Year: 1985
Rated: R
Run Time: 91 minutes
Production Company: Jaylo
Director: Andy Milligan (The Rats Are Coming!, The Werewolves Are Here! and The Lemurs Want Sufferage!)
Starring:Albert Alfano, Chris Baker, Leslie Den Dooven, Spitta Den Swalla
T & A: Nayrn.
I Spit : On Your Grave
I Shit : On Your Lawn

"There's No Place Like Home"

For some reason, renting CARNAGE seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, at the time, ass-raping a goose at the park with my RAM MAN action figure sounded like a good idea... and look what I got from that experience. Exactly: a pregnant goose. (Honky and I are expecting in May. For the record, I hope it's a gander.)

I guess CARNAGE seemed like such a great idea because we all thought that it would have something to do with a killer CAR. Nevermind the fact that the cover had a picture of a haunted house on it. All three of the mechani-kill grandmasters in attendance just knew that Truckasaurus Rex (or his tag team partner Lugasaurus Lex) would be all up on that motherfucker like a hispanic kid on a cheeto. At the very worst... if there was no CAR, we figured that there'd be some NAGE on there somewhere. There was also a rumor that the director of ADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING was on there, too... but it turned out that he be on welfare. Upon further investigation it was ascertained that said director got kicked in the stomach by Lisa Loeb who then stole his food stamps and got herself an apple turnover.

And speaking of turnover, any google-eyed intergalactic pussyface who rents CARNAGE deserves to be bent over a swingset and have the entire Micro Machines Star Wars collection jammed up their ass in hundred-hand-slap fashion by Mum-Ra. I am exempt from said punishment because, of course, I am the shit. You just smell like it. The shit that is. You smell like shit.

And now that I broke you off a piece of my chit-chat, I suggest you back that thang up and prepare to get your PLOT SUMMARY on, cracker.

A pair of happily married newlyweds have just discovered their dream home: a rundown old mansion in the boonies that drove its last occupants to commit murder, suicide, and aggravated sodomy with a rubber lobster. They instantly fall in love with the place and decide to move in immediately. The house is still chock full of the furniture and household appliances left behind by the previous owners but, being the sentimental types, the new couple simply decides to wipe off the caked blood and filth and keep everything the way it was before. That's a big mistake... because the tortured spirits of the previous owners have possessed every item in the house. Every knick-knack, toilet paper cozy, spice rack, and article of wicker-handicraft is imbued with the roiling fury of a satanic soul hellbent on destruction. The newlyweds suspect that evil is afoot in the old house, but it's only after a velvet portrait of Arn Anderson rockets off the wall and tears someone's head off that they realize they can't blame it on the dog. The rest of the movie is spent trying to deal with the evil apparitions as the death toll mounts. Would-be burglars, an exorcist, and a partidge in a pear tree all succumb to the spectres hellish wrath over the course of 90 minutes.

Me, I succumbed to the posse's wrath (automatic uzi motherfuckin' bloodbath) in about 30 minutes when nobody fucking died on screen and I found a deer tick on the base of my scrotum. I went to the hospital and Herr Doctor said that I contracted Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and that my testicles had swollen to the size of navel oranges. On the way out, I got my sack caught in the revolving door and I spattered my displeasure on the glass with a geyser of white-hot infected nut. Sounds painful? It was. But I was one of the lucky ones. The other fuckers had to stay home and watch the rest of CARNAGE.

Goddamn this movie sucked. So let's try and break it down like so:

According to the Internet Movie Database, CARNAGE was reportedly made in 1985: a damn fine year for sleazy horror films. According to... oh, REALITY, the movie was made in 1975: a damn fine year for icy hot muppet buttpussy. Sadly, CARNAGE did not possess any of the muppet buttpussy-like attributes that made 1975 such a hit, like a plush velvet clit or spunk that tastes like marshmellow. It did however, look ugly as hell... just like everyone and everything did in the 1970s.

According to the back of the box, there was supposed to be... oh you know, SOME GODDAMN KILLING. Well, at the all-important 30 minute mark the only thing that got killed during CARNAGE was the cockroach that tried to pull a jack move on my zebra cake. Not a good sign. Now SLIPPERY WHEN WET... there's a good sign.

According to Nintendo Power, "Totally Cool Eric of Head of the Class makes the grade with Nintendo."

"I got a D+ in Kid Icarus."

I really can't stress enough how much slippery polish assfuck CARNAGE sucks. If I try any harder to shit on this abyssmal excuse for a gorefest, I'm gonna pop a vein in my forehead and bleed to death on the toilet. To rent it willingly is to invite screaming napalm death. Do yourself a favor and go to choir practice: triple bypass this raging shit inferno at all costs.


Our Rating System

Z-man: "Rent CARNAGE and you'll probably need a tampon to stop the bleeding. The Surgeon General warns that CARNAGE is hazardous to your health. CARNAGE caused cancer in lab rats, an unwanted pregnancy in a parrot named Jo Jo, and caused me to get a 26 in Political Science. Thanks a lot, asshole!"

Eagle Te: "I don't want to sound queer or nothin', but I think unicorns are kick ass."

El Santo: "Go ninja go ninja go!"

Merciful Buddha!