Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

You know, back when I was nine or ten and watched this movie at my grandma’s house, it seemed like a work of pure genius. Killer tomatoes? Hilarious! That’s really all it took to make me satisfied with the movie; everything beyond the general concept of the movie was just filler.

I guess it takes slightly more to satisfy my adult sensibilities, because man, this movie was really hard to sit through. I’ve definitely watched worse movies, but…yeah. It was painful.

A killer tomato chases down its prey.

A killer tomato chases down its prey.

What’s frustrating about this movie is that it could have been really funny. If they had taken out the annoying slapstick, camp, and self-aware humor (and the songs oh god the songs), changing it from an obvious parody into a straightforward cheap, B-grade horror movie, it would have actually been pretty entertaining. The scenes with the “killer” tomatoes splattering against windshields and people’s faces were great, and if they’d just stuck with that, it could have been good. The audience gets that it’s supposed to be funny; they’re tomatoes. You don’t need to bash people over the head with the novelty oversized comedy hammer, screaming, “It’s funny! See, it’s funny!”

We should have watched the sequel. At least that one has John Astin in it.

Still, the movie prompted some awesome potluck dishes:

My "tomato" cupcakes...

My "tomato" cupcakes...

...and the vastly superior killer tomato cake.

...and the vastly superior killer tomato cake.

4 responses to “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

  1. Sometimes it’s best to remember the classics how they were when you first enjoyed them. Although that Killer Tomato Cake looks delicious, assuming you eat it and not the other way around!

  2. Dearest Erin,
    While it has been many years since I last spied the moving picture in question, and hence I recognize mine own lack of ethos, I must express my shock and befuddlement at your most indubitably spiteful pronouncement. ‘Hark!’ cry I ‘Wast thou in the other room whenst “New York” found itself subtitled to stock footage of San Franciso? Didst thou neglect to play attention whenst a bevy of agents found difficulty at being seated in a room hardly larger than its table?’ Methinks were I not spending the evening wandering around San Francisco, being propositioned by several men and women for an encounter with questionable intent, then I perhaps would have seen such talkie as our quarrel currently concerns, and I would express a most baffling gesture, were I to find such jest no longer struck me as enjoyable.

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