DVD Review: Creepazoids
Creepozoids (1987)
Studio: Full Moon
Theatrical Release Date: December 9, 2003
Directed By: David DeCoteau
Cast: Linnea Quigley, Ken Abram, Michael Aranda, Richard L Hawkins, Kim McKamy
Review By: Benjamin Bussey
It is the distant future year of 1998. Much as we knew it would be, the world is well and truly FUBAR, blown to shit by nuclear war, the resulting wastelands ravaged by acid rain, and the few survivors forced to scavenge to survive. We know this not because we’re shown it on screen (what do you think this is, Waterworld?), but because there’s a little blurb that comes up telling us as much a minute or so in, which has the good grace to stay on the screen at least thirty seconds longer than it needs to (an immediate indication of just how literate the audience is assumed to be). This following a lame opening scene in which a lab scientist suspects there’s something at the door, and it turns out to be a sub-Giger phallic beastie type thing. And what do you know – a bunch of army deserters, living the aforementioned scavenger lifestyle, take shelter in that very lab, and find themselves at the mercy of the aforementioned beastie type thing. Grrr. Arrrgh.
I think I can attribute my not particularly enjoying Creepozoids to several key factors. Firstly, I watched it alone. Secondly, I only drank one beer. Thirdly, I actually sat still and watched and listened to everything that was going on. Had I not approached the film in so foolhardy a manner then I’m sure everything would have been great. I’m not certain the metaphor I’m about to employ will successfully cross the Atlantic, but what the hell, I’m going to give it a whirl anyway… Creepozoids is the celluloid equivalent of a fried-egg sandwich at the end of a night on the tiles. It’s greasy and messy, but very satisfying when you’re in that particular state of mind and body, when your drug/s of choice has frazzled away your standards and you want something simple, flavoursome and unhealthy. And when in that state of mind, you care little for presentation. One does not break out the finest granary loaf for a fried egg sandwich, nor does one fry said egg in extra virgin olive oil. Just bog-standard white sliced and whatever cholesterol-clogged cooking fat that happens to be festering on the counter (most likely from the previous night’s fry-up) will do nicely, thank you very much. As such, one is not going to care too much that the movie looks like it cost about a hundred dollars, sounds like it was recorded on a Dictaphone, and is supremely low on substance.
No, that’s not the problem. Low production value and even lower artistic merit – that goes without saying. The real problem I have with Creepozoids in my annoyingly balanced and coherent mindset is, it doesn’t even deliver on what it promises. Splatter? Yeah, there’s a bit of it here and there, some of it of passing amusement. But it’s not all-out; it doesn’t beggar belief or induce nausea in the manner of The Evil Dead (an obvious influence), Peter Jackson’s Braindead (or Dead Alive as y’all Americans know it), or more recently the zero-budget Brit-flick Animal Soup. Sex? Nope. Sure, it seems the future army has forbidden female officers to wear bras, and there’s a little nudity – one of our protagonists is played by Linnea Quigley, after all – but it’s all limited to a lone brief soapy shower scene, nothing to match her staggering almost exclusively nude presence in Return of the Living Dead. Also, maybe it’s just me but without the pink hair or the knee high socks, I don’t find her particularly sexy. There’s one tease of a moment when you think Kim McKamy’s going to get in on the action too – you know, the old ‘turn back to camera and make as if you’re about to lift your top, then stop and turn your head at the last moment’ trick. Once more: grrr. Arrrgh.
Like I say, had I seen this with a bunch of like-minded friends while drunk or otherwise not completely awake, I might have had better things to say. Even better, if I’d seen it when I was a kid and liked it then, then I’d probably heartily recommend it. But with neither nostalgic sentiment nor chemically induced enthusiasm to support it, Creepozoids barely registers as a blip on my cinematic-psychological radar. If I want possession-themed body horror, I’ll watch Evil Dead or Demons; if I want post-apocalyptic action I’ll watch Mad Max 2 or Doomsday; and if I want Quigley nudity I’ll stick with Return of the Living Dead. But hey, take me out all night, pour X number of beers down my gullet and make me watch it again, and perhaps I’ll sing a different tune.
Brutal As Hell rating:
2 out of 5
