Southern Fried Horror: Netherworld

No one you’ve heard of heats up the screen in this Full Moon feature. The action wastes no time as a young fellow dares enter Tonk’s Place. A bayou dive that is full service…and I mean full service… with roosters and snakes on the floor, drunks shooting up the fine establishment and ladies looking to take your mind off the fact you’re in a hillbilly version of a green inferno.

The clapboard establishment has a basement of working girls and a sub basement of some of that voudou hoodoo. The goods are protected by a flying concrete hand that soars from time its hidden labyrinth and crushes its victims skulls as it turns them into bird headed men from the adventures of John Mandeville.

Corey Thornton is the prodigal son of a plantation aristocrat who comes to inherit the estate. He is given the deceased’s instructions by a slightly mutated lawyer named Beauregard. He reads his father’s instructions on bringing him back to life without batting an eye. He is equally unflappable as the local jailbait openly propositions him in front of her mother. By now I would wonder what the Sam Hell was going on but Corey goes back to his pop’s journal where he describes his sexuality, kinks and exploits for his son in a dry, pseudo sociological manner.

The film moves from gothic setting to swampy backwater in predictable but entertaining fashion. Netherworld is almost the Cthulhu cult movie we’ve never gotten. It’s a Lovecraftian story seething with cosmic horror and a sexuality that was once repressed but has rages out of control due to the excesses of living and the dead. 4 stars for bayous, blues, Boobs and blood.