Run Time: 96 minutes
Production Company: A-PIX ENTERTAINMENT
Director: Vincent Roberts
Starring: Eddie Bowz, Monique Mann, and WES CRAVEN (!?!)
T & A: Hell No
My Wish: Your Command
"Now I'm Playing With Power!" Those thoughts shot through your mind like rice out of an infected Chinese ass when you took that stupid Nintendo Power Glove off the shelf at SEARS... Remember how you tried to pretend it was fun for the first few days? Like you actually enjoyed playing with that shit, even when your friends laughed at you? Or how about the time when your brother put on YOUR power glove, pushed B, A, SELECT, START, and then dug in his ass with it? You felt like a total fucking moron about that decision you made early in life. You tried to supress those feelings deep inside (after all, it's about supression) and never let them hurt you again. You tried to work past the pain and show everybody exactly who was playing with power: WILL POWER.
Well here at the NIGHT OF THE CREEPS, a similar drama unfolded when fellow Creep (and ditch digging shit slave) EL SANTO took one too many hits off the Boba Fett bong and lurched out of Ditchdigger Video with a copy of A-PIX ENTERTAINMENT's tour de fuck "THE FEAR" clutched in his grubby fist. Seeing how I was the only one around Snake Mountain that fateful night (everyone else had tickets to Montel), I tried to talk some fucking sense into him. But then he got this weird look in his eye. The same look he got when he started talking about the time he caught Cookie Monster masturbating on his Autobot bean bag during VH1's BEHIND THE MUSIC: MENUDO. So, I decided to retreat behind my Bulletproof Plexiglass Pope-a-Matic Bubbledome and watch the carnage from a safe distance. I knew it wouldn't be fucking pretty. After all, it was A-PIX.
But god damn if I thought it would be that fucking bad. THE FEAR turned out to be one of those experiences that I try to completely block out of my conscious. Like that time I saw "WHO'S THAT GIRL?" in theaters. Or that time I got caught in a snare at Fat Kid Camp and beaten with canoe paddles til I shit my pants. Or that time I broke my hooded Cobra Commander's thumb because I tried to get him to hold He-Man's battle axe. Mother fuck EL SANTO with a battle action playset for picking this soul-stealing ass-jammer. Ten FLAG POINTS to the first bastard who breaks his goddamn spine!
Of course, I realize that I'm not going to get out of here without divulging some of the plot of THE FEAR, so here goes: Psychology Graduate student RICHARD (his friends call him Dick) has the brilliant idea of hosting a special "encounter group" for fellow students that wish to face their personal phobias and fears. He gets about 8 morons with phobias ranging from drowning, to failure, to having sex with pinatas on Cinco De Mayo. Frankly, they all suck ass.... but that's OK, because they're all gonna fucking die anyway, right? Anyway- once arriving at the rustic mountain cabin for the encounter group, Kool & The Gang discovers an aging cigar store indian statue inside a secret compartment. The Indian statue, Morty (which belonged to Richard's father for perverse sexual rituals and/or Yahoo Internet Chat) apparently has the supernatural ability to understand people's deepest fears and become animated by them. So what we eventually have is a six foot wooden doll who terrorizes the encounter group with his Apache Puss hijinx before rounding them all up into a nearby Amusement Park (?) and killing them off one at a time.
Now wait right there. I know what your fucking thinking. "That sounds pretty cool!" Yeah, that's what I thought at first. Then the opening credits finished and the movie started. For the first HOUR of this movie: NOTHING HAPPENS. No swimming. No diving. No fucking. No killing. NOTHING. No wait, nothing but sharing. SHARING! An hour long bullshit session where people expose their lame-ass phobias and pretend to be liberated by them. I think I saw that on RICKI LAKE last week. Oh wait, my bad, that was "FAT BITCH CLOTHE THYSELF!" and it was twice as entertaining as this pile of shit. And half as long, too. This motherfucker drags on forever. That 96 minute tag you see up at the top of the screen? That shit ain't in earth minutes- because when I fell asleep EL SANTO was fucking the dog and when I woke up she pulled a puppy surprise on all of us and pumped out 16 happy scrappy circus pups out of her swollen ass: but THE FEAR wasn't over. Hell, even when the killing STARTED (during the last 15 minutes of showtime) it was weak as hell. Morty did little more than wobble around and gouge people who strayed off screen. No onscreen gore. No cool kills. Yes, there was one cool dance sequence when Morty did "The Robot" in order to save the orphanage from those strip mall developers... but it definitely wasn't enough. Hell, it would have taken a 12 minute music video of Josie & The Pussycats performing oral sex on Huffer and Destro to save this fucking turd of a horror film. I'd sooner suck the infectious butternut ass schmeg out of a panda's infected prostate that suffer through this abomination unto Zod again. Kiss her goodbye, shit head: this flick's fucked.
Our Rating System
Z-man:"Quite possibly the best film that A-PIX ever made: and it still sucks dick. Kids, that should tell you something right there. Like almost all things that have crept out of A-PIX's diseased rectum: THE FEAR had a concept that held such promise.... but was totally screwed as soon as the cameras started rolling. Take this weak shit and dropkick it off a fucking pier."
El Santo:"The only Fear associated with this fucking movie involves the director's dick, some hot coals, and a bunny named Bumpy! You figure it out!"
THE FEAR: YE OLD SHIT LISTE INDUCTEE (3/26/99)