Part of the Mondo Mondays series. Get ready for weird, wild and wonderful flicks from the mondo side of the silver screen! Every Monday at 8:00pm!
âA massively cheesy horror flick from the VHS graveyard. Zombies that crawl out of your TV set? Right on! Yes itâs terrible, but itâs also terribly entertaining.â â Oh, the Horror Reviews
âLook Whatâs Living Inside Your Television!â
We all know that watching too much TV can turn us into zombies, but in the ridiculous â80s horror flick The Video Dead, the zombies in the TV are watching us, and they do NOT like what they see! Guess itâs time to cancel that cable subscription and start reading books. Nah. In this direct-to-video schlock flick, a mysterious crate is delivered to a house in the woods. The homeowner unwisely accepts the delivery, only to discover it contains a crappy b&w TV set that when turned on, starts spewing giggling, cannibalistic zombies all over the place. Later, when a new family moves into the now-abandoned house, the son discovers the demonic idiot box in the attic, so naturally he and his sassy girlfriend plug it in (maybe in hopes of catching episodes of Small Wonder), and they soon end up fighting for their lives against the shambling, rambling, rotting undead, who first appear on the possessed TV set as the stars of a Night of the Living Dead-esque horror film called Zombie Blood Nightmare before crawling right out of the screen and running amuck. Perhaps a scathing commentary on mindless television watching, or perhaps just a shoddy excuse to find a novel way to get some low-rent zombies into a horror film, The Video Dead is nothing if not unique. Truly atrocious acting collides with a head-scratching plot (whenâs the last time you saw a movie use a poodle dropping dead from fright to signal the beginning of a zombie attack?), offbeat kills (including death by washing machine), and a gaggle of genuinely weird zombies who all giggle uncontrollably and wear neckties, to create the hot horror mess known as The Video Dead. (Dir. by Robert Scott, 1987, USA, 90 mins., Rated R) Digital