Zbigniew_Krycsiwiki Do we really need a title sequence which lasts for six minutes, forty-nine seconds? Do we really need a bone-gratingly bad metal song played over the aforementioned six minutes, forty-nine seconds-long title sequence? Do we really need to hear a five-minutes-long telephone conversation, while the camera aimlessly roams about the girl's apartment, drifting slowly in and out of focus, as if the cameraman forgot what the hell he was supposed to be filming and why? Do we really need such obnoxious, over-poweringly LOUD noises, buzzes, and hissing on the soundtrack? Buzzing noises which can make dogs start baying two blocks away? And must those ear-shattering noises accompany such ugly female nudity? Do we really need to see this woman repeatedly getting boned by the doll that she bears an uncanny resemblance to? What was the purpose of the still-photographs used during the attack scenes? Was it to conceal the crappy effects? And if the doll keeps returning to the same Thrift Store by itself, why the hell doesn't the Thrift store worker just get rid of the bloody haunted thing? None of these questions, and less, may ever be answered, even by the few people who have the tolerance to endure this putrid example of shot-on-video horror. Not that it matters, but this is basically a one-person story, about the title object terrorising a pug fugly woman in her house. Well, actually it was probably filmed in Chester Novell Turner's house, on Chester Novell Turner's camcorder, written by Chester Novell Turner, directed by Chester Novell Turner, produced by Chester Novell Turner, edited by Chester Novell Turner, scored by Chester Novell Turner, with sound effects by Chester Novell Turner, featuring friends of Chester Novell Turner, and probably distributed by Chester Novell Turner, who handed copies of this to random passersby on the street, and leaving copies of it in local video stores, and perhaps anonymously mailing copies to people he didn't like. It is kind of admirable, really, that this goofball had the commitment to actually see something like this through, and that he could actually persuade his friends to be in, and work on, a film like this, and see it through fruition. But really, it is an awful monstrosity of a so-bad-it's-good movie. Chester Novell Turner's friend David Ichikawa provides what is quite possibly the worst song in the history of recorded music, until that little toilet-bug Damon Fox came along nine years later with "his" Traces of Death. The Simpsons tackled this same basic premise far more effectively (and funnier) eight years later, in the 'Klown Without Pity' segment of Treehouse Of Horrors III. Watch that instead.

Woodyanders WARNING: The following comment doesn't not only contain a spoiler or two, but also content of a frank and explicit nature that shouldn't be read by easily offended folks with no sense of humor. There are bad movies, even worse movies, truly wretched movies -- and then there's this gloriously ghastly no-budget shot-on-crummy-video abomination. Don't get me wrong, I really love this lousy hunk of junk, but let's face it this one on every conceivable technical level is beyond shoddy. The terrible acting, dreadful sound, annoyingly redundant score, eye-wateringly ugly cinematography, ludicrously absurd plot, meandering pace, and especially that amazingly awful theme song ("Ohh ohh baby, you've been bad!") -- all are sublimely stinky. But what definitely makes this baby a genuinely unforgettable viewing experience is the infamously mind-numbing protracted and surrealistic rape scene. The devil doll not just has his wicked wanton way with our devoutly religious and sexually frustrated homely heroine; he also makes the dumpy lady beg for it prior to doing the evil deed. I can't precisely write what she says, but I can state with absolute certainty that one particular word that she doesn't hiss through clenched teeth sure ain't "fudge." I love this movie just for this sequence alone -- and so should all true fans of supremely sick mondo wacko dimestore deviant cinema. Fortunately, this wondrously woeful abortion has been issued on DVD for future generations to watch and relish in all its appalling ineptitude.

karmaDhyana I agree with the poster who said it has to be seen to be believed.I saw this movie in the mid '80s; I rented it from a video store that I worked at, and this was one of a thousand titles my company had just purchased. Because I'm somewhat a horror fan, one look at the box told me I HAD to rent it.This movie is not bad-bad, it's BAD bad-bad! I sat through the majority of the movie with my mouth agape, amazed at how one movie could fit so much crappy acting, poor camera technique, and just plain tackiness into it.If you're a fan of 'le bad cinema', or if you just feel like laughing through a TRULY awful film, put this one at the top of your list.And by the by, had IMDb.com provided a "zero" rating option, I wudda taken it and thanked them for it.

imdb@stranko.com Brilliantly sincerely evil and naive. It could be compared to John Waters work in it's disregard for societal racial, drug and sexual taboos even tho I think they were going more for a PUPPET MASTER vibe. The plot is less convoluted than that of PUPPET MASTER (nice lady goes to open air market, buys cute rasta dummy/puppet, takes it home, puppet raises hell, smokes pot, is mean and gives her oral sex.) This movie is worth seeing - if you can find it. The soundtrack is Phillip Glass minimal and the sex scenes with the puppet are shockingly bad/funny. Beyond so bad it's good, so crinchingly terrible it's wonderful. Laugh your way through scenes never intended to be funny while you groove to the fumbled 2 finger synth sound track.