Nightmare Alley (2010) Starring Vincent Bocchini, Scott Boyd, Tara Carlton, Brian Carr, Christina Chavez & Geno Dellamorte Written & Directed by Scarlet Fry & Laurence Holloway

On the one hand, five bucks for a lady in your lap is a good deal no matter what denomination your currency comes from. On the other hand, a lady in your lap may not be such a smashing notion if said lady ends up leaving behind crabs in said lap.

Similarly, anthology films are cool because they offer multiple tawdry tales for you to sink your teeth into, all for the price (and runtime) of a single motion picture. At the same time, though, quantity does not necessarily equal quality.

Anthology movies tend to cast their nets pretty wide, trying to cover a variety of different themes and subgenres in one fell swoop, with the hope being that, by excelling in excess, they'll be able to appeal to a larger, more diverse audience. If you don't like the zombie story, you might like the vampire story. If you don't like the vampire story, maybe you'll dig the haunted house yarn. Of course, this approach means that, invariably, most anthology movie tales are hit-or-miss. Every anthology flick, whether it be TALES FROM THE CRYPT or TALES FROM THE HOOD, is made up of an uneven smattering of the good, the bad, and the baffling. It's rare to find an anthology movie in which every single story is a dazzling success. It seems like there's always going to be at least one tale you'd rather do without. Then again, if you happen to find at least one tale amidst the bunch that you, conversely, could not do without, well, then, it's my feeling that (and you may disagree with me here), if an anthology movie can do at least that much, hit you in your soft spot with at least one good story, then that, I think, makes up for the other tales which may not have been so (what's the word?)... tolerable.

NIGHTMARE ALLEY, a recent anthology horror picture scheduled for D.V.D. release on August 10, 2010, boasts that it was filmed in "Grind-O-Scope," meaning that it's got the same digitally "damaged" look to it that was made popular by a certain Quentin Tarantino/Robert Rodriguez collaboration from a few years ago. That scuffed n' scratched "retro" look worked well in GRINDHOUSE, but ends up feeling more or less along the lines of distracting and pointless here. Scarlet Fry, whose previous anthology flick, JUNK FOOD HORRORFEST was distributed through Brain Damage Films, oversees this madcap maelstrom of macabre monstrosities, toilet-spawned abominations terrifying less because of their subject matter and more because (a) their quality is dubious, to say the least, (b) someone in their right mind actually dreamt this stuff up, and (c) several other people in their right minds were actually willing to help make these whacked-out fantasies into an equally whacked-out reality.

Playing the part of bottom-dollar Cryptkeeper, Scarlet Fry (who seems to have jacked his look from boob tube horror hosts like Svengoolie, not to mention Lon Chaney's LONDON AFTER MIDNIGHT pseudo-vamp) sits amid a cobbled-together claptrap of Halloween decorations nabbed from a nearby Wal-Mart, rattling off an endless litany of not-terribly-inspired Vincent Price-esque introductions to his so-so spookshow stories.

The movie opens up with two moronic rock n' roll poseurs getting their viscera-tearin' comeuppance after starting shit with a psycho-killer hobo, who stabs a few new breathing holes into one of the numbnuts before pissing on the unfortunate needledick's rotten cadaver. Meanwhile, Dipshit #2 bails, but decides, after seeing his buddy horribly murdered just moments before by a vagrant with a knife, to take a breather, lean up against a dumpster, and flip through the comic book he stole from the aforementioned hobo. Sure enough, it ain't long before his head and his body are divorced from one another. The end.

Okay, not "The End," really. That's just the end of one story. Actually, I'm not even sure if that one counts towards the film's full story count, since it occurs before the opening credits even begin, existing purely for the purpose of whetting our appetites for the carnage we're promised will fill the next 70-odd minutes of NIGHTMARE ALLEY.

If you count that first, untitled tale, NIGHTMARE ALLEY has a grand total of eight stories packed into that measly running time. Even if you don't count that first one, that still leaves seven, which is quite a lot for a movie that barely surpasses an hour runtime. That's right, seven tales in 70-plus minutes. How the filmmakers behind this bad boy could possibly cram seven full-blown horror stories into a single 70-some minute anthology movie boggles the mind. Until you see the movie itself. Once you've actually watched NIGHTMARE ALLEY, it all becomes clear.

The stories are short, simple, and predictable as all get-out. However, that's not to say they don't provide some enjoyment. The first full-blown, post-credits tale, called "A Fistful Of Innards," actually managed to coax a few chuckles out of me based on its title alone.

"Fistful" actually does a decent job as a wild west period piece by keeping wardrobe and props simple and minimalistic, and setting the action in the sun-burnt desert instead of some godawful two-dollar cardboard "saloon" set. This brief yarns concerns a trio of pea-brain Billy The Kid wanna-be's on the run from the law, trekking through the untamed wilderness, when suddenly they stumble upon a radioactive meteorite (which is not only is it the smallest meteorite I've ever seen in my life, but also one that leaves behind the smallest impact crater... ever). Check out the chintzy digital F.X. when the meteor falls to Earth by the way. Dunno 'bout you, but I wasn't sure whether to roll my eyes or laugh out loud.

Thinking the meteorite might be valuable, the lead gunslinger turns on his pals, riddling their bodies with bullets fired from his smokin' six-gun. No sooner are the outlaws dead, however, than they immediately rise from the dead and attack, transformed into voracious flesheating ghouls by the radiation of the meteorite.

In "Rebellion," a ponytailed knucklehead wanders into a hole-in-the-wall gift shop and buys a toy rat (which just so happens to carry with it a satanic curse) from a chow-scarfin', espanol-spittin', faux Mexican chiquita, and soon falls under the malevolent, manipulative thrall of the apparently sentient "Devil Rat," promptly becoming a highway-prowling burnout serial killer, huntin' down hitchhiker honeys, including one bone-worthy goth gal who, I must say, looks positively scrumptious drenched in fake blood. There's not really much to say about this one other than... "what the fuck?!?"

"Rebellion" is gutbustingly nonsensical, and the soul-eating plastic vermin at the center of the tale quickly became my favorite character in the whole movie. Maybe it's just me, but I think that rat deserves his own feature-length spin-off flick! Or a primetime sitcom!!! I can see it now: "Devil Rat & The Douche Bag." A satanic, serial killing riff on The Odd Couple. It'll usher in the return of "Must See T.V." Excelsior!

Next up, we have "Death Chat." When a curvy cutie comes home to find her hillbilly boyfriend porkin' some strange broad, she threatens to blow his ass to kingdom come with a jumbo-sized shotgun, a threat that sadly goes unrealized. After that, the adulterous hick and his police officer pal smoke some doobies, before Cletus The Slack-Jawed Yokel hooks up his ancient 56k connection and goes trollin' for more poontang on the internet (MySpace, to be exact... I shit you not). Sure enough, it ain't long before he starts chattin' away with some mysterious seductress who invites him back to her crib for some salacious good times. Three guesses how this one ends, kiddies, and I'll give you a hint: NIGHTMARE ALLEY ain't a porno flick.

Despite a few delectably trashy touches (kudos to Scarlet Fry and his crypt-hauntin' kin for the scene wherein the two-timin' nimrod regales us with his sodomy-themed reimagining of Rich Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up"), "Death Chat" is mostly boring until the very end (although the axe-swingin', skull-splittin' mayhem we are privy to is much-appreciated).

After that, "Meat" weaves for us a narrative involving a perpetually shirtless fat schmoe who seduces an evidently blind, bikini-clad Bettie Page impersonator, only to get interrupted by the girly's similarly jumbo-sized hubby (maybe she's a chubby chaser) before the carnal festivities can begin. Our portly Don Juan splits, leaving his would-be lovemuffin to suffer the indignity of her spouse's insults. This whole sorry scene ultimately culminates in a rather random (in a bad way) showcase of cannibalism. But, hey, who doesn't like cannibalism?

Rife with lardass nipple-rubbings and some truly obscene (thus truly awesome) ravings from Not-Quite-Bettie's verbally abusive juggernaut husband (who is actually the best actor in the movie), "Meat" shows a lot of promise, but squanders its own potential completely. An ending that is not only abrupt and half-assed but also weak and meaningless, even arbitrary, derails this story in one fell swoop.

In "Closet Case," a pompadour-coiffed psychobilly kid waiting for the bus is propositioned by the most flamboyantly gay fairy this side of Richard Simmons, an experience which causes him to lose his shit and eviscerate the poor queer in short order. Aaaaand that's the whole story.

While the gay guy is easily the second best character in the movie (right behind the Devil Rat from "Rebellion"), the tale itself is easily the single worst thing about NIGHTMARE ALLEY. It isn't just unbelievably short and blatantly pointless, it's also not even remotely interesting, exciting, or amusing. Though some of the gay guy's over-the-top antics brought a smile to my face, that's about where my enjoyment of "Closet Case" both began and ended. It's definitely not funny, this one. If anything, it's disturbing, but not in a good "this is a dark, unsettling horror film" kind of way. More of a "the filmmakers behind this trainwreck clearly have some serious psychological issues" kind of way. To be perfectly frank, "Closet Case" plays out like the vicious, homicidal fantasy of a repulsive, hardcore homophobe. The title of the tale does very little to alleviate that vibe. If the title was meant to imbue the story with an overarching sense of irony, no dice. And the fact that the killer in the tale receives no comeuppances whatsoever only makes matter worse. In fact, the tale ends immediately after the gay guy is dead, as if to say that it was the gay guy who got his comeuppance, fatal punishment for the "crime" of homosexuality. Ugh.

I'm not typically someone who is easily offended, but "Closet Case" bothered me. It's violently homophobic subtext is grossly repellant. Even if no such subtext was intended, it is inferred. Perhaps Scarlet Fry and his cronies would do well to think more deeply about the interpretations that are likely to be gleaned from their stories. Better yet, it would do them well to take some time to investigate the mental origins of this tale, and maybe explore some deep-seated unresolved issues at work within their own minds.

Beyond the tale's atrocious innuendo, the fact that "Closet Case" is also completely devoid of thrills, chills, intrigues, or laughs, offering no entertainment whatsoever (besides the gay guy's antics, of course, which all occur before the full scope of all that is wrong with "Closet Case" comes stumbling into view). Considering the damn thing lasts about three minutes total, I don't even know why the folks behind NIGHTMARE ALLEY bothered to include it in the movie in the first place. If Scarlet Fry and his cohorts had at least a single brain between them, this go-nowhere abomination would've been left on the proverbial cutting room floor. Period.

Following that disastrous misfire, "The Great Damone" focuses on a self-involved painter named (you guessed it!) Damone, who steadfastly pursues his perceived destiny as the next Vincent Van Gogh. When his girlfriend's whining begins to interfere with his dreams, Damone gets the idea in his head that maybe her blood would make a fine addition to his color palette.

If this all sounds rather familiar, that's because this is a scenario horror fans have already seen a hundred times before (not that NIGHTMARE ALLEY's other stories are any less hackneyed, mind you), from the Dick Miller-starring b-movie A BUCKET OF BLOOD to that one episode of Tales From The Crypt with Tim Roth in it (you know the one, the one whose title I, naturally, can't presently remember). Still, the ending of "The Great Damone" is a wee bit bemusing (I especially appreciated the posthumous cameo from Anton LaVey), so I give it points for that. I also give it points for the character of Damone himself, who is something right out of a Looney Tunes short, what with his black beret and snooty French accent. Mostly though, "Damone" is a dud.

As you can see, after "Rebellion," the stories all begin to play out pretty much the same. Things get very repetitive very quickly. The formula: Character #1 has a run-in with Character #2, and one of them kills the other, typically in some gimmicky fashion ("I'll use your blood to paint my masterpiece! Mwahahahahaha!!!") or out of some specific motivation reason that touches upon a larger theme (infidelity is bad, tsk tsk tsk). Borrrring.

With all that redundancy, the final story, "Slash Of The Blade," serves as a breath of fresh air. It's not actually the strongest of the seven (eight?) tales presented to us (although the filmmakers seem to think that it is), but compared to the way-too-similar "Death Chat," "Meat," and "The Great Damone" (not to mention the vile "Closet Case"), "Slash Of The Blade" is a winner, winner, chicken dinner.

"Slash Of The Blade" transports Victorian England's infamous whore-mangler, Jack The Ripper, into the present day. Garbed in the usual top hat and cape-coat combo, the resurrected Saucy Jack makes like Michael Meyers, lumbering about in slow motion, utterly silent, features hidden behind a po-faced mask, gettin' all stabby with the ladies. Sadly, the fact that all The Ripper's stalkings n' slayings take place in the open, in parking lots and alleyways, during broad daylight renders what could have been an enticing (albeit hardly original) bite-sized slasher movie into something laughable at best. The lack of energy displayed in this story is equally damning.

With that, ladies n' gents, we've reached the end. So, when all's said n' done, is NIGHTMARE ALLEY a bad movie? Absolutely. Is it entertaining nevertheless? Hurm. Sometimes.

NIGHTMARE ALLEY seems unsure of whether it would rather try to achieve a classic E.C. comic book vibe, a la' CREEPSHOW, or more of a drive-in exploitation b-movie vibe, a la' GRINDHOUSE, so it tries to do both, resulting in an experience that is pleasantly nostalgia-filled, but a little muddled.

There are no real characters here, just broad, generalized charactertures, the quality of which would be welcome in any Saturday morning cartoon. In keeping with that, the characterizations themselves are more parodic and intentionally funny than anything (exhibit A: the shitkicker cowpokes from "A Fistful Of Innards" and their knee-slapping daft dialogue ["Well suck me sideways!"] ...although, I'm curious, was "puke" a colloquial term in the 1800's?).

Now, this being a horror anthology, twist endings are of paramount importance. Whether it's a tattered old issue of Vault Of Horror or an Amicus motion picture production, twist endings and anthology tales go together like chocolate and peanut butter, cookies and cream, sex and violence. In NIGHTMARE ALLEY, though, you can see the twists comin' a mile away. This definitely isn't the finest work of O. Henry, get my drift? As with most third, fourth, and fifth tier horror anthologies, the tales here aren't all that original. In fact, they aren't even remotely original. Most of them are fairly predictable takes on traditional themes and story archetypes. Having said that, I must also say that the shit that comes before the tired twists is often quite entertaining in a warped "guilty pleasures" kind of way, despite their done-to-death structures, with the picture's entire enjoyability level tied in rather tightly with how bizarre any one particular story is at any given time. The weirder, the better (hence why "Rebellion" is head-and-shoulders above the rest).

The acting, if that's what you want to call it, is dismal, but at least at least some of the players here put forth an earnest effort, even if they all come up woefully short. Meanwhile, there's a decent amount of ooey gooey bargain basement grue for those with a taste for improvised D.I.Y. blood n' guts.

Some of the dialogue is surprisingly hyuk-worthy, such as the aforementioned Devil Rat diatribes of vulgarity and the "Fistful Of Innards" outlaws' dixie-fried retard ramblings. I also liked when the schlub from "Death Chat" claimed to have learned kung-fu from repeat viewings of ENTER THE DRAGON. Not wildly hilarious, but worth a snicker or two.

One serious issue, as previously stated, is how repetitive NIGHTMARE ALLEY feels, especially in the later tales. A little more variation would've gone a long way. A little more effort, y'know, in coming up with slightly better stories. Or, better yet, how about reducing the total amount of stories and putting greater emphasis on expanding and improving those that remain? Personally, I'd like to see someone build on "Rebellion" and "Slash Of The Blade," maybe even make them separate movies unto themselves (with a bit of work toward fixing their unique individual flaws, of course). Like I said at the start of this review, quantity does not necessarily equal quality. I suggest Scarlet Fry and his homies spend a little more time working on the latter, and a little less time worrying about the former.

One big problem with NIGHTMARE ALLEY is just how limited its appeal is. Truth be told, I'm a big fan of the anthology format. Even when the flicks stink, I like getting all that bang for my buck (probably why I've such a weakness for discount price prostitutes as well... the bang I get for my buck... even if my affection for said bang has admittedly led to me being a majority shareholder in such illustrious company products as "Itchy Johnson" brand anti-crab shampoo and "Is She A He?" brand tranny detectors). I also like the way anthology pictures call to mind short story collections, Weird Tales-style pulp magazines, and those pre-C.C.A. horror comics of yesteryear.

On top of that, I'm also a big fan of ultra-sleazy, ultra-cheesy, low budget/no-budget independent microcinema. Exactly the sort of cinema that companies like Brain Damage make their bread and butter (lord knows, if you haven't yet seen TERROR TOONS, you're missing out!). What movies of this sort typically lack in money, originality, acting talent, and convincing F.X. work, they often make up for with oodles n' oodles of raw, unbridled passion, sincerity, genuine love for the horror genre, 42nd Street-esque showmanship, daring drive-in b-movie hucksterism, impolite irreverence, and shocking shovelfuls of garish ghoulishness and outrageous insanity. I love this junk!

In other words, I think I'm pretty much NIGHTMARE ALLEY's exact target audience. And, yet, I was unimpressed. I suspect that many of my peers will be equally unimpressed as well.

It's a given that NIGHTMARE ALLEY's writing, directing, and acting are all sub-par, but the fact that the filmmakers didn't even try to make up for this fact by throwing in more gore, titties, or sleaziness is disheartening. That's not to say there's no sleaze or splatter here at all, because there is (although the complete lack of boobage is a major let-down). There just isn't enough. Not by a long shot.

This is a film that is clearly aware of its own stupidity, and embraces it. I admire that. Unfortunately, NIGHTMARE ALLEY never manages to take that stupidity to another level. It's got zest, but it needs a lot more to flavor if it's to taste truly satisfying. Even the character of Scarlet himself simply does not have anywhere near enough personality. Not to fill the role of "ghost host with the most," I dare say.

The thing is, anthology films are practically a dime a dozen in the microbudget world. So while NIGHTMARE ALLEY is nowhere near the worst, it doesn't have enough to set it apart from the rest o' the pack either. Of the seven (or eight, ...whatever) tales stuffed within its slim 70-odd minute runtime, only "Rebellion" really demands you stand up and take notice, and that's only because of the sheer audacity and active idiocy of the tale in general.

If you're into this sort of thing, give it a rent. Most likely, though, a majority won't have much of any kind of interest in NIGHTMARE ALLEY. I can't rightly blame 'em. I certainly can't recommend this as a "must-see" or "must-own" title for anyone at all. The most valid reason to check NIGHTMARE ALLEY out is little more than curiosity.

This is the kind of movie that some people will like, but most people will hate. All, however, will most likely forget the majority of what they'll see even before the disc has been ejected from the D.V.D. player. My advice? Well, for starters, skip "Closet Case" entirely. See NIGHTMARE ALLEY solely for "Rebellion," then move on to something more worthy of your time. Like TERROR TOONS.

Until next slime...
Stay sick!
Your pickled pal,
William Weird.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 zombie cowboys
Recommendation: rent it
Best moment: every second that the satanic rat is onscreen is absolutely indispensable