My review was written in October 1981 after a Midtown Manhattan screening.
Filmed in 1977 but recently picked up for distribution by Joe Gage's New American Films, "The Worm Eaters" is a grotesque horror comedy in the category of "intentionally bad" camp humor. Writer-director-star Herb Robins gives every indication of working in the vein of the late exploitation movie director Edward D. Wood Jr., but his film has enough outrageous laughs and gross-outs to captivate a minor segment of today's younger audience.
Robins portrays Hermann Umgar, a club-footed worm breeder living near Lake Melnick. Just as his dad had been cheated years before, Umgar is target of a real estate scheme whereby his land will be condemned by the city to make way for condominiums.
Though pic has a "serious theme" and much attempted pathos, Robins goes for intentional silliness, playing a poor man's Mel Brooks who sings and talks to his beloved worms (each with a pet name) while cracking Borscht Belt jokes. Supporting cast looks like people randomly recruited off the street, and they are encouraged to shout their inane dialog in an hilarious attempt at "acting".
Key requirement for main roles (including Robins') is a willingness to chomp real worms on camera. Gross closeups of the actors' mouths chewing disgusting food with live worms wriggling out of their choppers will no doubt amaze the younger patrons while striking adults as a new variant of pornography.
Pic gets really wild when Robins introduces a subplot of his worms somehow causing humans to turn into "worm people" (half man/half worm) when ingested. This sci-fi gimmick is hysterically realized, with the cast wriggling along the ground (resembling mermaids, the bottom half is a worm) and secreting shaving cream. Filmmaker's notion of irony has three fishermen turning into worm men and hooking Umgar (sleeping in his bed) to reel him in and demand that he bring them worm women to build a new, better civilization in the lake. A "red algae tide" on the lake's surface is the pic's big special visual effect.
Unlike the spate of comedy spoofs filling the horror market recently, Robins seems to be serious about his weirdness, including strange scenes of him dancing (in slow motion) to a music box with his worm Bertha dancing on his hand and a tasteless finale of himself being run over by a truck.
Technically the film is surprisingly watchable, being lensed in brightly lit 35mm with functionalism stressed rather than atmosphere. Beyond that, it's amateur night.
