Thursday, September 10, 2015

I EAT YOUR SKIN

I Eat Your Skin Movie Review

Cancer research on a remote island (Voodoo Island, to be exact) goes wrong, leading to an army of zombie-esque people terrorizing writer Tom Harris (William Joyce) and his posse. This black and white horror film from 1964, strangely enough, starts off as a slapstick comedy--and fails miserably at being even remotely funny. If you can manage to get past that part of the film--well, it doesn't get much better. Harris is a really unlikable character--honestly, why some filmmakers make their hero so despicable baffles me. We, the viewer, are supposed to have a hero we can get behind and cheer to victory, not one we wish would die every time he opens his mouth. Once we get past this we are treated to...lots of dancing.

Boogie

Joining Harris are his publisher Duncan Fairchild (Dan Stapleton), Duncan's wife Coral (Betty Hyatt Linton), and love interest Jeannie Biladeau (Heather Hewitt), the daughter of Dr. Bildeau (Robert Stanton). Duncan is almost as unlikable as Harris, the good Doctor is played by possibly the worst actor of the bunch (and that's really saying something), and Linton possesses what has to be considered one of the most ear piercing, fingernails on a chalkboard voices to ever leave a human mouth. The only redeeming quality of any of this cast is Hewitt--she's at least a pretty face.

Unlike this guy

 So the plot is absolute nonsense, the acting is dreadful, the fight scenes are practically in slow motion, and, despite the title of the film, there is no eating of skin of any sort--or any other blood or gore for that matter (there is a decapitation scene, but it looks more like a basketball falling off a mannequin than anything real). Whenever I watch films from this era I always wonder what happened around this time to make people so scared of tribes from the deepest, darkest parts of the jungle--there are SO many movies with them as the villains. Other than the weird enjoyment I get out of pondering that question, I also enjoyed the scratchy presentation of the film, the demise of the plane scene (and how the men seemed to forget about the women entirely), and the run time of just 84 minutes.

On A Scale Of One To Ten: 3


 
I Eat Your Skin--Elvira Style

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