Sunday, April 25, 2010

Slashed Dreams-Leave Your Brain at the Door

James Polakof is the Leni Riefenstahl of hippie propaganda. His opus, Slashed Dreams (previously titled even more oddly: Sunburst. WTF!) is a chilling glimpse into an addled and twisted mind (probably damaged by years of negligent liquid acid consumption like the infamous and lovable (not really) Marlboro College Film Teacher and independent filmmaker Jay Craven).
Nothing could be more unsettling, and to top it all, an ancient and creepy Rudy Vallee, who is some kinda schitzophrenic candy fanatic is the only voice of forewarning to two guilless teens on their visionquest to the mountains.
What could be sadder, what could be worse...

...To be raped after you finally make love for the first time in your life (with your bestest friend ever, no less), to be told to just get over it by your absentminded hippie buddy(the tragically miscast Robert Englund) , who you thought was the hippest cat ever 'cause he left your lame-ass school to go live in the mountains in a wood cabin, as he offers you some fucking tea and bitches about his itchy leg(he had a run in with some poisoned oak, poor baby). Oh, fuck me gently with a chansaw! ( please do, it might relieve the boredom)
This movie is torture. It makes you want to cut yourself or step on baby bunnies just to relieve the gut wrenching sensation of your mind turning to goo.

I've had my suspicions about Garrett's sanity(suspicions, come on, who's leg am I trying to pull here), but Jordan Krall really seemed like a cool guy. When Garrett told me he wanted to see this movie next, I wondered to myself who had the biggest brain tumor of the two.
Garrett has been trying to get me to see this stupid movie ever since he gave up on making me watch The Manipulator(I'm probably gonna have to watch it now anyway, since we have this site, though, dammit!). He kept saying how cool it was that Robert Englund is this chill hippie guy who counsels this girl who gets raped. How it's so ironic and strange. He was like "It's like if I Spit on Your Grave was an after school special."

Not really sure what he meant by that, and not really caring, I refused to watch it repeatedly until Jordan Krall decided it might be neat to review this shit pile of a movie. Thanks Jordan. I owe ya one.

If you like lengthy hiking montages to ear bleeding muzak and no plot you'll love this movie. If you think Freddy Krueger is lame, you'll love this movie. If you like fake hippie dialogue, you'll love it too. If you think that fucking someone you love will inevitably lead to rape, you'll love this movie. The list of uninteresting features is long, and I could go on, but I am already bored about being bored about this movie. So I will be brief and brutally honest.

Leza's Official Summary of Slashed Dreams:

Butterface girl frolics naked in lake (don't get too excited, you can't see shit even though it's broad daylight and I'm pretty sure she actually is naked), makes flaccid love to okay-looking guy, gets briefly and halfheartedly raped and slapped around by an ornery-looking, self-obsessed chatterbox, gets some comfrey and pep talk from an absentminded hippie douche and then some amateurish ax weilding transpires.

I want my fucking 74 minutes back! I swear to God, I am not watching this freakin movie again. Even if Jordan Krall threatens me at knifepoint while shoving licorice nips down my throat!


  1. In my defense, I only suggested this film so I could get two other people to mention licorice nips on a blog.

  2. Well, you win. How does the sickly sweet taste of
    victory feel?