Mutant Blast. 2020.
Directed by Fernando Alle.
Starring Pedro Barão Dias, Maria Leite, João Vilas, Mário Oliveira, Joaquim Guerreiro, Vanda R. Rodrigues, and Sofia Reis.
SYNOPSIS:
Maria, a fearless soldier, and TS-347, a man with superhuman strength, are being pursued by a military cell responsible for scientific experiments that have resulted in a zombie apocalypse.
Everyone’s favorite Mutant Blast moment will differ. Mine? When a philosophical, human-sized lobster in a business suit squares off against his katana-wielding dolphin nemesis. Go ahead. Soak up that bonkers amalgamation of words like indulgent, liquified butter. Fernando Alle’s radioactive midnighter is of the lowest budgets and highest hallucinatory ambitions. Many Wiseau wannabes have attempted this instant-cult path to overnight success, but few succeed in earning their forced-upon legacy. Luckily, Alle is no freakshow fraud. You’ll be hard-pressed to enjoy a more passionate, prop-heavy exploitation of gore and gonzo wtf-ery this year, whether in Tromaville or Hollywood.
Pedro (Pedro Barão Dias) regains consciousness after a night of liquor shots, undead neighbors, and giraffe masks. The same morning, undercover soldier Maria (Maria Leite) releases a TS-347 (Joaquim Guerreiro) superhuman weapon from governmental experimentation. The unlikely heroes cross paths just as zombies start roaming national “sectors,” which sinister officials attempt to cleanse by launching ten nuclear warheads. Instead, the combined radioactivity either boils flesh or splices together human and animal DNA. Oh, did I mention Pedro and Maria must defeat TS-504 (also Joaquim Guerreiro)? Plus, Pedro probably still has a hangover.
Listen. Nothing in Mutant Blast stimulates logic, nor does that matter. Alle’s team is operating on a plateau of enlightenment somewhere between the dopiest eco-warrior on your college’s frisbee team and that one friend who over-worships Tom Savini’s career. Narrative flow is continuously interrupted by unfathomable “realities,” but Alle always puts entertainment first. Dialogue won’t even acknowledge what movie we’re watching as Maria and Pedro keep repeating the word “zombie,” but bleeps censor like a curse word. You don’t need to understand the “whys,” because how is that preventing your enjoyment of a monster-rodent attack complete with super-soaker milk squirting teets?
Then again, Mutant Blast is a no-budget schlockfest that features random plotted interludes between flimsy apocalyptic nonsense with even more randomness thrust into view. If Astron-6, Troma, or any other intentionally cheeseball splatterfests aren’t your brand of horror, hit the next U-turn post haste. When the French-speaking, ornate lobster (named Jean-Pierre) launches into a soapbox diatribe about how humanity has trashed Mother Earth then transitions into his hate-filled rant against dolphins, you’ll sigh. When Pedro ruins Maria’s opening mission through incompetent stupidity, you’ll groan. Heads do roll, but they’re rubbery, foam molds thwapped by crustacean claws that look even faker. Watch the trailer; use your best judgment.
My adoration of movies like Demon Wind, Dude Bro Party Massacre III, and other examples means so much to this practical promotion of guts, guffaws, and gross-out glee. Sure, Alle overuses an effect that spikes combat knives into zombie skulls with sanguine geyser effects. Mutant Blast also features a full humanoid lobster costume, equally sized dolphin costume, workable puppets, and countless detached appendages. Blood drenches characters whether they’re boot-stompin’ heads into mush or decapitatin’ or rippin’ hearts from brittle rib cages. You’re here for graphic, do-it-yourself imagination that results in body count mayhem, and Alle delivers. You’ve never seen a samurai-inspired mutation square-off this cool, calm, and oddly collected.
When trying to analyze why Mutant Blast works where your Velocipastors or Whalewolfs fail, I keep returning to this relaxed vibe throughout most, if not all, scenes. Alle never forces so-bad-it’s-good trash down audience throats. Pedro Barão Dias and Maria Leite perform within their limitless parameters to react, evolve, and sharpen chemistry during the horrifically impossible. Leite’s cold-killer is the constant buzzkill to Dias’ hapless romantic who can’t stop eating his own foot (not physically, which is a shock), but their morbid back-and-forth develops with heart. Even better, outlandish jokes are naturally funny. Alle and company believe in themselves, their Mad Libs script, and criminal insanity. That’s the sweet spot most miss.
Do you kiss your Manborg poster before bedtime each night? Fantastic, rent Mutant Blast. Watch bodybuilder elites tear the undead limb-from-torso. Wince as Pedro leaps into explicit rambles that so aren’t getting him dignified attention. Let out your littlest squee when a baby rat bursts from Pedro’s hand as his signature mutation, replacing fingers and palm meat. Most of all, have an after-dark blast. A “mutant blast,” as Fernando Alle hopes. Mission accomplished, microbudget maestro. I’ll never again utter the phrase “M$TH&RF#CKING DOLPHINS!!!” without a cheeky, full-of-joy snicker.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Matt spends his after-work hours posting nonsense on the internet instead of sleeping like a normal human. He seems like a pretty cool guy, but don’t feed him after midnight just to be safe (beers are allowed/encouraged). Follow him on Twitter/Instagram/Letterboxd (@DoNatoBomb).
