For those of you who would prefer to simply check out the Reader’s Digest version of this review, here it is: Staunton Hill sucks.
From the very opening of Staunton Hill, it’s very apparent that director Cameron Romero is following in the footsteps of his famous father, George A. Romero, whom some of you will no doubt remember as the guy that made that Night Of The Living Dead movie. For starters, Cameron has directed an indie horror film. In Pennsylvania, to boot (I think) — just like his pappy did forty years afore him. There’s even a rather forced reference to the elder Romero’s classic flesh-eating zombie film here: but it is a mention that does not fly by without getting at least a single “a-wooga!” from the timeless red alert of vicariousness.
And that was just the beginning.
No, I take that back: it was the end. Unfortunately, Cameron Romero’s Staunton Hill did not come across as much of a film. The story, taking us back to 1969, has five extremely dim-witted youths (Cristen Coppen, David Rountree, Kiko Ellsworth, Christine Carlo, and Paula Rhodes) walking through the rural area of Virginia, on their way to Washington D.C. to march in the rallies for peace and justice. Naturally, the five kids (none of whom look even remotely like they’re in the late ‘60s) get suckered into trekking out to an old pig farm in the woods run by a family of yokels (Kathy Lamkin, Sherry Weston, and B.J. Hendricks) who like butchering their guests up.
Why? Well, if you even glance at the artwork for the film, it’s because “In God’s Name They Prey” (heh, prey — get it?). Apparently, there was a little girl in the family, too (who is only shown via some ethereal operating room footage), but she somehow lost some skin and a foot. As such, the family is looking for skin and feet donors in hopes that they’ll be able to sew up the gaping wounds of the storyline (oh, and fix the girl). But, honestly, there’s nary an explanation as to why the psychotic family of backwoods freaks do so except in the grand “Um, duh!” moment of the movie (aka “the shocking twist ending too extreme for theaters!”) wherein we learn, well — nothing, really.
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