Mutant Reviewers from Hell do
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together this man and this, uh, body in holy–well, not so holy, but’s it’s okay–wedlock. More or less."

1972 PG / Horror Comedy Directed by: Bob Clark Starring: Alan Ormsby, Valerie Mamches, Jeff Gillen

Tagline

You’re invited to Orville’s "Coming Out" Party. It’ll be a scream... YOURS!

Summary Capsule

Precocious teens have fun with dead bodies and, on a lark, invoke the powers of Satan. ‘Cause, y’know, that’s a good idea.

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Al's Rating: This entire movie makes me want to wash my hands repeatedly.
Al's Review: Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things was recommended to me by an acquaintance at a video store. He described it as a really neat horror movie of the seventies that was considered seminal at the time but has since fallen into obscurity, and as that’s practically the MRFH mission statement, I decided to take the plunge. I said, ‘Hey, the box has zombies on the cover! How bad can it be?’ But the DVD case lied to me, boys and girls. This isn’t really a zombie movie. Oh sure, there are zombies in it eventually, but they’re not really the focus of this movie and, frankly, when they finally do show up, they’re not so good. Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things is a movie all about Alan.

"Goofy facial hair? Smack! Insinuating coerced sexual favors? Smack! Ridiculous pants? Smack! Ascot? Smack! Walking stick? Smack!"

Who is Alan? Alan is a man who needs a slap. Now, I’m fairly nonviolent and usually try and cut slack to those with whom I share a first name, but this jamoke is on his own. Before he’s spoken a single word, you want nothing more than to see him sprawled on the ground, holding his jaw and seeing stars. Goofy facial hair? Smack! Insinuating coerced sexual favors? Smack! Ridiculous pants? Smack! Ascot? Smack! Walking stick? Smack! We are now approximately ten minutes into the movie. By the time Alan has decided to sleep with a corpse and whisper things in it’s ear, you’ve most likely graduated from a desire to hit something and entered the realm of blind, hysterical rage.

No, that’s not a typo. By the one hour mark, Alan has gone to bed for the night with a human corpse. So how, exactly, does a movie reach this landmark plot point? I’m still trying to figure that out, precisely, but I’ll tell you what I know.

Our good buddy Alan is the leader a dippy little theater troupe, consisting of a meathead and his girlfriend, a hippy spiritualist, a womynist-in-training, and a fun-loving fatso. As the movie opens, they’ve boated their way to a deserted, misty island that appears to consist solely of a creaky old house and a graveyard, with the intent of invoking the powers of Satan. I guess. Actually, Alan is the only one who seems to want any part of this, but he keeps everyone else under his thumb by threatening to fire them (?!).

After finding a suitable grave and digging up the body of Orville Dunworth, they hang him from a headstone in the oh-so-tasteful crucifix position (smack!) and begin reciting evil incantations (smack!). When whatever Alan was trying to do doesn’t work, he throws a melodramatic hissy-fit (smack!) and cusses out the Devil for not playing along.

Not to be deterred from, uh, being a creepy, sniveling, whiner, I guess, Alan decides the night is not yet over. Despite nearly everyone’s continued protests (mine included), he insists on hauling Orville back to the cabin, grossing out the girls like an eight-year-old, having the fun-loving fatso conduct a marriage ceremony, and then retiring to the cabin’s bridal suite–a stained, greasy mattress in the next room–for some... canoodling.

Thankfully, Alan’s trifling with dark forces is more effective then he thinks and soon the zombie hordes are swarming the island, looking for bitchy, offensive teenagers to rend limb from limb. Well, I say soon, but I’m really talking about 70 minutes into our 85 minute movie. After all, you need time for the obnoxious behavior and repellent seventies’ fashions to throw you into the aforementioned blind, hysterical rage, so you can derive some satisfaction from seeing our cast of bottom-feeders devoured like so many dollar-menu Spicy Chicken Burritos.

I suppose that’s what the director had in mind, getting these people so far under your skin that watching them die is cause for celebration, but the first part works far too well. He’s so effective at making the entire cast stupid, annoying, or just flat-out nasty, that a bunch of guys in rubber masks and some splattered red paint seems too good for them. Serious punishment needs to be doled out. Bamboo under the fingernails. Thumbscrews to the joints. Maybe Marsellus Wallace-style with a pair of pliers and a blowtorch. Now THERE’S catharsis for you!

And I used to be such a nice guy...

Can’t you just see a nice juicy red handprint on his cheek? Isn’t it an improvement? ...And she’s the one they ought to be listening to. How screwed are they? Spoooooock!

Didja Notice? [some sources: IMDb]

• That no one in this movie has apparently ever heard of Chekhov's gun? Why did they even bring all that crap with them?
• I sure wish I had known about this ‘primal juncture’ thing when I did theater...
• Under no circumstances are my friends allowed to bury me in a coffin for the sake of a practical joke. Ever. Er, again.

Is It Worth Staying Through End Credits?

We have no idea (but we'll let you know soon!)

Intermission! [some sources: IMDb]

Director Bob Clark would go on to direct Porky’s and A Christmas Story. Alan Ormsby (our ignominious star) is now a screenwriter and penned, among others, Porky’s 2: The Next Day and Karate Kid Part 3. I can’t stand any of these movies either, so I do not consider this progress.

Groovy Quotes

Alan: I was thinking. Since Terry is a new member of the company — sort of coming into her theatrical puberty, so to speak — I just might have to invoke the rule of "primal juncture."
Paul: Primal juncture?
Terry: It means he gets to make it with me first.

Jeff [repeated]: I peed my pants.

Alan: The dead are losers.

Alan: Satan! You phony! You liar! You sorry sot! I paid my money and I expect my merchandise! You cretinous clown! You don’t have any power! Petty panderer! Cheap chiseling con artist! Two-bit pedantic potion peddler!

Jeff: Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together this man and this, uh, body in holy–well, not so holy, but’s it’s okay–wedlock. More or less.

DVD Review

Not much. Just a trailer, a photo gallery, and bios for the Bob Clark and Alan Ormsby.

If you liked this movie, try these:

• Night of the Living Dead
• Sometimes They Come Back
• Evil Dead