Early on in the zombie spoof/homage “Come Get Some!”, a rotted, undead arm reaches up from a grave and (cue the heavy metal!) graphically disembowels a young woman. With that, the tone is set for one wild-a*s ride to the darker realms of indie-dom. Apparently this ride leads south (who knew?) to Atlanta, GA and Charlotte, NC, where the filmmakers, along with a zillion of their stoner-looking buddies, spent weekends making cinematic history. Well, not quite. Too few will ever see this movie for it to qualify as a bona fide classic, but those that do will surely love it. Assuming, that is, they are devoted followers of early Sam Raimi and Peter Jackson. All others beware: “Come Get Some!” is an unapologetic splatter fest with a rollicking Southern-punk-trash bent. You’ll definitely need to hurl (at least once), but only after you’ve laughed yourself silly.
The movie’s cliché-riddled plot is far less interesting than its other charms, namely four bad-a*s punk b*****s, one bumbling government agent, four dim-witted rednecks, oodles and oodles of exposed organs, and, of course, one very dead Elvis. All of these elements, along with a little piece (an eye here, an ear there) of every zombie movie ever made, combine for one overstuffed gore fest. The sick fun starts when said bumbling agent (co-writer, co-producer Steven Grainger) is called out of semi-retirement to squash another uprising of the undead in some backwoods town, strangely populated by 20-something rock-and-roll types only. (Cue the heavy metal!!) “Time to save the world again baby!” Unbeknownst to the agent, known only as Last Resort Man, his own organization (H.U.D.S. Human Undead Defense Service) have somehow started all this business with the slow-walking brain munchers in order to scare up some much-needed fundage. They’ve enlisted the washed-up, drunken LRM in full confidence that he would fail miserably, as usual. H.U.D.S., personified by two menacing men-in-black (Dennis Coburn and Darrick Wilson), also enlisted a group of hillbillies (metal band Antiseen, Travis Wilson, Barry Hannibal, Jeff Clayton, and Doug Canipe) to quell any resistance from the living. Yet what the feds never counted on is one smoking hot group of riot grrrrls who end up unlikely partners with our fearless hero. (Cue the heavy metal!!!) There’s saucy Skylar (Jennifer Strickland), statuesque Christa (Hayley Mattison), cutie Ashlyn (Bonnie Moore), and their karmic leader, the dangerously alluring punk goddess Summer (Colleen Galeazzi). Yeah, they’re all hot and single, but trust me, you’d stand a better chance against the flesh eaters.
While I enjoyed most of “CGS” immensely, I must admit I grew weary of the incessant Southern trash-metal soundtrack (including Antiseen, Hellstomper, The Dead Kings, and Gideon Smith – these probably mean something to someone), as well as the incessant, over-the-top gore. Sure, it’s fun for a while, but after the 20th or so slow-mo, hot-s**t strutting scene set to yet another head smasher, I was checking the VCR’s run time. And then there’s the end, an all-out orgy of blood, guts, and chocolate pudding, that goes on and on and on and on. It may just be the zombie freak-out to end all zombie freak-outs, but half way through, I didn’t know what the hell was happening, nor did I care all that much for that matter. These gripes aside, “CGS” is still a geeky good time. Director Jason Griscom and Steven Grainger clearly have a healthy obsession with movies and infuse their film with endless references to their faves, including “The Evil Dead”, “Night of the Living Dead”, and “Dead Alive”. They deserve props too for choosing to shoot in beautifully grainy, 16 mm black and white, which has the effect of making sub-par effects seem so… verite. As the main character, Grainger displays all the endearingly moronic charm of a Bruce Campbell at his smirking B-movie best. He may not be quite ready for prime time, but he’s got chops and enthusiasm to spare. Finally, special mention goes to the band members of Antiseen who steal every scene they’re in and nearly the movie too with their brilliantly daft portrayal of rednecked imbeciles. They were acting, weren’t they? Regardless, they’re hilarious and more than deserving of their own spinoff (hint hint).
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