Director Report Card: Jeff Lieberman (2004)

7. Satan’s Little Helper

During his seventeen year hiatus from the horror genre, Jeff Lieberman's reputation would only grow. Slasher fans would regularly single out “Just Before Dawn” among the best of the subgenre. Weirdo cinema fans would continue to love “Squirm” and “Blue Sunshine.” So, for a small audience of hardcore horror fans, Lieberman returning to the genre in 2005 was a big deal. I remember “Satan's Little Helper” getting a big write-up in Fangoria, Why Lieberman wouldn't return to feature filmmaking until this point, I don't know. Though I suspect the explosion of low-budget horror flicks on the DVD market had something to do with it. While “Satan's Little Helper's” reputation remains divisive, Lieberman fans received it enthusiastically.

Halloween is approaching the small community of Bell Island. Nine-year-old Dougie is obsessed with a video game called Satan's Little Helper, where a small demon assists the devil in reeking havoc. He's going as the Little Helper for Halloween. Mom Merill drives to pick up big sister Jenna, who is coming home from college just to take her little brother trick-r-treater. She's also bringing her new boyfriend, Alex, along. This infuriates Dougie. While moping through the town, he discovers a serial killer who is hiding his victims among Halloween decorations. Because of his demonic mask, Dougie believes the murderer to be his digital hero. He befriends the killer and involves him in a plot to murder his sister's boyfriend.

All of Jeff Lieberman's films have been low budget productions to varying degrees. “Satan's Little Helper” is no different in that regard and may, in fact, be the director's cheapest film. (Though the budget was apparently big enough to license Bob Dylan's “Man of Peace” to the soundtrack. Or at least enough to hire a very convincing Dylan cover band.) The movie was obviously shot with cheap digital cameras. This creates an overly bright and slightly washed-out look to the film. There's very few special effects in the film and those that do exist aren't very convincing. Just as with the sometimes awkward or goofy elements in “Squirm” and “Blue Sunshine,” you'll have to overlook “Satan's Little Helper's” low budget aesthetic in order to enjoy it.

Because there is a lot to enjoy here. Firstly, this is a Halloween-set horror film that truly embraces the spooky season. Trick-or-treating, costumes, and masks are all main components of the story. Candy is passed out, Halloween parties are attended, costumes shop are visited. More than just the plot elements, “Satan's Little Helper” also captures the feeling of the holiday. The movie's premise seemingly draws from urban legends about dead bodies being hidden in Halloween decorations and Satanic killers murdering black cats on the 31st. As the story goes on, Bell Island completely falls into chaos, the spirit of mischief taking over. Despite it's low budget, “Satan's Little Helper” is perfect Halloween season viewing.

Lieberman's very first film was a short called “The Ringer.” That film compared the startlingly similar ways toys, pop music, and drugs are sold to children. It seems the effects media has on children is a subject that still interested Lieberman in 2005. Dougie is supposed to be nine but acts much younger. His love of the titular video game – which looks like it was created in MS Paint – recalls the childish enthusiasm any kid follows their favorite show or game with. Except this game is about helping the devil murder people. Dougie is largely desensitized to violence. As the Satan Man goes on his killing spree, Dougie watches with approval. He even helps out at several points. The kid obviously isn't old enough to distinguish reality from fiction yet, a factoid the creators of violent video games clearly aren't too concerned with.

Despite the title, there's no blatantly religious or demonic elements to “Satan's Little Helper.” Dougie's family seems largely agnostic. When he asks early on if Satan is real, his mother doesn't realize he's talking about the video game character. She explains that the devil is a metaphor for the evil that men do. Dougie obsessively shouts about Satan and Hell while cursing God and Jesus. His family not only isn't disturbed by this behavior, they find it cute. Into this family that clearly doesn't take the idea of Satanic evil seriously, enters a human representation of the devil. Without getting heavy handed about it, “Satan's Little Helper” goes with the theory that you might not believe in the Devil but he believes in you. And, if not a literal devil, than the evil humans that carry out devilish deeds.

“Satan's Little Helper” is a slasher flick of sorts, as it does have a masked killer gorily offing victims. And a slasher film is frequently only as good as its villain. Luckily, “Satan's Little Helper” has an excellent one. Wearing what appears to be a store-bought Halloween mask, the killer never speaks or shows his face. Despite that, he's hugely expressive. The killer, hilariously, frequently flashes enthusiastic hand signals to Dougie. Actor Joshua Annex's body language suggests the youthful enthusiasm Satan Man pursues murder with. The film implies the killer may be a teenage arsonist, the son of the mayor, recently released from prison. He's even childish at times, when playing with Dougie's toy dinosaurs, cowering from the police, or looking dejected when the boy screams at him. Teenage hormones would explain the Satan Man's randy behavior. In a hilarious sequence, he huffs panties. He gropes several female characters and repeatedly attempts to seduce Jenna. I guess it should be unsurprising that Satan is a horny bastard.

The killer, and the film around him, is frequently hilarious. Lieberman frequently approaches the movie's mayhem from a detached, absurdist direction. After nearly murdering Jenna's boyfriend, and stomping a poor kitty cat, a mom cheerily asks for a photograph with the Satan Man. After a little old lady takes too long to answer the door, Satan strings her up by the neck as revenge. Probably the funniest sequence in the film involves Satan pushing Dougie in a shopping cart. As they ride through the parking lot, they encounter a pregnant woman, a baby in a stroller, and a blind man. The killer slams into each of them, the boy yelling excitedly each time! Beyond these sickly hilarious moments, there's the general absurdity of a little boy declaring love and admiration for Satan.

“Satan's Little Helper” is not always so flippant about its mayhem. The film's gorier moments are not played for laughs. Such as the Satan Man casually stabbing a grocery store clerk or graphically disembowling Dougie's father. As the island descends into chaos – the devil's will working through the entire community, it seems - “Satan's Little Helper” grows more serious. It seems an entire town rioting is not something to be taken so lightly. These scenes don't work as well as the funny ones, as the low budget makes the film's gore cheesy. Moreover, the movie zips back and forth between funny and serious on a whim, making the grimmer moment feel more out of place.

Also floating around inside the movie's head is the relationships between sons and their authority figures. Alex greatly resents his abusive father, a balding toupee salesman sleeping with a college girl. More than once, the film draws a direct parallel between Alex's asshole dad and the Satan Man. Dougie seems to have a good relationship with his own dad but he's never home. In his place, he looks up to the fictional Satan and his real life stand-in. The boy resents his sister's girlfriend for childish reasons. He expresses a naive desire to marry his sister and sees Alex as a romantic rival. When Alex attempts to dress-up as Satan, it's another reason for the young boy to see his sister's new boyfriend as a usurper. These ideas don't collect into something solid but they're interesting nevertheless.

The film's cast is fairly strong. Alexander Brickel, whose only other screen credit is Todd Solondz' “Palindromes,” is very enthusiastic as Dougie. His behavior sometimes borders obnoxious, but this still suits a hyperactive nine year old. Character actress Katheryn Winnick plays Jenna while Amanda Plummer, the only name actress in the film, plays her mom. Plummer and Winnick  have a really charming energy together. The two are constantly joking around and laughing with each other. The two feels like a real mother and daughter. Lastly, I'll mention Stephen Graham as Alex. Graham nicely embodies the role of a pretentious college kid way too invested in his own ideas and thoughts.

As fun as “Satan's Little Helper” is, it has tonal issues all throughout its run time. After the Satan Man murders Dougie's dad, the film really begins to wander. A sequence set at a grown-up Halloween party feels excessively corny, as it features a duct-taped Amanda Plummer walking into a stair banister and Jenna wearing a duck costume. The film doesn't have much of an ending either. The last ten minutes feel aimless. The Satan Man switches into an even more perverse disguise. He gets away, the police arrive, but evil still seems to win. It really feels like Lieberman had a solid movie but no decent concepts for an ending.

Despite some definite issues, I'd still consider “Satan's Little Helper” underrated. The film always makes me laugh wildly whenever I watch it. Like most of Lieberman's horror films, it wraps up some interesting ideas about our society within a wacky horror premise. It pairs this with some deliciously black humor and a truly gorgeous capturing of the Halloween season. In fact, I'd put “Satan's Little Helper” among my favorite horror movies set on Halloween. It certainly showed that Jeff Lieberman lost none of his quirky energy during his lengthy break from making horror movies. [Grade: B+]

Jeff Lieberman seems to have slid into an elder statesman of off-beat horror genre these days. Whether or not he has a new project coming soon is a question mark. (He's occasionally mentioned working on something in interviews.) A remake of "Blue Sunshine" was announced not too long ago, with Lieberman attached as a producer, but I don't know what its current status is. Whether or not Lieberman makes another movie, I'm still happy that he's created such a unique and amusingly weird set of films.

Director Report Card: Jeff Lieberman (1995)

6. Sonny Liston: 
The Mysterious Life and Death of a Champion

Lieberman's first documentary “But...Seriously” wold air on Showtime. His second documentary, “Sonny Liston: The Mysterious Life and Death of a Champion,” would air on HBO the next year. While “But...Seriously” would come and go without much attention, Lieberman's “Sonny Liston” doc would receive a little more critical attention. It would pick up an Emmy and a CableACE award. The film was also released on VHS, though a DVD release has naturally not followed. Luckily, it can be found easily on the internet.

As the title suggest, the hour-long documentary follows the life, career, and death of boxing champion Sonny Liston. It begins with his birth, the exact date of which was never exactly determined. It follows the man through his troubled childhood, his early run-ins with the law, and his eventual discovery of boxing. From there, the man's powerful left hook saw him quickly rise through the ranks of professional boxing. Even after becoming the heavy-weight companion, Liston's career was followed by controversy. Eventually, after a rivalry with an up-and-comer named Muhammad Ali flared out, Liston would start boxing in Las Vegas before dying mysteriously.

Here in 2018, black athletes are criticized for all sorts of ridiculous reasons. This, of course, is not a recent phenomenon, as racism is born right into the ugly heart of America. “The Life and Mysterious Death of a Champion” depicts Sonny Liston as being persecuted by the law his entire life. It seems Liston was set on the path towards prison from an early age. Even after becoming a successful athlete, Liston was still badgered by law enforcement. He was chased out of several towns. He often had altercations with cops, most of which were provoked by the officers. Rumors of throwing fights and mob involvement, some of which seem to have a basis in reality, would follow him his entire career. It seemed Liston never shook the assumption that he was a thug throughout his whole life.

“The Life and Mysterious Death of a Champion” is primarily made up of archive footage and interviews. The interviews are with friends, family, rivals of Liston as well as trainers, other fighters, and sports journalist. Through these interviews, conflicting images of the man emerge. According to some, Liston was a mob enforcer, a criminal, a braggart, a womanizer, and a drug addict. The other interviews say that, as long as he stayed sober, Liston was a stand-up friend. He loved kids. He was shy and awkward during interviews. Despite being a fearsome boxer, he was supposedly afraid of needles. Though only an hour long, Lieberman's film gives us a good look at a complicated and multifaceted person.

One of the most compelling aspects of Lieberman's documentary is the part detailing Liston's rivalry with Muhammad Ali. When they first meet, Ali is still known as Cassius Clay. By this point in his career, Liston had defeated former Heavyweight champion Floyd Patterson early in two bouts. Some say he had become complacent and was rolled over by the bettered trained Ali. Yet there's more intrigue surrounding this fight and the inevitable rematch than just that. Some suggested Liston attempted to cheat in of the fights, throwing a chemical into Ali's eye. Others suggest he intentionally fell in the fight, at the order of the mob. Either way, it's interesting to contrast the two fighters: Ali, a then-controversial figure who would soon be elevated to iconic status, and Liston, a somewhat misunderstood man with a troubled personal life.

As the title indicates, the film eventually details the circumstances surrounding Liston's death. His wife found him dead from what was alter ruled a drug overdose, a combination of weed and heroin. Friends and family claim no drug paraphernalia was found around his body. The authorities point out that family members will often clean up the bodies of loved ones. Some say it was well known that Liston was a drug addict. Others suspect he might have been murdered, his death being set up to look like an overdose. It seems that contradictions followed Liston even up to his dying day.

As someone with very little interest in the history of boxing, I still found “Sonny Liston: The Life and Mysterious Death of a Champion” to be a pretty compelling film. Within an hour, it sums up a man's life while also suggesting the social and political issues that swarmed around him at the time. It's a portrayal as much of the man as the times he lived in. Lieberman hasn't made a documentary since, and I suspect his stop-offs in the genre was something of a compromise, but both of his effort proved to be solid experiences. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Jeff Lieberman (1994)

5. But…Seriously '94

To cult movie fans, after the release of “Remote Control,” it must have seemed like Jeff Lieberman disappeared off the face of the Earth. The man behind minor classics like “Squirm” and “Just Before Dawn” didn't make another horror movie for fifteen years. Lieberman, however, was doing stuff during what appeared to be a lengthy hiatus. He wrote the little-liked third entry in the “NeverEnding Story” series. In the mid-nineties, he also produced and directed two short documentaries for cable television. The first of which was “But... Seriously,” which is called “But... Seriously '94” in its opening title. The film aired on Showtime and has been completely forgotten since then.

So what is “But...Seriously '94?” The film is a short documentary. It cuts together about a dozen comedians, from various specials and performances, as they talk about the then-relevant news stories of the day. Throughout the special, we see some well-known - and some not so-well-known performers - reflecting in irrelevant and somewhat serious ways about social and political events that still resonate and some that have been completely forgotten today.

“But...Seriously” is a highly specific look into events that occurred twenty-four years ago, a time that seems both very long ago and not nearly long ago enough. Many of the events referenced by the comedians are still well-remembered today. Naturally, Tonya Harding and O.J. Simpsons – two of the biggest names of the day – come up. Michael Jackson's molestation trial and his marriage to Lisa Marie Presley are referenced. Lorena Bobbitt and the notorious severed penis get a series of scenes to herself.

Yet some of the names mentioned have already faded into history. The Menendez brothers are referenced casually several times, so much that the film doesn't even feel it necessary to explain who they are. A segment is devoted to Michael Fay, the kid that got caned in Singapore, a controversy that is rightfully forgotten today. Jesse Helms and Strom Thurmond, two rightfully forgotten old racists who also worked as politicians, get name-dropped. I lived through 1994 and this is the first time I've heard of some of these events. Such as seven comets that collided with Jupiter. Or the United States apparently nearly going to war with Haiti. To be fair, I wasn't really paying attention to these things much at the time.

Yet, while watching “But...Seriously,” I couldn't help but think about the way things are similar and the way things are different now. Bill Clinton and his various political scandals, such as Whitewater, Paula Jones, and the Brady Bill, are talked about. Today, during our current administration, it's hard to believe the American public and political body was ever offended by such controversies. There are events highlighted here – the murder of an abortion doctor in Pensacola, parents blaming “Beavis and Butthead” for their child burning the house down – that I doubt would even make the national news today.

Yet some things never change, I guess. There was a push in 1994 to install universal healthcare by the political left, which was apparently laughed out of Washington. Gun control is debated, with comedian Rick Ducommum presenting an especially tasteless disapproval of it. During that business with Haiti, debates about America's relationship with refugees emerge. Flagrant corporate corruption is on display, when tobacco industry execs deny that cigarettes cause cancer.  The death of Richard Nixon, and the disconnect between the public's opinion on Nixon and the eulogies given at his funeral, bring the very recent debates surrounding the postmortem treatment of John McCain to mind.

The general mood projected by the comedians here is apocalyptic. Early on, comedian Paul Mooney talks about how he feels the world is ending. The first segment in the special is devoted to the Northridge Earthquake, which the comedians are especially irrelevant about. Later on, references are made to the wars in Serbia and Yugoslavia. The ethnic cleansing in Bosnia and Rwanda are discussed. The especially sharp comedian Jimmy Tingle makes the point that the American media cared much more about O.J., Tonya, and Lorena than they did these far more destructive events. More than once, the onscreen performers express disappointment with America, its people, and its culture.

As much as “But...Seriously” is a look into the past of American politics, it's much more a look into the past of stand-up comedy. Politics, pop culture, and scandal remain common topics for stand-ups today. However, modern stand-up – in a post alt-comedy world – is characterized by a more personal and absurd approach. The comedy on display in “But...Seriously” seems more aggressively zany. Performers like Richard Belzer, David Brenner, Jack Coen, and Charles “Roger Rabbit” Flesicher are all funny to varying degrees. They also affect silly voices, exaggerated personas, and a general broadness that I simply can't see playing today. These comic tactics were common at the time but read as phony and insincere today.

More pressingly, is “But...Seriously” funny? Yeah, it definitely is. Talented comedians like George Wallace and Pam Stone have pointed, absurd, and amusing observations about some of the various topics, such as Michael Jackson and VCRs. David Brenner's increasingly silly thoughts on hunting and gun control made me laugh. Jack Coen's antics are maybe too wacky but his reflections on muskets made me chuckle. The briefly featured Sue Kolinsky and Beverly Mickens have a dryer, more personal approach that I personally find a lot funnier than many of the other people displayed here.

Some of the comedians I'm really not sure what to think about. The notorious Andrew Dice Clay appears, doing his typical shtick that prioritizes a macho persona over good taste. Joy Behar has insightful thoughts on Lorena Bobbit before making some tasteless jokes about Paula Jones. Rick Ducommum and Will Durst, with their very loud delivery, both come off as pretty obnoxious. There's a lot of debate in modern stand-up about what role, if any, political correctness should play in the medium. “But...Seriously” takes place before a time when such thoughts were considered at all.

Perhaps more interesting than “But...Seriously '94” itself is there's some minor confusion over what the movie even is. See, IMDb, Amazon, Letterboxd, and other resources list the film with a run time of 88 minutes. All three also say George Carlin, Robin Williams, Richard Pryor, Whoopi Goldberg, and other very well known performers appear in the film. These sources also say the film was more about the relationship between politics and comedy in general than specifically the events of 1994. None of these big names appear in the version I saw, which only runs about an hour. I do know that the special I watched was directed by Jeff Lieberman, as his name is listed in the credits.

So is there two different specials with the same name and some of the same people in it that have been conflated over the years? Or is “But...Seriously '94” a follow-up to an earlier special from the same year, also called “But...Seriously?” This separate film seems to exist but, whether or not Jeff Lieberman had anything to do with it, I can't answer as it's totally unavailable. This intrigue is a mystery no one but me wants to answer, as obviously nobody is talking about these obscure comedy documentaries. Whatever the fact is, the “But..Seriously” I watched is an amusing if definitely minor little film. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Jeff Lieberman (1988)

4. Remote Control

I have no hard evidence to support this, aside from their cult following and the general popularity of horror on VHS at the time. But I'm going to assume Jeff Lieberman's first three films were fairly successful at video stores. So it's fitting that his fourth feature would be made primarily for the video market, through a deal with Carolco to fund low budget genre films. Lieberman would let this directly inspire him while writing “Remote Control.” The kooky finished film would also gather fans through rentals and TV screenings before seemingly disappearing before the advent of the DVD age.

Cosmo has a decent job as a video store clerk, a growing field. The store gets a lot of customers. One new release, in particular, seems to be drawing a lot of attention. It's called “Remote Control” and, at first, appears to be nothing more than a goofy sci-fi/horror B-movie from the 1950s. However, the tape seems to have a hypnotizing effect on those that view it, driving them to commit murder. After police attempt to arrest Cosmo, he goes on the run along with a friend and a pretty young customer. Soon, the trio uncovers the creators of “Remote Control,” who are in service of alien overlords determined to wipe out humanity.

Lieberman's fourth feature has a very self-reflective premise: A sci-fi/horror tape named “Remote Control” about a sci-fi/horror tape named “Remote Control.” The film is more than happy to acknowledge this connection. The clips we get of the movie-within-the-movie directly parallel the film's plot, showing a happy couple's night being ruined by VHS-induced murder. Or a young hero in a leather jacket attempting to disrupt the extraterrestrial villains. Considering the movie was made primarily for the video market, it's premise becomes rather meta. If the characters in the film risk their life by renting the identically entitled film, are you, the viewer, also risking your life by renting “Remote Control?” That's a rather cheeky set-up.

Here in 2018, a film about aliens attempting to conquer Earth by infiltrating video stores could not seem more irrelevant. (Though I guess the modern equivalent – a homicidal signal hidden in a Netflix stream? – would be pretty effective.) As depicted in “Remote Control,” video stores are grand gathering centers for the public. They're huge buildings, with elaborate displays, and are always crowded with people. Despite taking place right in the center of video culture in the late eighties, “Remote Control” doesn't seem to have much insight into the effect the media people consume has on them. The video craze is treated like a fad while the behind-the-scenes threat is an intergalactic conspiracy.

Instead of commenting on video store fandom, “Remote Control” is another example of Lieberman using a genre story as window dressing for a Wrong Man story. After two victims of the evil video tape turn up, the police suspect Cosmo and his friend are responsible. In the process of proving his guilt, he ends up shooting a homicidal cop in defense. From there, the police on our on his tail. There's even a sequence where he goes to his sister's home, hoping to protect his nephew from watching the tape. There's two detectives there, forcing him to sneak around. Compared to Jerry in “Blue Sunshine,” who is truly a victim of bad timing, Cosmo really does commit murder. Mostly, putting the heroes on the run is a way to keep the story moving. This time, it's a somewhat clumsy device.

“Remote Control” fuses together several different genres, in addition to the man-on-the-run thriller. Most visibly, Lieberman's fourth is a campy homage to fifties sci-fi. The peaks we get at the movie-within-the-movie are very silly. The characters wear goofy, tinfoil outfits and use horribly impractical gadgets, like an absurd knitting machine and a ridiculous tooth brush apparatus. In the fictional “Remote Control,” the controller of the alien plot is portrayed as a Ming the Merciless type. In the film's “real” world, this carries over, each of the alien pawns being played by Asian actors, a perhaps questionable homage to Toho. There's also a pretty good theremin score, which certainly sets the mood. While Lieberman doesn't totally nail the fifties sci-fi aesthetic – as the death scenes within “Remote Control” are far too gory – it's clear the director has a lot of genuine affection for the genre.

There were moments of humor in “Squirm” and “Blue Sunshine,” some of them even intentional I think, but “Remote Control” is the first full-blown horror/comedy Lieberman made. Most of the humor comes from exaggeration. It's not just the movie-within-the-movie that features ridiculously dated costumes. The film depicts the fashion of 1988 as equally ludicrous. In an early scene, we see a woman don a very goofy dominatrix outfit, which looks more like superhero cosplay. People throughout the film wear Nehru jumpsuits, licorice red dresses, spacesuit-resembling jumpers, and neon blue tank tops. They dance in weird looking clubs and perform in silly aerobics classes. By exaggerating eighties fashion only slightly, Lieberman draws a direct line from fifties B-movies to then-modern fashion.

“Remote Control” even attempts to be an action movie a few times. When fisticuffs cropped up in Lieberman's earlier movies, the results were usually pretty awkward. However, he does better here. When Cosmo and the gang seek out the distributors of “Remote Control,” they end up pulling machine guns on the bad guys. One gets shot through an upstairs window and there's even a forklift chase. This sequence ends with a massive explosion, which is certainly an unexpected and effective stunt. Maybe pyrotechnics were really cheap in the eighties. While the action elements are nothing unique, these scenes are pulled off competently.

More than anything else, “Remote Control” is a horror movie. The premise, of a video tape inducing a homicidal state, proved to be ahead of the curve to a degree. Murderous movies stories would become popular, with “The Ring” and “Cigarette Burns,” about a decade and a half later. The attack scenes are obviously meant to produce chills and shocks. Such as when Cosmo is suddenly attacked in another store, the staff driven mad by the tape. Or when the film's heroine briefly falls under the tape's spell. After the action heavy theatrics of the second half, Lieberman attempts to return to this style, with a smaller, tighter climax. That isn't entirely successful, the story feeling like it's already reached its climax, though a darkened condo does make for a good location.

Kevin Dillon stars as Cosmo. As written, the character begins as somewhat nerdy. He pines for a pretty customer and thinks quoting French movies at her will catch her attention. Yet Dillon also brings a tough element to the character, suggesting that Cosmo’s intelligence is more street smarts than academic. This quality comes in handy as Cosmo becomes more like an action hero throughout the film. Dillon successfully balances both aspects of the protagonist, while also generally projecting a likable vibe.

Sadly, the film’s romance is not as steady as its lead. Deborah Goodrich plays Belinda, the girl that catches Cosmo’s eye. At first, Goodrich shares a believably awkward chemistry with Dillon, during the early scenes devoted to his clumsy flirting. However, later, Cosmo ends up holding her at gunpoint and dragging her along on this adventure. Her fear over this situation quickly deludes and she ends up falling in love with him. That does not seem like a realistic start to a relationship. At one point, it looks like Lieberman is all too aware of this. Late in the film, Belinda says that she’s been manipulated by the evil video tape the entire time. That might’ve been a clever twist but turns out to just be an attempt by the baddies to throw the hero off. The weirdo romance is definitely among the film’s weakest attributes, though it’s no fault of the charming Goodrich.

The film’s supporting cast is pretty solid too. Christopher Wynne plays Georgie, Cosmo’s slightly per year best friend. Wynne is good for goofy comic relief, not so much dramatic death scenes, but seems to be on the film’s off-beat wave length. Frank Beddor is effectively off-putting as Victor, the asshole video store customer who eventually becomes a tool of the alien invaders. Beddor is stiff but in a way that suggests a stuck-up, emotionally distant, frat boy bully. That makes a good contrast against Cosmo’s more down-to-Earth personality. A young Jennifer Tilly appears as Allegra, an early victim of the tape. It’s a small role but Tilly, with her unforgettable voice and screen presence, makes it a highlight of the film. Tilly is also the only cast member who doesn’t look ridiculous in the over-the-top costumes. A tight, neon red dress and silly, space princess hairdo really suits her quirky style.

Like a lot of Lieberman’s slightly obscure films, “Remote Control” would garner a small but passionate cult following. Unlike his later films, it would not receive a nice DVD release in the early two-thousands. I don’t know if this was because of tangled rights issues or a lack of interest on the home video companies’ behalves. Perhaps appropriately, the only way to see “Remote Control,” for many years, was on old VHS tapes. (Or blurry bootlegs ripped from old VHS tapes.) Luckily, Lieberman recently regained the rights to the film and released it himself on DVD and Blu-Ray. So now a whole new generation of cult movie fans can enjoy this slightly uneven but nevertheless amusing genre mash-ups. [Grade: B-]

Director Report Card: Jeff Lieberman (1981)

3. Just Before Dawn

In the late seventies and early eighties, the horror genre would be completely changed by John Carpenter's “Halloween.” After that, multiplexes, drive-ins, and what grindhouses that still survived were flooded with similar movies about teenagers being killed by maniacs wielding sharp implements. Jeff Lieberman, eager to continue working in the genre, decided to try his hand at the dead teenager flick. He would receive a script from Mark Arywitz and Jonas Middleton, that had been floating around since the mid-seventies, and heavily rewrite it. “Just Before Dawn” would be the result. Though widely overlooked in 1981, “Just Before Dawn” is now regarded as Lieberman's best film.

A group of teenagers head into Oregon's Silver Falls State Park for a weekend of camping, hiking, and partying. They are Warren, his girlfriend Constance, Jonathan, his girlfriend Megan, and his brother Daniel. From the moment they arrive in the woods, bad omens float their way. The local park ranger warns them the falls are dangerous. Their RV hits a deer as they enter the woods. A drunk old man rants about “demons” in the forest. They discover a family of inbred, religious hillbillies that tell them to leave. Soon, the campers are being picked off one by one by a mysterious killer.

Among the many slasher movies made in the early eighties, lots of them were about teenagers going camping in the woods and being killed. Movies like “Don't Go in the Woods,” “The Prey,” “The Final Terror,” and “The Forest” have a nearly identical premise to “Just Before Dawn.” However, Lieberman's movie is distinguished by his focus on forested isolation. The film begins with a shot of the sun rising over the woods. The characters are often depicted as small compared to the trees, mountains, and rushing rivers that surround them. The vastness of the woods and the sounds of unseen creatures fills the visual and audio background. More than many other flicks, you really get the sense here that it's easy for people to disappear among the woods.

Lieberman uses other tricks to make “Just Before Dawn” as creepy as possible. He repeats a gag throughout the film and it never fails to work. The camera will focus on characters in the foreground, doing something to draw the audience's eye. Such as a pair of hunters goofing off in an abandoned church, partially naked lovers kissing next to a waterfall, or a man walking through the dark woods. From there, he'll introduce something lurking in the background. We'll catch a glimpse of the film's killer in a window or behind a waterfall. Or a dead body approaching the camera more and more. It's a method that effectively ups the suspense and creeps the audience out.

Despite being exceptionally creepy, do not think “Just Before Dawn” subverts or breaks the rules of the then still emerging slasher genre. In fact, Lieberman's film hits most of the expected notes. Aside from the stock premise, many of the cliches are present. There's a Crazy Ralph-like character, a drunk old man who warns the kids but is ignored. Among the young people, there's a couple preoccupied with hanky panky. Naturally, this leads to their demises. There's even an older male authority figure there to sweep in and rescue the damsel in distress, like “Halloween's” Dr. Loomis. A spring loaded cat is switched out for a spring loaded deer but the effect is the same. “Just Before Dawn” proves that a slasher flick following most of the cliches does not make it any less effective.

Something that does distinguish this film from the “Friday the 13th” clones that would soon flood cinemas is its distinct lack of gore. “Just Before Dawn” does not have much in the ways of bloody deaths. Within its opening minutes, someone is stabbed through the crotch with a machete. Later, the same bladed instrument is shoved into a guy's gut. However, that's about it as far as blood and guts in “Just Before Dawn” goes. Many of the murders occur off-screen. It's evident that Lieberman was more interested in generating suspense than showing off graphic special effects.

Many of the slasher flicks that came out around the same time was content to stick their killers in a hood or ski mask and call it a day, if they cooked up a cool look for their murderer at all. “Just Before Dawn” manages to create a very memorable and creepy killer. Or killers, I should say. One of “Just Before Dawn's” cleverest twist is that twin brothers are responsible for the murders. The Mountain Twins have an appropriately inbred appearance, with their Neanderthal foreheads and stocky bodies. They take trophies from each of their kills, leading to ever evolving appearances. Moreover, these guys are just creepy. They either make weird little giggles or bizarre animal sounds. I don't know if they have the cool factor of a Jason or a Cropsy but the Mountain Twins totally work for “Just Before Dawn.”

As I said before, Jeff Lieberman did not write “Just Before Dawn” alone. Arywitz and Middleton's screenplay went through two previous titles, “The Tennessee Mountain Murders” and  “The Last Ritual.” That second iteration apparently featured a heavy religious component, with the killers being snake-handlers and the final girl being married off to one of them. Lieberman would cut most of this stuff when he rewrote the script, finding it tedious. However, you can still see traces of this in the final film. The hikers quickly encounter the highly religious mountain family, especially noticing the eccentric daughter. We soon learn that the Twins are part of this family. It never quite crystallizes into anything solid but there's definitely a thread of religious repression and familial abuse running underneath the movie.

As a horror movie, “Just Before Dawn” focuses more on creating a creepy atmosphere than outright scares. However, the movie still gets in several sequences of fantastically tense suspense. A rope bridge puts in a prominent appearance early in the movie. This setting is reprised with one person on the bridge and the killer on the other side, a sequence that builds fantastically until a wonderful pay-off. Later, there's another moment of sustained suspense when Constance scales a tree while one of the Twins hacks away at it with his machete. The final confrontation between heroine and killer has an especially grisly conclusion. Despite the monster being dispatched, “Just Before Dawn” does not end on a triumphant note. Instead, it's conclusion leaves the audience unnerved and unsettled. There's no end for a cheap “Or is it?” ending. The implications of the ending – that our heroes' innocence has been destroyed forever – is disturbing enough.

“Just Before Dawn” is a notable slasher flick in another way. It puts a little more time and effort into developing its spam-in-a-van (or, more accurately, spam-in-a-winnebago) characters than some other films in this disreputable sub-genre. This was only Gregg Henry's second theatrical film, though he was already stacking up a long list of television credits. As Warren, he begins the film as a somewhat meatheaded lover boy. However, as the situation grows graver, Henry brings an fittingly sweaty sense of panic to the part. Deborah Benson is also relatable and down-to-earth as Constance. The character seems more aware of how dangerous things are earlier than most final girls.

Of the characters that don't make it out of the movie alive, Jamie Rose is also sweet as Megan. Though she has a silly preoccupation with her make-up, the actress successfully conveys how in-over-her-head the character quickly becomes. I also like Chris Lemmon as Jonathan, her photographer boyfriend. These could've been indistinct parts but the actors bring enough personality to them to make the characters more memorable. Of course, I must also acknowledge George Kennedy, the marquee name in the film who probably shot his scenes in a day or two. Despite that, Kennedy brings a folksy charm to the part. The character actually seems somewhat invested in the lives of these kids.

Another element that makes “Just Before Dawn” so effectively creepy is its sound. The sound design is frequently sparse, emphasizing the sounds of whistles and animal noises in the otherwise silent, isolating woods. The music is also suitably spooky. Brad Fiedel provides a droning and distorted electronic score. The music does not reach the level of Fiedel's iconic “Terminator” score. However, that synthesized buzz does ratchet up the creep factor in a few scenes, creating an ominous and grim atmosphere.

Slasher movies were still a hot commodity in 1981. The independently produced film was nearly acquired by Universal, who presumably would've given it a wide release. That deal fell through and the film only had a limited release instead. Naturally, VHS is where “Just Before Dawn” would really find its audience. In the years since, it's become a hidden gem of the horror genre and definitely among the most polished of the early eighties slashers. Though lacking the social commentary of “Blue Sunshine,” it's undoubtedly Jeff Lieberman's most effective and well made film. [Grade: B+]

Director Report Card: Jeff Lieberman (1977)

2. Blue Sunshine

Here's how Jeff Lieberman tells it, on some special feature somewhere. After the release of “Squirm,” his father died. Lieberman chose to handle his grief by throwing himself into his work. Out of this creative rush emerged “Blue Sunshine.” The project was filmed in 1976, immediately after “Squrim.” It wouldn't be released into theaters until 1978. It seems “Blue Sunshine” would reach its widest audience as a late night movie in the eighties, even being showcased on Elvira's “Movie Macabre.” The film's cult following has only grown since then and it's often regarded as one of Lieberman's best movies.

It's Christmas time on the West Coast. Jerry “Zippy” Zipkin joins some friends for a holiday party, including his girlfriend Alicia. In the middle of the party, a friend suddenly looses all his hair and flees, staring wide-eyed. He later returns and murders three women, throwing their bodies in the fireplace. Jerry, the only other person present, is blamed for the crimes. Jerry goes on the run and soon discovers that there have been similar incidents, of people going bald and becoming violent. He discovers all the attackers went to college together. Back in the sixties, they were all sold a strain of acid called Blue Sunshine by Edward Flemming, who is now running for senate.

By the late seventies, it was apparent that the idealism of the hippy movement was not going to change the world. Few films, however, address this idea as head-on as “Blue Sunshine.” Most of the character's were idealistic college students, hippies and stoners, part of the changing cultural tide in the late sixties. A decade later, they've moved into the same stale suburban communities they came from, locked in loveless marriages. Eddie Flemming, once an acid head, has become the biggest sell-out of all: A politician. And now, acid flashbacks are making the former hippies into killers and madmen. Lieberman literializes the peace-and-love era curdling into an uglier cynicism by having it return as something brutal and evil.

Then again, maybe the kids are just getting old. Those affected by Blue Sunshine going bald, foreshadowed by shots of the round and pale moon in the opening credits, is not just a memorable visual. Flemming's ex-wife is so stressed out, by the divorce and her best friend's rowdy kids, that she's losing her hair. One of the murderers believes his wife is cheating on him. The idealism of youth making way for petty, adult concerns is not a phenomenon exclusive to the baby boomers. It's simply a factor of growing up and getting old. Losing your hair is also something that happens to some people as they age, as Jerry's doctor friend discovers. So the main symptom of the deadly acid flashbacks is also symbolic of growing old, and facing death, in general.

Jeff Lieberman doesn't just wrap these ideas up in the horror/thriller genre. “Blue Sunshine” belongs to an even more specific style of story: The Wrong Man thriller so popularized by Alfred Hitchcock. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time causes the authorities to suspect Jerry is a murderer. However, this decision is probably the least interesting thing about “Blue Sunshine.” The detective subplot never really goes anywhere and is bluntly disposed of in the last act. Being on the run from the cops never prevents Jerry from contacting his girlfriend and pals when he needs to. The man-on-the-run plot gets more unlikely as the film goes on. Before “Blue Sunshine” is over, Jerry is mistaken for another murder by bad timing. Lieberman also throws in a very silly and utterly superfluous car chase.

As a horror movie, “Blue Sunshine” makes good use of a slow building type of tension, the audience never being entirely sure when one of the former acid heads may go nuts. This is most apparent in two sequences. The first of which occurs when Jerry spies on David, his doctor friend, in the operating room. He watches David grow more agitated, being handed different sharp implements, the audience wandering if he'll snap. (This recalls a similar scene in Cronenberg's “Rabid,” which was probably filmed around the same time.) He doesn't but the inevitable happens later on. As Jerry leaves the apartment of Fleming's ex-wife, the clearly distressed woman collapses on a table. She pulls her hair off, grabs a butcher knife, and goes after the two kids. This is cut with Jerry riding the elevator up and down, realizing he needs to head back up there. Both sequences are expertly directed and editing, creating a decent bit of suspense.

There are other scenes in “Blue Sunshine” that go more for the throat, in various brutal ways. We do not see the police officer murder his wife and kids. Instead, Jerry visits the home. He wanders from room to room, seeing the outlines of their corpses on the floor and the lingering blood splatters. As he looks over the crime scene, we hear the sounds of violence: the barking dog, the screaming kids, the yelling lunatic. Which makes the violence far more disturbing than just depicting it on-screen probably would've been. Most of the transformations, from normal person to murderer, happens gradually. At least once, it happens suddenly, a victim being slammed into the wall violently. These moments make an impact.

As effective as “Squirm” was, it was also deeply hampered by its goofy premise. “Blue Sunshine” is much less silly than “Squirm.” However, the director still miscalculates a few moments. There's that aforementioned car chase, which feels amusingly out-of-place. The very first attack scene potentially produces some chuckles. A man having his hair yanked off and fleeing into the night is kind of funny. The same guy returning to the house, starring wide-eyed and deranged, comes off as kind of silly too. The attack sequence involving the kids is undermined at the last minute by the funny image of a woman, dressed only in a robe and panties, being tossed over an apartment balcony in an especially awkward fashion.

Lieberman clearly learned a lot between his debut and his follow-up feature but he still had a ways to go. You can see this conflict in “Blue Sunshine's” final act. Fleming's burly bodyguard finally falls under the effects of Blue Sunshine. He rampages through a disco and a shopping mall. These images presents further commentary on seventies materialism, re-contextualizing the excesses of the dance club and the shopping mall as a location for horror. Lieberman also builds some decent suspense as Jerry is stalked through the store. However, there's also some weird goofy scenes here. Like songs being performed by weird ventriloquist puppets. Or the film's final villain being dismissed in such a blunt, sudden way.

Aside from being a memorably offbeat seventies horror flick, “Blue Sunshine” is also notable for something else. It's a starring role for Zalman King. A character actor in the sixties and seventies, King would later reinvent himself as a highly successful producer of softcore porn. It's a little odd to see a man best known for creating “9½ Weeks,” “Two Moon Junction,” “Wild Orchid,” and “Red Shoe Diaries” starring in a movie. As a leading man, King is certainly unconventional. He has a sweaty and wild appearance. He overdoes it in a few scenes, like when imagining beating up one of the bald men. However, King is at least a likable enough actor that the audience doesn't mind following him on this adventure.

Zalman King is supported by a decent cast too. Deborah Winters is also likable as Alicia, Jerry's girlfriend and main companion on his journey. She's at her most charming when leading on the detective investigating the case. As would-be senator Fleming, Mark Goddard is perfectly insincere, hiding his greedy ways and criminal past behind a glad-handing smile. Robert Walden gets a few laughs as David, Jerry's stressed-out but sympathetic doctor friend. He also has decent chemistry with Zalman, making his scenes a highlight. Lastly, Ray Young is appropriately intimidating as Wayne, the jock-turned-bodyguard that becomes the film's main antagonist in its last act. 

A big reason “Blue Sunshine” works as well as it does it Lieberman's direction. Once again, the filmmaker smartly works with the few resources he has. “Blue Sunshine” is mostly well directed and well edited, making the suspense sequences land successfully. Lieberman establishes an eeriness early on, with those opening shots of the full moon. Helping along that unnerving atmosphere is Charles Gross' spooky electronic score. Gross lays on the shrieking synth a little too much in later scenes but, in the earlier moments, the quiet melodies are genuinely creepy.

“Blue Sunshine” got some decent notices upon release in 1978. Notably, the film got written up in the Village Voice, who incorrectly believed the movie was claiming to be based on a true story. After playing theaters, TV showings would grant the movie a cult following of sorts. It seems to me the movie kind of disappeared after that. I had never heard of “Blue Sunshine” until it was re-released on DVD in 2003. Since then, the film's cult following has only grown. It even got a 4K restoration recently! While still having a few problems, “Blue Sunshine” shows Jeff Lieberman's skills improving considerably in his second feature. [Grade: B+]

Director Report Card: Jeff Lieberman (1976)

There's a lot of famous horror directors. Names like John Carpenter, Wes Craven and George Romero are fairly well-known even among the general public, while filmmakers like David Cronenberg and Dario Argento remain beloved with film lovers. But what of those filmmakers that have worked steadily in the genre, produced several cult classics, but never received much in the way of public recognition? Someone like Jeff Lieberman, who directed four oddball horror mash-ups in the seventies and eighties, has a small following but is even fairly unknown within the horror fandom. I'm happy to say I'm a Lieberman fan so let's getting talking about his strange little movies.

1. Squirm

Where did Jeff Lieberman come from? He was born in Brooklyn and pursued a film career at New York's School of Visual Art. After creating the short film “The Ringer,” a hilarious and pointed satire of marketing, he would break into the film industry by writing cop-chases-killer thriller “Blade.” He would make his feature debut with “Squirm.” The creature feature was supposedly inspired by a childhood incident where Jeff and his brother got earthworms to surface with electricity. Supposedly, when he told his wife about the premise, she declared it the worst idea for a movie she had ever heard. Whether or not she was right about the value of the film's premise is a matter of opinion. However, the public disagreed. American International Pictures would release “Squirm” on the drive-in circuit, where it would make a strong profit for the studio.

A powerful storm blows through the small southern town of Fly Creek, Georgia. The wind blows the power lines over, robbing the little town of all electricity. It has another effect that isn't perceived until the next night. The electricity irritates the local population of bloodworms, who are possibly already mutated by pollution. The worms become man eaters and begin to kill townsfolk. The first people to discover this are local girl Geraldine Sanders and Mick, her nerdy friend (and potential lover) from out of town. Naturally, they are ignored until it is too late. As night falls, squirming masses of murderous worms consume Fly Creek.

“Squirm” was inspired by “The Birds.” Like Hitchcock, Lieberman attempted to mine horror out of a commonplace animal. But there's a difference between a screeching, pecking bird and a simple worm. Worms – even bloodworms, which are capable of delivering painful bites – are not especially frightening. They are slow, literally brainless, and easily squished. “Squirm” has to jump through some very silly hoops to make its creatures a creditable threat. So the film features multiple close-ups of the biting worms, with a screaming sound effect added. The victims frequently somehow do not notice a huge advancing wall of worms until its right on top of them. As in many cheesy horror movies before it, nobody believes the kids. All this – combined with the presence of a goofy, bone white, costume shop skeleton – frequently makes “Squirm” seem like a horror film for children.

Despite all that, there's is something to be said for worms as a horror movie threat. The slimy, squirming creatures are, simply put, icky. The bloodworms especially, with their fangs and bright red color, do resemble ambulatory intestines. When a ton of them are piled into one room together, it is a somewhat unnerving sight. The worms' ability to sneak into unwelcome places do make for an unpleasant thought. No, I would not want a worm in my egg cream. I would want them to ooze out of my shower head even less. Though the worms in “Squirm” frequently look fake, the filmmakers apparently used primarily real worms during production. Which certainly backs up the statement that a house full of worms is an unsettling sight.

While worms have a decent, if somewhat limited, power to horrify, “Squirm” is most effective when taking its threat in odd, creative directions. The film's most bizarre subplot revolves around Roger Grimes. The Faulknerian simpleton, and frequently abused son of the town's worm farmer, has an unrequited crush on Geri. While attempting to force himself on her, he lands face-first in a pile of killer worms. In an effectively grotesque sequence, the worms burrow under his skin and seemingly into his brain. He's now a worm-faced ghoul that blabbers incoherently, attacks without direction, and seemingly hears the worms talking to him. This is a truly strange and memorable horror villain. The gore effects in “Squirm,” provided by a young Rick Baker, are often effective. Such as when Geri's mom is reduced to a writhing, worm-covered corpse.

Roger is but one of several grotesque Southern fried weirdo that appear in the film. “Squirm” wins no points for portraying the American South in a flattering light. Many of the residents of Fly Creek ramble in incoherent Southern accents. Roger's dad, Roger himself, a bus driver, a electric line repair man: Their brogues are so hickish, they can barely be understood. The local population are weirdly obsessed with antiques. This extends to the town bartender, who tries to randomly sell Mick an old-time-y diving helmet. The local sheriff is a belligerent asshole and seems to enjoy abusing his power. Everything is sweaty and swampy. Fly Creek seems less like a real Georgian town and more like a surreal dreamland, made up of every negative stereotype people believe about the Deep South.

“Squirm” is a goofy and ridiculous film. However, there's something else to be said for its key images. As the worms squirm up from under the ground, the residents of Fly Creek seem to get randier. Geri is excited to see Mick, who she considers an obvious romantic option. She takes several showers throughout the course of the film. Roger is attracted to her and his lust becomes most inflamed after the worms appear. The town sheriff beds his date just before being consumed by the worms. I don't think it's a mistake that the film's hero is a man with seemingly very little sex drive. The worms, slithering under the ground, seem linked with the less-than-polite desires simmering under the small town setting.

But let's talk about Mick a little. He's introduced wandering off a bus, carrying a ridiculously huge fishing kit. He enters a small town diner and asks for an egg cream, a beverage the waitress does not recognize. He's overly invested in antiques. Later, he's knocked unconscious with a small piece of plywood. Everyone in the town, with the exception of Geri and her sister, seem to hate him instinctively. This is ostensibly a city slicker, whose refined ways are strange to the backwoods residents of Fly Creek, an outsider disliked just for being outsider. I prefer to think it's because Mick's a total wienie, a dweebish busybody and know-it-all. Don Scardino does nothing to counteract this assumption, playing the character as an awkward nerd. I imagine Geri sees him less as an ideal boyfriend and more as a ticket out of her dead end home town.

Then again, maybe it's not that Jeff Lieberman is portraying the South badly. Maybe he just has a weird conception of characters in general. The Sanders family is pretty weird too. Patricia Pearcy's Geri is a decent enough heroine, who knows how to fish and drive a truck. However, Pearcy pitches the small-town-girl act up a little too high, creating a rather broad character. Fran Higgins plays Alma, Geri's sister. I think she's supposed to be younger, as implied by her love of pot and platform shoes, but Higgins looks considerably older than Pearcy. Her performance is strange and stilted too. As mom Naomi, Jean Sullivan adopts an over-the-top Southern accent, spends most of the movie knitting, and reacting to any event with melodramatic horror. They're all a bunch of weirdos.

“Squirm's” expectantly histrionic ad campaign described it as being about “the night of CRAWLING TERROR!” However, that last act is pretty solid. As night falls, the Sanders' house is practically filled to the ceiling with worms. Mick navigates the building with a home-made torch, warding off a flood of worms oozing from every opening. Roger kidnaps Geri, attacks Mick, gets fed to the worms, and returns as a squirming half-human zombie, seemingly more worm than man by now. And that's all pretty cool. However, “Squirm's” denouncement needed some work. After spending the night in a tree, Mick and Geri are awoken by a power company man. The power lights are fixed. The worms are apparently subdued again. The film then ends, unceremoniously, none of the characters apparently put off that the local inveterate population can be turned into ruthless killers just by a simple electric shock.

Jeff Lieberman's direction is fairly inventive, considering the obvious low budget he had to work with. He adopts a worm's-eye-view several times, the camera roaming around near the ground in an atmospheric manner. The flame-lit last act is fittingly creepy. Lieberman even engineers a solid jump scare, when Roger's mutilated face leaps out of the attic. There's also a sequence where a tree falls on the Sanders' family house. This looks like a model but it was apparently one-hundred-percent real. They really dropped a tree on the house and how no idea if the shot would be usable or not. “Squirm” works up to the point that it does probably because Lieberman seems to know his limitations.

Adding to the film's mild creep factor is its soundtrack. During the opening scene, as the storm barrels through Fly Creek, a sinister children's song is heard on the soundtrack. That does a decent job of establishing the film's tone. Robert Prince's soundtrack uses the schoolyard style melody a few times throughout his score. When not focusing on ambient spookiness, Prince ramps up the tension with shrieking synth. The opening creepy kid chanting is certainly better than the misty love ballad that closes the film. Because isn't a killer worm movie that perfect place to debut a song called “A Million Ways to Love You?”

“Squirm” is one of those seventies horror flicks that I find laughable, goofy, interesting, and occasionally creepy in equal measures. This combination of unintentional laughs, bizarre characters, and squishy worm shenanigans has won the movie a cult following. It was frequently shown on late night cable. Underground musician Weird Paul Petroskey wrote an entire album based on the movie in 1994. The film was featured in the last season of “Mystery Science Theater 3000,” where it provided decent riffing material for Mike and the Bots. Taken on its own, there's definitely something lovably goofy about “Squirm,” a movie that can't exactly make killer worms scary but at least doesn't make you regret watching a movie about killer worms. [Grade: B-]