Also known as: Terror at Halfday (working title)
Release Date: July, 1965
Directed by: Bill Rebane, Herschell Gordon Lewis (uncredited)
Written by: Sheldon Seymour
Cast: Henry Hite
B.I. & L. Releasing Corp., 68 Minutes
“What you are about to see may not even be possible, within the narrow limits of human understanding.” – Narrator
There are a lot of films that are truly atrocious. This one is worse than that, so I don’t know if there’s a proper adjective to describe it in one word.
This is horrible, even for Mystery Science Theater 3000 episodes. It may be the worst movie featured on that show and that should say a lot in regards to the type of premium schlock MST3K liked to throw at its audience.
I hate this movie. I hate it like a vegan trapped in a Longhorn’s Steakhouse during a zombie apocalypse. I hate it like a cop hates getting a doughnut box full of celery. I hate it like Hillary Clinton hates penis. I hate it like field mice hate owls. I hate it like an astronaut hates being marooned. I hate it like Gene Siskel hated Roger Ebert whenever he always got the upper hand. I hate it like Tom Brady hates solid balls. I hate it like an intelligent person hates Twitter. I hate it like… well, you get the point.
Herschell Gordon Lewis is the only remotely notable person associated with this film. He is uncredited for co-directing this movie. He would go on to make a ton of crappy exploitation films that gorehounds and sexually depraved misfits would cherish for decades. Films like Blood Feast, Two Thousand Maniacs, The Wizard of Gore, The Gore Gore Girls and others. I heard he’s a really nice and cool guy though. If John Waters likes him, he’s probably alright.
The killer in this film looks like the giant from Twin Peaks but with papier-mâché strips crudely placed on his face. He isn’t intimidating or scary, he just looks like a lanky drunk bald guy. He moves really slow but at least we get to see him creep up on some bikini chicks with decent tushies.
This movie gave me a headache. While the MST3K crew made it as tolerable as possible, it was still hard to get through and I’d prefer never to have to sit through this piss sandwich again.
So this most assuredly should be run through the Cinespiria Shitometer, even though there is a risk of breaking the machine with this massive turd. We’ll run it through anyway, as it is still under warranty for another hundred or so shitty films. So the results read, “Type 6 Stool: Fluffy pieces with ragged edges, a mushy stool.”