THE CORPSE GRINDERS
Not that The Corpse Grinders doesn’t have plenty to offer. It features Nazis, necrophilia, rape, murder, cannibalism, killer cats, a gay cop, and women who can’t get enough sex. If all that weren’t enough, feline superstars Garfield, Sylvester, and Bill the Cat show up for cameos.
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Director Timothy M.P. Lynch told me after the show that the whole idea had started out as a joke and just got out of control. I nodded, secretly wishing it had turned into something truly outrageous. I can laugh against my will, against my politics, against all reason. But the problem with The Corpse Grinders is that it’s just so damn stupid. Not hip-stupid, not stupid-with-a-purpose, not above-it-all-stupid, but just plain old-fashioned stupid.
Katy Liebler plays the story’s unsung heroine, the oversexed Nurse Robinson. She is a bimbo, of course, but an expert bimbo: that is, she is not as dumb as she looks. In fact, it’s she who figures out Landau’s diabolical plot. Much credit has to go to Liebler for whatever shreds of dignity she’s salvaged from this part. It seemed every time I blinked, I opened my eyes to find her straddling Dr. Glass (Dominic Hamilton-Little), a tormented surgeon who accidentally comes across evidence of Landau’s dastardly doings.
Undeniably there were laughs in The Corpse Grinders. I mean, yes, the boys all tittered. But even their laughter diminished as the show wore on. And by the end, I was simply stunned by its sheer worthlessness.
