Some movies resurrect demons. Others resurrect franchises that should have stayed six feet under. Pumpkinhead: Blood Feud (2007) manages both, though only one of them has claws. Directed and written by Michael Hurst — in what must have been either a contractual obligation or a dare — this fourth Pumpkinhead film takes the ancient, terrifying mythos of a vengeful rural demon and ties it to the least frightening concept imaginable: hillbilly family drama.
If you’ve ever wondered what it would look like if Hatfields & McCoys got blackout drunk with Jeepers Creepers 2, here’s your answer. Spoiler: it’s not pretty, and it’s definitely not scary.
The Setup: You Can’t Spell “Feud” Without “Ugh”
The movie kicks off with a scene that looks like it was filmed by someone who just discovered the “night vision” button. Two men on motorcycles are running from Pumpkinhead — which is hilarious, because this film’s budget can barely afford headlights, let alone a demon chase. One guy hits a branch and eats dirt, becoming Pumpkinhead’s first victim of the evening. The other rides off to a cabin to find the summoner — because nothing says “gothic horror” like a guy in motocross gear begging a swamp witch for mercy.
Pumpkinhead shows up, smashes through a window, and claws the poor idiot to death while his summoner dies of budget-related stress. Cue the ghost of Lance Henriksen, who returns as Ed Harley to deliver his contractual five minutes of grizzled exposition, muttering warnings about vengeance and the inevitability of sequels. Henriksen looks like he filmed his scenes on his lunch break from another movie — and I mean that as the highest compliment this movie deserves.
The Plot: Love, Death, and Dumb Decisions
Fast-forward five years and several IQ points. We’re introduced to the Hatfields and McCoys — yes, those Hatfields and McCoys, except now they apparently live in a supernatural zip code where everyone looks like they just walked off the set of a discount Civil War reenactment.
The film tries to weave tragedy and folklore into a timeless story of star-crossed lovers. Unfortunately, what we actually get is Romeo and Juliet, if Juliet’s family chewed tobacco and Romeo’s main romantic move was hiding behind a hay bale.
Jody Hatfield (Amy Manson) and Ricky McCoy (Bradley Taylor) are the kind of lovers who make you root for demonic intervention. They sneak off for a romantic rendezvous while their families shoot each other over… a car. Yes, apparently this blood feud started in the 1930s over a stolen automobile. Shakespeare gave us poisoned chalices and family honor; Blood Feud gives us faulty carburetors and moonshine logic.
When Jody’s brothers accidentally kill Ricky’s sister Sarah (because nothing says “accident” like multiple gunshots), Ricky does the logical thing — he goes to the local witch, Haggis, and asks her to summon Pumpkinhead. Haggis, played with the commitment of a community theater crone who just discovered facial prosthetics, agrees to unleash hell.
And hell, it turns out, is mostly bad lighting and inconsistent monster makeup.
Pumpkinhead Returns (Sort Of)
The titular demon finally shows up about 40 minutes in, looking like he’s been hitting the keto diet hard since the ‘80s. Played by Bob Gunter in what appears to be a leftover Power Rangers suit, this version of Pumpkinhead has all the menace of a wet puppet. He skulks through foggy forests, kills a few Hatfields, and somehow manages to make every death look cheaper than the last.
Gone is the haunting elegance of Stan Winston’s original design. This Pumpkinhead looks like a rejected animatronic from a Chuck E. Cheese Halloween display. He doesn’t stalk — he lumbers. He doesn’t terrorize — he inconveniences.
The kills, when they happen, are an exercise in anti-climax. Characters are slashed, yanked into trees, or tossed into conveniently placed wells. Most of the violence happens offscreen, probably because the effects budget was spent on gas for the fog machine.
Even the summoning scenes — usually the highlight of these films — feel lifeless. There’s no ritualistic dread, no sense of power or price. Haggis mutters a few lines, Ricky looks constipated, and suddenly Pumpkinhead’s back like, “Yeah, sure, I guess we’re doing this again.”
The Acting: Everyone’s Giving 40%, Including the Demon
The cast ranges from “bland” to “bless their hearts.” Amy Manson does her best to bring some emotion to Jody, but the script gives her little more to do than cry, kiss, and run through mud. Bradley Taylor’s Ricky delivers every line with the intensity of a man who just remembered his laundry’s still in the washer.
Meanwhile, the Hatfield clan seems to be competing in a contest for Most Cartoonishly Southern Accent. Every line sounds like it was coached by a GPS set to “Deliverance” mode. “Ain’t no Hatfield gonna be lovin’ no McCoy!” might as well be the movie’s tagline.
Then there’s Lance Henriksen, who materializes from beyond the grave just long enough to remind everyone that this franchise used to have class. His spectral cameo is basically him saying, “Pumpkinhead always comes back,” before disappearing — probably back to the afterlife, where the scripts are better.
The Script: Now with 40% More Cliché!
Michael Hurst’s script reads like it was written by an AI fed on country song lyrics, Friday the 13th sequels, and a gallon of cheap whiskey. The dialogue is pure cliché soup: “You can’t fight the curse,” “He’s comin’ for revenge,” and “We gotta end this blood feud!” are repeated so often they start to sound like slogans for a bad reality show.
Even the exposition feels tired. Every character explains something we already know, just in case the audience has wandered off — which, honestly, is a reasonable possibility. The pacing drags like a shotgun through molasses, and every attempt at emotional depth collapses under the weight of its own melodrama.
By the time Ricky decides the only way to stop Pumpkinhead is to throw himself down a well, the audience is silently cheering him on — not out of sympathy, but because it means the movie is finally ending.
Cinematography & Effects: Pumpkinhead in Soft Focus
Visually, Blood Feud is what happens when your horror film is lit exclusively by porch lamps and guilt. Every night scene is bathed in the same bluish tint that screams, “We shot this on the cheap in Romania.” The rural setting could’ve been atmospheric, but instead it feels like a mud-slick set left over from Xena: Warrior Princess.
The creature effects are equally dismal. Pumpkinhead used to be a majestic practical-effects monster — a sinewy, terrifying figure of vengeance. Here, he looks like a guy in rubber pajamas who keeps tripping over tree roots. Even the climactic showdown in the well is shot so darkly you can barely tell what’s happening — which, frankly, might be a blessing.
Final Thoughts: A Feud Worth Forgetting
Pumpkinhead: Blood Feud is the cinematic equivalent of a family reunion you can’t leave fast enough. It takes one of horror’s most chilling legends — a demon born of human rage — and turns it into a bad soap opera with special effects that wouldn’t scare a scarecrow.
The original Pumpkinhead (1988) had atmosphere, tragedy, and a sense of myth. Blood Feud has banjos, mud, and a monster that looks like it lost a fight with a fog machine.
There’s a scene near the end where the characters talk about how vengeance “never ends.” If only that were true for the franchise — because this installment should have been the final nail in its coffin.
