A mildly autistic, shed-dwelling loner improbably acquires an equally troubled girlfriend as he smotes his tormentors.
During his grindhouse heyday, Andy Milligan could excrete exploitation fare even faster and cheaper than Roger Corman. Unlike Corman, who (at least for awhile) aspired to better work, Milligan was content to line his pockets while expressing contempt for mankind. While predictably dour, THE WEIRDO features two prominent peculiarities.
Milligan films are littered with losers, cluelessly trying to claw their way out of hopeless situations. Though retarded, The Weirdo may be Milligan's only character cognizant that he's doomed, doomed, doomed from the getgo. Then, there's the slapping. Punks slap the weirdo. His girlfriend slaps the weirdo. His mother slaps the weirdo. A preacher's wife slaps the weirdo. The weirdo slaps his girlfriend. A caregiver slaps the weirdo. You'll swear that Moe Howard was the technical adviser.
The lumpy script bunches up all the killings at the end. Passive characters abruptly turn hostile to warrant a higher body count.
The psycho attack scenes are borderline competent, and for a flick with subterranean production values, the blood and flesh wounds look surprisingly good.
The inclusion of a cursing cleric was a cool touch, but this sad little film should only appeal to those bitten by the Milligan bug...you poor devils.
During his grindhouse heyday, Andy Milligan could excrete exploitation fare even faster and cheaper than Roger Corman. Unlike Corman, who (at least for awhile) aspired to better work, Milligan was content to line his pockets while expressing contempt for mankind. While predictably dour, THE WEIRDO features two prominent peculiarities.
Milligan films are littered with losers, cluelessly trying to claw their way out of hopeless situations. Though retarded, The Weirdo may be Milligan's only character cognizant that he's doomed, doomed, doomed from the getgo. Then, there's the slapping. Punks slap the weirdo. His girlfriend slaps the weirdo. His mother slaps the weirdo. A preacher's wife slaps the weirdo. The weirdo slaps his girlfriend. A caregiver slaps the weirdo. You'll swear that Moe Howard was the technical adviser.
The lumpy script bunches up all the killings at the end. Passive characters abruptly turn hostile to warrant a higher body count.
The psycho attack scenes are borderline competent, and for a flick with subterranean production values, the blood and flesh wounds look surprisingly good.
The inclusion of a cursing cleric was a cool touch, but this sad little film should only appeal to those bitten by the Milligan bug...you poor devils.