Return Of The Living Dead Review (1985)

Tonight’s feature isn’t just a movie, oh no, tonight we’re cracking open the mausoleum doors and letting out the radioactive stink bomb from Hell itself: RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD! Buckle your seatbelts, kiddies, because this ain’t no slow shuffle of the dead. This is a full-blown PUNK ROCK HOLOCAUST on celluloid!

Picture it: a bunch of dimwitted stiffs at a medical supply warehouse crack open the U.S. government’s biggest screw-up, and BOOM! Toxic gas shoots into the sky, rain pours down on the graveyard, and suddenly every rotting meat sack six feet under is crawling out to party. And by party, I mean eat your BRAAAINS like popcorn at the drive-in!

These ghouls don’t stumble, they don’t groan, they RUN, they SCREAM, they speak… And ohhh, the cast of freaks caught in this mess! Punk rockers writhing on tombstones, leather-clad delinquents cackling into the night, and one infamous cemetery striptease that burned itself into midnight movie history like a pentagram carved in flesh.

The effects? GORE-SOAKED GLORY. Tar Man, that slick, slimy cadaver with moves smoother than a drunk uncle at a wedding, oozing across the floor, chomping skulls like popcorn shrimp. Melting bodies, twitching corpses, and Zombies that TALK BACK – “Come in dispatch, SEND MORE PARAMEDICS”! This film doesn’t just spit in the face of good taste; it slaps it across the jaw and dances on its grave!

And let’s talk about that soundtrack, it’s a flaming chainsaw shoved into your ears. Punk rock anthems blast like the soundtrack to your last night on Earth, driving this freak show into the red zone. Featuring 45 Grave’s “Party Time” and of course my personal favorite “Surfin’ Dead” by The Cramps. This isn’t background music; it’s an open casket rave. If you don’t have the soundtrack, stop right now and seek it out, the vinyl reissues are readily available.

But wait, if you really want the full necrotic scoop, crawl your maggot-covered carcass over to the documentary MORE BRAINS! It’s the behind-the-scenes tell-all that proves the making of this film was just as deranged as what ended up on screen. Fights! Egos! Meltdowns! It’s like the production itself was cursed, and we’re lucky the film didn’t just crawl out of the projector and eat the audience whole.

So, here’s the deal, you decomposing degenerates: Return of the Living Dead is not a movie. It’s a toxic waste barrel cracked wide open. It’s a love letter scrawled in blood to every Horror fan who likes their terror with a side of sleaze, slime, and a killer backbeat. This film doesn’t just rot, it RAGES.

Now dim the lights, tune into this movie, the documentary, the soundtrack and let’s do the DEAD, yeah TURN BLUE!