Arts & Entertainment
West Horror Baptist Revenge
By Charles Alexander
Originally printed 2/7/2013 (Issue 2106 - Between The Lines News)
I'm not a fan of zombie or vampire movies, but I had occasion - I think it was Halloween, or, Feast of the Circumcision - one of the two of those ghoulish dates - to sneak preview a soon-to-be-released flick, "The West Horror Baptist Walking Dead."
What's interesting about this low-budget, PG-13 picture is that it's 3-D, has sing-along subtitles, poppet crucifixes for viewing audience protection, red, white, and blue blessed wafers provided for throwing at the screen. You're right: "Rocky Horror Show Revisited"!
The sneak preview I attended was an hour before Saturday midnight, timed so that the actual on-screen horror spilled - if that's a salivating choice of descriptive word - over into Sunday, Bloody, Sunday.
Just in case you're a concerned PG reader with lingering Southern Baptist sensitivities, good as it always does, triumphs over evil. (There were, some religious zealots carrying signs picketing the movie. "God Hates PG 13!" "Are You Washed in the 3D Blood of the Lamb?")
The theater was packed at the sneak preview. (Word quickly got around by way of Grindr and Tumblr that "West Horror" was highlighted with a few body building zombies and one or two athletic, if anemic looking, vampires - a concession to anticipated gay viewers.)
The movie plot's somewhat confusing, if not downright schizoid, about a small church - sort of a quirk in the outback hills - where born-again vampires are hellbent on converting unsaved zombies to help them seduce a colony of lipstick lesbians who camp out nearby each summer.
The head vampire, who happens also to be a 1000-year-old ex-Gay therapist, goes by the name of Count Dragula occasionally crossdresses when enticing zombies to do his bidding. He also has a penchant for getting media coverage, but only on the late, late Fox CNN news, and before dawn breaks.
The Count is surrounded by a cohort of seemingly virginal looking, former D.A.R. (Daughters of the American Revolution) types who shout out enticing biblical verses at Pride Parades when not singing deep contralto in the West Horror choir, or lurking in unlocked cemeteries at night.
If there's a fault with the movie's veracity - although seeing West Horror creepy crawlies in 3D is, well, a night owl hoot and really scary - it's the fact that there are lipstick lesbians in this horror film. I mean that's a little farfetched. But it does make for a refreshing contrast to the church's pachydermal vestal virgins.
It's never good reviewing policy to reveal a film's ending, but, I'm sure most of PG readers are a little ahead of the game on this one. But let's also say that it's LGBT great that the day is finally saved, and by that I mean the lives of the gorgeous lipstick lesbians camping nearby.
Oh, well. What the PG 13, 3-D moviegoing hell! Apparently Count Dragula in a deranged nocturnal state, by chance makes an untoward pass at a lipstick lesbian, Episcopalian couple toasting marshmallows at a camp fire. Zowie! Powie! Revenge is sweet. And swift.
"The West Horror Baptist Walking Dead" ends with a posse of Dykes on Bikes beating the tarnation out of Count Dragula, vampires, zombies, and would-be, mouthy D.A.R. crones. (Five wooden stakes out of five.)