beanz meanz hinz(man).

Day 21 of the whole 31 days of horror thing and I've not given up yet - or gotten any new readers but hey ho I've gotten to a point where I honestly don't care.

A wee bit like the folk behind todays movie.
 

Flesh Eater (AKA Zombie Nosh, Revenge of the Living Zombies. 1988).
Dir: Bill Hinzman. 
Cast : Bill Hinzman, John Mowod, Leslie Ann Wick, Lisa Smith, the local job seekers club and some tramps.

Well excuse me boss, I must've come up here with the wrong impression, I thought we were here to have fun!

Welcome to Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania in the good ol' (and by the look of it freezing centre of) US of A where a rag tag bunch of red-necked (and red faced) 'teenagers' are having a fun filled weekend wobbling about on the back of a tractor.

That's not all they have in mind tho' as their good times don't just end with a ride on some filthy farmyard machinery, you see they plan to spend the night in the woods getting drunk and 'making out'.

Whilst all these teen shenanigans are going on the local farmer Barney Moe has noticed that a huge hole has appeared in one of his fields, luckily for us (and the plot) he's not from Norfolk so doesn't try to fuck it but instead he has a little dig around and uncovers a rather unconvincing paper-mache stone with a scary inscription:

Beware! The bin men!

Upon further inspection our frightened farmer finds something much more terrifying, yup it's that bloke from the start of Night of The Living Dead still wearing the same threadbare suit and a coating of talc lying in the hole up to his elbows in mud.

Ladies and gentlemen please welcome Mr. Bill (my illustrious acting career) Hinzman!

But before Moe can ask how or why (or even to get his Alpha VHS signed) Hinzman has popped out of the ground and popped his teeth into the farmers neck.

Ouch.

Losing acting ability as quickly as he's losing blood our hapless chap falls woodenly (and quite carefully) to the ground shaking like an epileptic in a fridge.

Meanwhile a few miles away the teenage dirtbags, oblivious to all this naughty neck nibbling are indeed busying themselves getting drunk and, most disturbingly attempting to shag each other.

Yes indeed, the movie gives us a rare opportunity to watch two real and very camera conscious teenagers awkwardly making out in blindingly lit, acne revealing close-up.

You can almost imagine director Hinzman, one hand on the zoom button and one down his trousers shouting "Touch her titties!" from just off screen as the pair  clumsily go thru' the motions, the boy praying that the girls bra strap doesn't stick for fear of Hinzman giving him a kicking.

Or a sickly hicky.

"Blood in mah mooth!"

Thankfully, Hinzman soon jumps in front of the camera and proceeds to put the zit-faced teens (and us) out of their misery via a rusty pitchfork thru' the chest and a rubber heart removal cum breast fondle before stumbling off  to menace the rest of the cast, each victim rising from the grave as a member of the undead.

Either that or they're all high on crack or cheap cider.

It's probably a good time to point out that the subtle tit touch from Hinzman doesn't appear to be at all accidental seeing as at any point during the movie whenever a female is called upon to be attacked it's our erstwhile director doing the biting, invariably squeezing one of her breasts as he does it.

It's almost as if it were planned this way so as to give him a chance to get his sweaty sausage fingers on some young virginal flesh.

Or maybe I'm just pissed of that I never thought of it first.

Either way before long there are at least a dozen (OK I'm being kind) of the undead (some with ladybreasts some without) wandering aimlessly around the forest in search of a half decent script whilst the surviving (non molested) teens decide to barricade themselves in a dilapidated farmhouse much like that other Bill Hinzman zombie movie*.

That reminds me, the gammon in the fridge has gone off.

Obviously the zombies have seen it tho' and decide to attack before the refurbishments are finished, eating all of the main cast except for the two leads (no doubt the directors daughter and her boyfriend), leaving them with no choice but to run away in the hope of extending the movies running time to a full 90 minutes.

Not too surprisingly the undead give chase.

Fairly slowly obviously but it's the thought that counts.


At this point the film degenerates into a tourist guide to the woods and hedgerows of Beaver Falls (with added random murders and nudity) before showing off the interior design of the sound guys house (complete with nude babysitter) and finally showing us how the locals spend their weekends by climaxing with a barn-based fancy dress party.

Which not too surprisingly Hinzman and his zombie buddies soon turn into a blood bath, possibly because the revelers fancy dress outfits were a lot more impressive than the movies actual make-up.

Shockingly for the amount of females present there's precious little tittie touching in this scene but big bad Bill does manage to grope a teenage cheerleaders ample arse as she tries to escape up a ladder so that's OK then.

"Put it in me!"

This extreme form of trick or treating (well it is Halloween night) continues unabated for what seems like several days before the local police and fire department, aided and abetted by a group of gun crazed locals finally turn up and kill everything before setting fire to a farm and, in a scene totally unlike the end of NOTLD accidentally kill the surviving teens with a bullet to the head and a nail in the coffin of independent film making.

Flesh Eater on Bluray?...Isn't that a wee bit like making Ridley Scott reshoot Alien with the lights on?

 Mumbling, bumbling and drunkenly stumbling across the screen like an Alzheimer's riddled drunken uncle, William Hinzman shows himself to be the original one-trick convention guest with this threadbare vanity project designed for the sole reason of playing on his 'fame' as the cemetery zombie, a role he also returned to in John Russo's abysmal NOTLD anniversary edition and no doubt various supermarket, envelope and eyelid openings.

"I'm sorry, I have my woman's period".

Whilst there's nowt wrong with the fella making a few bob off the back off a fleeting appearance in a hit movie (just check the guest list for any Collectormania event) there's something not right in seeing the source of that fame dragged out and violently buggered in front of you.

Which is effectively what Hinzman attempts to do to Night in this truly abhorrent tribute cum sequel.

Shot with all the skill of John Hinckley Jr. from a script consisting of a series of random ideas hastily scribbled on the back of a used tissue and acted out by a collection of Ikea furniture, Flesh Eater brings nothing to the undead table except the idea that middle-aged zombies adore teen tits.

"Little Mix number one for Christmas...MONSTA!"

No budget, no imagination and no mercy, Flesh Eater by it's very nature is a must see movie if for no other reason than to show that George Romero was indeed the talented one behind Night of The Living Dead despite what Hinzman and John Russo might have you believe.

Oh and the fact that it makes the Netflix Resident Evil series almost watchable.

Tomorrow something better.

I promise.