Alright, fellow tapeheads, gather 'round. Dim the lights, maybe crack open a questionable beverage you bought on impulse, and let's talk about a film that feels like it was beamed directly from the grimiest corner of a fever dream onto a well-worn TDK E-HG cassette. I'm talking about Jackie Kong's 1987 splatter-comedy opus, Blood Diner. If you stumbled across this box in the horror aisle back in the day, nestled between the slashers and the creature features, you knew you were in for something… different. And boy, did it deliver.
This isn't your polite, jump-scare horror. Oh no. Blood Diner is a full-throated, gore-drenched, absolutely bonkers assault on good taste, channeling the spirit of Herschell Gordon Lewis – in fact, it often feels like an unhinged spiritual successor to his 1963 splatter cornerstone, Blood Feast. The premise alone is enough to raise eyebrows: two brothers, Michael and George Tutman (Rick Burks and Carl Crew), are tasked by their resurrected, brain-in-a-jar uncle Anwar (Roger Dauer) to collect body parts from "immoral" women to stitch together a host body for the ancient Lumerian goddess Sheetar. Oh, and they run a popular health food diner as their front. Naturally.
Meet the Tutmans (and Uncle Anwar)
What makes Blood Diner transcend mere schlock is the sheer, unblinking commitment of its leads amidst the escalating insanity. Rick Burks and Carl Crew play the Tutman brothers with a bizarrely charming, almost deadpan sincerity. They treat dismemberment and cannibalistic catering like just another Tuesday. Their dynamic – Michael the slightly more dominant leader, George the endearingly dim sidekick – is weirdly compelling. You almost root for these lunatics. Adding to the madness is Uncle Anwar, a pickled brain in a jar barking orders and lusting after Sheetar. It's pure B-movie gold, delivered with the kind of straight face that makes the absurdity even funnier. Tragically, Rick Burks died in a car accident not long after the film's release, adding a layer of melancholy to his memorable performance.
More Gore Than You Can Shake a Meat Cleaver At
Let's not mince words: this movie is soaked in gore. But it's not today's slick, digital viscera. This is gloriously practical, rubbery, chunky, bright-red 80s carnage. We're talking deep-fried heads, limbs hacked off with gleeful abandon, and a climactic "blood buffet" for Sheetar's resurrection that has to be seen to be disbelieved. Remember how tangible those effects felt back then, even when they were clearly fake? Blood Diner revels in it. Director Jackie Kong, one of the few women helming such outrageous genre fare in the 80s (she also gave us the enjoyably weird monster movie The Being in 1983), directs with a chaotic energy that matches the subject matter. There's a sense that anything could happen, and it usually does, often involving geysers of fake blood. The sheer audacity of the effects, likely achieved on a shoestring budget (estimates hover around the $300k-$500k mark – pennies even then!), is part of the charm. They weren't aiming for realism; they were aiming for impact, and a knowing, almost comedic excess.
Nervous Nellies Need Not Apply
The script, penned by Michael Sonye (under the fabulous pseudonym Dukey Flyswatter, also known as the frontman for horror-punk band Haunted Garage), throws everything at the wall. Cannibalism, wrestling, Egyptian goddesses, nudity, gore, bizarre rituals, musical numbers (yes, really!), rival restauranteurs, and even a talking brain ventriloquist dummy – it's a glorious mess. There’s a certain punk rock, anything-goes sensibility underpinning the proceedings, likely fuelled by Sonye's background. It simultaneously parodies and celebrates the exploitation films that came before it. Critics at the time? Mostly horrified or dismissive, as you might expect. But on VHS? Blood Diner found its tribe, becoming a quintessential cult classic passed around among fans who appreciated its unique brand of madness. Finding this tape felt like uncovering a secret handshake into a weirder world of cinema.
The Taste Test
Is Blood Diner technically "good" cinema? By conventional standards, probably not. The acting outside the leads is variable, the plot is nonsensical, and the tone lurches wildly. But conventional standards don't apply here. This is outsider art painted in broad strokes of crimson Karo syrup. It's energetic, unforgettable, and possesses a bizarre internal logic all its own. It captures that specific late-night, slightly illicit thrill of watching something truly transgressive on a fuzzy CRT screen.
Rating: 7/10
Why the 7? While undeniably rough around the edges and certainly not for everyone, Blood Diner earns its points for sheer audacity, memorable practical gore, the surprisingly engaging performances of the Tutman brothers, and its status as a fearless, standout piece of 80s cult horror-comedy. It fully commits to its ludicrous premise with infectious, grimy energy. It loses points for undeniable technical limitations and a script that sometimes feels more like a collection of shocking scenes than a cohesive narrative, but its cult legacy is undeniable.
Final Thought: Blood Diner is the cinematic equivalent of finding something questionable but fascinating stuck to the bottom of your shoe after a wild night – you might not want to explain it to your parents, but you'll definitely remember it. A must-see for connoisseurs of 80s splatter and high weirdness. Just maybe don't eat beforehand.