Woodyanders Review of Mad Ron's Prevues from Hell

Mad Ron's Prevues from Hell (1987 Video)

A terrifically trashy compilation of choice lurid trailers

[9/10 · 19 September 2010]

Deranged projectionist Mad Ron (essayed with suitably unhinged drooling panache by Ron Roccia) shows a movie theater full of rowdy grunting zombies a diverse assortment of wild, slimy, and graphic horror and exploitation film trailers from his private collection while nerdy ventriloquist Nick Pawlow and his foul-mouthed zombie dummy Happy Goldsplatt provide amusingly lowbrow comic relief. The trailers cover all the essential pleasingly sleazy bases: giallo (Dario Argento's "Deep Red"), Nazisploitation (the notorious "Ilsa: She-Wolf of the SS"), zombies ("Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things," "Horror of the Zombies," "Bloodeaters"), classic drive-in horror ("Night of the Living Dead," "The Last House on the Left," "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre"), mondo shock docs ("Africa - Blood and Guts"), hardcore splatter ("I Drink Your Blood"), anthology flicks ("Tales from the Crypt"), demonic possession ("Beyond the Door," "The House of Exorcism"), and slasher romps (the seasonal slice'n'dice trailblazer "Silent Night, Evil Night"). Herschell Gordon Lewis fans will be in hog heaven thanks to the spectacularly grimy'n'grisly coming attractions for "The Wizard of Gore," "Blood Feast," "2000 Maniacs," and "The Wizard of Gore." A faux newsreel promo for a doublebill of "The Blood Splattered Bride" and "I Dismember Mama" is a totally over-the-top hoot and a half while the outrageously bawdy trailer for "Wildcat Women" rates as arguably the raunchiest of the whole sublimely sordid lot. Moreover, the wrap-around segments deliver plenty of tacky gore (zombies sprinkle blood on buckets of popcorn, one zombie rips another's eye out, a would-be bootlegger's eyes blow up real good and squirt the red stuff all over the place, etc.) and a handy helping of cheerfully shameless and tasteless humor. The crude shot-on-video cinematography, the cheesy shuddery synthesizer score, and primitive dime-store make-up effects add to rather than detract from the infectiously scroungy charm of the entire seamy enterprise. A sensationally scuzzy and unapologetic serving of prime putrid grindhouse slop.