specially written for the ending that seems to have been written by a Strawberry Alarm Clock tribute band with lyrics by Johnny Mathis. Will the torture never end? How long must this experiment go on? (The actual artist is named Zoomer. Zoomer needs to get a job begging for leftover grease in front of a Whataburger.)

7. Jesus on a stick, there's a post-credits behind the scenes tag moment! Stop it! I hate Johnny Mathis! Stop making movies!

Finally, the madness stops. It's morning again in America. I eject this disc from my player. Life can continue on. What was this experiment about? Will we ever know? I honestly don't care. I think the thing about miserably bad movies is that each one is horrible in its own way, which is what makes it difficult to pick one film as the worst film ever. I mean, Experiment in Torture is one of the worst films I've ever seen. I really hated it. But it's like saying one specific rat dropping is the worst rat dropping you've ever tasted. No matter how many rat droppings you taste, you don't really become a conoisseur who can rank them in terms of foulness, the last one you had will continue to be the worst one you've ever tasted until you stumble upon another one. Now, the mark of wisdom is the person who avoids tasting any rat droppings.
But artifacts of culture (books, movies, etc) are like relationships. You don't know how bad it's going to be until you're in it. You could avoid some of the worse ones, sure, but sometimes you just have to take a chance instead of staying home and watching Man vs. Food. Experiment in Torture is like going out on a date with someone who walks around twirling a loaded pistol. You know you're going to get shot before the night is out, but if you're bored enough you might go ahead and go to dinner just to see what happens. The answer, of course, is that you're going to get shot. Also, you might start imagining that the whole film is taking place in Johnny Mathis's imagination. Mostly, though, you'll be disgusted with yourself, with the people who made this film and with Johnny Mathis. If this was the last film left in the world I would destroy it and start from scratch with the idea of moving pictures.

And another thing...
Are you seriously telling me it took THREE people to come up with this? It only took one person to write Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Anna Karenina only took one writer. But Experiment in Torture needed three people. I would be more forgiving if this had been the product of one deranged mind. But a trio means that at any given moment when even two people might go off the deep end and agree on a bad idea then there was a third person who not only didn't put the brakes on this crazy train but who shoveled more shit-covered coal into the engine of madness. Three people? Really? Three monkeys throwing poop on a wall could have come up with a more coherent script. Forget what I said earlier. If these three people were working at Whataburger they'd hand me a bag filled with dried hippo turds and say "here are your fries!"

Trailers (for what can only be better movies)
1. Saw III
There's a line in this trailer that goes: Suffering? You haven't seen anything yet.
Do you people not know what disc you've put this on? I just watched Experiment in Torture you stupid puppet face bastard. I KNOW SUFFERING and you have no idea who you're dealing with here. I will tear you into little pieces and then make those little pieces watch this movie until Johnny Mathis shows up to punch you in the pieces of your dismembered face and then ask you "How do you like me, now, puppet ass!" Saw III? Saw your ass! Saw your tiny leathery puppet ballsack! Saw your mom!
2. Captivity
Elisha Cuthbert is being held in a torture dungeon. To paraphrase that Dodge commercial there are three things that America got right: Cars, Freedom and Torture. Guess which one is represented here.
3. Holla
Ah yes, the long awaited all-black remake of Scream. I'm not joking. I'm not sure anyone other than Johnny Mathis was waiting for this, but it was long-awaited.
4. Night of the Living Dead 3D
De3d
Zombies in 3-D might be cool, but can we have something like Late Afternoon of the Living Dead or Naptime with the Living Dead?
5. Fido
In this awesome film zombies (including Billy Connolly) are kept as pets and menial servants by normal people. It's tender and heartwarming, wacky and offbeat, zany and irreverent and also water soluble.
6. Dark Storm
A government experiment has gone awry and now the only person who can save us is Stephen Baldwin. I want you to think about that sentence for one full minute...and then never think about it again.
I've never seen that much dark matter in one place.
Other than in Stephen Baldwin's testes, that is.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Be Afraid...Of Laughter

Don’t Be Scared (2006)
Directed by Master P, Co-Directed by Myke Diesel, Screenplay by Master P

I suppose we have to begin here by questioning the sanity of anyone who goes out and buys a horror movie directed by Master P, even if it costs less than 99 cents. Curiosity only goes so far as a defense, but I will say proudly that if it had been an adaptation of Edith Wharton's Ethan Frome written and directed by Master P, I would have exhibited a similar curiosity. And furthermore, if you aren't just a little bit curious about what a film of any kind written and directed by Master P is like then what ARE you curious about in this world? Now, that doesn't mean that you have to go out and watch this movie, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't at least be somewhat curious about it. Just go ahead and admit that you're a little curious, because life is better when you're curious about things. Now, there may not be any undiscovered continents to explore, but here is something that is left to be explored and so here I stand before you, a man who has been to the undiscovered country of Don't Be Scared and can safely tell you all about it so you don't have to put on a pith helmet and watch it for yourself.

The biggest shock of the film for me was when I popped the DVD into my player and (as I often do with films of dubious merit or undue potential for making me want to poke my eyes out) checked the timer to see how long it was. The counter said 45 minutes. The back cover of the case said it was 75 minutes long. I actually found myself wondering if I had a defective copy, one which had been purged of 30 minutes of precious storytelling. I thought about this long enough to break out into hysterical uncontrollable laughter, a sheer childish joy that sent me reeling onto the ground and unable to breathe. It was a laughter of pure absurdity and it made me happy. At that moment I knew that I had purchased one moment of genuine good cheer for something along the lines of 78 cents. I could just chuck the disc out into my backyard for the raccoons to play with and I had gotten more happiness out of it than some people get in their whole miserable grasping lives. There are coked up filmmakers in Beverly Hills (probably with a hand in distributing films crappier than this) who don't know the kind of joy I had laughing at the missing 30 minutes.
I know that a part of me must have felt like calling Master P a cheat for delivering a half-finished movie to me, but that thought only made me laugh harder. I again had trouble breathing and had to take a few minutes to catch my breath from the laughter. And all I could think to say to myself was "Master P, you magnificent bastard!"
From this point on I knew that no matter how bad this film was, it was already almost over. (If you try the same trick while watching Last Year at Marienbad you usually have another hour and a half left to go.)

Needless to say, this 45 minute "film" was clearly missing something in the middle. You could tell there was a large chunk of action and exposition in the middle that had either been excised or never created. The same was true of the beginning and the end. The plot (yes, there was one) revolved around the death of a black student, Julius Curse (Joseph Williamson) at a Halloween party in an apartment. One of the girls had invited him to the party but the white boys didn't like his presence so they killed him and then buried him in the yard. Then we skip ahead several years later to another Halloween party (which looks suspiciously like the first party) at the same apartment. And now another black guy (this one played by Master P) is invited by a girl. In a way, you could say that this is the Last Year at Marienbad of Master P horror movies. Meanwhile in another room in the apartment a group of kids is playing around with calling up spirits and they unwittingly call up the spirit of Julius Curse (only after they accidentally call up Michael Jackson, who the kids find more frightening than Julius.) Try not to get too attached to the plot, it won't be with us for long.

Now, you might expect there to be a wide swath of exploitation to pepper this 45 minute vaganza (the "extra" was lost along with the other 30 minutes), and there certainly are a lot of attractive people at the party, but the end result is surprisingly light on the exploitation, even the obligatory shower scene (you didn't think that would get cut, did you?) features a woman with masking tape covering her nipples, but maybe that's a character choice. The fact that half a dozen people can disappear and be murdered in a 3 room apartment shows just how rockin' a party it must be. So, yeah, Julius gets his revenge on the people who killed him and their girlfriends, too, the cops show up to investigate the room full of corpses and the "film" comes to an abrupt end. It's like an expressionist drunk dial of a horror movie. To call this result rudimentary is to redefine rudiments. Rudiments should be made of sterner stuff. I haven't even mentioned that at least half of the dialogue in the party scenes can't be heard over the soundtrack. Dammit, Master P, what are you trying to pull here? I can't really hate Don't Be Scared, because there isn't enough of it to hate. And the whole racist murder angle gives it a kernel of something to hold on to. But still, I can't help feeling like this film is part of some long con and this is just the tip of the iceberg. Either that, or that they honestly forgot to edit in the other (better?) half of the film.
Master P, you magnificent bastard!

Bonus Features
1. Trailers
Don't Be Scared
HollyHood Cinema presents a trailer that is curiously enough not missing a half hour of material.
Repos
Okay, I know that a remake of Repo Men with Master P and Katt Williams is probably the last thing you'd want to see after watching (or even reading about) Don't Be Scared, but when the trailer voiceover says "A crackhead from Brooklyn gives it two thumbs up." and then there's a title that comes up on the screen reading "2 thums up" -- crack head, I have to admit that I started getting curious again. Master P, you magnificent bastard!
2. Music Video--"Shine" by Romeo
A shiny yellow sports car and a girl in a park with Romeo and several of his buddies. Also missing about 30 minutes of other material that I'm sure were cooler than what is left here.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Naughty Mittens

Murder Loves Killers Too (2009)
Directed by Drew Barnhardt, Screenplay by Drew Barnhardt

TITLE CARD:SOME YEARS AGO
Narrator: The friends lived in such a way as to defy boredom, refusing all proposals of responsibility and swimming upon the high tide of youth. The free spirits approached with a thousand anticipations of all the wonders their days would bring. Sadly, it was not to be as fate did not intend that they should enjoy their times for very long. Nevertheless, they were resilient in their determination to enjoy themselves with an enthusiasm unrivalled. They practiced the science of every kind of misconduct and professors of that science were always made welcome. They made good on innumerable occasions to improve their intimacy with a blind partiality, as a bird sings or a rose blows from nature. Let it suffice to say that they were poised to enjoy their summer escape, free of care, at the idyllic mountainside retreat...and, no doubt, they would have had they not all been brutally murdered, one by one.

I had a feeling this film was going to be different from the run of the mill spring break cabin slaughter movie when the nonsensical British narrator started up with a Wind in the Willows style narration as a van full of kids drives along a curve in the mountains. It looks like a jeep filled with a drunk version of the Scooby Doo gang is going by. Then, when the above narration is complete we get a subtitle that reads "NOW" and a more contemporary looking bunch of college kids headed to a cabin. Why did we have that opening? I have no idea...and I love that. In the car we meet our victims, the thrill seekers Brian (Scott Nadler) and Tamra (Mary LeGault), the spaz Lindy (Kat Szumski), the voice of reason girl Aggie (Christine Haeberman) and the other guy Kyle (John Jenkinson). Their first mistake is driving up to the mountains in an old Chevy Nova and pushing the car to its limits, which unfortunately for them were reached sometime in 1975. But at least we have good tunes because this is where we get to hear the song "Let's Traumatize Aunt Debra" which sounds like a Man Man song and is one of the original musical highlights that makes this film so much more enjoyable. I must also add that the opening theme has a Tales from the Crypt-like charm to it that I quite enjoyed.
One of the unexpected charms of this film is the the nonchalance of the killer. The annoying young folk have been in the cabin for all of a minute before one of them (Lindy, who was already clearly high on mushrooms and rotten weasel meat back in the car) stands too close to the drapes by the sliding door and is just grabbed and taken away while everyone else is still exploring the vacation house. There's no blood, no screaming, not even much in the way of suspense. One minute Aggie was talking to her and the next she's gone--presumably out for a run in the woods.
It takes us more than half the film before we get the name of the killer, Stevie (Allen Andrews) and almost as long before we even get a word out of him.
Unlike a piece of torture porn we aren't treated to scenes of Lindy being tortured and killed. In fact, all we see of her ever again is when Kyle is caught by Stevie and hung up and eviscerated we notice that Lindy is being stored in the same storage room having already been done away with. Though we do hear her being killed offstage while her oblivious friends shrug off the sound. Kyle's capture is even more nonchalant as he goes out for a run and sees an open door and when he looks in he sees Stevie standing there in a bathrobe sipping from a coffee mug and before anyone can say anything Stevie knocks Kyle upside the head and drags him into the storage room. There's nothing like seeing a horror movie killer calmly enjoying a break from his "job." It was like that old cartoon with the sheep dog and the wolf who clock in and out at the same place and then attempt to kill each other until 5pm. Stevie is the kind of serial killer who clearly enjoys what he's doing without having to work at it every moment of his life. You just can't imagine Jason Vorhees having a sandwich or Freddy Krueger enjoying a cup of coffee or Michael Myers taking a dump and that is clearly a failure of imagination that Drew Barnhardt solves in this film with Stevie who, we find out has a very real suburban life that he goes back to after his periodic murder sprees. In fact, he pretty much pretends to go on business trips when all he does is drive out to the cabin and kill people.
At any rate, while Unlucky Lindy is spared onscreen grotesqueries Kyle has no such luck. Kyle is hung up with a meathook in the back and is stabbed and has his intestines (well, just one intestine) pulled out. Meanwhile his friends are in the living room having a drinking montage which gives us another shot at original music, in this case a party song ("Let's Hole") with the chorus "Booty loose, booty troubles, booty juice, booty bubbles." The drinking/party montage takes us to sundown and gives Stevie a chance to catch his breath and prepare for the evening takedown. Also, Stevie is a bit of a clean freak so he cleans up the bottles and glasses in the kitchen area while he waits for his next chance to kill. It's nice to see a murderer with a work ethic and who values tidiness. He is, of course, also clearly deranged as evidenced by the "Happy Birthday big Stevie!" cake he puts on the table and the party hat he puts on the unconscious Brian before proceeding to stab him and then (as if multiple bloody stab wounds weren't enough) snap his neck. And Stevie's tidiness does not extend to keeping the cake from getting spurted with blood. Hey, at least Brian got one last chance to fool around with Tamra on the pool table upstairs before being ceremoniously offed by a psycho. And at least he doesn't get what Tamra gets, which is a flying knife that goes straight into her open mouth. Freudians, start your engines!
Now it's just down to Aggie vs. Stevie and at least Aggie is aware now that there is a problem. Knowing really is half the battle in this case. There is a long sequence as Stevie tries to hunt down Aggie while she does what she can to escape or hide or both. Stevie gets the drop on her and finally we get to hear him speak as he delivers a monologue to her while she's tied up in a bed and he proceeds to explain his issues calmly in what has to be one of the most egregiously awesome cases of monologuing in any kind of film ever:
God, I'm so sorry about this. Yeah, let me explain. The fact of the matter is...I'm sorry, bear with me...I'm flying by the seat of my pants here. I wasn't gonna say anything, but, if you're gonna get wet you might as well go swimming. Truth be told, the way this is gonna break down is I have a sexual problem and I'm gonna need your help.
Yeah, I know that's not exactly what you wanna hear, but it's important to me, nonetheless. Yeah, I know, you've pretty much got a situation on your hands, but, be that as it may, if we can collaborate in a productive manner I don't see any reason why we can't get through this together, re-energized even. I've been doing some work around the house with your friends and I must say I've not been able to open up a line of communication with any of them. But, far be it from me to muddy the waters, when in all likelihood you'll get the spirit of this thing right away and run with it. Thankfully, I had a few moments to sit and collect my thoughts and I wrote down all my feelings about you in a letter.
My Beautiful Flower,
Watching you grow has been the greatest joy of my life. You inspire me at every turn. You allow my imagination to run wild with new possibility. That you have come into my life is proof of a greater power. That power is love and it is alive in all of us. I don't know what I would do if I ever discovered that you have been untrue. I want you to know that we will be together for the rest of your life and whenever you feel vulnerable or afraid I will be there.
Okay, are you ready to jump in? Hit the ground running, as it were? Are you comfortable? There you go. Now, I want you to know that from here on out if you feel it necessary to address me, I'm going to have to insist that you call me "Dad." We're going to have to go over these lessons later. But for now, I have some concerns that must take precedence and we're going to have to focus on my issues for the time being, okay?
You know what? I'm going to call an audible here. Sorry to throw you a curveball like this, but whenever I get an idea I like to realize it to its full potential. I call it "The Hippo." It's important to leave a window open for when these things pop up. So, what I'd like to do is untie your hands from behind you and then tie them in front so that you can put your arms around me like an embrace and then we'll go from there. But, I'm not going to do this unless we're on the same page. Do you agree to these terms? Are you with me? Okay, now I needn't remind you that screaming is a bad idea. It doesn't mesh with the way I like to do things and it just makes things take a lot longer. And I hasten to add that what I do require is a certain amount of concentration on my part. Naturally, I have a process and I like things just so. I mean, I wouldn't come into your house and repaint the whole place. Are you okay? I'm afraid it has to be okay. Oh yes, this is very good for me. You know what? I know a way to make this even better. I want you to know that I want you to keep things natural I think you notice to the extent that---

At this point Aggie manages to get off a quick kick and struggle her way out of the cabin but she can't seem to get into a car quickly enough so she makes her way into the woods where Stevie catches her and then proceeds to dump her in the truck of his car and goes home to his suburban life. When Stevie gets home his wife, Stella (Kathryn Playa) who is wearing the same kind of white shift that Stevie had put on Aggie (and on Lindy for that matter), greets him, surprised that he has come home early from his "convention." While she sends him into the kitchen for some leftovers she hustles her lover out of her bedroom in what now seems to be turning into a French farce. Gee, Stevie, maybe if you weren't a psychopath obsessed with your own daughter then Stella (Stella!) wouldn't be cheating on you. In the morning we get a scene of domestic banality and quiet desperation. The daughter Missy (Kelly Devoto) failed a math test and is defiant of her mother's authority, Stella wants to have a talk with Stevie about something important, and Stevie wants something more substantial for breakfast but isn't allowed because of his cholesterol. Stevie puts off Stella's talk and heads to the driveway where Aggie jumps out of the trunk of the car and proceeds to viciously beat Stevie with a tire iron. And then she rips out his tongue with her bare hand and proceeds to shove it back into his mouth and hold his jaw shut while he chokes to death on his own blood and tongue. (Spoiler alert?) But it doesn't end there...it ends with Stella and Missy running out of the front door of the house to find the awkward scene of brutality in front of them. And cut to black...
I have to say that this is one of the most awesome endings of all time. And just to put the icing on the awkward cake we are treated to one last original song, "Naughty Mittens" which is one of the peppiest happiest tunes you could ever find.
It's rare to find a film that mixes in creepiness with humor without becoming too cutesy or simply devolving into parody. This is that rare case. It's worth watching for "Naughty Mittens" if for no other reason. It's fun just to say the words Naughty Mittens. I chuckle every time I think of the words Naughty Mittens.
The point is, that this film shows superior writing and makes the most of limited resources and knows how to add value to what they have with interesting choices and great music.

Bonus Features
1. The Making of Murder Loves Killers Too
The cops got called on them when they were filming in the cabin, but the cops found the whole thing hilarious and fascinating. Great look at the process.
2. Creating a Killer
A look into the approach to creating the character of Big Stevie.
3. Director's Notebook
"And, of course, you open with the Barry Lyndon style narration...which, I don't feel enough slashers have Barry Lyndon references and that's what you get from Murder Loves Killers Too." Drew Barnhardt
I really admire a writer/director who makes a horror film with a reference to Barry Lyndon. A crappy horror director, to be sure, would fall back on all kinds of cliched references to The Shining, but Barry Lyndon? Now, that's what I call an interesting choice.
4. Music to Murder By: Scoring Murder Loves Killers Too
Ryan Franks is a genius. That's all I can say.
5. Title Madness
Drew Barnhardt opens up a binder and reads a list of titles that were considered for this film before they arrived at the final title. I cannot do justice to this without commenting on the complete list of titles, but since reading them out takes nearly 14 minutes of time I'll have to save that for a separate post. Suffice it to say that if someone makes just one of these titles into a real movie it would be hilarious. I can't even pick just one favorite, but as an example I will use You're Dead as a Doornail, Debisue.
6. Artwork Gallery
It's not the Metropolitan Museum of Horror Movie Art.
7. Original Trailer
The trailer is way too conventional and creepy and doesn't hint at the weird juxtaposition of humor and horror here.