When Your Flesh Screams


By: Addison Wylie

“Have you ever exceeded the limits of pain?”  Now, I have.

When Your Flesh Screams is in need of more lighting, more rewrites, more experienced actors, and more time in an edit bay.  Most of all, Guillermo Martínez’s low-rent ode to exploitation-horror is in need of someone to show it the door.

This is a film made by people who have seen raw works like Last House on the Left and are only interested in the broad strokes.  To these people, there’s nothing more to these films than the violence and the brutality.  Filmmakers whom are frighteningly fixated on these vague ugly details produce nasty movies – there’s no question about it.  Sometimes these horror stories can tell deeper meanings behind sadistic motives, and the exposed secrets reveal unhinged fear that makes the horrific circumstances much more comprehensible.  There’s none of that in When Your Flesh Screams, a film that features an uncut sequence of our leading female getting raped for eight minutes with the only comprehensible motivation being an amateur filmmaker is trying to stupidly one-up other professional filmmakers.

Really, what am I doing?  I’m trying to issue a review for a film that is so incredibly steeped and lost in its own filth.  What can I say about a movie that blatantly disrespects and embarrasses men and women in gross, deplorable ways?  What insight do I provide to a film that disturbingly slings rape, torture, and murder towards movie goers as if it were checking items off of a shopping list?  Our tortured lead Martina (played by Victoria Witemburg) is crippled and then suddenly finds superhuman strength at the drop of a hat.  I’m unsettled to know this classless filmmaker has no problem showing scenes of incessant violence towards females, but shows very little when Martina is getting even with her male kidnappers.

The million dollar question is: would Guillermo Martínez take my criticisms seriously?  I don’t think he would.  He doesn’t deserve my focus nor yours.  I think he’s made the film he’s wanted to make, and he’s going to get the reactions he set out to gather.  Perhaps my disgusted anger with When Your Flesh Screams will please Martínez.  If it does, let my outrage be heard.

I try not to use this phrase but, readers, don’t watch When Your Flesh Screams.  Even if this sort of relentless horror is your thing, you’ve seen this done better with more maturity and discipline.  Don’t dedicate yourself to such a cruel, crappy movie that steals your time and never feels bad for doing so.  I’ve taken this bullet for you.  Please, I’m begging you, watch anything else.

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