‘Yeti: A Gay Love Story’ – A Bad Review

The Facts
Distributor: Troma Entertainment
Running Time: 73 minutes
Year of release: 2006
Director: Adam Deyoe & Eric Gosselin
Production Studio: Pratt Ratt Productions

[themify_hr color=”dark-gray” width=”300px” border_width=”1px”]

The Trailer

[themify_hr color=”dark-gray” width=”300px” border_width=”1px”]

Yeti: A Love Story

Right.

I know I can do this.

‘Yeti: A Gay Love Story’ is a micro-budget, dick-swing-a-thon featuring some risible shitheads and a man in a white gorilla costume. The movie ties these elements together within a ‘story’ about homosexual, monster-on-human dogging, that blissfully ends long enough before I question whether or not I should be making love to a different species. (I shouldn’t)

I’m assuming that ‘Yeti: A Love Story’ might also be some kind of commentary on homosexuality and it’s acceptance in modern society, but if it is, it’s lost within random genitalia and swear words, and is therefore buried so fucking far up its own ass that not even a yeti’s laughably enormous penis could find it.

Before watching ‘Yeti: A Confused Sexual Preference’, I spent far too much time mulling over the title, and which one is correct. According to YouTube (and it’s inclusion of the word ‘Gay’ in the title), the Yeti is homosexual. According to everywhere else, the Yeti’s sexuality is open to debate and/or interpretation. But according to the events in the movie itself, the yeti is as gay as it gets, and spends most of its time in love with, and very much within, unsuspecting assholes.

But it would have been more accurate to name the film ‘Yeti: A Bestial Love Story’, given that the orientation of the thing that is sexually assaulting you should only be a concern that comes after the horrifying realisation that you are being violated by a giant snow monster. Case in point – I’ll bet none of those Japanese school-girls ever gave one second of thought as to the gender of the octopus that was molesting them, right? Why would you? Prioritising is an important skill, and is one that the Japanese are famous for. They also have blowjob vending machines.

Wait, what was I doing?

Oh yeah, this.

I had to consult IMDB before I watched this film, as the synopsis sounds exactly like the kind of weird shit I dream about, and I needed to be sure that this thing is indeed real and not some elaborate, poorly funded prank. Or indeed, a previous dream of mine that I now confuse with actual memories (you get those about homosexual monsters as well, right guys?)

But yes, it’s real, and when glancing through IMDB, I noticed an off-putting fact regarding YAGLS.

“Oh for fuck sake, it’s a Troma film” I mumbled to myself, and for those of you who don’t know who Troma are, and what kind of material they usually deal with, you’re about to find out. For those of you who already know, then feel free to mumble “Oh for fuck sake, it’s a Troma film.” But after watching the entire thing from start to finish, I’m left wondering how even Troma, those wacky purveyors of tastelessness, could associate themselves with ‘Yeti: Please Stop, It Hurts’.

Everyone should have an uncrossable line. Even the creators of ‘Tales of the Crapper’.

Due to the DVD of this film costing (no shit) upwards of £60 out in the real world, I was forced to watch it on YouTube, which goes against my creed of only reviewing DVD’s that I physically own, but I was…persuaded…to make an exception this time. Therefore, as the movie began, I was distracted by some rather eclectic YouTube recommendations to the right of the video, which were a whimsical amalgamation of other Troma releases and actual gay love stories. Oh, and something about gay Jesus, which as thrilling a production it must be, I know to leave well alone.

do i have to?

‘Yeti: Can’t We Just Sit And Talk Instead’ has become a cult classic among the creepier, more shifty looking side of Bad Movie fandom, so you might wonder how on earth I found myself reviewing it (as I am neither creepy nor shifty…honest!)

Well, the truth is I was approached by a very shady looking man with a trench-coat, clapperboard, and obvious erection, who whispered “it won’t hurt, it will be gentle” in my ear, and then repeated the name of the movie until I promised to watch it. He seemed jovially dangerous, with his mono-brow and drool, and carried himself with that lop-sided swagger that only the mentally unstable can carry with grace. So I thought it best to fulfill his whims unless he demanded I do things that I would find more challenging than simply watching a film. But of course, this is no ordinary film. This is ‘Yeti: I’ve Never Put It There Before And I’m Worried What People Will Think‘, and knowing what I know now, there was fuck all else he could have subjected me to that could have been even remotely worse.

So yes, this weirdo lied to me.

It did hurt, and it wasn’t gentle.

I really can do this

‘Yeti: A Straightforward Film’ began with some barely audible moaning of the words “Crazy Eddie”, which only made marginally less sense than when I realised the droning was actually “Praise the yeti”, and that this gloomy chant was being spoken by what looked like snow ninjas, or the Norwegian KKK. This colourless band of unpaid extras were chanting this weird mantra in a location that mostly resembled an abandoned back yard in the bible-belt somewhere, and certainly not a place cold enough for it to even snow, never mind attract Yetis.

This of course seems poorly thought out, and I wonder did the producers even know what a yeti was before approaching investors? Well, considering that their entire budget was (no shit) roughly $200, then I guess they were perfectly placed to make up whatever shit they wanted.

As the band of mumbling freaks continue their chanting, ‘Prop’ is introduced…

…as we see a man tied up and being circled by the Yeti druids. Some maniacal laughing takes place, as does some very earnest shrub-wanking noises. Oh, and we also hear drum beats (remember this is a ritual of some sort), except there are no drums anywhere within the scene, obviously. Could the producers stretch their budget as far as a plastic gong and a free sound effects library? Yeah, probably. And was the bulk of their budget spent on stealing ancient relic camcorders from pawn shops? Yes, definitely.

Yeti, etc…

It’s a couple of minutes in to the film and I have heard the word ‘Yeti’ eighteen times, which certainly keeps within the theme of things, but no amount of repetition will convince me that any actual Yetis were consulted before shooting. I certainly hope they weren’t, as this film is essentially ‘Brokeback Mountain’ with mythical creatures instead of Heath Ledger, and it’s widely known that most mythical creatures are to the right of the political spectrum, and surely wouldn’t approve of their kind being portrayed as lustful homosexuals.

Edit: Imagine how big I felt when I found out that Troma themselves also refer to this movie as a retelling of Brokeback Mountain. No I didn’t copy them, and yes, it means I am as clever as anyone that works for Troma, which surely entitles me to some kind of disability benefit.

Christ, where was I?

Yeah. So, eventually the ritual builds in to a crescendo with an unseen something-or-other (spoiler: You know it isn’t fucking Dracula) sprinting from the bushes towards the stricken victim of whatever is going on.

Oh!

I’ve just remembered that I own a movie called ‘Brainsmasher: A Love Story’, starring Teri Hatcher! That movie had fuck all to do with love (psychotic Shaolin Ninjas) and I’m willing to bet my dignity and patience that neither will this. Although, I suppose you could catagorise ninjas as mythical creatures, right? Did they ever exist? Or where they more like Asian Hulk Hogan, who also wasn’t real. True story! He was called Clarence or some shit. And wrestling is fake. But Baywatch was awesome!

Yes okay, fine. I’m putting this off, I know. I did say I could do this, and I meant it.

Bag of assholes

So after the implicitly implied Yeti/pagan rape festival, we are introduced to those annoying fuckers who would never stop acting up during drama class – namely, a car full of horrible to look at, horrible to listen to twenty-something’s, who are heading to New Hampshire on an ill-fated cliché-holiday, and I cannot decide what I hate more, them, or the ‘Rebecca Black’ hip hop they are listening to. Fuck it, it’s both. And if you decide to witness this film for yourself then I advise making plenty of room for that particular emotion.

One of them squeals…

“What road are we on, the 1800’s?”

…which is retarded, but like I said, I’m willing to go the extra mile to accommodate these loathsome bastards. What is more obvious than even the broken editing is the hatred that each of these people have for each other, and how not one of them appears to want to be where they are, which I can connect with.

One of the girls is reminded that they are going camping, which gives her an orgasm (or possibly an acting seizure), and one of the guys, the driver and person who appears to be reviled the most, turns off the radio and says…

“No more music…I’ve got glasses.”

Slow clap. Alright, okay. That actually was kind of funny, but I still hate him.

They stop at a gas station, still bitching and complaining at each other, with one guy in particular being a complete shithead to his friends. I was already thinking about how much I would appreciate seeing this character being murdered horribly or molested in some unnatural way, which is fortuitous given his character arc.

One guy, who (if I was pretending to care) could be the protagonist, hallucinates someone who I think is a prostitute, and I grow in confusion. I’m assuming it’s the early prepubescence of a plot, but whatevs. The asshole of the group offers the driver of the vehicle some beer instead of gas money, which is a dickish and counterproductive thing to offer someone responsible for keeping you alive and not drunkenly veering off the road and wrapping you around a tree. But this behaviour is in keeping with his general assholery, as he now begins calling his friend a faggot.

Delightful.

Then we have Sex Piss.

Yes, this man swaggers out of nowhere and yes, his name is Sex Piss.

Mr Piss prances around the gas station talking like a ten year old Tourette’s champion, and repeating things that he overheard the bigger kids saying…

…and some script happens, as Mr Piss and Dickhead talk shit to each other, until a pathetic excuse for a fight scene occurs.

I did happen to notice a small detail on Sex Piss’ face, but due to the awful resolution of the YouTube video I genuinely couldn’t make out if the dot of whatever-it-is on his chin was a small piercing, or a speck of polystyrene…

…but Sex Piss forced my direction elsewhere by making finger-banging shapes with his hands and propositioning the ladies.

Sex Piss also wants to freebase within the forecourt of a gas station (not advisable), and I grow increasingly convinced that not one ounce of permission was given to film there. As if to emphasize, two of the party wander off and investigate some local advertising.

They head towards 2006’s ‘Crack Den of the Year’ and make their way down some fire-hazard stairs, eventually being greeted by this fucking mess.

I now have a cool looking imprint of a laptop keyboard on my face, and a sharp frown as a permanent reminder of just how retarded films can be. It was whilst I had the movie paused at the above image, and trying to wrap my mind around what the fuck I was looking at, that I noticed that this film is thankfully only 1 hour and 13 minutes long, which at the time was a joyful relief that lasted about one second, as I also noticed that I was only 8 minutes in to it.

Fuck.

So, after paying the entrance fee to the guy in the mask’s creepy basement, the duo are introduced to Tentacle Boy, and everything goes insane.

Yes, you did indeed see that with functional eyeballs and a revolted brain, and yes, Tentacle Boy, who is either a burn victim or a lobster, begins breastfeeding.

Look, I only describe the events okay? I felt just as nauseous as you do.

Apparently, this kind of shit goes down quite often in New Hampshire, which makes me terrified of traveling to the United States just in case I end up like tentacle boy up there. Or worse, as someone who pays money to look at a grown man guzzle milk from an old ladies tits. Oh, and for no reason, someone walks through the shot with his cock and balls out.

God damn it movie.

You may be wondering at this point what the fuck ‘Yeti: A Normal film’ is actually about, as not a whole lot has happened that isn’t either revolting, annoying or confusing. Like I said, it’s about a homosexual Yeti, okay? We’ll get to it.

Let’s go camping!

Once back with the rest of the party, the group head out into the forest. Dickhead berates his girlfriend for using the the word ‘frat’, ensuring to make the following distinction;

“It’s fraternity, not frat. Just like it’s country, not cunt.”

Which although repulsive, is also the most intelligent thing he has said, or ever will say, so gold star for him. Dickhead and his girlfriend retire in to a tent sponsored by the Clinton campaign to have sex…

…with the sound effects resembling a masturbating road-drill. This does hilariously happen in the background of two of the group discussing a dead grandmother, and I (no shit) laugh out-loud. Okay fine, movie. You can be amusing.

One of the party finds himself fleeing through the woods at night (accompanied by some excellent backing music) away from the Yeti, whom according to traditional horror movie rules, we still haven’t properly glimpsed yet. Predictably, it’s time for the first fatality of the film (not including the dignity of the cast members, which was never alive to begin with), as the unfortunate soul is murdered. But I should point out that his death was not due to the Yeti at all, as he seemed quite determined to kill himself whilst running away from it. The final honour goes instead to some random hunter who, also wondering the forest, accidentally shoots him.

The following morning no one really gives that much of a shit that one of their friends is missing, instead deciding to all go fishing. (Insert ‘wacky’ fishing montage.) Things occur, and two of the group come across the hunter from earlier who is on the trail of…you guessed it…the yeti. He regales us with a baffling and mildly awesome back-story in which he was born and raised in the Congo by cannibals, because of course he was.

Oh, and he was a hunter since he was 14 months old, which is impressive enough I suppose. Except he refers to fungus as a plant, which makes me feel big as I know it isn’t. Hunter-man also explains that he was tracking the yeti on mount Everest, but lost him on K2, which are mountains located on completely different parts of the planet, but given that he is now looking for him in New Hampshire, then maybe he’s as lost as I am.

As things progress, I grow increasingly aware that this film vastly overestimates how much I want to look at another man’s penis, as it keeps showing me one. Honestly, I have no respect whatsoever for the thing that is attached to me, never mind having to come to terms with someone else’s. Seriously, stop it film. And please quit with the yeti sex, if you wouldn’t mind.

But all this uncomfortable nonsense got me thinking.

Note to self – don’t think

I understand the term ‘bestiality’, and its legality around these parts, but what is it called when you are raped by an imaginary monster? Is there a legal definition that I can work with, you know, just in case? It’s just I’d rather avoid prosecution should a dragon put something in my drink. I tried looking this up online but I soon realised this was a huge mistake. Enough so that I felt more at ease continuing ‘Yeti: Clear Your Search History’, which should be a statement in and of itself, given how fucking dreadful it is.

As the film continued, I realised I may have gotten too engrossed in researching sex with animals, as I was no longer sure about any of what was happening. The group had made it to a church, which I could comprehend, and a guy dressed as a monk was laying on some heavy shit to one of the girls about being the subject of a prophecy or some-such, which I could not comprehend. I can assume that this guy is indeed a priest though, given how the movie has bestowed upon his desk a large collection of pewter Virgin Mary’s.

Except the priest happens to be wearing grey-face and Raybans so most likely he’s…the executive producer? The directors next door neighbour? An actual priest who didn’t want to be recognised?

But just to avoid any doubt as to this man’s career we are shown a blurry fast-zoom into a crucifix set to church organs.

He asks her to help them defeat the Yeti threat (?), which she agrees to. To prepare her for this task, Priest hands her a gown, a crossbow, a wooden steak (wrong monster), some non-holy water, and a kazoo. Cut to outside, where dramatic shenanigans occur with a man being shot through the chest by the girl and her crossbow. This of course results in the cheapest possible gore effects that the budget could afford (strawberry syrup?) and he writhes around and dies.

Except, wait a second…not only is he not dead, but he is also fit enough to lead the group to another one of the yeti festivals (?). The prostitute-hallucination reappears, and convinces one of the guys to go with her into the forest for some more implied dogging, and again, I’m completely lost. What happens next though is fairly self-explanatory.

When they reach the ritual, the group bear witness to someone who has been captured by the yeti enthusiasts, and is having his trousers pulled down. This is of course in preparation for the yeti himself, who, after being summoned by ‘gong.WAV’, sprints towards the poor guy and forcibly sodomises him. The helpless man screams and is then fucked to death.

And because I’m certain you all want to know what the penis of the Abominable Snowman looks like, here it is…

No, I’m not apologising to you. If I had to watch the thing, and you are reading this, then tough shit. I’m not doing this alone.

Whilst struggling to keep my dinner from reintroducing itself, I must have yet again missed something, as the yeti trundles over to the dickhead guy from earlier, lifts him in its arms, and carries him off in to the woods, which Dickhead is surprisingly chill about.

Huh?

Oh, this is the Love Story bit! And true enough, the two of them venture deep in to the woods, where the Yeti ventures deep in to Dickhead. Again, he seems surprisingly chill about all of this, especially given how much of a homophobe he was earlier. This must be that ‘character development’ thing the cool scriptwriters talk about.

So, after a horrifyingly uncomfortable sex scene involving a man in a cheap yeti costume, and another man up against a tree, the film cuts to the next morning, where prostitute-follower from earlier, and his new girlfriend (who lives with the the yeti-enthusiasts) are having breakfast. Behind them a man is dismembering a corpse, which is bizarre in its own right, but it’s when they kiss each other with mouths full of milky cereal (that they attempt to tongue-swap with each other), that I rub my eyes and pray for a Gaviscon enema.

What. The fuck. Movie? Honestly, what the hell is wrong with you?

everything

After being made to witness what I just saw, this movie could put newborn puppies on screen and I would want them killed. And sure enough, in a concerted effort to make me wish I had never existed, the movie presents me with a fucking pillow fight between the girl with the crossbow and some other wanker, set to piano music, and fuck me have I learned to hate everyone on earth.

The scene seems to go forever, which normally I would just scratch up to being filler, but I can’t shake the feeling that this was genuinely intended, and carefully coordinated, to be as irritating as possible. If so, then the creators of this pile of shit are super-geniuses, and absolute masters of human psychology, as I feel like killing myself to make it stop.

We then have the second montage of the movie, proving that this thing is insane beyond words, as no film in it’s right mind should contain two montages. Well, this film does indeed buck the trend with montage #2, featuring retarded rubbish, including…

…Dickhead teaching his yeti boyfriend how to read…

…exaggerated enjoyment of a picnic…

…spinning…

…and Scrabble.

During a scene in which Dickhead spouts a load of crap about coming out, I noticed something – the poor sod playing the Yeti in this film doesn’t appear to have any teeth.

God damn it movie, which one of the cast or crew’s elderly relatives did you guys emotionally scar to film this magnum opus? Or have we resorted to using the homeless as understudies?

Meanwhile, the crossbow-girl revisits the monk-priest guy, but I have no idea why the director filmed the scene in the presence of a geriatric air conditioner and fifteen tumble dryers, as they obviously couldn’t be bothered with ADR because that would have meant asking for another advance on their pocket-money.

The priest shows her some old film of something-or-other that has something to do with the plot, but they shouldn’t have bothered. I mean seriously, did the scriptwriter actually believe that by now anyone would give two shits about why things are happening ? Or even still be watching? I can absolutely guarantee 1000% that there are only two types of audience that would remain at 50 minutes in to this film. The first, are twelve year olds impatiently waiting for more tits, and people like myself, who regret being born.

I’m still broadly confused about everything, but that doesn’t stop the movie from giving us a sex scene, guest-written by those twelve year olds I mentioned.

Later, the above woman, who is a yeti-priestess or some shit, is told to find the yeti, and is threatened menacingly by the head of the cult should she fail in this task.

“What will happen to you is not good, and the children.”

And that made sense!

Beware the toilet

Meanwhile, the protagonist lady (the one with the crossbow) and her lesbian partner (the one from the tent) have decided to ask the police for help with things, and no, they didn’t film this scene in anything even remotely resembling a police station.

Fed up with the police’s lack of interest in being in this movie, the girls head to the bathroom to watch each other urinate, when shock horror! Sex Piss turns up in the ladies toilets of the same police station and threatens to bang some fingers.

And yes, we all know how much of a complete shitbag Mr Piss can be, but at the very least, we can all agree that he holds the safety and comfort of the women he molests as his top priority, as he comes to the party prepared, as it were.

Yes I know it’s blurry, but that really is a condom on his fingers and a liberal dose of lube half way up his arm, and as you might imagine, the prospect of being forcibly violated in such a manner isn’t high on the ladies agenda.

Thankfully, the girls put up a fight, ending with one of them stabbed to death, and Sex Piss missing most of his internal organs.

Cut to this…

…and yes, Dickhead is pleasuring his yeti lover in the middle of the forest. Are you struggling with this? Because I sure as fuck am.

Meanwhile, the yeti cult leader meets with the priest, and an honestly hilarious scene takes place that I’m certain by now must not have been intentional. I could describe it to you, but take it as the one and only reason to sit and watch ‘Yeti: You Should Be On A Register’. We also see that the cult leader lives in a recording studio (?), but there’s no time to ponder such nonsense as the exciting climax of the movie begins.

let’s finish this

The guy from earlier (do any of these characters have names?) has been lied to by his cult girlfriend, and is now next in line to be Yetied. The gong is struck, and the yeti charges forward. But instead of bumming the guy to smithereens, the yeti breaks his chains, and everyone shows up for a fight scene. Obviously some terrible action music begins, as people flail at each other like drunken break-dancers.

The weirdy shithead with the mask, and Tentacle Boy, show up (as does Sex Piss!?) and everyone tries to kill each other.

Sadly (not really), Tentacle Boy is killed…

…and the wierdo with the mask reveals that he himself has red marker pen all over his face and a second pair of testicles.

It’s highly dramatic (no it isn’t), but things get seriously emotional as the yeti itself is killed by the hunter. Sad face.

As you might expect, this results in his boyfriend taking things sorely. But with the cult members killed, and everything as back to normal as this movie could be, the three remaining friends ponder what it means to be a bigot (?), and Dickhead, when asked about whether or not there will be a sequel, rubs his pregnant belly and smiles.

the end

Holy shit. Where do I even start?

I am not joking when I say that this movie was unexpectedly difficult to watch, for numerous reasons, not least of which is how confusing everything is. Yet asking why things are happening, and why they don’t make sense, is so beside the point that it honestly never crossed my mind when watching it. Picking apart a continuity error for example, seems utterly pointless when the subject matter itself is so balls-out retarded. It’s about a gay yeti, which hardly merits deep analysis.

That said, we have all heard of the so-called ‘micro budget’ movie, however this is the first film to exhibit a correlation between budget and penis size (hint: they are both inadequate), and yes, the movie has far too much swinging dick for my personal sexual orientation, but I can live with that to be honest.

If anything, it does somewhat add a sense of charm to the movie (the lack of budget I mean, not the penises), as it comes across as much more of a labour of love than if otherwise, and although poorly funded, it is by no means a lazy film. Quite the opposite – you can tell that the people that made Yeti had a shit ton of fun creating it, but the movie, as a consequence of being what is essentially a student film, is cheap and amateurish, and broadly incoherent.

But what made for the greatest obstacle to overcome was not it’s budget or it’s creators lack of dedication, it is simply that YAGLS is far too self-aware for it’s own good. It’s creators knew full well that they were making something intentionally stupid, but a ‘good-bad movie’ is something that is hilarious because it wasn’t supposed to be, and only the opposite when in the hands of seasoned pros. As such, the movie relies on genuine attempts at comedy to sustain interest, and while it can raise a smile here and there, and sometimes outright laughter, what the audience is left with the rest of the time are shock-comedy and gross-out humour jokes, which although earnest, aren’t (for my liking) that funny.

As much as Yeti frazzled my brain and made me utter exasperations under my breath, I can’t help but have a certain respect for it. A bunch of kids got together to make this movie, and succeeded in every respect at creating what they set out to create, and as anyone who as ever given even a cursory thought to how films are produced will know that getting people together to not only plan, but fully execute the production of a feature length film is hard fucking work that requires dedication, patience, determination, and fortitude, regardless of the results. That is highly commendable, even if the product itself is questionable.

So well done, movie. At least on that. But now that I’m finished with ‘Yeti: A Love Story’, I feel like smashing my head against a wall to accelerate the Alzheimers and hopefully forget that it exists. I also wish to Christ I could go and visit relatives and forget that I live in the same universe as the people who created ‘Yeti: A Love Story’, but I don’t think I’m related to anyone who lives that far away, so I guess I’ll just learn to live with it, and try to go back to dreaming about Pamela Anderson instead.

[themify_hr color=”dark-gray” width=”300px” border_width=”1px”]

[themify_author_box avatar=”yes” author_link=”yes”]