There’s something undeniably charming about a puppet serial killer movie, especially one that leans into its own absurdity with as much heart and grit as McConadilla. While it doesn’t quite hit the same highs as Puppet Killer, it still carves out its own space in the niche but growing subgenre of killer puppet horror-comedies. And let’s be honest, there’s always room for another puppet with a taste for blood.
The film marks the directorial debut of Layton Matthews, whose backstory is just as compelling as the film itself. Raised in the guard towers of an East Texas prison, Matthews cut his teeth making zombie flicks during inmate escapes, capturing sirens and horseback chases as “production value.” That rebellious spirit and DIY attitude pulse through every frame of McConadilla, which feels like Greg the Bunny if Greg snapped and went full-blown psycho.
The story centers around a man whose wise-cracking, armadillo-shaped puppet with a thick Texan drawl comes to life and starts killing. Matthews himself plays the lead and also voices McConadilla, sometimes sounding uncannily like Walton Goggins. There’s an unmistakable Will Forte energy to Matthews' on-screen presence, and while not every joke lands (a lot don’t), the good far outweighs the bad. The film’s Troma-esque vibe is loud, weird, proudly trashy, and part of its charm, even when it misfires.
McConadilla opens with a pitch-perfect country song that sets the tone beautifully. From there, the film blends elements of Jim Carrey’s The Mask, oddly enough, with possession horror, swapping out a magical mask for a possessed puppet and ditching the shadows in favor of full-blown gore. And that gore? It delivers. The practical effects are creative, shocking, and satisfyingly gruesome.
The set design, costumes, and overall production design are vibrant and full of life. Despite its modest $50,000 budget, the film looks and feels alive, buzzing with chaotic, campy energy. The digital cinematography and spot-on color grade help elevate the entire production. The 16:9 frame is filled with fun visual choices that match the film’s tone: bright, bloody, and just a little unhinged.
Performance-wise, Christine Elise (of Chucky fame) phones it in a bit, but Jesse C. Boyd (The Walking Dead, Halloween Ends) shines with a standout role. Newcomers Evan Queen (aka Queen Q’Ream) and Charity Croomes both make strong first impressions in their debut film appearances. The chemistry between Matthews and his puppet alter-ego is undeniable, and somehow the relationship works. It’s heartfelt, toxic, and hilarious.
That said, the film does have its issues. At 1 hour and 50 minutes, the runtime drags. There are a few too many montage sequences, and some of the music choices feel shoehorned in, like the result of a favor owed to a friend. The pacing suffers, especially in the first act, which takes a good 30 minutes to get going. And while the twist ending is fun, it’s also a little predictable.
Still, McConadilla is an impressive low-budget horror-comedy that knows exactly what it is. It commits to the bit and never lets up. Matthews has created a unique character, one born during the COVID lockdown as part of a Twitch puppet show, that has since evolved into a feature-length, blood-soaked romp. The film embraces its ridiculous premise and rides it hard, with both boots on the gas and one middle finger out the window.
Currently touring the festival circuit, McConadilla has already taken home Best Feature awards at the Chicago Horror Film Festival and Calgary Horror Con. As it gears up for a Texas premiere, Matthews’ big, weird, bloody love letter to horror, comedy, and the Lone Star State is poised to make a splash with local audiences.
In the end, McConadilla might not be perfect, but it’s pure indie spirit. It’s messy, passionate, and fun as hell. If you’re in the mood for something wild, loud, and soaked in fake blood, this puppet’s got your number.
Jessie Hobson