The Reel Deal
by
Matthew Irby
Movie Title: Blood on the Highway

Genre: Comedy/Horror

Year: 2008

Run-Time: 1 hour, 28 minutes

Directed By: Barak Epstein, Blair Rowan

Starring: Deva George, Robin Gierhart, Nate Rubin, Tony Medlin, Laura Stone,
Chris Gardner, Tom Towles, Nicholas Brendan


POLARIZING TROMA ODE IS BLOODY AND BRILLIANT


     No less than six different people left the packed house midway through the debut
showing of
Blood on the Highway on opening night at The A.F.I. Film Festival in
Dallas. These were the ones who never came back.

   An acquaintance of mine – one of the lemmings – would later disclose to me that
there was an irate woman just before him as he made his early exit. She was just
outside of Angelika Theater 6, clasping tightly to the viewer’s choice ballot in her
hand and admonishing the poor usher that was collecting the votes in a burgundy
velour sack. She was saying that there wasn’t a number on the small slip of paper
that was low enough to accurately represent her feelings about the “garbage” she
had seen within. And with a huff of righteous haughtiness, she disappeared into
Mockingbird Square – probably to watch the new Jodie Foster and Abigail Breslin
movie – or maybe just to sip an appletini at the Target Lounge.

   If they knew this, co-writers Chris Gardner and Blair Rowan would probably puff out
their chests with a sense of accomplishment.

   
Blood on the Highway is not for a select group of people in this world. Among
them, perhaps: Nuns, grandmothers, people who have been sent forward in time from
the 1950’s, angels, sane people, children, or people who are offended by the use of
every possible combination of naughty words in the dictionary (and some that I’m not
sure that I’ve ever even heard before).

   But the rest of us can sit back and enjoy a little old-fashioned good-natured
debauchery.

   We may punch our tickets to hell simply by watching it, but one thing is for sure:
Blood on the Highway is exactly what it means to be. And that, for those who get it,
can be a damn good time.

   A satirical horror film, we appropriately begin with a road trip gone badly. In this
case, a measly little sprout named Sam is stricken with a case of the pukes en route
to a festival; and after he purges all over the map, he, his girlfriend Carrie, and his
lowlife buddy Bone become lost.

   Wandering into the modest town of Fate, Texas (“It’s not Denver,” claims a
welcoming sign at the border of the tiny hamlet), they find themselves overrun by
very casual and often dimwitted vampires (A clique of pot-head vamps sitting in a
suburban looking backyard lament about their failing people-catching strategies while
one of them sends and receives text messages on a cell phone).

   It seems no one can ever leave Fate. And for all of the airiness and incompetence
of the bloodsuckers within the town’s perimeter, the infection has indeed spread, and
vampires have become the vast majority of the quaint village’s population.

   But fortified within the bloodthirsty berg is a band of misfit humans – the survivalist
Byron, his last remaining wife, Lynette (of a former baker’s dozen), and a cocky
jackass named Roy, who apparently has an inverted penis that he’s persistently
compensating for.

   Together, this strange brew of characters (ostensibly further morally depraved and
sadistic than the vampires themselves) will try and stave off the curse of immortal
hunger and the more imminent danger of death whilst attempting to reclaim their
freedom, all while making the open-minded ones in the audience recurrently belly
laugh.

   What is perhaps most surprising about
Blood on the Highway, which was shot for
pennies in and around Lancaster, Texas, is that it has some fairly dazzling
performances – a trait not often attributed to films made in this price range,
particularly in the horror realm.

   Robin Gierhart, as Carrie, is a strong female lead with nice naturalism (as well as a
bit of a resemblance to vampire hunting predecessor Sarah Michelle Gellar). Nate
Rubin sparkles as her sleight and baby-faced boyfriend, Sam, who is too pure to be
overwhelmed – akin to an innocent teddy bear wandering lost amid downtown Sodom
and Gomorrah. And Deva George, as Bone, channels Bruce Campbell’s cocktail of
comedic timing and general badassery as he stalks around without conscience or
fear at all; and he tears through vampires with controlled recklessness.

   The special make-up effects, headed up by Joshua Fread, are fabulously
excessive and often impressive. As one character is bitten multiple times by a team of
trashy vamp-tramps, he has layers of skin peeled from his neck and face. One
character has a broom handle jabbed into his chest cavity. Another is done in with a
straw to the neck which drips with blood from the business end. And let us not forget
Sam’s second vomiting spell in which the putrid pink chunks of stomach lining pour
endlessly all over the floor by the gallon like some kind of satanic Niagara Falls.

   
Blood on the Highway is rich with first-rate comedic timing, which is really its most
valuable trait. Co-directors Rowan and Barak Epstein, as well as editor Michael
Fleetwood, have a knack for this type of material, which is evident immediately upon
a splendidly gory punctuation to an electrifying teaser just prior to the opening credits
and carried forth throughout the flick’s entire 88-minute runtime.

   
Blood on the Highway seems directly derivative of Lloyd Kauffman’s Troma films. It
has more cuss words than an Eddie Murphy stand-up routine, crass sexual humor,
strong bloody violence, excessive gore, and a little nudity. Throw in gobs of unsettling
dark humor, and you have the recipe for something to stand side-by-side with the
classics of this cult genre.

   But a funny thing happened on the way to making an homage de Troma.
Blood on
the Highway
is as shocking as The Toxic Avenger. It is as disgusting as Terror
Firmer
. And it is as clever as Tromeo and Juliet.

   Okay, maybe it isn’t as disgusting as
Terror Firmer.

   At least six left early on opening night at the A.F.I. Festival in Dallas. A belligerent
drunk in the audience was thrown out, returned, and got thrown out again. There
were nervous cackles and bleeding ears.

   All in all, it was a pretty successful opening.