When it comes to reviewing films with titles like MONSTURD, lesser critics would give in to the temptation to call it a "stinker", wonder how the filmmakers "squeezed out" such a "gasser", or talk about whether or not they were "bowled over" by it. But I like to think that things like that are beneath me.

Get it? "Beneath me"? Ka-ching!

To add a layer of believability to the tale, it's related by a little girl (Hannah Stangel) to her father at bedtime in a wrap-around sequence. When convicted serial killer Jack Schmidt (Brad Dosland) escapes from Butte County prison, FBI Agent Hannigan (Beth West), who arrested the man years before, goes out to capture him again. Teaming up with local lawman Sheriff Duncan (Paul Weiner), they track Schmidt into the town's surprisingly extensive sewer system, where the felon is shot and consumed by toxic chemicals dumped there by mad scientist Dr. Stern (Dan Burr). With his crime now the main exhibit in a police investigation, Stern sneaks into the sewage treatment plant to release the evidence back into the sewers. Soon after, people begin disappearing around town, with clues pointing to a return of Schmidt.

Duncan and Hannigan investigate, but fail to shake loose a stool pigeon or clue pointing to a believable solution. They finally have to accept the impossible: Schmidt has been reborn as a crap monster! Despite the evidence they've collected, the town council doesn't believe their story, and refuses to shut down the upcoming chili festival. To head off catastrophe, the lawmen launch a plan to flush out the fecal golem and wipe it out once and for all. (No one thinks up the obvious solution: chasing the creature into a big fan.)

I occasionally receive screeners from filmmakers that recommend I get drunk before watching their movie. If I ever put together a Drunk Viewing DVD List, MONSTURD will surely be on it. I failed to medicate before my screening, and so only garnered a few solid laughs out of it, but I can see how watching it with a few friends and a few dozen beers would make it a party. It has that whole ATTACK OF THE KILLER TOMATOES thing going on. As a touchstone, Super-8 auteur Mark Pirro (CURSE OF THE QUEERWOLF) has a small part, and also contributes some title f/x. It's competently shot, with some nicely composed images and interesting locations. The gore f/x and man-in-suit monster are equal to or above the standards of most low budget horror comedies.

It's tough to criticize a film that's already an ode to toilet humor, but MONSTURD's main flaw is in its performances by a cast of non-acting actors. The leads do a surprisingly good job, with Weiner and West taking a refreshing turn with the required romance subplot. Usually, romance seems to be forced into horror thrillers, but exceptions to this rule (such as MONSTER THAT CHALLENGE THE WORLD) really stand out. The grieving widowed sheriff and lonely FBI Agent, under pressure due to their monster hunt, can only muster a cautious flirtation while pounding down tequila, but it's kind of sweet. But too many of the bit players fail to sell the material, causing a lot of doo-doo jokes to fall flat.

After a modest release on the Dead Alive label in the Spring of 2003, Elite scooped up the rights to MONSTURD for this more attractive package (an anonymous model replaces the dungaloid on the cover). The writer/directors and a couple of the stars gather for a commentrak, and apparently MONSTURD is on their Drunk Viewing DVD List, as everyone begins to talk over everybody else more and more throughout, and the sound of clinking beer bottles is in evidence. As happens with many films of this type, they love their film more than anyone else, and are also more critical of it than anyone is likely to be. Twenty-four minutes of behind-the-scenes footage further explains how the turd fiend was created, and how many of the most disgusting shots were achieved. "Good thing I took a shower this morning," observes actor Brad Dosland as he wades into a pit of filth. However, though a nod is made to SOUTH PARK's Mr. Hanky at one point in the film, no one ever mentions Kevin Smith's DOGMA, which had the advantage of Salma Hayek pole dancing in lingerie in the same sequence with its crap monster. (Nice juxtaposition, Kevin.)