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March 24, 2008

Poultrygeist Trailer

— Posted by John Campea

My dear sweet heavens. The studio folks sent me this new trailer for Lloyd Kaufman’s “Poultrygesit: Night of the Chicken Dead“. This film played at the Toronto After Dark film festival this past October… and everyone who saw it said they were totally disgusted (in a good way) by it. Check it out… but be warned… this trailer is not for the faint of heart!

As a side note, don’t forget that Troma founder and Poultrygeist director Lloyd Kaufman is scheduled to be our guest on the Uncut LIVE show with us next Wednesday, April 2nd.

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11 thoughts on “Poultrygeist Trailer

  1. What can you say about a horror comedy in which the super-ultra-bland screenwriter who penned it has not one, not two, but three annoying high-concept horror ideas rolled into one? Troma’s latest film “Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead” wants to be ”Night of the Living Dead” crossed with ”The Toxic Avenger” crossed with “Poltergeist”. But the desperation of the screenwriter is right there in the ongepatshket mesh of that concept. Did I mention that it is also trying to be a musical? The movie, which features the low-budget splattergore spectacle of a restaurant filled with sexed up teens overrun by murderous chicken zombies and not a heck of a lot else, could almost be a metaphor for the awkwardness of retrofitting Troma’s bloody soft-porn indie film style to the been-there done revolution that Tarantino ushered in long ago. In an era of indie film where Trey Parker and Quentin Tarantino consistently push the envelope with schlocky b-movies played off as mainstreamed art, where exactly does Troma still fit in?

    From the moment that young Arbie (Jason Yachanin), who surely represents the dregs of Lloyd Kaufman’s relentless theme of laidless Boy syndrome, signs up as a clerk for a seedy fastfood restaurant, the movie is all cutesy updated fripperies of zombie movies from days past with zero momentum. (The blood-thirsty zombies now wear a bird’s beak, and so forth.) Quite honestly, you could nap for an hour and not miss a thing, but when the zombies finally wreak havoc upon the restaurant in the film’s final act, the film unleashes some pleasing visual make-up f/x fireworks. That’s where it should have started, not ended.

    More potent than anything in “Poultrygeist” is the fantasy offscreen: that if enough fanboys talk up their desire for fan films made by (and for) fans and, at the same time, take an overt delight in what an unabashed piece of junk it is, they will physically fuse with the hype, with the movie’s mystique. They will not just watch a Troma film; they will own it. That’s what longtime Troma fanboy and intern-turned-Troma’s editor Gabriel Friedman has finally achieved: a lifelong dream to make a Troma film of his own. You see, Gabe is one of those Troma groupies who works for pennies helping Troma producer Lloyd Kaufman make his no- budget films whilst convincing himself of the clever deception that this is somehow a form of indie film boot camp. This down and dirty hands-on experience, so goes the logic, makes you more prepared for Hollywood than any film school ever could. Get it? Sounds more like a sneaky ploy to acquire cheap labor insofar as Troma is concerned. However, after almost a decade of slaving away for indie film icon Lloyd Kaufman, Friedman has finally been rewarded with a chance to pen his own official Troma film. Certainly it IS a dream come true for any die-hard Troma fan. Or is it simply the manifestation of a creepy obsession carried too far? If you ever wondered what would happen if a stalker-turned fanboy had a chance to fulfill his dream of making a movie alongside his idol, then this film presents an interesting case study. It’s the logical conclusion of insecurity-turned-demented pathology gone untreated; a film company used as a form of therapy by a developmentally stunted youth. “Poultrygeist’s” main function seems to be to allow an insecure fanboy like Gabe to turn film-making into a form of one-upmanship — a desire for entertainment, yes, but also a celebration of an insecure fanboy’s desire for superiority over the film-making process itself; a selfish indulgence in the power of the groupie. For Gabe Friedman and a lot of fanboys obsessed with b-moviedom, it is the act of convincing themselves of the ultimate seductive lie: that there can’t be anything wrong with trying to ‘own’ the films (and filmmakers) you adore.

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