Writhing eels. Mysterious ethereal lullabies hummed in the deep. Gothic horror for a new generation. Skin masks obscuring hideous melty disfigurements. Old catacombs. Imprisoned in iron lungs. Cold, clinical white floor tiling and Wes Anderson meets demonic Kubrick set design. Dental torture rooms. The grating of metal and the slipperiness of the creatures hidden in the pools of this wellness retreat. Medieval castles and towers loom in the Swiss Alps as freedom is gradually taken from the ambitious young executive…
Sun drenched Texas fevers. 70’s film grain. Pigs squeal. Gore dries in the overwhelming heat. Cows moo, restless in the slaughterhouse. And people scream…..as the roar of the chainsaw and the point of the meathooks and the blow of the sledgehammers engulf them. Lonely poor souls, a teal bus smeared with the blood of a lunatic ventures into a fresh Hell of cannibalism, houses of horrors and ornaments and furniture made of bones. The unknown horrors lurking past the hum…
Everyone has seen Rocky Horror. Or, at least, I would hope so. Everyone except me.
The horniest, most diabolical, most batshit fucking flamboyant, most beautiful musical ever made. That is, if you don’t count Climax as a musical………….
ITS THE PELVIC THRUUUUUST THAT REALLY DRIVES YOU INSAAAAAAANEE