“Don’t Go in the Park” a.k.a. “The Ancient Curse of the Damned,” a.k.a. “Sanctuary for Evil” is one of the oddest horror films that I’ve ever reviewed for Monsters. Alternately terrible and entertaining, “Park” is a perfect party movie for those who dig gonzo cinema and getting really, really stoned. Though not in the same league as “Blood Freak,”( the morality play wrapped in flesh eating man-turkey guise), it’s got a horrible flavor all its own; one decidedly unique to the sleaze palate. The film’s overly complicated plot goes something like this: 12,000 years ago a tribe of prehistoric cannibals ate children to keep youthful. Two members of the tribe, a brother and sister, piss off the head matriarch and are cursed. They are to spend eternity living “in die,” not dead, not quite alive. They will live the centuries compelled to eat children until 12,000 years into the future when the constellations form some special configuration. Then they will have to devour a 16-year-old virgin who is also related to the tribe. Once virgin is eaten they will be freed from the curse - or something like that. Cut to: “16 years ago.” The aged brother and sister are still in the park, still eating children. They appear old until they eat the flesh of various youngsters and literally steal the youth from them. In a weird bit of wrong-headedness, the dead children become older as the “old” siblings de-age. It must be said that the old age make-up is especially awful and not even high school play caliber. The brother meets up with a character named, literally, Bondi’s Mother (the vacuous Linnea Quigley) and he hypnotizes her into a loveless marriage. The two have a daughter named - guess who? - Bondi (Tamara Taylor) and she’s showered with affection by her father. On her 16th birthday she’s given a large amulet by Dad, who creepily fixates on her.

This spurs an embarrassing shouting match with Dad and Bondi’s Mother, thoroughly ruining the party. Unable to live with her parents continuous arguing, Bondi runs away and accepts a ride with a van of horny young men. Predictably they attempt to rape her, but she’s saved by a power residing in her curious amulet. As Bondi yelps “Daddy, help me!” continuously, the amber stone around her neck glows. It magically transports the shaken girl out of the van before it careens off of a bridge and, upon hitting the ground, blows up in typical grindhouse fashion. She wanders into the deadly park of the title where she finds a dilapidated home. An old hag (the cursed sister who would also be Bondi’s aunt) invites the shaken girl inside where she takes a nap on an old couch. Inside the house she is befriended by pre-teen runaway Nick (Meeno Peluce the only real actor in the bunch) and Cowboy (Chris Riley) another runaway teen.

The three kids form a quick bond while hiding out together. During the day, Nick sells flowers on a street corner to make some money. He just happens to sell a bouquet to aged reporter Taft (Aldo Ray) who’s doing a story on the mysterious park – the park that is unwise to go near. He befriends the little ragamuffin and shares some information on the old lady who has become Nick’s unofficial land lord. It seems she’s bad news and it might be a good idea to stay the hell away from the park. The convoluted story continues, making less sense with each progressive scene. Both the afflicted brother and sister continue to eat children (easily trapping them and opening up their rubbery stomachs with their bare hands). While the brother seems to stay young with little trouble, the sister reverts to her younger self fleetingly. Maybe it’s because she chooses to eat the children while wearing a mask. Are you following this fellow Monster? Because at this point I’d pretty much given up… During a pseudo thrilling moment where the old lady ends up chasing the heroine away, Bondi is caught by her father in the woods. He’s wearing some kind of tribal make-up and attempts to begin the long-time-coming ritual. However, Bondi is no longer a virgin and… Well, some more things happen right up until the unsatisfying conclusion. And if you’re sober and make it until the merciful introduction of the credits you might write in and let me know just what the hell was going on. Zombies entered the picture at some point - and the unpleasant old matriarch from the beginning shows up again. What zombies had to do with the narrative is anyone’s guess, but they’re there and might appear as a welcome relief to some.

“Don’t Go Near the Park” was produced, directed and co-written by somebody named Lawrence D. Foldes - who had the nerve to show up for an audio commentary. He’s joined by Quigley (who clearly had nothing better to do) and an interviewer named David Gregory. Foldes seems intelligent enough and his behind-the-scenes remembrances gave a teeny tiny bit of weight to the proceedings. Teeny tiny. The film, as ugly as it is, was shot on old 35 millimeter cameras that they rented for a song. The story was also based on actual child disappearances from a California park. Evidently Foldes and co-writer Linwood Chase took that flimsy premise, added some hallucinogenic drugs, and ‘voila!’ instant convolution. “Park” is fun on several levels, not the least of which is the bizarre score, which seems to be a mix of library music and some drunk who happened upon a box of wind instruments. At times the score is so wildly inappropriate it’s mind boggling (and quite funny). The acting isn’t quite on the same level as a Herschell Gordon Lewis outing, but it’s bad.

Quigley is especially terrible in the little she’s given to do. The empress has no clothes, but that’s precisely the reason she’s had such a long undistinguished career. Her commentary is also priceless; at one pint she describes “Park” as ‘… one of the maybe second films I’ve done in my life.’ The aptly pseudo-named Crackers Phinn plays the brother/cursed cannibal without an ounce of conviction. Taylor, who is asked to do some pretty amazing things, manages to find several unamazing ways to do them. Fortunately for her, co-star Peluce (who was in the original “Amityville Horror”) has great comic timing and is able to make several of their scenes almost credible. The late Ray, bless his heart, did so many of these drive-in specials at the end of his career, an entire cable channel could be devoted to his work. Ray is perfectly fine in his limited role but is entirely disposable. Beloved art director Robert A. Burns, who sadly died in 2004, inexplicably worked on this film. Best known as the art director for “Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” “Hills Have Eyes,” and “The Howling,” he truly was a credit to the genre. His work in this film (if it truly was all of his work) was not his best hour and twenty four minutes. This was cinematographer William DeDiego’s last film and mercifully so. His composition often reminds one of a filmed play, which might also be attributed to the cheap-jack indoor sets, but his exterior shots are just as clumsy and uninspired.

Why they continue to release “special editions” of films like these while really good drive-in films (“Messiah of Evil” Anyone? Anyone?) are left rotting in the vaults is beyond me. While it’s not a complete waste of time (it really is quite funny in an “Invasion of the Blood Farmers” kind of way), it’s certainly not worth all the time put into this release. Dark Sky Films, a company that usually has such great taste in the obscure, clearly owes somebody a favor. This is a superior release for a film that is uber obscure and must have had the briefest of regional releases. The widescreen (1.85:1 aspect ratio) print is in great shape. Though it’s a poorly shot film, I’m certain that “Park” has never looked better. The Dolby 2.0 Mono track is serviceable with the beautiful flute work and stilted dialogue clear and present. The extras include the aforementioned crackerjack commentary, extended and deleted scenes (mainly extended stomach rips), workprint gore outtakes (more stomach rips), a photo gallery and the amusing theatrical trailers and TV spots. The theatrical trailer makes it look like a zombie gore movie, while other spots trumpet “the lusting vampire!”

“Don’t Go Near the Park” is something less than “Don’t Look in the Basement,” “Don’t Go in the House,” and even, shudder, “Don’t Answer the Phone.” If you MUST go near the park, I strongly suggest several good friends and the intoxicants of your choice. This is drive-in movie schlock at its most absurd and, in the right frame of mind, it’s not a bad way to spend an evening.