It is my sincere hope that all readers of Eccentric Cinema are wise enough to know not to ever, under any circumstances, travel alone through that dreaded area of the United States known as the South. Speaking as a native Southerner, I can assure you all you've heard about us is true, that we'd just as soon rape and torture you (whatever your gender) as look at you, that we wed our cousins and sisters, and that we still do our part for General Robert E. Lee and the Glorious Cause. Oh, and if you hear banjo music (whether in real life or on the soundtrack of the movie you're in), then it truly IS all over for you!
    Those aforementioned stereotypes are not only accepted, but exploited to the hilt in Stash, the 2007 directorial debut of Kentuckian Jacob Ennis. Our cautionary tale begins as young college student Sarah Conrad (Karen Boles) is driving (yes, alone) through the Kentucky mountains, on her way home to see her parents. When her car dies and strands her alongside a desolate road, she encounters C.J. and Stan (Nathan Day and Stacey Gillespie), two pot-smoking rednecks who talk like displaced L.A. gangstas (you know the type) and who, unfortunately for Sarah, are looking to score something bigger than just their next high. C.J. and Stan recently attempted to steal the "stash" of a local cabin-dweller named Bud (Kevin Taylor), but were caught in the act by the owner himself. Bud offered them a deal: in exchange for their lives, C.J. and Stan must abduct nubile females for Bud's pleasure.
    Apparently, having the large, overall-wearing Bud as a potential angel of death is terrifying enough to set C.J. and Stan into action, and Sarah isn't the first girl they have delivered into the Bud's perverted hands. An earlier victim is chained in the basement of his shack, but she isn't holding up too well under his lustful excesses or the drugs he regularly injects into her freezing, naked skin. Bud needs a new 'toy' and he is quite pleased when Sarah is brought to him by the boys, so much so that he rewards them with a sample of the stash they'd been so eager to steal.
    C.J. seems resolved to giving Bud his pound of girlflesh, in fact he gets an obvious charge out of Sarah's terror and her struggles to escape. Certainly he relishes getting paid in weed for his efforts. Stan, on the other hand, is pretty torn up over the situation, and between the stresses of sharing a trailer with his nagging, white trash mother (a scene-stealing performance by Belinda Cooke) and guilt over the lives he is sacrificing to Bud, Stan's fragile sanity is beginning to unravel.
    Meanwhile, Sarah's parents are becoming alarmed by her failure to come home, so her father, a retired detective, contacts an old friend on the police force (played by the film's producer, Billy Blackwell) who has already been investigating the kidnapping of a local girl. Wondering if there is a connection to Sarah's disappearance, the two men interview the local girl's alcoholic mother (Debbie Rochon), who has assumed her daughter just ran off with a boyfriend. In fact, her daughter has finally succumbed to Bud's torturous treatment. He buries her in the woods, and now Sarah will have his undivided attention.
    A chance bust for marijuana possession lands C.J. and Stan in police custody, where they are quickly made as the prime suspects in the kidnappings. Stan crumbles under the police interrogation, and agrees to lead the police and Sarah's father to Bud's lair, but will they be in time before Sarah expires under Bud's southern charms?
    Taking into account that Stash is his first film, director Ennis (who also handled the scriptwriting and editing chores) manages to impress at times with the technical self-assurance of his work. The cinematography and editing are generally well-done, with only a few instances of continuity problems or a lack of cohesiveness in the action. Refreshingly, Stash attempts to be more than just part of the growing cottage-industry of horror film known as "torture-porn". Instead of endless footage of rape and torture padding out a threadbare story, as is common to these films, Ennis attempts to involve us in actual characters, and to tell a story. Ennis' script may not exactly sparkle with wit or invention, but it is at least well-paced and concise.
    Unfortunately, Stash has two major problems, which stem from the portrayal of our main heavy, Bud. Now, it may seem unfair to pick on an independent film for its level of acting quality, since normally a truly indie cast will consist of amateur to semiprofessional performers, with acting abilities that range from very good to hopelessly wooden. Stash has notable performances from Karen Boles as main victim Sarah, the reliable Debbie Rochon (Skin Crawl), and, to a slightly more uneven degree, Nathan Day and Stacy Gillespie as Bud's 'candy-snatchers'. However, Kevin Taylor as Bud has to carry a large part of the story himself, and his acting chops are just not up to the challenge. Oh, he looks the part — one can see why director Ennis cast him on sight — and he roars and curses and dry-humps his victims with gusto. However, there's a flat quality to even his most impassioned delivery that still sounds too much like line-reading... that is, when he's not laughing maniacally like some serial villain.
    The second problem with Bud is we are never convinced that he's the kind of super-badass who could terrify others into committing such evil acts rather than risk defying him. Selling the plot depends upon our believing that Bud is some dominant force that has a reach beyond his cabin, but the character is written as too oafish and pathetic to make us believe that C.J. and Stan, whatever their own psychological weaknesses, could be so terrified as to do Bud's bidding once he has initially let them escape. In short, Bud is a 'heavy' in terms of body mass only.
    Despite its take on real-life abduction terrors and fears of us untamed Southern wilderness dwellers, Stash never seems to know what it wants to be. The cartoon villain, the shout-outs to Deliverance and Friday the 13th, and a cameo by the hosts of the great horror podcast DeadPit.com, inspire more humor than hardcore terror. Again, one is relieved that the filmmakers had more in mind than hours of rape-and-torture, but the film as it stands fails to leave any kind of lasting mark.