Directors Bill Leslie and Terry Lofton get almost everything wrong in this trash masterpiece.
Welcome to So Bad It’s Great. This recurring segment will champion films that may not be good in the conventional sense that had their heart in the right place. The titles featured here will be overly earnest, unintentionally silly, and undeniably fun. Strap in and enjoy the ride!
In this edition of this feature, we will be taking a look back at Bill Leslie and Terry Lofton’s enthusiastic but terribly inept slasher, Nail Gun Massacre.
The flick opens with a young woman being sexually assaulted by a gang of vile men. Several months after the incident, people begin turning up dead at the hands of a killer in a motorcycle helmet. Could the seemingly unrelated events be connected? You’d better believe it.
This is a film that, in spite of countless shortcomings, is almost impossible not to enjoy. Everything about it is misguided. From the uninspired dialogue to the overly eager performances. Yet, I keep coming back to it. I find that I can’t resist the charms of Nail Gun Massacre. The picture’s appeal comes from a variety of factors that work together in perfect harmony to make it almost unwatchable. But somehow, it circles back around to being stupid fun.
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The film demonstrates ineptitude in a number of ways but a few of my favorite examples are the way the camera awkwardly lingers on minutia far longer than it should; the background music that plays so loudly it overshadows the dialogue; and characters that vanish from the narrative without rhyme or reason. Any one of these factors on its own might be possible to look past. But when all the pieces are assembled, Nail Gun Massacre really shines as a masterclass in how not to make a film. With that said, the flick’s shortcomings are supremely entertaining.
One of the film’s most noticeable shortcomings is that it’s all over the place, tonally. Is it a rape/revenge flick or is it a horror-comedy? I don’t know. And I don’t think the directors were quite sure, either. The fact that one doesn’t really know if they’re supposed to laugh or be afraid makes this a disaster from which one cannot easily look away.
The dialogue was clearly written by someone that has never had a conversation with or experienced the companionship of another human. Real people don’t talk like (or act like) the people in this film. In one memorable instance, a woman tells her boyfriend that her breasts are lonely and need attention. Only her breasts, mind you. Everything else is apparently fine…?
Furthering the lunacy is the woman at the lumber yard who chases after two characters that purchased lumber to chastise them for leaving their receipt behind. She’s not just unpleasant. She actually starts swearing at them and treats them like incompetent buffoons over a sales receipt. I couldn’t say how that was supposed to add to the narrative but it certainly makes for a good chuckle.
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In an equally memorable exchange, a man relieving himself in the woods accidentally urinates on the killer, to which the killer replies, “Well, you just pissed me off”. But wait, it gets even worse. After the killer plugs the guy full of nails, the helmeted perpetrator follows up with, “I bet this will stop that leak”. And have I mentioned the killer is using a voice distorter that makes all of their dialogue sound tinny and robotic?
This was clearly made on the cheap. And that’s painfully apparent when a character obviously flubs their line but just powers through instead of opting for another take. Or what about the scene where a victim keels over, lands on a barbecue grill, and uses his hand to steady himself after he is supposed to be dead?
Much of the film’s charm comes from the overly-earnest approach to almost everything. That overzealous methodology makes this flick stand out as a masterwork of ineptitude. Nothing about it is good in the conventional sense. But everything works together to be so bad it’s great.
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