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by John Kostka Staff Writer
All right, I’m curious: what’s with the puppets? A quick browse through
the Full Moon catalogue gives an impression of a company obsessed: at least
seven Puppet Master movies, Dollman, Demonic Toys, and
innumerable spin-offs / rip-offs (Blood Dolls) and match-ups of all
kinds (Dollman vs. Demonic Toys, the abysmal Puppet Master vs.
Demonic toys, etc.). With this mind-bogglingly diverse array of viewing
options, one would think it a safe bet that the public might not feel that
extreme of a need for another killer doll / toy movie. One would be
wrong.
And that brings us to the subject of today’s review, Decadent
Evil, yet another mini-monster opus to spring from the fertile mind of
Charles Band, this time being released under the newly-revived Wizard Video
(remember them from back in the day?) but bearing all the marks of Full
Moon.
Don’t get me wrong: I like Full Moon, but no matter what your feelings
on them, you’ve got to admit, they’ve certainly got a recognizable style,
particularly in the newer films. Even if there aren’t any puppets or dolls
to tip you off right away, a 70-or-so minute running time, a cast of about
six people, and “US locations” that all have a strangely Romanian
feel to them are sure to tip you off that this is a Band production.
Decadent Evil carries all these.
The action begins (well, after an opening costumed
back-story introduction that, while probably accounting for half the
film’s budget, is completely superfluous) at a strip club, where a man comes
in with his wife in tow. Understandably, the wife isn’t all that excited
about being at a strip club, but the husband eventually goads her into
getting a lap dance from one of the strippers, who then invites the two back
to her mansion. It should be little surprise what happens to the
two once they arrive.
And now that we’re about a third of the way through the movie (18 minutes
in), we finally get to meet our heroes: Sugar, a blonde stripper, and her boyfriend
Dex, who—I think—manages the club. After his girlfriend leaves for the
evening, our hero is quite surprised to find a little person (Full Moon
regular Phil
Fondacaro) at his door, telling him that he’s sleeping with a vampire.
Our hero is understandably upset by this turn of events, and so he proposes
the two head over to the strippers’ mansion (that felt funny to type…) and see
if all this is true. But how will they know where to go? Luckily, our
bubble-headed little vampiric blonde left her drivers license at the club,
which, naturally, lists the address of the three vampiresses’ secret
lair.
So where do the puppets / little monsters come in? Right about now,
actually; for there’s some complicated back-story about the leader of the
vampires keeping a cheating former lover whom she’s transformed into a little red
puppet-beastie in a cage in her room. And as if all this weren’t
convoluted enough, apparently, the vampire leader is quite close to having
drunk the blood of 10000 victims; once she succeeds at this, she will become
the leader of all vampires (I’ve no idea what happens when another reaches
10000 victims), which, for some reason, will not bode well for humanity.
As you can well imagine, with our six characters (if you count the little
red monster) in the mansion, much mayhem ensues, the world is saved, and
everything wraps up after a lightening-fast 59 minutes before eight minutes
of massively padded credits begin. Oh, and did I mention the puppet
sodomy?
So is there really anything of much interest here? The answer is no, not
really. Decadent Evil is, essentially, an exercise in cinematic
cannibalism. The film plays like a mixture of various elements from other,
better Full Moon productions, and, in other instances, it even rips off
sources that aren’t in-house. Probably the worst instance of plagiarism
occurs during the opening scene in the strip club, where the dancers perform
to a song so obviously ripped-off from Run Lola Run I’d encourage
director / composer Tom Tykwer to sue, if the threadbare production hadn’t
convinced me that whatever recompense he could get from Wizard would hardly
be worth it.
With only an hour to tell its story and with much of this time consumed
by uninteresting murders and poorly-lit stripteases, there’s very little
story to this film and even worse characterization. Our hero, Dex, gets no
characterization, for example: we simply learn that he’s the vampire girl’s
boyfriend and then he sets off on his adventure with little Phil Fondacaro.
Acting is overall banal, though it is occasionally enlivened by a few
peculiar deliveries and Daniel Lennox’s (as Dex) perpetual stare of
mystified wonder that dogs him for the entire production.
Nevertheless, an occasional bizarre moment or goofy line aren’t enough to
save Decadent Evil, which is boring to the extreme. Wizard Video’s
website, www.fullmoondirect.com, makes a point of saying Wizard’s goal is
to produce six movies a year. If this is the quality we can expect, I’d
rather they only made one and focused on making it good, original,
interesting and entertaining.
The DVD’s extras are basically what one would expect on a traditional
Full Moon DVD. A 16-minute making-of feature is provided that gives a
moderately interesting peek behind the scenes (a lot of the actors seem a
lot more interesting than their parts would suggest). Also present in a
short blooper reel that, like most blooper reels, makes it look like those
involved in the film are more amused by their mistakes than I am. A brief
message from behind the scenes of Band’s next production, Doll
Graveyard (looking like it will surely chart new storytelling realms in
the Full Moon universe) follows, along with another message from Band about
Wizard Entertainment. Things wrap up with a trailer gallery that includes
this film’s trailer in addition to ads for Cinemaker, Band’s how-to
moviemaking documentary; When Puppets and Dolls Attack!, a
compilation for which there must have been myriad scenes from which to
choose; and Monsters Gone Wild!, which appears to be the most varied
and interesting production being advertised on the disk.

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