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The first Pumpkinhead has rightfully earned its place as a cult favorite but it is no wonder that the follow-up is largely disregarded by most. Directed by Jeff Burr (Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III, Stepfather II), the film seems more concerned with failed visual flair and typical teenage slasher bloodshed than fomenting any sense of wonder or righteous indignation like its predecessor. Also stripped away in the process: the unique and foreboding location and atmosphere, the concern for continuity, or any sense of restraint.
Burr litters the production with an array of camera movements that he surely thought were stylish but end up being laughably woeful and downright cumbersome. Sam Raimi he is not. Worse, he has no sense of how to shoot the titular creature or any other makeup effects in a manner that retains their efficacy. Instead, we get scene after scene presented in wide shots and drenched in light. While the Pumpkinhead suit looks fairly decent, the choices made to feature it do it no favors. This is especially true when the director doesn't realize the importance of scale. The real victims of this directorial slight are this movie's crone (which may or may not be the first movie's witch) and her adoptive offspring, a deformed hybrid of Pumpkinhead and a man. The makeup is fully exposed and rendered utterly ineffective in every single scene that features them.
Still, a good script coupled with a strong cast can save many a perilous production from plunging into the depths. Well, don't hold your breath because these might just be the worst elements. The dialogue is among some of the most groan-inducing I have come across in a LONG while. Blunt, dumb, and desperate to prove how "clever" it is, every line is an eye-roller. Structurally, the script robs the movie of the "mystery" we are seeing unfold so any vested interested (especially given how awful everything is) goes out the window. As for the people delivering these mind-numbing lines...oh boy. Andrew Robinson is the only capable actor in this mess, he stands out amidst his peers but, as a result, he inadvertently puts a spotlight on how comparatively dreadful they are. Even so, Robinson has a hard time making any of his lines work because, well, they stink.
The flick also makes the unadvisable mistake of demystifying the creature (and the hag) by giving them some sort of redemptive qualities. More capable writers could of possibly made this angle work but those types did not linger around this production. Add to all this lower production values, a cheap look that screams direct-to-video schlock (which it was), and a soundtrack for the dogs and you have an entry best forgotten.
Pumpkinhead II: Blood Wings lacks any of the mystique and vibe of the original but it also fails to effectively ply any of the elements it brings into the mix. It seems utterly unconcerned with any sense of quality and, much like its effects, the chinks in the armor are plain to see to even the most casual of viewers. AWFUL.
