Jackson (Gregory Cox) is a disfigured maniac genetically driven to mutilate and kill; misunderstood and feared, he hides his ugly face behind a hockey mask. But Jackson also has a sensitive side to his nature, one that he is finally able to express when he meets blind beauty Shelly (Fiona Evans) during one of his massacres. Unable to see his hideous features, Shelly is drawn to Jackson's existential torment, and the two begin a tender love affair. But for how long can Jackson suppress his urge to kill?
Unmasked Pt 25 veers so wildly between brutal violence, emotional drama, and seemingly humorous moments that the true intent of director Anders Palm is never absolute: is the monster's inner turmoil supposed to be satirical or serious? Are we supposed to be amused or horrified? The plot alludes to the classic monster movies of the Universal era as well as spoofing contemporary slashers, but to what avail? Try as I might, I just couldn't figure it all out; I even considered the possibility of the schizophrenic approach having been devised to reflect the duality of Jackson's personality, but this hypothesis seemed unlikely, crap movie-making being a far more plausible reason.
Eventually, I gave up with the wild conjecture to try and explain the madness I was seeing, and ended up simply enjoying the whole thing for the incredible WTF factor, the gratuitous nudity, the dreadful late 80s London fashion disasters, and the outrageous and inventive gore, of which there is plenty, and most of which is surprisingly well handled. When all else confuses, a lampstand through the skull will always make me smile.
Unmasked Pt 25 veers so wildly between brutal violence, emotional drama, and seemingly humorous moments that the true intent of director Anders Palm is never absolute: is the monster's inner turmoil supposed to be satirical or serious? Are we supposed to be amused or horrified? The plot alludes to the classic monster movies of the Universal era as well as spoofing contemporary slashers, but to what avail? Try as I might, I just couldn't figure it all out; I even considered the possibility of the schizophrenic approach having been devised to reflect the duality of Jackson's personality, but this hypothesis seemed unlikely, crap movie-making being a far more plausible reason.
Eventually, I gave up with the wild conjecture to try and explain the madness I was seeing, and ended up simply enjoying the whole thing for the incredible WTF factor, the gratuitous nudity, the dreadful late 80s London fashion disasters, and the outrageous and inventive gore, of which there is plenty, and most of which is surprisingly well handled. When all else confuses, a lampstand through the skull will always make me smile.