Monday, October 27, 2008


On the twenty-seventh day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twenty-seven of a thousand wrestling moves!


The Obvious Reference Saloon, a walking pair of boobs with hair that says stuff occasionally, a Lucha-loving Hugo, a runway model from Auschwitz, Syd Mead's instantly repulsive misogynist, Don Knotts and Tim Conway's nemesis, the most flexible Final Girl ever, a tubby battle for the ages, El Numero Uno Luchadore Chingon en El Mundo Menos Mi, and the greatest movie in the history of our sport.

More details here.


A van carrying an asshole filmmaker, a chubby cameraman, a pothead surfer, a passed-out drunk chick, and two whorish hotties treks through the wastelands of Baja Mexico. They are on their way to film a porno in Cabo San Lucas but get side-tracked and wind up in a spooky old Mexican town called “Sangre de Dios” which translates to Sugar of Ronnie James Dio. Or Blood of Christ, I forget which. The town bears a legend which fatty knows by heart: it is the rumored resting place of the greatest Mexican wrestler (ahem) of all time, El Mascarado. El M was a killer pro wrestler in the 60s who butchered his opponents with his bare hands and became an unstoppable killing machine. Hmph, stiff workers. The authorities couldn't control him, doctors couldn't cure him, and Vince McMahon was too young to sign him to the WWE where he'd be buried in the midcard and eventually kill himself with booze and drugs. So they banished him to the town of Sangre de Dios where his peace is now disturbed by these meddling pornographers. Mascarado offs them one by one and teaches them the real meaning of hardcore. And no amount of prayers or vitamins will save them. The surviving member of the group, the leggy Leyla Milani, faces the ultimate main event in which her soul will be driven to the raw, extreme limits in this nitro-fueled, thunder-clapped smackdown of heat, havoc, and T&A.


I'd be remiss and kicked out of the Lucha Union if I didn't review at least one Mexican-wrestler themed horror movie in this year's 31 Days of Halloween, including this utter masterpiece of bone-breaking horror. Also known as El Mascarado Massacre, Wrestlemaniac is to my knowledge the world's first lucha-libre inspired slasher, and brother it's a unrelenting, pulse-pounding scarefest and possibly the best slasher in years. This movie took my complacency to the mat and pinned me down for the three-count. The laughs and scares come at you like flaming volleys from a cannon of nightmares. The cast is pitch-perfect, including Milani as the competent and extremely skilled heroine. She's more than just an awesome body and bushel of Jose Eber-fluffed hair. The script provides an insight into the rich culture of our neighbors to the south and deftly reveals psychological insights such as the plight of growing up different as exemplified by the portly wrestling fan played by the fat guy. Legendary wrestler Rey Misterio, father of WWE superstar Rey Misterio Jr., is the new horror icon El Mascarado, a looming, fearsome presence unparalled since Glen Jacobs. Director Jesse Baget could become the next big thing if he can keep making incredible, well-made, not-annoying films such as Wrestlemaniac, American horror's biggest and brightest surprise yet.

And now you see, sometimes film criticism can be faker than wrestling.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

So is this movie better than anything The Rock has done? My guess is probably.