Death Is Attracted To Open Food Sources, And Scuttles Away If You Turn On The Light.
Dead and Breakfast is way better than killing cockroaches. I know this because I watched the film today, then killed a bunch of cockroaches. And I must say that, while Dead And Breakfast didn’t make a satisfying crunching noise when it finished, it was certainly the more pleasant experience. It’s also better than blinding yourself with burning metal, or having fly larvae hatch in your eye. Essentially, it’s a good film if you compare it to something awful, which fulfills the idiotic “well, it’s good for a horror film” argument, but that’s sort of like picking your favorite type of cancer.
It is not, however, better than other movies. If Dead And Breakfast had been made 20 years ago, it would now be hailed as a cult classic. As it stands, however, it’s just an average movie that no one will watch, by the same token that everyone I know has seen Plan 9 From Outer Space but no one has ever seen Stealth. I’m at a loss to explain why everything that sucks now is just lame, but everything that sucked twenty years ago is retro and campy. And while I did enjoyed parts of the film, I’ve already forgotten the convoluted plot, which features Buddhist mythology (again! ), zombies and plenty of horror-punk rockabilly, like someone left a Cramps record in the back of a Ford pick-up.
On the up side, it does have Jeremy Sisto getting his head cut off. For a few blessed minutes, I hoped this meant I would no longer have to watch Six Feet Under. Sadly, however, the show carried on without him, plunging deeper into the world of well-written, realistic characters exploring the varied emotional shades of being stunningly, stunningly boring. I’m midway through the second season, and I still haven’t found a character who doesn’t remind me of someone I’m trying to avoid by watching TV. I’m staying in my apartment to get away from people like this, not to have them recreated on HBO. Maybe I’ll finally have to leave my house to the cockroaches.