Friday 4 – Saturday 5 April 2014
I’m about to confess one of my guilty pleasures. I say guilty pleasure, but I’m not entirely sure that I actually get pleasure from it, at least not in a conventional way, and I definitely don’t think that I really feel guilty about it. The term ‘guilty pleasure’ seemed to be a good way to begin the post. Anyway, I digress . . .
Like many people, I enjoy watching movies. No, that’s not my guilty pleasure. I like most genres, with the exception of war movies, and I can’t say that I’m terribly fond of romance flicks either, unless it’s something like Ghost, Notting Hill, or Four Weddings And A Funeral. Y’know, movies that aren’t strictly romance, but are cross-genre types like romantic comedies. Mostly I get into horror flicks, and have done since I was young. There’s one particular sub-genre of horror movie that I, well, I don’t really want to say that I enjoy watching them because it’s not enjoyment. It’s more that I think I’m doing my best to desensitise myself by watching them. Now, I’ve mentioned my feelings about zombie movies – they make me squirm, but I still watch them. This sub-genre causes similar reactions in me.
They’re what I refer to as redneck-hillbilly-sisterf*#ker movies. Yes, it’s a highly descriptive term that covers all movies that involve redneck-hillbilly-sisterf*#ker mutant freaks. And yeah, I mean that to sound exactly the way it did. More politely, these films are often referred to as ‘Backwoods Horror Movies’. I’m talking movies like The Hills Have Eyes, Wrong Turn, Wrong Turn 2, Wrong Turn 3, Wrong Turn 4, Wrong Turn 5, Wrong Turn 6 (which is slated for release this year), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Cabin Fever, House Of 1000 Corpses, The Devil’s Rejects, Dying Breed (an Aussie addition where the descendants of Alexander “The Pie Man” Pearce are the antagonists), and of course, the precursor to all of the modern backwoods flicks, Deliverance.
Yep, these are the kinds of films that are sorta my guilty pleasure. Mind you, as the title of this posts suggests, a viewing of these films makes me cringe, feel an incredible level of discomfort in parts, and I suffer through butt-clenching tension. Still, sometimes I just can’t help myself, and I have a bit of a redneck-hillbilly-sisterf*#ker movie marathon. I’m having a couple of days (as of writing this post, this weekend) of said movie marathon. I’ve picked up The Hills Have Eyes, and Wrong Turn 2, 3, and 4. Unfortunately, as much as I’ve tried, it is nigh on impossible to get a copy of the original Wrong Turn any more. Anyhoo . . .
The premise of this sub-genre is very similar across the films. City folk are, for whatever reason, heading to some place and inevitably, they either get lost or they take a back road through the woods as a shortcut. The resident red-neck hillbilly sister-f*#kers usually have all manner of booby traps set up through the woods, and out along the dirt back roads, because that’s how they get their food, and their breeders. Once the inbred mutant freaks have been discovered, the protagonists start dropping off, one by one, as they are attacked, captured, tortured, eaten (or saved for later), and if they’re female, often they end up in the clutches of the family as the new breeding stock.
Usually, one or two protagonists may escape from the terrible situation in which they find themselves. Perhaps with the assistance of the local law enforcement, the remaining protagonists fight back, and if they’re lucky, they manage to eliminate the inbred family. And if they don’t cull those rascally lil inbreds, then you know that a) just before the credits roll, all who have survived will be once again picked off by the mutant freaks, b) the producers are setting us up for a sequel, or c) both a and b are in play.
So, what do I get out of watching these redneck-hillbilly-sisterf*#ker movies? I may not be able to deal with a zombie apocalypse – you’ll remember, Regular Reader, that I wrote a post called Well Played, Hollywood, Well Played, about how zombie movies make me feel – but I reckon that I’ve learned enough to get myself outta any scrapes with redneck, hillbilly, inbred, mutant, freak, sisterf*#kers. And the key to getting yourself outta those scapes is very simple: don’t get into them in the first place! Don’t take the back road through the woods. Don’t agree to be on any reality TV shows that are Survivoresque and require you to be stranded with a group of useless, self-centred jerks in the middle of the dense West Virginian woods. Don’t insult the redneck, hillbilly, sisterf*#kers when you go into their store to buy provisions. Just stay the hell away from the woods, people. And if you must, for whatever dumba$$ reason, wander through the woods, make sure that you’re wearing something like cargo pants, a T-shirt, some sort of thick jacket to protect against the cold, and either trainers or hiking boots . . . and if it’s at all possible, make sure you have some sort of weaponry, like hand guns, rifles, shotguns, or at the very least, a bloody big axe! Chainsaws, whilst you might think they’re a good idea, are notorious for not starting at the important moment when you need them, but will kick into life when the inbred mutant freak uses it.
Other simple rules to follow include: avoid empty hospitals/sanitoriums/sanitariums/deserted buildings/paper mills/cabins in the woods; don’t go camping or road tripping with guys who are d!ckheads, or girls who are promiscuous because they’re the ones who get you all killed; when one of your group says, ‘Hey, let’s get outta here,’ listen to them, and get the hell outta there; if you’re trapped in a building, don’t go upstairs because, at some point, you’re gonna have to go downstairs to escape, and that could possibly be out of the window, resulting in you being impaled on some piece of torturous farm machinery; watch where you’re going, these f*#kers set up booby traps in the woods, and in their houses; don’t try and rationalise with them, they’re redneck, hillbilly, sisterf*#kers, and they can’t be dealt with in a logical manner; don’t scream because screaming people allow the red neck, hillbilly, sisterf*#kers to know exactly where in their woods you are, you moron! How many times do you need to be told not to scream? You deserve to die because you led the inbred straight to us!
Of course, the biggest, most important thing I’ve picked up from watching these movies is this: when you get the chance to kill the redneck, hillbilly, sisterf*#kers, bloody well do it. If you don’t take that opportunity to make sure they’re good and dead, you may as well kiss your life goodbye. So, get that trusty axe, and behead those inbred freaks. Look, if you have no intention of killing them before they kill you, do not, I repeat, do not ask me to go out into the woods with you, because you’ll only slow me down when we have to run. And if you fall behind, sorry, you’re on your own. I’m getting the hell outta there, with or without you.