{[['
']]}
']]}
Nobody actually drinks blood in I Drink Your Blood — though it made for one of the best-titled double billings, released alongside the inferior but still entertaining tribal zombie pic, I Eat Your Skin. But don’t let that disappoint you because I Drink Your Blood is an acid trip freakout of film about a rabies-infected cult of devil-worshipping hippies. Yeah, it’s a blast.
When the Satan-loving ne’er-do-wells roll into town, they brutalize a young woman, incurring the wrath of her grandfather. Naturally, they feed him drugs and rough him up, inspiring his grandson to feed the lot a batch of rabies-laced meat pies. From there, I Drink Your Blood becomes a trippy, thoughtless zombie movie (openly riffing on Night of the Living Dead) as the horde tears their way through town, foaming at the mouth and terrified of water, of all things. It’s those kinds of details that make the film such a rollicking, raucous piece of Grindhouse entertainment. You have to imagine director David E. Durston knew audiences would get a kick out of zombies being thwarted by a hose. My personal favorite moment? A man picks up a chair as his last line of defense, only to have it immediately snatched from his hands as on off-screen voice growls “Gimme that chair, you don’t need that!” Ridiculous.
Fair warning, I Drink Your Blood features some unfortunate animal cruelty; one of the ugliest trends that pops up in exploitation films. They kill a chicken and some rats on screen, and drag around a dead goat. It’s not as bad as some of the other films in the era (looking at you, cannibal movies), but it’s still hard to watch. But if you can look at that element through the historical lens of bad behavior from an era gone by, I Drink Your Blood is a sleazy, silly Grindhouse classic
Post a Comment