Flesh for the Beast (2003)
(Theatrical Release Date: October 10, 2003)
(Premiere Date: September 27, 2003 [Monster Mania])

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J.C. Maçek III The World's Greatest Critic! BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! Scroll Down for the Complete Zombie Collection: Part of the 2006 Summer of Horror! I have a lot of sympathy for Flesh for the Beast. At core this is lesser film festival fare working harder than knotty pine to exploit all its benefits and bring forth some legitimate scares. It almost succeeds. Considering all, however, this film doesn't quite hold up to the critical eye, in spite of just how hard the groups on either side of the camera work. Let me give you a little help understanding what I mean, and why I mean it. Flesh for the Best was written and directed by Terry West, the man who has brought us (so far) no less than seven Misty Mundae movies, including The Lord of the G-Strings: The Femaleship of the String and Spiderbabe. By the way, Ter', THANK YOU!!! But you get the idea, this is not quite your most original director or writer in the world. That's a fact, jack. So keeping that in mind, you can get the idea that this film is probably not much better or worse than any of his other efforts. To this end, it's hard not to notice that the acting here is pretty damned bad in most areas. In fact, it seems that most of the cast has been filmed during their first rehearsal. While the gore effects are at least a quarter way decent, the frights are pretty standard and just about what you'd expect from Terry M. West. True to form, the man who is neither North, South nor East works hard toward plugging every swiss-cheese plot hole with nudity. By the way, Ter', THANK YOU again!!! The rest of the plot seems to be a big set-up for a little more nudity here and there. A twelfth-rate douche-bag named John Stoker (non-actor Sergio Jones, of the Resident Evil VIDEO GAMES and three episodes of Baywatch) invites a group of paranormal investigators to Hill House... OOPS, I mean "The Fischer House" ostensibly to find out what the eff-you-see-kay has the place so damned haunted. It turns out that occult sleaze ball Alfred Fischer (Aldo Sambrell) has turned his turn of the century Whorehouse into a modern day Horror House with the help with Caroline Munro's Carla the Gypsy. One would have to be stupider than Dennis Kucinich's barber to not realize that old goober Stoker is quite obviously in on the whole thing and working damned hard to tap into the puissance of the house, by way of a nifty-ass amulet. Two catches: 1) he has to find the damned amulet with help of any number of gullible psychics and 2) he has to constantly bring in suckers for the house's denizens (read: hot naked chicks) to eat. Luckily these things mesh like camouflage and deer hunting, so "Stoker Ace" is killing two proverbial birds with one proverbial stone. I love multitasking. One by one our stupid psychics (and two moronic "documentary film makers") bite the big one at the hands of the House, a Vision of Fischer, the seduction of evil, or that wandering cadre of Zombies, Zombies, Zombies! Yes, Yes! You didn't think that you'd get through this whole thing without a visit from a bunch of zombies doing a bunch of zombie things. And because this is Terry M. West, after all, you're sure to get a bunch of naked chicks doing a bunch of naked things. A special Kneumsi salute goes to our female focus Erin Cooper (Jane Scarlett, whom we see completely naked). She's cute and manages to keep our sympathies throughout. Also stepping up to the human buffet is Toy-Lovin' Cassandra (Ruby Larocca, whom we see completely naked), seductive shower girl Pauline (Caroline Hoermann, whom we see completely naked, and her Shower Silhouette body double Isadora Edison, whom we see completely naked in shadow), and, of course, the chairwoman of the BORED Irene (Barbara Joyce, whom we merely see topless). Most of the scares rely on startling the viewer with vaguely scary imagery, or perhaps a wheelbarrow-load of gross outs. When the hotties aren't popping on screen with black contacts in to say BOO, they're crawling around covered in Pepto-Bismol, supposedly getting all cannibalistic on a corpse. But considering how mediocre the whole thing is, all I see is a bunch of naked chicks doing a bunch of naked things while rolling around in red dye. It's better than mud-wrestling. Why bother killing anybody... we're not watching it for the gore, kids. And I mean that. Stoker must be stupider than Joey from Friends to not check in the most obvious place in the house for that damned amulet. There might as well be a big ass neon arrow pointing toward the "Hiding Place" with bold letters screaming out "Secret Scary Amulet Cubby Hole Rye-Cheer!" This idiot couldn't find Ice Cubes in a Freezer. "I need you all to help me find out where the Ice Cubes in my house are kept! I've looked everywhere but the 'Icebox'!" What a Douche! But that's what we get in this silly movie, stupid men doing stupid things at the behest of hot naked women, usually to the sound of the silly score by Buckethead the guy who played guitar for Guns N' Roses almost long enough for you to notice. Ah, man. Again, I'm sympathetic, because considering all, West has pulled a few good moments out of his film. However, you can't expect me to feel sorry at all for a man who has had hands-on directing experience with this many hot lesbian sex scenes in this many hot lesbian movies. Therefore, this primarily bad movie gets Two Stars out of Five. Ignore the acting and logic and you might just have a good time. But then again, if you've already seen The Screaming Dead or the strikingly different Blood for the Muse, you may or may not really NEED to watch Flesh for the Beast. Wanting to, on the other hand will depend on your tastes... But hey, you... you... you... okay, I haven't anything else to endorse this movie with... at this point I'm just trying to justify having bought it. I figure, hey, free T-Shirt, free Comic Book, gratuitous nudity... we're in bidnish. I guess I'm just predictable like that. Not as predictable as this movie, but hey... ah? Hey!