My dear readers, though it is difficult to deny that those belonging to the Hauntedhouse lineage have maintained a certain level of material comfort for many generations, there were times when the tightening of belts, the pulling up of bootstraps and the stiffening of upper lips became of the utmost importance. My distant relative Horatius Hauntedhouse experienced such a sorry lack of financial certitude and for a time was unable to afford the full staff of servants to which he had become accustomed. Faced with the possibility of cutting his domestic workforce by a third, Horatius used his background in unorthodox surgical techniques to lash a few of them together in the hopes that he could create a sort of “super servant,” a creature with the brains and brawn of three individuals that would accept the wages of one. My understanding is that none of these amalgamated monstrosities survived but luckily Horatius’ experiments managed to pick off just enough of his employees to keep his balance book in the black.

The star of Dead Shack, known only as “the neighbor,” is deeply familiar with providing for her family during times of adversity. Though her moniker communicates her proximity to other people, it neglects to mention that she is also a devoted wife and mother. There are some lesser individuals who absolutely crumple at the first sign of trouble and are hardly of use to anyone, but not this dependable old gal. And it’s a good thing, too, as her family is in need of some support. The whole lot of them have died and returned as flesh-eating zombies and for the sake of discretion, their loving matriarch lures unfortunate victims to their secluded abode and passes off their bodies to her hungry family.

This turns out to be a fairly goodish strategy until a trio of vacationing adolescents in a nearby rental cabin make a game out of spying on the house next door, quickly discovering the secret behind the neighbor’s homey victuals. They attempt to convey her unusual dining habits to Roger (Donavon Stinson), an unwed father to two of these curious little youngsters whose chemical indulgences and poor choice in female companionship make him more of a liability than a source of guardianship. Roger’s profoundly endearing attempts to investigate their claims also turn out to be a bit bumbling and the two families quickly find themselves at cross-purposes, with the neighbor doing her best to keep her family fed while the gang of youths do their best to keep themselves off the menu. 

Though I have seen many of the old fashioned values that I happen to cherish erode significantly over the years, I am deeply pleased to see a handful of contemporary philanthropic initiatives aimed at bringing families together every day for supper. The spirit of this idea is quite present in Dead Shack, which begins with the neighbor’s unique manner of laying a table for her family before quickly moving on to a roadside diner, Roger’s own means of sharing a meal with his children. Whether it’s circled round a traditional family table or squatted on the floor, gnawing on scraps of a murder victim next to your half-rotted sibling, sharing a meal is an important way for families to come together. The neighbor’s culinary efforts might leave a seat or two empty at someone else’s dinner table but it is still an approach I find hard to fault given the loving constancy it represents and it is encouraging to see Dead Shack adopt such a public-spirited topic as its central theme.

Dead Shack runs 85 minutes and is rated R for bloody violence and gore, language throughout and some sexual references.