Home Sweet Home features one of the craziest killers ever to grace a trashy 80s slasher: a musclebound escaped mental patient who injects PCP under his tongue. Within minutes, this gibbering, wild-eyed, spittle-flecked loon (overacted with relish by body-builder Jake Steinfeld) has throttled a drunk, stolen his car, and callously ploughed down an old lady as she crosses the road (leaving a bright red splash of blood all over the windshield).
Having introduced us to her drug-fuelled juggernaut of a maniac, director Nettie Peña then acquaints us with her equally memorable collection of eccentric victims-to-be who have gathered at a remote woodland ranch to celebrate Thanksgiving: lovers Scott and Jennifer (who can't keep their hands off each other), ex-record company executive Bradley (exploitation producer/actor Don Edmonds) and his big-breasted girlfriend Gail (Leia Naron), hot singing senorita Maria (Lisa Rodríguez) and her boyfriend Wayne (Charles Hoyes), Bradley's young daughter Angel (Vinessa Shaw) and his irritating teen mime-artist/magician/rock guitarist son Mistake (Peter De Paula).
With its colourful characters established, the stage is set for what could easily have been one of the most awesomely absurd slashers of all time, but what follows completely fails to capitalise on its potential for seriously demented horror (surprising considering the involvement of Don Edmonds, director of infamous Nazisploitation flick Ilsa–She Wolf of the SS, a man who knew a thing or two about trash cinema).
Rather than a smörgåsbord of exploitative excess, Home Sweet Home turns out to be a surprisingly reserved affair, with director Peña missing virtually every opportunity to deliver outrageous nudity or gore: most of the characters are dispatched without the need for expensive or time-consuming special effects (ie., they're bloodless and boring); Mistake, who is begging to be gutted like a pig from the word go, suffers a frustratingly bloodless death, electrocuted by a high voltage cable (he could have at least burst into flame or exploded as the current surged through his body); and the film's hottest babe, Maria, gets down to her bra but is killed before baring her jubblies (whereas any self-respecting movie psycho would have ripped off her underwear before delivering the death blow).
Home Sweet Home is just about worth seeing for Steinfeld's unbelievably OTT performance and De Paula's mind-bogglingly bizarre face-painted fret-board widdler, but given the promise of the off-the-wall opening scenes, it can only be viewed as a bit of a disappointment overall.
