Sunburst

Probably the only reason this amateur hour snoozefest isn't on the IMDb Bottom 100 list is that almost no one has seen it. If they had, it would have easily surpassed "Manos: The Hands of Fate" and "Baby Geniuses 2" as the most excruciating home movie ever. In fact, "Manos" now looks like a profound work of art in comparison, and perhaps deserves a reevaluation.

There's almost no way to describe the incredible badness of "Slashed Dreams"/"Sunburst." It goes way beyond the Mystery Science Theater 3000 level... and of course never comes close to hitting that so-bad-it's-funny, level -- just goes on and on in an early '70s, 16mm Ektachrome so-bad-it's-painful mode. Like a couple of high school kids went out in the woods with a camera. But a couple of high school kids with prefrontal lobotomies. We're taking no story here. No pace. No connection to reality and no idea how a film is actually made... however they did manage to obey every single Stupid Rule of horror films ever invented: kids go into woods, kids are threatened by maniacs, kids don't even CONSIDER leaving woods -- check. Girl is raped by maniacs, guy does absolutely nothing, and then they STILL don't even consider leaving woods -- check.

And in the middle of this lobotomized "Deliverance"/"Easy Rider"/"Last House on the Left" hybrid with a "Friday the 13th" poster, who shows up but of course, Rudy Vallee. Yes folks, Rudy Vallee. Just made sense I guess for the legendary 1920s jazz crooner to be included in a home movie thriller about a woman being raped by inbred hillbillies. All the sense in the world.

But far worse than Anything Else is the screeching, shrew-like banshee wail of some Joan Baez wannabe plastered over the home movie footage every ten minutes or so in order to convey the Tragic and Sensitive Nature of this very Profound and Serious Film about Rape.

Nurse, please hand me the leucotome. And welcome to hell.

Some say that this film may have inspired Wes Craven and Last House on the Left. It is a similar story, but "rapists in the woods" is not an original concept, and it Craven's film was made three years before this, so it may be the other way around.

It was the second film for Robert Englund, better known for his role as Freddy Krueger. Here is a a good and happy man living as a hermit in the woods. He is fondly remembered by two students, Jenny (Kathrine Baumann) and Robert (Peter Hooten) who set out to find him.

The film is slow to form, much of it a happy romp in the woods, and the music is continually upbeat and happy. A sign of of impending doom? Ed Bogas did all thee music. He is best know for the music for Garfield and Peanuts, and before that Fritz the Cat and Heavy Traffic.

Finally, Levon (James Keach) and Danker (David Pritchard) show. They look like a pair out of Deliverance. Nothing happens at first.

When they come back, they rape Jenny. There is nothing to see.

Michael (Englund) shows up the next day. He tries to comfort Jenny, and then he is gone again.

No real satisfaction, and Robert and Jenny go off into the sunset.

After dumping her jerk of a boyfriend, beautiful student Jenny (Kathrine Baumann) and her old friend Robert (Peter Hooten) decide to pay a visit to pal Michael (Robert Englund), who has 'dropped out' to live in a remote cabin in the mountains. The trip sees Jenny and Robert taking their relationship beyond being just good friends; unfortunately, the couple run into a pair of hillbilly rapists - Levon (James Keach) and Danker (David Pritchard) - who spoil the mood by beating Robert unconscious and attacking Jenny.

Following Deliverance and The Last House on the Left (but predating I Spit on Your Grave by three years), I expected Sunburst (AKA Slashed Dreams) to be a gritty backwoods rape/revenge movie, with Robert, Michael and Jenny using extreme violence to settle the score with Levon and Danker. But while Robert does attack the rapists in a fit of rage, the rednecks escape retribution, scurrying off into the woods before any real harm is done to them. Instead of 'an eye for an eye', the film's message appears to be 'don't dwell on the bad things in life', Jenny's eventual acceptance/dismissal of what has happened allowing her to move on.

It's well past the halfway mark before the hillbillies show up, with way too much time wasted on Jenny and Robert driving to the mountains and then hiking through the woods, the most exciting moment being when a bear eats their food. When the young couple decide to go skinny dipping, we get some welcome nudity from Baumann, but up to that point, the film is a real test of one's patience. The arrival of Danker and Levon adds a little tension, but the rape scene, when it happens, is fumbled by director James Polakof, who seems reluctant to disturb or offend the viewer, and everything that follows feels even more lacklustre. Englund - probably the main reason people will seek this film out these days - has very little screen-time and his character is a total wet blanket.

But the worst thing about the film isn't the crap ending or the dreadful pacing, but the soundtrack - a series of awful new-age folk songs by some flower child who mistakenly thinks that she is Joan Baez.

3/10.

N. B. The film's alternative title - Slashed Dreams - has got to be a desperate attempt to cash in on Englund's fame as Freddy Krueger.

I can now add this worthless thing to my worst 10 movies. It is about as thoughtless and ill conceived as anything put to celluloid. The plot and the motivations are bad enough. But there are so many distractions, I couldn't believe it. First, what's with the old gang. What about the young hothead boyfriend? Shouldn't he have shown up somewhere in all of this? Why even have him get into a confrontation with the lead. Then there's the guy they're going to see. It's Freddy Krueger, playing a nice guy who spouts philosophy. He's some skinny dork who went to the woods. What about the bad guys. How do you know, "We'll never see them again"? Shouldn't someone report the rape and get after those guys. After being accosted by the two, shouldn't someone's guard have been up a bit, just a little bit? How can one analyze something so idiotic? Suffice it to say, this isn't even campy funny. I think a good conclusion would have been an enormous meteor landing on the entire bunch. Oh. I forgot Rudy Valee. What the hell is he doing there?

Filmed in 1975 as "Sunburst" until it was released on VHS in the eighties retitled "Slashed Dreams" to take advantage of Robert Englund's popularity during the "Nightmare on Elm Street" craze, this seventy-four minute exercise in hiking and rape is an absolute waste of film and can't even be saved by the curvaceous Kathrine Baumann's wasted nude scenes. Written by Stacy Keach's brother James, who will always be Deputy Halik from "Moving Violations" to me, "Slashed Dreams" is about two life long friends, Jenny and Robert, who go hiking into the wilderness of Northern California to visit their mutual friend Michael played by Robert Englund who doesn't show himself until the final twenty minutes of the film. Why going to see Michael is so important to Jenny and Robert is never explained only that Jenny really wants to see him. Fair enough. The first forty-five minutes consists of the two traveling north and hiking through the woods. Sound like fun? It isn't. Nothing significant happens at all so why film any of this? While Jenny and Robert go skinny dipping they are spied on by two token hillbilly mountain boys Danker and writer/actor James Keach as Levon. Once the pair set their sites on Jenny's pair, well, what do you think goes through their minds? Later that night they return to rape Jenny. Enter Michael who says little and provides next to nothing as far as support except for some hippie rambling about "driving the devil out of your house". Way to counsel Freddy Krueger. Robert tries to redeem himself by fighting the rapists but, no shock here, he doesn't succeed. Afterwards Jenny comes to the realization that all is well. End of movie. What?

If this summary doesn't stop you from watching this mess than let me deliver the dagger to your heart in the form of Roberta Van Dere. Who is she you ask? She's responsible for singing all of the songs on the soundtrack and by singing I mean tone deaf caterwauling that is so annoying that I attempted to drive pencils into my ear canals. Her singing is so bad it defies belief that someone listened to her and said "you should do this professionally". Every song sounds exactly the same even her inappropriate howling following Jenny's rape. A cat thrown into a dryer would have sounded better than her. Do yourself a favor a leaf through and old Reader's Digest rather than waste your time on this crap.