The Boneyard is an odd, uneven mix from director and writer, James Cummins. There are elements to the script, however, that make it an interesting and almost creepy story, but poor pacing, monotonous dialog scenes, and somewhat laughable special effects get in the way.
The original idea, to take a world-weary, burned-out and overweight psychic investigator, toss in a background story about child demons that spend most of their time devouring anything that moves, and mix them together in an understaffed, and soon to be closed coroner's building late one night, would seem to be a solid one, and one ripe with horrific possibilities suitable for any gore-hound or horror-head. But...by the time we get to the demonized and giganticized poodle terrorizing everyone toward the end, well, you can see where best intentions may have gone astray.
The film opens with a drawn-out scene wherein our two stalwart detectives, well-played by Ed Nelson and James Eusterman, enter the psychic's house (Alley, played with little energy by Deborah Rose) looking for her help on a baffling case involving a mortician and what appear to be three dead children. After trying to convince her to help them, they leave, and later that night, she has a disturbing psychic vision involving a very putrescent little girl with lots of long, stringy blond hair-- it always amazes me how the hair never seems to be affected in these films--that wants very much to hug her and thank her for her help in a previous case. Since this promising and effective scene has nothing to do with the story per se, except to change Alley's mind about helping the detectives, it seems out of place.
Back in the police station, Alley and the detectives listen to the interrogation of the mortician, and hear how the mortician's family has, for three centuries, kept the three child-sized demons he refers to as Kyonshi, from devouring living people by feeding them body parts garnered from the funeral home's attendees.
The coroner's building is where the story kicks into gear with veteran performers Phyllis Diller and Norman Fell, but not before we are subjected to a confusing flashback experienced by Alley, and an interminable dialog sequence between the two detectives where nothing happens. Show me, don't tell me, and if you must tell me, at least make it interesting. Luckily, the script is included as an extra on the DVD, and reading the flashback scene explained how the family tried to resurrect their children three hundred years ago with disastrous results. But how the dialog sequence was kept in still eludes me. It reads just as boringly as it was to watch, and provided nothing to further the story along. Alley snaps back from the flashback into a a vision of the three little demons awakening downstairs in the morgue, putting the detectives and morgue attendants in imminent danger. Due to poor direction, little tension is generated as Alley hurriedly makes her way downstairs to warn them.
The scene she comes upon, with dead bodies strewn everywhere, gobs of blood across the floor, and the little hellions eating away (especially one gustily attacking an open rib-cage) is suddenly gory, horrific and exciting.
Yummy, don't you think? A great scene that stands out in an otherwise so-so endeavor. Its very gruesomeness is a sudden and unexpected jolt that brings us back to the story. Mayhem ensues as the survivors try to escape the onslaught. They trap and kill one little bugger, but he manages to stuff part of his skin down Poopinplatz's throat (yes, that's the name of Phyllis Diller's character). She, of course, turns into a very tall and pop-eyed puppet demon, that really needed more money and better lighting. But we admire the effort.
More mayhem as they dispatch the tall, pop-eyed demon puppet. But then Floosoms, Poopinplatz's dog (yes, you read it right), licks up some deliciously bubbling yellow ichor oozing from a dispatched demon, and, of course, turns into the man-in-a-suit Floosoms' demon. One of the characters even lets out a laugh upon seeing the poodle demon, which I grant you, is a difficult subject to make horrific. Perhaps the director was anticipating the audience resistance to the concept, and had this character reflect our own disbelief.
In the midst of all this carnage, once again the story stops to allow a dialog exchange between two characters that does nothing to move the story along. Instead, we hear whys and wherefores, and the action grinds to a halt as we get unneeded background information. Alley and Floosoms finally square off, and the ending contains no sequelization-antics to spoil it.
The original idea, to take a world-weary, burned-out and overweight psychic investigator, toss in a background story about child demons that spend most of their time devouring anything that moves, and mix them together in an understaffed, and soon to be closed coroner's building late one night, would seem to be a solid one, and one ripe with horrific possibilities suitable for any gore-hound or horror-head. But...by the time we get to the demonized and giganticized poodle terrorizing everyone toward the end, well, you can see where best intentions may have gone astray.
The film opens with a drawn-out scene wherein our two stalwart detectives, well-played by Ed Nelson and James Eusterman, enter the psychic's house (Alley, played with little energy by Deborah Rose) looking for her help on a baffling case involving a mortician and what appear to be three dead children. After trying to convince her to help them, they leave, and later that night, she has a disturbing psychic vision involving a very putrescent little girl with lots of long, stringy blond hair-- it always amazes me how the hair never seems to be affected in these films--that wants very much to hug her and thank her for her help in a previous case. Since this promising and effective scene has nothing to do with the story per se, except to change Alley's mind about helping the detectives, it seems out of place.
Back in the police station, Alley and the detectives listen to the interrogation of the mortician, and hear how the mortician's family has, for three centuries, kept the three child-sized demons he refers to as Kyonshi, from devouring living people by feeding them body parts garnered from the funeral home's attendees.
The coroner's building is where the story kicks into gear with veteran performers Phyllis Diller and Norman Fell, but not before we are subjected to a confusing flashback experienced by Alley, and an interminable dialog sequence between the two detectives where nothing happens. Show me, don't tell me, and if you must tell me, at least make it interesting. Luckily, the script is included as an extra on the DVD, and reading the flashback scene explained how the family tried to resurrect their children three hundred years ago with disastrous results. But how the dialog sequence was kept in still eludes me. It reads just as boringly as it was to watch, and provided nothing to further the story along. Alley snaps back from the flashback into a a vision of the three little demons awakening downstairs in the morgue, putting the detectives and morgue attendants in imminent danger. Due to poor direction, little tension is generated as Alley hurriedly makes her way downstairs to warn them.
The scene she comes upon, with dead bodies strewn everywhere, gobs of blood across the floor, and the little hellions eating away (especially one gustily attacking an open rib-cage) is suddenly gory, horrific and exciting.
Yummy, don't you think? A great scene that stands out in an otherwise so-so endeavor. Its very gruesomeness is a sudden and unexpected jolt that brings us back to the story. Mayhem ensues as the survivors try to escape the onslaught. They trap and kill one little bugger, but he manages to stuff part of his skin down Poopinplatz's throat (yes, that's the name of Phyllis Diller's character). She, of course, turns into a very tall and pop-eyed puppet demon, that really needed more money and better lighting. But we admire the effort.
More mayhem as they dispatch the tall, pop-eyed demon puppet. But then Floosoms, Poopinplatz's dog (yes, you read it right), licks up some deliciously bubbling yellow ichor oozing from a dispatched demon, and, of course, turns into the man-in-a-suit Floosoms' demon. One of the characters even lets out a laugh upon seeing the poodle demon, which I grant you, is a difficult subject to make horrific. Perhaps the director was anticipating the audience resistance to the concept, and had this character reflect our own disbelief.
In the midst of all this carnage, once again the story stops to allow a dialog exchange between two characters that does nothing to move the story along. Instead, we hear whys and wherefores, and the action grinds to a halt as we get unneeded background information. Alley and Floosoms finally square off, and the ending contains no sequelization-antics to spoil it.