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A group of hobgoblins, who allow you to live out your fantasies but kill you in the process, escape from a studio vault, and a security guard and his friends must stop them before dawn. Written by
Brendan Dillon <email@example.com>
Only the eyes for the hobgoblins were going to be seen in an earlier draft of the script. See more »
After the final grenade explodes, Nick switches to his gun twice. The scene cuts to an earlier grenade explosion, and a man in a white shirt is thrown from the bar. See more »
[Dennis is listening to his radio]
[takes off his headphones]
Hey! What gives?
You're being paid to work around here, not just sit around and blast your eardrums!
Hey, take it easy. I can do both.
[a phone rings, McCreedy answers]
Didn't you hear the phone ringing?
[...] See more »
Creatures celebrity voices impersonated See more »
I really don't have anything new to add but I just felt like I had to comment on this sack. So here goes:
Atrocious. I'm running through my MST3K DVD collection again and I just watched Hobgoblins for about the 10th time. It's really, really painful but it was next on the list... You can see that there is a tiny kernel of an actual movie buried under all the crap that is "Hobgoblins" but it just couldn't get out. Everything about this movie is 4th rate. The story, the acting, the effects, the women, the "action scenes", the... ahhhh forget it. I can watch a piece of crap like "The Bloodwaters of Dr. Z" (aka "Zaat") over and over and over with hardly any ill effects (I like it in fact- btw, it will be on TCM later this month- October, 2009) but "Hobgoblins" is a whole 'nother ballgame.
The worst part of it all may be that it's now about 12 hours after the movie ended, I had a good night's sleep, some coffee and some dry toast, my medications, and yet the ersatz "New Wave" dance music that Amy, Red Shorts, and Laraine Newman were frolicking to in the living room is STILL RUNNING THROUGH MY HEAD. This torment will last for days.
Good luck, won't you?
4 of 4 people found this review helpful.
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