Desktop filmmakers of the 21st century have used their digital-video rigs to make deliberately bad material courting "cult" audiences; witness Llamageddon (2015) or Birdemic 2: The Resurrection (2013). But inept, chintzy-budget genre movies have historically been in generous supply. Why manufacture more of them?
With that in mind, possible cult-fan appreciation awaits Moonchild, an elaborate Blu-ray release of an overlooked quasi-superhero horror-fantasy shot in 1994 on high-end analog video in Kansas City by cheapie director Todd Sheets. As with Tommy Wiseau's now-legendary The Room, it comes to 21st-century eyes unimpaired by post-modern smartypants' irony or deliberate parody. This is the real deal, VHS-epoch DIY backyard cinema at its finest (depending on one's definition of "finest").
In the dystopian future, an evil regime, evidently affiliates of Satan (an apocalyptic Christian POV has run through a number of Sheets productions) conquers America, with an "army" of about a dozen guys or so, in HVAC-ductwork body armor. The deadliest of these supervillains are cyborgs (or "cyborgians"). They covet the miracle-cure blood of Jacob Stryker (Auggi Alvarez, who looks a teensy bit like tragic rocker Michael Hutchence), the subject of a government experiment to create an ultra-soldier by infusing wolf DNA.
Stryker escapes captivity and hides in "the ruins" (usually the same helicopter shots of KC, over and over again), finding a haven with neo-barbarian gangs and masked wrestler types who constitute freedom fighters.
Stryker, when angered Hulk-style, turns into a giant werewolf-man-monster-mutant. Such are the limitations of Sheets' finances, however (the fancy inflatable suit only had a few hours' rental from the costume place, perhaps?), this metamorphosis only happens twice. For those who appreciate vintage bulldada, the second time is worth the wait.
Acting is community-theater grade, the gore so crazy and outlandish as to be cartoon-unrealistic. Missouri sets are silly (at one point spring-peeper tree frogs suddenly overwhelm the soundtrack). Stunts are homemade stuff, yet conceptually fancy enough to make one salute exertions by Sheets' crew - a few Raiders of the Lost Ark-like car-chase/fistfights look especially dangerous. The plotline is largely predictable but still watchable, for the audience element who will sit through most anything, perhaps with a few beers, hoping (in vain) for nudity.
By Todd Sheets standards—Video Librarian has done hours of painful research on this—Moonchild is one of his better works (it is not to be confused with a 1972 supernatural drama called Moonchild, also shot with a small expenditure by filmmaker-author Alan Gadney). This Moonchild rises in the Blu-ray re-issue via the Visual Vengeance label, which has a fresh HD transfer, two (!) separate feature-length audio commentaries from Sheets (one joined by star Alvarez), the "alternate" VHS-release version, deleted scenes, behind-the-scenes interviews and a full soundtrack CD (big on grindcore). There are also printed enclosures, likely to go astray in lending.
An outre choice for fun "cult" movie shelves in public libraries, unless Llamageddon 2: Big Llama Mama or something like that eats up the optional budget.