Bad Movie Night
This movie is an exercise in alcohol consumption. First person to drink themselves into a stupor wins. We recommend you play the drinking game of "drink whenever a word is spoken." Actually, on second thought make it two drinks per word.
We begin our medieval torture in the southwest, where there are legends of a creature called the Chupacabra, which feeds on livestock, sucking them dry of blood, hence the name, which means "goat sucker" in Spanish.
A mother and her kids are getting ready for dinner. The kids romp and play, while Mom, an ugly middle-aged housemaid type, prepares the table. When the kids are late, she gets worried and looks for them. She finds them. No chupa, no cabra, no deaths yet. Then, back at the house, Mom hears a rustling and investigates to find a broken flower pot and an open window. We see nothing, but she screams. No chupa, no cabra, and still no deaths. Cue credits.
At first we thought we were gonna have that Ladybird Johnson in the opening as the ugly lead, but it took us the whole movie to realize that there was no lead. A botched attempt at a layered plot led to us caring even less about the characters; not that we did anyway.
So, the chupas having been chupa-ing for many years now, but the only person who knows about them is some old woman, again. Oh, and they're vampires too in case this wasn't ridiculous enough for you already.
Anyway, a wicked landlord (who should have been played by Don Johnson) gives one of our heroes (a young buck type who's so wooden, he makes Keanu's delivery seem as sweet as late night Chinese) hell about rent, and then while downing Jack Daniels behind the wheel, he is killed by the only visible chupacabra in the "movie." Sadly enough, we had to use slow motion on the DVD to see it.
So, a reporter from a local paper is sent to investigate, then we're in a bar with the only hot chica, a waitress named Linda. Some old dude defends a red-headed Stevie Nicks from Dee Snider's kid brother. Dee Jr. stalks Stevie, but gets chupa'ed. The reporter shows up and nothing happens. The soon-to-be evicted hero visits the chica and her top stays on. Chalk up another air ball. Drink up or leave is the dare that this movie is based upon.
Then we have the legend of Curly's Gold. The gramps the young buck hero had a map back before he nursed his Black Label, during his vampire-hunter days. The buck steals the map, sells it to Stevie and her White Knight. Dee and the other various chupa'ed souls rise and raise more hell, killing discriminately. The Mayor dies, his wife dies, almost the entire expedition to the cave dies, and our blood-thirst was left quenchless.
The details: 15 deaths, which were sometimes doubled because one dude would die, rise and die again, so we'll knock it to 7 and a half real deaths, which was unacceptable. Even more so was the lack of breasts. There weren't even tight tops, bikini car washing, voyeuristic fantasias or cancer self-examinations. Everybody involved in this project should be fed to the lions. This movie reaches a new low, five out of five nipple clamps. (Don't) See it tonight (without Jack, Jim, Jose and Johnnie).
Think you've seen a worse movie? Or have you seen one at the video store but you're too scared to watch it yourself? E-mail any and all comments/suggestions (that aren't called Manos: The Hands of Fate) to firstname.lastname@example.org.
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