Highly gifted author and illustrator Gris Grimly was approached by Peter Sandorff, the former guitarist of the gothic psychobilly band, the Nekromantix, the latter proposing that the duo create something involving the former’s art as Sandorff while provides the accompanying soundtrack. The original intent was a limited edition horror comic replete with an accompanying 45. Anyone familiar with either parties’ previous efforts would likely attest that such an idea would likely turn out to be interesting, if not inspired. However, Grimly overestimated himself but upping the ante and setting out to make a short film for which Sandorff would sponsor by way of a soundtrack.

What results is a short feature whose high point is the song which plays during the closing credits.

Granted, the wry, invigorating, and untarnished sensibilities of both artists are abound and, to date, have been consummately enjoyable if not rewarding. However, the medium of film seems to be too much for even the combined efforts of Sandorff and Grimly. Instead of a mile-a-minute 1950’s gothic parody set to contemporary standards, Cannibal Flesh Riot becomes bogged down by, put simply, a lack of control and experience.

You have to give the duo credit, they have done their homework. CFR mixes the Silent Era with both the Golden Age of Hollywood and German Expressionism before topping it off with a dollop of Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead series. Yet, for all of the filmmaker’s requisite background in the field and experience in the arts, the test of celluloid ultimately proves to be too much.

Grimly does try to set a precedent by redefining the “ghoul.” Instead of the typical Romerian zombie, we learn that, more exactingly, a ghoul is a necroanthropophagist or, more colloquially, a person who dines on corpses. Thus, opening the feature, Grimly promises a new direction for, not only himself, but his audiences. Sadly, though the impetus for the short work is inviting, what is set upon the table on our arrival is far from the five-course meal we were initially promised.

It is the narrative itself, the groundwork for all tales–be it in a written, auditory, or visual format–which the value of a work is primarily dependent. It is with this that CFR fails. As opposed to an exploration of the dynamics of ghoulism, we are tortured with what the feature should have been titled, “A Meditation Upon Condiments as Seen Through the Lens of Quentin Tarantino.” A large portion of the film is devoted to two ghouls, Stash (David Backhaus) and Hub (Dustin Loreque), purporting the Jules and Vince school of philosophic import upon the topic of garnishes and culinary supplements. However, we are issued a reprieve during an all-too-brief moment when Tarantino’s girth (as opposed to being limited to his style alone) is succinctly channeled as we are issued a wry, yet intriguing, indictment upon marketing’s anthropomorphizing of its products, especially the food industry’s unnerving practice as such.

It is not as if CFR does not have a life of its own. Unlike many rookie outings, Grimly’s work never attempts to tread the safe route of following in someone else’s visual footsteps. In this regard, the feature is alive and well, it merely has nothing to say as the filmmakers have an overabundant amount of fun with props, animation, sound effects, amid–admittedly–the highly inspired line, “I was shittin’ Cthulu.”

Gris Grimly’s Cannibal Flesh Riot, though initially promising, is much like a fourth-grade presentation by a hyperactive child who’s been gulping sodas and chewing on a Pixie Stix for the last hour. It is fun to watch but we take little of substance away after everything is said and done. However, though not steadfast, the creativity involved beckons one to hope that, if the director returns to film, he hones his aesthetic energies for he nonetheless posits vast amounts of potential, if only he could find a dependable crib in which to house his rambunctious, unspoiled artistic flare.

-Egregious Gurnow