Herschell Gordon Lewis was a trash filmmaker. None of his films was ever an attempt at producing art, or even quality. A Chicago ad man by trade, Lewis got into filmmaking as a way to make a quick buck. His films exploited gaps in the market to bring in high returns on a small investment. When enforcement of the Hays Code began to slacken at the start of the 1960s, Lewis filmed cheap nudie-cuties that only had the barest threads of competent filmmaking. When returns on those flicks were hurt by nudity moving into mainstream films, Lewis turned to horror. Like the good marketer he was, he found an opening in horror flicks he could exploit. That opening was gore.
Blood Feast, directed by Lewis from a screenplay credited to his wife (he wrote it), is a no good, very bad, awful film. The plot is garbage, the dialogue is laughable, and there wasn’t anyone in the movie who could act worth a lick. Main characters alternately stumbled through their lines or said them like robots. At least one cast member, June 1963 Playmate of the Month Connie Mason, didn’t bother to learn her lines. Not that it really mattered. Continue reading “October Horrorshow: Blood Feast”