Red Mist (2009) was originally called Freakdog. That’s in reference to a mentally-stunted janitor guy who works at a hospital and self-mutilates while taking pictures of naked corpses instead of mopping up guts like he should be.
Fixating on one of the supermodel medical students, he follows her to a club where the other med students are socially relaxing with booze and drugs. They ridicule him and call him the original movie title. He threatens to bust them for pilfering the hospital’s stash. Oh, no – this could ruin all their careers and get them cut off from mom and dad’s credit cards. So no choice but to let him party with them.
But first a little mood enhancer: drugs mixed with alcohol. Goading him into shotgunning the lethal mixture, he goes into a spastic coma. In order to save their medical paychecks, they dump him outside the hospital and run away. Whew – all’s well that ends well and, uh, oh… He can’t be revived, so they’re gonna have to pull the plug. If you have overwhelming feelings of guilt and remorse, now would be the time to use ’em.
The supermodel does a load of homework and discovers a highly experimental drug combination that might revive him. It works. Kinda. Hopped up on goofers, the guy’s soul can leave his body and take over anyone else. NOW the party can resume, with each med student meeting an appropriate revenge agenda.
The graphic gore is suggested and not shown, which I feel is a mistake, because when you boil it all down, Red Mist is just another back-from-the-dead revenge flick. And there are, like, eight million of those. For a better medical horror movie, try Dr. Butcher, M.D. (1979). It’s what I prescribe.