Don’t Go In The Woods (1982) Review

Being the rabid slasher freak I am, I sometimes find myself defending all sorts of movies. I can usually find a far-fetched excuse which will explain why the victim-to-be took a flashlight instead of a gun. But once in a while I’ll come across a movie that cannot be defended. One such title is Don’t Go in the Woods.

You may find yourself tempted to rent this movie because of its eye-catching cover art and the misleading synopsis featured on the back of the box. Ah, to have been a copywriter in the 80s!  A challenging job, for sure…

A dim-witted group of campers (I won’t bother telling you their names as it just does not matter) head off for a weekend of open air and oneness with nature. Little do they know that in this desolate part of the forest, there is a killer in their wake.

A simple enough formula done with such incompetence that it makes The Prey look like pure genius. I’m not actually sure what the filmmakers were shooting for, but I think the thought process was to splash so much of the red stuff that we don’t notice how bad the rest of it is. And yes, though there are several victims, the blood shed is so poorly shot; you spend half the time wondering where the grue is actually coming from. It’s probably of note that the killer, who looks like he just woke up after a Mardi-Gras blowout, can actually throw various small objects with such force it will slash your face to ribbons.

Don’t Go in the Woods is the kind of movie that makes you want to rub the director’s nose in the box and scream “No! Bad Movie! Baaaaad Movie!”

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