Like father, like son, they always say.  Director Anthony Hickox, whose father was responsible for the old Vincent Price black comedy/thriller Theater Of Blood, takes his shot with a mildly offensive but peculiarly funny movie that can best be described like watching a Hammer film omnibus on diet pills.

Neither a cliche or an opportunity for a dead body is missed with one-liners, blood and dismembered hands coming at us from all parts of the screen.  College students are invited for a "special" midnight showing at the Waxwork (the fact it isn't pluralized annoys the hell out of me) owned by David (The Omen) Warner.  Warner has his Tatoo-like Bulter played by Michu (once billed as the world's smallest man) who clicks his heels like a mini Gestapo and looks like pending Secretary Of The Defense, John Tower.

The wax exhibits featuring the who's who of horror come to life (did you think otherwise?), and the students drop off the face of the earth to become parts of the exhibit according to each monster's whimsy.  The dinger, here, is that once each ghoul has claimed his particular victim, the whole exhibit will come to life to take over creation.  But not if Patrick Macnee who plays a dingy, wheelchair bound adventurer has any say in the matter.

My only complaint (and this happens a lot in films of this type) is that the most intriguing character gets knocked off way too early.  In this case, it's breathtakingly sexy Michelle Johnson who struts around campus in black cocktail dresses and high heels and mouths enough sexual innuendo to give the Marine Corps collective penis erectus.  Alas, Johnson busy the farm, courtesy Dracula, way too soon. The erotic Marquis de Sade sequence in which dimpled Deborah Foreman (Valley Girl) tastes the kiss of the lash assuredly puts this in the class of adult viewing. It might be a little strong for some tastes, but if you have an absurdist's point of view and crave the horror genre, you might just rank this film a classic.