2/10
A dismally dull & dreary dud
12 May 2006
Warning: Spoilers
Filipino horror films don't come much worse than this unbearably dull, drawn-out stiff which boasts a decent enough plot, but precious little energy in the telling of said story. In short, what we have here is a classic case of cruddy schlock movie-making that crucially lacks the necessary trashy vitality to pass muster as a fun, worthy fright flick. Jock Gaynor, who was also one of the co-producers ("A Taste of Hell" 's John Garwood was another one) and designed the many boring underwater sequences featured herein, listlessly plays a treasure-seeking deep sea diver who discovers a fabled 1850 sunken galleon which contains the corpse of a legendary Moro tribe virgin princess. When Gaynor steals a priceless amulet from the princess' skeletal remains, the skull-faced sea siren (the gorgeous Iraida Arambulo, who's naked throughout the entire film except for a hokey monster mask that covers her cadaverous face) comes back to life and forces Gaynor to kill seven virgins in order to appease the god that the princess was sacrificed to a century earlier.

Despite a goodly serving of both gratuitous nudity and bloody violence, plus the enticing sight of sexy female leads Diane McBain and Kim Ramos walking about in skimpy bikinis, "The Deathhead Virgin" proves to be a static, lifeless, sleep-inducing waste of time thanks to Norman Foster's drab direction (Foster, who started out as an actor prior to becoming a director, had a very uneven career which includes several episodes of Disney's "Davy Crockett" series), Fredy Conde's clunky, grainy cinematography, Ward Gaynor's arid, dead obvious, gab-ridden script, such excessive padding as tacky night club scenes, a horrible comic sequence in which Gaynor and his fellow diver buddy Larry Ward get drunk together on the beach, and a cock fight, the pitiful wasting of the great Vic Diaz in the nothing role of an investigating police chief who tries to piece together the whole fantastic story in a logical manner (Vic does what he can with a thankless part, but even he's let down by lousy dubbing -- some drip with a flat, hollow tenor substitutes for Diaz's wonderfully ripe and oily baritone!), cheesy solarization effects, uniformly indifferent performances from an understandably out of it cast, and Richard La Salle's slushy, overbearing score. So bad that it doesn't even qualify as enjoyable junk, this terribly lame loser of a flick should be avoided at all costs.
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