Thanksgiving is
about turkeys, and I'm not just talking about golden ones! Anybody
who has ever read this blog should know that the biggest, baddest, and
best horror turkey film ever made, and of all time is "Blood
Freak," so upon Zilligord's suggestion (I'm desperate for friends), I hereby decree that from this
day forward, every year on this day, we will pay homage to "Blood
Freak," as long as this blog is alive! So, here's the original post from 2009, have a great holiday, turkey!
Hello once again dear friends. It is I, Zillagord, Cub Reviewer, coming
to you with another… wait a second! Breaking news! This just in: I
have been informed that I am being promoted from Cub Reviewer to a newly
created post: Maven Turkey Knocker!?!? WTF is THAT? This bears
further inspection. I have been told it comes with a slight raise in
pay (I guess my chickenfeed salary becomes turkey feed) and that EEGAH
and TABONGA will turn a blind eye to my rapacious raids on the lunchroom
icebox. Wow, sounds good! What’s the catch?
With a great new job comes great responsibility! This flick is just about the kookiest celluloid catastrophe ever. It’s beyond bad, cats and kittens: It’s real REAL GONE! Where to start: this nutty Butterball defies all the usual horror film conventions. It doesn’t even have a prologue! What is does have is this dude:
That’s director/co-writer Brad Grinter as the narrator, chain-smoking and nonsensically riffing his way through the flick. Oh, and reading. Yeah, dude actually doesn’t know his lines, so he frequently consults… well, it’s hard to say… script might be too functional of a term in this case. I suspect this film was crayon-scrawled on the back of a paper placemat from Stuckey’s. Brad is also the director of the classic FLESH FEAST, and he made his acting debut in DEATH CURSE OF TARTU. With that pedigree, how could he miss with this effort? Lemme tell ya, friends, he was just getting’ warmed up with those flicks: this one is WAY wide of the mark!
“The one constant in this world is that things change. There is order in change in that one thing leads to the next thing, and one seemingly random event can affect the course of the future.” He had to read this gobbledygook?? Real imitation wood paneling is more interesting…
Here’s our hero, Herschel (Steve Hawkes, who also co-scribbled the placemat). According to the narrator, “He’s strong, he’s handsome, and he enjoys being attractive to the opposite sex.” I’m not making this up, folks. Here he stumbles upon said (read, actually) random event…
“A pretty girl with a problem. Who could resist? Certainly not Herschel.”
Do NOT adjust your monitors, fearless readers. Half this flick is out of focus, and why not? Here we meet Angel, a squarejohn Bible-thumper who’s blissed out on bless! But her problems are chump change compared to her sister’s…
It’s two-fistin’ Ann! She’s the hit of the swingin’ subterranean party scene with her penchant for leopard-skin jumpsuits, chartreuse eye-liner, velvet paintings, beanbag chairs and, oh yeah, her massive drug habit! Now there’s a bio for a personal ad! 
Ann likes her some Herschel. Probably because he reminds her of Conway Twitty gone bad!
Sorry, Conway, I couldn’t resist.
The day before Herschel is to start a new job at a turkey farm (don’t ask), Ann flashes her classy chassis in a seductive assault!
Hey, those aren’t Band-aids! Nice use of metaphor by the filmmakers here. 
Hersch refuses until Ann insults him: “How can such a big hunk of man be such a damn coward?” That sticks in his craw, and he hits the wacky tobacky.
A powerful number! He flips his well-coifed, out-of-focus wig! 
“Poultry manure for sale.” Coulda been the tagline for this flick.
That jacket is the best part of the film…
“Thank you, thank you very much.”
Did you know that the fleshy skin hanging underneath the turkey’s beak is called the wattle and the protuberance on the top of the beak is the snood? Hey c’mon, I AM the Maven Turkey Knocker, just doin’ my job here…
Hersch meets these two shmedriks, who inform him they are “testing the chemical caponization of poultry.” Wha? These dudes are turkey castrators! Now THERE’s a job title for ye. In reality, these are two of the worst actors you’ll ever see, which is really saying something in this flick. They talk Hersch into participating in their ‘speriments by offering him illegal drugs in exchange for his services. Whatever happened to old-fashioned informed consent, and, if you don’t cry, maybe a lollipop?
“Herschel, Turkey Wrangler.” The sheer absurdity of this shot compels me to include it. 
After a long day of turkey ‘rasslin, Herschel finds himself jonesin’ for a blast of the ol’ Blue Sky Blonde. “I have the feeling I’m hooked,” he says. After one joint! Righteous stuff, man.
The next day at work, Hersch (perhaps still suffering from the munchies) devours an entire bird! Guess he’s trying to become the Fat Elvis. Dude’s hardcore: he polishes off the whole thing without gravy or cranberry sauce! No bitching about white or dark meat, either. ‘Bout this time viewer begins longing for the wishbone.
Predictably, he feels rather…uh…stuffed. Kinda sleepy, too: Dude has a trytophan buzz like no other. He staggers off to unbutton his jeans, watch football and pile up some Z’s.
He awakens to find he has become…oh my GAWD!... some sort of WERETURKEY! With a voracious thirst for the blood of drug addicts! Makes perfect sense! Only, where’re his wattle and snood? It’s these little details that make it believable, folks!
What follows is a murderous, gooble-laden rampage across the Florida backwoods. Apparently, there’s a lotta hopheads down there! 
Meanwhile, Ann has enlisted the help of out-of-work former members of Blue Cheer. With one brain cell between ‘em, what could go wrong? Have you ever brainstormed while smoking a joint? “Well, lessee, we could… uh… anybody got any Doritos? What were we talking about? Yeah, I’ve seen “Easy Rider”! I find it hard to believe they’d make it off the couch. Roll another number, fellas! 
Lone gunman Lee Harvey Oswald makes special appearance as drug dealer!
Magic bullet my giblets!
OK, OK, I’ll talk! There were these other dudes on the Grassy Knoll and ARRGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
ARRGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! ARRGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! ARRGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! The screaming goes on FOREVER, kids.
Does God hear the prayers of the wereturkey? More importantly, does He hear those of the audience? MERCY!
Dude from Jethro Tull sneaks up and pops that little thermometer on Herschel’s back!
What more can I say? The entire experience is just mind-boggling.
“This has been a story based partly on fact, partly on probability. But the horrors that occur in the minds of those who allow the indiscriminate use of the human body as a mixing bowl for drugs and chemicals are as real as the real horrors.” Huh? Ginter then violently convulses in a hacking fit of emphysema! The body is a temple: thanks for the advice, Dr. Hyp-O-Crite!
The whole thing was a blurry, badly dubbed, poorly lit dream! Herschel is poignantly reunited with Ann and her eyeliner. Sweet potato lord-a-mighty!
Or is it??? Well, in a way, yes: not surprisingly, there was no sequel to this trainwreck, although it was rumored “WERETURKEY VS THE KILLER SHREWS” was in the works. Much like the titular fowl, it never got off the ground. However, I guarantee that once you’ve seen BLOOD FREAK, it’ll stick in yer gizzard, no matter how much hippie lettuce you ingest. The singular ineptitude of every facet of filmmaking on display here is simply breathtaking: nothing like this exists, and nothing like it will ever naturally reoccur in these tech-savvy times. Furthermore, the pro-Christian, anti-drug message is so ham-fistedly presented, getting high would probably help in the enjoyment of the film. The cruel irony! Man, I’m exhausted just thinking about it, and I watched it sober! Guess I’ll cash in my new perks and slip into the breakroom for a bite. Hey, what’s this? EEGAH left me a turkey sannich?!? Next stop: Barfsville! ARRGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! ARRGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! ARRGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
