One of the twitchiest, most wired serial killers you’ve ever seen in a movie goes on a slice-and-dice spree. There are about fifteen gallons of blood in this one. Shaven-headed, Brooklyn-accented John Giancaspro gives a memorable, vein-popping performance as psychotic Harry Russo. In between the crushed heads, sliced-off nipples, and knifed stomachs, writer/director Ron Atkins spends a lot of time showing Harry alone talking to himself, talking to the camera, or talking to a ventriloquist dummy named Rubberneck that he carries with him everywhere he goes. Harry’s constantly on one drug or another. He also likes to unnerve people by going out in drag. About the only person he’s nice to is an old woman who runs a porn theater.
Equal opportunity nudity here. For every naked girl we see, we also get a scene where Harry is alone, nude, and having another schizo wig-out, stomping about and whirling his dick around like a propeller.
Grimy, sick B-movie, shot on cheap video in cheap apartments on a budget of about $17.50. Ron Atkins wanted to make something a little more deranged than your usual slasher fare and he succeeded. Don’t let your mother catch you watching this.