By Rob Staeger
The killer in Pitchfork -- a feral young man who has accessorized his dead-animal face mask with pitchfork prongs attached to the stump of one arm -- seems to come out of nowhere. So much so, in fact, that you can be forgiven for suspecting he's an audience member who's entered the film in reverse Purple Rose of Cairo–style and is slaughtering everyone in retaliation for making him watch.

The premise of this aggressively awful movie, before the killings render that premise moot, is that Hunter (Brian Raetz) has recently come out and is returning to his family's farm to talk to his parents. Accompanying him on this delicate mission are his most obnoxious performance-school friends, solipsistic city snobs for whom he's promised to throw a barn dance. It's during the dance that Pitchfork -- let's just call him that -- makes the scene. He's everywhere: stalking a newly pregnant couple in the woods; chasing another woman through a cornfield; hiding in basements and under beds. Somehow, the one-handed maniac manages to wrap a woman in barbed wire in seconds. From there, as she whimpers, he climbs on top of her and simulates raping her mouth. Later, we get a sense of Pitchfork's rancid upbringing; perhaps we're supposed to feel sympathy. Fat chance.
Glenn Douglas Packard Daniel Wilkinson, Brian Raetz, Lindsey Nicole, Ryan Moore, Celina Beach Darryl F. Gariglio, Glenn Douglas Packard Uncork'd Entertainment

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