Imagine if you will, a scene:

Two young filmmakers follow the lonely two-lane highway to a small Central Texas town, turning off into the dusty parking lot in front of the town’s only bar. They saunter inside, unnoticed by the crowd of wrinkled and weathered moonshiners, unwelcomed by the surly barmaid, crossing the ancient wood floor crushing peanut shells all the way. Suddenly, one of the young men jumps onto a chair; clinking bottles are silenced, idle chatter and hearty laughter dies down into a whispered murmur, and clever eyes peer out of hoary faces anxious to hear the young man’s declaration.

“Hello everyone.” The young man speaks clearly, smiles warmly. “My friend and I have recently uncovered the lost diary of Dale S. Rogers, and we want to make a movie. Who wants to be in it?”

Now I’m not sure if this is exactly how Duane Graves and Justin Meeks recruited their “actors” for The Wild Man of the Navidad, but I like to think it is. These guys are either the worst actors ever…or the best. You can’t help but love Mario, Dale’s hispanic helper who’s got a creepy crush on Dale’s quadriplegic wife. The “smalltown preacher” is really a smalltown preacher, and there’s even a cast member credited as “hog skinner”. I can see how some of the more discerning critics might be taken aback, distracted even, by the deadpan deliveries of these local folk, but anyone who’s ever spent any time in tiny Texas towns will immediately feel at home and in love with these quaint colloquials. I know I did.

So what’s the story then? The Wild Man tells the tale of an infamous beast-man that’s been haunting the small town of Sublime, TX for generations, or at least the tale according to the newly-uncovered diary of Dale S. Rogers. The men in Dale’s family have always had a special relationship with the Wild Man, and as such have been the protectors of the town; that is, until Dale decides that he’s tired of catering to this demon. And as you might guess, all hell breaks loose. People go missing, or are rendered in twain, or simply eviscerated before your very eyes, men, women, and children alike. Which brings me to one of my favorite parts of this film: realism. Just like the realism you get from using actual townspeople as actors, this movie appears to feature actual entrails (probably not actual human entrails, but you never know…). And there’s no disclaimer at the end claiming that “no animals were harmed in the making of this film”, oh no! When they shoot a snake in the movie, they’re really shooting a snake. When you see that plate of skinned rabbits, you better believe that those are actual rabbits that someone skinned that morning. I’m doubting there was much room in the budget for plastic dead bunnies and CGI.

Even the “wild man” himself is lacking the prostheses and computer enhancements found in many of today’s monster movies, which I found delightfully refreshing. I could actually believe that this creature might be wandering around the brush near here, and I love that. If it has a similar feel to another classic small-town Texas thriller, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, that’s because Kim Henkel (Chainsaw’s writer) was co-producer for Wild Man; if you look closely, you’ll find Mr. Henkel in Wild Man as “Lionel/Radio Voice #2″. If you look really close, you may recognize the meat hook from Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and see that Dale’s kitchen table is made from Leatherface’s house and barn door. (Alright, you gotta be a little obsessive to see that one on your own, but now you can whip that little tidbit out and impress your friends!)

I can see why this film might be difficult for some people to get through; it reminds me of a film we saw at Fantastic Fest last year, Five Across the Eyes, in that if you can get past the lack of acting and see that that’s how it was supposed to be, and should be, it’s really a fantastic film. It’s got the feel of the old 70’s horror films, and anyone who loved those will probably love this too. Put it on the list of the Lady’s Highly Recommended.