Club Vampire (1998)
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(3 cow pies)
Ahh, nothing like a bracing constitutional to the local Blockbuster to pull down from the shelves a stinker so bad that not even Skin-amax will play it at 3 a.m. on a Friday night.
Club Vampire is an appallingly awful, deadful mess of a vampire moovie, bolstered by wretched acting, cheap fx, stupid characters, and faux-artsy direction. Never has the MooCow seen such horrible pretention boldly displayed as "art". Club Vampire comes off as one of those fake "alternative" flicks where everybody has a ring stuck in their face, even the kids. The whole herd howled in laugher through out the entire moovie, which showed, among udder things, an underground nightclub where chunky, hairy men are ridden like horses, topless bimbos playing nude "Twister" to cheesy Kenny G-like lite-jazz, and a green-haired, spider-tattooed midget vampire, who pops around at will, sort of like a demonic little Kazoo from the old "Flintstones" cartoon.
John Savage(The Deer Hunter) gives the embarassing performance of his life, every bit as bad as John Voight's overwroght, cheesy performance in Anaconda. He twitches, he pouts, he spouts inane dialogue generally reserved for the cheapest porno flicks from the lowest peep shows from the Philippines. I hope he got paid well for smearing muck, mud, slime, and goo all over his good professional name. We are actually forced to hear and watch John Savage rap. The horror...the horror...
The rest of the grade "D" cast is worse, and overacts shamelessly. The usually reliable Michael J. Anderson("Twin Peaks") gives a shameful performance as the green-haired tiny vampire, and the MooCow feels very sorry for him. Starr Andreef (Scanner Cop) has all the charisma of a used condom found floating in the muck of a backed-up city sewer. Porn actors in vile snuff films have given moore professional perfomances. Watching her puke up and pull out her own intestines(pitiful though the effect is) ranks as one of the mooost depressing, vile, and icky things this cow has ever seen. The very idea that she plays someone's MOTHER is perhaps the ickiest idea of all. :=8P
The blame for this pathetic, appalling trainwreck can be placed squarely on the shoulders of one Andy Ruben, writer and director. No stranger to bottom-feeding trash cinema, Andy Ruben, as a writer, is responsible for gracing the world with such memorable grade-Z rubbish as Stripped to Kill, Poison Ivy, and Rumble in the Streets. But on Club Vampire, he gets to sit in the big chair and REALLY let his imagination take flight! Imagine: this pusilanemous flotsom of a vision came directly from his brain. Ed Wood eat yer heart out, indeed.
It you can detect the liver-spotted, gin-soaked hand of Roger Corman on this feeble flick, give yourself an A+!! Yes, this is an-udder Concorde-New Horizons stink-pie, owned by the King of Cheap Stinkers himself, Roger Corman. He served as Ruben's Executive Producer, making sure that not one single dime of his money went to anything even remotely acquainted with excellence.
Folks, I gotta tell ya, the MooCow felt like a clubbed baby seal by the end of this feeble flick, and that's saying something. If pure, undiluted, abject failure is what you seek, search no further than yer local Blockbuster, where they will happily serve you a slice of this rotten turkey - heck, they might even beg you to keep it.
:=8P
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