My dear readers, while I must confess that I have never been the most adept pair of hands when it comes to tending the old bar, my sweet Penny Dee has requested my assistance in her efforts to produce a botanical cordial as a present to some very dear friends of ours. Unfortunately, the recipe for this little elixir calls for boilroot, an ingredient that has proven a bit difficult to acquire. Its lack of common availability can be credited to a silly superstition about the effects of coming in direct contact with the herb, one that suggests a beastly transformation. Initially, I fancied myself full of good fortune, as I was able to locate a horticulturist who seemed unfamiliar with all this foolishness and I felt all the more victorious after his report that a specimen had been procured. But although our initial telephone calls on the matter were perfectly cordial, he has recently adopted a most unprofessional attitude, growling all kinds of inaudible nonsense and even letting out a cry so sharp that a pair of robins perched outside my office window fell dead from the shock of it. At first, I simply thought he was driving a rather hard bargain but I believe that during our last little chat the subject of pricing hardly came up at all. It just goes to show that when it comes to certain transactions, you never really know who it is you are dealing with.

Diana “Sugar” Hill (Marki Bey) knows all about unsatisfying monetary negotiations. She has recently lost her betrothed to a violent scuffle, one orchestrated by Morgan (Robert Quarry), overseer of a local crime syndicate. This incorrigible rogue has his heart set on purchasing Club Haiti, a recreational establishment belonging to Sugar’s late fiancé, and when negotiations did not go his way, Morgan felt that homicide might be the best path forward. While this course of action does put a definitive end to their deliberation, it does not result in the club becoming Morgan’s legal property. Instead, ownership is transferred to Diana. Morgan wastes no time in resuming his campaign and though the risk of a faux pas is significant, he approaches Diana about buying up the place while she is still in mourning. 

Though she has no formal nightclub management experience, Diana does not find this offer particularly attractive, as she is still quite upset about the whole murdered fiancé business. Instead, she opts to form a partnership with someone else entirely -- Baron Samedi (Don Pedro Colley), loa of the dead. She offers Samedi her mortal soul and asks that, in exchange, she be able to command legions of walking corpses. A zombie army can be useful for all sorts of things but Diana really only wants one so she can wreak terrible, bloody vengeance on Morgan and his associates. Baron Samedi happily accepts this proposal and before you know it, she and her new undead acquaintances are merrily reducing the ranks of the Houston mafia.

Ever since George A. Romero decided to take a break from commercial ventures and give narrative filmmaking a go, the undead have been a vibrant part of the horror genre. Most of the time they are presented as a somewhat adversarial force and while there is certainly nothing wrong with a film where reanimated corpses are little more than a mass of appendages squirming through poorly boarded windows, director Paul Maslansky demonstrates that there are other exciting possibilities to explore. Few films, for example, focus on collaborative efforts between zombies and humans and as this particular movie demonstrates, a little cooperation goes a long way. I imagine Houston residents had been suffering from the effects of organized crime for some time and reprieve from its tyranny seemed forever out of reach. What an awful thing it must be to be consistently abused by a gang of ruffians who run about doing as they please with no consequence at all.

And yet when the living and the undead unite in a common cause, the entire felonious outfit is dismantled in less than a fortnight. It is greatly encouraging to see such quantifiable progress in the battle against entrenched injustice made in such a short time. Sugar Hill is a handy reminder that when we put aside our superficial differences, many great things can be achieved.

Sugar Hill runs 91 minutes and is rated PG.