Run Time: 89 minutes
Production Company: Titanus Produzione
Director: Lamberto Bava (A Blade In The Dark, Demons 2, Demons 3)
Starring: Natasha Hovey, Urbano Barberini, Fiore Argento, and Demons. Lots of Demons.
T & A: Trick or Teat
You're Gonna Get Your Wish: Go Fish
Cult Classic: a phrase that gets passed around more than your sister in a Choctaw Sweat Lodge. And while I'd gladly trade a papoose full of beads and trinkets for a piece of that ass- I can't get over the fact that so many piss-poor horror flicks managed to have this title magically bestowed upon them. Try convincing me that flicks like C.H.U.D. or BRAIN DAMAGE are anything more than maggot-eaten piles of syphilitic dick cheese and I'll pistol whip you so hard you'll need a goddamn telethon. You want a Cult Classic? Try a shootout with federal agents. Or wearing matching jumpsuits. Or drinking Sharkleberry Fin Kool Aid laced with cyanide. Just get this weak-ass horror trash out of my face before I pull a Triumphant Mace of the Bat out of my fanny pack +2 and beat you to fucking death with it.
That being said, when I overheard a toothy old sherpa at Go Ninja Go Ninja Go Video hailing an obscure 80s Italian splatter flick called DEMONI as a cult classic, you could say I had my doubts. In fact, you could say I was suspicious... if it wasn't for that fucking lisp of yours. But since BIG TITTY SLAMMERS was checked out and LAND BEFORE TIME X: THE GREAT LONGNECK MIGRATION doesn't come out til October, I figured what the hell. So I asked the honky behind the counter to show me DEMONI...
After spin-kicking the copy of JERRY MAGUIRE out of his hands and knocking his brain out the back of his motherfucking skull with a Buddha Palm, I found the DVD, hopped on my magic goose, gave two honks for the West Side, and engaged VTOL takeoff.
But 6 miles south of the Isle of Lesbos I got a feeling. A not-so-fresh-feeling that, strangely enough, had nothing to do with getting that rim job from Master Splinter behind Happy China Buffet. I was nervous. I was sure that movie night was gonna be a bust. No doubt DEMONI was going to be the latest 12-gauge turd to hit YE OLDE SHIT LIST and my name, like so much sinew, was going to be attached to it. There was no way this flick could live up to the hype?
People: this flick was a motherfucking riot. And I'm not just saying that because I got pepper sprayed and hit in the mouth with a baton halfway through it. That was because I spoke out against Fiesta Jalepeno Poppers (TM).
But how to convince you, the snot-nosed meatbags of the Creep Empire of this fact? It's not going to be easy, because...to be honest... there isn't enough snortable cocaine on the planet Earth to make sense of DEMONI's plot. But I'm going to make a (prince) valiant attempt anyway- so pull up a chair ...preferrably that monogrammed beanbag one crusted in pig jizzum... and prepare to get thy learn on.
!ACHTUNG! A metal-faced fucktard is passing out free passes to a sneak preview at Berlin's hottest new theater: THE METROPOL. The movie they're screening (POOH'S HEFFALUMP)isn't important... but what's lurking in the lobby is: A SWORD-WIELDING STATUE OF A NINJA ON A FUCKING MOTORCYCLE. And clutched in its outstretched hand? THE SILVER DEATH MASK OF THE DEMON: an artifact of incredible, soul-bending evil. Don't ask how it got there. Or where babies come from (Big Lots). Or who stole that pack of Rolo from your acid-washed denim tote during Pilates class. If I told you, your head would explode.
Anyway- one thing leads to another and the mask transforms a hapless prostitute (who looks suspiciously like Rick James, Bitch) into a snaggle-toothed, flesh-hungry monster. When she goes apeshit and starts killing the patrons, they try to escape.... only to realize that all the exits have been magically bricked up. So, trapped inside a theater with an ever-growing army of ravenous satanic gremlins, the rag-tag group of theatergoers are forced to band together in a desperate fight for their lives.
And if that isn't enough to put tits on a yeti, let's examine some of the finer points of DEMONI.
It's got: WIDESPREAD PANIC.
And no, I'm not talking about that fucking jam band, you patchouli-stank hippie fag. I'm talking about scenes of mass hysteria. Crowds running in terror. People trampling one another in an effort to escape danger. I honestly can't get enough of that shit. It's why I bought the 9/11 boxed set. The director's commentary is awesome. Derka Derka Derka, Mohammed Jihad.
It's got: POSITIONS BEING FORTIFIED.
Personally, I've always loved it when victims try to defend themselves. It's so cute.
You've got: THE CLAP.
Not to mention my copy of PUTT PUTT SAVES THE ZOO. Word is bond, I need that shit back with the quickness.
It's got: INTENSE FUCKING GORE.
Scalpings, hangings, hands shot off, throats torn out, eyeballs gouged, fingers bitten off, 8-ball sized pustules popping, backs exploding, helicopter-blade mutilations, and enough ninja-sword inflicted deaths to make Sho Kosugi shit shuriken to the break of dawn. Red Dawn. WOLVERINES!!!!
It's got: INTENSE FUCKING PIMP.
What do you call the only black man in Berlin? Your Highness.
It's got: INTENSE FUCKING.
No wait. My bad. That was the cast party for the finale of ALF. I don't know about cats, but that alien life form can sure eat pussy. Just ask Kate Tanner.
It's got: TITTY.
Now some of my fellow Creeps may disagree with me on this- but the movie's got titty. I'm not saying it's quality titty (due to the fact that they're attached to the ugliest goddamn treasure troll I've ever seen)... but you put tits on a stegosaurus and they're still tits. They count. So do I. And by my count, I'd say it looks you like you've got an extra chromosome there, Corky. Now shut up and bag my fucking groceries before I get you fired.
But all is not sunshine rainbow sugarfuck and sharing cotton candy with ICE T. For all its google-eyed insanity, Demons takes about a half an hour while to really get going. But stick with that shit- because from the moment the first demon zit pops to the final shotgun blast this movie is, what we in the industry call, a
Our Rating System
Mr. Paul: "A fucking backflipping, bootlicking, bush munching good time with enough demon on demon action to make your forget about you argument with Mannix on the Tilt-a-Whirl. Watch out for Rick James beeyatch!"
Z-man: "You know you want it. And by it, I mean your head clapped by Abobo Verde."
Ookla The Mok: "Mr. T Ate My Balls"
General Zod: "My doctor said Mylanta. I said my ass. Then he said 'Mylantaaaaa!'. And then I drew a picture of a duck on the sanitary paper and peed on the floor."
Living Legend Hong Fu Ding says: "Your titty dishonors Shaolin."