Matty waxes poetic about three similar films by two B-movie masters. 

Jim Wynorski and Fred Olen Ray.

Two masters, three similarly footed films; born of ingenuity and entrepreneurship, all indebted, in their own unique ways, to the king of such enterprising practices, Roger Corman. Two of the features in question, Wynorski’s SORORITY HOUSE MASSACRE II (1990) and Ray’s EVIL TOONS (1992), were even partially lensed at properties next door to each other, on a street in a sketchy part of Los Angeles [1] that has since accommodated the productions of: The People Under the Stairs (1991), Insidious (2010), and — at the Schlock Pit-ier end of the spectrum — various Mirror, Mirror and Witchcraft sequels, and a boatload more Ray epics (Haunting Fear (1990), Spirits (1990), and Inner Sanctum (1991) among them).

The sole ‘official’ follow-up to the original Sorority House Massacre (1986) but the fifth of seven movies rooted in the Slumber Party Massacre (1982) universe, Wynorski’s Sorority House Massacre II began life as the auteur-branded ‘Jim Wynorski’s House of Babes’ and then the devilishly titled ‘Nightie Nightmare’ before being rechristened a sequel by Corman and his equally savvy wife, Julie. As with the rest of the films in the heptalogy — a dynasty that, in order, also includes Slumber Party Massacre II (1987), Slumber Party Massacre III (1990), and the Wynorski-helmed HARD TO DIE (1990) and Cheerleader Massacre (2003) [2] — true connectivity is tenuous. The tethering is provided by one of Wynorski’s favourite devices: stock footage (cf. Not of This Earth (1988), Raptor (2001), his military hardware programmers). Here it’s cribbed and repurposed from Slumber Party Massacre, something the Chopping Mall (1986) wiz freely admits was done to pad the running time when Sorority House Massacre II came up short. Still, those needing kinship will find a splash of nourishment in the overlap between this giddy romp and the aforementioned Hard to Die, a virtual remake that boasts the same cast and several of the same characters (specifically, Gail Thackray as an arse-kicking heroine and Peter Spellos as Wynorski mascot and arch red herring Orville Ketchum).

Top tier additions to the Scream Queen vogue of the late ‘80s/early ‘90s, Sorority House Massacre II and Hard to Die are impossible to discuss separately so entwined are their makings. According to legend, Sorority House Massacre II was written, prepped and shot in a ten day frenzy to capitalise on sets left over from Slumber Party Massacre III and Rock ‘n’ Roll High School Forever (1991). Operating under the secret guidance of Julie Corman while she and her husband were away, Wynorski was given carte blanche to create as he saw fit; his only instruction was to prevent Roger finding out until the film wrapped. Upon the Cormans’ return — and upon Roger’s discovery that his heir apparent had shepherded a project for his Mrs. on the sly — the legendary mogul was that impressed and that pleased with the finished article that he ordered Wynorski to do it again, “for me this time”. Thus, the bombastic Hard to Die was slapped in front of cameras. 

Tackled with Wynorski’s usual boyish chutzpah and enlivened by some marvellously expressionistic photography, Sorority House Massacre II and Hard to Die are uproarious, post-modern probings of slasher, action, and haunted house flick codes and conventions, the differences in their snappily paced narratives boiling down to where they take place: in a cursed homestead (“The Old Hockstatter Place!” [3]) and a high-tech skyscraper respectively (hence Hard to Die’s mockbusting moniker).

Offering an identical blend of robust comedy, light chills and bodacious beauties (albeit to lesser effect), Ray conceived Evil Toons after watching Robert Zemeckis’ groundbreaking live action/animated adventure, Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988). Reasoning that the type of mouth-breathers thirsting for Jessica Rabbit and her lovingly doodled knockers would pay through the nose to see a cartoon character rip the clothes off women, Ray pitched the film to Corman. Though intrigued, the impresario refused to believe that the Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers (1988) director could achieve such a feat for the $250,000 he was asking for and passed. Undeterred and wanting to piggyback on the schedule for his uncredited second unit work on Camp Fear (1991), Ray flashed Corman the Vs and cobbled Evil Toons together himself — for the cheaper price of $140,000, no less. 

Alas, despite emerging as Ray’s most defiant opus, his tenacity bites him on the backside a little.

Evil Toons is a classic example of ‘good but…’. The knowingly kitsch and gently spoof-y humour is delightful, and the gratuitously silly T&A is exquisite. Composer Chuck Cirino’s main suite is rapturous, the cameos from David Carradine, Dick Miller and Michelle Bauer a treat, and Madison Stone and Monique Gabrielle splendid as two of four girls who fall afoul of the eponymous demonic sketch (voiced by an uncredited Robert Quarry). Yet as entertaining as Evil Toons is, you can never shirk the feeling that it should have been louder and wilder. It’s wrong to judge a film based on what you wanted it to be rather than what it is. However, Evil Toons’ biggest issue is evidenced by its name: it almost certainly needed another toon on display — or, at the very least, more animation. As it stands, you get roughly two minutes of well-executed but strictly singular monster carnage before the 2D beastie possesses the shapely body of porn starlet Stone. So while Evil Toons ought to be acknowledged as a triumph of creativity and perseverance, it’s frustrating that the drop in budget robs the film’s hook of its punch.

[1] South Harvard Blvd to be precise, trivia nuts.
[2] An eighth and ninth movie, ‘Sorority House Massacre III’ (also known as ‘Final Exam’ and ‘The Legacy’, and again spearheaded by Wynorski) and Cheerleader Massacre 2 (2011), remain unreleased, and the tenth, the 2021 remake of Slumber Party Massacre, doesn’t count due to a distinct lack of Corman (in brief, it happened due to the selling of the exploitation maven’s catalogue to DVD and Blu-ray distributor Shout Factory).
[3] A tribute to frequent Wynorski collaborator, cinematographer Zoran Hochstatter.