“If Frankenstein and a Jacked-Up Lunch Lady Had a Love Child… It’d Still Be Better Than This.”
There’s a thin line between low-budget brilliance and complete cinematic misfire. Destroyer (1988) doesn’t just cross that line — it digs a grave on the wrong side of it and climbs in voluntarily. This oddball attempt at an action-horror hybrid tries to serve up prison-based supernatural terror with muscle-bound menace, industrial decay, and one-liners you could sand a desk with. What we end up with is a movie so bewildering in its tone and execution, it’s like watching a B-movie that wants to fail the audition for USA Up All Night.
At the center of this mess is former NFL defensive tackle Lyle Alzado, who plays the undead psychopath, Ivan Moser. And to answer the question on everyone’s mind: no, we don’t know why he’s here either. He’s menacing, sure — in the way a refrigerator looks threatening when it creaks at night — but acting? Nuance? Believability? You’re not going to find any of that under this pile of concrete, sweat, and shouted gibberish.
Let’s dig in and unravel what makes Destroyer such an exhausting, confused, and laughably dumb experience — and why even horror fans with a high tolerance for schlock might find themselves hitting eject before the end credits roll.
The Plot: Shawshank Redemption on Acid (But Dumber)
The movie opens in a gritty prison setting — you know, concrete walls, flickering lights, snarling guards, and lots of steam for no apparent reason. We’re introduced to Ivan Moser, a sadistic inmate and convicted killer. In the prologue, he’s about to be executed via electric chair, and of course — because this is a horror movie — things go wrong. A prison riot breaks out mid-execution, there’s chaos, and Moser… survives. Sort of. He’s presumed dead, but no one finds a body.
Cut to years later, and a film crew is shooting a sleazy women-in-prison flick in the now-abandoned penitentiary. Director Robert Edwards (played by Anthony Perkins, yes, that Anthony Perkins) is there, chewing scenery like he’s on day five of a nicotine withdrawal. He’s arrogant, pompous, and basically a caricature of a sadistic auteur — which might be the only thing this movie gets right.
With him is the script supervisor Susan Malone (played by the always-watchable Deborah Foreman) and her boyfriend, David (Clayton Rohner). They’re supposed to be our “normal” characters — grounded in logic and humanity. But they have as much personality as a soggy napkin, and their scenes feel like timeouts between Alzado’s loud grunting fits.
Soon, mysterious things begin happening. Cast and crew members start disappearing. There are jump scares, mangled bodies, and lots of heavy breathing echoing through the concrete halls. It turns out Moser never died — he’s been lurking in the shadows of the prison, feeding on electricity (yes, really), and waiting for the right time to go full berserker.
And go berserker he does. But not in a way that’s scary, suspenseful, or even vaguely coherent. Instead, Alzado turns into a kind of undead Wile E. Coyote, stomping around with a power drill, baring his teeth, and growling like a bear with hemorrhoids.
Lyle Alzado: A Monster in Search of a Movie
Let’s talk about Lyle.
Alzado was a household name in football — a two-time Pro Bowl defensive end with a menacing physical presence and a reputation for intensity. That intensity does make it onto the screen, but it’s wasted on a script that gives him nothing to do but flex and shout. As Moser, he’s supposed to be this Frankenstein-meets-Terminator force of death. But in practice, he’s just a big guy lumbering down corridors in slow motion while the lighting guy goes nuts with the strobe effects.
There’s a strange attempt to give him a mythic quality — the idea that he somehow gained superhuman strength and invincibility from a botched execution — but it’s never explained in a way that makes sense. He doesn’t stalk his victims. He doesn’t toy with them. He just kind of appears, makes guttural noises, and kills them with whatever power tool happens to be nearby.
It’s like someone cast a linebacker as a slasher icon and then forgot to write a character.
Watching Alzado try to emote through his one facial expression — constipated fury — is painful. And while he’s certainly an imposing figure, his screen presence lacks any sense of timing, subtlety, or danger. He looks lost. And you know what? So are we.
Deborah Foreman and Clayton Rohner: Trapped in a Movie That Deserves Neither
Deborah Foreman (Valley Girl, April Fool’s Day) is one of the bright spots in any ‘80s B-movie lineup. She’s got presence, charisma, and a natural girl-next-door likability that always shines through. Unfortunately, Destroyer doesn’t know what to do with her.
Her character, Susan, is ostensibly the “final girl,” but her arc is thin, and the movie saddles her with the kind of damsel-in-distress beats that belong in a much worse film — which, sadly, this is. Foreman tries — you can see her effort in every scream, every wide-eyed look of fear. But she’s acting in a vacuum. There’s no tension, no momentum to carry her performance. She’s a good actress trapped in a script written on the back of a bar napkin.
Clayton Rohner (Just One of the Guys, April Fool’s Day) fares no better. His character is bland, his lines are forgettable, and his chemistry with Foreman is about as lively as a tax seminar. He’s not given much to do besides walk around with a flashlight and look mildly concerned. By the time the climax hits, you almost forget he’s still in the movie.
Anthony Perkins: How Did He Get Here?
Yes, that Anthony Perkins.
The once-great actor behind Norman Bates turns up in Destroyer as a sleazy, egotistical director. It should be a deliciously over-the-top role. And to his credit, Perkins seems to be having some fun with it. But even he can’t elevate the material. He’s clearly slumming it — maybe paying a bill, maybe doing a favor. Whatever the reason, watching him bark orders about filming prison shower scenes while the rest of the cast pretends to be in danger is just sad.
It’s like watching Mozart play a kazoo at a birthday party for dogs.
Direction, Editing, and Cinematography: Where Did the Budget Go?
Director Robert Kirk seems to have no idea what kind of movie he’s making. Is this a slasher? A prison thriller? A haunted house flick? A parody? A monster movie? He tries to do all of them — and succeeds at none.
The lighting is harsh, the sets are uninspired, and the camera work feels like it was handled by someone who thought Dutch angles were a new sandwich at Arby’s. The prison setting could have been moody and atmospheric. Instead, it’s drab and poorly lit. Even the kill scenes — the bread and butter of a movie like this — are uninspired. The blood is minimal. The violence is tame. The editing cuts away before any real suspense can build.
One particularly ridiculous moment involves Moser slamming someone’s head into a urinal. It should be shocking. Instead, it’s choreographed so awkwardly, you can almost hear the stunt coordinator muttering directions in the background.
Soundtrack: Let’s Not Talk About the Music
There is music in Destroyer. None of it is memorable. None of it is good. Moving on.
The Ending: A Big Loud Nothing
The climax of Destroyer involves our final characters confronting Moser in the depths of the prison. There’s electricity. There’s a meat locker. There’s shouting. And there’s… an anticlimax. The final confrontation is so rushed and poorly executed that it feels like the filmmakers were told to wrap up the movie before the lights got turned off.
There’s no payoff. No twist. No satisfaction. Moser goes down like a collapsing stack of tires, and that’s it. Roll credits. Try to forget you ever watched this.
Final Verdict: 2/10
+1 for Deborah Foreman’s effort
+1 for unintentional comedy from Lyle Alzado’s performance
-8 for everything else
Destroyer is a movie that doesn’t know what it wants to be — or how to get there. It wastes a solid cast, a promising setting, and even the novelty of a hulking football player as a slasher villain. It has no atmosphere, no tension, no scares, and no point.
It’s a movie that should’ve stayed locked up.
