"Boggy Creek" (2010) d/Bryan T. Jaynes

 Some of you readers closer to my age will fondly recall the first time movie cameras visited Boggy Creek back in 1972, when the prolific Crabtree family's backwoods tranquility was violently disturbed by a belligerent bigfoot, and Fouke, Arkansas would never be the same. In 2010, filmmakers would again focus on the area's swampy hominid, but the results bear little resemblance to it's cult classic predecessor. The Crabtrees have been replaced by horny party slags in bikinis, the autobiographical folk tunes have disappeared, leaving terribly forgettable 90's-esque alternative pop numbers and simulated cowgirl-style sex in their wake. Sounds like empty-headed fun, in theory...


"My abs and I are enjoying a pensive moment."
After her father is tragically smooshed in traffic while jogging on the side of the road (or as we former drunk drivers used to call it , twenty points), Jennifer is easily convinced by pal of color, Maya, to like, make for her late father's cabin, nestled in Boggy Creek, for some therapeutic rest n' relaxation. Only Maya has taken it upon herself to invite her prankster boyfriend, Troy (Bryan Massey), along for the vacay, and her Matchbox 20-looking buddy, Dave (Damon Lipari), who's taken it upon himself to invite vapid cooze, Brooke (Stephanie Honore'), for partying purposes, and because she won't shy away from a good cocking down. If you're keeping score at home, that's zero dick-stractions for poor Jenny, who's been having flashbacks of being chased through the woods as a child by a sasquatch, but is a good sport afterall, and agrees to the swampy soiree.


"Why I no get invited to hooman parties? I party heartily enough!"
After much lifeless deliberation that wouldn't sound out of place on a scripted reality show on MTV, Mopey's luck seems to change for the better, as Dave grows weary of clingy Brooke, and tells her to hit the bricks. She does, and is dragged off for some interspecies in n' out, by everyone's favorite hairy horndog. Jen also meets the hunky Casey (Cody Callahan), a neighbor-turned-cryptozoologist who's also been cuckolded by the boss of the woods, and despite his best warnings, Troy and Dave turn up gutted like so much tilapia, and Maya also becomes a sex worker for Sasquatch. Jennifer's only hope is a mad dash towards the highway, in hopes she doesn't end up the engine in a Bukwas love train, in the process. Insert non-twist twist ending here.


"We are Farmers...bum bum bum bum bum bum bum."
Besides the gaping deficiencies in the plot, the shaky camerawork, the grating soundtrack songs and the flatlined montage sequences that stiffly accompany them, the amateur delivery of dialog by the non-actors involved (watch Jennifer 'hyperventilate' as evidence), there's also the matter of the suit, which wouldn't make it on the discount rack of a high end costume shop. There's some gore reminiscent of Night of the Demon (1980), but it quickly sinks in the sea of suck that this movie clearly is. Leave this Bigfoot undiscovered. One wop.


I had that same face on throughout this one.

"Bigfoot : The Lost Coast Tapes" (2012) d/ Corey Grant

Tonight, we return to Bigfoot country for another recent genre effort featuring everybody's favorite elusive and mysterious wood booger (more or less...). That it's also another found fooage flick a la Blair Witch Project (1999) and sixteen million consequent clones of the shoestring budget variety shouldn't sway you from checking it out, at least once, as I'm here to tell you that it was pretty entertaining despite the obviously meager foundation, and I'm confident that you might just just come away with similar feelings to mine about it, after all, even if screening it may not sway you one way or the other on such a famed and folkloric creature's existence in the end.


"This must be where your mother tried to claw her way in last night..."
We meet Sean (Drew Rausch), who besides being a sort of poor man's Tom Cruise, is an independent filmmaker looking to bounce back from a prior nervous breakdown with a reality show pitch involving an internet-famous cryptozoologist named Drybeck (Frank Ashmore) who boasts of possessing undeniable physical evidence of Bigfoot's existence: a dead body. Sean has assembled a patchwork film crew consisting of Darryl (Rich McDonald), his trusty cameraman, Robyn (Ashley Wood), his producer/spiritualist/former squeeze, and Keven (Noah Weisburg), the impromptu sound man forced into action when his first choice, Curtis turns him down,  repeatedly reminding him that black people don't camp or fare well out in the woods, especially when looking for Bigfoot. Homie don't play dat Gigantopithecus sheee-iiit.


"There's a fuckload of nitrites in this sample. I think Bigfoot has a urinary tract infection."
After collecting his seventy-five thousand dollar fee from Sean (significantly less than Hillary's 225,000 speaking fee, y'know), Drybeck blindfolds the crew, confiscates their cellies, and drives them off to a remote cabin in the middle of the woods where things quickly take a turn for the familiar: the 'Squatch hunter dramatically weaves a few campfire tales and abruptly splits on the film crew with the only ride out after something takes out the electrified fence around the perimeter, scratches up the exterior of the joint, and even pisses on it (!) that evening. Do our heroes unanimously decide to recoup their losses and hike back to their vehicle immediately? Of fucking course not. Keep those cameras rolling, no matter what. Sean goes cinematic dictator with dollar signs in his eyes, Robin burns candles in the forest and goes New Age, Keven plays the neurotic Jew card and abandons his co-workers, and Darryl keeps a-filming, as his share of the profits increases by the minute. Do you smell a twist ending in the works? Because I sure do...


Keven (Noah Weisburg) immediately regrets agreeing to an adult bris.
If you're looking for an impressive 'Squatch suit on display here, you're fucking sunk, matey. Instead, director Corey Grant gives you a much more authentic feeling cryptid experience, peppered with "blink and you'll miss it" glimpses of large hairy shadows darting across the background, camouflaged eye shine, oversized footprints in the mud, sinister growls in the dark...more substantial than anything these "professional" crypto-goobers have been able to turn up in the last forty or so years researching in the field, when you think about it. Like I said earlier, pretty entertaining for budget-restrained genre fare, enough so to merit a pair of Wops on the scale. If this all sounds like your cuppa, give it a look for yourselves.


"...all the strawberry tartlets....are...gone."

R.I.P. Julius E. "Smokey" Crabtree

                               04/22/27 - 01/16/16

"Exists" (2014) d/ Eduardo Sanchez

Found footage horror movies are nearly as lassitudinous as zombie movies at this point, more played out than neckbeards and plaid button-downs, lazier than Forrest Whitaker's left eye ptosis, by God. Found footage zombie flicks? Oh, don't even get me started on those. Luckily, tonight's review isn't one of those, it's another found footage Bigfoot movie, from the director of the found footage Blair Witch movie years ago. Normally I'd be hitting the weak points of a movie like this with the precision of the Chan man on a Wing Chun wooden dummy, but to my surprise, it's actually well-executed and effective more often than not, one of the better Bigfoot movies I've seen of late, due in part to a rather nifty bit of suitage. Probably, my main gripe with a lot of these recent Squatchploitation flicks, is I can't seem to get past a cheap, shabby-looking Bigfoot costume in this age of high tech special effects and makeup. Luckily, that's not the case here.  I've actually got to step down (briefly) from my lofty elitist soapbox to review this.


"Go ahead, light it on fire. He won't mind, so long as it doesn't catch on in the mainstream..."
Our five protagonists, Matt (Samuel Davis), Todd (Roger Edwards), Dora (Dora Madison), Brian (Chris Osborn) and Elizabeth (Denise Williamson) set out on a camping getaway to the wildnerness of Texas' Big Thicket, when their practical joke-filled night drive (they set the sleeping hipster's neckbeard on fire, nice one. Sharpie-ing your snoring buddy's grill into an unreasonable facsimile of Frank Gorshin's Bele from Star Trek is also cool.) is abruptly interrupted when they blindly swipe an unknown animal with their vehicle in the darkness. You know, I'll bet that faux pas to nature is gonna come back and bite all of you in your millenial asses. Just wait and see. The vacationing group hears the tortured wails of a wild beast in agony and after arriving at Uncle Bob's remote cabin which has fallen into a state of disrepair (and wild hog occupancy, forcing the brothers to rough it in the car that night), finds tell-tale signs of cryptid goings on in the form of blood on the fender and a tuft of unrecognizable hair in the camper's grille.


Insert obligatory "black guy, oversized weapon" joke here.
While the others enjoy lake-based horror movie horseplay, Brian unwittingly films an enormous bipedal hominid rapidly covering ground over a ridge nearby, and is met with much understandable skepticism from his friends when he tries to relate his story to them. Convinced he can further document the monster for posterity, Brian strategically sets up enough Go Pro cameras to choke Jeff Meldrum around the perimeter of the cabin, and after they're haunted by more ungodly screams that night, and Brian's cameras pick up a hulking humanoid creature headed right for the cabin.Whatever it is, it bangs on the walls and makes a roaring good cameo at one of the windows, and that's enough for the partygoers, who decide to check out the following morning. Only something has destroyed their vehicle, and it turns out that the brothers never informed Uncle Bob they'd be using his cabin, so no one knows of their plans or current location, one without the luxury of adequate cell phone reception. And here you are, arriving at Shit Creek, your complimentary canoes do not come equipped with paddles. Appropriately nutty,  moderately violent hijinks follow. See for yourselves.


"If I don't pick up the pace, Tripper's gonna make me participate in the three-legged race with Spaz..."
You'll recognize Samuel Davis from his work in Machete Kills (2013) and Sin City- A Dame to Kill For (2014), while Roger Edwards turns up in things like Circus of the Dead (2014) and 2012's Bad Kids Go to Hell. Interesting to note, Denise Williamson also appeared in 2010's Boggy Creek, which also deals with our favorite horrific hairy hominid. Cuban director Sanchez has taken the helm on the aofrementioned Blair Witch Project (1999), a segment in V/H/S/2 (2013), and several episodes of the From Dusk til Dawn tv series. I liked this effort a lot more than Blair Witch, to be honest with you. Like I said earlier, the excellent 'Squatch suit does it's part here, in elevating this one over its counterparts, with the help of a few well placed jump scares and admirable suspense sequences. You could do a lot worse, i.e. Bigfoot Wars (2014), Bigfoot The Movie (2015), Yeti (2008), Sasquatch Hunters (2005), et al. This one earns itself three solid Woppo's. Check it out, and see if you agree.


"I'm gonna count to three, and you're gonna open this door so I can show you the dynamic cleaning capabilities of this Electrolux Ergorapido 2-in-1 stick/hand vacuum cleaner!!!"

"Willow Creek" (2013) d/ Bobcat Goldthwait

Remember the first time you saw a "found footage" style horror movie? Most folks can recall their fiftieth at this point in the copycat sweepstakes we used to call a horror genre. Found footage cannibals. Found footage zombies. Found footage daikaiju. Found footage demonic possession. Found footage Leatherface. Uncle, already.  Tonight's review is a Bigfoot twist on the style, though not even the first one, as I believe 2012's Bigfoot: The Lost Coast Tapes owns that dubious distinction, if I'm not too A.M-delirious to say for sure. One thing Willow Creek can boast of, is being the only Bigfoot-based found footage film directed by Shakes the Clown. From the first time I read about this one, I was already well curious to see it, being a long time proponent of hairy hominid-based horror flicks, but the driving force behind my desire was the fact that I'd never laughed at anything I'd ever seen Bobcat Goldthwait in, as far as I can remember. The high pitched screech thing he always seemed to be doing only ever got on my nerves. So, if comedy isn't the guy's strong suit, maybe he's a natural for horror? Open-minded I try to remain at all times.


Look, it's a couple of goofy tourists documenting their dinner for posterity, my favorite...
We meet Jim (Bryce Johnson) and his girlfriend Kelly (Alexie Gilmore) as they embark on a road trip to Bluff Creek in California, the secluded location off of the Klamath River where would be adventurers Roger Patterson and Bob Gimlin bumped into and briefly filmed an adult female Sasquatch that's been dubbed "Patty" over the years, or Bob Hieronimus in a monkey suit that was intricate for it's time, depending on who you talk to. Either way, Jim is thoroughly convinced that several local disappearances can be attributed to angry wood boogers, while Kelly is merely along for the ride to provide skeptical smartassery and generally break his balls as he attempts to document the entire experience for a personal film project, a life long dream he's had. Women. If you weren't so damned adorable and delicious...


"Pete, hand Sasquatch the level, would ya, fer cryin' out loud?!!?"
At first, like a pair of hit-starved YouTubers they film on the side of winding mountain roads, providing documentary-style narration and in-camera edits as they question local Indian women about personal encounters, hear portly cryptozoologists cackle Bigfoot songs as they fumble over acoustic guitars, eat massive Bigfoot burgers at a tourist trap in Willow Creek, but as Kelly's teasing drives Jim to take the project further in seeking out the Bluff Creek river bed where the 1967 film was shot, they encounter interference in the form of angry country folk who tell 'em to g'wan an' git while they still can. Refusing to am-scray in the face of backwoods adversity, Jim hikes his girlfriend into the deep forest anyway and it isn't long before the signature wood knocks and high-pitched screams join the clueless campers, clearly in over their fool-heads already. While trying to vacate the premises in haste, Jim manages to get them lost, even stumbling upon the historic river bed, complete with giant footprints in the mud that look awfully fresh. Men. You gotta love us. It all wraps up much like one might predict it would, at least I know I called it during the coming attractions. Actually, as the cashier was handing me the bag with the disc inside and my change, but hey...


The Yacumos have the tent surrounded but we're gonna keep film-...sorry, wrong movie.
I dunno, maybe I'm tougher to please than I originally thought, but if you're gonna do a Bigfoot movie in my estimation, the opportunity arises these days to hire stellar FX artists to whip you up the most realistic, believable suit you can afford, for the film's big money shot, if there is a big money shot, that is. Bobcat felt the movie didn't need one, for whatever reason, probably in sticking as close as possible to the wildly popular Blair Witch bargain mold. With no real pay off to speak of after building admirable levels of tension in the tent sequence (unless the nekkid hillbilly chick turns you on, of course), the ending seems a little flat and cheap for a horror movie. Mainstream chimps might be satisfied with the fifteen minutes of general concern that preceded, but like I said, I'm probably tougher to please than the average cymbal smasher that Hollywood targets with these things. The potential was definitely there, but unrealized in the end, unfortunately. Overall, it's still worth seeing. On the scale, two Wops will have to do for Zed from the Police Academy gang's directorial debut.


"Look over in the treeline...I think I see Egg Stork from 'One Crazy Summer'..."

" The Legend of McCullough's Mountain" (1965) d/ Massey Cramer

Rarely seen regional fare from the sixties and seventies like Ron n' June Ormond's "The Monster and the Stripper" or  Brad Grinter's "Blood Freak", offer cheap retro thrills n' chills by the drive-in carload, and tonight's review, a 1965 Massey Cramer cheapie geared towards kids starring early Georgia horror host Bestoink Dooley (an ultra-hokey alter ego of George Ellis) turned 'squatchploitation mockumentary by exploitation icon Donn"The Force Beyond" Davison eleven years later, is no exception. The brisk feature, also known as "Legend of Blood Mountain", and "The Demon Hunter", would become "Blood Beast of Monster Mountain" in Davison's mitts, a title that surely doesn't forget any of the groovy unexplained phenomena buzzwords of the occult-minded decade. The resulting headache-inducingly incoherent, cut n' paste mess is both insulting to fully developed adult brains and hilarious to behold, often at the exact same time...


Bestoink Dooley(George Ellis). No, really, that's your male lead.
After a toe tappin' country title track, we meet self proclaimed "World Traveler, Lecturer, and Psychic Investigator", Donn Davison himself, giving polyester wood ape dissertation in front of a map full of strategic cut-out Bigfoot shapes (and sometimes just in front of some dynamite wood paneling), and even going into the field (translation: nearest state park) to interview eyewitnesses (translation: alcoholics) who've allegedly come face-to-face with the mythical man-ape. Then it's back to 1965, and after watching some drape with ketchup smeared on his face screaming like a chick, we're treated to the trials and tribulations of would-be reporter, Bestoink Dooley (Ellis), who looks like the result of some wise guy slapping lesser Stooges Shemp Howard and Joe Besser together. We watch him oafishly spill his boss' ashtray then crunch his fingers under one of his spats (what's with the spats, anyway?), eat cookies in bed, do some halfhearted calisthenics, and drive around in a convertible bolt-bucket, before embarking on the story of a lifetime on his day off (with his trusty pad and pencil, of course), to report on the mysterious goings-on on the legendary Blood Mountain.


"As the nightfall fell, they smelled a foul-smelling smell. More double-entendre at eleven..."
As local folklore has it, when the mountain starts to bleed, it signals the appearance of a monster. Even after a drape geologist explains the strange phenomenon off as rust deposits (he receives a call confirming that it's blood only minutes after handing off the samples to an assistant, that's some quick work), Dooley still manages to pose the possibility of a monster's existence to him in much the same way a five year old might do it. Cut to some footage of apes at a zoo and more teleprompter speculation and antique Rooseveltian campfire stories from Davison. The monster, which kinda looks like a silhouette of Ted Nugent circa his late Dukes gigs, does show up, snuffs a beehived babe off-camera, and flops its arms around like a mid-70s kung fu extra in a mid-70s Philippines-shot cheapie, while backlit on an over-fogged set. In the end, Dooley somehow sets the beast on fire with an antique flamethrower, and it's not long before a flaming dummy falls limply over a cliff, where it no doubt joined my sanity, having endured seventy plus minutes of this.
  

A couple of thigh scratches? She's a goner, for sure.
Groucho Marx's ex, Erin Fleming appears here, as does Kenny Rogers' ex-wife, Marianne Gordon. She probably shoulda known when to fold 'em. As primitive as a pair of bearskin knickers and lazy as a quaalude martini at a Stone Mountain picnic, this disaster, which plays like an early H.G. Lewis kiddie feature and looks as though it was edited with a weed whacker, only registers on the scale at all due to the shlocky nostalgic value it holds, and major props are indeed due to the folks at Something Weird for making sure trashy oddities like this never disappear. Still, medicate yourself heavily before you sit down to watch this one, believe me, it couldn't hurt the experience. Uno Wop-po.


"Laugh at my spats, will ya ?!!!?"

The Bukwas Stops Here: My Favorite Bigfoot Movies

Whether or not you believe in some hidden race of yet undiscovered nine foot tall wood-boogers is irrelevant when it comes to the bossman of the forest's varied silver screen appearances over the years, providing viewers with both shocks n' shlock in everything from half-baked mockumentaries to vintage porn. Whatever your preference in cinematic bipedal crypto-primates may be, there's probably something you'll enjoy here. Or laugh hysterically at, in some(most, really) cases.




16) Legend of Bigfoot(1976)

"That's not Bigfoot! That's my wife!" might sound like the punchline to a joke, but it could also double as the synopsis for this mockumentary by legendary outdoorsman and hoaxer, Ivan Marx.




15) Beauties and the Beast(1974)

"Hey Mack, would you mind telling that leg-jacked bimbo underneath you that your bag is slappin' off of to roll slightly to the right? She's on top of my leaf pouch and my magic berries are in there..."



14) Bigfoot(1970)

D-cupped go-go girls get lugged off by libidinous mate-starved monsters(translation: phony-looking monkey suits) while John Carradine enlists teenaged dirtbikers to help him blow off dynamite on even phonier-looking sets.





13) Capture of Bigfoot(1979)

Forget about the embarrassing white Bigfoot suit that belongs on a Lost in Space set chasing Dr. Smith around some foam boulders for a minute, and realize that this movie houses one of the most ridiculous dummy shots in cinema history.



12) Snowbeast(1977)

'Jaws'(1975) in the made-for-tv snow; tough guy Bo Svenson hogs eighty-six minutes of screen time, the Yeti gets two.



11) Sasquatch-The Legend of Bigfoot(1977)

A mid-seventies mockumentary with more padding than payoff, but if baggy gorilla suits silhouetted against the skyline, staged animal attacks, and encounter dramatizations are what socks it to you, then here you are. The much scrutinized Patterson/Gimlin Big Suit footage also figures prominently, as one would expect in this type of thing.



 10) Mysterious Monsters(1975)

That mask-uatch bears a striking resemblance to Rene Auberjonois.  Peter Graves also says "Ah."




9) The Untold(2002)

Lance Henriksen and pals search the dense forest for his missing daughter and his company's missing DNA sequencing technology and are, in turn, hunted down, one by one like animals by what's tantamount to the live-action version of this guy right here.



8) Yeti - il gigante del 20. secolo(1977)

Whatsa mattah you, Italian Disco-Yeti, why you change-ah you size right-ah before my very eyes-ah?




7) Curse of Bigfoot(1975)

This movie is undeniable proof that Bigfoot doesn't exist, because, if he did, he'd surely lumber down out of the wilderness and put his colossal skunk apey foot up the asses of everybody that was still alive that had a hand in making this one. Pure rotten enjoyment.



6) Abominable(2006)

Bigfoot bites a guy's head in half like a goo-filled chocolate easter bunny. Do I really need to add anything to that?



5) Shriek of the Mutilated(1974)

The greatest global-networking-cannibal-cult-uses-yeti-as-a-cover-to-eat-groovy-collegiates movie ever made.



4) Creature From Black Lake(1976)

A hippified conscientious objector named Rives and a 'Nam vet  named Pahoo who hates fried chicken, on an Bigfoot investigative grant from college, drive to the bayou and encounter amorous hillbilly girls, Jack Elam in his long johns, and are serenaded by Dub Taylor's countrified warbling. Bigfoot is not amused.





3)The Legend of Boggy Creek(1972)

John Chesna knows every word to this movie and sings all the songs, you don't even have to ask him to, most of the time. I hear Smokey may even make him an honorary Crabtree in a ceremony someday down there in the lonely bottoms.




2) Horror Express(1972)

When an ancient brain-sucking alien intelligence inhabits a suddenly unfrozen 'squatch on a passenger train, you'd better make sure Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing are on board. Cossack Telly cracks a mean interrogative lash, too. Old school late night television delight.



1) Night of the Demon (1980)

Anyone who's seen this one knows full well, this movie lost it's footing during the pre-credit sequence and plunged headlong into a fifty-five gallon vat of crazy, from which some good egg threw it a towline comprised entirely of insane gore set pieces, but despite game rescue attempts, it drowned in the fucking crazy, any ol' ways.

"The Legend of Boggy Creek"(1972)d/Charles B. Pierce

We'll lumber into the month of April with a drive-in classic right out of the shadowy bottomlands of seventies' Texarkana folklore, as realized by local ad salesman and film set decorator Charles B. Pierce largely on a hundred thousand dollar donation by one of his clients, only to return some twenty-five million dollars at the box-office to date, standing as one of the most successful films of 1972.With the aforementioned budget limitations, Pierce cast his movie with many locals, using a gaggle of high schoolers as a makeshift film crew and approaching would-be actors with his plans while haunting a gas station(!) while producing, directing, filming, and even crooning the title track himself, resulting in a shabby-yet-authentic feel to his cryptozoological mockumentary, which would later inspire genre hit The Blair Witch Project(1999).The memorable artwork for the one sheet, as seen above, was supplied by none other than Ralph McQuarrie, who also designed the original Star Wars trilogy.The titular "Fouke Monster" has been reportedly seen by the southern Arkansas community as far back as the fifties, described as a hulking reddish-brown hominid of abhorrent fragrance, lonely cry, and giant three-toed footprints that it's been known to leave in the surrounding beanfields, and upon the eyewitness testimony of these townsfolk Pierce drew his own inspiration.Despite some amateur camerawork, acting performances, and a creature that looks at a glance to be a combination of a Howard Stern wig and a cheap gorilla costume, this one is probably the most terrifying G rated movie ever made this side of The Apple Dumpling Gang(1975), Escape to Witch Mountain(1975), or Benji the Hunted(1987).

"ZOMG! The hen just layed like, FOUR EGGS.."
After endless fuzzy eco-shots of wetlands and wilderness are interrupted by the Fouke monster's trademark 'lonely cry'(more resembles somebody taking a blowtorch to a baboon's egg purse, but that's just me), we see the narrator(Vern Stierman) as a young boy(Chuck Pierce, Jr) excitedly hurrying through countless fields to get to a country store, where he tells the local rocking chair set about a wild man terrorizing his family's home nearby, resulting in the coots laughingly promising to fix the wagon of any hairy varmints at a later date and sending him off.On-screen testimonial and lo-fi re-enactments of encounters with the creature from residents with expositive narration about Fouke's swampy and desolate locale follows; the prodigious Crabtree family apportions much of this screen time to their avail: Smokey's got a colossal hat, while teen trapper/fisher extraordinaire, Travis, is later immortalized in a frothy country ballad that'd break Boxcar Willie out in hives.To further serve the deceased Equus ferus caballus the taste of the lash, Buddy Crabtree's playing James Crabtree, and Jeff Crabtree is in the role of Fred Crabtree, both of whom flounder into the creature's path packing redneck heat with similarly anti-climactic results."He always travels the creeks...", notes the narrator, matter-of-factly.He also likes to peep tom around Mary Beth Searcy's pad, with a hot lead-tittie hereby administered by swamp-savvy Travis directly afterwards; a moment of silence for the kitteh, expiring from fright during the night.Wounded, the beast still manages to punk out the finest hunting dogs that Texas and Arkansas had to offer, respectively, in a hunt that goes as well as DAC on Showtime at the Apollo.Then the real terror begins in the form of a wildlife montage accompanied by a bromidic ballad as cackled by the film's director.C'mon everybody, sing along at home:This is how the story plaaaaays, a world on which we seldom gaaaaze, apagefromthebookofyesterdaaaaays...

She was astounded to find 1962 on the back porch, looking for it's 'secretary look' back...
Hey Travis Crabtree, wait a minute for meee.Let's go back in the bottoms, back where the fish are bitin', where all the world's inviiiiiitin'...Herb Jones, on the other hand, enjoys the secluded penetralia of his shack out in the bottoms, visited occasionally by those Crabtree boys what furnish him tobacco and sugar and whatnot.Though the penurious old codger who once blew part of his foot away in a boating(?) accident makes for intriguing filler, his segment is creature-free.Some footprint investigation and speculation thereafter segues us into Bessie Smith's encounter with the unkempt brute, who then procedes to intrude on three isolated girls' pajama party as a gent named Walraven reports on his hide-ripped hound from a nearby mobile home."The creeks...he always travels the creeks.", adds the narrator.Next, Charles Turner and Don Ford, two locally employed cattlehands, move their wives and small children into a small house together to conserve money, only to have the infernal wretch harrass their lonely wives, until they're forced to flee to the landlord, who's gotta be distantly related to Tarantino somehow, I'm telling ya.The next day Bobby Ford and young Corky Hill find strange three-toed footprints in the mud while fishing Boggy Creek for a minute, and that very night, the Fouke monster is fixin' to return; to shamble around their property, sticking a hairy mitt through the bathroom window while Bobby's dumping for knowledge.The men of the house fire several rounds at the cryptid, which a constable later dismisses as a panther that's been living underneath the house, from the porch.After much fart-assing about with flashlights in the dark, the creature man-in-a-suit-handles Bobby, causing the traumatized hillbilly to crash through the front door while it's closed, in a state of stupefaction.Bobby recovers rapidly, and the Fords and Turners?Well, they mosey outta town with no future plans of ever returning, believe you me, Buster.Finally, we see the adult narrator revisiting the empty house, pondering the existence of such things and mysterious sounds in the night.Another monster howl cues a longer, more embarrassing reprise of the embarrassing main theme over a title montage...

Hey, what's (insert-your-mother's-name-here)'s swampy bottom doing out here in the swampy bottoms?
This one goes out, hands down, to Chesna, a cat I met through Doc that helped keep me reviewing flicks after my zine stint through his Bigfoot website; probably the only guy on this plane of existence that can pretty much recite tonight's review, verbatim.He'll even sing both tunes for you, as I learned one summer night while zooted sac around a fire at his place.Once we get the upcoming YouTube channel off the ground, you can expect to see and hear some of just what the hell I'm talkin' about, oh my cohorts.My earliest memories of this one stem from late night network television broadcasts as a young jar o'sauce, making light of the monkey suit with my kindred movie spirits and laughing at Bobby Ford busting through the door in a state of shock.What can I say, we were an odd conglomerate, me and my lads.I can throw this one(I dove at the Hen's Tooth bare bones dvd on sight, years ago) in every once in a while, and it takes me right back to those glorious days where anything seemed possible. Though Boggy Creek, from a technical standpoint, would merit somewhere between one and two Wops, I'm forced to give it the entertainment value score instead, which is three Big ones, all the way.A cult classic in every sense of the term.

" 'Try Texarkana, Louie,' you said.'There's bound to be bananas down there,' you said."