Category: Paranormal

I watched this on a cold Friday, around 1 a.m., with a big bowl of kettle corn and a fuzzy blanket. The title alone made me laugh. I mean, lederhosen plus zombies? I was in. I hit play and hoped for goofy snow chaos. I got that. And a lot of green slime.
If you’re curious how the critics sized it up, you can skim the Rotten Tomatoes page for scores and snark before diving in.
Need the nitty-gritty production gossip? Check out the late-night snow-gore snack write-up for all the oozy details.

So…what is this thing?

It’s a short, snowy horror-comedy set on an Alpine mountain. A group of young snowboarders get stuck after a stunt goes wrong. They end up at a small lodge where a rich guy shows off a new snow-making spray. The spray is bright green and super sketchy. It hits a worker in the face, he starts acting weird, and then—boom—zombie outbreak. The locals in lederhosen turn fast. The lodge turns into a war zone with beer, skis, and loud polka-ish music in the background.

The whole thing scratches my ’80s zombie-movie heart—bright blood, big reactions, and zero apologies.

I watched it on my living room TV with my Roku. The sound was decent. The picture looked a bit grainy in dark scenes, but the snow made the colors pop.

The vibe: silly, snowy, and sticky

• The tone is goofy on purpose. Lots of slapstick.
• The gore is cartoon-level. Think fake blood, globs of green goo, and heads bonking into railings.
• The music leans old-timey Alpine, with a wink. You’ll hear stomps and claps while someone gets chased across the snow.

I almost turned it off in the first ten minutes because the acting felt stiff. But then the lodge party kicks in, and I started grinning. It knows it’s a cheap thrill. It doesn’t pretend to be deep.

Scenes that stuck to me like wet snow

• The snow machine demo: The green spray blasts a guy, he staggers outside into the cold, and you know it’s bad. His eyes get glassy. He lurches back into the bar, and people think he’s drunk—until he bites someone near the dartboard.
• Bar-room brawl: One of the snowboarders chucks beer steins at zombie heads. The clink-crack sound is weirdly funny. Someone slips on a puddle and takes two zombies down like bowling pins.
• Fireworks in the snow: They light a bunch of fireworks to draw the zombies away from the door. Bursts of red and gold pop over the white slope while the heroes sprint to a snowcat. It looks cheap, but it works.
• The snowcat chase: Loud engine. Chunky tracks. Zombies thump against the metal sides while the driver yells over the noise. I felt my shoulders tense up. I don’t even like big machines, but this had grit.

Small detail I liked: the breath clouds in the night air. You can see how cold it is. You can almost feel the wet gloves.

What worked for me

• Short and fast. It doesn’t waste time.
• The setting. Snow makes everything brighter and weirder. Blood on snow looks poppy, like fake cherries.
• Physical comedy. People wipe out. Doors jam. A snowboard becomes a shield. Simple, dumb fun.
• The bar owner. She’s tough, tired, and holds a shotgun like it’s her third arm. I wanted more of her.

What didn’t

• Some jokes fall flat. A few lines feel like they were written in a rush.
• Night scenes can be muddy. You lose faces in the shadows.
• The characters barely grow. If you want rich backstories, you won’t find them here.
• Cheap-looking effects. That green goo? It’s very Halloween store. I still laughed, but yeah.

For a more formal take on the film’s splattery antics, the Los Angeles Times ran a concise mini-review that breaks down the pros, cons, and camp factor.

Who should press play?

• You love campy horror with snow, like Dead Snow, but want something lighter and shorter.
• You can handle fake blood and slapstick bites.
• You’re hosting a winter movie night. This is perfect between pizza and hot cocoa.

Feeling inspired to swap the fictional Alpine mayhem for an actual mountain escape? Before you book your lift ticket, skim the nightlife cheat sheet for Avon over at Backpage Avon—it gathers up local lounges, events, and adult-friendly hangouts so you can plan some off-slope thrills to match your on-screen chills.

Binged a weekend of undead flicks on streaming? Warm up with this breezy carnage after reading the Paramount Plus zombie marathon recap to keep your queue stacked.

For even more bizarre undead hijinks, swing by AllFlesh and browse their vault of zombie curiosities before you hit play.

Need a spot to geek out over snowbound splatter with other queer horror fans once the credits roll? Check the detailed rundown of the rooms and community rules in the Gay Chat Zone review—it’ll help you decide if this lively chat hub is the perfect virtual lodge for your next midnight movie ramble.

If you hate goofy gore or you need a smart plot, skip it. If you want a wild ski-lodge mess, this scratches the itch.

Little snack pairings I tried

• Kettle corn with extra salt. Works with the beer-on-screen vibe.
• Hot cocoa with a tiny pinch of chili powder. Warm face, cold movie.

Craving something cartoonier after the blood-snow ballet? Peek at this hunt for movies like Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island for a lighter palate cleanser.

Final take

Attack of the Lederhosen Zombies is a one-sitting, snow-splattered giggle. It’s clumsy in spots, yes. But it owns its chaos. I laughed, I winced, I yelled “Don’t go out there!” at least twice. Then I went to bed and dreamed about zombies yodeling down a slope. Not scary. Just loud.

Would I watch it again? With friends and snacks—yep. Alone at 1 a.m.? Maybe not. But you know what? For 80-something minutes of snowy nonsense, it does the job.

I watched Crimson Peak on a rainy Tuesday night. Lights off. Blanket on. I rented it on Apple TV, made hot cocoa, and settled in. My cat, Nori, took the arm of the couch like a tiny gargoyle. I thought I’d be scared silly. If you want the condensed version of my reaction, I actually put together a spoiler-free rundown over at Crimson Peak gave me chills.

Here’s the thing: I wasn’t terrified. But I was spellbound.

So, what is it?

It’s a gothic ghost story by Guillermo del Toro. Think big house, dark halls, old secrets. Mia Wasikowska plays Edith. Tom Hiddleston is Thomas. Jessica Chastain is Lucille, and she steals scenes like it’s nothing. It leans more romance and mood than full-on horror. More candlelight and whispers than jump scares. And that’s not a bad thing—just different. It fits perfectly into the kind of candlelit dread I talked about in my night with gothic horror.

Curious what the wider critical world thinks? The aggregated reviews on Rotten Tomatoes paint a similarly atmospheric picture—rich visuals applauded, story debates aplenty.

How I watched it

I paused once, right after the first ghost shows up. Not because I was too scared, but because I wanted to breathe and, yeah, whip some whipped cream into my cocoa. The sound of the house creaking felt like my old radiator. You know what? I liked that. It felt lived in.

What it felt like

The house—Allerdale Hall—felt like a person. It breathes. It groans. The roof is open, so leaves fall inside like red snow. Actual red shows up a lot. The clay under the house seeps up and stains the snow. It looks like blood, but it’s not blood. It’s clay. That stuck in my head all night. The chilly, slow-burn tension reminded me of the winter-bound unease in We Are Still Here.

Real moments that got me

• The bathtub scene: a wet, black ghost creeps up slow. I was sure it would jump. It doesn’t. It just watches. I sank into the couch.
• The elevator: the sound it makes is like a sigh. When it drops, my cat jumped. I laughed out loud.
• The wax cylinder: Edith plays an old recording. A dead wife speaks from a hiss of static. I leaned closer without even thinking.
• The kitchen: a knife on a table, a red stain on the floor, and Lucille’s face calm as ice. My stomach twisted a bit.
• The end in the snow: a shovel, white ground, red clay bleeding through. The wind bites. The camera lingers. I could almost feel the cold.

Del Toro has always insisted that Crimson Peak is less about powerless damsels and more about giving its heroine real agency; he even joked to Time that he “armed the damsel with a knife.” You can dig into that insight in their feature on the film.

That slow, watchful approach to haunting feels spiritually akin to the mother-centric dread of Mama (2013), another film that knows a quiet corridor can be scarier than any jump scare.

Stuff I loved

• The house design: the hole in the roof, the mold on the walls, the sinking floor. It’s art.
• Costumes: the silk gowns, the tight collars, the gloves. You can hear fabric whisper when they move.
• Color: white snow, red clay, black halls. It tells the story without words.
• The score: soft strings, a waltz that turns cruel.
• Jessica Chastain: sharp eyes, quiet rage. Every line lands.

Stuff that bugged me

• The ghosts look a bit shiny sometimes. A touch too much CG for my taste.
• The plot is pretty easy to guess by the middle. I called one twist while stirring my cocoa.
• The pacing sags a bit in the second act. I checked the time once.
• The love story feels thin. Pretty, but light.

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Who should watch this?

If you like The Others or old-school haunted tales, this hits. If you want lots of jump scares, maybe not. It’s more candlelit doom than loud shock. If nocturnal solo viewings are your thing, consider pairing it with the bleak folk horror of The Witch or the courtroom chills of The Exorcism of Emily Rose—both deliver very different but equally potent frights. For more musings on elegantly spooky films, swing by AllFlesh where cinephiles dissect atmosphere like it’s an art form.

Small, handy tips

• Watch with good sound. The house noises matter.
• Keep the lights low. The colors pop in the dark.
• October watch? Perfect. Rain helps, too.

A quick nerd note (but simple)

The production design is top notch. The blocking—where people stand and move—keeps your eyes working. The color grading leans red and gold, then cold blue at the end. It’s careful work. You can feel it.

Final take

Crimson Peak didn’t terrify me. It haunted me. I kept seeing that red snow when I tried to sleep, and hearing that soft elevator sigh. I’d give it a strong 7.5 out of 10. For mood and beauty, it’s a 10. For pure scares, maybe a 6.

Would I watch it again? Yep. On a cold night, with cocoa, blanket, and Nori pretending she’s the queen of Allerdale Hall. And honestly, she kind of is.