My Valentine? A Horror Anthology of Course!

Like many a horror fan whose genre life was crafted in the 1980s, I have an automatic affection for the anthology. Hence, when my pal and Fozzie Bare (he of the fine Walking Dead/True Blood/Other Stuff podcast Fozzie & Tina) recommended one that I’d NEVER HEARD OF streaming on Netflix Instant, I was there before you could say ‘killer doll segment.’

And then, Christmas repeated itself in January when I learned that not only does Screamtime include a violent puppet chapter, it ALSO boasts a KILLER GARDEN GNOME STORY. 

Yes, I played the lotto that day. 

Quick Plot: Like most anthologies, we begin with a wraparound. Unlike most anthologies, this one is superior to almost everything that’s ever happened in the world as we know it.

A pair of New Yawkahs slips into a video store. Despite the VERY tempting poster for The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas, the fellas instead swipe a trio of VHS tapes, hop on the R train, and barge into one of their gal pal’s apartment’s because “we just wanna watch some mooovies!” 

So they do.

The first segment follows a British puppeteer with an unsupportive wife and delinquent stepson. As you can probably guess, his Punch doll takes matters into his own tiny wooden hands with a giant wooden paddle. It’s both adorable and slightly creepy, especially since Punch makes some strange chomping giggle noises as he beats his enemies to death. 

Story 2 is surprisingly eerie, as a young married couple get torn apart by the wife’s strange visions of a bloody massacre. To say more begins to spoil the twist (a typical trope of any anthology segment), but the segment has some decently staged jump scares, as well as some kickass oversized glasses and a wonderfully mod Twister-like comforter that kept me distracted any time our characters were under the covers.

The final tale is about a down on his luck young man who takes a gardening job with a pair of wealthy but kooky old ladies. Just as the story begins to drag, The Greatest Thing Ever takes place: our villainous thief of a main character gets attacked by a little person dressed like a garden gnome.

At this point, I obviously did what any rightminded movie-lover would do: paused Screamtime to rate it 5 stars on Netflix, and then resumed to watch the conclusion of the brilliantly out of place wraparound. I was not disappointed.

Screamtime is surprisingly mysterious when it comes to research. The film is credited to director “Al Beresford,” though IMDB lists its makers as Stanley A. Long and Michael Mark of the Devil Armstrong. I don’t know who handled which story, but there’s clearly a divide between the fairly professional feeling segments (all British) and the wonderfully hilarious New Yawk framing device. It’s possible that the segments were abbreviated full-length films or aborted television pilots, and it’s probable that the wraparound was smacked on the finished project during someone’s lunch break. The result is uneven (particularly following the well-executed second story) but overall, more enjoyable than a whole lot of straight to video purgatory genre films made during the ‘80s. 

I don’t JUST say that because stuff like this happens:

Okay, *maybe* that has SOMETHING to do with my possibly unreasonable love for this film, but what can a doll-fearing, anthology loving, shortie-embracing blogger say?

High Points

I do mean it when I say that the second story is GENUINELY a good little horror story

Low Points

It ultimately doesn’t matter because it has GARDEN GNOMES COMING TO LIFE IN THE FORM OF AN ANGRY LITTLE PERSON IN A POINTY HAT, but for some time, the third story drags

Lessons Learned

British bystanders are the least helpful

You can tell a movie is British by the way they talk (or tawk)

Nervous breakdowns are very sad

Random Burst of Meta Commentary

A radio program playing during one of the stories makes a passing reference to Mary Whitehouse, that uninformed beacon of misplaced good intentions who foolishly crusaded against the Video Nasties of the 1980s

Rent/Bury/Buy

I’m not quite sure I’d never heard of Screamtime, but darnit am I glad I did now! The film is currently streaming on Instant Watch, and at just 90 minutes long, it’s a pretty fun way to buzz through an evening. Especially when you consider the tragic rarity of garden gnome horror movies.

Rollerpocalypse (sans bras)

1986 was a pretty amazing year. In a triumphant season of homeruns, rapping, and Ivory soap ads, the New York Mets won the World Series. A little animation studio named Pixar was formed. Halley’s Comet appeared for freezing cold East Coast early birds to view and Geraldo Rivera discovered the most anticipated bottle of moonshine ever.

And perhaps most importantly, a post-apocalyptic film about roller skating was made by Donald G. Hell Comes to Frogtown Jackson. 

Quick Plot: In the second dark age in the city of lost angels (according to the title cards), an all-female cult clad in red phallic headdresses protects a magical crystal from an evil luchador-esque masked (over a pink winter ski mask) man and his borscht belt comic hand puppet.

I know right? Been there, done that!

I should specify that the ‘cult’ I speak of is none other than the Cosmic Order of the Roller Blades, the self-proclaimed ‘only force on earth where all weapons and battle techniques are converted into tools of love.’ Because, you see, in the second dark age of humanity, the world has been overrun by folks on roller skates. Yes, four-wheeled skates, as the invention we now know as the ‘roller blade’ was still some years from widespread popularity. As my knowledge of things on wheels is composed entirely of what I’ve learned from the movies, we’ll assume the modern roller blade was born in 1991, since that’s when it appears in Silent Night Deadly Night 5: The Toymaker.

Back on track--or rink, roller pun zap!--the evil Dr. Saticoy and his puppet right-hand-man (literally) enlist the skills of a blond rollergirl to infiltrate the Roller Blades and steal the crystal. It’s a lot of work, considering he could probably have found an even nicer one in any 50 cent gum ball machine. Still, we don’t get to see a lot of roller nuns naked unless this plot unfolds, so unfold away, ye madness!

The good get a sapphic nude bathtub baptism; the bad get a sapphic nude wrestling match. All speak with the occasional sprinkling of ye olde English and sport hip high wedgie-making undies. None wear bras.

Seriously, for any modern woman who enjoys comfort, this IS the dark ages.

Roller Blade, as you might now realize, is not the easiest film to recap in terms of what you commonly call ‘story.’ I think there was one, as evidenced by the important subplot of the Roller Marshall (you read that right)’s son being kidnapped by the bad guy. There’s the matter of the crystal, which will bring about an even darker age (maybe?) where I can only assume roller skates are replaced by something even more nefarious, like unicycles or pogo sticks or that impossible ‘80s toy that looked like Saturn and was designed for you to stand around a bouncing ball and not break your ankle. Primarily, there are a lot of boobs and an almost comparable amount of camel toe.

That’s about as ringing an endorsement as I can make for Roller Blade. It’s as ridiculous and insane as its cover art suggests, plus a little more. By a little, I mean the mother superior of the Cosmic Order of the Roller Blades is a wheelchair bound woman named Mother Speed who laments about the olden days, “when we skated for fun. Now we skate or die.” This is a heartfelt memory, and kind of all you need to know in order to judge whether Roller Blade will rock your world.

High Points

You can’t argue with the imagination of the film, right?

Low Points

I know this is besides the point, but I find it pretty impossible to believe that some of those roller superstar females would go bralass based on their bust size. There is back pain to consider folks!

Lessons Learned

Recycled Saticoy brand batteries have very short lifespans

Tears will cause thy wheels to rust

If one can only venture outside on roller skates, it’s probably a good idea to learn how to, you know, roller skate when as soon as you’re able to walk

Skin-melting acid will not harm your body if you immediately remove all clothing as soon as it touches you

The future will mean the rise of mohawks and death to bras

Rent/Bury/Buy

I scored my copy of Roller Blades at last year’s Chiller Theater convention along with the new Doll’s House classic The Refrigerator and the soon-to-be-watched Slashdance. It’s a VHS transfer, and one that you can probably find lurking on youtube or at your local gray market dealer. It’s pure 80s cheese in the most delightfully ridiculous of ways. The film won’t change your life like, say, The Stabilizer, but it will most definitely entertain your pals at the local roller rink!