31 Days of Horror, Day 13: Bless This Mess, This Beautiful Mess
A madman is on the loose in the fair city of… well, I’m not exactly sure where this takes place, but the man is definitely mad and is most assuredly on the loose. He strikes without warning. No woman is safe. Not even your bullet-bra can save you.
It’s the early 1960s. People still worry about what the neighbors think. Love is a thing talked about, but rarely expressed. Men are made mostly of dough, sweat and stale cigarette smoke. You can still hire an Egyptian caterer to perform an ancient blood ritual for your daughter’s birthday party. You know, the good ol’ days.
Homicide detective Pete Thornton is trying to crack the case of the “person who is killing ladies and taking parts of their bodies as souvenirs.” As cleverly named cases go, it’s a work in progress, yet he still needs to solve it, and fast—for his girlfriend’s mother, Dorothy Fremont, has hired one Mr. Fuad Ramses to cater the birthday party of her daughter, Suzette.
Mr. Ramses chooses “Egyptian Feast” as theme of the party because he has many lady-leftovers he needs to unload before their “sell by” dates. He also chooses Suzette to be the sacrificial virgin for the gatecrashing party goddess Ishtar.
After figuring out the identity of the killer, using a clue that should have been obvious the moment he discovered it, Detective Thornton arrives to save the day—or night, as it sometimes alternates between the two several times per scene—and save Suzette’s life.
"Well, no, Suzette’s mother saved her. Thornton wasn’t even there yet," you say.
Okay, fine… he arrived just in time to catch the killer, Fuad Ramses. You have to give him credit for that one!
"Not a chance. Ramses was able to outrun the cops, despite the fact they had cars—AND not to mention the fact that he was a 100,000+ year old man with a limp. It was only luck that Ramses tried to hitch a ride in the back of a garbage truck, only to be crushed to death; the homicide cop accomplished exactly nothing. He failed," you say, rather smugly.
Okay, Detective Thornton sucked, but give him a break—he was only a week away from retirement, then probably only had another year or two before he dropped dead from a heart attack, statistically speaking. He WAS nearly 87 years old.
"Actually, the actor, William Kerwin, was only in his mid-thirties at the time; he only LOOKED 87. Get your facts straight," you say, like the jerk you are.
They say hate finds a way, yet I couldn’t help but love this mess of a movie. I mean, it’s obvious they they tried, in a way, and I have to respect that, since I’ve never once tried. Anything.
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