Horror sequels are hit or miss. For every Dawn Of The Dead, you have a Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3. For every Hellraiser 2 you have a Halloween 5. For every Nightmare On Elm St 3 you have a rest of the NOES franchise (aside from New Nightmare). So, Jason Howden’s follow up to his 2015 splatter fest Deathgasm was anticipated with bated breath, with the hope that Howden could re-capture lightning in a bottle for the sequel, the aptly titled Deathgasm II: Goremaggedon.
Goremaggedon picks up a few years later from where the first film left off. Brodie, the affable metalhead loser from Deathgasm, is still grinding along with the titular band, hoping to at least make it big in the underground black metal scene of Wellington. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be happening any time soon. He can’t catch a break, as he is unemployed and recently single in addition to dealing with the ever more apparent reality that success through music just isn’t in the cards for him. In a hail Mary attempt at impressing an ex through winning a battle of the bands, Brodie uses the Black Hymn from the first film to resurrect his two deceased bandmates and reassembles the OG Deathgasm. Unfortunately for Brodie (but fortunately for gore hounds!) the spell goes awry, and his two bandmates are resurrected as flesh hungry zombies. Mayhem ensues, and Brodie must contain his bullshit before all is lost.
Alas, aside from the rampant gore and juvenile humor, this film falls almost entirely short of the first one. None of the spark that the first film had is here. Characters that were flawed but endearing from the first film just come off as absolute irredeemable pricks or worse just completely forgettable. Notably, Joshua James Blake’s Zakk, the less than loveable big brother archetype who selflessly saves the day in the first film after spending much of it being an abrasive dickhead for much of it, is now just a grunting stereotype of a zombie with none of the charm he previously had. And I understand that it’s hard to bring character to a zombie. But it’s not impossible, and it feels like Blake isn’t even trying. And Daniel Cresswell’s Giles is overwhelming in every scene he’s in. Even Milo Cawthorne as Brodie seems flat and apathetic, with none of the “and a hero shall rise” charisma that he radiated in the first film. It’s a constant parade of shit being thrown at the wall to see what sticks, heaps of gore that seems to be done almost ironically, and an approach that borders the bro-y nonsense of such films as Velocipasture and Dick Shark, try hard bullshit that tries to be “so bad it’s good” on purpose and fails utterly. Instead of a heavy metal love letter to Peter Jackson and Sam Raimi, Howden delivers something akin to the smirking meanness of The Human Centipede, something that seems more intent on shocking through any means necessary than capturing the magic of the first film.
It’s a shame honestly. This film lacks all the heart of the original and brings none of the genuine fun that its predecessor had. And maybe I’m being unfair because I understand that I’ve used some permutation of “the original” over a dozen times in this review. But…that’s what a sequel ought to be. It must be an improvement on the original or it will fail. I’ll give Howden credit for swinging for the fences with his sequel, but it honestly feels like he was trying an entirely different sport with this one. Gore hounds will be happy, but if you’re looking for a similar flavor to the ultra-endearing first film, you’re likely going to be disappointed
