Cult of Chucky Review

Sometimes a movie, devoid of intelligence and logic, is one of the most entertaining films all year. "Cult of Chucky" is one such flick. Going direct to video allowed the filmmakers to show gallons of blood for sheer sleezy exploitation, and I cheered every moment of it. I don't admire it's beliefs, but it's dedication to its craft is commendable- just be prepared to see in detail how far they take such craft.

Picking up after the events of 2013's "Curse of Chucky," we follow Nica (Fiona Dourif) as she transfers from a mental institution to a "medium security" one- in the world of the "Chucky" movies, that simply means that there are no cameras and is severely understaffed (which makes sense, considering that either of the two would have prevented much of the bloodshed). She, of course, still believes that the titular doll is responsible for the events of its predecessor, to which no one listens, and when the bodies hit the floor, people still don't listen. Stop me if you have heard this plot before. But its brilliance is in its simplicity, or rather, that the story is threadbare so not to get in the way of creative ways people are dispensed. One of my favorites involves the arm of- well, actually, I had better not spoil it for you.

Of course, Dr. Foley (Michael Therriault) thinks that bringing in a "Good Guy" doll, the brand name of the toy in the franchise, would be a good idea during therapy, just in case you were wondering how the doll gets into the hospital (though the film makes bigger leaps in logic, so I'm surprised they even bothered with an explanation here).

To call the characters as thin as paper would be an insult to handy writing equipment, all your usual suspects in a film taking place much inside an insane asylum, but the acting is top-shelf, or at least never boring. Everyone is over the top but convincing, from a murderous mother to a debauched doctor, and the film never flinches from displaying just how nutty these people are. (A nice touch is the blood stain on the mommy's blouse after she breastfeeds- actually, let me just stop myself from actually finishing that sentence. I would need to take a shower if I did.)

Among the small cast includes Tiffany Valentine (Jennifer Tilly), a fan-favorite who tosses another Chucky doll into the mix when she visits Nica. She tells her that she is the legal guardian of Alice, Nica's niece, and that she has died. She says that Alice would have wanted her to have the doll. Devotees know her true motivations.

But wait, there is more! More of what? Why, there is yet another Chucky puppet, this time from Andy (Alex Vincent), reprising his role from the first two movies in the series (as well as a cameo in the last film). But I'm getting too nitpicky about the plot- just know that there is three times the killer-doll-carnage.

How can there be three Chuckies when franchise lore (is there even such a thing?) if the original doll is possessed by the soul of Charles Lee Ray, as explained in the first film? Well you see there is voodoo (how the soul initially found its way into the toy), which eventually gets into Nica's body, allowing her to walk (even though she's born a paraplegic and her legs would be too weak to hold her weight- but I don't know...). Nothing makes sense here, but it is ninety one minutes of sheer insanity, no pun intended. "Cult of Chucky" won't convert those who didn't enjoy the previous six films, but it is amazingly trashy, and wholly entertaining. And I guess that was all I wanted the day I watched this.