by Jim Ridley
Somewhere I still have the surgeon's mask they handed out at the old Cinema South when I bought my ticket for Basket Case, Frank Henenlotter's sick 1982 cult favorite about a sweet, lonely kid and the companion he keeps hidden from view in a wicker basket. It's the feature 8 and 10 p.m. Friday and Saturday at the Cult Fiction Underground cinema under Logue's Back Raven Emporium on Gallatin Road, and Randy Fox's write-up in the current Scene makes me nostalgic:
While some horror movie auteurs have varied careers full of classics and turkeys, there also exists a league of low-budget, do-it-my-way-or-be-damned directors who may not be prolific, but who still manage to deliver grindhouse gore epics. And so it is with Frank Henenlotter, who has directed only six films in a career lasting 30 years; ah, but what treasures they are. It all started with 1982’s Basket Case, a bargain-basement, blood-soaked dark comedy of un-conjoined brotherly love and multiple stab wounds. The original tagline for the movie, “The tenant in room 7 is very small, very twisted and very mad,” is all you really need to know — and if someone brings a wicker basket into the theater — trust me — don’t ask, “What’s in the basket?”
Check it out, along with all the grisly attractions Logue's has planned for Halloween month.