Greetings, Brothers and Sisters of the Psychotronic Video World! I hope you’ve put on your big-girl panties this morning, because the film in question today is not for the weak of heart or hairless of crotch. This is a film that’s been getting some dirty, nasty love on the convention circuit and right here at The Bloodsprayer as well. Wes, Zach and Matt caught a screening at Cinema Wasteland, and I watched a screener copy at home as part of my research into Sasquatchploitation. That’s right Brothers and Sisters, I’ve come before you to sing the motherfucking praises of James Bickert’s DEAR GOD NO!
Now sit down and shut up, because here comes the good shit.
First up, the film follows the violent, savage rampage of a motorcycle gang called The Impalers. These guys are a bunch of unholy fuckers of mothers, and their leader Jett (Jett Bryant) is the unholiest fucker of them all. The Impalers, the audience learns, is the most sociopathic motorcycle gang in the state — we’re introduced to them as they rape and murder nuns, I should note, and when an audience with the head of rival gang Satan’s Own turns into a bloodbath, the Inpalers ride off as a pair of topless women in Nixon masks open fire on them with submachine guns.
Why? Because fuck you, that’s why.
We’re also introduced to Dr. Marco (Paul McComiskey), an anthropologist living in relative isolation in a cabin in the woods with his young daughter Edna (Madeleine Brumby). Also living with them is…something…in a locked room in the basement.
As the Impalers rampage cross-state in search of more booze and action, they come across young couple Todd and Laura, and follow them to the cabin where they make themselves at home with Dr. Marco and Edna. As the Impalers terrorize Dr. Marco, Edna, Todd and Laura, what is that sound coming from outside…? And what is in the basement?
I stand by my previous statement describing DEAR GOD NO! as “a meth-fueled lovechild of THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT and THE LEGEND OF BOGGY CREEK,” and as I stated, this is without a doubt the finest piece of Retrosploitation I’ve seen harkening back to the Grindhouses of Yore. Fuck PLANET TERROR. Fuck BITCH SLAP. Fuck MACHETE. This is how you make a tribute to the Grindhouse!
Some high points:
- The Vertical Hatchet Wound: A mixed drink concocted to satisfy a contest to determine who the nastier motherfucker is. A Vertical Hatchet Wound consists of a used tampon dropped in a glass and topped off with vodka.
- Kooky Karl. I fucking love this guy.
- Strippers. In Nixon masks. Firing submachine guns.
- Nazis. How do Nazis fit in? Watch the fucking movie and find out for yourself.
- Bigfoot is above your petty squabbles. He’s just in it for the intestines.
In some ways it feels like James Bickert had ideas in his head for several different movies, and said, “Fuck it. I’m making one movie out of all of them.” And it WORKS, bitches. This is the same sort of glorious cinematic insanity that gave us WEREWOLVES ON WHEELS and CENTIPEDE HORROR and THE DEADLY SPAWN. DEAR GOD NO! is the collective unconscious of the entire Bloodsprayer staff filmed in glorious 16mm. I mean it, if you plugged the brains of Wes, Zach, myself, and the rest of the Bloodsprayer crew into a projector, you’d see something pretty goddamn similar to this.
And if nothing else, see it for the puppies. You see, there’s these puppies, and they miss their momma real bad, and the President asked Jett and the Impalers to rescue their momma from these rich assholes, see…?