TALES FROM THE QUADEAD ZONE (1987) - A FILM GUTTER REVIEW

Dir. Chester Novell Turner, USA, 62 mins
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TALES FROM THE QUADEAD ZONE (1987) 

When it comes to reviewing, there are two categories that things fall into – those movies that you simply can't wait to watch, and then those films that you simply feel it is your duty to review. And today I shall be throwing myself onto the sword of reviewing once again, as it's a return to the world of Chester Novell Turner, director of the staggeringly atrocious Black Devil Doll From Hell. The only slight note of relief here is that Tales From The Quadead Zone is the only other feature from this director, although there have been numerous rumours of sequels to both of these offerings given the cult following they seem to have developed.
 
Oh, before I move on, if you happen to have this on VHS, it's probably worth over £1000. I couldn't think of a worse way to spend that kind of money if I put my mind to it...

Anyway, Tales From The Quadead Zone is effectively a Twilight Zone knock-off, starring Shirley L Jones of BDDFH as a mother reading stories from the eponymous book to the ghost of her dead child, Bobby. Now, Quadead might imply that there would be four stories here, but there are three – which might be a blessing in disguise. Apparently Black Devil Doll From Hell was meant to be the fourth installment of this, but that grew into a cinematic bomb of its very own.

Our first tale, 'Food For ?', seems to run for little more than five minutes and is a truly bizarre tale of a family that don't have enough food to go around. This leads to one of the family shooting numerous of the others to ensure there is sufficient grub for everyone, followed by a rushed (why the hurry? It's not exactly overlong) conclusion with a host of text on screen concluding the piece. This one is horribly quick and badly acted, and really misses its mark.

This is followed by 'The Brothers', which conversely feels about twice as long as it needs to be. The story of Ted and his deceased brother Fred sees Ted laughing an awful lot about the death before dressing the corpse up in a clown outfit (no, I don't really get it either) and proceeding to dig his brother a grave down in the crawlspace. But it's not long before Fred is back to life and turning the tables. This one is horribly slow and badly acted, and really misses its mark.

The third installment is effectively a tie to the framing device, with Bobby's mother being confronted by her abusive husband (ex-husband? It's not immediately apparent) whom she kills in an extended struggle. It's not long before the police come by – in fact that seems to have weirdly rapidly – and rather than facing leaving her son alone, she decides to cut her throat and join him in the afterlife in a distinctly yellow conclusion. You'll know what I mean when you see it.

In all honesty, I can't look you in the eye and say this is any improvement on Black Devil Doll From Hell. In fact it might be even worse, because this one contains very little of the inadvertent humour that permeates its predecessor. Anyone connected with any iteration of The Twilight Zone would be ashamed to see this one and think they had some hand in inspiring it. The dreadful Casio keyboard music is present again – all too often drowning out the dialogue – and it's layered over some terrible acting and laughably thin 'stories'. For me, the only reason to watch this would be if – like me – you feel you owe it to your audience. I suppose you might also consider it as some sort of slice of horror history as well, and if you're an absolute completist you might seek it out to satisfy your strange curiosity. Then again, if you happen to see it on video for a couple of quid on your travels, I'd very much suggest picking it up...

RATING: 0/10. I can't say I take much relish in dishing out zeroes for films, but then again based on past experience with this director I wasn't really expecting anything that was going to be hitting the heights. I suppose much of what constitutes to Chester Novell Turner style – or lack thereof – is present here as it was in Black Devil Doll From Hell, including a soundtrack that has to be heard to be believed, amateur acting – literally and figuratively – and threadbare 'plots' that barely hang together and don't really work as individual pieces or a complete whole. Nothing to like for me, so I'm afraid this one earns itself nada out of ten.