To address the bitch-ass elephant in the room: yes, this movie is called Bitch Ass. It’s a title that’s likely to cause some conflicted feelings because it comes off as juvenile and borderline offensive, but on the other hand, it serves its purpose by grabbing your attention and wedging itself inside your brain. The “bitch ass” in question is a man named Cecil who was tagged by high school bullies with the nickname Bitch Ass as a teen in the early ‘80s. The movie is set years later, in 1999, when a vengeful B.A. (Tunde Laleye) becomes “the first black serial killer to ever don a mask.” At least, that’s according to Titus Darq (Tony Todd, in a short but giddily eccentric cameo), a horror host in the Cryptkeeper mold who introduces the story. Presumably, this is supposed to mean that B.A. is the first black masked killer in a slasher film, a distinction that *NERD VOICE* is dubious even if you accept the premise that this movie came out in 1999, given that Embalmer was made three years before that, in 1996.*END NERD VOICE* *EXHALE* *BASK IN INFLATED SENSE OF SELF-WORTH*
I’m probably not alone when I say that Bitch Ass’s title lowered my expectations, and its ‘hood setting and gang-centric content triggered memories of the dregs of early ‘00s “urban horror” like Zombiez and Bloodz vs. Wolvez, which I’ve long hoped were only fever dreams from an ill-advised Martin Lawrence workout routine. But sometimes, lowered expectations can be useful; Bitch Ass, it turns out, was a pleasant surprise. It’s no classic, but it’s leaps and bounds above the “Z”-grade black horror out there—thanks largely to a strong cast and a hint of whimsy that lends enough good will for us to overlook its shortcomings.
Writer/director Bill Posley has written for comedic TV series like The Neighborhood (presumably where he connected with actor Sheaun McKinney, who plays the main non-B.A. villain in Bitch Ass), Cobra Kai, Kenan and Welcome to Flatch, so the dialogue has some polish, even if the story itself is by-the-numbers slasher stuff: bullied kid raised by an abusive grandparent grows up to become a psycho killer who takes revenge on his bullies (and anyone associated with them—in this case, teen gang initiates who are tasked with robbing B.A.’s childhood home). The end result is a mix of Saw and See No Evil that suffers from glaring budgetary constraints but delivers an appreciable level of sportive energy, with liberal use of split screens to create an almost comic book aesthetic.
Given Posley’s background, it’s a bit surprising that the film isn’t more of a horror-comedy. There are a few moments of levity that reveal the cast’s ample comedic chops, so it’s a shame that they don’t get to flex them even more. That said, there’s still a general lightheartedness to the script, embodied by the framing of it as a movie within a movie and by the quite literal playfulness of B.A. being a board game stan who forces his victims to play deadly versions of popular games (Operation, Connect Four, Battleship, Jenga…what, no Spades?!), with each match introduced by a “versus” title card. The gore is modest and the effects are dirt cheap, but the board game theme lends a smidge of originality to an otherwise predictable tale.
B.A. himself represents a solid “stab” at crafting a horror icon. He’s got a striking look: a burly black man with dreads, clad in suit and tie with a small mask partially covering his face, Phantom of the Opera style. He enjoys games and a sense of justice like Jigsaw, and he’s kind of a momma’s boy like Jason. By pitting him against his childhood bullies, he’s thrust into something of an antihero role—a killer with a heart of gold—although the nobility of his cause meets its match with the nobility of hero Q (Teon Kelley), a gang member and aspiring college student with an even bigger heart of gold—or more accurately, without a string of bodies to his name.
All in all, Bitch Ass is passable slasher fare, but it needs an influx of humor, innovation and money to be a real “game” changer.
