Review by Louis Fowler | Kingdom of Hell Productions
Before I watched SLAUGHTERED VOMIT DOLLS, I had a tuna fish sandwich and some macaroni and cheese.
By the end, it was all over my shirt.
I’m sure to hear that would make director (and admitted vomit fetishist) Lucifer Valentine 666 a very happy camper indeed. SLAUGHTERED VOMIT DOLLS is the first film to ever make me sick. And it wasn’t the gore – from the vivisectional dismemberments to the lovingly slow-mo eyeball gougings, I could handle all that. It was the multiple instances of on-screen puking that did me in. The scene that did it exactly – wherein a guy throws up in a mug, drinks it and repeats this act ad nauseum (no pun intended) – was the one that sent Kraft Cheesy Mac dribbling down my chin.
But other than that, how was the play Mrs. Lincoln?
The thing about SVD you have to realize is that’s it the 21st century ERASERHEAD – it’s more of a jarring, scarring experience than it is a movie made for entertainment’s sake. It has little to no discernable plot; instead, it’s merely a parade of strung together, oddly connected glimpses into the world of a bulimic prostitute who, after making a pact with the devil on-camera, may or may not be involved in a series of tortures and executions of various girls. The ladies are defaced in numerous horrific ways, all with a brutally unsettling realism that will have you squirming and asking for proof the actresses are still alive. Vomit works it’s way into these scenarios, in the most consistently depraved ways. In one scene, a guy sticks a severed hand down his throat to induce vomiting. In another (that had me dry heaving), brains are eaten directly out of a head and then vomited back into the cranial opening.
The thing that sets SVD apart from other films like this – and why it earns the ERASERHEAD comparison – is that the film is so incredibly stylish. It’s an art film straight from Hell. Jumbled images, swirling sonic distortions, worn film stocks, guttural voices that can’t be possibly human and that fact that Valentine’s (and his actors) ability and willingness to put every deplorable act imaginable on-screen is a feat worthy of Buñuel, Pasolini or, an emetophiliac Kenneth Anger.
SLAUGHTERED VOMIT DOLLS is not for everyone – Hell, it was barely for me. But the fact that it’s a rare work of art that rises above the archetypical dregs that can be the no-budget horror ghetto, that alone is worth 70 minutes of your time.
Just remember to bring a bucket.
