Color, 1985, 90m. / Directed by Terry Loften & Bill Leslie / Starring Ron Queen, Rocky Patterson, Michelle Meyer / Synapse (US R0 NTSC) / WS (1.78:1) (16:9)
Thanks to its impoverished budget and mushy, improv-heavy dialogue, this film is junky enough to make the original Toolbox Murders look genteel
Originally issued with a rehashed, VHS-era transfer as a limited edition DVD by co-director Terry Loften, Nail Gun Massacre gets a nice upgrade in Synapse's mass market version. The fresh anamorphic transfer looks as good as the film possibly could, given its financially challenged origins and touch-and-go lighting. Likewise, the mono audio is only as intelligible as the original sound mix, which often leaves a bit to be desired. Fortunately Loften is on hand to put the whole thing in context thanks to "Nailed," a 24-minute featurette in which he candidly discusses everything from butchery performed on the original script to the real-life romantic fallout from the film's most graphic sex scene. God only knows what his co-director's doing now, but it's great to hear real life stories like these straight from the trenches. Other extras include 8 minutes of various outtakes (with additional Loften commentary about the film's creation) and an incredibly violent promotional trailer that packs in almost every nail gun hit from the entire film.
Boldly steering the '80s slasher film back to the territory from whence it came (namely, the gore-soaked unintentional hilarity of H.G. Lewis' Blood Feast), this
vicious, nudity-packed Texas cheapie takes the "have sex and die" philosophy to ludicrous extremes. The plot (what little there is of it) concerns the aftermath of a gang rape at a construction site, with the participants hunted down and poked full of holes thanks to a helmet-wearing assailant toting a high-powered nail gun. Soon the killer decides to expand his list of victims to other townspeople as well, leading the sheriff and a local doctor to embark on an investigation into these hideous crimes.
by comparison. The mystery killer offers much of the entertainment value, from his awkward weapon get-up to his pimp-style hearse and his relentless barrage of hokey one-liners. The scare value is nil, but when you're distracted by a kitschy pop song called "Foosball" and a camera that seems to reflexively hone in on every bit of nudity in sight, who's complaining? Many of the film's comedic highlights have since become the stuff of trash fan legend, from the riotous swimming pool attack to a head-spinning grocery store yakfest that must be heard to be disbelieved.
