By Ben Bussey
There are many approaches a no-budget horror movie can take in order to stand apart from the crowd, but surely one of the most effective is to come up with the silliest premise imaginable. So many cash-strapped productions shoot themselves in the foot from the off by trying to play it too straight, and/or make something that aspires to big budget horror standards, when those behind the camera clearly have neither the means nor the know-how to measure up. Happily, director Stephen Tramontana and co hold no illusions about making the next mainstream breakthrough indie horror. Instead, they went and made the most knowingly dumb horror movie they could, with very little money and a monster made out of rainbow-coloured paper.
It all begins when a hapless father walks into a party supplies store and, naturally, completely forgets what his wife has sent him there to buy for their son’s birthday – except, that is, for a piñata. In fact, he winds up buying three of the things so their son can personally choose which one he wants to bash the shit out of. Unfortunately, one of this candy-filled trio is not like the others: it’s alive, possessed with a vengeful, murderous spirit. Happily this doesn’t show its face during the young ‘uns birthday celebrations; but when the college-age daughter Lindsey (Eliza-Jane Morris) is left home alone for the weekend and has a few friends over, it’s time for that paper mule to show his kick.
Tramontana pitches the film as what happened when a bunch of friends ran out of 1-star rated no budget horror movies to watch on Netflix, and decided to make their own. This very much comes across watching Killer Piñata. In-keeping with most contemporary microbudget DV-shot horror, it’s very basic aesthetically, has a small central cast, and plays out almost entirely in a single location, with laughably unconvincing special FX. But of course, this is all largely the point. Naturally no one’s going to sit down to watch a movie about a possessed piñata who poops poisonous candy and think they’re about to see the next Martyrs. It’s abundantly clear throughout that no one involved is taking any of it too seriously, and from start to finish there are plenty of nods to the camera (literally in at least one instance) that reassure the audience that the filmmakers are entirely aware that the movie they’re making is – if you’ll pardon the phrase – utterly retarded. Thankfully, though, it isn’t all nudge-wink self-conscious silliness with no bona fide humour. The script from Tramontana and Megan McManus boasts some fairly sharp, witty dialogue at points – though, this being a no-budget movie, some of this loses its sharpness thanks to the fairly flat sound mix.
Still, the whole enterprise is so unassuming and good-humoured that it’s easy to forgive its many failings, even though it does commit a few of what I would consider cardinal sins of no-budget schlock horror: for one thing, it outstays its welcome just a little at a full 90 minutes in length; it might have benefited from slightly tighter editing, and a little less relationship-based dialogue. We also have a sex scene in which both participants are clearly still clothed from the waist down; these always grate on me, as I just don’t see the point of including a sex scene if you’re not going to really go for it. Still, in this instance the overall comedy value of the scene makes it entirely worthwhile.
As far as absurdist horror comedies featuring small puppet monsters, multi-coloured vomit and dick jokes go, Killer Piñata doesn’t come close to topping Dustin Mills’ Easter Casket; but then, I’m pretty certain this is one movie that was never intended to be the best anything. Ultimately, I can give no higher recommendation than this: should you find it on a Netflix search, you’re in the mood for something dumb and you’ve got nothing better to do, this is definitely one to watch.
Killer Piñata is available now via Amazon, Vimeo, and the Killer Piñata site.