A young woman who appears to be a zombie sits with a gun in a room full of corpses. Cara Carter describes how her father, Dr. Ben Carter, decided to bring his dead wife back from the dead. Naturally, in the process of trying out his formula he manages to create a ton of zombies. His daughter gets exposed to the drug, but it has an unusual effect on her as she retains her intelligence and emotions. Of course, the zombie plague soon starts to spread. The bites, quite naturally, are infectious. With law enforcement seemingly hopeless dumb, is there any hope of survival?Written by
After a zombie virus takes hold a group of people try to find a cure and stay alive.
Bombshell Bloodbath is the perfect quintessential homage to the late 70s and early 80s countless churned out VHS horrors and banned video nasties. Brett Mullen and writer Sky Tilley cleverly offer a mash-up of horror ideas borrowing from the best of the worst and best of the best including Dawn of the Dead, The Beyond, The Evil Dead to name a few.
Bombshell Bloodbath is purposely all over the place with its tone harking back to the good old days of horror and grind house cinema. Moody voice overs, dramatic mad scientist, experiments with rats, tape recordings, seedy strip clubs, cabins in the wood and zombies tearing flesh and more.
The flesh eaters mostly bookend the film with the actors emulating the days of Neon Maniacs, Nightmare City and the countless horror performances alike. Samantha Mills it great as the mysterious blonde bombshell, Cara is wonderfully played by Alex Elliott in amongst the great practical effects and archetype camera angles of Italian exploitation films, like the Barbarians, Rats and Hell of the Living Dead. The music is the icing on the cake for nostalgia hounds and new fans of the old sub-genre horror with composer Matt Hill channelling the likes of Fabio Frizzi and Goblin.
Bombshell Bloodbath does what House of the Devil recreated for old school horrors, this revisits the atmosphere and execution of horror exploitation films.
If there ever was an indie love letter written to Fulci, Romero, Argento and Lenzi, it would look something like this.
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