The Burning Moon

A sullen, drugged-up delinquent gets left babysitting his little sister and tells her two bedtime stories, both of which turn out to be excuses for Olaf Ittenbach to empty every bucket of fake viscera in Germany. Shot on video for pocket money with a cast of friends, it is amateur in every technical respect and completely deranged in its commitment to gore, ending in a descent into a hell that looks like a slaughterhouse that ran out of budget halfway through. The effects are homemade at Herschell Gordon Lewis levels. Nobody will call it good, and the right viewer will not care.