The Legend of the Chupacabra (Troma)

Legend of the Chupacabra works on a level of shittiness that is unsurpassed by most other cheesy horror movies. It’s a TROMA movie, so you go into it understanding that the execution is supposed to be horrible, but the Toxic Avenger manages to do this in a fun manner and include some original ideas of its own along the way. This movie should be renamed “The Santa Maria Chupacabra Project” and played along with the whole horror mockumentary idea. Instead, it took itself seriously as a cheesy movie, as if it even had an inkling of that kind of originality. It doesn’t. Nope, nope, nope.

The film’s opening statement should have been succeeded by…

If the plotline was graphed by interest level it would look like one of those printer-alignment bars. But we’re here, so I might as well tell you the story (briefly, because I don’t like thinking about it). In a documentary-like format, we see a group of odd-looking people pursue evidence of the existence of the Chupacabra (en Espanol, it means “one that sucks the blood from goats”).

We are told early on that reports of the creature’s subsistence on goats has been perpetuated by Latin culture. What? Are they trying to say Latinos are superstitious? How dare they! Now make sure you read this article in less than five minutes or La Llorona will come to get you.

I kid the Latinos though, but I will not hold them responsible for this movie (okay, the film was made by a man named Castro, but that means nothing!), and furthermore I won’t blame them for this particular interpretation of the Chupamipito, I mean Chupacabra.

It turns out that the Chupacabra is centuries old, thus impelling our rambunctious band of documentarians to seek it out. What else can I then say about the plot? Well, they find the Chupacabra, many die, and then they kill it. Oh yeah, they do cut it up surgically at the conclusion, which has nothing to do with the plot at all, but this is in the name of science, ‘member?

This priestess warns off the reporters, telling them they’re gonna die, blah, blah, blabbity-blab-blab-gablob! I will say one thing for the Chupamiverga, I mean, again, cabra… if he goes up against those teeth he’s going to be vanquished for sure.

One of the goats stutters amongst the chaos of clapping hooves, “Run you damned fools! She’s going to marinate you!”

Black-butt in bluejeans backed against a bale of hay in a barn. Ah, the alliterations have caused me grandiose hallucinations. I see little Bs in front of me, flying around like bats, buzzing in the ears like gnats. Okay, all right, I’ve even annoyed myself by now, but it’s the movie’s fault, not mine. I’m sending TROMA the bill for my therapy. Let’s move on…

The first sighting of the ohhhhhh-so scary creature that sucks on goats, and look, here comes the Chupacabra too!

I’m telling ya; that marinated chicken (pollo asada) is two bucks a pound at the meat market, but if you take a spanish speaker with you, they might be able to talk down the price.

I’m not kidding you, this guy actually says, “With this I can get a much stronger load.” Don’t be waving that rifle around too much. That blonde is ovulating.

The only good moment in the movie. As you watch the film and your eyes are glazed over and you’re not paying attention to the dialogue and you’re waiting for the Chupacabra to come back and clumsily kill someone, the big butted marine turns around, fist balled, eyes bulged and enigmatically shouts, “Why the cover-up?” And it sort of got me interested for several microseconds. I mean, really, why is there a cover up in this movie? I’m an hour into it and I didn’t even know a cover up existed until this guy emphatically pointed it out (enigmatically and emphatically; my brain must associate E-adverbs with this guy. It must be a cover up of some kind that I’m unaware of).

The movie breaks for an occasional diatribe by a Chupacabra “authority.” For some reason, this guy was the most convincing of the dolts on display. Actually a chupacabra was probably born into existence somewhere just because of this guy’s held fast belief in them. He tells it and we believe him. Besides his uncanny knack for playing sullen, dry, witless Chupacabra scholars, he also undoubtedly looks like the metal drummer who gets kicked out of the band because pumping the double-bass pedals hurts his whittle ankles.

The guy in the baseball cap, standing next to the moose bust, pleads for escape, adding in the most unconvincing and improbable delivery of a line ever: “Besides, I didn’t bring my Chupacabra vaccine!”
Yes, and I wish I would have taken one of those before I watched this movie.

Chupie likes to tan his leather skeletons under the big bright sun, when the air is fresh with the smell of goat and Corona beer.

So, we learn that those who try to follow the trail of the Chupacabra will likely have enormous hinders.

They find their friend Carlos dead on the trail, so one of the very UNsuperstitious Latinas begins a ceremony with an egg. Mmmm, let’s make a Carlos-Omlette!

Chupie is mean. I didn’t know he was capable of crucifying people. In fact, those don’t even look like people; they look like a satyrs. Julius Chupacabra put these poor goats to the cross either for the glory of Rome or some kind of sick sexual toy to get him off. Let’s face it, his name is SUCKGOAT.

The Cabra-Cage, ain’t nothin’ like it! Go into one of these and you won’t really be safe… Chupie will just think that somebody brought him a happy meal.

For some reason, that I couldn’t gather and purposely wouldn’t gather, this chick wanders up as a blind, zonked out zombie. She says a few cryptic things, calls out her friend’s name and then leaves.

Nice tummy. Too bad she’s got the rotting retina thing going on.

Chupie cries out helplessly. “I’m not just a good suck, watch my licking, watch my licking!”

Opps. Mud butt. Either the director likes asses of all kinds, especially the black guys’, or this guy’s ass is so big it fills any screen it appears on. I think that might explain why it has a separate listing in the credits: Stan’s Butt.

The gore in the movie is very TROMAlike, but the cheesy formula was definitely moldy in this case.

Chupie leans over on the operating table. “Is it possible to get a copy of FHM in this muthafucka? This shit is bor-ring!”

I knew it. The Chupacabra has a vagina tongue. I was going to write a thesis on that but my council told me there had already been far too many similar works in that area. Too bad, it would have been good. Chapter One: Having Sex with a Monster Tongue. Now there’s an academic book I could stand to break the highlighter out on.

Towards the end of the film we’re shown some of the Chupacabra’s chemistry, and I’m so, so glad, because you know, personally, I was really hoping the filmmakers wouldn’t leave that end loose. And oh Chupie! I had no idea your molecular workings were so mind-numbingly inextricable. I think I made more intricate molecules with toothpicks and gumdrops in fifth grade for crying out loud.

The only positive thing I took away from this movie was Stan the Man McKinney. He was so bad I felt embarrassed for him. Naturally I’d love to see him in other movies though. Ones without the Chupacabra, preferably.

Jose Castro poses in the Chupacabra outfit on the special features. And you may ask yourself (after the beautiful wife and car part): Why did you even bother going to the special features on such a dimwitted, piece of gnarl-fuck like this?

Well that’s easy to answer. I wanted to know if they listed the meat market where they bought all that delicious looking chicken. That’s all it was, really.

Okay, all right, you got me. I wanted to know if they had an advertisement for one of those Chupacabra tongues. But I wasn’t going to buy one or anything. (Cough.) You’re right, you’re right. Okay, Okay. I bought two of the little suckers. One for upstairs and downstairs. Baa-Baa, I’m guilty.