TALES FROM THE QUADEAD
ZONE (1987)
Directed by Chester N. Turner
Trugore Video DVD-R
Buy
it from Truegore Video!
THE FILM
Chester Novell Turner, where in
the world are you?
Here's an infallible theory. Shot
on video (SOV) horror films in the
1980s were busted out to get feet
in doors, mess around, or make money.
Sometimes it worked on all accounts
(Blood
Cult), but more often than
not, nothing happened (555).
Every SOV spectacle from that golden
era could be examined and rationalized
along those lines. Until now.
Tales From The Quadead Zone,
a three story anthology, is Chester
N. Turner's second and final dig
into self-released, SOV sludge.
Following up the exhaustive-yet-hilarious
filth of Black
Devil Doll From Hell (1984),
Quadead finds Turner and
friends in a very distinctive place.
They honed the skillz, cut the sex,
and unwittingly churned out the
greatest SOV trash film of all time.
No exceptions. Explanation, be it
godly or mortal, has gone missing
during Quadead's 62 deranged
minutes. Therefore, we must be prepared
for anything. Don't knock 'em for
the Casiotone CT-401; take heed
of the titty-mug. In the mind of
Chester Turner, these things may
be the substance of life. I wholeheartedly
agree.
A swirl of comic book credits and
psychotic, ass-shaking beats usher
us into the Quadead Zone. A woman
(Shirley L. Jones, Helen from Black
Devil Doll) reads stories from
the Quadead Zone book to her son,
Bobby. Bobby is an invisible ghost.
He communicates with Shirley by
whispering "Sha-sh-sh-sh-sha!"
and blowing in her hair (she seems
to have wind-gasms when this happens).
"Food For ?" tells the
tale of eight white trash yokels,
their quest for five sandwiches,
a teddy bear bell, and the unfortunate
introduction of a shotgun. In "The
Brothers," Ted (Keefe L. Turner,
brother of Chester) and Fred steal
Ted's brother's dead body from the
Brown-Rawls Funeral home. Fred says,
"Fuck you want a dead body
for, man?" Ted replies with
something that sounds like "Bambtwow!"
Ted's brother does not enjoy being
dressed as a clown. Finally, Shirley's
wraparound story becomes our third
adventure, "Unseen Vision".
Daryl, Shirley's husband, arrives
home, then proceeds to beat the
shit out of her with the Quadead
book. He says, "Goddamn fool
crazy muthafucka dirty bitch, shit!,"
then gets stabbed. Keyboard twee.
Razor blade. Video ghosts. No fin;
the credits say "Tales From
The Quadead Zone Will Return".
I will await forever.
As you can see, rules of language,
structure, and general awareness
have no business in the Quadead
Zone. It's a tight package of non-stop,
fantasmo delirium. People speak
in tongues that escape the radar
of historical linguists. Chester
Turner's homemade score (some of
which is recycled from Black
Devil Doll, but re-recorded)
drowns out everything at all times.
Hilarity forces you to pause for
breath (Ted and Fred's jive talk
sessions) before pummeling you with
disturbing grit-gore (Daryl Vs.
Shirley). Surprises hide beneath
every plastic covered couch and
dirt floor basement. And then, before
you realize it, Quadead
walks the plank...and lives.
The novelty of 1980s SOV trash films
lies in their associative qualities;
real people making movies on their
own terms and having fun. Simple.
Admirable. Quadead looks
real enough, and that's the stinger.
The occurrences and technical decisions
in the film are so completely derailed
that Turner and company had to be
either "touched" or oblivious
in their manic creativity. In other
words, splash cold water on your
face. This is really happening.
When that mindset hits, the film
is elevated above the expected SOV
expectations; Tales From The
Quadead Zone is incredibly
effective with its bad decisions
and equally defective the other
way around. The original intent
will baffle to no end, but one thing's
for sure: This is an experience
that can never be replicated, repeated,
or equaled. The theme song only
adds to the perfection.
I don't know where Chester Novell
Turner is today, or even where he
was back in 1987. Regardless, I
raise my titty-mug to a vision that
knows no boundaries and accepts
no substitutes. If this is life,
I want to live it.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
Taken directly from the original
homespun BC Video VHS (one of the
most obscure SOV tapes of all time),
Truegore's DVD-R looks terrific.
Very little compression is evident
and Shirley has never looked more
dazzling. The mono sound proves
that the manipulation of tape hiss
with a cheap flanger effect is an
art form unto itself.
EXTRAS
The BC Video logo montage has arrived
to get your flabby ass in gear.
It pops up after the credits.
FINAL THOUGHTS
If you take one bit of advice this
year, make it count. Buy a copy
of Tales From The Quadead Zone.
It's the greatest SOV trash film
of all time and a step up from Black
Devil Doll From Hell; creepy,
hysterical, surreal, and well beyond
explanation. Essential in the strictest
sense.
— Joseph A. Ziemba, 06.08.06 |
Love Of Shirley
Hoggin' high
Seriously, do not disturb
"My favorite glass!"
|
