TOURIST TRAP (1979)
Directed by David Schmoeller
Koch Vision/Full Moon DVD
Reviewed 08.10.04
Review by Joseph A. Ziemba

THE FILM
Potential. Everybody’s got some. From the neighborhood little league wiz to the ivy league graduate, the spark is there -- it just depends on how you use it. Which brings us to Tourist Trap. Early on, we’re talking loads of potential. Tons. Thirty minutes pass by. Forty-two...I guess it’s inevitable. Yes, Tourist Trap, I will take a car wash after you’ve finished pumping that gas.

Throughout the runtime of this film, I was repeatedly amazed at how such a great concept could be thoroughly buried by poor decisions. Listen to this: there’s a psychic-power endowed killer in this film that’s obsessed with mannequins. He wears an insanely creepy mannequin mask that calls up the basest powers of hair-raising first introduced by Leatherface’s guise. Sounds pretty frightening, right? Unfortunately, the filmmakers chose to give this guy the most ridiculous voice imaginable, reminding me of an older cousin’s attempts at Halloween scares under a rubber mask. And then we have the music cues straight out of Honey I Shrunk The Kids. I’m not kidding.

In the most basic of plots, a group of swingers (tough guy, bombshell girls in tight halter tops, a real old fashioned “gal”) break down in their little jeep and stumble upon an out-of-business road side attraction. The place is called “Slausen’s Rest Oasis,” features mechanized wax figures, and is headed up by gritty ol’ Slausen, played by a cackling Chuck Conners. Sure enough, all is not what it seems and our group of awful actors slowly figure it out via death from the mannequin killer. If you can wade through it all, you’ll witness an ending that defines lame with a capital “L.”

So what happened? Tourist Trap delivers some genuinely thrilling moments, mostly due to the killer’s bizarre visuals and one particularly nasty death scene involving plaster. There’s a lack of gore and focus on chills that definitely works for the better. Unfortunately, every single creep was equaled and bettered by the terrible acting, inappropriate (and sometimes terribly dated) music, and third rate plot contrivances. And what about the hundreds of dizzying mannequins on display? Very scary until their mouths open, emitting heavenly groans of reverbed goofiness. The weirdness was marvelous, but the eye-rolling was abundant. Not a good combination.

AUDIO AND VIDEO
Very nice. The film is presented in a beautiful widescreen print, sharp and full of contrast. The occasional white scratches show up, but overall, it’s a pretty flawless transfer. Ditto on the stereo sound.

EXTRAS
First up, the good stuff: there’s a trailer section included, focusing on some of the most hilariously bad 80s t&a-action garbage you’ve ever seen in your life. I couldn’t stop laughing at stuff like Assault Of The Killer Bimbos and Amazon Women In The Avocado Jungle Of Death. So dumb it’s baffling, so bad it’s hysterical. There’s also a trailer for the feature film.

Then we have the true film supplements. There’s an interesting seven minute interview with the film’s director, David Schmoeller. Interspersed with film clips, Schmoeller discusses the film’s effects, mannequin origins, and his surprise at a PG rating. Moving on, David S. also provides a full length commentary. It’s low-key, crippled by stretches of silence, heavy on the screen action, contains lots of “Uuummm”’s, and overlaps with everything discussed in the interview. This track is a real patience tester. Examples: “This scene was shot on a stage” and “This was shot somewhere outside of LA. I can’t remember where.” Only die-hard fans need apply. Holding up the rear, it’s a group of mostly unreadable cast and crew bios and filmographies. Crank up the type size, please.

FINAL THOUGHTS
Never rising to the true potential it initially presented, Tourist Trap falls to the bottom of the obscure 70s horror ladder. Might be worth a rental to some, as it seems to be held in high nostalgic regard, but as a first time viewer, I was completely disappointed.

Egads!


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