Coming soon!
Cast:
Nichole Hiltz as Norma
Ryan Carnes as Alex
Haley Marie Norman as Amber
Michelle Lee as Miss China
Priscilla Barnes as Jean
Lew Temple as Marv
Directed by Steven Goldmann
Review:
As civilization continues to sprawl, it’s getting harder and harder to find the great American backroads. These rural recesses and the unique characters that populate them once made up the bulk of the national landscape – not to mention the country’s first distinct brand of homegrown horror. Fortunately, while small towns increasingly give way to tract homes, drive-ins become outlet malls, and biker bars disappear into an oblivion of chain restaurants, the spirit of the roadside frontier lives on in the films of H.G. Lewis, the early work of Tobe Hooper, and movies like Trailer Park of Terror – a film that proudly wears its trashy cinematic influences like a pack of smokes tight-rolled in its sleeve. From its group of teen leads stranded in the middle of nowhere to the sloppy implications of cannibalism that bubble up later on, there’s no mistaking a Chainsaw vibe the size of Texas, eclipsed only by the Lewis-like streak of sleaze running straight through its heart.
Though it’s a few maniacs shy of two thousand, the titular park is no place for a pretty girl like Norma (played with apple-pie perfection by Nichole Hiltz). Nicknamed Truckers’ Triangle for its reputation for mysteriously absorbing the shipments of passing 18-wheelers, this dilapidated mobile home hub hosts a motley crew of degenerates who view Norma as family, whether she likes it or not. When the stooges learn that their vivacious neighbor plans to leave the park behind with the aid of her preppy boyfriend, they stage a protest that goes shockingly awry. Distraught and hopeless, Norma seeks guidance from an arcane drifter (country music star Trace Adkins, doing his best Randall Flagg) who promises the girl “salvation in violence.” After taking out the trailer trash in a rage, Norma seals her sinister fate by torching the entire place – and herself along with it.
It’s not hard to guess where this ambitious prologue (yes, prologue – few movies give you white trash trauma, a shotgun massacre, and a satanic country musician all in the first five minutes) is leading, but anyone unfamiliar with what results from bad things happening in cursed places should be pretty clued in by the subsequent series of news clippings we see next. Spanning the years after the infamous trailer park fire, each one details a missing persons case centered around the former site; there are still scavengers at Truckers’ Triangle, only now they’re taking lives.
The film’s momentum stalls a bit as we shift to present day and a van full of teenage malcontents on their way home from a mountaintop youth ministries retreat with their sexually repressed pastor. This “bunch of hellraisers” is defined by little more than a single character trait apiece (stoner, slut, goth girl, asshole) and an exchange of corrosive barbs too sharp to believe, but this is part of screenwriter Timothy Dolan’s plan – introducing the lambs in simple strokes and then shuffling them off to the slaughter as quickly as possible. When their van strikes an abandoned semi in the middle of a rainstorm, the group is forced to seek shelter at the nearby trailer ‘hood.
There they encounter an older, rougher, saucier Norma, evoking Angela from Night of the Demons, alternately maternal and whorish in her hospitality. She regales them with a bedtime story fit for the Springer show then puts them up for the night among the empty trailers, which, of course, are not empty at all. It’s clear that Norma and the real hellraisers plan to pick the kids off one-by-one; we’re just here to see how entertaining or inventive that process will be.
Luckily, Trailer Park of Terror is just spunky and sleazy enough to overcome its played-out premise, a hot cinematic plate of chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes washed down with a tall bottle of PBR. Norma’s demonic crew takes to their task with balls-out abandon, severing limbs and skinning human hides to the tunes of an undead honky tonk guitarist (somebody call Don Coscarelli and tell him we’ve found Bruce Campbell’s replacement for the Bubba Ho-Tep sequel). Dolan’s script sets an appropriately pulpy tone befitting the comic book origins of Norma and her crew, while music video vet Steven Goldman paces his horror directing debut perfectly, never giving us much time to ponder the inanity of what we’re watching.
By the end of the film, Goldman’s balance of slapstick horror and grim humor does start to shake. We’re not quite sure how to feel when we see a young man skinned alive at length, our chuckles fading out before the scene does, but this could be more a credit to his approach than a detriment to his skills as a director. He’s backed by surprisingly strong production values and a handful of sound performances (I got big smiles from Ed Corbin as the well-spoken sweathog Stank, and found Priscilla Barnes impressive in what’s essentially a cameo as – what else? – Norma’s prostitute mother). If only the so-so makeup effects held up their end a little more. The monster designs and frayed hunks of flesh look great, but character close-ups reveal weaknesses buried in latex.
There’s little doubt who’ll be living when the sun comes up at Truckers’ Triangle, and as it dawns so does the predictable prospect of a Trailer Park sequel. I’m not sure Norma has the endurance for a franchise, or even repeat viewings, but it’s nice to know there’s still some life out on the backroads. Even if it is undead.
