A blend of 11 herbs and spices accounts for the secret recipe for Colonel Sanders’s Kentucky Fried Chicken. Less furtive and more bounteous are the ingredients necessary for the standard Troma production, but Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead is made from a revamped formula that boisterously mixes the obligatory old (breast-jiggling, lesbianism, exploding pus bubbles) with the snarky new (pomo musical numbers, equal-opportunity racism, a reference to Jenna Jameson). Opening with the best trying-to-unfasten-a-bra and zombie-finger-as-buttplug gags in movie history, which are closely followed by the most tasteless fisting scene since William Freidkin’s Cruising, Poultrygeist chronicles what happens when a fried-chicken shack goes up on a Native American burial ground. Because she doth protest too much, Wendy (Kate Graham) is branded a Sappho B. Anthony, and when a Muslim woman named Humus (Rose Ghavami) conveys shock, it’s with the good ole “Oh, Shiite!” A predictably hit-and-miss yukfest, the film calls it a satirical day after naming most characters after fast-food restaurants (Arbie, Carl Jr., Paco Bell), then redundantly coasts on a series of scatological explosions and phallo- and anal-centric invasions. The Romero zombiefest is a major point of reference, but given the plethora of harrumphing reaction shots and cameos by D-listers like Ron Jeremy and the South Park boys, so is Scooby-Doo.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on May 6, 2008