MY CALL: Just another super low budget “sexy killer hot chicks luring men to their death” kinda’ bad movie. I watched it purely for the cast and in hopes that the meat pie cannibalism would lead to scenes reminiscent of Blood Diner (1987). Nope. No such satisfaction. MORE MOVIES LIKE Auntie Lee’s Meat Pies: The best match in tone and style (that you were hoping to find when you watched Auntie Lee’s Meat Pies) might be things like Blood Diner (1987), Rabid Grannies (1988), Children of the Night (1991), Bloodsucking Pharaohs in Pittsburgh (1991), The Granny (1995) and Killer Tongue (1995). All of these movies are much better Bad Movie Tuesday candidates.
Director and co-writer Joseph F. Robertson deviates from his career as an adult film director to attempt this horror comedy. Although, truth be told, this feels a lot like an adult film. The dialogue is crass and the line delivery is, well, pretty porny. And when all of Auntie Lee’s (Karen Black; Invaders from Mars, Children of the Night, It’s Alive III, House of 1000 Corpses, Mirror Mirror, Night Angel) nieces sit together in the living with guests, it feels like a brothel… and plays out like one, too. Lee’s scantily-clad nieces are tasked with luring men back to the house so they can harvest their meat for Auntie’s meat pies. The premise sure makes this sound like a raunchy ride. But it’s not so bad. I mean, it’s bad. But not because of graphic sex scenes or overly abundant nudity like some Fred Olen Ray flick.
Not surprisingly, the movie is rather uneventful. The writing is painful, and the acting and general pacing are yet worse. An attractive woman lures a man to Auntie Lee’s and he succumbs to a laughably silly decapitation booby trap. An adult lady (Petra Verkaik; Citizen Toxie: The Toxic Avenger IV) “baby” (not sure what the heck is going on there) bites a chunk out of a guy’s neck (off-camera), one girl lamely and gorelessly gouges a guy’s eyes out, and there’s a meat hook gag that’s on camera way too briefly for me to care. To say that the deaths and gore are phoned-in would be an understatement. This movie feels a lot more like a vehicle for adult film stars (e.g., Pía Reyes, Teri Weigel, Ava Fabian, Kristine Rose) to get a shot at “real” (i.e., non-penetration) acting.
Much to my surprise, the scenes aren’t loaded with nudity. In fact, there’s very little considering what was expected (and the filmography of much of the female cast). But when there is nudity, the scenes are as cheap and out-of-place as they come. I’d even call these scenes bizarre. One girl’s gigantic “theater stage-sized” bedroom has something like a neon Stone Henge in it… yeah, in the bedroom… as if it were a dreamscape or like they stepped into another dimension. Another bedroom has a huge (like, REALLY huge) neon snake altar… again, inside the bedroom… some serious magical interdimensional square footage is going on here. As if all this wasn’t random enough, the women sacrifice a man in a totally dull murder scene in their pool in the name of Lucifer.
My greatest source of entertainment watching this nonsense was the dialogue. Good lord, it is wretched. Most lines feel like lead-ins to sex scenes. The kitchen scenes were also passable even if they never build to anything substantial. But seeing the kitchen counter festooned with severed body parts and bits of blood and meat begs a grin, even if it doesn’t beg forgiveness of the movie’s general shortcomings. Other lost opportunities include the casting. Seeing Pat Morita (The Karate Kid I-III) playing the local sheriff was only entertaining for the first stale scene; and the small derpy groundskeeper role of horror legend Michael Berryman (The Guyver, Deadly Blessing, The Hills Have Eyes) was sadly squandered. They never even play up the cannibalism aspect of the movie.
All in all, while worth a few eyerolling grins, this is not my kind of bad movie. The lame death scenes all fall flat, there’s basically no gore outside of kitchen scenes, and the point of the movie seems to be watching hot girls dressed in hot outfits lure guys to Auntie Lee’s.