Alright, settle in, pop that tape in the VCR (you might need to adjust the tracking), and turn down the lights. Tonight on VHS Heaven, we’re diving headfirst into a glorious slice of mid-80s Canuxploitation that mashes together suburban revenge, voodoo curses, heavy metal thunder, and… Batman? Yes, friends, it’s time to face the beautiful disasterpiece that is 1987’s Zombie Nightmare.
This isn't your Romero social commentary zombie flick. Oh no. Found lurking on the dusty lower shelves of the mom-and-pop video store, maybe with slightly sun-bleached cover art promising rock 'n' roll terror, Zombie Nightmare hits differently. It’s the kind of movie you rented on a whim, fueled by pizza and questionable life choices, and ended up watching with a mix of bewilderment and unexpected glee. The premise alone is pure B-movie gold: young baseball hopeful Tony Washington (Jon Mikl Thor) gets brutally run down by some truly generic 80s street toughs. But Tony’s mom isn't just any grieving mother; she’s a voodoo priestess (Manuska Rigaud) who promptly resurrects her boy as an undead, baseball bat-wielding engine of vengeance. Cue the mayhem.
### Heavy Metal Thunder, Undead Blunder
Let’s talk about the pulsing, spandex-clad heart of this movie: Jon Mikl Thor. The Canadian bodybuilder and heavy metal frontman is Tony Washington, both pre- and post-mortem. Pre-death, he’s… well, he’s trying. Post-resurrection, lumbering around in some admittedly low-rent zombie makeup, Thor brings a certain physical presence that works, even if his dramatic range is, shall we say, focused. But where Thor truly shines is on the soundtrack. This film throbs with glorious 80s metal, featuring tracks from Thor himself, alongside legends like Motörhead ("Ace of Spades," naturally), Girlschool, Fist, and Virgin Steele. It's less a score, more a mixtape that happens to have a zombie movie attached, and honestly? It rocks. It gives the whole affair a raw, driving energy that elevates the cheap thrills considerably. Retro Fun Fact: Thor, ever the showman, reportedly performed some of his own stunts, including getting hit by the car – a testament to the kind of physical commitment you just don't see handled the same way today.
### Meanwhile, Back at the Bat-Precinct...
Investigating the increasingly bizarre string of beatdowns are police captain Tom Churchman and his partner. And who plays Captain Churchman? None other than Adam West. Seeing TV's bright knight slumming it in this low-budget horror flick is a trip in itself. West delivers his lines with that familiar, unwavering deadpan, which somehow makes the proceedings even more surreal. Was he in on the joke? Did he just need the paycheck? Retro Fun Fact: Reports suggest West, ever the professional, took the role seriously on set, filming all his scenes rapidly over just two days. Writer/producer John Fasano (who penned this gem alongside David Wellington) actually ended up directing many of the scenes involving West and another future star, Tia Carrere, uncredited, stepping in after initial production difficulties under director Jack Bravman. It speaks volumes about the guerilla filmmaking spirit behind so many of these beloved VHS oddities.
Speaking of Tia Carrere, appearing here as victim-turned-survivor Amy, it’s one of those classic “before they were famous” roles. She brings a bit of grounded energy amidst the chaos, a glimpse of the charisma that would later make her a star in films like Wayne's World (1992). Retro Fun Fact: While Carrere has understandably expressed some embarrassment about Zombie Nightmare in later years, her presence adds another layer of nostalgic fascination for fans digging through cinematic history.
### That Glorious VHS Grit
Now, let's get real about the "zombie" and the "nightmare." The practical effects are pure 1980s low-budget charm. Tony’s zombie look is more “guy with some grey makeup and ripped clothes” than genuinely terrifying, and the violence, mostly involving Tony’s trusty baseball bat meeting skulls, is staged with clunky enthusiasm. But here’s the thing: watching it on a fuzzy CRT, maybe recorded off late-night TV, there was a tactile reality to it. No slick CGI smoothing things over. You felt the limitations, sure, but you also felt the effort. That baseball bat thwack might look silly now, but back then, without the hyper-polished unreality of modern digital effects, it had a certain raw impact. Remember how those blood packs used to just explode? It wasn't elegant, but it felt tangible. The entire film, shot near Montreal for what was reportedly a shoestring budget (around $185,000 CAD), radiates that “making the most of what we’ve got” energy that defined so much of the direct-to-video era.
The Voodoo That They Do
The direction by Jack Bravman (with Fasano's uncredited assists) is functional B-movie stuff. It gets the job done, moving from one revenge set piece to the next without much stylistic flair, but leaning heavily on that killer soundtrack to provide atmosphere. The script tries to weave in the voodoo element, the police procedural, the teen revenge plot, and the metal concert footage (yes, there's concert footage) – it doesn't always mesh, but the sheer audacity is part of the fun. It’s a film blissfully unaware of its own absurdity, playing everything relatively straight, which only enhances the comedic value decades later. Its initial reception was predictably muted, finding its true calling not in theaters but in the hallowed halls of video rental stores and, most famously, as fodder for Mystery Science Theater 3000, cementing its cult status.
Rating: 4/10
Okay, let's be honest. On a technical level, Zombie Nightmare is rough. The acting is uneven, the effects are cheap, and the plot is nonsensical. But the rating reflects its glorious status as a VHS Heaven artifact. It earns points for the killer metal soundtrack, the baffling presence of Adam West, the early glimpse of Tia Carrere, and its sheer, unadulterated 80s B-movie swagger. It’s not “good” cinema, but it’s a fun watch if you’re in the right mood and appreciate the charm of low-budget ambition.
Final Thought: Zombie Nightmare is the cinematic equivalent of finding a crusty but awesome band patch sewn onto a thrift store denim jacket – maybe not high fashion, but undeniably metal and brimming with weird, wonderful history. Fire it up when only headbanging horror cheese will do.