MUERTE INFERNAL (1987)
Directed by Ronald Wertheim aka Roberto Guinar
Shocking Videos DVD-R
Reviewed 08.16.07
Buy It From Shocking Videos!
Review by Joseph A. Ziemba

THE FILM
Secrets. Dirty little secrets. Everyone has them, yet no one talks about them. No one, that is, save for Muerte Infernal.

Yes, Muerte Infernal! The film that uncomfortably announces, "I am not afraid of groping my Mom's boobs and making out with her. I am not afraid of people sitting on beds and talking. And I am most certainly not afraid of a horny midget killer who looks and sounds like a constipated fusion of Rosie O'Donnell and Moe Howard (with clown make-up). By the way, have you seen my Michael Jackson glove?"

If you're taken aback, it's only natural. For that is the feeling of raw honesty, firm audacity, and potent hallucinogens having their way with you; in essence, the stench that is Muerte Infernal. Birthed in Mexico, yet insusceptible to any known form of human culture, Muerte echoes fellow amigo Al Filo Del Terror's proven method of midget-ized success: Visual disruption. Forbidden themes. Drop dead boredom. And then...and then...May Chester N. Turner help us.

Lawrence, a foppish man-child, lives with his busty Mother in a quaint shoppe called "The House Of Dolls". Lawrence also wears black leotards, enacts private puppet shows, cries a lot, and makes out with his Mom. All is well in The House Of Dolls! But then, Larry hears a moaning noise in the basement. What could it be?! A crate is uncovered. Two eyes peep out. Hallelujah. Yermo, The Midget -- HE IS FREE! Yermo talks, grunts, and makes fart noises in front of an audience for three full minutes (everyone leaves). Yermo molests and murders two women, then bangs on a wall. Yermo and Lawrence lie on the floor and cackle while an unrelated sex scene intercuts. Yermo laughs at a girl with a small head. Yermo writhes on a bed. God bless Yermo.

If Muerte Infernal was merely a midget slasher with a lot of talking, we'd still be in good shape. But there's even more. The mouth service is negligible; strangeness triumphs even behind the camera. This film is an inadvertantly artsy mess. Photography suckles on tranquilizers, then swoons about dank rooms with maniacal, tripped-out spasms. The soundtrack bleeds with the throat of Jonathan Richman and the synths of karoke country songs. Moans and growls blanket the film's second half. Inexplicable theatrics (puppet shows, Charlie Chaplin mime) punch in for no apparent reason. As for Yermo's anxiety-ridden temper tantrums? Breathtaking. Simply breathtaking.

Now, for my big secret. Muerte Infernal can easily be classified as unsettling, but I laughed 'til my slippers blew off. Weird -- I don't even feel ashamed.

AUDIO AND VIDEO
Being a DVD-R, Muerte looks like a copy of the VHS that someone made for a friend. That's the beauty of it, as nobody owns this particular VHS. And we're all friends around here, right? The latter part of the film had quite a bit of audio buzz breaking through, but you make do. Please take note that Muerte is presented in Spanish with no English subtitles of any kind. However, the song lyrics are in English. Of course, that only makes it better.

EXTRAS
I called information and said, "Yermo, Mexico". Disconnected. What in the hell?!

FINAL THOUGHTS
Where there's a psychopathic midget's will, there's a way. Muerte Infernal suffers from a bit of the ol' talky-talk, but the psychotic thrills are undeniable. Creepy, disturbing, and obviously hysterical, this film opens up its conscience for our benefit, yet asks for nothing in return. Be a good sport. Humor Mr. Yermo. The effort will not be made in vain.

It's got to be the shirt


He shall be free


Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'


Presenting Mr. Yermo