Alright, grab your Ecto Cooler, pop some Jiffy Pop, and settle in. Tonight on VHS Heaven, we're diving headfirst into a film that practically defines late-80s video store weirdness, a sequel that somehow manages to be even more bizarrely charming than its already notorious predecessor. I’m talking about the self-aware, fourth-wall-shattering, low-budget marvel that is Return of the Killer Tomatoes! (1988).

Forget slick production values; this movie wears its B-movie heart proudly on its sleeve, practically from the opening frames where it cheerfully acknowledges its own limited funds. Remember finding this gem tucked away in the comedy or horror section, maybe next to Critters or Ghoulies? It had that cover art promising pure, unadulterated silliness, and boy, did it deliver. This wasn't just a movie; it felt like an invitation to be in on a joke, one lovingly crafted by returning director John De Bello, who clearly understood the cult appeal of his original Attack of the Killer Tomatoes! (1978).
The premise? Utterly bonkers, naturally. Ten years after the "Great Tomato War," tomatoes are outlawed. Our hero, pizza delivery boy Chad Finletter (Anthony Starke, bringing the perfect level of earnest goofiness), falls for Tara Boumdeay (Karen Mistal), who happens to be the assistant-slash-secret-creation of the villainous Professor Mortimer Gangreen (John Astin, chewing scenery with glorious abandon, returning from the original). Gangreen, wouldn't you know it, is turning tomatoes into perfect human replicas, aiming for world domination. It's exactly as ridiculous as it sounds, and the film knows it.

But what elevates Return beyond simple Z-grade schlock is its relentless meta-commentary. The film famously ran out of money during production – a fact it doesn't hide but incorporates directly into the plot. Characters literally pause the action to discuss the budget shortfall and brainstorm ways to finish the movie, leading to one of the most blatant (and hilarious) examples of product placement integration you'll ever see. Need funding? Let's have the actors conspicuously consume and praise this brand-name beer! It’s a level of self-deprecation that feels incredibly refreshing, even now.
Of course, you can't talk about Return of the Killer Tomatoes! without mentioning its most famous cast member: a young, impossibly charismatic George Clooney as Chad’s smooth-talking best friend, Matt Stevens. Yes, that George Clooney, years before ER or Hollywood superstardom. He’s effortlessly charming here, delivering lines about tomato-based threats with a completely straight face. It’s a fascinating glimpse of his early career, and legend has it Clooney isn't exactly rushing to put this one on his highlight reel, but his presence adds an undeniable layer of "hey, remember when?" fun for retro fans. Seeing him navigate this absurdity is, frankly, worth the rental fee alone back in the day.


Let's talk effects. Forget photorealistic CGI monsters. This is the glorious era of practical jokes… I mean, practical effects. The "killer tomatoes" are often just regular tomatoes, sometimes puppets, and the transformation scenes? Pure, unadulterated rubber-suit silliness. There’s a handmade, almost garage-level creativity to it all. When a character starts turning into a tomato, it’s not seamless or terrifying; it’s endearingly clunky, relying on makeup, prosthetics, and the actor’s commitment to the bit. That tactile, slightly goofy quality is something often lost today. Remember how genuinely weird and funny those transformation attempts looked on a fuzzy CRT screen? It wasn't realistic, but it was tangible in a way that slick digital morphing sometimes isn't. It felt like someone actually built that ridiculous tomato-person suit.
The action, such as it is, matches this vibe – think less Michael Bay, more Three Stooges meet Roger Corman. Fights are clumsy, chases involve sputtering vehicles, and the threat level feels perpetually dialed down in favour of the next gag. John De Bello, who also co-wrote, isn't aiming for suspense; he's aiming for laughs derived from the inherent limitations and absurdity of the concept. The catchy theme song doesn't hurt either, drilling its way into your brain with relentless, cheerful inanity.
Upon release, Return didn't exactly set the box office on fire, mostly finding its audience (like ours!) on home video. Critics were likely baffled, but viewers who appreciated the knowing wink and the sheer nerve of its meta-humor turned it into a cult favourite. It understood its audience – people looking for something different, something funny, something that didn't take itself seriously for a single second. It wasn’t trying to be Star Wars; it was content being the weird, self-referential cousin hanging out in the back of the video store.

This score isn't for groundbreaking cinema, but for sheer, unadulterated fun and audacious self-awareness. The jokes land more often than not (especially the meta ones), Clooney is a revelation in hindsight, and the whole thing exudes a charming, low-budget energy that’s impossible to replicate. It fully commits to its ridiculous premise and invites you along for the ride.
Final Thought: Return of the Killer Tomatoes! is a perfect slice of late-80s absurdity, a reminder that sometimes the most memorable VHS finds were the ones that knew exactly how silly they were and just rolled with it. Rewatchable? Absolutely, especially if you appreciate movies that laugh with you at their own existence.