a no-budget sex and gore offering in the wake of other British exploitation vets like Pete Walker and Norman J. Warren, this cockeyed oddity instead plays like a parody of slasher films before they had even been fully developed (just consider, Halloween came out the same year). The entire film takes place out in the woods somewhere in Old Blightly, where a camping couple are disrupted in the middle of the night by a three-legged dog wearing a neckerchief. Deducing that the canine's missing appendage 
couldn't have been caused by an animal trap, they realize that something nasty must be afoot nearby. And indeed there is, as a busload of choirgirls (who spend the trip chanting "Greensleeves") finds out when they break down and have to take refuge at a bed and breakfast, which happens to be near a cottage insane asylum (huh?) where four lunatics have just escaped. But no, it's not enough for them to just be insane; nay, they've been undergoing medical treatment by which the doctors administer LSD and teach them to live their lives as if they're in a dream, which means their actions have no consequences. Exactly why they think this is good therapy is anyone's guess, and the appalled minister of the facility responds quite calmly, "In my dreams, I murder freely, pillage, loot and rape." Yes, of course. Pretty soon a handyman winds up axed, the girls are separated from their chaperones, and the four psychos (in full Clockwork Orange regalia) are holding them all hostage when not busy chasing runaways through the woods. And of course, the three-legged dog gets his revenge in one of the funniest scenes ever committed to film.
As director Alan Birkinshaw and one of the stars helpfully explain on the DVD, this film was originally written and planned as a straight-ahead boobs and blood outing with wooden dialogue and a few kills to keep the crowd happy. However, when some of the character interaction was turned over to sorta-feminist writer Fay Weldon (The Life and Loves of a She-Devil), something... well, changed, obviously. Simply put, forget what Rita Mae Browne did to The Slumber Party Massacre; this film takes the cake for the flat-out weirdest one-liners in slasherdom. (Most memorably, a choirgirl recovering from a sexual assault on a kitchen table is consoled by her friend as follows: "Look, you were only raped. As long as you don't tell anyone about it, you'll be all right.") If you think the film can't manage to sustain such nuttiness to the end, guess again; the final shot is a ridiculously perfect summary of the film (be sure to listen to that muffled final line) and encapsulates the berserk appeal of what would surely be a major camp classic if more people had actually seen it. Oh, yes, and there's even an ear-shredding closing theme song.
Though many of Salvation's past releases have been a bit light on the supplements, they've thankfully gone way beyond the call of duty trying to explain how the heck this film ever got out of the gate. The making of Killer's Moon is a truly bizarre saga, with Birkshaw and actress JoAnne Good guiding you along for a trip via audio commentary and two video interviews through the insanity of finance-famished horror filmmaking in Great Britain during its final days of exploitation glory. Birkshaw covers his odd first softcore film, Confessions of a Sex Maniac, which he reveals was originally entitled The Tit(!), and the writing process which turned Killer's Moon into the anti-classic we now have with us today. You also get to find out where the heck they found that three-legged dog (who got a bit of media publicity in the process), how the actresses felt about disrobing onscreen, and the reasons for hiring lead actor Anthony Forrest, who was supposed to become a big name after his stint on Star Wars before his entire part wound up on the cutting room floor. (In case you're wondering where he is now, click here.) They both seem to feel the film holds up well enough years later, so one can only assume that the bizarre line readings and "dream-like" plotting were intentional. In any case, Salvation has done it proud, and the anamorphic transfer is a nice step up from those murky-looking and very rare VHS copies which turned up from time to time. The original blue-heavy color timing appears to be intact, and apart from some minor print damage here and there, it all looks great. (Yes, it's still interlaced as with every other Salvation title on the market, but that's no surprise.) Along with the aforementioned extras, the disc also contains two UK theatrical trailers (one X-rated, the other clean), a stills gallery, and the usual cross-promoting trailers for other Salvation titles. Out of all of Salvation's digital output to date, this might be the title you'll find yourself going back to far more than any other.
