Ahh, "Reality TV." That sublime essence of creativity that spews like golden diarrhea from the corpulent asses of television marketing whores, and the clearest evidence I've seen yet that mankind is truly circling the drain. Ever sat through an episode of "The Bachelor" and thought, "Dude, wouldn't it be just peachy-keen if one of the bitches fuckin' snapped and killed the others with a 20-pound sledge?"

Hey, don't look at me like that. If one of the contestants on "Survivor" freaked out and took a hacksaw to his camp-mates, you wouldn't gasp and say, "The horror!" You'd drool like a fucking tweaker trying to download the blurry murder footage on the web.

It's okay! I feel your pain, and like most of you, I am in need of a qualified therapist. Thankfully, I've found one. His name is Maurice Devereaux, and his prescribed treatment comes in the form of a potent little pill called $LA$HER$. It may even be covered by your insurance. At any rate, $24.95 is a small price to pay for peace of mind.

This is the second feature by the Canadian writer/director to be picked up for distribution by FANGORIA's newly-revived (and fairly decent this time around) video distribution wing. His first, LADY OF THE LAKE, was less successful, except maybe as a sedative. Thankfully, this one's not only a vast improvement, it's wildly original, crazy as a shithouse rat, and makes up for its micro-budget with fuzzy cojones aplenty.

The project came into being in 1998 after the filmmaker's exposure to the hardcore Japanese game-show ENDURANCE (itself the inspiration for "Fear Factor"), in which contestants undergo all manner of physical atrocities (most of which focus on the groin area, for some reason) for cash and fame. Devereaux figured it wouldn't take much for corrupt government honchos to bend the law a bit where on-camera murder is concerned (as long as the money's good), and have contestants literally compete for their lives.

Such is the fun-a-plenty world of $LA$HER$, Japan's highest-rated game show since... well, ENDURANCE. This one's got what the public's craving: a perky host, several scantily-clad cheerleaders ("The Slasherettes"), a smooth DJ (complete with hip catchphrase, "Super-Fine!"), and of course, real murders in real-time. Each week's lucky contestants navigate their way through an elaborate Halloween-type spookhouse maze, pursued by three well-armed killers who style themselves after various cinematic maniacs - complete with signature murder techniques and snappy costumes. Those who survive the course reap a hefty financial reward (complete with bonuses if they kill their pursuers) and are duly enshrined in the $LA$HER$ hall of fame. Needless to say, there aren't many winners.

We join the broadcast for the show's first trans-coastal crossover episode, featuring all American participants - well, North American, anyway, and from the looks of them, recruited from Victims-R-Us. There's a noble hero-type (Tony Curtis Blondell, who looks like the model for a line of action figures); a tough chick (Carolina Pla, in requisite camo tank-top); a turbo-nerd (Kieran Keller); an icy model (Sofia de Medeiros); a hard-ass bouncer (Jerry Sprio); and a skin-peelingly annoying social activist (Sarah Joslyn Crowder, whose pained scowl makes her look profoundly constipated).

After a warm-up from oh-so-perky host Miho (Claudine Shiraishi), the funky bunch descends into "The Dangerzone," where they are immediately set upon by a trio of costumed crazies: Preacherman (Neil Napier), who spouts pseudo- scripture while brandishing a cruciform dagger; Chainsaw Charlie (Napier again), a musclebound cracker with a gibbering drawl and a sputtering McCulloch; and the all- time record-holder for most kills, the lecherous Dr. Ripper (Christopher Piggins, who has appeared in many oddball Canadian projects, including the demented SUBCONSCIOUS CRUELTY). Following them through the maze is the unseen single cameraman, who is not allowed to interfere with the carnage that plays out before his lens. And why would he? Death is great TV!

It is through this unblinking eye that we witness the entire story, and Devereaux goes to great lengths to maintain the illusion of one continuous take (hiding cuts within the flickering of overhead lights, or in the occasional whip-pan, much like Hitchcock's ROPE) for the entire 99-minute running time (the original cut, screened at the Fantasia Film Festival, clocked in at over 2 hours). The effect is double-edged: while the tension is definitely ramped up by trapping the audience with the characters (the participants know their danger level is higher when they're on-camera), we're also forced to contend with some of the shrillest, most rectum-puckering performances in horror history.

Crowder is clearly the chief offender in this department - scowling, sobbing, shrieking her way through every scene, offering lengthy treatises on the amoral nature of the show and its audience, and generally pissing away any drop of sympathy we might have had for her at the start (I'd like to think Devereaux cynically planned it that way... please, God, let it be that). Granted, their acting was a thousand times better than that of the vacuous turdlets on "The Real World," but it still made me pine for the pensive dignity of "Passions."

Despite this unfortunate setback, Devereaux holds hard and fast to the notion that we're watching an actual live broadcast, and his tenacity is pretty convincing. There are some truly inspired touches: the shock collars that prevent all participants from moving during commercial breaks; the killer who suddenly steps out of character when the tables are turned; and the ratings-conscious loophole that allows the female contestants to buy time by flashing their goodies. And of course, this wouldn't be a proper Fango film without a healthy dollop of the red stuff, and there's gore galore, including decapitations, impalement, facial mutilation and a nifty chainsaw bisection. Oh, for fun.

For a single-camera SOV exercise, this is a fairly slick little production, with some impressive set designs and inventive lighting. Shot in high-definition DV, the image quality is on par with any network program, with dense shadows and crisp detail, and the techno soundtrack (as spun by "DJ Slash") serves the material well. The horrific hijinks spill over into the DVD extras, which are pretty extensive. Along with trailers and deleted scenes (mainly excised material from the festival premiere), there is a fun and informative commentary track from Devereaux, as well as an excellent 55-minute making-of documentary that covers every detail of the film's production, and a hilarious "Inside the Actors' Studio" parody interview with Chainsaw Charlie, discussing the essence of his craft. Oh yeah, and don't forget to catch the hilarious ads during the end credits.

So maybe $LA$HER$ won't necessarily change the genre as we know it, but it's still pretty damn unique, and a swift kick in the happy-sack to the whole Reality thing, which I think is long overdue for an ass-chomping. Just don't be surprised when this kind of show premieres for real... probably shortly after a FOX exec gets a hold of this DVD. You bastards.