FLESHEATER (1988)
Dated research suggested that a person's personality was determined by which half of the brain was more dominant. That research has since been debunked, but let's run with it for a moment. This website has never been fettered by the manacles of science. The fact is, I'm of two minds. The creative, free-spirited side of my brain will tell you that Bill Hinzman's FleshEater is a precocious nugget of zombie-fried entertainment. And evidence supports this hypothesis. The gore is soupy, the boob shots are plentiful, and our main baddie even goes to the trouble of biting into an innocent child. However, the cold, analytical side of my brain will tell you just the opposite. And further evidence could be brought forth, such as the inert pacing and the gaggle of dull characters.
So you can appreciate my inner conflict. I can see putting FleshEater on at a Halloween party, and the guests - preferably besotted (or soused, if you prefer) - wouldn't complain. Much. But there is a part of me that wants to excoriate this dude's audacity. He claims that this flick is technically an offshoot of Night of the Living Dead, that the events follow his nameless ghoul from the beginning of said classic. Right. I mean, I can't say I blame the guy. He's merely milking his claim to fame, but at the same time, he is no George Romero. At its worst, FleshEater feels like a z-romp stitched together by someone who has only seen the trailers of zombie movies. At its best, it would make for a great trailer, provided that it was whittled down to three minutes. I call it a draw.
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