Predators from Beyond Neptune

A film in the tradition of Spinal Tap, And God Spoke, and Living in Oblivion this film has a decidedly hard edge that those others dared not approach. Scott Mabbutt is an exciting new film maker trying to excise through film as many demons as a Tim Burton or a David Lynch. His is a fluidic style that reflects the same sensibilities of a late-career Spielberg or an early career Scorsesse. Most impressive was the ease with which Mabbutt moved his story and cast (led by the stunning Leslie Miller) from dark satire to humor to the very brink of homo-eroticism. If this film were a video on MTV's TRL the kids would say the following: "It is the big pimpin' bomb digity of all time and it should be number one forever WUUU!" Yes, young people of today, Wuuu indeed! Wuuu indeed.

This is the most unique film I've seen in a long time. This film obviously didn't have a very big budget, but the amount of stars and producers, etc. that make cameos is amazing. Very smart and very funny. The character of the screenwriter, Barton, nails his performance as a high-strung Hollywood writer. Also good performances by King Wilder and Ashley Hill.

After having received an excellent recommendation from my "movie guru" friend, Warren, who has seen this movie a countless number of times, and thus possibly is the all-time lord and master of this movie, delving into every crack and crevice this succulent cinema has to offer, I decided to kick back, grab a bowl of my favorite "Ricardo's Rude Ranch" Chili, and really sink my teeth into a timeless cult classic such as Casablanca, The Sound of Music, or, in this case, Predators from Beyond Neptune.

So after I put on my 3-D glasses (which I later learned were completely useless for the viewing of this movie.. I just like to wear them, although it sometimes weirds out Warren) I clenched onto my plush, leather Relax-o-Matic reclining armchair, and got ready for the RIDE OF MY LIFE.

After the first few action-packed cut-scenes that send you careening into a pulse-quickening spiral of complete and utter entrancement... it took me through a serious of tortuous twists and a quandary of quagmires, I could only describe the experience in one, genius, hyphenated word: mind-numbing.

So basically, after downing that chili I mentioned earlier, and covering my right eye so I could see the movie slightly better through the reddish tint of my left 3-D glass lens, I saw a bunch of what I like to call, "Masters of Mayhem" duke it out on the bigscreen, I became stunned and surprised, stupefied and stridulated. I think I can use the word "stridulated" to describe this experience, but I never really bothered to look it up. By "stridulated", I mean something like the other words all starting with "s" that I used before. Okay... so back to the movie...

The ending was barbaric and morbidly horrific, in that saddening, deeply touching sort of way that only movies of this caliber can pack. By the denouement, I was left in tears, as the Predators from Neptune actually were from Pluto! I tried to stifle my embarrassing sobs, and as chunks of "Ricardo's Rude Ranch" Chili began to erupt in vociferous bursts from my nostrils (I sneakily used Warren's tennis shirt I borrowed a few days ago to clean off this bean sauce), I emerged from the movie more wiser and enlightened... a better man.

In conclusion, this movie was, for the most part, the turning point of my life. Before viewing this classic, I was a wreck who never finished anything I started in life, but by the end, I had resolve.. I sensed a newfound purpose to my life... to review "diamond in the rough" type movies like these, and allow their untapped glory to shine on readers like you. Thank you.

10/10 !!! (the part about the alien boogers mutating was kind of weird, but the plot held together well enough to forgive this minor detraction)

What would you get if Woody Allen and Ed Wood somehow had a child? You may get a child called Woody Wood or you may get Writer/Director Scott Mabbutt. Predators from Beyond Neptune is the independent filmmakers "Sunset Blvd." I cannot think of any films of late that truly captures the madness of guerrilla production. With a very large tongue place deep into cheek P.F.B.N. shows even the most jaded Hollywood filmmaker that there is still much to laugh at. Mainly themselves. This is a terrific ensemble film. Like an absinthe vision the characters reveal themselves and melt into the story. The world of P.F.B.N. is so twisted with detail that it is sometimes hard to believe these people do not exist. Make sure you check out the vodka soaked directors commentary!

Its a hoot! Hail Groppo!!!!!!! Brian Patrick