Another amazingly inept, woeful, howl inducing horror outing from producer William Mishkin and anti-genius Andy Milligan - again set in a big house, and again stuffed full of people unable to spell the word ‘acting’ let alone carry it out. Surprisingly, this could be Milligan’s most competent film. It actually has dialogue you can hear, kooky music and a start and an ending with - get this - a plot jammed in between - sort of.
Some films inspire people to do things. At their best, they can inspire deep feelings, heartfelt actions, and art beyond the film itself.
Beyond the Lost World might actually accomplish some of these things, but not because it sets out to do so. No, it might inspire feelings, but they'll probably be rage or depression. It might inspire actions, such as throwing your copy of the film on a roaring fire. And it might inspire art, but only because a viewer will think “Jesus, I can make something better than this movie.”
It’s no secret that most of Steven Seagal’s straight to video efforts stink. There have been a few that manage to rise above abysmal and can be watched without cursing everyone involved in making the film. Ruslan and The Keeper fall into this category; while they’re not likely to make any new Seagal fans, they at least offer some entertaining violence, and Seagal actually seemed to show up to the set for work most of the time.
Colour, 16mm jungle sex swings from a vine and dangles its leafy salami in your face. Chris Robin is Jayne, a blonde airhead in a fur bikini who goes for a scrub in a stream. A man in a monkey suit (Al Martin) attacks the damp and terrified lady until Tarzan (the aptly branded Duane Prodd) shows up and stabs the manky monkey in the balls with a jungle knife.
Looking for the worst Christmas special of all time? I can't say for sure that Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny is that film but if there's something worse I don't want to know about it. It's worse than the Star Wars Holiday Special, and I don't say that lightly. Some evil bastard must have thought this would be a great way to get kids to commit suicide for the holidays; forcing them to watch this should be considered child abuse.
Freddie Kruger has his Elm Street, Jason Vorhees has his lake, and in this, spry, fake-ass 'behind the scenes' feature we meet Leslie Vernon of Glenn Echo, Oregon—a soon to be infamous 'supernatural' serial killer who is shown prepping his legend, working out and explaining the hows and whys of his chosen profession to a student film crew who follow him around.