No, not the ale. The 1988 horror movie. We all know that country folk and city folk don’t mix, and Pumpkinhead is just another example of why not. Lance Hendrickson and his son Billy are doing great with their beloved dog (who does NOT die!). Then some city people come to ride dirt bikes and hang out in a cabin. One mean dude’s been drinking and accidentally mortally wounds Billy with his dirt bike. Lance Hendrickson isn’t taking that shit lying down, so he brings Billy to a witch to have him brought back to life. Cause THAT never backfires. Witch can’t do that, but she can get revenge. She summons the titular Pumpkinhead, and wackiness ensues, just the kind you might imagine when teenagers are hanging out in a rural cabin.

O hai

This was…not one of the best films I’ve seen. The whole thing felt a little lifeless and mediocre. The kids had VERY little in terms of character development, and it wasn’t even particularly fun or rewarding to watch them die. I did like the design for Pumpkinhead—no surprise there, as Stan Winston directed. It resembles the Alien pretty strongly in the way it moves and how it’s all long and spindly. This was sort of how I pictured Rawhead Rex in the Clive Barker tale. I also enjoyed that Pumpkinhead liked picking people up by the head. I leave you with the Pumpkinhead poem, by Ed Justin:

Tickle tickle.

Keep away from Pumpkinhead,

Unless you’re tired of living,

His enemies are mostly dead,

He’s mean and unforgiving,

Laugh at him and you’re undone,

But in some dreadful fashion,

Vengeance, he considers fun,

And plans it with a passion,

Time will not erase or blot,

A plot that he has brewing,

It’s when you think that he’s forgot,

He’ll conjure your undoing,

Bolted doors and windows barred,

Guard dogs prowling in the yard,

Won’t protect you in your bed,

Nothing will, from Pumpkinhead.