Hair of the Dog (2003)
Directed by Terry Wickham
Written/Produced by Tim Clark
Starring Chris Weir, John Dylan-Howard, Doris Dany, Melanie Brown
(Mantaray)

New York based production company Mantaray have constructed a tightly-wound, almost full length (ok, half- it’s 45 minutes long) neo-slasher that rides a taut edge between Twilight Zone-ish murder mystery and full on hack n’ slash absurdity. It features fluid DV camerawork that alternates between Evil Dead styled tracking shots and small screen- friendly, Mexican soap operatic close-ups, and a soundtrack that boasts (if yer so inclined) a soundtrack with cuts by Symphony X guitarist Michael Romeo and Queensryche drummer Scott Rockenfield. Ahem. Ok, so director Terry Wickham is kind of a horror/prog-metal geek (he also writes for Rue Morgue and Guitar magazines), but he still made a kick ass little movie here.

The plot involves Alex Blakely (Chris Weir, who looks like either one of the guys on Wings- the TV show, not the band), a slumming lawyer, who wakes up one morning face-up on his living room floor with a black eye (been there). He goes outside to find his sports car in the bushes, and a bloody knife on the passenger seat (been there, too). Of course, he can’t remember a fuckin’ thing- Jager binge, ya know- so he calls up his bestest buddy, the cleverly named Trevor Larkin (John Dylan-Howard – Tommy Lee in Japanese silk pajamas, pretty much), and the two of them try to piece the vaguely alarming night together.

Trevor is up to all sorts of nonsense. When we first chance upon him, he’s talking some pornstress out of appearing in one of his movies, because she’s a “cute kid”, and he doesn’t want to get her involved in his madness. Sure, this has never, ever happened in the entire history of pornography, but just keep telling yourself, it’s only a movie. Alex hitches a ride with his born-again neighbor over to Trevor’s decidedly bare-bones bachelor pad/smut production studio, and the two of them yell at each other for awhile. Turns out, ol’ Trev’s gone from Skinemax-styled soft-core into underground rape-fetish flicks, and when you go that far over the edge, who knows what kinda monkey business is going to ensue?

Well, 'Bloody' Mary Jenkins knows. She’s a serial killer-ess, ya see, who traps and kills both rape video producers and the lawyers that represent them. Which means, of course, that Alex and Trevor are both fucked. Bikini/fitness model Doris Dany, sort of a cross between internet star Cindy Margolis and that one Latina nude model, ably plays Bloody Mary with psychotic, Jason Voorhees-like intensity. Alex and Trevor both desperately try and figure out whose blood is on the knife, never suspecting that maybe they’re the ones in mortal danger, completely unaware that screaming, bloody, chainsaw madness is headed their way- in black stretch jeans and a Wonderbra, even.

Producer/Screenwriter Tim Clark does a great job of pacing the first half of Hair of the Dog with deliberate, well-planned plot developments, and then ratcheting the whole thing into overdrive for the splattery denouement. The cast is uniformly solid and believable- Alex looks authentically superfreaked at the climax- and really, HOTD completely subverts it’s minuscule budget and odd running time. It’s not nearly as sleazy as it’s subject matter would suggest (although the glimpse of fabricated porn flick “Strap on Suzy 2” proves Mantaray could get down and dirty anytime they wanted-mebbe next time we'll even see some actual skin), but what the hell. So, is it art, or exploitation? Baby, it’s a horror show. The good kind.

Hair of the Dog is easily the best flick that stole its name from a Nazareth song since teen spanking epic “Love Hurts”, and I look forward to seeing what these inventive Mantaray characters come up with next.

-Sleazegrinder