Review: Killer Clown / Cert: 18 / Director: John Lechago / Screenplay: John Lechago / Starring: Trent Haaga, Victoria De Mare, Al Burke, Jessica Whitaker / Release Date: Out Now
Who’s this clown? Well, to explain: otherwise known as Killjoy Goes to Hell, what we have here is the fourth in a series of movies about a supernatural jester who messes with people in various bloody and anarchic ways. Unfortunately, the view in the nether regions is that recently he’s been falling down on the job, and in this instalment he’s hauled up before a hellion court and charged with being unworthy of the name of demon. If found guilty, he’ll have to turn in his comedy trousers once and for all. Cue the most ramshackle legal drama since that one about whether the Jack of Hearts stole the tarts.
The events of past movies are referred to – in a subplot we encounter Sandie (Whitaker), a survivor from Killjoy 3 and now a quivering wreck who laughs continually to keep Killjoy at bay – but honestly, you won’t struggle to get up to speed, especially as not a whole lot new happens. The thing is, Killer Clown is talky, very talky. You might well argue that the script is much too garrulous and tongue-in-cheek for its own good, but then again you can’t deny that the cast have fun with the facetious dialogue.
As Killjoy, Trent Haaga does a spot-on impression of Michael Keaton in Beetlejuice, jabbering out his lines in a gravelly voice and making his eyes spin in his head, while Victoria De Mare is very sprightly and endearing as Batty Boop, his ever-perky partner in crime. Of the other supporting performances, many are greatly enhanced by the film’s one really outstanding asset – the special FX make-up by Tom Devlin, with its visually arresting Gothic carny vibe.
Shot on digital video, this is plainly a very low budget movie, so there’s no point in doing the film critic equivalent of kicking it up the backside with a size sixteen shoe and hitting it over the head with a big, squeaky hammer. Yes, it’s rather static, and it’s not at all scary, and no, you won’t die laughing, but it does have its own kind of engaging silliness (if it weren’t for the swearing, the violence, the dodgy theology and the fact that Batty Boop’s costume is 90% body paint, it would make a fun kiddy’s show). It’s different. And in this day and age that’s more surprising than a custard pie to the face.
Extras: Trailer
