This week in Harsh Light of Day, we take a look at one of the last great grindhouse films. No, I'm not talking about Tarantino and that Spy Kids guy. Instead we're examining a little-known film from 1982 called Basket Case.

Basket Case is the heartwarming tale of Dwayne Bradley and his ex-conjoined twin brother Belial, tracking down and brutally slaughtering the doctors responsible for their separation eight years prior. Dwayne carries his deformed brother around (henceforth known as "Halfy", because it sounds more fun that "Belial") in a giant wicker pic-a-nic basket, resulting in both the movie's title and padding the somewhat meager script, as shown below:



Now, I'll be honest with you. I watch (and own) quite a few bad films. I'm not talking bad like say, Glitter (I mean, Jesus, I'm no masochist), but say, more along the lines of no-budget classics like the one we're discussing this week. The reason why I love them so much are exactly the things that work against them to make them "bad" or "crap" or "mind-rotting garbage dumps" to most folks - the lack of Hollywood production values, the sub-par acting, the crappy scripts, the ... shall we say, "inventive" use of scenery and props, etc. I love these things for all the reasons I shouldn't, because it strips away all the unnecessary crap and holds someone's complete and utter failure up for the world to judge - and that takes balls, folks.

Anyway, Basket Case is a prime example of this, and by most accounts, it's pretty bad. In spite of all that's working against it, it transcends mere "B-movie" status and rockets right into the "cult classic" section of your video store. There are a few theories as to why - the campy acting, the bad visual effects, the marvelous tits of Terri Susan Smith - but really, Basket Case earns its cult status simply because the concept is so fucking odd. Former conjoined twins go on a low-budget murder spree? Oh, and did I mention that they communicate by telepathy? As far as B-grade horror comedies go, I think that qualifies as "high-concept", don't you?

Go ahead and stick Basket Case in your Netflix queue. Just like my wife, I promise you'll be disappointed - but in the best possible way.

MisterSatan is writing these fucking things in between playing too much Splinter Cell and collecting unemployment. If you've got a suggestion for him, go ahead and leave a comment in his journal if you're not already on his ignore list.