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Jolly Roger: Massacre at Cutter’s Cove

Directed by Gary Jones

Written by Gary Jones, Jeff Miller

Starring Rhett Giles, Tom Nagel, Kristina Korn, Thomas Downey, Kim Little

Produced by David Michael Latt, David Rimawi, Sherri Strain

Rated R

80 minutes

What do you get when you take undead pirates with familiar aspirations, a plot that seems vaguely familiar, more than enough blood and fake heads, and strippers?

You get “Jolly Roger: Massacre at Cutter’s Cove,” the newest film
from The Asylum.

So what we have here is a pirate who wants his gold back. Yeah, I know, it sounds familiar. It’s the plot of the entire “Leprechaun” franchise, only with an undead pirate instead of a homicidal midget. And of course, our pirate buddy is willing to go to really horrendous lengths—including killing anything and everything in his path, even a couple of rather attractive strippers—to get his gold.

And how much good can gold possibly do this guy, anyway? Unless he’s planning to get like a whole lot of plastic surgery, no one’s gonna take his money. The guy looks like he went through a garbage disposal face first. Not that anyone seems to care—he walks into a strip club and nobody bats an eye. Even the strippers don’t seem to care—they grind away at him like he were dripping with twenties and looked like Jesse McCartney.

Okay, so a movie like this isn’t exactly long in the old logic department. Frankly, the back of the box says it all—“A new horror masterpiece from the director of Mosquito and Spiders.”

Oh my.

On what planet is “Mosquito” considered a masterpiece? “Spiders” wasn’t so bad, but “Mosquito” was just plain sad. And frankly, “Jolly Roger” will never be anyone’s idea of a masterpiece unless your sole criteria for judgment is “a movie can only be declared good when two or more actresses expose themselves.”

Check out the fantastically puerile ghost story at the twelve minute mark! This is so unbelievably bad, I think he could get a film deal out of it. Check out the excerpt: “It’s called ‘Babes in Whoreland’, and there’s these five sluts. And they get killed. By this guy in this mask.” The character telling this one probably has a decent chance at getting it produced if he can pitch it to Brain Damage or Shock-O-Rama Cinema, as long as Misty Mundae would be willing to play—GASP!—a SLUT.

Even better, check out the CSI rejects at the crime scene at the sixteen minute mark. One body missing a head, one body with a torso cut in half longways, and they can’t quite figure out what the murder weapon is. I’m guessing it’s not a handgun.

And at the twenty five minute mark, we get this absolute hoot of a sequence in which a guy, with all the aplomb of McGyver, picks a police station door lock.

With the underwire from his girlfriend’s bra.

I don’t even know where to begin telling you what’s wrong with that.

And at twenty eight and a half minutes, the plastic heads go a-flying.

This is the really, truly interesting thing about “Jolly Roger: Massacre at Cutter’s Cove.” It is literally packed to the gills with probably unintentionally comical moments. Moments where the effects or the writing or the acting or even the post-production work isn’t exactly all it could have been. I could keep a running list of bizarre sequences that only make even a scrap of sense when viewed in frame advance, like the head shot at thirty five minutes ten seconds where it goes from semi attached to midway down the back and into the fish bowl in the space of one frame.

The ending isn’t all the much of a surprise, but still fairly well done. It completes things rather well, and this is an ending’s minimal purpose. It includes one truly comical sequence, one fairly massive cheat, and one small twist that felt tacked on just so they could say that there was a twist ending.

The special features include deleted scenes, a behind the scenes featurette, audio options, cast and crew commentary, and trailers for “War of the Worlds,” “Intermedio,” “Jolly Roger,” “Lethal Eviction,” and “Alien Abduction.”

All in all, “Jolly Roger: Massacre at Cutter’s Cove” won’t win any awards any time soon, but if you’re looking for standard, run of the mill indie horror fare for your Saturday night movie party, you could do vastly worse.

Steve Anderson is a film critic who collects action figures so he can dress them up as his favorite horror villains. He lives somewhere in the United States.


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