Shelf Rot is where I give some overdue attention to the movies that may not be the newest release but still have plenty left to offer. Whether they’ve lingered in my collection for years or I’m just overdue for a rewatch, it’s a reminder that the best films aren’t always the newest ones — sometimes they’re the ones waiting patiently on the shelf.
I bought this blind based on the name of the movie alone. Girlfriend from Hell is the kind of title that crawls out of a late-night cable lineup and nestles directly into your frontal lobe. Also: the cover art rules, it came with a slipcover that looked like it was designed in a possessed mall photo booth, and Culture Shock Releasing always feels like they’re saving weird, forgotten VHS chaos from total extinction.
Let’s get this out of the way: Girlfriend from Hell is barely a horror movie. It’s a supernatural teen sex comedy that just so happens to have a scene where a guy basically gets obliterated by charisma. It feels like a mix between a late-’80s T&A comedy and a demon-possession spoof written by someone who only half-understood The Exorcist and was mostly horny. This is chaotic neutral with a body count.
The plot: a nerdy girl gets possessed by the Devil (as you do), suddenly becomes hot and evil, and starts zapping people and collecting souls while wearing way too much lip gloss. A trenchcoat-wearing interdimensional bounty-hunter named Chaser (of course) is hunting her down while trying to explain the plot to anyone who will listen. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.
But the tone? That’s the magic. It’s snarky, surreal, and barely connected to reality. Characters teleport. Gunfights break out in diners. People die, come back, or get seduced via finger lasers. The dialogue is trashy in the most quotable way possible. You keep waiting for it to get worse, but instead it just gets weirder.
Let’s talk about the lead actress: Liane Curtis (aka the possessed girlfriend). She is perfect. Her delivery hits somewhere between sarcastic valley girl and demonic lounge singer. Every line sounds like she’s seconds away from either melting your face or making out with your boyfriend. Possibly both. She carries the entire movie with deadpan smirks and evil eyebrow acting.
The bounty hunter I mentioned earlier? Yeah, that’s Dana Ashbrook — Bobby Briggs himself. He strolls onto the screen, and my entire universe imploded. How did I not know he was in this? One second I’m vibing with some campy, chaotic horror-comedy, and the next I’m bracing for him to start dramatically yelling about Laura Palmer. Seeing him here, in all his 1989 glory, felt like the multiverse cracked open just for me. Twin Peaks and Girlfriend From Hell existing in the same reality? My horror nerd brain may never recover.
In terms of the release, the transfer is way better than this movie probably deserves—but that’s why boutique labels rule. It looks crisp, colorful, and gloriously cheap. Like a forgotten MTV pilot that went too far. You can almost smell the hairspray and melted cheese. Packaging-wise, Culture Shock did this up right. The slipcover art is pure neon-trash heaven, and the reverse artwork makes it look like a cursed rom-com. Menus are clean, extras are weird, and the overall presentation just screams “We love this dumb thing, and you should too.”
Special features include interviews, a commentary, and at least one person trying to explain what the hell this movie is actually about. They fail. But they try. Respect.
Would I recommend you buy it? 100%. This is exactly the kind of unhinged cult gold I want taking up shelf space between Surf Nazis Must Die and Rock ‘n’ Roll Nightmare. It’s not a “great” movie. It’s not a scary movie. It’s a VHS memory of a fever dream, preserved beautifully and sent back to us in slipcover form.
Rating: 3 out of 5 interdimensional trenchcoat Bobby Briggs.
Because sometimes “WTF was that?” is exactly the reaction you want.
