Employing the familiar
device of a killer with two personalities, low-budget horror flick The Love Butcher has enough campy
elements that some scenes achieve a pleasant so-bad-it’s-good frisson. After all, it’s
hard to completely dislike a picture in which a stud says to his latest conquest,
“You’re going to make love to me. Satiate me. Fill me with nymphoid
satisfaction. And then you’ll lie at the foot of my altar and adore my godly
beauty.” James Lemp plays
Caleb, a bald, semi-deformed gardener with Coke-bottle glasses and rotted
teeth. He tends greens for middle-class families, methodically identifying where
pretty housewives reside. Then he switches to his other identity, Lester, a
hunk with a thick head of hair (courtesy of various wigs), to seduce and kill the housewives. Between murderous episodes, Caleb/Lester engages in
weird one-sided arguments, his Caleb personality challenging Lester’s virility
while Lester mocks Caleb’s ugliness. The Caleb disguise isn’t convincing, so every
character who buys into the illusion seems like an idiot. Also coming across as dim are the folks
investigating the murders, including cops and a reporter, because Caleb is
obviously the common denominator at the crime scenes. Still, most folks don’t
watch schlocky horror movies for logic, so it’s more damning that The Love Butcher fails to generate thrills.
Blame the clumsy filmmaking and dopey script, as well as Lemp’s limp
performance(s). In one scene, Lemp looks up and the film cuts to an insert of a
cloudy daytime sky—even though the scene in question takes place at night. And
during what’s supposed to be an emotional high point, the film repeatedly cuts
to a painting of a dog for no apparent reason. Perhaps the editor was overcome
with nymphoid satisfaction.
The Love Butcher: LAME
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