Palatable: Mad Ron’s Prevues From Hell

Mad Ron’s Prevues From Hell (1987)
Directed by Jim Monaco
Written by James F. Murray, Ron Roccia, Jim Monaco, Nick Pawlow
Produced by James F. Murray, Ron Roccia, Joe Amodei, Joe Amodei Jr., Michael C. Meister
Starring Nick Pawlow, Ron Roccia
Anteceding the widespread convenience of circulated digital video by over a decade, this sub-budgeted anthology of horror theatrical trailers and TV spots for fare screened in drive-ins and grindhouses was surely a bonanza to the genre’s faithful in spite of its nonexistent production values. In a slight frame story, Satan summons a horde of shambling zombies to trespass upon and patronize Philadelphia’s Lansdowne Theater as its loony projectionist (Roccia) screens for them a succession of nightmarish promos punctuated by the lowbrow comedy of a ventriloquist and his raunchy, zombified puppet. For whomever the latter doesn’t appeal, this shiteo’s 47 advertisements must evoke some interest.

Launching this series, this glimpse of double feature I Drink Your Blood/I Eat Your Skin tantalizes bloodily, though the latter pic isn’t depicted.
Bryanston’s spoiler-laden trailer for The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is probably the most popular of this selection.
Fellows don’t court ladies well when Deranged.
For its relative paucity of bloodshed, Three on a Meathook‘s aureate narration compensates.
One could argue that The Corpse Grinders was publicized with a preview cut more ineptly than any other.
For the benefit of those most timid or impressible in his prospective audiences, the purported producer of The Undertaker and his Pals voices a wholly concientious disclaimer to deter their attendance.
Shamelessly, Love Me Deadly‘s promo professes a thematic continuity from The Exorcist.
Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things that they’ve disinterred, or produce movies this atrocious if they haven’t matured upon alleged adulthood.
According to this, The Maniacs are Loose in both this picture and its audience, which must be terribly distracting.
One can’t imagine a more descriptive title than that of Cannibal Girls, a clamorously anthropophagous slasher helmed by Ivan Reitman before he knew how to direct.
All of the multitudinous clips advertising Torso are goofily narrated by someone’s dad.
Never mind exposition — this faux news telecast portrays the derangement inflicted by a double bill of The Blood Spattered Bride and I Dismember Mama.
The Ghastly Ones seem to be the worst imaginable hosts, but theirs is a fab drum solo.
I’ve often wondered if Herschel Gordon Lewis shot dreck like The Wizard of Gore to gauge the idiocy of his voluntary audiences; this surmisal’s supported by promotional exhibition of his craftsmanship.
Of all the horrors that rode The Exorcist’s coattails, in none was the source of Williams Blatty and Friedkin so palpably, peculiarly or punctually poached as in Beyond the Door.
Argento’s classic Deep Red is one of a few good films here promoted with ample spoilers.
You can’t expect Sisters to be sane or sober when portrayed by Margot Kidder.
Substituting shocking spectacle for coherence, this teaser for Devil’s Nightmare likely coaxed a few bored teenagers to their local theaters.
Under a pseudonym, Alfredo Leone attempted to salvage Mario Bava’s flop Lisa and The Devil by interjecting some priestly scenes cheaply emulative of The Exorcist to create The House of Exorcism, the most successful of that classic’s many imitators — co-starring Telly Savalas in brownface.
Joseph Cotten clearly didn’t essay to resuscitate his career by starring in Lady Frankenstein, nor did Veronica Lake when she signed up to headline Flesh Feast.
Years before it was adapted to a successful TV series, Amicus co-produced an anthological Tales from the Crypt feature starring Joan Collins, Peter Cushing, Roy Dotrice, Ian Hendry and Patrick Magee — none of whom are effectively exploited here.
If the cast isn’t aggressively middle-aged and tagline isn’t worked like a punch press as in Vault of Horror, it just isn’t an Amicus production.
Horror of the Zombies seems the most perfunctory horror movie concerning zombies.
In corporate and governmental jargon, Bloodeaters would be charactered proactive.
To promote and indemnify viewers of their Orgy of the Living Dead triple feature encompassing Revenge of the Living Dead, Curse of the Living Dead and Fangs of the Living Dead, the presentation’s (typically unnamed) producers assure theatergoers that any among them who’s crazed by their flicks will be entitled to commitment at a sanitarium. How sweet! One of their victims is presented to substantiate this guarantee.
The Diabolical Dr. Z disregards his Hippocratic oath in this alliterative ad.
In peradventure the most efficacious advertisement for an exploitative documentary, the outrageous hunting, martial, colonial and tribal turpitudes shot for Africa: Blood and Guts are showcased in a grisly, expertly edited enticement for whoever dares to witness the dark continent’s degeneracy.
Apparently, the producers of Night of Bloody Horror presumed that a TV spot destitute of content would attract an audience.
Silent Night, Evil Night is Bob Clark’s unsurpassed Black Christmas, retitled and furnished with a more compelling trailer by Warner Bros. for distribution in the U.S.
This TV spot for The Mutations emphasizes its abominations to the neglect of stars Donald Pleasence and Tom Baker.
The House that Screamed is a girls’ school wherein the faculty enjoys flagitious liberty for abuse and murder, but seems more tolerable than John Irvin’s tawdry Mine Ha-Ha adaptation.
Blood and Lace doesn’t seem to contain much of either.
Two Thousand Maniacs! in hillbilly country slay northern tourists in another shoddy splatter fiasco by Herschell Gordon Lewis.
Like its reputation and precedence, this trailer accords to Night of the Living Dead unwarranted excitement.
If a TV spot hasn’t time to reference extraterrestrial abduction and wonderworking androgynes in Larry Cohen’s God Told Me To, that’s just another reason to buy a ticket.
All that Horror on Snape Island deters all save the most British holidayers from vacationing there.
Thrill to the pooly choreographed combat and softcore sex of Wildcat Women in 3-D.
Ilsa: She Wolf Of The SS needs neither introduction nor recommendation.
Ivan Rassimov’s the Man From Deep River, whose storied vacation in Thailand is the stuff of his grandchildren’s cannibalistic nightmares.
If Last House on the Left were a tenth as engaging as the trailer that popularized a memorable, iterative tagline, it still wouldn’t deserve its acclaim.
One couldn’t hope to infer from its picturesque trailer the premise of Mario Bava’s sanguinarily influential A Bay of Blood (here denominated Carnage), but as usual, Stelvio Cipriani’s musical themes are obviously worth its price of admission.
The renowned, repeated tagline of Last House on the Left may have originated in promotional materials for Color Me Blood Red, yet another crummy gorefest committed by Herschell Gordon Lewis.
Zooms oscillate, narrators gibber and cue cards are always just offscreen for the Mad Doctor of Blood Island.
Silent Night, Bloody Night, horrid vacation, good double-bill paired with Black Christmas…
Masked, muscled Mickey Hargitay entertains visitors at the Bloody Pit of Horror with themed photo shoots, excruciation and a complimentary continental breakfast.
What else can one expect when lunatic doctors compulsively perform gooey, interspecific transplants but a Night of the Bloody Apes?