CutreCon is my second film festival since moving to Madrid. It is unlike any other festival I have been to before, and I am not sure I want to attend any festivals that aren’t like CutreCon. The word “cutre” in Castillian Spanish slang means “cheesy”, or “cheapskate”. And in our case, this means the humble B-movie. And a B-movie is a beautiful thing. There are a number of organisations throughout the UK which appreciate the B-movie, its shlock, its terrible acting, the movie mistakes, and the awful sense of humour – you can attend Bristol Bad Film Club, you can turn up for Reel Steel’s screenings in the gorgeous Abbeydale Picturehouse in Sheffield – but few of these places will have the energy, passion, and pure, excruciating volume, of CutreCon veterans. These sweaty Madrileños, Spaniards from across the Iberian peninsula packed together like sardines into the auditorium, aligned here from the worlds of heavy metal, of LARP, of table top games, descend upon a handful of cinema screens across the nation’s capital for 5 days in February each year, looking to quench their thirst of one thing and one thing only: trash cinema. And CutreCon has it in heaps.
The programming this year seemed fantastic to me. A broad range of films, varying in age, country of origin, genre, quality, attitude, and even genre (including a documentary! Just for me!). I was only able to attend a handful, however this was more than enough for me to become a fan. Queues were a hundred metres long before the films started. Allow me to illuminate why.
Opening Night: Frankie Freako
(2024, dir. Steven Kostanski)
The Canadian director of cult flick Psycho Goreman (2020) is back with a more consciously exploitation-aligned film. Namely leaching off “little creature” films that spawned in the wake of the success of Dante’s Gremlins (1984). We follow pathetically perfect Conor in his bid to impress his wife by doing something spontaneous. Yes, it involves the title character. And yes, it works.
While its horror and comedy are more sparse than you might expect for a parody so aware of the tropes it is furthering, Frankie Freako remains faithful to the atmosphere of the 80’s short-lived Gremlins-sploitation scene, and plays its gags well. The use of practical effects everywhere possible has to be commended, a complete commitment to the production methods of the time in its homage really stretches a long way.
As with other Kostanski flicks, it feels like a homemade film, just with the budget to propel it into something bigger. It wears its heart on its sleeve, and it’s a rare thing to find such genuine love for cinema that isn’t tied up in studio meddling. Perhaps it undoes itself through this – there are not a negligible number of scenes that outstay their welcome, feeling a bit slack and awkward, that could have been cut if it went through more rigorous edits. The very fact that they are there for anyone to behold though, is a beautiful thing, and it shows that Kostanski had much more control over the picture in the end than a lot of studio directors might. And I say any film where you can see the human touch and compassion still is a roaring success. For certain, one of my favourite cinema experiences of 2025.
Now, what I have left unsaid though was what came before the film. On that cool Wednesday evening in February, after a not insignificant wait, the schlock fans scrambled to find a good seat in a melee of beards and band t-shirts. After a series of announcements and thank yous to the audience for participating in the opening night of the festival, we proceeded to watch trailers for the festival, specific films, and the sponsor. A personalised message to the festival participants from Steven Kostanski himself is finally played onscreen with Spanish subtitles, including a really sweet thank you to the festival organisers and audience. It was recorded on-set in Japan for his next film, an homage to ninja and samurai films he loves.
Added in for completion and a sleazy atmosphere are a series of exploitation and B-flicks that the veteran audience accompany with narration: every time the title of the film appears on screen, everyone shouts it at the top of their lungs; every time a cast member’s name appears on screen, everyone shouts it at the top of their lungs; every time a tagline appears on screen, everyone shouts it at the top of their lungs.
For the uninitiated (me), it is the single most hilarious thing I’ve heard in my life and I immediately join in. We see the likes of Charles Band film trailers: Evil Bong (2006), Evil Bong 3: Reefer Madness (2011), The Gingerdead Man (2005). The audience, myself included, are loving it. The mood is really set for the festival now, and for virgin festival-goers (me), there is now a sense of comradery among the patrons of Screen 3 in MK2 Paz. More trailers arrive, becoming more tenuous, more questionable, more unknown: Devil Doll (1964), Starship Troopers (1997), Black Devil Doll (2007). Each time the audience shouting and making quips,, often too fast for my shoddy Spanish abilities to catch. More trailers still, so many that I stopped writing them down. The number of those shouting at the screen starts to diminish. Again more – wow, there’s quite a few aren’t there? More trailers – this has to be a mistake, doesn’t it? Another – “Joder!” (Jesus!), “¿¡Qué pasa!?” (What’s happening!?). Yet again, more trailers, accompanied with no shouts at the screen this time, but to the projection booth, and to the organisers, more swearing, more effing and blinding. They say nothing. And then, suddenly, the film!
I made the final count 40 minutes of trailers before the film started. Overall 1 hour and 10 minutes later than our tickets suggested the start time would be. A surreal enough experience even without having borne witness to the weirdness that is a Steven Kostanski film! I feel it might be the best introduction to CutreCon and their ways that I could possibly receive.
Night the 2nd: Conansploitation Double Bill
Deathstalker II (1987, dir. Jim Wynorski)
What a poster, eh!? Looks incredible, right? Well it would be if the film suited it. Please see below the actual protagonists in a screenshot of Deathstalker II. One shaggy-haired Bruce Campbell lookalike and a slightly mousy, dotty woman with an oft-ditzy expression.
This comedy sequel to the straight-fantasy-action of Deathstalker (1983), both Roger Corman-produced, Argentine-American shoots, was almost entirely rewritten on set due to the original script’s poor quality. Judging from the final result, I dread to imagine what reading that must’ve been like. Director Wynorski cast his then-girlfriend Monique Gabrielle in not one but two separate parts due to the dearth of English-speaking skills when on location, adding even more to the tight budget constraints. It begins with the suitably epic title-dropping line as follows:
I’ll have my revenge… and Deathstalker too!
which about sets the tone for the rest of the film. Cue lapping flames overlaying the titlecard and gnarly guitar solo over main theme. Featuring a narrow range of awful puns, slapstick comedy, and scantily-clad female foes, it is groaningly funny. Very much a CutreCon pick for a film in sensibility, and a great example of the Conansploitation micro-genre. And if you love groaning at semi-funny things like I do, it will be very enjoyable.
It was during this screening I was introduced to yet more facets of CutreCon veterans’ vocabulary. During moments of imminent danger, harm, or death, the audience collectively shouts, “¡¡CUIDADO!!” (CAREFUL!!), to warn the characters on screen away from their enemies, as if they can hear them, transforming the cinema into a pantomime theatre. In a film such as Deathstalker II, where danger is all around, you can imagine the mileage we got out of this word.
It is also during this film, that for the first time, that someone leaves halfway through the film to presumably refill their drink, or nip to the loo. A normal thing, something you would expect, even. Not at CutreCon. As their once-comrade walks down the stairs, they are shunned from audience members as they notice: “¡¡COBARDE!!” (COWARD!!). This is something I took great pleasure in myself, and something that I believe should be added to cinema etiquette in the UK, for all screenings, no matter how serious.
The screening is preceded by another personalised clip for festival patrons: Chuck Cirino, the composer of the score for Deathstalker II, telling the story of how Wynorski approached him for the gig, and how, without describing the genre or the vibe of the film in any way, he was forced to make something generic, and how it ended up becoming iconic.
You can see the trailer here.
The Barbarians (1987, dir. Ruggero Deodato)
Another ridiculous entry in the sword and sorcery genre joins us in the form of twin bodybuilders, David and Peter Paul, playing Kutchek and Gore.
Plot takes a backseat, the brothers merely seek revenge on their old foe. The production on this feels far bigger than the previous Deathstalker II, the opening convoy through the Abruzzo Mountains in Italy displaying the prop department’s prowess in decking out a number of carts to be as fantastical as possible. For a moment, I was actually impressed with how it looked! The whole introduction taking me away from the world of Cutre films and lulling me into a false sense of security. And then, the action starts.
It isn’t exactly amateurish, but some tell-tale signs let me know that what I’m witnessing isn’t exactly auteur filmmaking. This moment, (I apologise for the awful resolution in advance – and the Italian language dub, although I promise you aren’t missing a thing with the dialogue gone) where the protagonists are hanged immediately after escaping their original enemies, was one. The extremely loud laugh, succeeded with the utterly bizarre inhale-scream that the brothers both do to one another as some sort of call sign, is the most perplexing acting choice I’ve ever seen that works perfectly for the tone of the film. Let alone the fact that Kutchek, or Gore, who knows really, breaks the noose by the sheer muscle power of his neck. I’ve never laughed harder at a physical gag purely for its insanity and unpredictability.
Night the 3rd: The Emu War
(2023, dir. John Campbell, Lisa Fineberg, and Jay Morrissey)
As with each screening, we have had a new gimmick or treat for the audience to engage in, be it torture by advertisement, or personalised messages to the festival. This screening however, is preceded by a number of giant yoga ball-sized black balloons with the sponsor’s name and website scrawled on the side in silver pen being thrown into the crowd. They are tossed around for the entire length of the proceedings (intro talk, promos for sponsors, merch, trailers, etc.) and even into the beginning of the film instead. Even some excitement is added when a couple of them pop! It didn’t detract from the audience’s focus on the film, believe me.
In 1932, the population of emus in Western Australia had reached over 20,000, causing a major public crisis for farmers and citizens alike. Enter, the Great Emu War. And for us, its recollection on the silver screen in awfully poor taste.
A knowingly bad film in the same leagues as the Mark Polonia’s direct to video CGI-heavy hits Land Shark, Cocaine Shark, Sharkula, and Bigfoot vs Zombies, or Neil Breen’s one-man shows. The addition of reliance on puppetry for all emus present puts this slightly ahead of a 100% CGI film in my views though, and their comedically increased-in-post velocity is just ridiculous. My favourite moment being from an autistic solider (+1 for the film’s representation!) using his “Asperger’s powers” to defeat the Emus. I’ll leave it to your imagination. It is perhaps the lowest quality film present at the festival.
Not the suicide shed!
The dialogue is the worst offender for me. The myriad lines to choose from really spoiled me, and unfortunately, as it is so recently released, there are few clips for me to post to enlighten you further.
* * *
And that’s it! My experience at CutreCon XIV summarised. Having been working during the length of the festival, and my budget being stretched quite thin during this time in Madrid, I didn’t attend as many screenings as I would’ve liked, or get myself any merchandise, but suffice to say I’m converted. Having ranted and raved to my girlfriend about this too, who, at the time, was busy with research, I managed to convince her too (quite easy as a schlocky, crap horror fan, who loves Reel Steel and Celluloid Screams back in Sheffield). We are making plans to attend for CutreCon XV to say the least.
A slightly more colloquial entry, and a subject unlike my other reviews and posts, but one I hope is a welcome bit of variety. Thanks for reading.
The Mezzanine 