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MICROWAVE MASSACRE (1983)
Directed by Wayne Berwick
Anthem Pictures DVD
Reviewed 04.27.06
Review by Joseph A. Ziemba
THE FILM
Food and sex. Sex and food. After
75 minutes of visual gorging on
both, I am neither hungry nor horny.
In fact, I feel faint. Pass the
bicarbonate. And contraceptives.
Let's you and I let our imaginations
run wild. There's a very large man
in a Chicago Bears windbreaker.
His fingertips are smeared with
Cheese-Puffs and he keeps screaming,
"Show us your tits!" The
man's collection of dog-eared dirty
joke paperback books is second to
none. He lives alone. He just turned
46. Possibly, this man dipped into
the movie business in 1983. Possibly,
this man should be leashed.
Back to reality. This is Microwave
Massacre; a fantasy land of
piss-stained couches, enormous breasts,
old tupperware, and more dick jokes
than a junior high locker room.
The sole directorial prod from Wayne
Berwick, Microwave is a
dirt floor T&A comedy (below
even Splitz, Joysticks,
or Fraternity Vacation)
with a touch of goofy mannequin
gore and an exhausted Jewish comedian.
The gigantic microwave was genuinely
hilarious, but my glumness beat
it down. Sorry.
A girl pops her breasts through
a construction site fence. And away
we go! Donald (Jackie Vernon, voice
of Rankin Bass's Frosty The
Snowman) wears a hard hat,
mugs for the camera, and holds a
simmering hate for his beastly wife,
May. She says, "You're a walking
contraceptive!" and cooks exotic
dinners that he refuses to eat.
After a few rounds at Mr. Chester's
Bar, Donald conks May with a pepper
shaker and delves into his inner
Freudian odyssey. Hookers, beware!
Donald's libido is courting his
appetite and we all know where that
leads. Yep, more vaudeville jokes,
people food, and bigger boobies.
Microwave Massacre lies
somewhere between the dispirited
failure of I
Was A Teenage Zombie and
the broom closet production of Gore-Met
Zombie Chef From Hell.
It's good for the laughable early
80s nostalgia (microwave technology,
gaudy home decorating, rubber limbs)
but not much else. Pointing to the
downfall of the constant preteen
humor is too easy; most of the film's
indifference lies in the miserable
atmosphere. Poor Jackie Vernon is
about two minutes away from triple
bypass surgery. The sight gags are
embarassingly dense (a nude woman
is slathered in mayonnaise, then
placed under a giant piece of foam
bread). The women involved seem
to be squirming for a way out of
the camera's lingering eye. I cannot
blame them.
Dumbing it down didn't work. I want
my appetite back.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
One thing's for sure: The presentation
delivers. Surely a step up from
the stately Midnight Video VHS (and
later version from Rhino), the full
frame, uncut print is outstanding.
Bright 80s color palettes pop like
balloons and the clarity and contrast
are rich. You can even see the botched
breast implant scars. There were
occasional spics 'n' specs on the
print, but nothing you'd really
notice. The mono sound crackled
at times, mostly during high-volume
dialogue.
EXTRAS
Poop on the newly created promo
trailer. Double poop on the atrocious
cover art that screams, "The
worst horror movie of all time."
Obviously, the folks at Anthem have
yet to discover Dr.
Jekyll's Dungeon Of Darkness.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Microwave Massacre is a
triple whip of disappointment; an
unfunny, unhorrific, and thoroughly
unsexy experience. If you've previously
enjoyed the film, this DVD is an
obvious upgrade from VHS. Pick it
up. Everyone else, rent if you must,
but otherwise avoid. |
You can't get much lower
I stand corrected
The X-174A
Beautiful
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