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A bunch of mostly obnoxious and grossly unappealing teens go to a creepy, remote, rundown old mortuary located nearby a cemetery to attend an anything-goes all-out Halloween party being hosted by freaky occult-obsessed oddball Mimi Kinkade and her vacuous, boy-hungry bimbette friend Linnea Quigley. The loutish, profane, beer-guzzling, sex-happy dipstick dimwits hold a séance as a joke (very bad idea, 'cause the desolate old dive is naturally said to be haunted by demonic spirits). Of course, that ill-advised séance awakens those decidedly grumpy and hostile evil spirits, who gruesomely kill and possess a majority of the kids, turning them into ugly, fanged, clawed, boil-faced murderous ghouls who wreak the usual grisly havoc throughout the duration of an especially long, dark and harrowing night of pure terror.
Yep, this is essentially your umpteenth vigorously graphic and unrelenting wall-to-wall cheap shock-ridden "Evil Dead" rehash, replete with closed-off, there's no easy way out claustrophobic single self-confined setting, outrageously excessive splatter set pieces, an incessantly pounding hum'n'shiver synthesizer score, a total sense of gloom'n'doom-laden grim nightmarishness, and vibrantly in-your-face manic careening cinematography (the expected headlong rush-inducing hyperactive hand-held camera-work, smooth, sinuous tracking shots, crazily tittled camera angles, even the camera on a dolly doing a gracefully gliding 180 degree figure eight). Fortunately, Kevin S. Tenney's slick, assured, stylish direction keeps the extremely threadbare and derivative proceedings thundering along at a speedy clip; moreover, Tenny gives the film an attractive polished look and effectively creates a certain crudely energetic and enthusiastically grotesque spooky ooga-booga carnival funhouse atmosphere.
However, Steve Johnson's marvelously gory and imaginative make-up effects are the true star of the show. Bloodthirsty highlights include disgusting fat slob Hal Havins (who played a similarly irritating obese a**hole role in the immortal "Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-A-Rama" around the same time) having his tongue bitten off, Quigley shoving a whole tube of lipstick in one of her breasts (yow!) and gouging a guy's eyes out while she's making love to him (double yow!), a libidinous teen couple getting offed while doing exactly what you think in a coffin (the chick has her neck snapped while the dude has his arm chopped off), Kinkade setting her hands on fire, and, in the film's single most nasty scene, a mean old man has his throat slit from the inside out after eating an apple piece laced with razor blades. The trashy'n'thrashy rock score likewise smokes. And then there's Kinkade's incredibly wild, sexy and uninhibited demon dance, a sizzling number accompanied by a flickering strobe light and startling jump cuts that Kinkade choreographed herself. Okay, so this overall doesn't amount to anything more than a completely mindless and pointless, albeit quite nicely mounted and enjoyably vulgar hunk of blithely sleazy fright flick junk, but if you're in the mood for entertainingly brain-dead lowbrow horror scuzziness this cheerfully crass and juvenile dross does the trick just fine.


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