Alright, fellow tapeheads, slide that worn-out cassette into the VCR, maybe give the tracking a little nudge, and settle in. Tonight, we're digging into a glorious slice of mid-80s weirdness that perfectly captures the era's B-movie charm and its anxieties about what we consume: Larry Cohen's 1985 ooey-gooey creature feature (of sorts), The Stuff. Forget your artisanal ice creams and organic yogurts; this flick serves up a dessert craze that's literally to die for.

The premise alone feels like something dreamed up during a late-night sugar rush after watching too many commercials. A mysterious, delicious white substance bubbles up from the ground, tasting impossibly good and completely calorie-free. Marketed as "The Stuff," it sweeps the nation, becoming the ultimate addictive treat. Problem is, this tasty goo is actually a parasitic organism that hollows out its consumers from the inside, turning them into mindless "Stuffies." Remember those ads in the movie? "Enough is never enough!" Chillingly effective, wasn't it? It’s a concept so perfectly Reagan-era – a critique of rampant consumerism disguised as a monster movie – you can almost smell the hairspray and synth-pop.
Our unlikely hero battling this edible menace is David "Mo" Rutherford, played with glorious, off-kilter eccentricity by Michael Moriarty. Moriarty, who worked with Cohen before on the equally fantastic Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), brings this folksy, seemingly dim-witted industrial saboteur (yes, that's his job) to life with mumbled one-liners and a kind of detached amusement that’s utterly captivating. Hired by the struggling ice cream industry (!) to uncover the secret ingredient of The Stuff, Mo’s drawling pronouncements ("Nobody is as dumb as I appear to be") are half the fun. He’s less an action hero, more a weirdly effective pest buzzing around a corporate conspiracy.

Joining him are Andrea Marcovicci as Nicole, the sharp advertising executive who helped create The Stuff's campaign but develops a conscience, and young Jason (Scott Bloom), a kid who witnesses The Stuff moving on its own and rightly freaks out. And who could forget Garrett Morris, fresh off his Saturday Night Live run, as "Chocolate Chip Charlie" W. Hobbs? His character arc, from junk food mogul brought low by The Stuff to a key player in its downfall, is one of the film's surprising highlights. Seeing Morris, known for comedy, tackle this role adds another layer to the film's quirky charm. Keep an eye out for cameos too, including Paul Sorvino as a military fanatic ready to wage war on dessert, and even a quick appearance by Danny Aiello.
This is pure Larry Cohen, through and through. Like many of his films (It's Alive, God Told Me To), The Stuff pulses with a raw, almost chaotic energy born from Cohen’s signature low-budget, run-and-gun filmmaking style. He was notorious for maximizing limited resources, often shooting on location, sometimes bending the rules (or ignoring permits altogether) to get the shot. This approach gives The Stuff a grounded, almost documentary feel at times, which makes the fantastical elements even more jarring and effective. You can feel the gritty reality clash with the absurdity of killer yogurt. Reportedly, the film's modest budget (around $1.7 million) meant Cohen had to get creative, a constraint that often fuels his most memorable work.


Let's talk about the real star: The Stuff itself. In an age before seamless CGI could conjure any monstrosity imaginable, Cohen and his effects team relied entirely on practical effects, and the results are delightfully tangible and often genuinely unsettling. Forget smooth, weightless digital creations; this Stuff has texture. Think gallons of blended foam, modified foodstuffs (rumor has it, lots of yogurt and ice cream mock-ups), puppetry, and clever camera tricks.
Remember that scene in the motel room where The Stuff oozes across the walls and ceiling? That was apparently achieved using a rotating set, a classic practical effects technique that physically turns the room while the camera stays fixed, making the goo appear to defy gravity. It looks messy, physical, and real in a way modern effects sometimes struggle to replicate. And the attack scenes, where victims are consumed or contort unnaturally? They have a visceral, body-horror quality that sticks with you (pun intended). Sure, some of it looks a bit dated now, maybe even slightly goofy, but there’s an undeniable artistry and impact to seeing actual material behaving unpredictably on screen. Wasn't that rawness part of the thrill back then?
The Stuff wasn't exactly a box office smash upon release, but like so many unique visions from the 80s, it found its audience on home video. Renting this from the local video store, maybe drawn in by the lurid cover art promising edible horror, felt like discovering a secret. It expertly blends horror, sharp social satire, and B-movie thrills into a concoction unlike anything else. It’s funny, it’s creepy, it’s pointedly critical of mindless consumption, and it features Michael Moriarty being wonderfully weird. What’s not to love?

The rating earns its points for sheer audacity, Larry Cohen's distinctive directorial stamp, Michael Moriarty's unforgettable performance, its clever satirical core, and those wonderfully messy practical effects that defined an era. It loses a couple of points for some pacing lulls and occasionally rough edges inherent in its B-movie roots, but those almost add to the charm.
Final Thought: The Stuff is a perfect time capsule – a sticky, subversive, and surprisingly smart slice of 80s cult cinema that reminds you why practical effects could be so gloriously gross, and why sometimes, the weirdest flavors are the most memorable. Dig in... if you dare.