© 2001 Creeper Films

Director-writer Christopher Michael (TERROR OF BLOOD GYM) moves into feature-length territory with this indie horror-comedy. Never one to pass up the spotlight, he even stars as Count Lamont Malt Liquela, who's awoken from a century-old sleep when a wino inadvertently pisses on his coffin. Sure, we've all seen plenty of cinema vampires recently, but this BLACULA-style barfly is far from the usual undead, since he "gots to" have his malt liquor -- in particular, Creeper Premium Ale. The Count's problems begin when he seduces a willing young lass, because when he tries to put the bite on her, his fang is so limp that he can't finish the job. For advice, he goes to Count Falstaff, an out-of-the-closet vampire celebrity. Unfortunately, Falstaff's only worry is that Liquela could give modern-day bloodsuckers a bad rep. The story rambles along, but it's an often appealing mess -- full of artificial fangs, equally artificial breasts, far-from-subtle gags, and even a stripper nun. 90 minutes of this nonsense is a bit much, mind you, but it certainly has its moments, such as when our cool ghoul buys off a couple cops with a case of "delectable" malt liquor. There are also some hilarious continuity fuck-ups, such as a model who's wearing either a see-thru top or a bra, depending on the shot. Best of all, Michael's inspired performance is the centerpiece of this off-the-wall homage, and I loved how the guy sleeps in his coffin with a stuffed vampire doll. He even wrangles a couple recognizable actors in (very brief) roles, with Reginald Vel Johnson (hidden under a fright wig) as Reverend Shields, preaching to a gathering of The National Black Vampires Alliance, and Charles Napier as a singing cowboy (performing the tune he did in the original STAR TREK episode, "Return to Eden") in one of Liquela's d.t. nightmares.

LIMP FANGS:
THE ADVENTURES OF COUNT MALT LIQUELA
Reviewed in Draculina

Starring Christopher Michael, Delbert Howtson, Reginald Vel Johnson. Written, produced, and directed by Christopher Michael.

This entry answers that question I had earlier about what Christopher Michael would do in feature length.

I've always felt that submitting your movie for review was a lot like requesting an in class dissection of your term paper. You hope for the best, but grit your teeth for the worst.

That said, let's examine this Benny Hill meets MAD magazine parody of vampire blacksploitation movies. (Michael is black, so it's still PC.) To start with, Mr. Michael is once again shooting on film, and dubbing dialogue later. Unfortunately the quality of the audio, on my copy anyway, was so bad I really couldn't follow the gags all that well.

It starts off well with a black wino (in blackface makeup no less!) who wakes up and whizzes about seven gallons on the ground. The overflow of this recycled rotgut soaks into the ground and eventually into the coffin of Count Malt Liquela. Anybody who's ever cut through the alley of an all night beer store will understand why this wakes the Count from his undead sleep. There is absolutely nothing more vile than Wino Wiz.

From here the flick heads downhill. That's a shame, because it's obvious that Mr. Michael poured his heart into the project. As best as I can tell, it's a series of vampire spoofs, blacksploitation spoofs and black vampire spoofs tied loosely together by the Count's trouble with a limp fang that hangs flaccid in the center of his mouth.

I do see a lot of potential in Mr. Michael's tape. Would I buy it? Honestly, no. Potential does not necessarily mean equal entertainment. This would have undoubtedly been a better tape if it had clear sync sound. I know a lot of pin headed reviewers frown over shooting on video, but I'm not one. You can shoot the goddamned thing on a high school stage, for all I care, so long as you have a good story to tell and tell it well. Just entertain me.

Besides the work and time Mr. Michael invested in this flick, I'm sure a considerable amount went into his stock and lab costs. All to wind up with an inferior product. If you are serious about a possible career in filmmaking, my advice would be to invest in a professional Super 8 camera and some good mics.

LIMP FANGS:
THE ADVENTURES OF COUNT MALT LIQUELA (1996)
Reviewed in Dreadful Pleasures #13

Directed by Christopher Michael

This is probably not what Thomas Alva Edison had in mind when he laid the foundation for cinema. LIMP FANGS is the brainchild of independent filmmaker Chris Michael. He's a Los Angeles-based writer/producer/director/actor of such delirium as HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW? and TERROR OF BLOOD GYM. He's been referred to as "The black Ed Wood." I still can't decide if he is either very ill or a genius. (Probably both).

This horror-comedy is his first feature-length film. Here's the lowdown: Count Malt Liquela (played with vigor by Michael) is awakened from his centuries-old sleep by a shiftless wino who performs moviedom's longest urination scene. The Groovy Ghoulie gets more than he bargained for in Hollywood. Vampires are now mainstream. The good old days of stalking and cornering young virgins are over. When the Count attempts to clamp his molars on today's sexually aggressive women he can't get his fangs hard!

Count Liquela turns to his bloodsucker pal Count Falstaff for guidance. But his manhood problems are giving vampires a bad name so Falstaff decides to eliminate him. Things only get worse for Count Chocula when the National Black Vampires Alliance also gets after his ass.

That's just skimming the surface of what LIMP FANGS involves. Throw in catfights, an undead rock band, blind dates with farting women, fake blood, gallons of malt beverage, unclad flesh and a character called Arnold Schwarzenegro. Portions of the film are narrated by aged rocker Michael Des Barres, and Charles Napier pops up in a dream scene strumming a guitar and singing the same tune he sang in an old STAR TREK episode!

At 100 minutes, LIMP FANGS could use some chopping. But overall it's well made, inventive, and kept me laughing. Try it. You have nothing to lose but your mind.

LIMP FANGS:
THE ADVENTURES OF COUNT MALT LIQUELA (1996)
Reviewed in Dreadful Pleasures #13

Directed by Christopher Michael

Beware the Creeper. Beware Count Malt Liquela, my friend. These two wretched spirits have overtaken the very soul of actor/director/writer Christopher Michael. They have compelled him to render an 8-millimeter extravaganza guaranteed to reduce you, the viewer, into a giggling non-sensical mass of human waste. “LIMP FANGS” is NOT just another pretty Drac spoof. Again and again I find myself popping this tape into my VCR, cue it up to a certain choice bit and let it deliver me to that coveted apex of hilarity we all continually strive to achieve. Okay. So I use “LIMP FANGS” like most guys would utilize a porn film. So what?

Christopher Michael has assembled an ensemble of both “name” and “future-name” actors who are great when they’re good and even better when they stink. Imagine renounced actor Charles Napier singing a silly ghostly cowboy song. Michael Des Barres reciting a lousy and largely unnecessary narration, or Mario Van Peebles doing an unaccredited imitation of Arnold Schwarzenneger. Delbert Howison shines in his one-dimensional portrayal of Count Liquela’s longtime rival and nemesis. Jamie Zozzaro is blonde perfection as the young high-school confidential virgin and Sylvia Bronson - nearly steals the show from the Count himself as Taquita, or Stormy. Plenty of gratuitous cheesecake fills out this low-budget stew. “…FANGS” ‘ plot naturally centers around the trad vampirical search party for red corpuscles. Set against a present-day Transylvania backdrop (that “oddly” resembles Greater Los Angeles…..hmmmmmm) the 100 min. Wonder doffs an hommagial cap to Warhol’s Big Drac Pic but Count Malt Liquela is not QUITE as anemic in appearance. In fact—he’s BLACK. (Yes, Mr. Michaels dares to play the race card with outrageous results!)

Then Michael has the audacity to layer his lonely vamp with subtle inner conflicts and complexities—and a doozy of a drinking problem!!! Try to resist his skulking across a Burbank parking lot, or his bit “boogie-down” dance number at Count Falstaff’s bit shindig, or his infernally rude habit of popping in and out of conversations, or try to resist diabolically astute observations on the whole Goth sub-culture. Plain fact is--- you can’t.

Wally Wharton