Sherry Steiner Movies

Released theatrically as God Told Me To, this inventive film from "B"-movie auteur Larry Cohen was later re-named Demon after television distributors refused to air it under the original title. The convoluted, tabloid-flavored storyline (predating the kind of stories frequently featured on The X-Files) involves a series of motiveless murders committed by various New York residents: a sniper picks off targets from a water tower; a mild-mannered father murders his entire family; and a cop (Andy Kaufman, of all people) opens fire during a St. Patrick's Day parade. The only consistent pattern to the crimes involves the perpetrators' calm admissions of guilt, explaining, "God told me to." While investigating the murders, devoutly-Catholic police detective Peter Nicholas (Tony Lo Bianco) is increasingly troubled by evidence of a Christ-like figure named Bernard Phillips (Richard Lynch) who appeared to each of the killers and can't seem to shake the feeling that his own fate is inexplicably linked to this mysterious being. As he comes closer to the truth, his worst fears are confirmed -- particularly after a telling conversation with Bernard's tormented mother (Sylvia Sidney), who reveals the horrifying secret of her son's unnatural birth. Cohen has often used the "B"-movie format to address rather lofty concepts, and this is certainly no exception -- tackling no less than the existence of God and the nature of human beliefs -- but clumsy editing and an outrageous FX-heavy finale tend to obscure this film's unique vision. ~ Cavett Binion, Rovi

Billy (James Pickett) is a lonely country boy who lives on a remote farm with his overprotective patriarch. Seems that Billy can't be left alone with other people, especially women. He's convinced that he murders them in blind rages that he can't remember. That's exactly what happens when four pretty girls have engine trouble and stay at the farmhouse; they're each messily dispatched by an unseen killer. Billy is horrified, and his father (Charles Kissinger) chastises him, sending him off to town for supplies while he cleans up the violence. Billy spends a long, soul-searching day trying to come to grips with what he's become, and ends up drowning his sorrows in a nightclub where a terrible psychedelic white soul band plays the same song over and over again. A kindly waitress brings him home after he passes out, and over the course of the next day they fall in love. Her inevitable visit to the farm brings out old hostilities and recriminations from Billy's father, whose drunken belligerence is as threatening as the truth behind Billy's secret. The ridiculous "twist" ending won't come as too big a shock to anyone, but it accompanies enough gory overkill and stomach-turning innuendo to please those who wade through the film's sluggish second act. A weird mood pervades Three on a Meathook, courtesy of Kentucky's maverick exploitationeer William Girdler, who directed and wrote the screenplay. ~ Fred Beldin, Rovi