There are few things more daring in horror than the killer torso. Sure, there are severed hands, which are nice appendages for throttling and the like but the killer torso really has little it can do other than a flying body press favored in 80s wrestling.
Slime City owns its killer torso.
When Alex and girlfriend Lori move to The Big City and a slum apartment they encounter lots of weirdness (she’s meant to be a virginal 22-year old, which beggars belief, as does her age when she seems much older. This is common in 80s horror – running away from psychopaths apparently makes you prematurely age)
Alex is welcomed by an occultist tenant whose hair is Flock of Seagulls-possessed and whose dinner invite includes the less than appetizing “I’ll pick something that won’t spoil”. When Alex takes him up on it, the menu features “Himalayan yogurt”, a green and sometimes blue concoction that is the film’s first and most innocuous introduction to the titular slime. If only it stopped there.
He also charms a dominatrix neighbor who looks like she stepped out of a RATT video, circa 1985 and unceremoniously bashes his best friend’s skull in, who only wanted to move to the city to “bag babes!” (the poor fellow).
Along the way, Alex drips facial mustard goo onto the dinner plate in front of what were to be his future in-laws, wraps his face up like The Invisible Man and fights off a gang of street thugs in a scene as disgusting as it is funny – one of the toughs is familiar with the HG Wells-inspired movie and another comes back for the ghetto blaster.
Poor Lori, who was previously warned by a psychic “Alex is involved with the dead!!” – has to fight him off.
Gruesome, gory and fun.
**** (out of 5)