Blood on the Highway

I wish “Blood on the Highway” were a short, because it took maybe two minutes before I wanted to see its three leads dead. It makes the similar, recent “Stan Helsing” look as sophisticated as Woody Allen.

Those leads are friends Bone (Deva George), Carrie (Robin Gierhart) and Sam (Nate Rubin), en route to a rock concert. You don’t have to wait seven minutes from the start before one of them has tossed dog poop at a parent, and for another to vomit all over the car interior.

The aforementioned barfing incident ruins the map, so the trio accidentally ends up in the town of Fate (nudge, nudge), where zombies reign supreme and run fast. One of them gets bit almost immediately, but his pals still keep him around as he slowly deteriorates.

Billed as a horror comedy, the Dallas-lensed indie film qualifies as neither, unless the definition of each is flip-flopped for Opposite Day. The lazy humor “” what there is “” is roughly 90 percent scatalogical and/or sexual, with such bon mots as “This one’s got some smegma on it” and “Step up and take a bow for your meat curtain call.” If you’re the kind of person who finds the terms “jizz pistol” and “snatch hound” and “faggoty fox” hilarious “” i.e. a seventh grader “” you’re gonna go nuts for it. “”Rod Lott


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