Review – The Thirsty Dead

Women in the Philippines are kidnapped by men in Black Sabbath robes. They’re dragged off to the secret jungle lair of a bizarre religious cult that dresses in smocks left over from one of those episodes of the original Star Trek in which the Enterprise journeys to The Planet of the Dumbasses Who Have Invented Bright Fabric Dyes But Not Much Else. This particular set of dumbasses worships a head in a red plastic cube, which tells them that one of the kidnapped women (white of course, though of the four women the Head had a 75% chance of coming up Caucasian) will alter their society forever. Then it turns out that the cultists all stay eternally young by drinking the blood of … oh, who cares? On and on this stinker goes, using dreadful dialogue and stiff acting to drag every bit of action out to four or five times its natural length. Honestly, I left the room to take a call when one of the main characters started croaking, and when I came back several minutes later the guy still wasn’t dead. The only thing this crap-fest left me thirsty for was a tall, icy cold mug of nepenthe. Wish I’d skipped it