It’s hard to fault the pitch behind The Gingerdead Man. Gary Busey plays Millard Findlemeyer, a mass murderer who, after testimony from a survivor of his attack, Sarah Leigh (Robin Sydney), is executed. His mother, a witch, claims his ashes afterwards, and mixes them into some gingerbread spice, which she then delivers in secret to the bakery owned and operated by Sarah. Some blood is inadvertently added to the mix, and when a dough is made and baked into the shape of a gingerbread man, Findlemeyer’s soul comes back to life, possesses the cookie, and goes on a murderous rampage of revenge.
Yes, this is a real movie, from an idea that could have led to an outrageous black comedy. Alas, this is a 21st century release from Charles Band and Full Moon, legendary purveyors of b-cinema. Gone are the days of Castle Freak, Trancers, and Re-Animator. In are an endless string of Evil Bong movies and, yes, Gingerdead Man flicks. In this century, Band’s productions have been more like Troma’s, or the worst of Roger Corman’s, than the outrageous romps of yore.
From a story and screenplay by William Butler and Domonic Muir, respectively, The Gingerdead Man was directed by Band, and released direct to video in 2005. The film takes place in small town Texas, but just about the only thing Texas-related are the accents put on by the cast. The majority of the movie takes place in the bakery’s 
kitchen, the front of house, and the parking lot. The set is also very sparse. There is legitimate kitchen equipment hanging about, but it’s very clearly a low rent dressing.
According to the internet, so it must be true, Busey was offered $25k to appear in the movie, and it was a longshot whether or not he’d accept. He was on set to shoot the introductory massacre scene, where he frightened the bejesus out of Sydney, and spent the remainder of the film in voiceover for the gingerbread creature.
The creature is a stupid-looking thing, as it should be. After all, a killer cookie is an even more insane idea than Chucky from the Child’s Play movies. It had to straddle a fine line between serious and campy, without crossing over too far one way or the other.
Because the idea is stronger than the execution, viewers will probably want to get over the experience of watching this flick as quickly as possible. Band understood this. The movie clocks in at a mere 70 minutes, and a good deal of that are the opening and closing credits. Minus the intro scene, the actual movie part of the movie isn’t much longer than a single episode of prestige television.
That short running time also means we don’t have to spend an awful lot of time with the cast. Besides Sydney, other young fodder includes Ryan Locke, Alexia Aleman, and Daniela Melgoza, with veterans Margaret Blye and Larry Cedar on hand to provide a little maturity to the cast. Other reviews have been universal in their condemnation of the cast, but I think they did just about as well as the material allowed. Having spent much time watching substandard cinema, trust me when I say it could be much, much worse.
So, we viewers have a supernatural slasher black comedy horror flick, featuring a small cast in a cheap set, with poor to middling execution from Band and his crew. Is there anything worth recommending? Unfortunately, no. There isn’t even all that much gore to speak of, and no gratuitous nudity at all.
The Gingerdead Man was made to bring in a quick buck, and that’s about it. Even fans of shitty movies will want something with a little more effort put into it. This movie tumbles down the Watchability Index, landing with a thud where all the thumbnails start getting darker, displacing Boa from the #453 spot. Band is capable of better, and we deserve better.