"Easter Bunny Kill! Kill!" is one of those glorious gruefests that leaves you to your own emotiona-moral devices, unaware of whether you should laugh or cringe or both.
"Easter Bunny Kill! Kill!" starring Timothy Muskatell + Charlotte Marie + David Z. Stamp + Trent Haaga
directed by CHAD FERRIN [On DVD through Breaking Glass Pictures/Vicious Circle Films]
"Easter Bunny Kill! Kill!" is one of those glorious gruefests that leaves you to your own emotional/moral devices, unaware of whether you should laugh or cringe or both. Director Chad Ferrin is a cat who likes to press the buttons of the sensitive. He is an adept at it. And it is that expert flourish that makes EBKK more than a horror movie, more than mere shock cinema--something seriously fucking spectacular and every bit as seldom as a lunar eclipse.
The story concerns a single mother and her mentally-retarded son Nicholas, who suffers from cerebral palsy and flights of furry fancy in which he believes a caged bunny rabbit to be the Easter Bunny incarnate. Nicholas's mother has fallen, quite inexplicably, for a greasy brusque criminal with mutton chops by the name of Remington Rashkor (and appropriately purulent name for the bilious character played with gusto by Ferrin regular Timothy Muskatell).
When Remington coerces Nicholas into telling his mother they should all live together (with threats that he will break the easter bunny's neck), Mom decides to leave Nicholas in Rem's care while she scampers off to work as a candy stripe nurse. And this is where the demented whirlwind of craziness begins, having its end only when a series of sickos have met their maker at the hands of an apparent guardian angel in a bunny mask, a guardian angel with a serious axe to grind. Well, not an axe. More like power tools, ball peen hammers and anything other household item that can be wielded as a weapon.
As mentioned before, EBKK is a hoot, a really fun cinematic experience despite the touchy subject matter and gristly scenarios that play out. Remington's song about hookers and cocaine is a tour-de-force, to be sure. And so, too, is the third act revelation. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Every review or interview I've come across regarding this little gem hoists major accolades at Timothy Muskatell for his hilariously perverted portrayal of Rem. But, strangely, nobody seems to have mentioned the Peter Lorre-worthy turn by David Z. Stamp as handi-capable sex toy-wielding child molestor Ray. His labored breathing, Max Shreck fingernails and satchel of sex swag provide the first truly threatening moment in the film. It is Ray, not the equally menacing but already well-publicized Remington, who acts as the true catalyst that kickstarts the Hare from Hell's battery of bloody outbursts.
There I said it. Props to Mr. Z. Stamp!
EBKK is a flick suitable for a drinking game. Take a shot every time something ribald is said or an eyeball is shed. You'll probably be stone drunk by the time you hear Mr. Rashkor's hilarious demand of, "Hey, keep the tops off! I got coke!"
The buzzsaw scene is a tasty triumph of flawless editing and grue-oozing expressionism that will go down as one of the gnarliest kills of the decade.
The atmosphere when the hookers (you'll see) are in the house is classic Carpenter, but Ferrin ups the ante with an awesome dose of absurdity as Remington beats the heck out of a man who has already suffered a similarly fatal bastinato at the hands of the Easter Bunny. And the unharmed whore makes an off-color and idiotic inquiry that will have you counting down to when, hopefully, she'll just fucking die already.
Like the golden age of the slasher film each kill in EBKK is more fun than the last, with one in particular giving new meaning to the phrase, "Deep throat."
EBKK is one of those flicks that words just can't do justice (though we still try). When you refer it to a friend and they ask you what it's about you tell 'em, "Just see the damn thing, it's fucking nuts!" This flick is sure to satiate your funny bone, your blood lust and your thirst for wholesome good old-fangled midnight madness.
From Charlotte Marie as the hottest mom to ever don a nurse's outfit, to Remington Rashkor's ultimate handlebar mustache, "Easter Bunny, Kill! Kill!" is a killer cult film experience that revels in the kind of unorthodox irreverence that is beyond refreshing in these P.C. times.