Much like the Swedes, the Aussies ain't much for horror. They make excellent nail-biting thrillers, some of which court similar themes as the venerable horror film, but when it comes to pouring it straight-up, they do it with a trembling hand. Like the gin-soaked TV comedians of yesteryear, some times a trembling hand is all it takes to make for an entertaining evening. As one particular cemetery caretaker said in 1986, "some folks have a strange idea of a good time."
Relying on the tried and true "rock stars in peril" theme, the movie opens with three travelers driving to Lake Infinity (Lake Eildon) to work on a music video for the glam-rock band Young Rooney (not to be confused with the modern L.A. hipster band "Rooney"). The moderately annoying trio pick up a bubbly hitchhiker who is going to visit her boyfriend who is waiting for her at his campsite in the forest next to the lake. Next thing you know, our hitchhiker has found her camping sweetie covered in blood and is attacked by someone wielding a kuri machete. That's right, if Jason still haunts you, you're not alone!
After all parties converge on the lake, they board the houseboat and set to partying. Says one of the girls to one of the guys "the only thing you are going to get into me is booze!" Yep, that sounds exactly the way I remember my teenage camping trips.
Right away you know this is a rowdy bunch as the director, Evans (movie, TV and videogame veteran Alan Dale), decides to drive right next to his PA slash ambulatory bed warmer, on a two lane road while talking on massive cell phones that look like they were picked up at a military surplus store. Of course no band worth their salt is going to be out done by the director, no sir! Young Rooney, certainly act the first part of their name, with loud, over-the-top "wacky" hi-jinx such as a band member who makes the old "suckerface" on a glass window and later is pulled off the roof and falls into a chair. To show the verbal side of their tomfoolery, we get a quick insert of one side of a conversation: "...those guys are so mono-theistic, if Plato was there then, he would have said exactly what I did: 'the theory of relativity, the theory of forms, the continuum concept, Aldous Huxley is The Partridge Family, pan-dimensional!'" Uhhh... right. Well, you certainly can't accuse the script of being underwritten.

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Those wild and crazy guys! |

The late writer-director-producer Ollie Martin, a TV writer and DJ, whose dreamchild HOUSEBOAT HORROR was, was fired after three days by the executive producer Greg Petherick. TV director Kendal Flanagan was brought on board, so to speak, and apparently he is the one we can thank for delivering the goods in the second half of the movie. Also, the editor went and shot all the second unit work, leading to a rather patchy movie with seemingly random scenes spliced in here and there and a lack of cohesiveness in spite of lots of camera set-ups and a lot of script. Even so, this ends up way too entertaining and well made to even qualify for any "Worst Movie" award. Bad movie? Oh unquestionably, but the Christopher Lewis' and the Wally Koz's of this world have nothing to fear from HOUSEBOAT HORROR.
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