Uncle Peckerhead
directed by Matthew John Lawrence
starring David Littleton, Chet Siegel, David Bluvband, Adam R. Brown, Ryan Conrath
Subl-Trex Productions
Just when, exactly, should a young woman ride with a homeless guy living in a van painted with a “Free Candy” sign? Maybe when her car is towed, and she needs to get her little punk band out for a glorious six night tour to towns even she never heard of. Judy (Chet Siegel) might make it in punk rock: her band “DUH” is ready for its big break out, but with no car, there is no tour. What to do…what band skills might apply here? Well, what does every start up band excel at? Flyering. They flyer the neighborhood and luck out: Creepy Uncle Peckerhead (David Littleton) not only lives in his van, he’s willing to roadie for Judy and her friends the band if they throw him a few bucks. His gruff exterior hides a gentle man who’s only vice is cannibalism, and he only does that for 13 minutes exactly at midnight. After Uncle Peckerhead devours a few cranky club owners, this little circus settle down to a routine. But a guy’s gotta eat, and as the tour rolls on the snarkiness and bloody violence escalate to the point where guitarist Max (Jeff Riddle) asks: “What’s with him, anyway?” Well, you can only eat so many promoters before the police notice, and soon everyone is arrested, but we still find a happy ending. Roadies like Uncle Peck are what keeps bands moving.
This rock and roll road movie provides a delicious blend of bad luck, a chance for Judy make it slightly larger than she is now, bloody body parts, and punk rock. The easy living and desperate search for a sandwich clings close to the realities of touring a no-name band in no-name venues. The stress forges camaraderie in band, and Uncle Peck is their key to success. He’s a true philosopher: when asked “How do people taste?” he thinks a moment and replies: “Some people taste like dog shit, and others taste like watermelon sherbet.” You’re in a special world here, or more properly two worlds – that of beginning bands in a brutal battle to rise to the next level of crappy, and excitement of making music that matters, at least to you. Does the music matter here? No, of course not. What matters here is the brutal delight the filmmaker take is spewing blood and guts and comedy all over everyone in the venue. You’ll need more than N-95 respirator to keep this black comedy from infecting your laugh glands.
This film was presented as part of the 2020 Florida Film Festival.
