Look, you can’t call a movie I Eat Your Skin and just not include any skin-eating. There was no raw face-gnawing, or even a funny reveal in which someone’s beef jerky was of human origin. In fact, zero epidermis om-nom-nomming of any kind. It’s a cute ’60s attempt (and a failed one) at horror kitsch with some really funky music, but I might sue everyone involved in the production of this movie for refusing to deliver some skin-eating.
Our threadbare plot involves a writer named Tom Harris (William Joyce) and some of his poncy mates crash-landing on an unnamed island, doing some research on voodoo for a book he’s planning to write. Among a gaggle of other people he meets is a science dude, Dr Biladeau (Robert Stanton) who’s trying to invent a youth elixir. Naturally, his experiments don’t quite work out, and instead turn his subjects (which happen to be the island’s presumable unimportant, ethnic natives) into zombies, none of whom do any of the titular skin-eating.
So since the island is now full of crazy natives acting weird and possibly sacrificing dancing bikini chicks, the morons who crash-landed on the island decide that now might be a good time to skedaddle. But ol’ Tom starts falling for the doctor’s daughter, with some pretty shitty timing because she’s then carted off by the zombies (that’s what you get for skinny-dipping).
It’s all a little trashy, and
borderline a bit quite racist; we do get some sexy bikini zombie dancing, sexy zombie kidnapping and a sexy beheading, but other than that, still no skin-eating. It’s how I’d imagine a slightly more risqué Flintstones Hallowe’en special would look like.