Director: James Bickert
Cast: Madeline Brumby, Jett Bryant, Paul McComiskey, Olivia LaCroix, Nik Morgan, John Collins, Shane Morton, Rusty Stache
Studio: Big World Pictures
For the last few years the word “grindhouse” has been the “phrase that pays” in the world of indie horror and exploitation filmmaking. Every Tom, Cock and Hairy with a HD digital camera, a few buckets of blood and an iMovie film-aging plugin has tried to cash in on the hoopla. An overwhelming majority of them have failed miserably because they don’t have heart or any creativity whatsoever. A couple that have impressed the shit out of me are Jonathan Yudis’ Pervert! starring the yummy Mary Carey (before she was disgusting) and Nun of That from one of my favorite genre directors, Richard Griffin. Both of those movies have balls (and tits) and the filmmakers actually have talent.
Enter writer/director James Bickert –best known for the hilariously offensive Dumpster Baby– and his new entry into the neo-grindhouse cannon, Dear God No!
A small Outlaw biker gang called The Impalers from Georgia get into a shootout in a titty bar after killing their boss. They are chased from the premises by topless strippers wearing presidential masks and wielding automatic machine guns. The crew hightail it deep into the woods where they find a house owned by a mad scientist and his teenage daughter who are being visited by a man and a woman. Being the badasses they are, the gang terrorizes and rapes their captives until one of them mistakenly releases something sexy and murderous from the basement. Once that happens, all Hell breaks loose and there is an orgy of violence capped off by a visit from a Sasquatch-type mutation that has been living in the forest for years. But whose side will it be on?
Dear God No! is tons of offensive, over-the-top fun just like our romanticized favorite shitty movies that actually played in grindhouses. James Bickert made a movie that pulls no punches and delivers the goods; violence, tits and a nun getting kicked in the cunt. The ridiculous overacting made the characters likable but there could have been less scientific mumbo-jumbo dialogue from “Dr. Marco” played up by Paul McComiskey. My favorite though was the lead biker “Jett” played by real-life lead singer of the stoner rock band Bigfoot (coincidence?) Jett Bryant. Jett has that Southern-boy, white-trash swagger that made a cool fucking believable character. The original music by Atlanta band The Forty-Fives was perfect and could easily be in a Tarantino flick. Dear God No! is part biker flick, part monster movie and all fucking badass.
If this movie comes to a theater in your town, go. When it gets picked up for home video distribution, pick it up. Support indie badassery!