Sure, we’ve all taken part in a ritual human sacrifice or two back when we were young and silly, but these people have some real problems. Their first problem: They’re Appalachian folks of the woods who wash their clothes about once a year, eat possum meat, have arranged marriages, believe in wild superstitions and don’t seem to have any fun at all beyond beating each other up and partaking in occasional incest action. The second problem: Their superstitions are all true! When they speak of a supernatural pit out by the creek that requires regular blood infusions or evil spirits will fly out of it like a plastic snake from a novelty peanut brittle can and start killing people, it’s not just the moonshine talking. The demon of the pit also likes to handpick future sacrifices and relay the message to the village idiot via psychic transmissions. If the wrong person gets sacrificed, the pit throws a tantrum over it and makes Oscar Mayer specials out of a few bystanders. When Lauren Ashley Carter, whose face is about 80% eyes, is the pit’s next choice for a meal, she tries to get away. That means Salami City for some of her friends and family, but, hey, she IS the only cute girl in the village. The pit really is asking too much this time.
Though writer/director Chad Crawford Kinkle goes by three names, he at least keeps the film compact. It’s his feature debut and he packs as much dysfunction as he can in a tight eighty-one minutes. He avoids the common mistake of over-explaining the mythology (or explaining it at all, for that matter). Kinkle just throws the meat on the table and lets it lie. A weird and entertaining story like this doesn’t need more than that.