Sometimes, life gives you not-so-subtle hints about an experience you are about to embark on that can range from dark storm clouds literally forming on the horizon to a strong gut reaction to a red flag that has suddenly popped up in the middle of a conversation. So imagine my reaction when looking for a watchable copy of Deathstalker and the Warriors From Hell on YouTube (what, I’m not made of money), the only version I could find was the one the featured the merciless jibes of the Mystery Science Theatre 3000 crowd – the Mike J. Nelson era, in case you were wondering.
For those unfamiliar with the cult that is MST3K, they are a group that mercilessly take bad movies apart as they watch it and it only cemented the certainty that this third outing from the Deathstalker franchise was probably going to be as enjoyable as pouring vinegar on an anal fissure. However, considering the first Deathstalker was oddly reliant on sexual assault and the second was a surprisingly clued-in, self referential comedy, it’s not like I needed a warning from the universe. Still, a trip to Deathstalker’a world is always fraught with danger – usually with boredom being the biggest threat…
We rejoin Deathstalker having moved on from his Rick Hill and John Terlesky phases, and now find him settling uncomfortably in his John Allen Nelson era as the titular scoundrel continues to alternate by being a wench-bedding thief and a hero of legend – but continues to noticably stalk any death… However, it seems that death could be stalking him as he lounges around a local, renaissance fair – sorry, no, my mistake – peasant village with his old wizard buddy, Nicias, whom we’ve literally never heard of before. During the reveries, the extraordinarily hirsute mage is approached by a hooded figure who is revealed to be princess Carissa, who has brought along a magical stone to see if Nicias has the other part and if the two are united, it will reveal the magical city of Arandor…. or something.
However, the party is declared well and truly over when the soldiers of the evil sorcerer, Troxartes, arrive and start overturning the joint looking for the stone. While Nicias teleports away (bizarrely leaving his smoldering shoes behind) Deathstalker rescues Carissa only for her to be killed later – which must have been a relief considering how cringeworthy Deathstalker’s unbearably smug seducing techniques are. Now stuck with the crystal, our hero stumbles upon Carissa’s twin sister, Elizena, who is destined to wed Troxartes who immediately despises Deathstalker as she’s convinced he was responsible for her sister’s death.
While all this tests the patience of an audience who no-doubt wishes they’d picked up Krull at the video store instead, Troxartes and his impossibly wry mistress plot to get the stone back at all costs, even if it means he has to resurrect the deceased warriors that are hanging ten in his castle’s crypts…
I would hardly refer to low budget filmmaker Jim Wynorski as a legendary auteur, but the man who gave us the likes of Chopping Mall and Sorority House Massacre II comes off like Peter fucking Jackson when you compare his Deathstalker II against Alfonso Corona’s dizzyingly dull third installment. Say what you will about Wynorski, but at least he fully accepted he was making a piece of shit and subsequently added a ton of self referential humour to the thing to keep matters light and fun – Corona barely gives us basic necessities like a plot or a likable hero to work with. Thus, despite its typically kickass poster (all Deathstalker posters are an exercise of fraudulent 80s excellence the tricked endless marks into countless rentals), were treated to a crushingly boring endurance test as Deathstalker swaggers from one scene to the next as you pray that his latest attempt to woo random women don’t make you throw up in your mouth.
The story is the usual macguffin hunt, but Corona never actually bothers to explain any details in a way that’s clear. There’s some shit about some crystal’s, a wizard and a magical city full of riches, but its tough to concentrate on any of the mere crumbs of plot the movie sprinkles on the ground when you have the distracting sight of Thom Christopher’s luxuriously dressed sorcerer mincing about the place.
Lest we forget, Thom Christopher was probably most famous for portraying the stern bird person, Hawk, from the second season of Buck Rogers, but he’d popped up in other, threadbare Roger Corman productions too such as Wizards Of The Lost Kingdom and Space Raiders too. However, nothing will prepare you for his performance in this as he strides around the place, dressed like Liza Minelli during her diva years and BELLOWING OUT…. HIS LINES WHILE… PUTTING UNNECESSARY…. PAUSES INTO… HIS DIALOGUE! Simply put, he has to be seen to be believed and the more he does, the more baffling his choices become – just why is he wearing women’s clothes from the 20s? Did no one think to give him notes about his line readings? What was Troxartes’ plan again?
In comparison, John Nelson Allen’s douchey hero simply can’t compare and you can feel the actor just begging for the part of his career that saw him have a regular role on Baywatch to finally begin. Still, it’s not all his fault, not in a film that couldn’t be bothered to even add in clashing sound effects during the bafflingly clumsy swordfights (did they just shoot the rehearsals and move on?) only to have the deadly steel collide with audibly plastic thumps.
The highly touted “Warriors From Hell” are unsurprisingly not much cop either as the resurrected fighters aren’t so much a clutch of hulking, supernatural ghost/zombie warriors as they are a gaggle of filthy-faced homeless people who prove to be as formidable as a dog’s squeaky toy. Mostly grumbling about being dead with what appears to be ectoplasm on their face (or at least I hope it’s ectoplasm), if this is the best Hell has to offer, the bible has horribly oversold it.
Probably the most damning aspect of Deathstalker and the Warriors From Hell is that despite all the truly worrying sexual politics that went on in the first movie, it’s still a far more entertaining watch than this one ever could hope to be. In fact, it’s so bland, it’s the cinematic equivalent of eating cold, burnt toast with nothing on it after a run in the summer heat and having nothing to wash it down with, leaving you to choke and gag on its cardboardy texture.
Aside from its villain’s eclectic taste in women’s wear, maybe Deathstalker could choose to stalk death a little more diligently and hopefully die in the process.
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