Neon Maniacs (1986)
Collectable Trading Card Monsters
Zombos Says: This cult classic is survivable with pizza and alcohol.
We were sitting in Zombos’s study. Outside, the November winds blew the balding tree limbs to and fro. Paul Hollstenwall was visiting and brought along Neon Maniacs. The Hollstenwalls live at 0004 Gravestart Lane, a few minutes’ walk from the mansion. Not far enough, if you ask me. We usually get the League of Reluctant Reviewers to handle his kind of movies, but sometimes he wiggles himself into the mansion, and like an infestation, is hard to eradicate. We usually have to placate him to wiggle him out. But it does take effort and is often exhausting. So, to understate things, it’s always a lively and interesting time when Paul visits us.
And it’s always a dreadful time too. His taste in under and overdone, and quirky, movie-making is boundless, and he always manages to find yet another headscratcher movie that’s worse than the previous one he’s cursed us to watch. I don’t know; maybe it is just me, or maybe there was a Donnie Darko kind of time crimp in the mid-1980s because some pretty weird horror movies came out then. Once you’ve seen Video Dead 1987, Spookies 1986, and this dive bomber, you should be awarded the official Cult Horror Classic (But We Are Not Sure Why) Survivor Award. To be fair, the director had to deal with a four-month shutdown due to financing issues. When the production jolted to life again, changes had to be made with the lesser money allocated, and good, well planned, intentions were shown the door as necessary changes were dealt with.
I poured the coffee and white sambuca, and popped the DVD into the player. Chef Machiavelli had crafted his wonderful pizza diavolo to take the sting out of our ordeal to come. We settled into the cushions as the movie came to life.
When the world is ruled by violence, and the souls of mankind fades, the children’s path shall be darkened by the souls of the neon maniacs,” intones the narrator as the movie starts.
“What does that mean?” asked Zombos.
Paul and I shrugged. Perhaps that art-house blend of words was just too deep for us. “Let’s wait and see if the movie explains it,” I recommended.
“What are those, trading cards?” asked Zombos, leaning closer to the largest smart television commercially available to get a better look. He was weird like that.
“Yeah, cool-looking, aren’t they?” said Paul. “Wouldn’t it be great if they had statistics on the back for each of the neon maniacs, like baseball cards?”
“How do monsters from hell that no one knows about get printed trading cards?” asked Zombos. He stared at Paul and took a big gulp of sambuca. …
Neon Maniacs (1986)
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