Halloween brings with it a predilection for death, and soon children across the nation will be donning bloodied prosthetics and wielding plastic toys of butchery, which will not only celebrated, but rewarded – primarily in the form of funsize candies. And what better way to ring this macabre reverie than with the artistic cruelty of the horror film. Enter Murder Party, which as the name might suggest, treats death with light-hearted, or more accurately, open-hearted enjoyment.
Like an axe through a buxom damsel, Murder Party effortlessly cuts into horror film conventions – the lure of the unsuspecting protagonist, the poor decisions, the panicked escape, the death of nearly everyone – but it does so with wit, hilarity, and satire.
Finding a mysterious invitation on the sidewalk, Chris, who normally only knows the companionship of his cat, relishes at the opportunity to attend a real party – even if murder is a prerequisite. Assembling a costume out of cardboard, Chris enters a warehouse to find that the party is hosted by a band of deranged art students who intend to kill them him in the name of art.
Drugs are smoked, tempers clash, a game of truth serum enhanced truth or dare is played, and carnage ensues. Amidst the escalating and inventive gore, Murder Party begins to develop into as much of a critique of art as it is a critique of horror. With 80 minutes of screen time and a very limited budget, Murder Party is a condensed, accomplished, and invigorating dose of splatter comedy.
