Cody’s devout mother has a large tumor growing in her lung. Her piety believes will cure her from the ailment or so says the televised evangelical priest Brother Fogg who once listened to her plea. When she coughs up the tumor onto the kitchen floor one night, the relieved woman becomes ecstatic having been miraculous cured by brother Fogg’s channeling of the holy spirit and her $20 donation to him but little does she know that the tumor is actually a blood lusting demon that slithers down Cody’s sleeping throat, turning the young man zombified and obedient to the demon’s ever starvation for human blood and flesh in order to grow. Inhabiting Cody’s house like a shell and monstrous with tentacles and large teeth chomping from out of cupboards and the top loading washing machine, Cody heads out into the world to brutally murder his own boss, friends, and even family to serve and feed the abomination living in his home.
Tantamount to “A Little Shop of Horrors” and released the very same year as the Rick Moranis remake of the original Roger Corman killer-plant picture, writer-director Bret McCormick waters to grow his gelatinous creature-feature “The Abomination” onto the home video market. Ultra-violent and gory against the more, what would be considered in comparison, family-friendly and Hollywood produced rowdy giant flytrap ravenous to devour victims, “The Abomination” is by no means a musical but delivers a tone of tentacle-laden terror around a subtle theme of mental health. Shot in Poolville, Texas, from the then future filmmaker of “Repligator” and “Highway to Hell” under his pseudonym of Max Raven, the guts-galore indie was also produced by McCormick as well as with longtime partner Matt Devlen, director of “Ozone: The Attack of the Redneck Mutants” and producer of “The Upstairs Neighbor” with “Woodchip Massacre” and “Cannibal Hookers’” Donna Michelle Productions picking up the film for at-home VHS distribution rights.
However unlikely it may seem with these types of splatter films and with a cast credited with different stage names and pseudonyms, “The Abomination” is undoubtedly a family affair. Bret McCormick has employed a great deal of his once intact family into filmic roles as creature fodder, which some of us would like to dish up on a daily basis. Well, McCormick did it from his brother Brad McCormick as Ike, mother Victoria Chaney (“Christmas Craft Fair Massacre”), former father-in-law Van Connery, and even his wife, now ex-wife, Blue Thompson (“Ozone: The Attack of the Redneck Mutants,” “Highway to Hell”). Relatives appear game to be in a next-to-nothing splatter horror that offers a soup kitchen of out of body organs being pitchforked fed into gaping jaws living a cupboard. Performances render suitably as bored rural clodhoppers who fear God, work at junkyards, and give into evangelical sermon with Cody (Scott Davis) and his friends often the more sensible foursome of youth yearning for fun and beer as they race down dirt roads and yuk it up on the back of their 4×4 truck beds. All of the dialogue is done in post with ADR and so we’re not offered the actors’ original gutturals, conversations, and screams with the silver lining in the audio track being a clean post-principals photography recording of the dialogue. One shortcoming of the dialogue track lies with Cody’s mother Sarah, played by Jude Johnson (“Tabloid”), with earsplitting screams set on linger as she discovers the truth. With a small, intimate cast with most being within McCormick’s inner circle, every character is essentially core to the story with the rest being rounded out with performances from Suzy Meyer, Gaye Bottoms, Matt Devlen, and Rex Morton as the equivocally moral televangelist Brother Fogg.
There’s something to be said for low-budget, do-it-yourself, indie horror films with exaggerated and practical special effects. “The Abomination” is one of those said features that’s’ more splatter than substance but the splatter and the palpable puppetry are the driving force behind McCormick’s attempt to enter the gonzo-gory market of cost nothing commodities popular at the time. “The Abomination” evokes the very truth of the titular creature without being ambiguously metaphorical, becoming a character, much like Audrey II in “The Little Shop of Horrors,” in itself even if it didn’t talk or sing with boisterously briar. Before delving into the core narrative, skipping the opening dream sequence/montage may be in your favor as the series of random images of grotesque violence, splatter, and such sum up the film’s entirety in a disordered delusion of dreams. If you can fast forward the montage, the opening secondary setup of Cody and Dr. Russell’s voiceover conversation will suitably add the necessary layer to peel back not only to expose the carnages to come but also sneaks in a thought-provoking twist that will leave audiences reeling over the bookend voiceover conversation between a distraught Cody and the doctor in the final moments. Not to be exceedingly overshadowed by the immense deluge of blood, the pint size pivot juts out like a nail in a floorboard, insignificant across the entire square footage but once you step on it, the punctured wound leaves an unforgettable impression that makes the entire floor feel the need to be tiptoed around because of the dreadful sensation of sharp, pointy objects covering the entire area. Narratively, the linear structure works as a son and his mother struggling on the precipice of her cancerous death while believing the televangelist Brother Fogg’s wisdom and spiritual healing will come to her rescue before her demise, but the one element that doesn’t quite work, or is more so unclear, is Brother Fogg’s part in the much darker side of the abomination’s arrival. In scene, Fogg’s has all the hallmarks of a fire and brimstone swindler but no other clues hint to his involvement in the scourge spawn other than a few dropped lines by other indirect characters that more disconnect the dots then link them.
You have to continue to love Visual Vengeance for their pastime presentation of splatter and obscure VHS films. “The Abomination” slithers out of incubation as one of their latest releases onto a full-bodied Blu-ray with new artwork, new bonus features, and a new high-definition transfer! The AVC encoded, 1080p, BD50 is presented in a 1.33:1 aspect ratio. McCormick filmed “The Abomination” on Super 8 but had converted the feature through a U-matic VHS playback, resulting in two very different technical looks with the grainy celluloid of a Super 8 integrated into the softer gauze and tape degradation of VHS. We usually see this in the reverse with modern releases being played back through VHS to obtain that SOV/retro look. Visual Vengeance continues to preface all their releases with a warning of quality with their obtaining the best possible standard definition tape masters that may still render poor video and audio quality. A/V does convey a softer simulacrum and a pallid color palette with the occasional tracking lines and even seldom frame damage, but the overall finished product is visually rock solid. The English Dolby Digital stereo mix has the same pallidity as the video but is balanced within the amplification ilk where fading or becoming distorted is virtually nonexistent. Automated dialogue replacement as well as overstepping foley is evident from the start that does provide an undertow of clear consistency without fluctuation. Soundtrack and sound design by Kim and Richard Davis and John Hudek really shines through with a pulsating ghoulish synth-piano key that hints at giallo undertones. Optional English subtitles are available. Visual Vengeance really did outdo themselves with sizeable supplementals beginning with a pair of commentary: Bret McCormick joins Visual Vengeance’s Rob Hauschild and Matt Desiderio while Tony Strauss of Weng’s Chop Magazine goes solo. There’s also a new feature-length interview with McCormick Monster Kid Movie Maverick that entails McCormick starting his life story from Super 8 home movies to the present, a new interview with Blue Thompson, a new interview with Victoria Chaney, and an interview with Michael Jack Shoel of the original Donna Michelle Productions’ VHS distributor. McCormick provides a new location tour between his involvement in “The Abomination” and “Ozone,” raw footage of the testing the tumor and the death of Cody’s boss, McCormick’s Super 8 movies from his youth, a multi-page text screen interview with “The Abomination,” a behind the scenes image gallery, and a trailer archive. Release number 10 on the spine, this Visual Vengeance piece of home video art comes with The Dude Designs’, aka Tom Hodge’s, illustrated rendition of “The Abomination” with phallic tentacles, blood-stained teeth, and a mustard yellow title. Sheathed inside is an even more beautiful front cover art adapted from the iconic scene that left a lasting impression with this reviewer. The uncredited cover, or uncredited because I could not locate the signature or the credit, possesses more depth in detail than the comic book-esque slipcover, a comparable contending front cover from the original VHS art on the reverse side. Visual Vengeance provides hefty insert material that not only includes their staple retro sticker sheet but also a 14-page, black and white official comic book illustrated by Marc Gras, a trifold essay entitled The Tumor that Came to Fort Worth: Apocalypse on a Budget by Tony Strauss, and a folded mini-poster of the front-facing cover art inside the clear Blu-ray case. The disc art has the same The Dude Design slipcover art cropped to fit the BR disc. Bret McCormick fed his ferociously tumorous feature with all that he had, spellbinding with shocking serration, and now three and half decades later, Visual Vengeance celebrates McCormick’s cancerous creature with one hell of a soul-swallowing souvenir!
It's Bloggin Evil! 