Shriek of the Mutilated

I'm sorry to say I saw this one back in the 70's at a Drive In.We all laughed at it for months.We tried to determine if it was filmed in someones back yard and what the total budget was.The canniblism aspect was a good spin though.This movie was very good for laughs and comments like " Hey who's idea was it to watch this one?"I think it ranks right up there with Plan 9 ,Microwave Massacre and even Ishtar.Make sure you drink heavily when you watch it.It makes it easier.I do recommend it.Do not spend more than 2 bucks if possible.I would also recommend that you do not watch this one on a first date.Wait till at least the third,and it may even just be your last.

Amateurish, but unrelentingly bizarre horror movie about a group of graduate students who travel to the Pacific Northwest in search of the Abominable Snowman, who ends up looking suspiciously like the Shaggy D.A. Terrible in pretty much every respect, but so weird and unpredictable you can't take your eyes off it. A must-see for bad movie buffs.

In between porno projects, the Findlays found time to dabble in horror like the infamous 1976 release Snuff and their Yeti movie Shriek Of The Mutilated, with Michaeldirecting and editing and Roberta on camera duties. Yet even their non-sexploitation films have a very similar feel - they merely play like porn films without the porn. So prepare yourselves for a frustrating experience - bad library music, bad sets stacked with bad furniture, filled with bad actors with bad haircuts and worse comb-overs yelling the most pointless exposition and wretched dialogue that at best can be described as "florid". I repeat: BAD. And that doesn't begin to describe the joy of how appallingly wonderful the film is.

Shriek... begins with a group of college kids at a party preparing for a field trip set up by their obsessed professor Dr Prell to bag a real-life sasquatch. Amidst the general boogying to that hideous 70s song "Popcorn" and popping corn, an ex-teacher and now janitor grabs a bottle of vodka and goes nuts relating the story of how his last group of students were torn to pieces by an unspeakable abomination. "They said no more field trips!" he spits out, before going home and carving up his girlfriend with an electric knife. Why? She dropped his second bottle of vodka. Nuts, I tells ya.

Undeterred, the kids press on, and wind up at the country estate of Prell's associate Dr Werner, an odd duck in a turtleneck whose interest in Native American folklore extends to employing a Red Indian hatchet manservant named Laughing Crow. Not that Laughing Boy ever cracks a smile, particularly when the kids start getting picked off one by one by what appears to be a car seat cover with plastic Dracula fangs or the first screen appearance of Chewbacca, take your pick. Which thrills Dr Prell no end, as it proves the Yeti exists, and he uses the classmates' bodies as bait, much to the horror of young Karen who screams her disapproval to anyone within earshot: "You're a madman!" and a thousand variations on that theme.

Of course, something more sinister is at work, and the revelation upon revelation in the final ten minutes add up to one of the nuttiest endings I can remember from ANY horror movie, Seventies or otherwise. And that's really saying something. To get to that moment, however, you have to endure some of the most excruciating brow acting from the doctors, two unmitigated hams who are convinced the angle of the eyebrow is in direct correlation to each scene's level of intrigue. Be glad it's NOT one of the Findlays' porn efforts, or you'd see them raise more than an eyebrow.

To cap an extraordinary career, Michael Findlay's death was like a bad B movie ending: on his way to demonstrate his new 3 D camera, he was decapitated by a helicopter's blades (and don't you wish his 3-D camera was rolling at the time). Such is the karmic nature of the Beast. Then again, if he'd made kids films, he would probably have been torn to pieces by homeless alcoholic Santas. In the overall scheme of things, there should be no forgiveness for films like this one - a porno in a boiler suit, a gore film without a money shot, a bad film but still a GREAT bad film.

If you can get past the premise of a killer yeti dwelling in some guy's back yard, this isn't THAT bad of a movie. I think it was well intentioned, but misses it's mark with amusing results. In fact, it has become one of my favorite time wasters. Indeed it has all the markings of a good bad movie, including incredible dialogue, cheesy makeup (the yeti looks like a fluffy half man ape wearing fuzzy cowboy chaps and I believe if you stop frame the scenes, he is wearing white tennis shoes!). All this combined with the most gullible group of college students in film (all right, one of the most gullible). The closing "breakfast" scene offers some genuine creeps. Watch for scenes changing from day to night and sunny to rainy and then back again! Cult material deluxe. Watch this with your favorite beverage and ENJOY!

In college a buddy of mine came in with a tape of what he claimed was the worst movie ever committed to celluloid, or whatever they had been using in 1974. We asked him why we'd want to watch something like that, and he replied that part of it had been filmed on campus! It was a Saturday night with class out of session, so with nothing to go along with the sizable supply of beer we had in the fridge, we said why not.

All you need to know about the movie: 1) A fight with a Yeti in a snowstorm is actually the negative of the print. 2) The Yeti wears tennis shoes. 3) The mute Indian looks more Italian than Al Pacino. 4) The Yeti runs down a long warehouse aisle to a loading dock to attack one of the students in the middle of the woods, then cuts to the actual attack, where he falls like he'd been pushed over.

This movie cried out for the MST3K treatment, but alas, it was not to be.