RETARDS SHOULDN'T RUN WITH CHAINSAWS
Directed by Rick Fusselman
Featuring Matt Holko, Rick Mackall, Josh Hudson,
Rick Fusselman, Jim Cibella and Bernice Mullins.
2004/30 min.
DSK Productions

Just as the only people who could get away with calling a film "Fags Shouldn't Play With Sulfuric Acid" would be actual homosexuals, the mentally hadicapped are the only people who could get away with calling a film "Retards Shouldn't Run With Chainsaws". Of course, this logic only applies if you're concerned with offending people, and the individuals who made this movie most definitely are not. And despite the style of acting you'll see in the flick, or the appropriately shaky quality of production, the folks at DSK Productions are not "retards". They just think the term is funny. If you don't agree, you're shit out of luck and should probably stop reading now.
Almost as offensive as the title of the film is its three-minute opening sequence, which consists solely of hand-held, sepia-toned footage of trees, bushes, barking dogs, ants, a work shed, and the sky, all set to some emo-punk tune that plays in its entirety. I'd call it a credit sequence except for the fact that there are no credits on the screen. Strangely enough, I found this portion of the movie to be somewhat artistic, like something from a student film or a pretentious avant-garde experimental film. I really liked the shot of the hands flailing around in the dirt, causing (real) ants to fly all over the place.
Those hands belong to none other than Shit-Tooth (Matt Holko), an animal-like youngster who is constantly beaten by his redneck father (Rick Mackall) and locked in a shed in the backyard. Flash forward to a couple years later, where we meet a group of dudes driving through the neighborhood looking to check out a house for rent. When they arrive, they meet a squirrely old man with a cigarette dangling from his lip, a nearly unintelligible thick-accented voice, and a creepy story to tell the boys. The tale, of course, is about Shit-Tooth, who endured so much abuse that he has become a rabid killer. Of course they don't believe pops, but we the audience know better. Why? Because we immediately recognize the old man as ol' Shit-Tooth's redneck pappy. Horror movie rules dictate that the boys must ignore the warnings and venture into the house, they must encounter Shit-Tooth, and they must all die in horribly gory ways.
Do they? I'll let you take your best guess. "Retards" falls into the category of "microbudget" films, which constitute the absolute bottom rung of digital filmmaking. These films generally are made by teenage or 20-something males over a weekend, are filmed in their backyard, and feature as much spraying blood and fake guts as their $30 budgets allow. It's not so much about making a "good movie" as it is about having a fuck of a lot of fun doing it, and the guys at DSK seem like they had a blast. Sure the camera work is shaky (it was filmed by three different people), the audio is bad, the picture grainy and blurry, and the editing is full of jump cuts. But complaining about that stuff in a backyard horror film would be like complaining at a punk show that someone's guitar was out of tune. It's par for the course. Rick Fusselman and his crew probably didn't set out to make the next independent masterpiece, more than likely they do this just so they can sit around and watch the movies with their friends, laughing and making fun of it. I've been there myself. Hell, I am there.
Before I wrap up, however, I must give some praise to Matt Holko, who played "Shit-Tooth". He did extremely well, screeching and falling into things, running around like the madman he was supposed to be. If anything about "Retards" was convincing enough not to completely take me out of the film, it was his performance. He never let up, his energy was there the whole time and I don't think I saw him break character and start laughing (it did happen elsewhere in the film). There were some genuinely funny moments, such as a guy calling his mother, while he lays dying with his own guts in his hand, to tell her he will be home late for dinner. And as a reward for those of you brave enough to stick around for the entire film, there's a topless scene and dance sequence (???) at the very end of the movie. Now I ask you, what's more avant-garde than that?

(February 2005)