There’s something charming about a horror film that knows exactly what it is — and Slaughterhouse on the Hill falls squarely into that category. Tom Devlin’s low-budget slasher leans hard into nostalgia, evoking the grime and goofiness of 1980s exploitation flicks like Slaughterhouse (1987) and Motel Hell (1980). It’s rough around the edges, yes, but it delivers exactly what many slasher fans came for: creative kills, thick atmosphere, and buckets of blood.
The setup is familiar but effective: after a small-town homecoming game, a group of former high schoolers — long past their glory days — decide to relive the past by partying in an abandoned slaughterhouse. Predictably, things go horribly wrong, and one by one they’re picked off by a mysterious killer. While the premise treads well-worn ground, there’s a touch of dark humor in its depiction of people who peaked in high school finally meeting their messy ends.
Where Slaughterhouse on the Hill shines is in its practical effects and commitment to old-school horror aesthetics. The kills are nasty in the best way — a showcase of gooey makeup work and prosthetics that recall the splattery fun of Hatchet or early Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequels. Devlin, known for his background in makeup and effects, clearly poured more care into the gore than the dialogue, and the result is a mixed but occasionally delightful bloodbath.
That said, the film’s pacing can be a real test of patience. The party and dance sequences drag on far too long — especially considering the film’s short runtime. They feel like padding, breaking up the tension rather than building it. A tighter edit could have turned this into a punchier 60-minute thrill ride. The acting, too, ranges from serviceable to downright wooden, with a few performances that might make viewers wince more than the kills themselves. There’s even one actor who seems to be channeling a bizarre Kevin Nash energy — tall, gruff, and unintentionally funny.
Still, there’s a certain charm to Slaughterhouse on the Hill’s earnest trashiness. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, and neither should you. It’s the kind of movie best enjoyed with friends, a few drinks, and maybe some popcorn to throw at the screen when the “oinking” starts. For every clumsy line or awkward cut, there’s a solid death scene or moment of genuine grimy atmosphere to make up for it.
Verdict: Slaughterhouse on the Hill isn’t going to reinvent the genre, but it’s a fine midnight watch for slasher fans who crave old-school gore and don’t mind a bit of amateurish charm. Think of it as the cinematic equivalent of a gas station burrito — messy, cheap, and oddly satisfying if you’re in the right mood.
Jessie Hobson