Twice Dead (1988) – Bert. L. Dragin.

The rarely mentioned schlock-singer responsible for overlooked teensploitation Summer Camp Nightmare almost guaranteed his fast-track to celluloid obscurity with his hokey-jokey, twisted domicile shocker Twice Dead. After a hard-luck family move into their derelict property, previously owned by deadbeat theater actor Tyler(Jonathan Chapin), Dragin fearlessly recycles all available haunted house tropes to occasionally amusing effect. Twice Dead plays out tepidly like a Charles Band quickie, sans his signature raunchiness, until the livelier final act, which features some robustly schlocky gore gags. It's not just drearily recycled B-scenarios, the dead dialogue is riper than Texas roadkill, and the dime-store hoods come across about as authentically menacing as a novelty coffin coin bank. The bellicose NRA poster boy pop (Sam Melville) was legitimately HOT, I'm digging his FU, Chuck 'cold dead hands!' Heston approach to TCB. On a more personal note, if any of those spunk bubbles had killed my cat, there wouldn't be enough left of 'em to clog a chemical toilet. Morbidly obese Melvin (Travis McKenna) has it about right when he angrily claims: 'What kind of shit is this?'. Scintillating sis-next-door (Jill 'Thunder Run' Whitlow) is undeniably lovely, and her Abercrombie bro (Tom Bresnahan) is only moderately irritating. One of the most patently unthreatening Home invasion horrors I have ever seen, Slick's (Christopher Burgard) crew couldn't invade a fucking Wendy house!