Don’t Fuck in the Woods (2016)
Starring Brandy Mason, Scott Gillespie, Brittany Blanton
Directed by Shawn Burkett
It’s so blatantly apparent to me that my younger days have clearly passed me by, simply due to the fact that WAAY back when I used to cruise the horror section of the VHS rental joint near my home, I would have reveled in the notion of snagging a movie like Shawn Burkett’s Don’t Fuck In The Woods for a late-Saturday night watch. These days, with the overwhelming glut of films trying to represent the throwback look, the product is as stale as week-old bread on the shelf.
Paying homage to the creature-flicks from years ago, the film uses the “drugged-up meatsacks on a weekend retreat in the woods” premise to support this 70-minute presentation with a backbrace, and since I think we can agree that this has been done to death, I’ll applaud Burkett for the way the film looks, having that polished appearance while kneeling at the temple of some 80’s classic slash-fests. So we’ve got the aforementioned horny teens heading to the lush green wilderness to smoke, drink, fornicate, and whatever else adds to the illusion of disaffected youth, and not before long does a pseudo-Creature From The Black Lagoon region (must be a distant relative) lumber along and start dissecting this sweaty batch of horror aficionados. I could sit here and literally type all day about the landslide of boobs, drugs and f-bombs dropped all within the film’s runtime, but if you’re game enough to give this one a peek, then you’ll surely be able to encompass yourself in its debauchery.
Brittany Blanton is the film’s shining star, with her blinding good looks and ability to hold the screen down acting wise, she unfortunately doesn’t have much in the way of support – not too terrible of an issue, but this is an indie display, and you take what’s provided. Laughs are intended, although not delivered with much punch, and the gore could be seen as lackluster, especially for those who want their horror flick douched in crimson. Look, I know I might be coming off a BIT on the jaded side with this one, but for a guy whose eyes have laid witness to this premise umpteen times in the past, this one just didn’t hit the mark for me. Had this been 1984, and the days of when I was trying to cover up my boner in class with a heavy book, hell I’d have been all over it. Unfortunately, this fornication-forest-fest fell flatter than a fart on the freeway – F*** it, I’m done for the night.
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Film
Categorized:Reviews
