Hemet, Or The Landlady Don’t Drink Tea: Review. By Josiah Teal.

Set in the almost zombie-apocalypse, Hemet is an irreverent horror comedy featuring more than a few foul-mouthed characters. Director Tony Olmos and writer Brian Patrick Butler populate the screen with influences ranging from Tarantino to Rob Zombie as bath salt-breathing zombies threaten a California apartment complex. Indie horror kills pile up as the tenants battle to survive the undead, each other, and their vicious Landlady. Hemet is a proudly violent and strange movie, made seemingly for the darker side of Tubi.

Hemet revolves around the residents of an apartment complex in sunny California. Due to the rise in cannibalistic savages (caused by using bath salts) and the near end of the world, residents of the complex face eviction with as much dread as facing a zombie-like attacker. Several plot threads emerge, ranging from killing perverts and attacking ex-boyfriends to an evil Landlady with a sinister plan. As more and more tenants begin to die or go missing, Hemet turns into a wild ride of quick kills and Texas Chainsaw Massacre influence.

In a world brought to the brink of destruction, Rosie (Kimberly Weinberger) is just trying to survive this nightmare and get her two parking spots. The overall film is an ensemble piece, but Rosie and the tyrannical Landlady, Liz (Brian Patrick Butler), are the two most fleshed-out characters, each acting and reacting within the bounds of their character. Few to no characters are redeeming in Hemet, but it’s clear from the start that Hemet is not the kind of movie where the audience roots for a protagonist; instead, it’s a story where the audience should be captivated by the chaos on camera. Yet without characters, the chaos is unfulfilling. Character motivations are vague. Some plot threads are barely concluded. And the apocalyptic setting is in name only.

Moments in Hemet feel very Clerks-esque; other moments are straight from the vibes of Tarantino, and even the horrifying hillbilly ethos of early Rob Zombie. A bloody, campy spirit tries to persevere throughout the film. Still, it never captures the panache needed for the stylish blend of violence and dialogue that makes a campy horror comedy sing. Casual uses of the R-word and gay slurs without context or characterization often detract from the style Hemet is going for, making moments of dialogue feel like shock for shock’s sake. The film has all the right inspiration to create the wacky, violent film promised, but lacks all the charm to make it a camp classic.

Camp is challenging to define. Determining what makes something a cult classic or separates the so-bad-it’s-good from the rough watches is a fine line. However, one of the most significant commonalities in the world of camp cinema is engagement. Whether it’s Rocky Horror, Harold & Maude, or The Evil Dead, the audience has a yearning kinship to the camp on screen. Hemet has all the premises and promises of a gruesome horror comedy with a Kevin Smith spark, but never gets beyond too many plot threads, a lack of character development, and missing out on the all-important zombies, vital for a film that opens with two men discussing the rise of bath salt zombies. Too often, Hemet gets in its own way, attempting to push an envelope or be edgy when instead it could have just been a strange, stylized tale of murder at the end of the world.

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