BUCK WILD

Stars: Matthew Albrecht, Joe Stevens, Isaac Harrison, Dru Lockwood, Jarrod Pistilli, Meg Cionni, Mark Leslie Ford and Tyler Glodt.
Writer: Matthew Albrecht and Tyler Glodt
Director: Tyler Glodt

Rating: 3/5

Broken Lizard meets Dawn of the Dead in Buck Wild, an OK yokel-themed zom-com that relies on cast chemistry above anything really amusingly ground-breaking in its quest for genre laughs.

Destined to be pitched against Edgar Wright’s laddish classic Shaun of the Dead (and A Night of Horror festival’s other undead gagfest, Cockneys vs Zombie), Tyler Glodt’s well-paced low-budgeter offers ample blood and guts when needed though could have used some tighter scripting in its first act. The overall impact suggests it will fall short of breakout hit status, but it is certainly fun enough for those that will watch anything zombie-themed.

An outbreak is unleashed when rancher Clyde (Joe Stevens) stumbles across a mythical Chupacabra hiding in his barn. Some murky logic mutes the fact, but it seems that after the hideous beast bites him, Clyde becomes Patient Zero, responsible for kickstarting an undead uprising in his small, dusty hometown.

The timing could not have been worse for a gaggle of four city guys, heading to the backwoods for a weekend of game hunting. Co-writer Matthew Albrecht channels Matthew Perry as nice guy Craig, Decent Guy 101 enjoying some manly time before becoming betrothed. He is entirely unaware that his root-rat camping buddy Lance (Isaac Harrison) is getting it on with his fiancé-to-be. Making up the posse is the slightly too prissy Tom (a mannered but very funny Dru Lockwood) and the off-kilter Jerry (Jarrod Pistilli), a nutty New Yorker whose presence puts the whole group on edge.

The plotting is negligible, barely providing a framework upon which to hang episodic bouts of character based humour and increasingly icky blood-letting, though its wafer-thin foundation doesn’t necessarily undercut the laughs. Central to the boys nightmarish experience is Clyde’s typically sexy farmgirl daughter, Candy (an alluring Meg Cionni) and a dimwit sheriff (Glodt himself, in a convincing cameo). Harder to explain away is Mark Leslie Ford’s Brit-accented bad guy Billy Ray, a particularly odd and under-explained presence in this otherwise all-American setting.

Zombie action is entirely at the service of the comedy, though gore is at the fore when required. A mauled deer, an undead-ite taking a pointy crucifix to the face and one nasty Romero-esque disembowelling will ensure horror buffs leave happy. Glodt has gone for runners instead of shufflers, although it waivers depending on the level of threat required.

Tech package is pleasingly top-notch, given remote locale and presumably low budget. Glodt and co-editor Lynel Moore deserve kudos for nailing comedic beats and effective horror moments with equal aplomb; Tod Campbell’s skill as DOP is captured (via the ubiquitous Red One rig) in a backlit zombie onslaught that looks awesome.