hen the world is ruled by violence and the soul of mankind fades …” So begins “Neon Maniacs,” the tale of monstrous mutants who emerge from the shadows (of San Francisco) to punish the evils of humans, as if a hellish, twisted take on the Rapture – or the premise of “Night of the Living Dead.” Perhaps more accurately, they’re like Clive Barker’s Cenobites from “Hellraiser”: demonic angels whose views of extreme experiences don’t align with humanity’s general concepts of a paradise or rewards in the afterlife (amusingly, this picture predates “Hellraiser” by a year or so; one of the creatures even looks like Chatterer).

“You named your dog, Dog?” When Steven (Clyde Hayes), a grocery store delivery guy, runs across Natalie Lawrence (Leilani Sarelle) on her birthday, it’s obvious he’s smitten. But she has more popular pals (though Steven is also a singer and guitarist in a rock band, which is obviously pretty cool) to hang out with in the park, where teenagers go to make out (and bare breasts). Unfortunately for them, they become the first victims of the Neon Maniacs, who sever a head (whilst a woman gives head), snap bones, slice off appendages, and lash out with all sorts of edged weapons. And one of the naughty copulaters moronically runs headfirst into a noose, which expectedly ends badly for him.

The gore is mediocre but copious, clearly trying its best to appear ghastly within the confines of a very limited budget and resources. The acting, however, is so pitiful that it’s difficult to appreciate the efforts put into the visuals; when characters screech unconvincingly or spout cheesy lines of dialogue (Natalie uses her friend’s name, Lisa, about three times in just a couple of sentences while talking to her) before succumbing to the woes of viciously torn-off limbs, thrills suffer tremendously. It’s certainly not believable when Natalie goes for a relaxing midnight swim after having just witnessed her entire gang of friends getting butchered – though it does provide an opportunity for her to slip into a revealing bathing suit – or when she returns to school the very next morning, not too traumatized to attend her classes. It’s also silly when the police apparently fail to notify the parents of the deceased kids, prompting them to harass Natalie, as if she slaughtered them all herself.

Meanwhile, young Paula Peterson (Donna Locke) – fascinated with monster movies and related costumes and makeup, obsessed with masks and techniques for recreating cinematic ghouls – hears of the deaths in the park. Inspired by all things macabre, she begins digging into the details, hoping to unearth the mysteries of murderers who leave behind gobs of glowing green gunk during their attacks. This character, perhaps reflecting the filmmakers’ own interests in copying and making a B-movie slasher, adorns her room with movie posters and sports a hat like the ones worn by the space truckers of “Alien.” She also wanders around alone at night in unlit alleyways near the Golden Gate Bridge with her trusty camera, hoping to capture proof of the underworld denizens and their scarred, mutilated visages. It’s a good thing she specializes in monster mythology, remains fearless in dicey situations, and that the goopy antagonists melt when exposed to water (the easiest of solutions!).

“They’re after me!” With substandard sequences of lurking and stalking in traditional locales like the woods and the subway and a bus, “Neon Maniacs” poses almost no originality or horror. It tries in earnest, but the execution is frequently downright lamentable – or laughable. It doesn’t help that the music is dreadful – and that the third act bizarrely sets itself in the auditorium of the high school where two bands have themselves a conspicuously tame battle. It’s a weird inclusion in a z-grade gorefest, though it’s the first time the film offers up something unusual – so unusual, in fact, that it’s unfitting and unintentionally funny. It’s comparably unexplained as to why some of the maniacs are like zombies, retaining human professions (such as a surgeon and a soldier), while others are are far more over-the-top – like a samurai, a Dark Ages archer, a caveman, an Indian, black-leather-clad warriors (like those in the Mad Max series), and a one-eyed lizard-man. Whatever the backstory of these killers was meant to be (“Nightbreed” may have borrowed an idea or two from all of this), it’s too vague and disjointed to be engaging, culminating in an ending that abruptly stops without any resolution or informative answers.

– Mike Massie