documentary

Welcome to another B-Movie Enema review!

Over the last few months or so, it feels like I’ve waxed poetic over going to the video store or a sleepover with your dumb friends and being enticed by a particular movie. Maybe it was a movie that had box art that stood out. Hell, I talked about that just a couple of weeks ago about how enticing and striking the poster for My Bloody Valentine was to me as a kid. But I’m not even really talking about just horror either. Sometimes there was a sexy cover… but when you’re in, like, the fifth or sixth grade, maybe you don’t want to admit you really want to rent that Shannon Tweed thriller just because you felt tickles in your underpants from Ms. Tweed… BUT YOU HAVE TO WATCH THAT MOVIE!

But maybe the most enticing movies that would get you to watch them with your friends at a sleepover were what I called the “dare” movies. These are movies that had a certain reputation about them that made them near taboo in terms of legendary. These were movies like I Spit on Your Grave or Cannibal Holocaust. They didn’t necessarily have to advertise their own legendary status. Another was so proud of being both legendary and taboo that not only did every kid know of this movie and its sequels, but it wanted to make sure you knew it was proud of being kind of hated. It had it splashed across the corner of the VHS box: “BANNED! In 46 Countries!”

Yeah, let’s talk Faces of Death.

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