A bum’s cocaine party is rudely interrupted by the falling body of a young woman. Her splattery demise is ruled a suicide but a well dressed junior detective wants to know more. A world weary not so junior detective wishes to call it a day but it seems the dead woman left a tape recorder behind. This is her story….
A group of homely Canadians head out to a secluded farmhouse for some weekend fun. Eric, some kind of macho jerk, leads the group. His gal Karn by his side, friends Sheila and Spider along for the fun and the bullied Floyd being put up with because it’s his family’s home. The car breaks down and they have to walk through the large cornfield surrounding the quaint farmhouse. Along with a creepy ass scarecrow standing guard, there’s a legend of a satanic curse. The group mostly ignores the story but that’ll come back to bite them on their collective Canadian asses.
The gaggle of goons make it to the farmhouse and settle in. Songs around the campfire leads to a make out session between Eric and Karn and Floyd getting turned down by Sheila. Undeterred, Floyd goes on to tell a ghost story. We don’t hear it because Sheila’s tape recorder narration is talking over most of it. Finished, Floyd goes to drain his weenie and catches Eric and Karn getting frisky. When he photographs them, Eric flips and beats the shit out of the peeper. Floyd disappears into the cornfield.
The group goes looking for their picked on acquaintance and find him dead. Not wanting to get in trouble for murdering a schmuck, who’s already an orphan to boot, Eric decides to hide the corpse in that creepy scarecrow they walked by earlier. Seeing that the mask is useless, they opt to conceal Floyd’s head by covering it with a pumpkin. It goes about as bad as it could when the ground splits open and Floyd is resurrected as freaky pumpkin faced maniac with an axe.
PumpkinFloyd begins taking out his former friends and things just get more ridiculous. Karn and Spider bite it at the farmhouse but Sheila and Eric manage to escape. PumpkinFloyd unfortunately is not tied to the earth that birthed him so he pursues with vigor. It all leads to slow motion action and an explosion of craptastic proportions. The veteran detective thinks Sheila is fucking nuts but the younger sleuth thinks there may just be some truth to her wild story.
Incredibly fun and horrendously overacted, Psycho Scarecrow is a trash blast. The schizophrenic soundtrack is pure garbage and the dialogue coming out of the detective’s mouths is film noir written by a high school poet with a weak grasp on emotions. It combines for a jaw dropping hoot of a time. The mask is cheap Halloween store nirvana and works in a surprisingly creepy way. The final shot features our pumpkin headed idiot riding off on a motorcycle. Well done, Canada…well done. 8/10