Directed by Charles Band, 2005
Just look at that cover! How could anyone possibly resist such a siren’s seductive call? That cover means business. The Gingerdead Man doesn’t ask to be watched, it sticks a knife to your throat and demands that you watch it. When I first saw the full-page ad in Fangoria a month ago, I knew I had to see this movie. That cover isn’t fuckin’ around. Obviously, the first of many jaw drops comes from the sight of a demonic cookie holding a knife, but then the money shot;
Gary Busey is THE GINGERDEAD MAN
Talk about a stroke of genius. "How can we possibly sell this movie? I know! To the Gary Busey phone!!" Attaching one of the greatest, tortured artists of our time clearly classes this picture up, tenfold. Oh, and worth note about Busey. In the Behind the Scenes featurette on the DVD, he reveals that he felt he brought a certain "aggresitivity" to the role. But how can you possibly make a movie about a gingerbread man (and I will admit I never even noticed it was called Gingerdead until this afternoon when I sent Jeff the picture, and he pointed it out) who kills people, you ask? Surely such a task was beyond the minds of mere mortals, right? Wrong! Writing out everything that happens in this movie is pointless. I started doing it and it’d take me longer to write any reason to this movie than it took to actually watch the thing (which is only 70 minutes long, including the 10 minute credit sequence). All you need to know is that Busey plays a serial killer who gets caught and executed thanks to Sarah, who survived his
brutal wrath. His ashes are sent to his grandmother (who we learn from an audio flashback by a shouting and vengeful Busey) is an "old witch out in Coonstown." This ‘witch’ sends his ashes to Sarah’s bakery, which are then baked into, well, you get the idea. All you need to know is that the Gingerdead Man terrorizes Sarah and the random accumulation of people who show up at her shop. I’m sorry, did I say terrorizes? I meant to say he pops on screen for 45 seconds every 15 miuntes with some kind of weapon in his hand and effortlessly overpowers these puny human beings. He cuts off someone’s finger, covers another girl with whip cream for some genius reason which is entirely beyond my capacity to comprehend, hits people with malets, etc etc. But then he gets a gun. He gets a revolver, to be more specific. Revolvers are called such because they have a revolving chamber that holds, at maximum, 6 bullets. No more than six. Simple. The Gingerdead Man, in one scene alone, fires no less than 16 shots from this very revolver. And you better believe I rewound it and counted how many there were. Well played, Gingerdead Man, well played, indeed. If I see a cover like the one for this piece, I expect to at least see a hilariously bad cookie on a rampage. When your movie is about a demonic cookie and it is only an hour and ten minutes long, hedge your bets by actually putting the cookie in the movie for more than a total of 7 minutes. I clearly didn’t come into this expecting inspired character development. I wanted to see some stupid shit. Show me some stupid shit! "Nah, I think not," says the movie. You can only hide behind the fact that everyone knows your movie is going to be a piece of crap for so long. Eventually you’re supposed to make some kind of effort to prove that it isn’t a piece of crap. I’m going to laugh at it no matter what, at least ensure the laughs are with your shitty movie, not at you for making such a shity movie. How do you mess up Gary Busey as a serial-killer possesed Christmas treat? The punchline is already there. The joke tells itself. All you have to do is go through the motions. Just deliver on that and that alone, and your job is done for you. Sigh. Why do I do this to myself?