Tuesday, April 24, 2012
The Los Angeles Ripper (2011)
I hate LA. Loathe it with the fury of 1,000 suns. If an earthquake broke off that part of Cali and it sunk into the Pacific, I wouldn't give two shits. I was born and raised in San Diego (you can call me a snobbish prick, it's OK) and I hated visiting friends in The City of Filth. It's dirty, disgusting, and it reeks of false hope from the scores of people trying to 'make it big.' And its pretentious as fuck. So LA is the perfect setting for this film, a nasty little ode to grindhouse films.
Grahm is a serial killer and hater of prostitutes or maybe just loose women in general because his victims don't always seem to fit the same exact profile. He looks the part of a creeper, sporting dirty blonde hair, a pornstache, a wife beater and a pair of black leather driving gloves. And he hauls around town in an old van which he uses to first have his way with and then dispose of his victims.
Kristy is new to town, a country gal with hopes and dreams of making it big as a singer. She attends voice coaching classes on the regular and has to withstand some really non-talented types. Some hilarity ensues in one particular scene as the voice coach tries to give pointers on the fine art of death metal guttural growling. But Kristy also has to contend with her new home life as she has a loser for an aunt and a drug addicted whore of a cousin who is about to get her into a whole lot of trouble.
As you can imagine, the paths of our two wildly different people converge when they meet up at a party which Kristy's cousin drags her out to. Kristy is reluctant to party and Grahm point blank asks her to have sex with him after doing a line of coke off of the bar top. Classy.
From this point on the film becomes a little tedious and drawn out as Grahm bounces from victim to victim (the practical gore effects run from the decent to the really amateur) and Kristy attends her singing classes and deals with her nutty relatives. Some really hilarious points in between as Grahm frets about the $50 price tag associated with having anal sex with a prostitute. Later on, he proceeds to tell Kristy's friend (during a chance encounter at the beach) that surfing is nowhere near as hard as his favorite past time: boogie boarding. Actor Randy Tobin really has a great sense of comedic timing and these scenes play to great effect.
But by the time our film concludes and Kristy gets into even more trouble at the hands of her cousin and comes face to face with the monster that is Grahm, it has seriously lost momentum. And sadly, you're just wanting it to end by this point.
The Los Angeles Ripper is OK when it could have been great. Some really funny moments and some decent kills make it worth checking out. But it's not one I'd ever revisit again.
Cortez the Killer