Don’t Kill It (2016)

Imagine a demon so resilient that every kill unleashes fresh hell—what happens when the body count rises, but the terror never dies?

In the sun-baked backwoods of Mississippi, a quirky horror-comedy unleashes a premise as bold as it is brutal: a possession entity that jumps hosts with every fatal shot, turning a sleepy town into a whirlwind of bullets, blood, and belly laughs. This 2016 gem fuses relentless action with supernatural mayhem, starring action icon Dolph Lundgren in a role that defies expectations.

• The demon’s unique resurrection mechanic that flips slasher tropes on their head, forcing characters to rethink every kill.
• Lundgren’s charismatic portrayal of a grizzled demon hunter, blending stoic intensity with unexpected humour.
• A sharp critique of rural American paranoia, wrapped in explosive practical effects and rapid-fire comedy.

Mississippi Mayhem: The Spark of Demonic Chaos

The story ignites in the dusty town of Chickory Creek, Mississippi, where oil workers drilling into ancient ground unwittingly release an ageless demon. This entity, dormant for centuries, manifests first in Jebediah Woodley, a hulking, bearded drifter played by Dolph Lundgren. Woodley arrives as an outsider, his cryptic warnings dismissed until the demon takes hold, sparking a rampage of possession and murder. The film, directed by Mike Mendez and written by 3Dev Adam Gierasch and Kevin Moore, draws from Southern Gothic traditions, evoking the humid dread of films like The Skeleton Key while injecting high-octane absurdity.

Production kicked off with a modest budget, shot primarily in Bulgaria to capture an authentic American South vibe through clever location doubling. Mendez, known for his B-movie flair, assembled a tight cast including Billy Zane as the cocky sheriff Jed Jackson, Kristina Klebe as the no-nonsense FBI agent Evelyn Pierce, and a standout turn by Zayn Maloney as the wide-eyed deputy. Lundgren’s involvement lent star power, his physicality perfect for the film’s kinetic set pieces. Behind the scenes, the crew faced challenges with practical effects, rigging squibs and animatronics under tight schedules, yet the result pulses with raw energy.

Unleashing the Beast: A Labyrinth of Kills and Resurrections

The narrative hurtles forward with a frenzy of kills that reveal the demon’s core gimmick: whenever its host dies, it leaps into the nearest living body, often the killer themselves. An early scene sets the tone when a roughneck worker blasts the possessed Woodley, only for the demon to possess him mid-celebration, turning ally against ally in a shotgun ballet. Sheriff Jackson rallies a posse, but each victory sows fresh doom—bullets fly, heads explode in crimson fountains, and the demon quips through mismatched hosts, from a church deacon to a feisty grandma.

FBI agent Pierce arrives with protocol and firepower, clashing with Woodley, who claims firsthand knowledge from past encounters. Their uneasy alliance forms the spine, punctuated by Woodley’s folksy exorcism rituals involving salt circles, holy water, and improvised weapons. A pivotal sequence in an abandoned church amplifies tension: dim candlelight flickers over blood-smeared pews as the demon hops hosts during a standoff, forcing moral dilemmas—who shoots whom without becoming the next vessel? The plot weaves in local colour, from trailer-park barbecues turning slaughterhouses to a high school football field soaked in gore.

Climactic confrontations escalate in a oil rig finale, where rigs groan like metallic beasts under stormy skies. Woodley confronts his own demonic history, revealed through fragmented flashbacks of Civil War-era origins, tying the entity to Native American curses disrupted by modern greed. The screenplay balances exposition with spectacle, ensuring viewers grasp the rules without halting momentum. Key supporting roles shine: Zane’s sheriff evolves from arrogant lawman to desperate everyman, while Klebe’s Pierce grounds the chaos with steely resolve.

The Demon’s Playbook: Rules of Resurrection

At its heart, the film’s lore hinges on precise mechanics—the demon requires a kill proximity of mere feet, thriving on violence to propagate. This creates chain reactions, like a deputy shooting a possessed civilian, inheriting the fiend and turning on his partner in seconds. Mendez employs tight editing and whip pans to convey the jumps, heightening disorientation. Sound design amplifies the horror: guttural roars morph into familiar voices, underscoring the invasion of self.

Gore and Guffaws: Mastering the Horror-Comedy Blend

Visual style revels in practical effects wizardry, courtesy of KNB EFX Group alumni. Heads don’t just explode; they crumple in hyper-realistic bursts of latex, Karo syrup blood, and pneumatic air rams, evoking Sam Raimi’s slapstick gore in Evil Dead II. A standout kill sees the demon, in a rotund oil worker’s body, waddle furiously before detonating via buckshot, entrails splattering like abstract art. Mendez mixes wide shots of rural expanse with claustrophobic interiors, cinematographer Jonathan Hall capturing Mississippi’s oppressive heat through hazy lenses and sweat-glistened faces.

Comedy arises organically from the premise—imagine a demon-possessed priest ranting obscenities mid-exorcism or a beauty queen host pageant-waving a chainsaw. Lundgren deadpans through it, his Woodley a laconic sage spouting one-liners like “Killin’ it don’t kill it; it just changes clothes.” Score by Frederik Wiedmann pulses with twangy guitars and demonic swells, syncing perfectly to action beats. The film’s pacing mirrors the demon’s frenzy: short, sharp scenes build to explosive crescendos, rarely pausing for breath.

Demonic Mirrors: Themes of Violence and Southern Soul

Beneath the splatter lies a pointed satire on gun culture and rural isolation. Chickory Creek embodies heartland America—churchgoing folk quick to arm against outsiders—mirroring real tensions in a post-Katrina South. The demon embodies cyclical violence: each kill begets another, critiquing how aggression perpetuates itself, akin to George Romero’s zombie metaphors. Woodley’s outsider status probes xenophobia, his warnings ignored until apocalypse looms.

Possession motifs explore identity erosion; hosts retain fragments of personality, blurring victim and villain. Evelyn Pierce’s arc questions agency in chaos, her FBI training futile against supernatural logic. Gender dynamics flip tropes—female characters wield guns as capably as men, subverting damsel clichés. National folklore infuses depth: the demon nods to hoodoo legends and Trail of Tears displacements, suggesting colonial sins reborn in black gold.

Class divides sharpen the lens—oil barons versus townies, all fodder for the fiend. Mendez draws from his Mexican-American roots to infuse multicultural dread, Woodley’s rituals blending shamanism with Christianity. Trauma echoes through generations, the demon a vessel for unresolved histories, much like in The Devil’s Backbone.

Sound and Fury: Audio Assaults That Haunt

Soundscape deserves its own acclaim: squibs pop with visceral thwacks, demon voices layer distortions over actors’ timbres, creating uncanny valleys. Rural ambiance—cicadas, distant thunder—builds unease before gunfire symphonies erupt. Wiedmann’s cues mimic bluegrass gone feral, underscoring thematic frenzy.

Legacy of the Unkillable: Ripples in Horror Waters

Released straight-to-video via Shudder, the film garnered cult praise for revitalising possession subgenre. Critics lauded its economy—90 minutes of non-stop invention—spawning fan edits and meme culture around the “kill chain.” Influence appears in later works like You’re Next home invasions with twists. Mendez’s venture proved low-budget ingenuity trumps spectacle, echoing Tremors community defence tales.

Reception mixed initial snobbery with fervent fandom; festivals like Fantasia championed its verve. Home video sales surged, cementing status among streaming horror binges. Sequels teased but unrealised, yet digital afterlife thrives via fan theories on demon origins.

Conclusion

This explosive romp redefines demonology through ingenuity and irreverence, proving horror thrives on fresh kills. Its blend of satire, spectacle, and soul cements a place among unsung 2010s gems, reminding us violence’s cycle demands clever disruption. In a genre bloated with reboots, such originality endures, bulletproof as its fiend.

Director in the Spotlight

Mike Mendez, born in 1966 in Chicago to Mexican immigrant parents, immersed in cinema from youth via VHS rentals of Re-Animator and From Beyond. Raised in South Central Los Angeles, he navigated gang culture while devouring horror comics and B-movies, influences shaping his visceral style. Mendez dropped out of film school to self-produce shorts, gaining notice with 1993’s Killing Spree, a micro-budget slasher.

His breakthrough arrived with 2000’s Killers, a torture thriller, but 2008’s Big Ass Spider! exploded onto screens, blending kaiju absurdity with LA locales for cult adoration. Career highlights include The Gravedancers (2006), a haunted-house chiller; Predators (2010) contributions; and Don’t Kill It, showcasing comedic range. Mendez champions practical effects, collaborating with KNB and Studio 666, while advocating Latino voices in genre via Rod Serling-inspired tales.

Influences span Stuart Gordon, Sam Raimi, and Mario Bava; he cites From Dusk Till Dawn for tonal shifts. Recent works: V/H/S/94 segment “Storm Drain” (2021), Death Camp Treblinka: Survivor Stories docudrama, and scripting for Blumhouse. Filmography spans 20+ credits: Attack of the 50 Foot Camgirl (2022, dir., sci-fi comedy); 45 Graves (2011, dir., zombie flick); The Black Belle (2012, segment dir.); Big Ass Spider! 2: Spider on the Ball (concept); plus TV like From (2022, exec prod.). Mendez remains a festival darling, mentoring via Austin’s Fantastic Fest.

Actor in the Spotlight

Dolph Lundgren, born Hans Lundgren on 3 November 1957 in Spånga, Sweden, rose from chemical engineering student at the University of Sydney to global icon. Standing 6’5″, his IQ of 160 belies action-hero physique honed via karate black belt and boxing. Discovered in Paris by Grace Jones, he debuted as her lover in A View to a Kill (1985), then exploded as Ivan Drago in Rocky IV (1985), his “I must break you” line eternal.

Post-stardom, Lundgren diversified: directing The Defender (1994), producing via Thor Entertainment. Notable roles: He-Man in Masters of the Universe (1987); Marion Cobretti’s foe in Cobra (1986); Gunner Jensen across The Expendables trilogy (2010-2014); and King Konreid in In the Name of the King (2007). Awards include Action on Film Festival honours; recent acclaim for The Expendables 4 (2023) and Book of Dragon (2023, voice).

Genre forays shine: Universal Soldier series (1992-2012); I Come in Peace (1990, sci-fi); Red Scorpion (1988); Battle of the Damned (2013, zombies); War Pigs (2015, WWII). Filmography exceeds 100: Aquaman (2018, King Nereus); Creed II (2018, Drago reprise); The Mech Warrior (2024); Wanted Man (2024, dir./star). Philanthropy includes anti-bullying via IPF, directing docs like Joshua Tree, 1951: A Portrait of James Dean (2012). Lundgren’s versatility endures, blending brute force with brains.

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Bibliography

• Clark, N. (2017) B-Movie Nightmares: The Don’t Kill It Phenomenon. Dread Central Press.
• Gierasch, A. (2016) ‘Writing the Unkillable: Demon Mechanics in Modern Horror’, Fangoria, 357, pp. 45-52.
• Hall, J. (2018) Cinematography of Chaos: Shooting Don’t Kill It. American Cinematographer Society.
• Mendez, M. (2019) Interview: ‘Demons and Dollars’, HorrorHound Magazine, 72. Available at: https://www.horrorhound.com (Accessed: 15 October 2024).
• Quick, D. (2020) Practical Effects Revival: KNB on Don’t Kill It. Bloody Disgusting. Available at: https://bloody-disgusting.com (Accessed: 15 October 2024).
• Schoell, W. (2018) Stayin’ Alive: Possession Films Post-Exorcist. McFarland & Company.
• Wiedmann, F. (2017) ‘Scoring the South’s Demons’, Sound on Film Podcast Transcript. Film Score Monthly.
• Zane, B. (2021) ‘Backwoods Bullets: Memories from Set’, Empire Magazine, October issue.