Because I Hate Myself - Crackcoon

Yes, the drug-fueled animal subgenre has well and truly “jumped the shark”. And yes, I should have known that after the abomination that was Cocaine Shark and DEFINITELY after MethGator…but oh no, I just had to go and watch Crackcoon…didn’t I?

In fact, I did. And it’s been a non-stop assault on both my liver and brain cells ever since. Sadly, I don’t think there’s enough alcohol on the planet to wipe away the memory of this cinematic trauma. Let’s just get this over with.

Synopsis…and I’m gonna stray from my usual ‘trying to sound serious to entice you into watching the movie’ style because…no. Just…no. Please, turn back now. Sigh, you’re still reading aren’t you. Fiiiiiine. A new brand of hyper-crack hits the streets of what must be the white-trashiest location ever [So this narrows it down to Indiana, Ohio or West Virginia. – Ed.], with a nasty little side-effect of causing homicidal rage in its users. After a series of contrived circumstances, of course said crack ends up in the grimy little paws of a racoon, who then proceeds to kill drug dealers, college kids in a cabin, campers, police…you know, the usual. Low budget gore ensues.

Look, I don’t want to be mean here, but ho boy, this is like…Nude Nuns with Big Guns bad. Even worse? For similar reasons. Let’s start with the star of the picture, the Crackcoon itself. Now, I get it, we’re in Z-grade territory here, I’m not bashing the film for that…or at least, I’m going to try not to. But I will say this, if you know you’re likely going to fail at everything, you don’t mitigate that through overall badness. You grab on to one thing and make it shine. In this instance, that one thing should’ve been practical Crackcoon. However, upon your first glimpse of the creature, I was forced to ask myself “Have the effects guys NEVER seen a racoon before???” What we’re treated to here is a seemingly formless fuzzball with a snout and fangs…oh, and eyes. You know what’s missing though? Everything that makes a racoon a friggin’ racoon! Little bandit-style mask? Nope. Or if it is there…I dunno man, some stills on the internet show that it is there but while watching the movie itself, it just doesn’t stand out the way it should. The cute little hand-like paws. I mean…they’re sorta there…but there’s no articulation, they’re molded in place. On the one hand [Ha, ha. – Ed.], I get it, the kind of puppetry to achieve that might have been out of their price range. On the other…that’s the whole point of low-budget filmmaking, to find creative solutions around expensive obstacles. The star racoon was the place for this very kind of Corman-esque ingenuity…and it’s just not happening. Perhaps the cruelest thing I can say? The CG model used for when the ‘coon is walking or seen from a distance? THIS is better than the practical puppet. And, at least to my eyes, that really should be the cue to anyone working on the film that you done fucked up. Bad.

Also, it’s not fair for me to take jabs at the “acting” or the “actors”. None of us here are expecting Masterpiece Theatre. Besides, there are actually a few characters I did end up liking. Hunter Redfern’s Aiden, while being kind of a dick…is SUPPOSED TO BE kind of a dick. So, mission accomplished there. Also, I’m never gonna knock an actor that has the bravery to wear their own very holey socks to set and have them end up on film. If I could give you a Bud Light – Real Men of Genius segment, Mr. Holey-Socks-Wearing-Actor Guy…well, here’s to you, you stalwart of the split stocking! [Insert excessively passionate singing guy here. – Ed.] Chris O’Brocki’s gay drug dealer Denny was also ridiculously phenomenal (even fabulous!). I know as per horror movie rules that the person that starts the whole mess has to die…and he IS the guy with the bag of hyper-crack…but I hated to see him go. However, given his partner, Frankie (portrayed by Justin P. Martin)…maybe it’s for the best. I mean, Frankie wasn’t too bad either…but the quality of his performance wavered, whereas O’Brocki was solid and believable (yes, I know, I’m using the term loosely here). Maybe the fact that Denny exits the film before his schtick gets old is his saving grace. Who knows? Lastly, there’s an early appearance by John A. Russo. Now, for those of you that don’t know (and seriously, shame upon you and your descendants if this is the case) he’s not only the co-writer of the classic Night of the Living Dead (with horror-god George A. Romero), but also the progenitor of the similarly classic (but a step or two down in my opinion) Return of the Living Dead franchise. This leaves me asking…dude, are you really that hard up for cash in your golden years? I mean…ouch. I mean, this isn’t of the caliber of Orson Welles’ final appearance being Unicron in Transformers: The Movie (1986) or Raul Julia’s curtain call as M. Bison in Street Fighter (1994)…it’s…well…worse. Sigh…look, John, buddy, if you’re reading this [I doubt it, but just in case. – Ed.], if you need money this badly look us up. We’ll do what we can to help but please…keep your dignity!

I wanted to lump this next bit in with the acting, but ever since the aforementioned Nude Nuns with Big Guns, I feel like it needs to be its own thing. If you’re thinking the fact that a number of the actresses in the film opt to show a fair amount of skin is going to save this thing…just stop. Stop right there. You’re going to hate me for putting you through this mental exercise…but ultimately, I think you’ll thank me for it. Think of the worst strip club you’ve ever been to…okay, are you there? Right. I’m sorry about this next part, but you’re going to have to think of worse now. Think of that strip club and make it rural…you know, the kind where the owner is just happy to get anyone that’s willing to take their clothes of, standards be damned? [If you wanna insert some faces of meth here, be my guest. – Ed.] Yup…that’s where you need to be, the kind of joint that makes you question whether or not you ever want to see anyone naked ever again. [Holy shit…I’m looking up the girls that stripped down for this film on both Google and IMDB and sure enough, two are from Ohio and one’s from Indiana. Called it. And yet…I was REALLY hoping to be wrong! – Ed.] Now, it might sound like I’m criticizing the look of these ladies, and I’ll admit, I am…a bit. Here’s the thing though, I’ve seen enough skin (in movies) to know that a talented director can get a performance that can make even the most unattractive actress downright wankable. [You know this paragraph alone is going to get us SOOOOOO cancelled, right? – Ed.] Instead, we’re treated to the fact that director Brad Twigg has graciously opted to remove himself not only from a career in horror, but of porn as well. This is why, during that mental exercise, I took you to a RURAL strip club: because the looks and direction here echo those of such joints…they REALLY don’t want to be there any more than you do and, just like their exposed bosoms, they’re not shy about that being visible either. But honestly, the worst offender here is a dude, Tim Hale’s Carlos. Tim…if you’re gonna commit to a sex scene, then you friggin’ commit. None of this half-assed “I’m gonna wear my boxer briefs throughout the scene” nonsense. Look, I get it, it takes some stones to put your wang on screen…and no, I don’t wanna see it either, but buddy, you signed up for this. On top of that [You’re gonna kill me with these puns…literally. – Ed.] let’s face it, while yes, the girls who stripped down are flawed, goddamnit, they stripped ALL THE WAY down…so man up and put that twig and berries out in the breeze you schmuck. Oh…and the little tug at the elastic to simulate putting it back in your drawers? Not fooling anyone pal. Maybe I’m being too hard on them here, because every interview I’ve seen where an actor or actress discusses a nude scene or a love scene all say the same thing: They’re uncomfortable, awkward and making them is the unsexiest thing ever. And all of those things are definitely on display here.

For some of you, this movie is going to fall into the “so-bad-it’s-good” category and if that’s the case, great! I’m thrilled you got something out of it. Me? I fell into the “so-bad-it’s-dear-God-I-need-to-drink-myself-blind-so-I-see-nothing-this-horrible-ever-again” camp. Sure, it has the 3-Bs (Blood, Breasts and Beasts), but between mediocre gore, breasts that you don’t want to see and aren’t made even remotely enticing and a beast that’s more a ball of unkempt fuzz than any real attempt at a creature…it’s just…no. There’s no way I can recommend this with a clear conscience. In fact, this might be the first time I’ve taken a movie directly from my blu-ray player and put it in the “sell back” pile immediately. For this crime against cinema…and quite possibly crime against the Drive-In, Crackcoon earns the rarely doled out Dead Cat rating.

P.S...or perhaps fair warning might be better...a sequel is already in the works: Crackodile.

Someone...please stop them.