Joe Gola’s review published on Letterboxd:
I wish there a way that, instead of a rating, you could just give a movie a cloud of question marks.
What's amazing to me is that a film that that is ostensibly about a cannibal serial killer should also at times end up being so painfully corny. It doesn't exactly know what it wants to be—it's part sicko horror movie, part cheesy whodunnit, and part wisecracking comedy. Ninety percent of the things that go on don't make a whole lot of sense, and Lee Tracy's cowardly reporter alternates between being mildly amusing and eye-rollingly grating. Still, though, it had enough atmospheric, horrific and/or perverse moments to make it worth sitting through once; it's not every day you get to see a movie with a character groaning the words "synthetic flesh" over and over.
Also, is it just me, or is the final scene a really dirty joke?