There is a reason that some film directors are regarded as maestros of the genre, whereas others are relegated to cult status, and so by extension are their products mere cult fodder. This 1972 film sits firmly and comfortably in the latter category.
With all the scares of ‘Scooby-Doo’, plus some of the wardrobe, director Bob Clark ‘s Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things strives for more horror subversion than it actually achieves.
Garish and silly, with some appalling acting, it’s questionable how much of a parody it’s actually supposed to be. The trailer sets out a sort of knowing playfulness, but the film is ridiculous: where Romero succeeded in satirising the violence endemic in American society and Argento was the master of reinvention, the film looks (just like the wayward zombies) rather anaemic by comparison.
With the classic set-up in place – a group of young groovy hipsters play with voodoo ritual and rue the consequences – there’s no suspense, and nobody to really invest time in. They’re a pretty entitled, obnoxious bunch, this lot, a bunch of arrogant theatre kids who want to re-enact spooky goings-on, but the whole film is a mess of obvious plotline and underbaked execution(s). Alan, played by Alan Ormsby, is supposed to be a proto-edgelord, but he’s a flouncing, dumbass Shaggy, right down to his neckerchief and flares. Orville Dunworth (Seth Sklarey) is somewhat miffed at having been dug up by those pesky kids. They’re picked off one by one. And so on, lather, rinse, repeat the formula.
It’s quite something when the zombies are more articulate than the leads, and the make-up looks amateurish, with what looks like breakfast cereal applied to face packs applied to faces. Carl Zittrer’s music sounds like a Casio with the settings gone rogue , which is hilarious. There’s even what sounds like cows mooing in one scene.
Was Bob Clark making a commentary on the need for disenfranchised student kids to dabble in the dark arts in order to assuage their ennui, or was he just taking the piss? It’s hard to tell, really. Cult status isn’t always for reasons that are engaging. This is beyond camp and possibly so bad it’s good, if you’re in the mood for nonsense.
Hit The North 