from the depths of hell to behind the wheel come horrors most recent blood splattered king, richard b. stanley.  behind the wheel of his blood soaked, hell cab, little richy lumbers around melbourne looking for new recruits for his undead army of evil taxi drivers.  you want to hope you’re not in his sights as he rounds the next corner or you’ll find yourself mindlessly searching the streets for fresh souls to massacre and devour.  no one seems to realise people are vanishing off the streets until our renegade, drug addled, gun slinging hero nick wottington sees the macabre taxi driver’s meeting at a secluded docklands boat shed.  with ‘hell cabs’ profits skyrocketing and a public exchange float of their shares on the horizon, our communist hero (who hates anything capitalist, like ‘hell cabs’ pty. ltd.) seeks to take on the army of the dead by his own.

touted as the beginning of a new era in film making, dead taxi takes the viewer on a sensory overload of unbelievably gruesome gore whilst providing an insight into the darker side of economics.  flesh tearing, blood gurgling, limb ripping, knee smashing, brain bleeding, eye gouging, axe chopping, knife slitting scenes are shoved down the viewers throat until they vomit and laugh in disgust and awe.  walking out of the madness that is dead taxi, a relaxing afternoon will now constitute of watching the undiscovered tapes of charlie manson sodomising bert newton.  strap in horror lovers, cause this is a ride you’ll most likely never recover.