Sandy Hook Lingerie Party Massacre 2000 Review
Sandy Hook Lingerie Party Massacre 2000
Directed by: Tim Beckley
Starring: Debbie Rochon, Stephanie Hudson, DiDi
Review by Luisito Joaquín González
So here we have Sandy Hook Lingerie Party Massacre. Let’s say that again, SANDY HOOK LINGERIE PARTY MASSACRE! What do you think of when you see that combination of words? What’s in a title anyway? Does it have a cryptic meaning? Who is Sandy Hook? What on earth am I writing about? Let’s move on…
Ok this is another of the many party-massacre flicks that includes the likes of: Bikini Party Massacre (Not to be confused with Bikini Girls on Ice), Bachelor Party Massacre, Rock Party Massacre, Pajama Party Massacre and the daddy of them all, Slumber Party Massacre.
Very hard to find on any format (I picked mine up in Moscow), Sandy Hook is another Debbie Rochon carried feature. Debbie Rochon carried feature you ask? Well, let me explain what I mean. Ms Rochon has built a successful career on being an at best ok-ish Z-movie actress with an awesome pair of boobs. What she specialises in, is attaching her name to modestly funded features, turning up for a second (usually to expose aforementioned ‘twin peaks’) and then disappearing with a healthy paycheque. Everyone’s a winner though, because she gets paid, the producers get a fairly experienced name to place above their title and her fans get to appreciate those two bad boys in all their bra-less (sillicon) glory. As she generally sticks to no-budget efforts, it’s fairly obvious that she has done her share of slashers. Check out: Final Examination, American Nightmare, Bleed, Bikini Bloodbath, Blood Relic and Santa Claws. Basically she’s the Linnea Quigley of the noughties.
I have a six hour train journey before me from London to Newcastle and on my fully charged iPad, I have Massacre at Rocky Ridge, Porn Shoot Massacre and this little beauty. These are three zero finance and totally obscure entries to our beloved grouping. Let’s see how I get on with the first…
Some strippers head off to a seaside resort for s break. They are told the legend of a lighthouse keeper whose reckless drinking caused a ship to crash, killing close to one hundred sailors. Soon after, he killed himself and was never brought to trial. Rumour has it that when a storm comes, he stalks the area looking for revenge and many people have disappeared. As night falls, the girls are chased and systematically slaughtered by a loon in a gimp suit.
Oh boy… Right, so I’ve had my say on lunch-money productions before, but just to recap. I will tell you that as a critic, I appreciate that it’s hard to make a decent feature when you’ve got no money. I have kept this in mind and will only rate this film on what I thought the crew did right and wrong. So we have our six (or seven?) strippers. They have the boobies for sure, but aside from Debbie Rochon, they also have the bellies to match. Here begins the film’s fundamental flaw.
It’s not just because these girls are awful actresses. I’ve learned to live with rancid dramatics, being a lifelong, A LIFELONG slasher fan. It’s just that they’re incredibly unappealing to boot, and a runtime filled with them gets very long and very boring, very quickly. To break it down: We get to watch these fat chicks dancing on a bridge for ten minutes. Then we get fat chicks playing beach-ball for the same length of time. Then, said fatties go to an abandoned amusement park for a while, and then we see them make dinner. By this point in the runtime, I was literally screaming: “F**king slaughter them already!” Perhaps the film’s kill shot in terms of a decent ranking comes during the lightweight lesbian scene, which could, in effect, be a sumo wrestling match. Yes, it’s poor; – astronomically so. Also, Dios mío, I didn’t mention the nipple and tongue piercing scene…errrrrghhhh!
After an hour (you read that correctly – a full sixty minutes) the masked killer turns up (awesome mask btw) and we get down to business. Most of the murders are too dark to see, but one of them is ok. There’s a twist that you couldn’t give a flying f**k about and an open ending too. The maniac uses a hook-like weapon and stalks using typical POV. A film really has to be abysmal to get slated by me on this site, because I always hope to uncover a title that no one else has given time to. This however is most DEFINITELY not one of those.
So what did Mr.Creepo (The film’s producer and a guy so egotistical that he makes his characters discuss whether they would go to bed with him) – do wrong? Well, in the UK, they have the descriptive term ‘chav’. If that word is unfamiliar to you, then this explanation will not be. ‘Chavs’ are people generally aged between fifteen and thirty-five who don’t work, live off benefits, have minimal education, wear baseball caps, swear a lot and generally offer nothing except a tax burden to society. They reside in every country and are easier to find than you might think. I don’t like them, you don’t like them and we certainly don’t care to watch them in a movie. Now, although I can’t say for sure that these girls are actually chavs; I can dislike their vulgar talk, lack of class and generally low-level conveyance. The plot could have instead tried to build personalities that we care about, but there’s not even one. Not one member of the cast would I piss on, if they were burning to death in agony. Horror movies work when you want the victims to overcome the evil force. These girls are so fat and unattractive, I was on the side of the psycho killer. Thinking about kissing one of these land whales is making me retch. Imagine one of these hippos riding you sexually. Your rib cage would cave in from the blunt trauma and weight. If you’re on a diet, pay one of these slobs for sex. You’ll be crushed to 75kg in 10 minutes.
Every second word from their mouths is either about sex or their boobs, which to be fair is all that they have to offer. Their constant conversations about el sexo made me wonder, what kind of man would sleep with fat pigs like these? I admit that once, ONCE, when I was really drunk and aged 16, I accidentally when home with a fat chica. She was well spoken though and had ginormous boobs. It was a fantastic shag too in fairness, and she cooked me breakfast! If one of these featured rhinos approached me in a club though, I’d swing for them. I’d call it self defence. It’s perhaps worth noting that Hook is billed as a horror/comedy, but the only comedy to be found here is the inane attempts every now and then to be humorous. These ‘jokes’ are so unevenly placed and pathetic that they make little sense.
There is, believe it or not, ONE very good shot. It shows the killer creeping up behind our final girl, who as you may have already guessed, happens to be Ms Rochon. One and only the one decent moment in a hundred and twenty-five minute flick is just not good enough and the film, like the aforementioned chav, has nothing left to redeem it.
A wise man once said that the key to a good life is making the most of every minute because as each one passes, you never get them back. I urge you not to waste yours on Sandy Hook as it is without a shadow of a doubt as rancid as dating one of these fat slappers. Really one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen and that’s saying something. I read that fat people should be punished as they are eating more than their share and starving Africans could do with that food. I’m not sure about that, but I will say, if you prefer to eat and lay about all day with minimal exercise, you’re a loser and lazy. Being lazy never did anybody any good. I don’t know what to say. If you like fat chicks and boredom, this feature will rock your houseboat. Me, I f**king hate fatties and one was enough for me.
Killer Guise: √√√√
Final Girl: √√
RATING: No Stars