THE HALLOWEEN THAT ALMOST WASN’T (1979)

I can vividly recall that particular week before Halloween 1979, when I missed a week of 5th grade due to the flu.  My fever was so high at times that I began to hallucinate, including once when during NBC’s airing of The Three Caballeros when Donald Duck, Jose Carioca, and Panchito Pistolas popped out of the TV screen and merrily danced away sweaty, Vicks-smothered minutes to my death right in the living room.  Another time was during the only episode of Project U.F.O. where they couldn’t scientifically explain the flying saucer sighting.  No one remembers that episode or that show so I must conclude that it was some Mark VII-produced fever dream.  I must have also sickly imagined a TV movie starring Judd “Taxi” Hirsch and that nice lady from the Polaroid commercials as Dracula and a hideous witch, who had to join forces to save Halloween, return happiness to poorly dressed children, and sell lots of fucking candy corn.  Years later, the Goodwill Video Store of the Internet confirmed that it wasn’t a Robitussin-soaked delusion at all but rather an actual ABC live action Halloween special called The Halloween That Almost Wasn’t!

The memories flooding back are making me woozy.

Our story begins with Count Dracula (Hirsch) awakened by Igor (Gibson) to view a breaking news story about the rumor that Halloween is about to be canceled, perhaps forever!

If it wasn’t reported on the Mustache News Network, it didn’t happen.

This scene begs the question: since when does Igor answer to Dracula? What happened to Renfield?  (Please don't refer me to the novel.  Just don't.) Was there some leveraged buyout of Dr. Frankenstein’s employee pool that’s never been reported? Anyway, judging from Hirsch’s bugged-out camping, maybe this story takes place in the Bela Lugosi Dracula continuity where the Frankenstein universe does indeed interact with Drac, so there’s that.

"I don’t drink vine, or know Tony Danza’s home number."

Meanwhile, a nearby family also hears the news that there may be no trick-or-treating this year. Mom and Dad nonchalantly drop trivial tidbits about the pagan history of Halloween and its many traditions and rituals rooted in harvest lore and myth in the hopes it may calm the kids down or qualify this show as educational.  

Not pictured: Michael Myers tapping at the front window.

Cut back to Transylvania…

Or Tarrytown, NY

Dracula calls upon all the monstrous icons of Halloween to gather in the castle to come up with a solution to the holiday problem, which has just reached Threat Level Pumpkin.  First up is Warren the Werewolf (Riley).

Warren's name is a tip of the furry hat to Warren Zevon

Next, Zabaar The Zombie (Elic) who is either the King of the Undead or the King of East Coast Delis.

Brain Guy?!!!

The Mummy (Fitch) emerges from his geometrical crypt to offer sage tactical advice or provide a cheap alternative to toilet paper.

“Where’s that Brendan Fraser son-of-a-bitch?!”

And lastly is Frankenstein’s Creature, who based on a then-recent Mel Brooks interpretation is obsessed with singing and dancing terribly.

Yep, ready for X-Factor.

Mysteriously missing from this monstrous summit is The Witch.  Her absence makes Frankenstein’s Creature howl a few bars from La Boheme.  

Or maybe it was Christina Aguilera. 

When the Witch finally shows up she admits to being behind the rumors to end Halloween, and blackmails Dracula to give up his post as leader of the monsters else she won’t make her annual flight over the moon that kicks off the holiday.  She makes a list of demands which include more control over merchandising and better working conditions. 

And lots and lots of Noxema.  LOTS.

Dracula refuses to give up any power and dismisses her demands.  She then admits that she wasn’t interested anyway and that she’s just tired of being ugly and wants Halloween to take a hike.  She escapes to her castle where Dracula orders the monsters to attack.  Their initial attempt fails miserably.

Igor goes both ways: dead and undead.

Ultimately, the tired, clumsy, and unorganized monster-oppressors and the greedy one-percenter aristocrat Dracula are unable to match The Witch’s newfound liberal radicalism, self-empowered will to take back her body and image from cooptation, and progressive feminist socialism.  

#OCCUPYHALLOWEEN!

Plus, she unleashes The Three Musketeers to swash their blades on some monster butt.

We ain’t shit without Paul W.S. Anderson.

Drac loses his shit.  The battle is lost. The monsters are sad.

“Well, I guess it’s back to serving Dick Cheney in Hell.”

But in the end the Witch’s cold heart is warmed by the kids from before who squirt a few tears and beg Witch to ditch her beliefs and forsake herself to the patriarchal corporate oligarchy.

“I give up.  But you kids are getting eaten later!  OK?”

So Witch flies over the moon and Halloween is saved! Um, somehow.

“I’m personally gonna crap on every one of you down there! HEEHEEHEE!!!”

And in the end, the message is all conflict can be resolved (YET AGAIN) by disco dancing!

Deep down, I truly wish this was a delirious childhood memory.

So there you have it – The Halloween That Almost Wasn’t, an almost forgotten relic of 70s children’s TV. Now I know that nine-year-old Tremendito wasn’t crazed by brain heat.  Actually, the special ran for years on the Disney Channel’s Halloween slate of specials during the 80s and 90s and was released on video as The Night Dracula Saved the World, which is really messed up because The Witch was the real radical hero (even though she buckled under to the system in the end) and Dracula did nothing but look constipated.

“I vant to dreenk your prune juice!”

THE CARD:

Judd “Camp Count” Hirsch, Mariette “” Hartley, Henry “In Between Altmans” Gibson, Jack “Kill Dr. Hartley” Riley, John “Supreme That Guy” Schuck, Josip “Conquered Santa” Elic. 

You can watch the whole damn thing here.

VISITING HOURS (1982)

THE CARD:

Lee “Sally Messy Raphael” Grant, William “Pronounces it ‘Shah-tner’” Shatner, Michael “Deadside Manner” Ironside, Linda “Ritchie Cunningham’s Squeeze” Purl, and Lenore “My Future’s in Voice Work” Zann.

More details here. 

THE ANGLE:

Deborah Ballin (Grant) is a TV talk show host whose vehement defense of battered women and staunch anti-violence platform breeds controversy.  Her producer Gary (Shatner) has to stand up for her often but lacks the spine to deal with her volatile, non-Vulcan temper.  After a particularly contentious interview, she returns home to discover someone has broken into her home and murdered her maid.  

“And I’ve been picked up by FOX?!!”

The naked intruder attacks and slashes her arms but she is able to escape in a dumb waiter.  Rescued by a neighbor, Deborah is taken to the nearby county hospital.  We learn that the attacker is a sadistic, disgruntled viewer with a particular hatred of the media, minorities, and women.

Also, fashion.

The disturbed assailant is Colt (Ironside) works as an overnight custodian at Deborah’s studio. In his spare time he writes threats to judges and other public figures and hangs the letters on his wall like trophies.  He has killed before, preying mostly on older women whom he photographs and then creates a clip-out montage of their dying faces.

I prefer skull mosaics made of happy turtles.

He is troubled by memories of abuse by his disfigured alcoholic father who now mentally deteriorates in a nursing home, scarred by grease in a fight with Colt's mother long ago. His murderous fetish of choice is a trusty switchblade that covets like a body part. He seduces and abuses runaways yet is desired by crazy old ladies and lonely waitresses whom he openly despises.  And worst of all, his apartment is really untidy.

Actually, the director’s office after the last day of shooting.

Meanwhile, Deborah is going batty with fear in the hospital but Gary is right at her side.

Movie Kirk hair and tapioca heal the pain.

Colt infiltrates the hospital to finish the job on Deborah.  He takes out a few old broads, an orderly or two, and some chubby mouthy nurse who likes to openly rank her lovers on a scale of 1 to 10.  

“OK, OK! You’re a 7!!!”

When spunky nurse and single mother Sheila (Purl) witnesses Colt’s dastardly deeds, she’s brutally attacked but manages to get away.  She goes home where the threat of the madman’s return haunts her front door.  Fortunately she has a recently showered partner to comfort her. 

Things just got really interesting.

Meanwhile, Colt seems to get nuttier and goofier and more off the deep end in his obsession to kill Deborah.  We finally learn that the lynchpin to his trip to Cuckoo Farms on Mixed Metaphor Road was Deborah’s vigorous advocacy of a woman who killed her husband in self-defense which elicited upsetting memories and sweaty over-acting in him.  Colt continues to stalk Deborah, Sheila, vengeful runaway Lisa (Zann) and nothing from inept Canadian Mounties to Shatner’s shoulder thrust to a strongly worded doctor’s note will stop him!

Gah! Another elevator killer!

THE FINISHER:

Marketed as a medical horror show (I still remember the movie’s distressing video box residing in my do-not-rent nightmares as a kid), Visiting Hours is more a psychological thriller repackaged to compete in the slasher movie glut of the early 80s. Aspiring at times to become a Canadian giallo with its pseudo-Goblin soundtrack, bizarrely ugly sexuality, and the killer’s phallic switchblade, the movie is nonetheless a complete drag with slow pacing, disinterested main actors (though Shatner is all-pro), and a total lack of atmosphere for scares.  Unlike its contemporary horror flicks, the movie is void of dread and suspense; we don’t fear that the murderer could strike at any time.  That’s because we see the killer, we follow him around, we know his every move and motivation.  We’d follow him into the toilet if that explained his crazy, for crying out loud.  That said, Ironside does bring a whole mental ward of madness to the role of Colt.  He’s is scintillatingly creepy, even today an underrated visceral actor who makes every B-picture feel like an A.  But in the end, Visiting Hours overstays its welcome.  Plus there’s no Dr. Giggles, The Dentist, or hell even a Nurse Ratched!  What the hell, man?

THE LIFT (1983)

THE CARD:

Huub “The One Guy” Stapel, Willeke "The One Gal" van Ammelrooy, and um, more Dutch people than a Vermeer print fire sale. 

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

An office building in the Netherlands is home to the Restaurant Icarus atop its penthouse floor.  One night, four obnoxious drunks narrowly suffocate to death in an elevator after a night of shooting back gin and obsessing about crops.  Dutch oven joke should go here. Said elevator became trapped in between floors and did not respond to controls and appeared to be under the influence of an unknown power.  Baffled by the near fatal accident, the building staff consults elevator repairman Felix (Stapel) to fix the problem.

Searching for things that go BING! in the night.

Despite double and triple-checking, the elevators continue to malfunction, taking victims in myriad horrific ways. 

Well, mostly one way.

While the staff engages in various sexual hijinks and Felix becomes obsessed with the case and increasingly detached from his wife and family, the elevator continues its massacre with zero discretion. 

The vile elevators’ victims include old guys, kids, and very rude floor cleaners.

With the help of a female journalist (van Ammelrooy), Felix uncovers the puzzling fate of the man who previously maintained the elevator and discovers that he went insane and was institutionalized. He tracks him down at the nuthouse but he’s little help.

The sight of pudding dripping from the walls is ghastly.  (Sorry, off-screen). 

The journalist tracks down a brainy computer expert who postulates the theory that the elevator’s computer chips have been compromised and made self-aware with the desire to kill people. Chips haven’t performed this much intestinal damage since Olestra.  As if sensing Felix is close to stopping its malevolent ways, the elevator steps up its murderous game.

Steven Tyler was WRONG!!!

Felix confirms the prof’s theory of the elevator's sentience and grouchiness when he finds a very much breathing and a very slimy chip control panel inside of it.

Was this triggered when the chip said, “I don’t know”?

Felix arrives at a crossroads.  His family has abandoned him.  His employer distrusts him.  People are being chopped up around him while the elevator mocks him and his unkempt hair. If Felix can summon the will, the audacity, and the gallantry to stop the massacre, the lift's days are numbered. Oh and a wrench might help too.    

THE FINISHER: 

The non-vehicular inanimate object as killer sub-genre, much like its four-wheeled cousin, is one that is much maligned and dismissed.  The general impression that all these kinds of movies are terrible is inaccurate as both good and bad can be discovered if you look hard enough.  For every Death Bed: The Bed That Eats (it does) or Battle Heater: Kotatsu (yes, a killer heater) there is a Pin (killer mannequin) or Magic (killer ventriloquist dummy), the latter two solid suspenseful stories, the former, well not so much (but still a hell of a lot of fun).  In light of a truly ridiculous premise, The Lift is actually a neatly crafted thriller that’s played so straight-faced that you may not even care that in the end it’s about an elevator that kills people wantonly.  An odd charm pervades the proceedings, enough to admire even though the film’s tone shifts schizophrenically from ludicrous family drama to conspiratorial intrigue (we learn that the elevator’s devilish mechanization was designed by a twisted scientist) to mad as a shithouse full of burning wooden shoes.  But the real star is the comical and maybe not so accurate dubbing in the American release. Samples of weird dialogue include “Brain doctor, he used to be OK”, “I used to work Vice Squad. You get numb. It’s a pity”, “[He] picked up a girl on the street, took her to his place and gave her a sleeping pill so she'd keep quiet. Then he went to work with a drill, Black & Decker I think”, and the immortal “If I were an imbecile, [LONG PAUSE] and I’m not…”.  Also early 80s Dutch parenting is a sight to behold. Felix openly calls his son stupid. A woman slaps the sass out of her daughter’s mouth after the girl survives near consuming by the elevator.  And a mother tells her daughter she will grow breasts if she sits down and shuts up.  Poetry.  Thanks to director Dick “the Maaster” Maas, we get plenty of gritty elevator tech talk accented with enough computer chip conspiracy theories to grow back Jesse Ventura’s hair.  In the end the movie is surprisingly appealing and technically well-made with an effective culmination in the final showdown.  Maas remade his film (of course he did) as 2001’s Down (aka The Shaft) which I can’t wait to see because this month’s selection of films have had its. … wait for it … ups and downs.  GAHHHHH!!!

Rushing to pump out my killer insurance building flick!

GHOST CHASE (1987)

THE CARD:

Jason “Clodzilla” Lively, Tim “Dork After Tomorrow” McDaniel, Paul “The Only Stargate in this Movie” Gleason, Jill “Wishes She Was Anonymous” Whitlow, Leonard “The German Patriot” Lansink, Ian “Dead Parrot” McNaughton, and Anthony Hopkins as Gollum in Remains of E.T.’s Day.

More details here.

THE ANGLE: 

It’s the sweet, magnificent 1980s and aspiring filmmaker Fred (McDaniel) and his dim pal Warren (Lively, aka the original Vacation’s Rusty Griswold) need to come up with some cash quick to fund their latest horror epic.  All seems hopeless when the star actress and their child labor walk off the set.  But being the plucky young artistes, they still believe in the Hollywood dream.

I guess even Scorcese & Kubrick started out butt-dumb

Their house is a treasure trove of movie posters, film props, masks, and boxes of cereal strewn everywhere. Unfortunately, the presence of all this cool stuff holds true in the 80s as it does now: it’s sex kryptonite.  But they do have an awesome doorbell.

“HEE HEE HEE!  NICE KNOCKERS! HEE HEE HEE!”

Good news arrives in the form of a letter that announces that Warren is now eligible to receive his late father’s inheritance.  Unfortunately, it turns out to be just a suitcase full of old stuff including a picture of Warren’s creepy old Grandpa (McNaughton) and a haunted clock.  That night, strange sounds and lights appear in their house while an eerie mist emanates from the clock.  Things get even weirder when film producer Stan Gordon (Gleason) hires a German goon (Lansink) to steal the suitcase from the guys. 

Gordon is remaking King Kong. Of course he is.

Fred starts having bad dreams about the clock and one night at exactly midnight the ghost of Grandpa’s butler appears to him.  The next day, he gets an idea for a movie and builds a replica of the little ghost he saw.  That night, the elderly ghost named Louis inhabits the animatronic copy of himself, walks around serving drinks, speaks with an English accent, and generally freaks everyone out.

E.T. phone A.A.R.P.

The guys and their struggling actress pal Laurie (Whitlow) learn from Louis that their Grandpa’s house holds the vengeful Grandpa’s secret fortune.  Unfortunately the house is still inside the Hollywood studio of evil Stan Gordon who is also keen on the money as his family grifted Grandpa years ago.  So the gang hatches a plot to infiltrate the studio, take the cash that’s rightfully Warren’s for some reason, and wait for the director’s royalty check to Scooby Doo to clear. 

“ZOICKS!” ™

THE FINISHER:

Every film director has an early embarrassment.  Kubrick has Killer’s Kiss.  Coppola has Dementia 13. Roland Emmerich has everything except maybe The Patriot.  He also has 1987’s Ghost Chase, a K-Tel Presents greatest hits mix of other 80s movies like Ghostbusters, Weird Science, Gremlins, and Name-Your-Teen-Sex-Comedy-Here.  Despite everything the movie references and despite all the glorious awfulness to be found here, there’s nothing much to say other than the movie is a fairly generic horror teen comedy that elicits moments of nostalgic sighs and few surprises.  I guess can just go ahead and catalog all the wonderful 80s misery I discovered: 1) Minimalist animated credit sequence (ie a pair of googly eyes). 2) Standard but unrecognizable 80s pop music.  There’s a song called “Imagination” that’s repeatedly played over scene after scene, ironically.  3) Loads of German crew members.  4) Many classic posters including Frankenstein, Friday the 13th, and King Kong Lives.  Ahem.  5) Shots of unrecognizable Hollywood and Sunset (the pictured Denny’s, pizza joint, and hooker corners no longer exist). 6) Product placement: Morton’s, Smuckers, Puffed Rice, Raisin Bran, Beer on Cornflakes.  7) Paul Gleason in a lovely scarf (R.I.P.). 8) Roland Emmerich in tears. The saddest thing, however, is seeing legendary Monty Python’s Flying Circus director McNaughton ham it up as Grandpa’s ghost.  Weird.  But all cheesiness aside, it does have one very special thing going for it:

ANOTHER appearance by Porky!

BLOOD CAR (2007)

THE CARD:

Mike “Blood Geek” Brune, Anna “Blood Paycheck” Chlumsky, Katie “Blood Slut” Rowlett, Marla “Blood Window Dressing” Malcolm, and Bill “Blood Cheap Joke” Szymanski.

More details here.

THE ANGLE: 

In the near future, the cost of a gallon of gasoline has risen to $36 which is slightly less than the Chevron on Cesar Chavez and Alameda today.  No one but the very rich and powerful drive and the rest of the world is left to ride bikes like incredibly fit schmucks. Archie (Brune), a milquetoast vegan kindergarten teacher, is struggling to invent an engine that runs on wheatgrass, vegetable juice, and hippie dreams.

Archie, wannabe inventor of the I-Coulda-Had-A-V8 engine.  Yuk, yuk!

In between bedroom engineering and reading inappropriate stories to his class of confused kiddies, he buys said wheatgrass from local vegan cutie Lorraine (Chlumsky) who is hopelessly in love with the indifferent Archie.

My Girl’s girl: “Where’s a bee swarm when you need one?”

When all efforts to get the engine started fail, he goes on a spastic rage and accidently cuts his arm.  His blood drips on the prototype which magically makes it work, even without Tim Gunn’s catty inspiration.  After failed attempts to use animal blood, he concludes that the engine thirsts only for human blood.  He eventually designs and installs a larger version to fit in the trunk of his Honda of Horror.

Henry Ford and Boris Karloff would be proud.

His new hemoglobin-fueled wheels draw the attention of math-impaired carjackers, racist mechanics, and sultry, gloriously foul-mouthed BBQ joint cashier Denise (Rowlett).

Va-va-vroooom of Doom!

She seduces the hard-up Archie for free rides and all kinds of kinky non-J.G. Ballard scripted car sex, much to the chagrin of broken-hearted Lorraine.  To keep his social calendar active, Archie embarks on a rampage of violence and killing to keep his tank full and his pants off.

Finally, a green serial killer.  You can all shut up now, hippies!

But Archie’s shenanigans also draw the attention of mysterious government agents who want the secret to his maniacal mechanizations.  But even though Archie has forsaken his integrity, beliefs, and perhaps true love, he fights the power and goes on a nutty binge of appalling sadism that would make Patrick Bateman on coke blush.  

Cheaper than a Texaco card, I can assure you. 

THE FINISHER:

Blood Car isn’t really an evil car movie; it’s more an evil people movie, that is, unintentionally evil people.  It satirizes our dependence on gasoline and the car culture that’s just as addictive as sex and power.  Hysterical but ultimately flawed, Blood Car explores really cool ideas that could have merged into a brilliant black comedy had it had more time to flesh out its satirical themes and a bigger budget to hammer them down.  It’s still a really funny and messed-up movie with plenty of dark humor, wanton blood and boobs, and enough dirty talk to ruin a sailor’s bachelor party.  While most of the actors are absolutely fine, it’s Rowlett as the sex-hungry but unmoved Denise who almost steals the film with a profane performance of passive apathy. Plus she’s super hot. Also not doing bad in the growing up department is Chlumsky who appears to be ready for her own True Blood-esque break out.  The movie is also shot and edited very well for such a low-budget picture and the distasteful jokes and gory hijinks make up for the evident lack of resources.  But as it goes with all of these kinds of micro-budget films, the story falls apart about two-thirds of the way as the filmmakers struggle with reaching feature length or whatever the reason.  Fortunately, the grim finale makes it worth the wait with a truly dismal, screwed-up, and hilarious resolution.  In these times, Blood Car may be too on-the-nose, but at least there’s comfort in knowing that we’ll have plenty of hippies, racists, and airheads to fuel our trip to Hell.

WHEELS OF TERROR (1990)

THE CARD:

Joanna “Replicant in Heels” Cassidy, Marci “Kid that Squeals” Leeds, Arlen Dean “Deals in Error” Snyder, Carlos “Don Fix-ote“ Cervantes, and the 1974 Dodge Pederast.

More details here.

THE ANGLE: 

Single mom Laura (Cassidy) escapes the hustle and bustle of the city and settles in rural Copper Valley with her pre-teen daughter Stephanie (Leeds).  The small family struggles to adjust as Stephanie makes friends, the townspeople are welcoming and friendly, and Laura lands a job as the school bus driver. But things go awry when a creepy Dodge muscle car stalks the valley terrorizing teens and running over cheapskate Dads.

Automotive design by Larry, Daryl, & Daryl 

Unfortunately, the kids are brutally assaulted before being released, left traumatized for life.  The town erupts in fear and blames the inept police department and the head detective in charge (Snyder) for lack of answers.  Curiously, no one seems to notice that the black car waits for the kids IN FRONT OF THE SCHOOL EVERY AFTERNOON.  Being the keen big city gal she is, Laura soon develops suspicion about this car, especially when it tries to run the bus full of kids off the road.

Objects in the mirror are eviler than they appear

And then the car starts to stalk Laura and Stephanie around their ranch home, revving the engine and circling the yard in the middle of the night menacingly. 

You’re a long way from that sexy transparent jacket, baby.

But no man in town, from the bumbling police Detective to the horndog Hispanic mechanic (Cervantes), believes her story despite multiple witnesses and the continued disappearances of young girls.  So when Stephanie is taken right in front her, Laura pops the clutch and puts the hammer down and pursues the villainous vehicle her own self.

Milf on a mission: “Not without my daughter you gear-head rapists!”

What follows is a Motherly showdown worthy of Ellen Ripley, Sarah Conner, Beatrix Kidd, or at the very least a very ticked off Sally Field.  

Twisted Metal meets Mr. Rogers

THE FINISHER:

Once again, Arizona is the setting for an evil car movie in Wheels of Terror but this time the horror is inspired less by supernatural or demonic forces but one more grounded in reality, a parent’s nightmare of their child being abducted, assaulted, and murdered.  That fact makes viewing this movie feel all the more icky but yet it reinforces characters' motivations and our identification with Laura's plight as a desperate mother all the more.  So in effect, the movie plays out more like The Car as if re-imagined by the Lifetime network.  Hell, maybe the O Network, a reference that will likely poorly age.  Unfortunately, up until the time she is kidnapped, we don’t get to know much about Stephanie and her relationship with Mom..  We get the gist that they've moved from L.A. to this small town but aren’t given much to go with that.  There’s not even a suggestion as to why she’s relocated, why she picked this Podunk town, or why she’s so good at driving school buses loaded with racing car engines.  

This flying Dodge loves kids, but not in a Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang kind of way.  

Also ridiculous is the police, the townspeople, and the children’s inability to LOOK RIGHT, as in the DIRECTION THE CREEPY MOLESTER CAR IS COMING AT YOU.  But despite the lack of character development, the movie is not without charm as the last 50 minutes are dedicated to Laura and the Dodge’s explosive car chase confrontation which is actually pretty darn good.  Wheels of Terror was a TV-movie produced for the USA Network and was directed by Christopher Cain whose previous effort was the hit Young Guns, and so the film is fairly bloodless but not without its aforementioned atmosphere of desperation and well, icky-ness, and deserves a spot in the pantheon of evil car lore.   

SUPER HYBRID (2010)

THE CARD:

Shannon “Super Final Girl” Beckner, Oded “Super Jerk” Fehr, Ryan “Super Brain” Kennedy”, Melanie “Super Rack” Papalia, Adrien “Super Pant Soaker” Dorval and Super “Not Really A” Hybrid.

More details here.

THE ANGLE: 

A sleek but strange black sedan stalks the streets of Chicago searching for victims to lure inside its eerie interior to be strangled by obsidian tentacles, ripped apart with razor sharp teeth, and consumed by soft Corinthian leather.  And it will take more than Ricardo Montalban’s latin lover accent and good posture to make this cursed Cordoba sell. 

The car of your nightmares can be yours for All Your Body Parts Down, A Pint of Blood a Month (on Approved Credit)

After devouring a couple of low octane teens out for a night on the town, the car is flattened in an accident and has to be impounded at a city garage.  The garage employees led by dick boss Ray (Fehr) prepare for the garage’s closure for remodeling and will spend the night clearing out the joint. So the car is tucked in a corner somewhere where it waits, and watches.

Blood Vision is a (Death) Dealer Incentive

The car repairs itself and possesses the ability to shape-shift into various car models - mostly American because monstrous vehicles that digest Cubs fans is what made this country great, damn it! Anyway, it messes with the mechanics' heads, morphing into your Grandpa’s Caddy, your Mom’s station wagon, and your penile-challenged dick neighbor’s pick-up truck.  Bored with the games, it starts picking off the garage staff one by one.

Talk about your sticker shock. HA! HA! Heh …

Twenty-six minutes into the movie, we are presented with “it’s an ancient predator who mimics” theory as to the origin of the car.  I know, you’ve heard it all before.  

The new 2012 Pontiac Cthulhu.

Female mechanic and car expert Tilda (Beckner), her nephew Bobby (Kennedy), sultry sarcastic secretary Maria (Papalia), and Ray are the last ones standing after the car’s all-you-can-eat demolition derby.  And it’s a scramble against time, the creature’s voracious hunger for blood, and rising oil prices to stop the Super Hybrid from being so Hybridy!*

“The Goddamned Consumer Goddamned Reports is gonna hear about this one!”

*Dude, it’s totally not a hybrid!

THE FINISHER:

I must admit that my heart skipped a beat when I read the tagline “The New Generation of Killer Car Movies is Here” on Super Hybrid’s DVD cover.  Finally, a triumphant 21st century return to a much maligned and forgotten subgenre!  Oh the running-down of dopey shoddily dressed gear heads!  Oh the promise of turbo-charged gore!  Oh the obvious technological metaphors!  And it’s directed by Eric Valette who made the not-completely terrible One Missed Call remake and it’s written by a guy named Benjamin Carr.  His name is CARR!  Super Hybrid starts off strong with a cool overhead shot of Chicago and appropriate music tailored for possible vehicular manslaughter.  Wonder of wonders I thought to myself, how could this go wrong?  Well, the question really is not how but how soon. Turns out, it took 26 minutes.  That’s when we learn that the car is a mighty morphing squid of some kind.  Skipped heart broken.  Oh, and it’s not a hybrid at all.  I know this because it did not morph into a smug ironic-glasses-wearing prick.  Beset by a total lack of gore and the budgetary aesthetics of a SYFY Original, the movie degenerates into a predictable spookshow in a car garage and not fuel-injected massacre of my dreams.  But it’s not a complete loss.  The finale is action-packed and enjoyable despite the poor CG effects.  In the end, what’s baffling is why the makers stuck to a PG-13 rating.  Were they anticipating a quick sale to SYFY?  Maybe, who knows?  In the end, the thirsty Super Hybrid may have a penchant for red but if the makers had made a blood-soaked thrill ride instead, they would’ve seen a lot more green.