Schlock & Gore: Tantrum (2015)

Tantrum is the third film by indie filmmaker, James Bell. It runs 35 minutes, but I promise you lose time watching Tantrum. By then end I felt like I had just been dragged across sandpaper the entire length of the Missouri River. This film is mean.


Tantrum is the kind of film that will make you wonder if you’re actually having a nightmare. I recommend watching it on as little sleep as possible, preferably jacked up on your energy drink of choice (I like Rockstar BOOM! Whipped Strawberry because it’s gangster as hell).

Real eyes realize real lies.


So what is it about? Ultimately it’s about the gore. There’s no dialogue. Nothing to distract you from the carnage on screen. The dissonant music amplifies the discomfort you experience as you watch a man saw his own cock off, or throw up chunks of organs that then crawl around the bathroom floor. You starting to get the picture?

I like to call this bathroom squanch.

The story, as I interpret it, is pretty basic. This twisted junkie dude shoots himself and goes to a limbo-like place, where he is shown some of his more gruesome and grotesque acts by a papier-mâché God and is sent to hell. I’m probably way off, but you would have no way of knowing.


He mutilates himself, picks at skin abnormalities, smokes crack, masturbates in the dirt, and attacks women. I won’t spoil the rest.

James Bell ripping out a tendon in his wrist.

If Begotten, Combat Shock, and The Burning Moon had a threesome, and then devoured eachother’s heads post-coitus like praying mantises, you’d have Tantrum. A spectacular display of gore effects, twisted moments, prosthetic penises, and indie heart.


I would crowdfund this artist. He has the bruised brain of a Harmony Korine, or a David Lynch. I hope to see him grow in the future. You can purchase all of his projects directly from him at Very Fine Crap Videos here:


Stay slime, and be rad at all times!

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