Blood Hook is not up to, or down to, depending on your perspective, Troma standards.
An Illinois family fishing in the north woods, along with some randy teens in “muskie heaven,” are fishing in the backwoods.
But people are being mysteriously killed by a giant hook.
There’s an expert caster, Denny, who shows people how to fish, landing his lure smack dab in the middle of a life preserver ring.
There’s a wacky electronics expert Vietnam vet with an assault rifle, who watches trivia shows and laments at all the idiots down south.
By the call of the loon, victims are progressively killed off and there’s a music pedant who explains the devil’s tri-tones and the intricacies of musical fourths and Bach.
The unspectacular (and varying in size) fishing lure finally makes an appearance an hour in, snagging a bathing cap-wearing bikini beauty.
Nothing to see here. Definitely one that got away from Lloyd Kaufman.
Ted Hughes, the Poet Laureate of New England, said this about fishing: “it short-circuits the need to write.” There’s an excuse for making this review so short.
** (out of 5)