Reel Review: The Weedhacker Massacre (2025)

If deeply unserious fun is your cup of tea, “The Weedhacker Massacre” goes down easy with heartfelt gumption and campy humor that lands.

Let’s get this out of the way now: if you watch an ultra-low-budget film called The Weedhacker Massacre, you should be prepared for the level of cinematic sophistication you’re tuning into—which is to say, virtually none at all.

That’s not an insult; in this case, it’s a badge of honor. This is a film that makes no pretense about what it’s bringing to the table, and it’s damn delightful if you’re craving what it’s serving up.

We begin with a silly but amusing introduction that sets up the sordid tale of the Gunter family, purveyors of the wildly popular Gunter Ganja, the market leader for over 100 years. Their killer crop made their hometown of Red Eye the illegal weed capital of Texas

In a documentary-style interview clip, we meet the ridiculously named Sheriff Danzinshoos, played by Allen Danzinger, who famously appeared in Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre as Sally Hardesty’s boyfriend, Jerry.

Danzinger co-created the film with writer Ray Spivey, and he also executive-produced the film directed by Jody Stelzig.

Right away, it’s clear that the filmmakers are really leaning into their resource limitations and having fun with it, with intentionally cheesy special effects. It’s an absurdist farce that doesn’t take itself too seriously.

However, the real magic begins when our intrepid hero enters the scene, Willy Wonder (David Trevino).

Sporting the most bonkers mane of long, black jerry-curled hair you’ve ever seen (an obvious, intentionally bad wig that instantly invokes the giggles), he swaggers onto the scene with his very own theme song accompanying him, “The Ballad of WeedHacker Willie”.

(Seriously, this song is pure brilliance and worth the price of admission alone. It’s written and performed by the wildly talented Britton Buchanan, who was the runner-up on The Voice when he was just 18 years old. Buchanan does the music for the film, and it’s pitch-perfect.)

Willie has arrived in Red Eye on the outskirts of the Gunter farm to attend a flop music festival with some friends. After some coeds coo about how luscious his locks are, he meets and is immediately smitten by a reporter, Candy Kersey (Molly Sakonchick).

But their meet cute is savagely interrupted by some mask-wearing, murderous Gunters convinced the festival organizers are trying to steal their weed.

They’ve enlisted the help of the dimwitted, hulking, weedwhacker-wielding Poker Face, so named for the homemade mask made out of poker cards he wears—resembling something a child would make in art class. He speaks in monosyllabic words and grunts like Frankenstein’s monster.

Among the carnage from the massacre, Poker Face finds an unconscious Willy. He tries to bash his head in with a rock, but Willy’s impenetrable helmet hair saves him. This delights Poker Face, who decides to kidnap Willy and make him his new best friend.

We then fast forward ten years, and an amnesiac Willie is living in the woods with Poker Face. 

A film crew has arrived on the scene to film yet another remake of the Weedhacker Massacre story. Candy, who survived the massacre, is on set as a consultant. Her scheming therapist, Dr. Wu, told her it would be good for her recovery, but he’s really there to collect a paycheck.

Willie stumbles upon the set and sees an actor playing him. He then realizes everyone thinks he slaughtered all those college kids. Meanwhile, the Gunters are flat broke, having lost their weed and their fortune. They are hell-bent on making the film crew quit and leave, worried it will bring Poker Face back. Shenanigans ensue.

Along the way, we get an unlikely romance, an even unlikelier friendship, and a clever “Origin of Poker Face” segment—shot in black and white—that makes our psycho a sympathetic character. There’s also plenty of funny inside baseball commentary on the trials and tribulations of low-budget filmmaking.

Maybe it’s because I’m a lifelong Texas girl and have a soft spot for redneck horror from the deep, dirty South. Maybe it’s because my heart bleeds for Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and it’s hard not to be charmed by a film that pays such considerable homage to one of the greatest horror films of all time. Or maybe it’s because I find it hard not to be endeared by DIY passion projects with a wry sense of self-aware humor.

Whatever the reason, I had quite a bit of fun with The Weedhacker Massacre. It’s definitely not for everyone, but I suspect if you’re interest is piqued by a film called The Weedhacker Massacre, you may be susceptible to its goofy charms.

If you enjoy healthy doses of camp, cheese, and cringeworthy comedy with your horror, it makes for a fun watch—especially if you’ve got some Gunter Ganja on hand.