In other words...a must see! Five minutes into this epic genre masterpiece you'll forget that wannabe horror films like PSYCHO and THE EXORCIST even exist. SHRIEK truly is the one.

Four college students are invited by a professor to go to a secluded island to investigate reports of a killer Yeti/Abominable Snowman. But First they attend a happenin' 70s party complete with groovy music, fashions and that legendary disco instrumental "Popcorn," which sounds like a bunch of kernels popping. A guy walking in accidentally bumps his head on a low-hanging ceiling light! Another professor from the college warns the four students not to go, but his wife nags him and wants to leave. When the couple return home he cuts her neck open with an electric carving knife!! He jumps into the bathtub fully clothed and cracks open a beer, when his still-alive wife crawls in the room, throws in a toaster that isn't even plugged in and electrocutes him!

The four students decide to go anyway and are attacked and killed by an awful white creature that looks more like THE SHAGGY DOG than a Yeti. The filmmakers decided it would be best to blur out of the face of the monster so we never even get a good look at it. But wait! There's more! The monster is actually (surprise!) a guy dressed up, and the island is home to a cannibal clan who want the students as dinner. Wow!

Full of hilariously awful acting, dialogue, FX and editing, this effort from the untoppable husband and wife team of Michael and Roberta Findlay is a laugh riot that deserves a cult following. It belongs with PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE at the top of the so-bad-it's-good genre. More people should see it. For fans of this stuff, it's a classic.

(Quality) Score: 1 out of 10 (And I mean that in a good way!)

In between porno projects, the Findlays found time to dabble in horror like the infamous 1976 release Snuff and their Yeti movie Shriek Of The Mutilated, with Michaeldirecting and editing and Roberta on camera duties. Yet even their non-sexploitation films have a very similar feel - they merely play like porn films without the porn. So prepare yourselves for a frustrating experience - bad library music, bad sets stacked with bad furniture, filled with bad actors with bad haircuts and worse comb-overs yelling the most pointless exposition and wretched dialogue that at best can be described as "florid". I repeat: BAD. And that doesn't begin to describe the joy of how appallingly wonderful the film is.

Shriek... begins with a group of college kids at a party preparing for a field trip set up by their obsessed professor Dr Prell to bag a real-life sasquatch. Amidst the general boogying to that hideous 70s song "Popcorn" and popping corn, an ex-teacher and now janitor grabs a bottle of vodka and goes nuts relating the story of how his last group of students were torn to pieces by an unspeakable abomination. "They said no more field trips!" he spits out, before going home and carving up his girlfriend with an electric knife. Why? She dropped his second bottle of vodka. Nuts, I tells ya.

Undeterred, the kids press on, and wind up at the country estate of Prell's associate Dr Werner, an odd duck in a turtleneck whose interest in Native American folklore extends to employing a Red Indian hatchet manservant named Laughing Crow. Not that Laughing Boy ever cracks a smile, particularly when the kids start getting picked off one by one by what appears to be a car seat cover with plastic Dracula fangs or the first screen appearance of Chewbacca, take your pick. Which thrills Dr Prell no end, as it proves the Yeti exists, and he uses the classmates' bodies as bait, much to the horror of young Karen who screams her disapproval to anyone within earshot: "You're a madman!" and a thousand variations on that theme.

Of course, something more sinister is at work, and the revelation upon revelation in the final ten minutes add up to one of the nuttiest endings I can remember from ANY horror movie, Seventies or otherwise. And that's really saying something. To get to that moment, however, you have to endure some of the most excruciating brow acting from the doctors, two unmitigated hams who are convinced the angle of the eyebrow is in direct correlation to each scene's level of intrigue. Be glad it's NOT one of the Findlays' porn efforts, or you'd see them raise more than an eyebrow.

To cap an extraordinary career, Michael Findlay's death was like a bad B movie ending: on his way to demonstrate his new 3 D camera, he was decapitated by a helicopter's blades (and don't you wish his 3-D camera was rolling at the time). Such is the karmic nature of the Beast. Then again, if he'd made kids films, he would probably have been torn to pieces by homeless alcoholic Santas. In the overall scheme of things, there should be no forgiveness for films like this one - a porno in a boiler suit, a gore film without a money shot, a bad film but still a GREAT bad film.

Yes, I'm another one of those "Did I see this as a youngster or was I dreaming" types. I saw this on "Shock Theater" with Dr. Creep in the late seventies on Ch. 22 WKEF out of Dayton, Ohio and it scarred me for life. What a bizarre and twisted plot for a movie. The "Popcorn", "White Meat or Dark" and "Death by Toaster" scenes alone should guarentee this piece of Drive-In filler a place in the halls of 70s horror history forever.