Deathgasm

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Black and death metal is, as we all know, evil music.
Corpse paint, five inch spikes, upside down crosses.
Hail Satan, et cetera. A perfectly provocative way for
outcast kids to thrust their feelings and aggressions
against the mundanity of suburbia. Unless, that
is, they happen upon The Black Hymn, a musical
incantation summoning The Blind One and transforming
the neighborhood vanilla population into
blood spewing demons.

First time feature director Jason Lei Howden, who
calls Peter Jackson’s Weta effects studio his day job,
grabs metal’s ickiest fantasies, Braindead, assorted
stomach turning messiness, and throws it all in a
super-sized blender. The result is a magnificent
gore-comedy. Deathgasm does not have the smarts.
It ain’t beautiful. It sure don’t attempt hipster cool.
It’s a film with screaming riffs, double base drums,
skillsaws mounted on electric guitars and a selection
of sex toys creatively put to use mowing down
demons in the most disgusting way imaginable.
Pure old school.

Joakim Sten

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