Microwave Massacre

The movie opens with a vaguely sinister shot of a large, state-of-the-art microwave. Given the title, we begin to have our concerns about what exactly this device will be used for, but this is the closest Microwave Massacre will get stylistically to a conventional horror movie. As the opening credits start rolling, we get treated to extremely attentive close-ups of certain parts of a very pneumatic woman's anatomy undulating as she skips along. Now, I am not above enjoying movies for prurient reasons, but I appreciate if they try to maintain some semblance of dignity when delivering these elements. There is no such dignity here. (Michael Bay would blush.) Anyway, this woman finds herself in a construction site with her breasts pushing through a hole in the wall, which attracts the attention of some nearby workers. (In the first few months of the pandemic, British Columbia Centre for Disease Control recommended the use of glory holes as a way to practice relations while mitigating the risk of COVID transmission. My guess is that the hole here would likely not be regulation. But I also live in Ontario where no such guidance was issued as far as I'm aware, although I must note that I didn't pay too much attention as I can think of few things less appealing than hearing our Premier talk about such matters.) However, this hubbub does not attract the attention of our protagonist, who seems preoccupied by his unsatisfactory lunch, a crab prop wedged between two slices of bread ("The little critter just followed me here").

You see, his shrill, harpyish wife likes to experiment with her cooking (she fancies herself herself a "conno-sewer") and subjects him to the results (usually accompanied by horrifically mangled French), much to his dismay. One day he has enough and ends up beating her to death with a saltshaker. Later, after carving her up in order to dispose of the body, in the throes of a late night craving, he grabs something half asleep out of the fridge. Only problem is that it's her hand and now he has a craving for human flesh, which he proceeds to feed by murdering and cooking hookers ("I'm so hungry I could eat a whore") sometimes sharing the results with his coworkers. All of this could be played disturbingly, but the tone here is like a bad sitcom, with most of the proceedings accompanied by the lamest, most obvious wisecracks. A good example, from a conversation with his wife:

And let us not forget his attempted confession to his psychiatrist, who confuses his cannibalism for an interest in oral sex. The humour is so unbelievably lame that it kind of crosses over into being pretty funny. I realize ninety percent of people will find this terrible (and that seems to be the consensus in my little internet circle), but I laughed often. Sometimes a movie breaks through your defenses.

That being said, I do think there's something to the way the movie frames its horror as stale comedy. I'm sure you can cite any number of sitcoms where the loser husband is antagonized by his monstrous spouse. (My primary reference point for this trope is Everybody Loves Raymond, which I consumed in large quantities during my early high school years as it was on syndication but stopped watching after a bad fever when the show's de rigueur shouting matches proved a bit too much for my feeble constitution. Also, I'm not much of a Family Guy fan, but it nailed the show's dynamic pretty nicely in a throwaway gag.) There is something ugly in the centre of these domestic situations, which the movie is aware of. Using the flat, almost cheerful style of these shows to depict a tale of uxoricide and cannibalism, it lays bare the misogyny embedded in that trope.

And the movie ensures that we never really root for the main character by excising any potentially appealing qualities. As played by Jackie Vernon, best known for playing Frosty the Snowman in Frosty the Snowman, this is the most debased, sad sack, unappealing, total loser protagonist I can remember seeing in a movie. One look at this guy and you can feel the stale sweat and body odour wafting through the screen. Also, I don't mean to be insensitive, but he also looks like he might have a heart attack at any given moment, which the movie leans into. It is not a flattering performance in any respect, but just right for the movie. I've seen him compared to Rodney Dangerfield, who was the first choice for the role, but the key differences are that a) Rodney is funny and Jackie Vernon is not and b) Rodney delivers his jokes with a certain level of forcefulness while Jackie Vernon metes them out like air leaving a deflating balloon, as if he's resigned from any real semblance of humanity. There's a void at the centre of this movie, which gives it a power somewhat akin to a lowbrow Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (but, you know, not nearly as potent; I cannot stress enough how wide the gulf in quality between the two films is). Microwave Massacre isn't a terribly witty or energetic affair, and doesn't have the benefit of a charismatic lead, but these shortcomings arguably lend the material a sense of transgression a better made movie might not have.