Tongue firmly in cheek, Slither resurrects the schlock horror movie with unabashed glee, pitting hillbillies against an invasion of body-snatching molluscs.

The film embraces its lunacy with abandon, delighting in the gruesome demise of the cast and some sick and twisted leaps of imagination.

Todd Masters' make-up and creature effects are splendid, from the unfortunate character who literally explodes giving birth to thousands of slimy space slugs, to the legions of meat-eating zombies that shuffle around town.

Lashings of gore are complemented by the film's demented sense of humour: a mother chirruping "Sleep tight. Don't let the beg bugs bite!" to her two daughters as the beasties slither through the open window, or a teenager taking a bubble bath, oblivious to the slug swimming through the froth like some demonic turd.

Comic touches abound, from the sheriff pausing to activate his car alarm in the midst of a chase, to the old timer who stares at the host creature, a shuffling mass of tentacles and oozing pink flesh, and quips it looks like something that fell off his unmentionables during the war.