Slither review

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With everyone so busy either remaking (The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, The Hills Have Eyes) or remoulding (The Descent, Wolf Creek) those bold, bludgeoning horror movies of the ’70s, writer-director James Gunn has spied a gap – nay, a chasm – in the market: the comedy-horrors of the early ’80s. And so he’s birthed Slither – a loving tribute to The Evil Dead, Basket Case and Re-Animator… by way of ’50s sci-fi, Cronenbergian body horror and Screaming Mad George’s (Society) liquid prosthetics.

The premise is hokum, 100 percent proof, as Michael Rooker’s body swells and blisters and ruptures before settling into the form of a 20ft squid. Dipping his writhing tentacles into local lass Brenda (Brenda James), she then proceeds to turn into a barn-sized beachball before giving explosive birth to a thousand claret slugs. Let the epidemic begin…

Derivative, glib, throwaway, and thoroughly entertaining. A knowing genre movie aimed at fans of Tremors or Lake Placid.

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