"Taste of Flesh" is another micro budget release on the UK label, Brain Damage Films and, as with most of the fare they put out for £2.99 a disc, it's a fairly poor imitation of some of the genre's classic mainstays --the main models here (as they usually are) being "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" and "The Last House on the Left". The film concerns itself with the dire exploits of two serial killers; the one, a Chef who specialises exclusively in cuisine that utilises human flesh as its main ingredient; the other, a giant man-child killing machine in a scarecrow mask who does all the grunt work dragging screaming victims down to the Chef's underground cellar lair. Fans of Tobe Hopper's 1974 film will instantly know who these two characters are modelled on! The film's tedious bumbling cops (although we wight say 'the bumbling actors' since the two in question seem barely able to articulate their lines most of the time, yet the director obviously hasn't deemed it necessary to shoot any retakes despite this glaring fact), the inappropriate bad-taste humour and the cynical exploitational tone of '70s Grindhouse cinema are all from "The Last House on the Left", though.
Lest you're thinking this sounds actually quite good, let me reassure you it most definitely is not! Say what you like about the content of this film -- which, as it happens, is exclusively based around a mean-spirited propensity to first leer at, then sneer at, then sexually humiliate a succession of promiscuous teenage girls, before then slowly and graphically torturing each of them to death one-by-one on-screen -- but you still don't expect the unpleasant sensibilities of such underachieving exploitation dreck to be so unutterably mind meltingly boring. But that's what this film is, though: boring. Really, really boring. Honestly, I had to stab myself with two pencils in both eardrums just to stay awake. Well, all right, that's a lie. But I did consider it at one stage. And might I humbly suggest that the moment you begin to find more amusement in concocting outrageously involved forms of self mutilation -- nay, immolation! (Maybe I should have set fire to myself and thrown myself off a cliff as a protest against insulting Shite like this) than you do from watching the egregiously misogynistic activities on-screen, is the moment you might realise that perhaps this film isn't quite as "stimulating" as even this sort of crap is meant to be!
The story is as basic as they come. We're first introduced to the victims (there is never any question that that is all they are). They're knocking back margaritas and discussing all "the cock" they hope to get on their upcoming night out, in a most unladylike manner. Clearly they all deserve to die because of this. Although one of them does express embarrassment at the use of the word "cock", at one stage, so I guess she can be allowed to live, and maybe just loose a few limbs instead ... and be rendered permanently paralysed through having her spinal cord severed, which will probably leave her mentally deranged for the rest of her life, of course. That sounds fair. Now, these young luscious girls are all heading off to an illegal rave at a warehouse, where they will be taking illegal ecstasy. And illegal ecstasy is an illegal drug. ( Again, all this just so you know that that it is perfectly acceptable for us to watch them being tortured later on.) But before they leave, they must naturally strip off for a shower. These girls may well all be sluts who deserve to die painfully and protractedly, but that should offer no reason why we shouldn't first enjoy drooling over them in the shower, and also while they get changed -- so we'll do that for a bit. And because the bumbling cameraman didn't get all that much footage of one of the girls showering, we'll just repeat exactly the same footage twice! Nice one!
While the girls head off to their inevitable (and justly deserved) doom, maybe we should add a few more random characters to the mix. Let's see. We need two cops to attempt a half-arsed rescue near the very end of the film, so we'll have them sit in their car outside the abandoned warehouse, where our girls are to be hunted and tortured, for the whole film on an ill-defined stakeout of some kind. We'll make them really stupid and lazy and ignorant to explain why they don't see or hear anything the whole time until right at the end; and to illustrate this we'll force the viewers to watch endless scenes of their mumbling, flavourless dialogue that go on for absolutely fucking ages until you want to die. Then we'll introduce the killers, but we'll just steal them from TCM, so that's sorted. The rest of the film is simplicity itself (thank God we've got all the complicated stuff out of the way now). The girls will wander about in the dark in the abandoned warehouse, wondering where the rave is (we don't need to explain why they thought there was a rave in the first place and why hardly anyone else apart from two geeky boys -- who get turned away by Chef -- show up for it. Who cares about stuff like that?). One by one they will get stabbed in the back by the big scarecrow man, paralysing them; they will be strapped to Chef's table downstairs where he will 'do things' to them'' while cracking rubbish jokes. Sometimes he will rip out their bellybutton piercings or maybe their fingernails, sometimes he will just hack off limbs and slice throats. In any case, after they've been sufficiently terrorised they will be dispatched and turned into a tasty meal for scarecrow man. In the unlikely event that some people will begin to tire of this repetitive formula after seventy minutes or so, we'll add a scene where scarecrow man straps one of the girls to a dentist's chair and examines her pubic hair. Job done!
There is one problem that maybe we should have considered before setting a low budget film in a pitch dark warehouse in the middle of the night, and that is, of course, that the viewer will be unable to actually see that much of what goes on for most of the length of the film. Neither will he/she be able to hear that much of what goes on because of our very cheap recording equipment. But it doesn't matter too much anyway because the DVD transfer will be such a blurry, washed-out, non-anamorphic basic job that you might as well be watching someone getting Happy Slapped on your mobile phone.