BODY COUNT – I like Euro takes on American slashers, which is what this is. Helmed by no less of a personage than Ruggero Deadato, but you can forget ‘Cannibal Holocaust’, ‘Body Count’ isn’t nasty or intense; it’s fun. Apart from Ruggero, I spotted many other Eurotrash and exploitation ‘names’ on the roll call – David Hess, Mimsy Farmer, Ivan Rassimov, even Charles bloody Napier. The plot – a campsite, a vanful full of pesky kids, various blade-based implements, but then something bad has happened and it’s fifteen years later. David Hess looks hard. The film looks cheap but plays kooky. As with ‘Bloody Moon’, the Euro-element throws in a curveball, weirds the tone, cuts the safety ropes, or at least wears them through them a little. The image of a teddy bear recurs with a sing-song nursery motif, giallo-style. The killer looks monstrous. ‘Body Count’ only ever makes crude moves, but those moves have an air of giddiness about them. There’s unlikely nudity in the world’s skankiest bathroom. This nudity isn’t the most unlikely thing about said bathroom as behind the mirror lurks the spirit of an ancient shaman! Well, it was clearly pointed out that the campsite was built on the site of a Native American burial ground, so OK. ‘Body Count’ rolls along amiably, a bit like a satisfying camping trip. When the inane dialogue flows and people strip inexplicably and awkwardly, it’s given a bit of punch by Claudio Simonetti in ‘Demons’-type mode. It loses something when it gets bogged down in the complexities of David Hess’s dire marriage, but it never wanders too far from slasher baseline. ‘Body Count’, you know the type by now. Someone needs to give us a blu ray.
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