‘Dear God No!’ The Alt-cut Review
Editor’s Note: This “review” was written with an intentional tone of sarcasm and snark as a response to a handful of poorly-written negative reviews of Dear God No! While we certainly do not discredit other’s opinions we do wonder how well-respected websites and blogs can publish criticism of films when the reviewers display a clear lack of knowledge for the genre, and can cite only the most shallow of references. We thought it would be fun to write a “proper” negative review, of course – in our own unique “brutal” style – for your entertainment purposes only. For our official review, the one that landed a quote on the Blu-ray case, click on OVER HERE.
Dear God No!
Review by Psycho Billy
If one thing’s for sure it’s that you twats have likely heard more than enough about Dear God No! from this website. Not only have you gotten your fill here, but you’ve likely had more than your ears full from every other damn horror and exploitation blog on the internet. Well, now you get the alternate cut, the opinion to counter the endless praise. You see – I watched Dear God No! based on all the hype, but I have to admit that I don’t know what the hell all the noise was about. All I could see was that this was a non-stop festival of carnage, celebrating the best of the worst the indie horror genre has to offer. The idea of story or structure seemed to be tossed out in the window in favor of non-stop rape and ridiculous acts of random violence perpetuated for little more than audience titillation. Oh, for the love of gore!
Dear God No! tells the story of an outlaw biker gang “The Impalers” who spend their time doing burnouts on nuns and raping anything that will stop moving long enough so they can stick their dick in it. Crossing the line of good taste was something these guys blew past miles ago with little to no interest. Instead these badboys are hell bent on kamikaze style destruction. After they brutally murder a couple of cops they decide to chill out and lay low in the Georgian hills. Instead of taking it easy and partying it up they discover an evil that’s far worse than their meanest sadistic streak. Hells bells.
Dear God No! claims to be a nostalgic throwback to exploitation films of yesteryear. Though the question begs – what exactly is the point of making a “throw-back” film when the only people old enough to be able to catch all of the references are a bunch of crusty old bikers who have nothing better to do than to relive their days of smoking dope and checking in for the acid test? Seriously – do any of you even know what the acid test was? That or they are perhaps over-the-hill, overweight, genre geeks who get giddy at the mere mention of 42nd Street. (Like any of them ever step foot in an honest-to-goodness grindhouse theater!) What I’m trying to say is that Dear God No! is about as culturally relevant to today’s cult cinema fans as the sexual revolution is to fans of porn. The care and detail poured into the set designs, bikes, and clothing (even the tattoo free strippers) to ensure that everything was accurate to the period proved a wasted effort. No twenty-year old is even going to notice, or care. They don’t have the capacity for such frivolous detail. All they want are boobies, beer, and violence, which of course this film has – but little else.
While Dear God No! heralds itself as a exploitation film the only thing it seems to exploit is the audiences time and money. This is nothing like those Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino films that truly dazzle the eye and were made for the big screen. Instead DGN! (as it’s affectionately known to its near cult-like fanbase) opts to play out like a “lost film” and does so in a cumbersome fashion seen in old Herschell Gordon Lewis flicks. I mean seriously, who watches HG Lewis films and actually likes them? They’re slow, dated, and so ridiculously tame it’s a wonder Lewis got the moniker “Godfather of Gore”. More like old arthritic great-grandfather. And don’t get me started on Friedman. David Friedman was a fuckin’ hack. Everyone loved the man when he passed on, but poll of hands – who the fuck has ever seen a Friedman produced film, and further – how many of you are clicking over to Wikipedia even as you read this? Nuff said. The gore in their films was disgustingly unrealistic and the acting so incredibly cheesy it’s a wonder anyone can appreciate such slipshod filmmaking, nonetheless want to a make a new film that pays homage to such drivel. For shame.
Speaking of the acting, the so-called actors in Dear God No! are incredibly wooden. You’d think Bickert just chopped down a bunch of trees with his bare hands and threw them into the frame, ad libbing lines at random. Combined with such outlandish and crass one-liners this thing feels like a Roger Corman / New World Picture, minus all the Filipinos and Pam Grier. What the fuck?
The last time I watched a film made of such ineptitude was when I was invited to screen Werewolves on Wheels at a backyard drive-in. I was told it was an awesome biker film featuring a bunch of crazy satanists. Instead what I witnessed was a lazily tossed together pile of shit. Same thing here. All Dear God No! did was to substitute Satanists with Bigfoot. Well big deal. Bigfoot can suck my hairy left nut. Worse, you barely get to see the monster, probably because he was put together with scotch tape and Elmer’s glue by the local Girl Scout craft club. Yeah, I said it. And guess what? Paul Naschy was a punk too.
I guess what I’m trying to say is this: If you like shitty films from the 60’s and 70’s, stuff like The Gore Gore Girls, The Big Bird Cage, Cycle Savages, Werewolves on Wheels, Night of the Werewolf, etc then you’re probably going to LOVE Dear God No! It’s so accurate to that era (and so irrelevant to today’s “pseudo-grindhouse” culture”), that it’s instantly outdated. Hardly any of today’s viewers will catch the references making this a big waste of time. You’d be better off re-watching Hobo With a Shotgun. Not only that, but Bickert and crew shot the movie on actual 16mm film to make it more accurate to the era. Guess what? It worked! It looks like something pulled straight out an old shoebox in your grandpa’s woodshed. (This is me coughing up the dust of yesteryear). Oh, and here’s another wiki article in case you don’t know what 16mm is. Seriously, the filmmakers should have saved their money, shot it on digital (like everyone else these days) and used more money for CGI effects, so at least this would have been as entertaining as Machete. Good grief. I’m giving this two big thumbs in my stink hole.
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