After travelling to a remote village for a weekend of drunken debauchery and male bonding, a group of friends come under attack from the women of the village, who have turned into bloodthirsty cannibals as the result of a top-secret biological warfare experiment carried out by the army.
Those looking for a stylish slice of quirky Brit comedy/horror in the vein of Shaun of the Dead, be warned: Jake West's Doghouse is aimed squarely at the lad-mag reading, post-footy, post-pub, post-curry crowd, and as such, the level of sophistication is not exactly high. Don't expect clever word-play, irony, post-modernism, surrealism, or satire; do expect tit jokes, loads of swearing, mindless violence, and puerile gags about shagging zombies, all of which could have been tons of fun, if only the film's characters hadn't been such an unlikable bunch of 'blokes' (fully deserving of everything they get), and director Jake West hadn't forgotten to develop his plot beyond a repetitive string of silly chase scenes and gory battles.
Although Doghouse is far from the worst British film in recent years to attempt combining laughs with scares (that honour goes to the abysmal Lesbian Vampire Killers, closely followed by The Cottage), I really was expecting a lot more from the director of zany splatterfest Evil Aliens, which I thoroughly enjoyed. The basic premise—a blood-drenched battle of the sexes—is an interesting variation on the standard zombie plot, the design and execution of the female creatures is impressive (each has its own distinctive look and personality), and the gore is well executed; but with the comedy being so moronic, the narrative rapidly going nowhere, and not one sympathetic person to root for, Doghouse is definitely something of a disappointment.
