They're not staying down there, anymore!

Year of Release: 1984
Genre: Horror
Rated: R
Running Time: 96 minutes (1:36)
Director: Douglas Cheek


John Heard ... George Cooper
Daniel Stern ... A.J. 'The Reverend' Shepherd
Christopher Curry ... Captain Bosch
Kim Greist ... Lauren Daniels
George Martin ... Wilson
Eddie Jones ... Chief O'Brien
Ruth Maleczech ... Mrs. Monroe
J.C. Quinn ... Murphy
John Goodman ... Cop in Diner
Jay Thomas ... Cop in Diner
Lou Leccese ... CHUD
Sanford Clark ... CHUD
James Dudley ... CHUD
Carey Eidel ... CHUD


Beneath the streets of New York City, there are hundreds of miles of subterranean tunnels unfit for anything human, unauthorized for anything experimental, and unlikely to come to the surface... until now. Something horrible is loose in the sewers of Manhattan, and the city's homeless population have begun to mutate into 'Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers.' They are C.H.U.D. - hideous, hungry, and headed for the streets!


C.H.U.D., remindin' us that when there's no more room in Hell, people'll just start livin' underneath it. I guess I'm just never gonna understand the appeal of livin' in a place like NYC. But to be fair, livin' beneath it can't be much worse than livin' in it. I suppose either way you're gonna be dealin' with disgustin', diseased rats, an on the plus side, at least the ones below ground won't try takin' your wallet. An sure, it can be a little repulsive an downright stanky down there, but it's still not half as bad as bein' inside a theater on 42nd Street when the lights come up an you realize what that stuff you sat in was. I'll even concede that you'll prolly be stuck with some mentally disturbed neighbors who smear their own fecal matter on each other to hide their heat signatures from the Predator, but it's not like the tourists from Cornhole, Nebraska runnin' around Central Park smell any better, so what the heck. But speakin' of people who wear trench coats into theaters, when you think about it, this movie's essentially Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles if Splinter never got slopped with the mutagen an achieved the sentience necessary to keep the turtles' murderous teenage impulses occupied with tiresome backflips an learnin' to catch flies with chopsticks. After all, if not for Splinter's calmin' influence, you think for one second they wouldn't be out roamin' the streets in search of pizza boys to mug so they could rip off their faces an use 'em for toppins? Its actually pretty interestin' to consider how things might've come out completely different with even the slightest of tweaks in a movie. For instance, would anyone have taken Christine the least bit seriously if the spirit were hauntin' a '57 Rambler Cross Country instead of a '58 Plymouth Fury? Might the bulk of the cast in The Thing have survived if Liberty Medical weren't air liftin' in Wilford Brimley's diabetes testin' supplies right to his door, with no charge for shippin', even in Antarctica? An what would've happened if they'd cast Tim Curry in full Frank N. Furter regalia, instead of Camille Keaton in I Spit on Your Grave? Deep, deep questions. Just don't think on 'em too hard, cause this is the dark path that Hollywood screenwriters tread before comin' up with the plot outlines for alla these rotten, sacrilegious reboots that're currently plaguin' our theater screens. Remember, you must only use these scraps of knowledge for fun, never for obscene profits. An just for the record, if any of these ideas end up in a movie on the Syfy network, my personal attorney, Cletus Rubenstein, assures me that I'll own everything they've got, includin' Tara Reid.

I'm sorry about bringin' up the S word like that, an I hope nobody had to dip into their bottle of Prozac just now, cause C.H.U.D. really is a great movie an I don't want anybody leavin' to go eat a coupla pints of Tillamook ice cream til the pain subsides before I can go into the important details of why it's such a masterpiece of golden age cinema. In fact, I'll go so far as to say that its prolly the greatest sewer epic since Alligator to feature half the grown up cast of Home Alone. This movie's got it all together, an here, for your consideration, are a few choice wedges of wisdom offa the cheese platter. First, always keep somethin' solid between yourself an anybody who's lackin' in personal hygiene an quotes scripture, otherwise there's prolly gonna be a shankin' in your future. Conversely, if they're clean an impeccably dressed while quotin' scripture, keep one hand on your wallet at all times. Second, while it may be true that people really don't communicate much anymore, sometimes that really isn't anybody's fault. For instance, say you're in a phone booth an a slobber monster hops up outta the sewer an slurps your jugular vein down like a spaghetti noodle. These things just happen sometimes. An third, government shadow projects always brand the name of said project onto evidence that can be tied to said project. Sure, it gets 'em indicted every now an then, but can you imagine tryin' to keep track of all those felonies without a labelin' system? For fuck's sake Dustin Hoffman couldn't keep it all straight.

But the thing that really fractures my frank about this one is the way nobody seems capable of actin' decent when they go out to eat anymore. I mean, if it ain't glopola monsters showin' up an eatin' the patrons, it's yard monsters comin' in after soccer practice cleatin' their matrons. You know what I'm talkin' about, those "parents" who haven't mastered the finer points of birth control or discipline which invariably leaves you sittin' there listenin' to their kid screamin' for 20 minutes about how they didn't get the right Happy Meal toy. Meanwhile, the mother essentially ignores it an maybe occasionally chimes in with "oh, now you stop that", cause by this point in 'er life 'er boobs're saggin' down into 'er socks an 'er thighs undulate like a lava lamp anytime there's a strong breeze an this's the only way she can get anybody to look at 'er anymore. So after awhile the vein in your forehead ends up bustin' like a wine glass at the opera an you're left with no choice but to pour the ice from your Dr. Pepper down the back of the little punk's shirt til all the old people in the place get P.O.'d an tell the manager an you end up gettin' banned from the Playland ball room. You know the ones, those dried up old coots who say things like "awww, but he's little" an "him just needs a nap" anytime the little bastard hits ya in the face with a pickle from across the dinin' area because havin' kids around makes 'em nostalgic for the days when their own children returned their calls. Well, guess what Nana? I ain't sorry you had to see that, an I ain't sorry I stood up for a just cause. An as for you fry shakers (I won't name names, but you know who you are), I ain't apologizin' for those bite marks neither. Sides, it's not like you don't all come to work with only slightly less noticeable versions all over your necks everyday anyhow. Cripes, you give some people an "assistant manager" title an they turn into a fascist.

The movie begins with this dame walkin 'er dog down the streets of NYC at night to see if its bladder'll pop like a water balloon before they can find a patch of grass for it to piss on til she stops by a manhole for a second an this big gnarly arm reaches out an drags the both of 'em down into the bowel movements of the city. The next day, this creeper with a hobo fetish (George) is takin' pictures of homeless people waitin' to see if they own a refrigerator so he can prove that they aren't really poor til his phone rings an his editor tells 'im that Fox News is breathin' down his neck an that he's gotta have the pictures to go with their next article or else they're gonna send Greta Van Susteren over to pole dance. But about that time George's girlfriend (Lauren) comes in an tells 'im to put on somethin' a little more tasteful than the wife beater that looks like a crunchy sock that came out from under a 14 year old's bed so they can go down to the studio an shoot the perfume ad she's gettin' nekkid for til he gets this look on his face like a hipster trapped inside Wal Mart. Then Lauren goes downstairs to dig 'er crucifix outta storage so the director won't think she's short on the "t" portion of the modelin' equation an passes the landlady who heads outside an gets the bejezus scared out of 'er by the All Knowin' Trash Heap. Least she thinks it's the All Knowin' Trash Heap, til whatever it is bolts down a sink hole the size of Mamie Van Doren's concussion grenades. Elsewhere, Captain Bosch is over at the police station talkin' to Police Chief Jim Ross on the phone tellin' 'im he can't keep "keep a lid on this any longer" til Jim tells 'im that bah gawd he'll keep the lid on whatever it is for as long as he tells 'im to or he'll come over there an beat 'im like a government mule. Then Bosch goes to interrogate this bag lady (Mrs. Monroe) who tried to steal a gun offa one of his men til he decides to lock 'er up for lookin' too much like a homeless Ellen Burstyn. Meanwhile, George is over on the perfume set with Lauren havin' an existential crisis about how Lauren's suction cups're bein' used by capitalist pig dogs to hock Whorebath brand toilet water til he goes an checks his messages an hears one from the bag lady that Bosch locked up for bein' an accessory to pea soup assault an goes to spring 'er. While that's goin' on, Bosch heads out to ask Daniel Stern (A.J.) about the report he filed regardin' the regulars at his soup kitchen vanishin' quicker'n a bag of shrooms at a Gathering of the Juggalos. So Daniel tells 'im that it's just his mole people who live underground in the abandoned subway tunnels that're missin' an points to the one lone survivor (Val) who looks like The Reaper from The Hills Have Eyes Part II after six months of no sleep. Course, Val's crazier'n Gary Busey on bath salts, an ends up tryin' to shank Bosch when he gets too close to his bowl of hobo chicken an Bosch decides to go check in at the station so he he don't get fired an have to share a subterranean condo with Val.

Elsewhere, George bails Monroe outta the Crossbar Hotel an she takes 'im down to the Paradise Shitty where 'er bro's gangrened an the girls are gritty so he can take a look at 'er brother's partially digested leg that looks like a regurgitated can of Dinty Moore stew. Then Victor (her brother) tells 'im he needs the gun to shoot the "ugly fuckers" an George gets this look on his face like he's tryin' to figure out why Victor wants to the members of KISS dead. Meanwhile, Bosch goes back down to Daniel's scruffay buffet line an by now Daniel's real paranoid about the fact that anyone other'n Sally Struthers gives a damn about poor people an once he tells 'im as much Bosch has to admit that his wife's disappeared like sterlin' silver flatware at a Kleptoholics Anonymous meetin'. So now Daniel feels sorry for 'im an takes a look at the pictures Bosch brought an identifies a coupla his regulars for 'im before makin' like Hannibal Lector an quid pro quoin' Bosch about the EPA probe that's goin' on down below. Seems its been goin' on longer'n the drum solo from In A Gadda Da Vida, plus when Daniel went down below to leave some Fancy Feast out for the guys who missed dinner cause they hadda be outside Kmart with those "The End is Near" posters durin' the Midnight Madness sale, he found a Geiger counter. Then he an Bosch head down into the Mines of Goria an when they turn the Geiger on it starts goin' off like Phil Robertson at a gay pride parade an pretty quick the MGM lion starts roarin' in the distance an they both get this look on their faces like not alla the urine smell they're experiencin' is comin' from the sewer. Elsewhere, George finally comes home lookin' like he just lost a nude mud wrestlin' match with Pigpen an, figurin' that he clearly ain't depressed enough, Lauren chooses this moment to tell 'im she's havin' his doughy hipster baby. Unfortunately, things're a lot less cheerful down the street, where this old man an his granddaughter're in a phone booth dialin' down the center with 1-800-CALL-ATT til this glopola monster with nuclear halogen eyeballs climbs up outta the sewer an tears gramps apart like Hulk Hogan in a T-shirt factory. The next mornin', Bosch comes into the station an gets briefed about the little girl who's reenactin' the opening sequence of Them! an claimin' a monster ate 'er Grampa. So Bosch starts stickin' so many cops on street corners that the pimps end up havin' to declare a state of emergency an pull their hookers clear back to New Jersey, before callin' up Jim an demandin' a meetin' with the mayor an the EPA an threatenin' to tell Weekly World News about what's goin' on if they don't show up. Then he grabs Daniel an his evidence an they head to George's place (knowing he's been down in the sewer because of his newspaper articles) to see if he's got anything that might help 'em out, only he's off shootin' a Christian Children's Fund ad someplace an so they break in an find his pics of Victor's half eaten drum stick an pray they'll be admissible in court.

Unfortunately, after the head gauncho (Wilson) finally quits makin' like the 4 Non Blondes an screamin' at the top of his lungs about what's goin' on an who the heck Bosch an Daniel think they are for draggin' 'im away from his A-Team marathon, they still aren't able to get the shitty council to believe anything they're sayin'. So then Daniel gets P.O.'d an starts shovin' the pics of Victor's boneless leg of Spam in their faces an Wilson finally admits that he's storin' glow stick fillin' under the city til his contract negotiations with the guy who runs the underground rave scene pan out an he can get rid of it. Course they're still not buyin' the stuff about the monsters, an so Daniel starts throwin' shit all over the room like a chimp in the primate exhibit an storms outta there to find Joe Pesci so they can knock over Wilson's house. But Bosch picks up a notebook that got thrown across the room like a Nolan Ryan fastball an finds the acronym C.H.U.D. on it an everybody starts lookin' at Wilson like they just caught 'im countin' cards in a poker game til the phone rings an he gets the news that the monster's been found dead in the sewer an that Tim Curry's been brought in for questioning. Elsewhere, this journalist who looks like he's misplaced his surf board (Murphy) comes up to George while he an Lauren're fightin' in the park about who gets to keep their life once the baby's born an tells 'im the cops had a tail on 'im the day before an that he wants his help comin' up with a story on the underground people so he can make enough money to get his Beach Boys albums outta hock, an George has to tell 'im to go ride a pounder an get his beach bunny haircut outta his face. Meanwhile, Bosch an the big wigs go look at the dead slobber monster an poke it with a stick to make sure it's really dead, only Bosch thinks there're more of 'em an wants to send the Super Mario Brothers down there to Roto-Root the remainin' brutes in their corn chutes but Wilson forbids it. Course, Bosch does it anyway an gets about a dozen guys with flame throwers down into the sewer with Wilson's own men an pretty quick their Geiger counter starts lightin' up like Bob Marley at a jam session an the glopola monsters make like Dragonforce an charge right through the fire and flames til the camera feed craps out. While that's goin' on, George an Lauren go home an George notices his Vic pics're missin' an assumes Murphy busted in like the Kool Aid Man an stole 'em, so he calls up Murphy an arranges a meetin'. A few blocks away, Daniel finally gets back to his slop shop lookin' like somebody lit 'im on fire an had to beat out the flames with a pipe wrench til Bosch steps out an scares the bejezus out of 'im an tells 'im that they found the thing that's been eatin' his nohomies an that Wilson's plannin' to flood the sewers with gas like Jessica Simpson in a Fisher Price crawl tunnel an Daniel just kinda shrugs an tells 'im he's gotta get ready for the dinner rush.

Only a coupla minutes later the gas goes off on Daniel's Coleman cook stove an he gets this look on his face like he just woke up next to Sandra Bernhard an heads down into the sewer to get Val outta there before his hair ignites an starts a five alarm grease fire. Unfortunately, when he an Val try gettin' out, the guy who roughed Daniel up an stole his evidence slams the cellar door shut on Val, causin' Humpty Grumpty to have a great fall an bust his head open like Mick Foley in a steel cage match before padlockin' the door shut. Meanwhile, George goes to meet Murphy who tells 'im he didn't take his pictures an convinces 'im to come down into the stink tunnel with 'im an promises that if he don't like it that he won't have to go all the way. But it ain't long before Murphy gets jerked into a tight spot an has alla his bodily fluids gush out til the sewer's bloodier'n the bathroom floor at Quickie's Casual Sincounters Night Club on drag queen night when The Hells Angels stop in for a beer. Back up topside, Lauren's throwin' 'er Precious Memories photo album down into the cellar after realizin' she's never gonna look as good as she does now once the kid's born til she thinks better of it an goes to retrieve it an finds a suicidal lap dog that hanged itself with its own leash. So she calls the NYC police department about the dead dog an they promise to get right on it once they get the 286 murders that happened in the last two hours investigated an then hops in the shower where the drain gets clogged up worse than Ruben Studdard's arteries til she tries takin' a wire hanger to the clog an blood starts shootin' out like the shower's on its menstrual cycle. Elsewhere, Bosch heads down to the pier where alla the storm drains empty into the harbor to see if there're any C.H.U.D. hookers down there an finds his wife's severed head stuck in the mud like a low rider in the Everglades an decides to go get stinko.

Back in subterranean Detroit, Daniel stumbles upon a buncha C.H.U.D.s splashin' around in some toxic waste barrels like Melvin Junko til he stumbles again an kicks some rocks down an embankment an they catch wind of his Old Spice aftershave an he has to run like he just woke up after an orgy an saw six different women with mornin' sickness. A short distance away, George has his own problems, an hauls butt over to Mrs. Monroe an Victor's bunghole scented bungalow where he finds a heap of corpses an Victor lookin' like he just ate an entire box of Alka Seltzer tablets an ends up havin' to cap 'im when he tries tearin' off George's face to patch up his missin' calf muscle. Then Monroe waffles 'im with a skillet a la Baby Sinclair for killin' 'er radioactive relation an Daniel shows up just in time to save the day an heroically bludgeon the old woman an haul George's carcass outta there. By this point, Bosch's been thrown outta the bar for depressin' everybody durin' what was supposed to be happy hour, an so he wanders over to the area that Wilson's got cordoned off an curses 'im out before tryin' to explain to 'im that he's gonna wipe out not just the C.H.U.D.s, but also the Ninja Turtles, Pennywise, an Oswald Cobblepot with his scorched earth policy. Meanwhile, Lauren's broken out 'er emergency haz-mat decontamination kit an gotten most of the drain pipe AIDS scrubbed off with Ajax an a Brillo paid an heads out into the livin' room where she sees what's goin' on on TV an gets this look on 'er face like she's in a hot tub fulla people an some bubbles just broke the surface directly in front of 'er. Unfortunately, when she bolts for the door to warn Wilson that he's givin' 'er man the world's worst dutch oven, she runs into one of the Fallout Boys in the stairwell an has to barricade 'erself in the apartment an pray for Greenpeace to come pull 'er butt outta the fire. Cutting here to save the ending.

5.4, IMDB? You never fail to disappoint. I've actually heard a few people say they like the second one better, which pretty much causes me to get the look that David Silverman had when Bill O'Reilly told 'im that you couldn't explain why the tide comes in and goes out. Well, maybe it's not *that* crazy. But anyone that values a certain degree of seriousness in a horror movie is going to prefer the first, while anyone that enjoys cartoonish cheese will undoubtedly prefer the second. I can see how people might find this one a little talky, and how one could make the argument that there's way too much plot gettin' in the way of the story, but I feel that it really comes together well nonetheless. C.H.U.D. is a movie that I consider to be genuinely good, and not just a fun horror flick. There's a lot going on at times, and the movie jumps around like House of Pain after 9 hits of speed, but I think that actually helps with the scenes where things get a little too chatty. They never leave you in one place long enough to get bored, and unlike a lot of particularly bad movies where they're spending large amounts time on things other than monsters eating people's gall bladders, this one actually spends it on character development, so by the end you actually give a shit about what happens to them. I really don't understand how anybody can not like this one, because it's good enough on its own merits to impress a genre fan, and still cheesy enough to entertain the kinda person who can't take any horror movie seriously. And you could certainly never say that the movie is lacking in atmosphere. Between the shooting locations and an immensely effective soundtrack, it's second to few in terms of having its own distinctive aura. So, when you take into account all the aspects of a movie that are generally used to poke holes in it, you end up with only one partially punched hole. The special effects are a little hit and miss, but still manage to have more good than bad ones. I dunno, maybe it's just me, but I find this one to be damned under-rated, even before the diner sequence near the end where John Goodman and Jay Thomas hit on the waitress like nervous high school guys til the C.H.U.D.s show up and turn everybody into meat loaf.

Well then, lets hose this thing down with glow stick juice til it glows in the dark an has no secrets. The plot is enjoyable, and is serious while maintaining an acceptable level of "fun". Other than the time-tested "radiation turns otherwise normal things into icky goop monsters" aspect, you've got a pretty well grounded story with regular people tryin' to figure out what in the Hell, Michigan's goin' on before the slobber monsters eat too many important people. The government conspiracy aspect isn't particularly original either, but the combination of the two makes for a likable story. The acting is really good, by horror movie standards, with several members of the cast eventually making something of themselves so they wouldn't have to do these kinds of movies anymore. To be fair, both John Heard and Daniel Stern have spoken fondly of their experiences in shooting the movie on the commentary track, so they're not the kinda guys to turn around and pretend they're better than this kinda flick. Both Heard and Daniels are fantastic in their roles, as is Christopher Curry as the strung out, anxiety ridden Chief Bosch. Kim Griest is alright, and more than alright to look at, but she really shines in the sequence where the glopola monster's tryin' to bust into 'er apartment an she's got 'er head out the window screamin' it off. She's a great screamer.

I think of this cast, only the pre Roseanne John Goodman is famous enough to warrant a pass on the resumes, so here's everybody else that matters: John Heard (Sharknado, The Seventh Sign, Cat People 1982), Daniel Stern (Leviathan), Christopher Curry (Red Dragon, Starship Troopers), Kim Griest (Shriek if You Know What I Did Last Friday the 13th, Manhunter, Brazil), Vic Polizos (Graveyard Shift, Night of the Creeps), Eddie Jones (The New Kids, Q: The Winged Serpent), Sam McMurray (Killer Pad, Lake Placid 2), J.C. Quinn (The Abyss, Maximum Overdrive, Buried Alive II, The Prophecy, Twisted), Patricia Richardson (Christmas Evil), Ray Baker (Total Recall 1990, Alien Siege, Area 52, Ed Wood, Freaked, Nightmare), Graham Beckel (Battlestar Galactica: Razor, Helter Skelter 2004, Lost in the Bermuda Triangle, Amerika), Gene O'Neill (The Stuff), Bill Raymond (12 Monkeys, The Crow, Golden Years, Christmas Evil), Peter Michael Goetz (King Kong Lives, Wolfen), John Bedford Lloyd (The Abyss), Robert Toupin (Martyrs), Frankie Faison (The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, Red Dragon, Manhunter, Maximum Overdrive, Cat People 1982), Ivar Brogger (The Poughkeepsie Tapes), Hallie Foote (Paranormal Activity 3 & 4), Jon Polito (Rock Monster, Mimic 2, Tale of the Mummy, Invasion 1997, The Invaders 1995, The Crow, Highlander), Carey Eidel (The Lost World: Jurassic Park), Dan Campbell (The Attic), Kelly Nichols (The Toolbox Murders 1978), Jan Saint (Jacob's Ladder, Frankenhooker, Basket Case 2, Death by Invitation). You culturally contemptible people out there will likely recognize John Heard as the Dad from Home Alone 1 & 2, Dr. Kaufman in Awakenings, and as Paul in Big. Daniel Stern was the voice of Dilbert from the TV series of the same name, Fred Savage's inner monologue on The Wonder Years, Phil Barquist from City Slickers 1 & 2, Shrevie Schreiber in Diner, and of course, the lovably incompetent Marv from Home Alone 1 & 2. Additionally, Kim Griest played the mother in the two Homeward Bound movies and Beth in Throw Mama from the Train, Michael O'Hare was Ambassador Jeffrey Sinclair in the Babylon 5 series, and Eddie Jones would be best known for his roles as Salchak in The Terminal, Charles Bordan in The Invisible Man TV series, and Jonathan Kent in Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. Sam McMurray was the voice of Roy on Dinosaurs, Walter Boyett in Turner and Hooch, and Jim in Barfly, Patricia Richardson was Jill Taylor in the Home Improvement TV series and Dr. Andy Campbell on Strong Medicine, Peter Goetz played John MacKenzie in the two Father of the Bride movies, Frankie Faison would likely be remembered from a coupla TV series where he played Commissioner Ervin Burrell from The Wire, and Sugar Bates in Banshee. Jay Thomas portrayed Bill Meister in Mr. Holland's Opus, Eddie LeBec on Cheers, Jerry Gold on Murphy Brown, and Remo Davinci on Mork and Mindy. Jon Polito went on to be cast as Casper in Miller's Crossing, Creighton Tolliver in The Man Who Wasn't There, and Lou Breeze in Barton Fink. James Dudley might be remembered as an in ring personal from the WWF, wherein he managed Bobo Brazil.

The special effects are about 70% positive, 30% negative. For the most part, the creatures look pretty good, but some shots from certain angles aren't real flattering. Then you've got things like severed heads, where one is absolutely terrible, and another looks great. The strangled dog in the cellar isn't real hot either. Additionally, you've got the mangled leg effect which is really well done, and another element that might otherwise get glossed over, which is the make up and the costuming on the homeless characters. The costume designers and make up artists did an excellent job. Alotta times you watch a movie with homeless characters and they've got Christie Brinkley's teeth and excellent footwear, not here. These people look like they really could be homeless, and that adds something to the movie that's necessary for its overall believability. The shooting locations are fantastic, as one piece of promotional material reads, the bulk was; "shot on and beneath the streets of New York City", which gives it a gritty realistic look that a lot of movies try to achieve but fail to. Sanitarily speaking, C.H.U.D. is probably one of the dirtiest movies you'll ever see in terms of the amount of real life grime encountered, which, again, brings an air of realism to it that helps lift it to heights unmatched by the settings of many other horror films. And the soundtrack? Top notch. Its got a lot of 80s synth tracks in it, but they're all weird enough as to enhance any scene in which they're playing. It's dark, tense, and unsettling in all the right places. The fact that it's as good as it is makes up for the fact that it might be slightly overused and a little repetitive at times. One of my favorite soundtracks from any movie, bar none. Overall, C.H.U.D. is an under-rated classic, and one that's easy to recommend as a blind buy to any horror fan that's 30 or older, check it out a coupla times.

Rating: 85%