Director: Fred Vogel

Truth be told, our only assurance that August Underground is a legitimate movie is that it exists on both IMDb and Rotten Tomatoes; otherwise, we’d have thought that this super-low-budget nightmare was an actual snuff film. There’s not a recognizable actor face to be seen in “director” Fred Vogel’s vile movie, nor is there anything that resembles cinematography, sound design, or post-production manipulation. August Underground progresses with the casualness of a home video, except that if it were a home video, the Feds would have tossed Vogel’s ass in the clink back in 2001.

The sick exhibition begins with Vogel beckoning the unseen cameraman to check something out in his basement. Once down there, we see a beaten-up woman tied to a chair, with one of her nipples missing. In the corner of the room is her dead boyfriend, whose castrated corpse is slumped over in a bathtub. One of his toes is later jammed into the woman’s mouth, which is then taped shut. That’s before she has piss dumped on her, poop smeared across her face, and her head smashed into a wall.

And that’s just August Underground’s beginning. In between Vogel’s murders, he visits a comic book shop and does other mundane things, giving the film a sadistically natural vibe. Basically, he’s a lot like every random, nondescript dude who walks by you inside the local GameStop. Except, you know, for his secret hobby.