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‘Flesheater’ – The Gory and Sleazy Pleasures of Bill Hinzman’s Ode to ‘Night of the Living Dead’

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Flesheater Bill Hinzman

It doesn’t need to be said that George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead is one of THE most influential independent films of all time. The various strands of its web reach far and wide in the world of film – not just horror. What might not be as well-known however, is that Romero wasn’t the only bona-fide filmmaker of the crew that brought Night to life.

One such individual is the “Cemetery Zombie” himself, Bill Hinzman. Aside from playing what is arguably the most important zombie in modern horror film history, Hinzman was also a camera operator on Night of the Living Dead and became a regional filmmaker of his own.

Wanting to revisit the Cemetery Zombie in some fashion, Bill Hinzman wrote, directed, edited and starred in Flesheater in 1988 – his sleazy ode to Romero and Night of the Living Dead.

Flesheater Bill Hinzman zombies

Just like Night, Flesheater was shot locally in rural Pennsylvania with friends, family, and local talent. Regional horror is known for its flavor of authenticity despite working with miniscule budgets, and Flesheater oozes that charm from scene to scene. There is no story to speak of – a zombie once buried in some kind of satanic ritual (the film only mentions satanic shenanigans once in an off-handed way) is accidently freed from his special coffin and proceeds to much and crunch any warm body in his way, thus creating an ever-growing zombie horde in his wake.

There is something about that Pennsylvanian countryside that makes for a spooky backdrop to your low budget zombie epic. The sky is always overcast in steel grey cloud cover and the hills seem to roll on forever and ever; creating a true sense of isolation to the proceedings.

Despite the acting talent in the film being universally, well, amateur to say the least, Bill Hinzman is able to imbue Flesheater with a creepy sense of dread he sustains for a breezy 80 some odd minutes of undead fun. What struck during my first viewing of the film was how Hinzman actually managed to surprise me with the mean-spirited tone of the film. Flesheater starts off one way with a certain set of characters and you think you know exactly how it will go from the opening minutes. But no, Hinzman pulls the rug out from under you.

Nobody is safe. Once the titular Flesheater of the title is free in the opening minutes, the film barrels from one gory set piece to the next and never bothers trying to be anything more than a good time. There are no central characters. There are morals and lessons or themes. Flesheater is Bill Hinzman having fun and making a movie his friends and family.

The special effects were handled by Jerry Gergley, who has credits such as Babylon 5 and the remake of My Bloody Valentine under his belt. I think it’s safe to say that the real star of the film is the gore. We get plenty of icky bites, a zombie punching its arm though a stomach, ripped out organs, splattery zombie kills, and a few other odds and ends I won’t spoil.

The gore isn’t as epically grotesque as say, Romero’s Day of the Dead; but it won’t leave you wanting.

As mentioned above, Flesheater is indeed a low budget, regional, indie horror film. Depending on people’s taste and preferences, their mileage may vary when it comes to embracing what the film is offering. Flesheater is very competently made. Hinzman is no hack, but the cast being comprised of non-actors is a treasure chest of awkward dialogue delivery and laughable performances. We’re horror fans though; these things are often a feature, not a bug.

Flesheater is one of those modest little horror gems that makes you want to share it around with all your pals so they can enjoy its homegrown delights. It’s a perfect “beer and pizza” flick. There is something refreshing about watching a horror film as absolutely unpretentious as this one. It’s not trying to be clever. It’s not trying to be subversive. It’s not even trying to say anything. It has one goal: to be as entertaining as possible.

As a work of no-frills zombie entertainment and as a tertiary piece of the legacy of George A. Romero, seek out Flesheater. It’s a hoot. You can grab it on 4K from Vinegar Syndrome!

Flesheater Bill Hinzman 1988

Editorials

‘The Company of Wolves’ at 40: One of the Most Underrated Werewolf Movies Ever Made

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There’s a compelling idea in anthropology that many ancient werewolf legends are derived from our species’ need to rationalize the more animalistic side of humanity – which is why lycanthropy has historically been used to explain everything from medieval serial killers to cannibalism. While I personally think there’s a lot more to unpack when it comes to tales of wolfmen and women, this is still a great example of why so many of our most enduring fairy tales involve big bad wolves.

And in the world of film, I think there’s only one feature that really nails the folkloric origins of werewolf stories, namely Neil Jordan’s 1984 fairy-tale horror classic, The Company of Wolves. Even four decades later, there’s no other genre flick that comes close to capturing the dreamlike ambience behind this strange anthology, and that’s why I’d like to take this opportunity to look back on one of the most underrated werewolf flicks ever made.

The Company of Wolves was originally a short story contained in the 1979 anthology The Bloody Chamber, a collection of deconstructed fairy-tales intended for mature readers penned by English author Angela Carter. With the book quickly becoming a hit as readers became fascinated with its subversion of classic folk stories and (then) controversial feminist undertones, it was soon transformed into a duology of BBC radio-dramas which adapted both The Company of Wolves and Carter’s reimagining of Puss-in-Boots.

These radio-dramas soon attracted the attention of then up-and-coming Irish filmmaker Neil Jordan, who decided to meet with Carter to discuss expanding on her stories and bringing them to life on the big screen. The duo soon realized that a single short story wasn’t enough material for a feature-length film, so they decided to adapt all of Carter’s werewolf tales into a single anthology.

With a completed script and a $2.3 million budget, Jordan decided to tackle the project like a hybrid between a theatrical period drama and a schlocky monster movie. Effects-heavy creature features were a hot commodity back in the ’80s, with films like The Howling and An American Werewolf in London proving that there was an audience for horrific lycanthrope transformations, so the director soon recruited a team that could turn this odd collection of feminist folk stories into something commercially viable.

Not exactly a great pick for family movie night.

Shooting would eventually take place almost entirely within the England-based Shepperton Studios, with notable production designer Anton Furst (who would later be known for his work on Tim Burton’s Batman films) helping to bring Jordan’s vision of a darkly romantic fairy-tale world to life. Appropriately enough, production would also involve a real pack of trained wolves (as well as a collection of dyed dogs), though extensive puppetry and animatronics were also used to flesh out the more gruesome parts of the flick.

After a grueling nine-week shoot where budgetary constraints led to corners being cut on props and costumes, The Company of Wolves was finally released in September of 1984 – just in time for spooky season. In the finished film, we follow the strange dreams of a sulky teenage girl named Rosaleen (first-time actress Sarah Patterson) as the film unravels an Arabian-Nights-inspired tapestry of both familiar and not-so-familiar stories about big bad wolves.

From sexually charged cautionary tales to parables about female empowerment, this surreal collection of deranged bedtime stories is much more than the creature feature that the marketing initially suggested. Like a more horror-oriented version of Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, The Company of Wolves exudes that same kind of hormonal teenage energy that transports us back to a time when the world was both scary and exciting in equal measure.

That’s not to say that this is an entirely pleasant experience, however, and I’m not just talking about the film’s horror elements. A big portion of the flick’s overtly sexual moments involve the then 13-year-old Patterson coming to grips with her blossoming womanhood and the dangers of predatory men (usually marked with a humorous unibrow), something that naturally makes for some intentionally uncomfortable viewing – especially in the year of our lord 2024.

Obviously, I don’t think it’s my place to dissect (or even judge) the effectiveness of the film’s commentaries on being a young woman, but even as a man I can still appreciate the thought and care that went into crafting this Jungian cocktail of serious themes in a genre-movie package that almost certainly went on to inspire future werewolf movies like Ginger Snaps.

Not the worst wedding I’ve been to.

That being said, what really keeps me coming back to the film is the absurd amount of memorable imagery. From a wedding party being taken over by canines to lonely treks through snowy groves, this is exactly the gloomy world I imagined as a child when reading Grimms’ Fairy Tales – and the dreamy atmosphere is only enhanced by the movie’s overall theatricality.

This also extends to the effects, as it’s easy to forgive decapitated dummy heads and ripped rubber skin when everything is happening in a magical hyper-reality, with a great example of this is being the scene where Grandma’s head unexpectedly explodes like a porcelain doll when it’s knocked off by a wolfman. That’s not to say that the effects are bad, as several of these transformations are downright grisly and likely influenced future lycanthrope effects like those in Underworld and even Trick ‘r Treat (even if the wolf-dogs here often look more cute than scary).

Of course, these aren’t the only things that The Company of Wolves has going for it, as the main trio of Patterson, Micha Bergese and the late, great Angela Lansbury exceptionally bring these exaggerated caricatures to life and the orchestral score is an absolute delight. I also really get a kick out of that bizarre ending implying that the dangers of adult life have literally come crashing into Rosaleen’s bedroom.

The Company of Wolves may not be a perfect film, suffering from some wonky pacing and the classic anthology problem where some stories are clearly much more enjoyable than others, but I’d argue that the flick’s iconic visuals and powerful thematic throughline more than make up for any minor flaws. And while we’ve seen bigger and better werewolf films since then, when it comes to adult-oriented fairy-tales, this is one psycho-sexual journey that is still worth revisiting 40 years down the line.

The Company of Wolves

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