Starring Lindsey Anderson, General Bastard, Natasha Cordova, Ryan Francis, Chuck Lamb, Lance Predmore, Aaron Ringhiser-Carlson
Directed By Jordan Downey
WOO HOO!! LOOK AT ME, I’M A KILLER TURKEY WITH A ‘TUDE!!!!! AW FUCK BITCH!! NICE TITS BITCH!! YOU JUST GOT STUFFED BITCH!!! GOBBLE GOBBLE MOTHERFUCKER!!!
Watching a film like Thankskilling is about as subtle as being mercilessly kicked in the balls by a screaming dwarf amped up on amphetamines with laserbeam eyes and rusty carpenter nails for teeth. We get it, we get it!! It’s a fucking killer turkey… and he curses!! I’m no dunce, and I know what this film is trying to be, but it fails… over and over and over again. This is the cinematic equivalent to watching a screaming lobster boiled alive, what should be a quick and painless process seems to drag on for an eternity until the sheer agony of it all becomes unbearable.
After opening on an almost Troma-worthy high note, this movie goes to pieces faster than a thanksgiving turkey stuffed with napalm. When you hear the same joke uttered three times within 30 minutes you can’t help but feel like these guys are just desperately grabbing for straws here. It’s embarrassing. From top to bottom this unfunny pile of shit literally had me cringing at moments. You can’t help but feel physical discomfort at the sheer awkwardness of it all. At one point a college student is fooled by the killer turkey wearing her dad’s skin as a mask, ala Leatherface. Not only is it stupid but the scene drags on about three minutes longer than is necessary. That awkward and uncouth spirit runs itself through the course of the entire film. What you essentially have is a silly joke run into the ground until it’s almost begging you to put it out of its misery. It’s almost as if the “Jeez you got a big pussy, Jeez you got a big pussy” guy from Predator made his own feature-length film.
Anybody can come up with an amusing concept, but not just anybody should take said concept and turn it into a 70 minute long motion picture. I can say that a kung fu priest would be funny (and it is, in the right hands), but that doesn’t mean that I’m gonna go out and make a feature-length film about it. Save that shtick for those who are capable, the Lloyd Kaufmans or Peter Jacksons of the world.
Maybe this shit would be funny if I was sparking a massive doobie or suffering from catatonic schizophrenia or something. I just don’t know. Whatever you do this Thanksgiving, enjoy yourself and be thankful that you didn’t have the heinous task of sitting through Thankskilling for review.