(1990)
Dir - David A. Prior
Overall: WOOF
The worst kind of schlock is boring schlock, and that is the category that the B-level crud rock The Lost Platoon falls into. One of many dopey genre movies in a career's worth of them from director/co-writer David A. Prior, the premise has the right idea at least, as it concerns a group of vampire mercenaries, (meaning vampires that are mercenaries, not mercenaries that hunt vampires), who currently find themselves in Nicaragua where an evil dictator is doing evil dictator things. Also, a man who the undead soldiers had assisted decades ago during World War II shows up as a correspondent, trying in vain to convince people that these immortal badasses are the same ones that have been doing their shtick for over a century. A movie cannot get by merely on its thesis though, and this is some mediocre balderdash at best. The performances are universally awful, with gruff character actors laying on the scenery munching while embarrassing themselves as tough guy bozos, plus the action sequences are lazy enough to sleep through. Some moments of unintentional humor creep their way in, but this is mostly just bargain bin trash that no one will remember the second that it ends.
(1991)
Dir - Deryn Warren
Overall: MEH
Director Deryn Warren made three moderately cheap horror films in quick succession of each other before retiring, the last of which Black Magic Woman features both Mark Hamill in the lead and the Santana hit played over sex scenes. Structurally, it is a bog-standard straight-to-video thriller of the erotic variety, one that never gets too violent or too kinky and easily could have run on either the USA Network or Cinemax with minimal editing. Hamill proves that he was always a better actor than his post Star Wars career deserved, oozing a type of yuppie sleaze as a playboy art dealer who runs into conflict with Prince protégé Apollonia Kotero. He predictably succumbs to diabolical forces when he cannot keep his member in his pants, but the script by Warren, Marc Springer, and Jerry Daly manages to subvert some expectations in its closing moments at least. Unfortunately, the set pieces are bland and the presentation too cozy to offer up any proper menace, cruising along with its cheap keyboard score as Hamill charms potential customers, takes showers, gets steamy with the ladies, loses his shit, and falls victim to a deadly love triangle.
(1998)
Dir - William Kersten
Overall: MEH
Writer/director William Kersten's only full-length Disembodied is a bizarre and low-rent piece of body horror that never achieves the type of midnight movie quirkiness that it sets out for. Chalk it up to Kersten's inexperience from behind the lens or that of his no-name cast who stumble through some head-scratching scenes, none of which go far enough into wacky directions to leave a mark. Reading the plot synopsis would allude to a more ridiculous viewing experience, since this seems to be a Frank Henenlotter homage, and that guy certainly makes weird movies. A woman who seems several sandwiches short of a picnic arrives at a dingy hotel, only to be told by the gross innkeeper who looks like a shaved Hans from The 'Burbs that the only room available is down in the boiler room, which suits the woman fine since she is carrying around her brain in a portable compartment and has some kind of alien parasite growing inside of her that makes her cheeks fill up with puss spores and allows her to birth other vaginal-esque parasites from her abdomen. More odd that all of that though is how aimless the presentation is. Most of the scenes meander around without either advancing anything or providing much WTF chuckles, as if the film itself is suffering from the same type of brain-fog that our actually brainless main character is.
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