Alright, settle in, pop that tape in the VCR (mind the tracking!), and let’s talk about a film that practically screamed "pick me!" from the dusty shelves of the horror section back in the day. I’m talking about Charles Band's 1996 slice of Southern Gothic weirdness, Head of the Family. If you frequented video stores in the mid-90s, the Full Moon Features logo was a beacon, promising low-budget thrills, creative creatures, and often, something utterly bizarre. This one? It delivered on the bizarre in spades.
Forget haunted houses or masked slashers for a moment. The central figure here is Myron Stackpool, and folks, Myron is… well, he’s mostly just a giant head. A leering, psychic, wheelchair-bound head who rules his peculiar Southern family with an iron (or should that be cranial?) fist. Seeing that unforgettable cover art, featuring the massive, disembodied noggin, was often enough to seal the rental deal. You just had to know what that was all about, didn't you? It was the kind of high-concept hook that Charles Band, the maestro behind Full Moon (the guy who gave us the Puppet Master and Trancers series), built his direct-to-video empire on.
Southern Discomfort, Full Moon Style
The plot, penned by Benjamin Carr and Band himself, kicks off with some classic small-town sleaze. Howard (Gordon Jennison Noice) is cheating on his wealthy wife with the voluptuous Lorraina (the truly memorable Jacqueline Lovell), who happens to be the wife of brutish local thug Lance (Blake Adams). When Lance inevitably finds out, he decides the only way to get away with murdering Howard and keeping Lorraina is to pin it on the town weirdos – the Stackpool family. Big mistake, Lance. Huge.
What unfolds is a descent into the bizarre lives of the Stackpools. There's the hulking, simple-minded Otis (played with brute force by J.W. Perra), the nymphomaniacal sister Ernestina (Virginia Crampton), and theWheeler, who seems relatively normal until you realize he’s driving around a giant psychic head. And towering over them all, metaphorically and almost literally, is Myron, brought to unsettling life by the sheer presence (and impressive neck muscles, presumably) of Bob Schott beneath the makeup and prosthetics. It's pure, unadulterated exploitation fare, blending horror, dark comedy, and a hefty dose of T&A, all delivered with that signature Full Moon earnestness.
Myron: A Feat of Low-Budget Ingenuity
Let’s talk about Myron. In an era before seamless CGI could conjure anything imaginable, creating a giant, emoting head on a shoestring budget was a challenge. The Myron effect is pure practical magic – a large-scale prosthetic worn by Schott, filmed cleverly to create the illusion. Does it look entirely convincing? Maybe not by today’s standards. But back then, watching it on a fuzzy CRT, it had this tangible, unsettling reality. It was there. You could almost feel the latex. Charles Band was a master of stretching pennies, often shooting films back-to-back on limited sets – Head of the Family reportedly benefited from this frugal approach, allowing resources for its central, bizarre creation. It’s a testament to the can-do spirit of 90s B-movie making.
The film doesn't shy away from the inherent strangeness, leaning heavily into the uncomfortable power dynamics and Myron's creepy voyeurism, amplified by his psychic abilities. Jacqueline Lovell as Lorraina really commits to the role, becoming something of a Full Moon icon partly thanks to this film. She navigates the absurdity with a certain flair that elevates the material beyond simple grindhouse fodder. You believed her terror and her eventual, uh, adaptation to the Stackpool situation.
A Cult Oddity Endures
Head of the Family wasn't exactly met with critical acclaim upon its video store debut. It was pure pulp, designed for a specific audience hungry for something off-kilter and maybe a little forbidden-feeling late on a Friday night. Yet, it developed a dedicated cult following. Why? Perhaps it’s the sheer audacity of the premise, the memorable performances (especially Lovell and the visual impact of Schott as Myron), or the way it confidently blends grotesque horror with pitch-black humor. It's one of those films that, once seen, is never quite forgotten. It even spawned a sequel, Bride of the Head of the Family (1998), further cementing its strange little place in horror history.
This film is a time capsule – a reminder of when direct-to-video didn't mean cheap digital junk, but often wildly imaginative, sometimes technically challenged, but always interesting movies made by people pushing boundaries (and budgets). It’s a prime example of the weird treasures you could unearth just by browsing those glorious VHS aisles.
VHS Heaven Rating: 6/10
Justification: Head of the Family is undeniably low-budget, crude, and steeped in exploitation tropes. The acting is uneven, and the plot logic is… well, it’s about a giant psychic head. However, its sheer gonzo creativity, memorable central concept (Myron!), Jacqueline Lovell's iconic performance, and its status as a quintessential piece of mid-90s Full Moon weirdness earn it points. It achieves exactly what it sets out to do: be a bizarre, darkly funny, and unforgettable slice of B-movie madness. It's not high art, but it's high strangeness, and sometimes, that's exactly what you needed from the video store.
Final Thought: They literally don't make 'em like this anymore – a film proudly wearing its bizarre premise and practical limitations on its sleeve, a true relic of when video store shelves held genuine, head-scratching wonders.