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Skinopsis

Opening with our tormented teen hero's mom tits-out cowgirling some random bald dude for her demented hubby's amusement and going on to feature crazy visuals, full-frontal nudity from Krista Grotte, gruesomely disgusting blood splatter, drills into heads and devious scientific conspiracies, Brainjacked is one of the most balls-out cult horror flicks to come out in a while.

Thw only gripe we had with this awesome demented sci-fi horror flick is that deliriously sexy blonde heroine Somali Rose never showed us what was behind her flowing white outfit. Even so, we're definitely gonna be dropping more than a wankload thinking about this pretty, extremely magnetic girl-next door type as soon we can get some alone time and some lube. Damn you director Andrew allan for introducing the world to this inpeccable beauty and not coercing her out of her clothes. But other than that dude, we ain't mad at you. After all, your movie fucking rules.

The story follows this white dude named Tristan (Chris Jackson) who has terrible headaches and a fucked-up as all fuck homelife. His mom's, like, a raging slut (note that tits out fuck show she puts on at the film's beginning) and his stepdad is a real dick. Dickhead stepdad throws Tristan out and he ends up on a park bench where he meets the incredibly beautiful Laney (Somali Rose) who takes her back to her crib... which is actually a weird, seemingly idyllic pad filled with lots more people who, like Laney, have drill marks on their heads. There he meets the doctor who runs the show (Rod Grant) and ends up signing up for the good doctor's therapeutic regimen of getting his head drilled open. Of course, the good doc's secretly evil (if that was a spoiler for you, then you've never seen a dystopian sci-fi horror before) and planning on using his drilling to implant mind control chips in unsuspecting runaways and anyone else he can get his hands on. Rather than just bolt and get the fuck out of town, Tristan tries to bring Laney with him and shut down the place. Lots more blood splatter, a bunch of chase scenes and a lot of violence ensue.

Stylistic as fuck and not as cheap looking as you'd expect, director Andrew Allan creates an almost Lynch-meets-Tsukamoto vibe with a few dashes of Hennenlotter for good gratuitous measure. With all the splatter, crazy visual palette and hot nudity, Allan's basically created the perfect cult horror stew sure to satisfy all our demented cravings. Eat it up motherfuckers.

-- Rick Stanko