Jack Brooks: Monster Slayer

What is the best anger management program for someone who has witnessed his family slain in one's childhood by a hideous monster and has blamed himself for not having been able to do something to save them? Meditation? Yoga? Pilates? Yolates? Gay exercise videos? Wrong: it's professional monster slaying. The bottled up emotions that might complicate everyday life can be used effectively to annihilate various monsters and thusly to achieve great therapeutic effect combined with social beneficence.

That's The Monster Slayer in a nutshell. It's a campy, smooth old-school gore-fest, but it's well executed and acted in spite of the fact that the cup of the budget runneth not over. Good old Robert Englund delivers a tour de force over the top charleslaughtonian performance which is a delight. Rachel Skarsten is a perfectly nasty Barbie bitch from hell. Her high-pitched whining scene in the car is a total blast. Now the hero, Trevor Matthews, is someone to watch with attention. Methinks stardom might come knocking on the door any day soon.

A very nice 1980s style (i.e. trendy) flick makes a great 1,5 hour entertainment if it's not Hamlet you're really craving for.