So there is a bloodsucking baby, but more importantly – old people have sex. Informing my readers of what to look for in a movie is my top priority and here you get old titty.

But the film is really about Madeline (Jordan Ladd from Cabin Fever, Grindhouse) making babies. The opening shot of the movie is her blank stare as her husband sorta screws her and she lifts her legs to ensure his sperm monkeys crawl their way through her fallopian tubes. Husband dies, baby comes out thirsting for blood, and Madeline’s mother-in-law Vivien suffers a three-quarter life crisis and wants to steal her baby.

I’m not gonna kid around here. This film isn’t exactly what I would label as Horror. Sure there are disgusting images and tons of blood (bloody baby bath, bloody baby birth, bloody baby nursing, etc). There is even bloody titty, which is not to be confused with old titty. But overall, the film plays more like a fucked up Lifetime movie complete with stillbirths, angry lesbian lovers, baby snatching, and unfit mothers. I wondered when Tori and Candy Spelling were going to show up to food fight over who’s a worse mother and then stomp on Aaron’s grave.

But that’s not to say that I didn’t like the film. In fact, I was surprised at how well written it really was. I expected just a cheapo baby munching horror film and instead got a psychological observation on everything mother-ish. Which is exactly why some guys may not enjoy this movie. Come for the titty sucking, stay for the moral lesson. Or not.

I’m not entirely sure which side of the fence writer-director Paul Solet stands. Is he a vegan? Is he a breeder? Is he an ex-PETA worker? I have no idea. But that’s why I liked his film. It deals with heavy elements without coming off preachy. He gives you the story and the visuals and leaves you to make up your mind. Like the horrific images of animals slaughtered, and yet there is the comment made of a mother who “starved her baby to death with wheatgrass.” Or how mother-in-law Vivien comes to the rescue of Madeline’s sick baby and yet kills her cat in the process. There really is no Right or Wrong with any of these women. They all seem to have good intentions while doing increasingly sick things.

However, pretty much all of the men in the film are replaceable or disposable. Neither of the husbands to Madeline or Vivien do anything really. They are walking cum dispensers. Once they’ve served their purpose, they either die or walk out of the scene. Madeline’s “savior” is her ex-lesbian lover, who ironically yields the biggest rack of all the women. Even the ending, which I won’t ruin for you, hammers this idea home. Wanna take a guess? I’ll give you a hint- there are no men involved. They simply aren’t needed. (I can hear the soft whimpers of the young men reading this as their ballsacks shrivel up.)

Madeline’s husband is a momma’s boy who is unable to protect his own wife. When she is rushed to the hospital, he just stands by idly. And yet her midwife, aka lesbian lover, rushes to her side like Wonder Woman because the husband’s spidey senses haven’t kicked in yet even at his age.

And the doctor examination scene is the creepiest part of the whole movie and doesn’t involve the baby or blood. All the men are portrayed as perverts, weirdos, or wimps and this is none more apparent as is here. Madeline is about 2 feet shorter than the good doctor, thus making her look like a ten year old child as he tells her he is going to “stick her” and asks her to take her top off. As he helps her to pump her breast milk (for some sort of a gross sample he probably intends to drink later), her milk runs down his fingertips. It’s such a small scene with very little going on and yet I wanted to throw up at the sight of this guy.

In fact, just looking at the tagline “Love… Undying” implies so much more. It is the love a mother, or any woman, can give that is undying. Like Madeline’s love for her dead baby that brings it back to life. Or Vivien’s love for her dead son that practically turns her into a killer. But what of the love from a man? It is practically worthless. Madeline’s husband loves her, but that doesn’t stop his dumbass from dying and leaving her to fend for herself. Vivien’s husband also lost his son, yet he conveys almost no emotion at all. And worse yet, he hasn’t a clue how to comfort his wife and doesn’t even acknowledge that she is having some sort of a breakdown. Like in the scene after the son’s death in their bedroom, he only responds to her when she yells at him. The moment real emotion sets in, he walks away and Vivien is left standing there crying alone.

I’m almost shocked Solet wrote this. (For the record, I like to call him Sole’ because it sounds French, but rhymes with Ole’!) Solet is a young man with tattoos that touched my titty at a Fangoria convention. And yet the guy has depth. I’d say the guy has a huge talent for writing, which may be due in part to his studying psychology and being mentored by … Eli Roth? But seriously, his understanding of human emotions, especially of women’s, coupled with the gross body horror visuals make him someone to keep an eye on. I’d liken him to a younger, more sensitive David Cronenberg.