When the family’s away Cult will play, or alternatively seek out unsavory celluloid.
My apologies, I appear to have done it again. Another foray into the undead canvas wherein many a filmmaking student has donned a freshmen directorial hat and left an impression by splashing their own brand of crimson hue. So, what is it about this title that grabbed my attention so, Well I’ll not beat around the bush, this features title yanked at my attentions, for obvious reasons. Curiosity overcame me, can all …’versus Zombie’ features be atrocious or is it just the vast majority? I decided to take a leap of faith tossing my opinions aside I prepared myself whatever wickedness might tear into my unsuspecting retinas.
Milfs vs. Zombies (2015)
Directed by Brad Twigg
Fuzzy Monkey Films
Well, you’re better prepared than me. Here’s the trailer:
Breasts of the mammoth variety, atrocious acting and kindergarten style FX in the opening scene usually only means one thing, and in my extensive experience this is the introduction to either a 70’s Grindsploitation feature (HardGore comes to mind) or a downright dirty, deliciously jaded gem from the dregs of the lowest end of zero to no budget Indy filmmaking spectrum.
Thankfully as the film played out I was drawn to the premise that both might be in the offering. With such early priceless dialogue as…
“Clint Howard taking a sponge bath would get you hard…
I wouldn’t fuck him with a stolen pussy.”
My interest was budding. This was not at all designed for church going types or the impressionable, displaying no PC values whatsoever this was an adventure I was going to relish, of that I had no doubt. Acting prowess among those very same lines made for a horrific B grade experience that’s extremely difficult for me (wait for it) not to appreciate, especially because I was watching this home alone and had the chance to fully immerse myself in the murkiest waters that zero production cinema had to offer (suffice it to say that the wife doesn’t like this genre in the slightest).
Genre fans have a chance to rejoice, as if this movie isn’t enough reason, as celebrated B movie icon James L Edwards (from The Dead Next Door fame. If you know not of this gent, or the movie, you need some Indy filmmaking education stat!) makes several appearances. From his lofty parapet in The Divinity Church, in true Indy fashion usually at the oddest of time, as the film unfolds he graces us with words of divine inspiration and biblical wisdom complete with a number where one might contribute to the cause, if you feel so inclined (A working number in Ohio that I was very close to dialing merely for shits n’ giggles sake). His righteous preaching (it’s the rapture…repent. God loves you I love you, have a great day) adds to the narrative where a traditional-been-done-so-many-times-before-now backstory would also work. This narrative is also aided by none other than Uncle Lloyd Kauffman himself and even the President chimes in (dammit it – he’s on every channel) with …we have a new enemy…known as the undead!
As if that’s not enough there’s even a Zombie Squirrel (Editor’s Note: someone get Voidhanger on the horn, he loves squirrels), a slew of unabashed porn actresses displaying their talents whilst smiling ear to ear, a merman (I said this flick was inventive, right?) and a full-on grass trimmer massacre, I forgot to take note of the manufacturer in this scene, the one I have doesn’t even cut grass efficiently.
In all honesty, this is some ‘hardcore shit’ only recommendable to those with a wide-open mind, a hunger for bad acting, hilariously awkward dialogue, FX and make up ranging from no effort to oddly surprisingly decent, and a huge capacity for on screen rampant nekkidness (takes a breath). That, and there’s enough flesh ripping and gut munching to finally give Fulci (RIP) and Romero a reason to regularly visit a licensed therapist.
If the Troma style and the numerous features in their diverse stable get your blood pumping, the extreme Indy balls to the wall attitude gets you more excited than a Victoria Secret catalog and features that showcase little to no acting prowess do very little in the digit that controls the STOP button on the remote department then, by all means, give this a peek. I can imagine fellow Indy extreme film maker Bill Zebub enthusiastically raising both thumbs up in appreciation! There’s an inside nod (to the ultra-low budget genre) if ever there was one.
Obviously, this film does very little for the serious female fatal genre, even less for juvenile stereotypes but it is overflowing with cheese, is as campy as a national park, has a rocking soundtrack, is bizarrely inventive and is more than just merely downright amusing. Let’s be honest at this juncture sometimes that’s all that really matters in escapist cinema, depending on of course the viewer’s views, attitude and mood.
Guilty pleasure be damned who doesn’t appreciate worshipping female flesh in abundance, cliché buggery, abounding perversity and projectile woodland critters intent on jugular molestation.
Amazingly I caught this treat on Amazon Prime and felt guilty enough while watching it (in its entirety) to expect my parents to burst in at any moment. “Put ‘that’ back in your pants!” Alas it always was and thankfully it never happened, but there’s always next time. To which I say bravo Amazon for allowing this end of the genre to breath and giving jaded individuals like yours truly something to do whilst the family is visiting the In-laws. However, I doubt very much that my excuse will work next time after the wife finds and reads this!
-Cult (@cultmetalflix on twitter)
(And, Brad if you’re reading this I would love an opportunity to converse about the scene and any upcoming and past projects of note. Milfs vs Zombies has more than peaked my interest. I’m easy enough to get ahold of.)
On all accounts, there’s talks of a sequel to which I say where do I sign up.
(Editor’s note: MILFs vs. Zombies 2 is currently selling these dope ass shirts to raise funds, click here to buy yours.
This is a great place to start. I want that shirt on display.