Review: MOTEL HELL (1980) | Attack of the Drive-In!
Imagine a chicken-fried Sweeney Todd snapping into a Slim Jim.
RATING: 4 critter fritters out of 5
You’ve heard of Hell in a Cell, now get ready for Hell in a Motel.
Hell in a Motel is almost a genre unto itself in horror. From Hitchcock’s Psycho to the John Cusack joint The Room — hotels can be creepy. Even the Eagles though a hotel on a dark, desert highway was maybe not the loveliest place. Who doesn’t love going to bed in a strange place filled with strangers? Night night.
Few cult horror classics really nail that vibe like Motel Hell. Not because it’s particularly creepy. Because it’s paranoid and insane in all the best ways. The cinematic equivalent of a late-night psychedelic doom spiral after questionable takeout.
Kevin Connor’s arguably the Richard Attenborough of cult horror — which is apt. He’s worked with Attenborough as a sound editor several times over. The Englishman brought this particular scuttle of schlock into the world in 1980. From the title and the poster (B-horror “American Gothic”) you might think it’s a gritty, bloody slasher and have a plot (or lack thereof) like most other hotel slashers. The poor, lonesome, unsuspecting travelers shelter in a motel and get rippity-ripped into tiny little bits.
While that’s a semblance of what happens, it’s not the whole story. This is one of Connor’s best — and has his signature, dry, satirical eye pulling the whole thing together. It’s dark, it’s funny, it’s absurd in only the way b-horror can be without ruining the brain stew. We start off with Vincent (played by Roy Calhoun) and his sister Ida (Nancy Parsons) not as travelers — but at a motel that doubles as a sausage shop with a more unhinged slogan than you’d get from anything in Software-as-a-Service (and that’s saying something): “It takes all kinds of critters to make Farmer Vincent’s Fritters.”
You see where this is going.
If it sounds like chicken-fried Sweeney Todd snapping into a Slim Jim, congrats — you ruined the movie for yourself.
This is the kind of humor that runs throughout the film, starting with the first frame — a broken motel sign reading “Motel Hell/o.” This one of the rare horror-comedy films that balances the laughs and slashes so well you almost don’t notice it’s not either a comedy or a horror flick. You also get a weed-addled band, Ivan & the Terribles.
Vince also takes a turn with a chainsaw and a pig head, brrrrr-fu-ing our poor, unsuspecting little sausages victims. Calhoun is both an unexpected choice — he was a Golden Age star, most famous for How to Marry a Millionaire (1953) — and performs brilliantly in a villain role. The man gives it the gas like it’s rare to see in the b-movie circuit at all, let alone with known actors. He carries this popcorn-muncher to great effect, without overshadowing the rest of the cast. Parsons does a stellar turn as his sister-in-crime Ida, too, making for an killer pair of…well, killers.
Bonus points for this gem including an actual drive-in.
I have to agree somewhat with Leonard Maltin’s (very judgey) one-star review on one thing — the problem with the film is that it doesn’t seem to go as hard as it needs to, to be a true black comedy. It’s still a cult classic — and for good reason — but doesn’t quite make it into the pantheon of bloody funny horror.
Still — if you want to get into 80s horror and have a lot of laughs along the way — it’s a sausage fest you won’t want to miss.
Life Lessons From: Motel Hell
Astral projection is the only way to visit Mars.
It’s a good idea to be married before you start smooching. Maybe?
An Astrovan’s natural predator is a steel bear trap.
City folk don’t know what “passed away,” means.
Don’t buy sausages at a remote motel.
Fun Fact Intermission
You might know Kevin Connor from the 2004 TV mini-series (or limited series, as the fancy-pantsy studios are calling them now) Frankenstein. He’s also got two other b-movie gems perfect for the drive-in — Warlords of Atlantis (1979) and The Land that Time Forgot.
If it seems like satire — it is. It’s generally seen as satirizing slasher flicks like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and (of course) Psycho.
It was written and produced by the Jaffe brothers — Robert and Steven-Charles, who’d never worked together on a screenplay. They described the concept as, ”sprung forth full-blown from our demented minds,” which certainly puts a lot into context.
Robert would, along with their dad, Herb, buy the rights to Nightflyers from Game of Thrones author George R.R. Martin. Martin’s credited the film with “saving his career.” Not that it makes him write any faster.
Speaking of writers, Thomas Ligotti would reference the film twice — in his short story "Metaphysica Morum,” and in his only nonfiction work to date, The Conspiracy Against the Human Race.
Want to check it out for yourself? You can pick up your own copy (including on VHS!) here.
Or if you prefer to stream, you can check out where it’s currently streaming on Decider.
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Um...I'm a city guy and I know that "passed away" means "died".