The Violent Kind | DVD Review

What do biker gangs, demonic possession, and psychotic rockabilly fans have in common? Not much, unless you happen to be The Butcher Brothers, co-writers/directors of The Violent Kind. Their film somehow incorporates all three in a story arc that defies any semblance of common sense and yet still manages to come together quite coherently in the end, making for a frighteningly entertaining cinematic adventure.

Just-out-of-prison Cody (Cory Knauf, The Hamiltons) is back to hanging out with his pals Q (Bret Roberts, Nightstalker) and Elroy (Nick Tagas, Pig Hunt). The three of them are members of The Crew, a biker gang that seems to get its nose dirty in a bunch of different less-than-lawful endeavors. That’s not the plan on this day, though. After brutally beating a couple of lowlifes during the opening credits, they’re off to a remote clubhouse to celebrate Cody’s mom’s 50th birthday. With the party winding down and only a few guests remaining, Cody’s ex-girlfriend Michelle (B-movie scream queen Tiffany Shepis) shows up covered in blood and asks for help before collapsing. Along with Q’s girlfriend Shade (Taylor Cole, TV’s The Event) and Michelle’s sister Megan (relative newcomer Christina Prousalis), the gang sets out to find Michelle some help and figure out what happened. What may have seemed like an ultraviolent Dazed and Confused quickly takes a left turn after Elroy’s unwise attempt to make out with the unconscious Michelle results in half his face being eaten, and soon enough after that our rockabilly friends show up, setting up what can perhaps best be described as West Side Story crossed with The Exorcist.

You’ve got to hand it to The Butcher Brothers (Mitchell Altieri and Phil Flores, who apparently are neither butchers nor brothers): only they can compile a number of totally off-the-wall ideas into a film with a clear beginning, middle, and end, as long as you’re willing to suspend disbelief for roughly 90 minutes. Their first film, The Hamiltons, was a little less out there, but no less stylish. They’ve certainly got a flair for the grindhouse aesthetic, as The Violent Kind‘s first act recalls many of the numerous 1970s violent biker flicks, at least until the demonic possession comes into play. Speaking of which, Shepis is in all her glory covered in blood and spouting vitriolic hate at anything within earshot as she menacingly scuttles across the ceiling. And we haven’t even discussed the psychotic rockabillies yet. Joe Egender (Hunger), as their ringleader Vernon, channels David Spade by way of Giovanni Ribisi if they were possessed by a manic Charlie Manson. Needless to say, he steals the last third of the movie when they come into the clubhouse looking for Michelle.

As mentioned, they were going for a grindhouse feel with The Violent Kind, so the image isn’t exactly crystal clear, though it does have its charms, and the 5.1 Dolby Digital sound is good, if not noteworthy. Besides a trailer and previews of other Entertainment One releases, the special features on this disc are:

Four Deleted Scenes, totaling five minutes, only one of which might have been better if it were left in the film. In that scene, we see Cody and Michelle in a dreamlike sequence where she thanks him because “you saw me different”.
Lemonade and Dancing: The Making of The Violent Kind is a fast-paced (it’s only 16 minutes!), entertaining video diary by co-producer Don Lewis showing how some of the trickier shots were done, along with some behind-the-scenes tomfoolery with the cast and crew. Tacked on at the end is some footage from the film’s premiere at Sundance and images from various genre festivals.

An official selection at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival, The Violent Kind has divided audiences, and by no means is it a genre-crossing masterpiece, but it’s a solid (if convoluted) horror story featuring strong acting performances all around, not to mention enough blood and violence to satisfy the darkest of hearts. Now if only we could get that darned rockabilly music out of our heads.

Movie rating – 3

Disc Rating – 3