Terrifier 3

I’d like to be able to tell you that TERRIFIER 3 is not quite my cup of tea but then I went and slurped that putrid cup of tea down and thoroughly enjoyed it so I can’t. I respected the first two gore-happy TERRIFIER flicks that featured Art the clown (portrayed by David Howard Thornton whose hell-mime performance is beyond reproach) as decent enough edgy diversions (so too writer/director Damien Leone’s anthology debut ALL HOLLOWS EVE (2013) in which Art is portrayed by Mike Giannelli) but this new, more potent outing gave me something that I won’t forget too soon. Part of the reason it clobbered me so is because it’s mostly set on Christmas (I’m an Xmas horror fanatic) but the main weight of its body slam on me was due to the fact that I saw it in a packed theater and the audience’s excited, nearly giddy trepidation was palpable. Well, it turned out Leone’s sicko manifesto made me feel unsafe and challenged for its entire runtime which brought me fondly back to my earliest days of watching forbidden horror on VHS and sneaking into theaters as a kid to behold repulsions I wasn’t sure I could endure. BTW, I was kinda mortified (though not too surprised) that a couple brought their children with them to this unrated yuletide bloodbath. The oldest child couldn’t have been more than ten! I thought I was surely privy to a ground zero kindertrauma event and that the kids would drop like flies fleeing to the nearest exit (I at that age surely would have, I barely made it through JAWS) but when this cinematic onslaught of entrails completed, the entire family (and their last name wasn’t ADAMS) stood up and clapped while laughing maniacally. It was both a relief and more than a little bit disturbing.

If TERRIFIER 3 had only physical violence to offer I probably wouldn’t have been that effected (this was illustrated to me by the fact that I was more distraught about a rat being injured than any human (you know how I roll)). Beyond the wince inducing physical mayhem, Leone conjures an astonishing thick brew of truly malevolent deranged delirium (and it’s all deliciously dunked in clashing grainy and sparkling hues reminiscent of CHRISTMAS EVIL (’80) and SILENT NIGHT DEADLY NIGHT (’84)). I was honestly more taken aback and unnerved on a bad mojo level by Art’s corpse-y female cohort’s lipless grimace and the absolutely gruesome dilapidated home the rotting duo hibernate in than almost anything else. A tone is set early on (strangely enough by Art’s squirming about on its on accord, decapitated head) that exactly zero rules apply and the game board could be mercilessly knocked off the table and stomped on (like a poor rat) at any time. It really feels like a no holds barred, punk as hell, assault on normalcy in general that is bizarrely equally as liberating as it is psychologically assaulting (it’s probably for the best that poor misguided (but well-meaning) Siskel and Ebert did not live to see this day but it’s fun to imagine their jaws dropping through the cloud floor of heaven anyway). Will I ever watch this demented chaos grenade again? At first I thought definitely not, but then I remembered those seedy, unflinching mad dog dives into depravity from my youth (looking mostly at you MANIAC (’80), NIGHTMARE (’81) (which this film especially mirrors in its mad eeriness) and PIECES (’82)) that over the years morphed into adorable naughty puppies in my mind and then I wasn't so sure (who am I kidding? I’ll probably watch it every Christmas but sadly alone because there’s no way Aunt John could ever withstand it; dude tapped out of TURISTAS ('06)). I’m not saying this is the finest of film-making (Even at two hours, it still cheats a shortcut to its climax) but its pure audacity, refreshing transgressive nature and clear love of its intended audience shine brightly. One thing is for sure, like it or not, Art the clown is here to stay. Hey, every generation deserves its own horror icons and if earlier generations find them appalling, amoral or in just plain bad taste, well, that’s all the better!