by: AthenaY
Posted on 03.09.10 in All Horror Films > Comedy > Slasher > Torture
Release Date: 1985

When I plucked a random movie out from my brother’s gargantuan horror film collection, I thought I knew what I’d be in for.  A Dario Argento giallo, maybe, or a psychedelic 70s sexploitation flick, or possibly a delightful Troma horror.  Something with Clint Howard in it, if I was lucky.  Alas, no.  My random pick wound up being the 1985 cult torture film about psychotic gardeners run amok: They Don’t Cut the Grass Anymore.

Everything about this movie screams “Mystery Science Theater 3000″. The basic plot is a bit kooky, but has potential– two hillbilly gardeners Billy Buck (John Smihula) and Jacob (Adam Beske) move to the New Jersey ‘burbs where their lawn maintenance business is boming.  Soon, however, they grow tired of being treated like dirt by their rich yuppy clients.  This leads to a violent killing rampage as the two sadistically torture pretty, young, shallow suburbanites to death.  What will it take to stop these two deranged landscapers from drenching the entire town in blood and gore?

This movie has the feel of a subpar student film.  One gets the sense that Billy Buck is supposed to be almost sympathetic since his vengeful violence is aimed at upsetting the status quo of  greed and materialism.  He’s driven by a strong sense of injustice– the kind of injustice that can only be remedied by butchering young rich people, tearing off their faces and slowly disembowling them.  He looks like a WWE cast-off with black war-paint circling his eyes, bare-chested under denim overalls.  Being surrounded by materialistic, insipid yuppies is what drives Billy Buck to murder.  Jacob, on the other hand, kills because he enjoys it.  He’s more of a stereotypical masked lunatic with serious self-esteem issues.  The rest of the cast is essentially a string of bland, no-name actors, all generically attractive in a fluffy-haired 1980s model way. They all portray snobby, up-and-coming Wall Street bankers or doctor’s wives.  The acting is painfully stilted and hollow.  A tough psychologist (Maura Del Veccio) whose role is meant to be vital to the story, blends in so much with the other actresses that it’s tough to tell who’s who and why her character is important at all.

They Don’t Cut the Grass Anymore skimps on some areas of production, yet it goes all out as far as blood and gore is concerned.  The special effects range from above average to downright ridiculous.  Violence to excess is the motto for director Nathan Schiff.  At first, seeing what’s obviously a dummy having an unconvincing mask being slowly pulled from its skull fits right in with the over-the-top dark humor of the rest of the movie.  But the longer that the endless torture scenes went on, the more uncomfortable I felt watching them.  Sure, the victims aren’t especially likeable. Yeah, they robotically deliver lines like, “It’s you I love, not just your body!” in scenes of seduction.  Yet evisceration seems like a steep price to pay for their transgressions.  The way the camera lingers almost lovingly on images of flesh being ripped apart, bleeding and then peeled away as the killers scoop out internal organs is disturbing.

I can see where the director was attempting to use this movie as a commentary on the culture of greed and capitalism that tainted the early-to-mid 1980s.  Somehow, though, amidst the overtly ridiculous plot contrivances and excessive torture-porn, the message gets drowned out.

• ★★★★★

  Acting:

• ★★★★★

  Blood:

• ★★★★★

  Violence:

• ★★★★★

  Partying:

• ★★★★★

  Language:

• ★★★★★

  Humor:

• ★★★★★

  Predictable:

• ★★★★★

  Girls:

• ★★★★★

  Gore:

• ★★★★★

  Sexuality:

• ★★★★★

  Torture:

• ★★★★★

  Overall: