So you didn't make it to last night's screening of “Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead,” a grindhouse zombie musical about the fast food industry, at the New Beverly Cinema? The film PETA called “A vegetarian-manifesto masterpiece”? Here's a taste of what you missed:
When the Tromahawk Indian burial ground is bulldozed to make way for military-themed fast-food joint, American Chicken Bunker, it triggers a lethal combination of angry Indian spirits and post concentration-coop chickens — ready to punish the perps to the fullest extent of ancient tribal law: via cursed, zombifying fried chicken, of course.
“The chicken,” shouts Humus, the line-cook of ubiquitous Middle-Eastern descent, from beneath her burqa, “has declared jihad on us all!”
Often compared to John Waters' “Pink Flamingos,” minus the poo-eating, or including, depending on your perspective of fast-food. The film's message is clear–ly written on the wall in explosive diarrhea: if you're going to eat animals, make sure they're killed humanely, or else they'll come back from the dead to tear you limb from limb and eat your brains. Also, love conquers all.
And you thought Food, Inc. was scary.