So, what would happen if H.G. Lewis and David Friedman decided to take Blood Feast and make it into an actual movie? Then you’d have today’s opening feature, Two Thousand Maniacs!, the second installment of the Blood Trilogy and widely regarded as the duo’s best collaboration. I’ve seen it twice and have always found it a little overrated — not disappointing by any means, but not even in my top five favorite Lewis movies. But I’ve got a feeling I’ll finally catch a spark from it this third time around.

As in my review of Blood Feast, I’m not going to bother with a ton of plot synopsis. Basically, it’s Brigadoon with a mess of violence when six tourists stumble into the hick ghost town of Pleasant Valley’s centennial celebration. It’s been 100 years since the town was wiped off the map by Yanks in the Civil War, and the ever-festive spirits are ready to celebrate with some of the most creative, elaborate kill sequences ever put to film. That’s all you really need to know, but if you’re thirsty for more, check out Brother R’s old school review; he’s got you covered.

The first thing I’m going to do is admit that I’ve been wrong all these years. This movie is quite awesome and is indeed the highlight of the Blood Trilogy. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. First of all, it’s just a fun movie. You get a nice dichotomy between the bland, wooden protagonists and the drooling, overacting hicks, but it gets genuinely creepy at times when the Yanks are being murdered and the leering rednecks gather around to do their best Jim Stafford impressions. I guess part of it might be that the shine-drenched hicks in this movie are how I’ve always pictured actual southern people. Until I see evidence of the contrary, I’ll continue to believe that.

The individual performances, world renowned for being atrocious, are actually vastly improved coming off Blood Feast, starting with stars Connie Mason and Bill Kerwin (billed as Thomas Wood again), who reprise their once-regrettable on-screen chemistry. Mason, though occasionally still embarrassing (especially when she stupidly runs into a wide-open and very obvious “quicksand” pit in the middle of an open field), shows vast development in her acting and is a more authentic beauty this time around. She’s infinitely more likable here than when trying to drop 10 years to play a schoolgirl. Kerwin, a stunning bore in Blood Feast, is pretty decent here, though he taints things a little by having the plot figured out a little too early.

Stealing the show for the Rebs is Jeffrey Allen as Mayor Buckman, the enthusiastic ringleader to this circus of frightful crackers. The nadir of the whole movie just might be little Billy, a cracker Kenny with a penchant for torturing cats, who leads Kerwin and Mason back to their car and allows them to escape death because they promise him candy and the chance to drive.

Remember those four other Yanks? Well, they die — and gloriously, I might add. The Millers, an unfaithful married couple, are the first to go. The wife has her thumb sawed off and, while seeking medical attention from Mayor Buckman, loses her right arm to a hick with an ax. Her husband, in one of the movie’s most enduring scenes, is drawn and quartered by horses, though budgetary restraints keep most of it off camera.

The highlight of the film is the third kill, in which the husband of a second couple, Mr. Wells, is confined to a wooden barrel with long nails hammered into the sides and rolled down a hill. I could be wrong, but I think that would be an agonizing way to go. Later, his wife is tied up to a demented dunk tank and has a boulder dropped on her. Even with all the bloodshed, the violence factor ends up being even greater than the sum of its kills because each one is augmented by the glee with which the townspeople partake in the murders. Again, I fully believe this kind of thing happens every day in Texas. In addition to rednecks, the south is also known for country music, and this movie has plenty of it, thanks to Lewis’ memorable banjo-and-jug soundtrack. It just wouldn’t have been the same movie without “Yeeeee-haw! The south is gonna rise again!” again and again.

Two Thousand Maniacs kicks ass. And, though they can’t fix my car until tomorrow, I was told it won’t be that much. So things are going okay for me. With all that momentum behind me, onto the final installment of the Blood Trilogy, Color Me Blood Red.