Sometimes the simplest concepts are the most effective ones. Case in point: imagine a world where Gary Busey is a homicidal maniac.

Not too much of a stretch, right? With that gravelly voice and manic personality, I wouldn’t bat an eye if someone informed me Scary Gary murdered 16 civilians, 3 cops, and a Predator in the middle of a black-ops drug deal gone wrong. Quite the contrary – it would just prove my theory that Busey has always been playing himself and all of his films were just loosely autobiographical portraits of his coked-up, everyday adventures.

Knife fight with Mel Gibson on Danny Glover’s front lawn? Yep, that was a Friday. Got into a fire fight with a bunch of ex-President masked surfer crooks outside an airplane hanger? Sounds like a normal Tuesday afternoon to me. Was killed during a diner robbery only to have his soul implanted into the golden brown crusted body of a cookie confection? That… actually, that sounds like a bit of a stretch.

An AMAZING stretch.

This is the conceit of Charles Band’s 2005 direct-to-video opus (does he have any other kind?) Gingerdead Man. Gary Busey is a killer cookie in the vein of your usual killer doll, leprechaun, or sweater-clad pedophile. He cracks wise, confines himself to a bakery, and gives a group of young bakers their (don’t do it) just desserts (I am a horrible writer).

It wasn’t an amazing film. It didn’t change the horror game. It will never be uttered in the same conversation as a Saw or Paranormal Activity. But it was funny as shit.

It had to be. Gary Busey has long been an actor that occupies the same sort of kooky, unpredictable arenas as Christopher Walken and Nick Nolte. He’s scary and crazy but in a hilarious, loveable sort of way, filling the void in audience’s hearts as the alcoholic uncle/drug runner/Predator-hunting FBI agent you never had, but always prayed to God for, night after night. As such, the film was a slam-dunk without even trying. Such is the genius of Charles Band as a producer – take Busey and have him voice a killer cookie and watch the Blockbuster invoice orders stack up.

With a hilarious trailer and a lot of Internet buzz among the “so-bad-its-good” set, it was a success before it even hit shelves. Nevermind the fact that it was barely over an hour in length (with a little help from 10 minutes worth of credits), never mind the fact that Busey is only actually in the movie for what could be considered a cameo’s length, never mind the fact the film moves at a snail’s pace, never mind – you know what? Just never mind. Gingerdead Man was a critic-proof gift from the gods of bad cinema. Of course, a sequel was inevitable.

Which brings us to Gingerdead Man 2: Passion of the Crust. Yes, it’s a pun on the Gibson film… released four years after the film was in any way relevant, but Christian controversy moves DVDs, dammit. Not like Garey Busey in cookie form, mind you. This brings us to Gingerdead Man 2’s greatest problem: a lack of confectionary Busey. I’m guessing ol’ Gar’ asked for a bigger paycheck or something, because he does not return to the character he made iconic (though he does pop up in stock footage from the first film).

Instead, producer/special effects guru John Vulich goes all triple duty on everyone’s asses with his own spin on the character. While he does an admirable job, the hubris of trying to trick fans of the cookie killer with False Busey is deplorable, abominable, and kind of distracting. It just isn’t the same without the real deal, Scary Gary. It’s like trying to do a Hellraiser without Doug Bradley. No one in their right mind would do such a thing to such a beloved franchise.

NO ONE.

Well (besides the Weinstein company), no one but Full Moon mogul Chuck Band and Gingerdead Man co-creator William Butler. See, this isn’t their first diminutive terror rodeo. With Busey out of the picture and Vulich giving it his college try, the duo teamed up with screenwiters Aaron Strongoni and Muffy Bolding (these are actual names, I swear to God) to make… an actual movie?

Yup. Without Busey to carry the film with novelty alone, Gingerdead Man 2 is forced to resort to such tactics as clever screenwriting, funny jokes, and strong direction to make ends meet. This may come as a shock to fans of the original. I know it did me.

But what a great surprise! I’m usually content to settle with a rod puppet killing off beautiful actors/models/cocktail waitresses (triple threat thespians) in ridiculous, poorly CGI’d set pieces. With Gingerdead Man 2 gritting its saccharine teeth and crafting itself into what is surely the first and last word in dessert-themed horror films (eat it, The Stuff) I barely know what to do with myself. You know, besides shower it with praise.

[Editor's note: Maybe not horror, but certainly terrifying. There was a memorable pastry scene in 1985's Young Sherlock Holmes.]

The film is a big fat love letter to hardcore Full Moon/Charles Band fans, the ones who stuck with the company from the Empire days through the Tempe partnership and beyond. Much like Joe Dante’s Gremlins 2, it is a film that mocks its own inception and branding. It’s not quite as family friendly, mind you, but the comparisons are there.

This time, the Gingerdead Man is delivered to a B-movie studio (wink, wink) that is struggling under the guidance of a second generation movie mogul (wink, wink, wink) and seems to constantly be on the verge of financial and fan-base ruin (wink, wink, wink, wink – you get it).

Continue reading The Gingerdead Man Trilogy article after the jump…

You can check out the list of dates, and theaters that will be playing Beyond The Black Rainbow via the official site. So, if your one of the lucky viewers that can actually see this visually inventive film in the theater, and consider yourself a lazy bastard. Stop playing Max Payne 3, get off the couch, and check it out tomorrow.

Press

“VISUALLY INVENTIVE – AN IMMERSIVE EXPERIENCE.”
- Justin Lowe Hollywood Reporter

“A GREAT FILM. Panos Cosmatos is a genius.”
- Noah J. Nelson TURNSTYLENEWS.COM

“FANTASTICALLY TRIPPY. A deliciously narcotic treat for the senses.”
- Tom von Logue Newth FILMFRACTURE

“CAPTIVATING. MIND-BLOWING IMAGERY.”
- Oscar Moralde Slantmagazine.com

“An experience for the senses.”
- Bijan Tehrani Cinema Without Borders

Synopsis

Set in the strange and oppressive emotional landscape of the year 1983, Beyond The Black Rainbow is a Reagan-era fever dream inspired by hazy childhood memories of midnight movies and Saturday morning cartoons.

From the producer of Machotaildrop, Rainbow is the outlandish feature film debut of writer and director Panos Cosmatos. Featuring a hypnotic analog synthesizer score by Jeremy Schmidt of Sinoia Caves and Black Mountain.

Source: Magnolia Pictures

I have a lingering fear of clowns. Not an overt one or anything – I can experience and enjoy the Ringling Bros. Circus, Stephen King’s It, Lon Chaney Sr. in Laugh, Clown, Laugh, and the Insane Clown Posse’s seminal 1997 album The Amazing Jeckel Brothers like any normal, red-blooded American male. Yet the clown as a concept will always creep me out. They are obscured, ghastly caricatures of human frailty symbolized in powder, grease paint, red noses and pouffe wigs. They are tragic because they are funny and vice versa. They’re unpredictable, violent and most of all, horribly unsexy.

Which brings me to clown porn. Is there anything scarier than clown porn? Two clown bodies united as one, thrusting in and out, noses and other body parts honking and slapping, fluid and scarves emerging from mouths and out of orifices. In the deep, dark wilderness of modern pornography, there is surely no erotica more godless or abominable.

Killjoy 3, while not clown porn, certainly has some of the hallmarks of the genre: minimal sets, amateur young actors, and, oh yeah, clown breasts and vagina.

The privates in question belong to Victoria De Mare, an appealing, attractive actress who is clearly aware of her best features and not shy about nudity. To her credit, she spends the majority of Killjoy 3 Full Monty. It’s just too bad that her sex appeal is rendered terrifying thanks to her character’s clown appearance, thus proving that there is nothing more unsexy than clown vagina. Okay, maybe clown penis.

De Mare plays Batty Boop, a succubus clown conjured by the titular demon clown (Trent Haaga). She’s accompanied by a brick shit-house hobo clown, Punchy (Al Burke), and conjoined twin mime, Freakshow (Tai Chan Ngo). The quartet of killer clowns target a professor (Darrow Igus) who cheated them out of a deal. Instead, a group of college students house sitting for him get the brunt of their ridiculous wrath. One by one they’re transported into Killjoy’s own private hell. When the professor finally arrives, he must lead the survivors against Killjoy to destroy him once and for all. Goofy, gory set pieces and clown nudity ensue.

Okay, you’re probably getting tired of me harping on about the adult clown content riddled throughout the film, but I refuse to just get over it. There is nothing, absolutely nothing sexy about a clown. Ever. The closest we’ve ever gotten to the idea is Batman: The Animated Series character Harley Quinn, of whom Batty Boop is clearly modeled after.

The main difference is where Quinn is a cartoon character, Boop is brought to full, live-action life. De Mare’s makeup is impressively detailed and her performance hits the Harley Quinn-esque notes adequately. It’s clear writer/director John Lechago is a fan of comic books, as the entire relationship between Killjoy and Boop is highly reminiscent (if not totally lifted) from that of Joker and Harley Quinn.

This is not a complaint, rather, it is exactly the sort of thing this franchise seemed to need. I admit to having overlooked the original Killjoy and its sequel during my explorations into Charles Band territory. While I was always intrigued, the trailers seemed to be your basic, hood-bound slasher films with a colorful villain and Pumpkinhead-esque revenge plot lines.

The first film especially had none of the hallmarks of your typical Full Moon joint, lacking high production values, decent acting, strong attention to detail, and a sense of world-building mythology producer Band normally strives for.

While I can’t vouch for Killjoy 2, Killjoy 3 stands out from its predecessor as a full-fledged Band outing and in the process explores the world and mythology of the titular character to great effect.

Killjoy himself is cut from a mold, sharing personality traits with Pennywise The Clown, The Joker, and Freddy Krueger. He’s fun, goofy, scary looking, and shit tons of fun to watch. Haaga has long been a penultimate “scream king” in the realm of microbudget horror films and one of the few actors to cut his teeth in the realms of Full Moon and Troma alike. As years have passed he has emerged as an absolute fucking beast of an actor, the type of guy who elevates titles like Bonnie and Clyde Vs. Dracula into thoroughly watchable Friday night fare.

Continue reading the Killjoy 3 review after the jump…

Yell! Rating (x/5 Skulls):

3.5 out of 5 stars

Year Released:

14 December 2010

Director:

John Lechago

Cast/Crew

Trent Haaga, Victoria De Mare, Darrow Igus, Spiral Jackson, Quentin Miles, Tai Chan Ngo, Michael Rupnow, Jessica Whitaker, and Al Burke

Genre

Horror

Official URL:

Full Moon Direct

Supergroups are either hit or miss – they either suck or they rock. And in the end it’s all subjective to the opinion of the listener. Adrenaline Mob is a supergroup that is no doubt causing some fans to take a double take, sounding like none of the various genres its members come from.

Comprised of vocalist Russell Allen of Symphony X, guitarist Mike Orlando, drummer Mike Portnoy of Dream Theater, Flying Colors, and bassist John Moyer of Disturbed, Adrenaline Mob is producing straight-up rock that’s friendly enough for Active Rock stations, but will likely get little play. Adrenaline Mob’s latest single/video for “Indifferent” is the basis for this judgement. Then again, it could end up being the sleeper hit of the summer.

“Indifferent” is on Adrenaline Mob’s full-length debut album, Omertá (Century Media Records). As mentioned, the track is straight-up rock, with a wicked guitar solo. The track has great hooks, a sing-along chorus, and it’s totally not what you’d expect. Perhaps the band members grew tired of being in cult-status bands and decided to collaborate to take a stab at the mainstream. They certainly prove on “Indifferent” that they have the talent (that was never the question) and that they’re serious about it.

Check out the video (which features a few of our favorite things – American muscle cars, Harley Davidsons, and confused psyches) and listen to the track and let us know what you think.

Rock Hard \m/

The game sashayed into my office one night. The box was covered in lurid artwork. Its DVD was all sharp curves and a sharper tongue. “My name is Max Payne 3,” it said in a sultry voice, the kind that launched a thousand game reviews. “You remind me of an old addiction, one I haven’t seen in over nine years.” My Whisky-fueled words were brimming with bitterness, it had been almost a decade since I’d last wrapped my hands around Max Payne’s controller. I thought I was over my schoolboy infatuation with his slow-motion gameplay, with the ridiculously awesome noir narration… and here he was, pummeling his way back into my life with all the subtlety of a Steve Jobs press conference. “Fine!” I said. “I’ll pop you into my Playstation… but it’s only the one time! Aw, God! Of all the Internet websites in the world… why did you have to walk into mine?”

Ok. Fine. So your faithful reviewer totally sucks at coming up with decent film noir narration. We can’t all be Raymond Chandler. Truth be told, neither are the writers for all three Max Payne titles. The narrative contained therein can never truly be referred to as great, but the over-the-top and at times snicker-inducing words that chronicle Max’s adventures are part of the franchise’s charm. Gamers have patiently waited since 2003’s The Fall Of Max Payne for a new entry in the series and Max Payne 3 as finally arrived to sate their hunger. Remedy Entertainment, maker of the first two entries, is gone, replaced by Rockstar’s Vancouver branch. Is Max still a dashing noir figure with a full head of hair or has time away from consoles and a change in developers conspired to make him a chrome-domed, pill-popping alcoholic?

This is Yell! Magazine’s review of the long awaited Max Payne 3, currently available for PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360. PC owners will have to wait till May 29 to indulge in a little of the old ultra violence. For review purposes, the PS3 version was used. For health concerns, a bucket of Dramamine was kept nearby to protect against gratuitous slow motion and Tony Scott on avid cutscene editing.

The Story

In the intervening years between Max Payne 2 and 3, the titular hero as retired to an island paradise where he surrounds himself with beautiful women and drinks mojitos all day. Nah, just kidding. His life is in the crapper. His family is still six feet under… unless there’s a way to unlock zombie mode and nobody told me? No? Max is fat, no longer a cop, binge drinking himself into the grave, and working shitty jobs to earn booze money.

He’s also developed a taste for Hawaiian shirts. Clearly the sign of a deranged individual.

It’s all a bit much unless you’ve played the previous games, in which case you’ll agree that Max has earned a little break from such concerns as hygiene. As the game opens, Max is working security for a wealthy Sao Paulo businessman. That’s “businessman” in big ass quotation marks since Max’s employer is clearly up to something shady. The plot takes a few knowing winks at Tony Scott’s Man On Fire: battered professional takes a job watching a wealthy individual’s family, something bad happens, cue explosions. In Max Payne 3, it’s the trophy wife that gets kidnapped under Max’s nose.

Dakota Fanning was hotter. Crap, I said that out loud, didn’t I?

Unsurprisingly, it’s up to Max to pick himself up off the floor, shave his head in a stereotypical tough-guy-has-reached-his-boiling-point montage, strap on a pair of pistols, and cause some mayhem. Max Payne 3’s storyline isn’t going to win any awards for originality, but the writers consistently refuse to plant their tongues in their cheek and play the story straight. Sadly, there’s a massive overuse of every single editing technique under the sun during the cutscenes that important moments lose whatever weight they may have otherwise had. Shaky cam, scan lines, sudden appearance of grainy film stock – Max Payne 3’s cut scenes look a bit like somebody at Rockstar got a My First Editing Suite for Christmas.

Still, if you like darker than dark stories that aren’t afraid to graphically showcase the evil that men do, Max Payne does offer a decent trip. The Brazilian setting, with its scorching sun, makes for a nice change of pace from the constant nighttime scenes in the first two games.

Read about the Max Payne 3 gameplay, presentation and verdict after the jump…

Yell! Rating (x/5 Skulls):

4 out of 5 stars

Published by:

Rockstar Games

Developed by:

Rockstar Studios

Year Released:

May 15, 2012

Also Available On:

PC, Xbox 360

Genre:

Shooter

Official URL:

Max Payne 3

What you need are some serious shit-kickers.

The Luka boots from Harley Davidson are exactly the kind of boots that I like. They have a military jungle boot look to them and with their full-grain leather they’re going to offer you the protection you need. The shaft is 7” high, the heel is 1”, and the sole is rubber, offering you lots of tracking during those annoying red lights. There’s also a locking inside zipper that makes it easy to get these shit-kickers on and off.

The price at Amazon has dropped from $130 to as low as $109. Better hurry before stock runs out.

Rock Hard \m/

Credit: SuicideGirls.com

What constitutes a “favorite” Suicide Girl? Well, she has to meet a few of our standards: She should be fairly heavily tattooed and/or pierced, into one or more of our topics of interest (heavy metal/hardcore rap, horror/sci-fi/action movies, MMA, and/or specific types of video games), and seemingly interesting as a person (as best as we can judge from the brief bio SuicidGirls sends us), and sexy.

Why SuicideGirls? They say it best: “SuicideGirls is a community that celebrates Alternative Beauty and alternative culture from all over the world.” Hey, we’re into that subculture thing too.

Don’t forget to click on the thumbs to see larger versions of the pictures.

The Girls

Georjah Suicide has been on Suicide Monday before, and back then we referred to her as a mullet. You’ll have to read it to find out why. OK, so what sells? Oh, right, sex. So, Georjah likes it from behind, has no fantasies because she thinks it, she does it, she loves zombies, and if you’re an SG member (you can get one right here), you’ll be treated to a video of her morning ritual.

Discoquette Suicide is one of our favorite SGs. This 25-year-old tattooed dream has curves in all the right places and the fantastic ink to highlight them. We’re looking forward to seeing the sleeve on her right arm completed. The set from which you’re getting a peek at here is called “Hidden Stairs.” Wonder what her hidden meaning is; could it be hidden stairs for public sex? Sit with that thought for a while.

Georjah Suicide

Age: 20
Location: Canada

Into: My dog, leopard print, tattoos, toys, love, art, horses, painting, zombies, halloween, horror movies, vanilla coke
Makes me happy: Great Sex and good cuddles
I spend most of my free time: Outside, riding my horses, painting, with friends, having sex, watching horror movies, and loving life. Not all at once. Yucky!

Bands: Marilyn Manson, Ko, Rob Zombie, Tom Petty, Leftover Crack, Misfits, John Mayer, Otis Redding, Ray Charles, Mumford & Sons
Films: The Devil’s Rejects, Saw series, House of 1000 Corpses, Dawn of the Dead, Shaun of the Dead, Zombieland, Fido
Books: Marilyn Manson – Long Hard Road Out of Hell
TV shows: Criminal Minds

There’s only one kind of disco we like…

Did you ever think that Tag: The Movie would be made? If so, kudos to you – because it kind of happened. Humans Vs. Zombies shares it’s name with a popular game of tag that’s pretty self-explanatory. It should come as no big surprise that it’s also one of the major plot points of the movie.

Tag that motherfucker Patrick Wallace!!!

Our opening credits are a pretty blatant rip off of Resident Evil. There are scientists in an ultra-white, ultra-lit laboratory, wearing white biohazard suits and playing around with some Bad News chemicals. Naturally, shit happens and the scientists are zombified. There’s a contamination warning and one of the scientists is forced to shoot the other. Yeah, it’s not familiar at all. At this point I was severely disappointed in the movie, but I had to gently remind myself that it was only the first two minutes. The low-rent heavy metal theme song actually lifted my spirits a bit, because it was sort of catchy – and then the next hour happened.

The laboratory scene cuts to a scene of a predictably beautiful young couple doing some embarrassing, poorly acted frolicking on a beach. It’s like the director told them, “Just flail around and act constipated. Like you don’t really like each other.” If that was their direction, NAILED IT.

I wanted this couple to die horribly right off the bat for no good reason other than their incompetence at looking like they were having fun at the beach totally infuriated me. If you can, just take a minute to imagine me enjoying an afternoon drink (or five) and cheering wildly as a zombie scientist crying tears of blood suddenly showed up on the beach – just after the beach bunny gal with her guido-esque fella was complaining of having some kind of oil all over her. She should know better than to party on the Jersey Shore. We wouldn’t very well have a plot if the couple on the beach would be genre-savvy, killed the zombie, and left (though it certainly would have been less predictable), so the zombie scientist gives our beach vixen the proverbial undead herpes.

Yell! Rating (x/5 Skulls):

2.5 out of 5 stars

Year Released:

2011

Director:

Brian T. Jaynes

Cast/Crew

Dora Madison Burge, Melissa Carnell, Chip Joslin, Jonah Priour, Rheagan Wallace, Christine Bently Quinn, and Frederic Doss

Genre

Comedy, Horror, Sci-Fi

Official URL:

none

Read the verdict for Humans Vs. Zombies after the jump…

“Review Mother’s Day, you freakin’ weirdo. If you don’t, it’ll be cube time.”

“A remake of a cult classic exploitation film about a half-crazed, doting mother whose children are a motley group of cut throat criminals? Haha this sounds like my cup of tea! “ I said.

Then, he started laughing. At first, he started hushed and low, but then grew in intensity and malevolence. He raised his hands, curled his fingers inward and threw his head back in maniacal satisfaction. His laugh echoed through the night as he recognized the cursed fate of this poor, underpaid, hired geek.

At least, that’s how I remember it in hindsight.

Mother’s Day (2010) Trailer

See, Mother’s Day is a tricky film to review – especially when working with horror fans. It definitely shows off the right moves, but something about it is just wrong, something just doesn’t work. It grinds by and grinds by and tries to give off the appearance of a movie that’s horrifying, but in the end, it just winds up horrible.

It is of no benefit to mankind. Allow me to explain why.

After a botched attempt at a bank robbery, three brothers (Patrick Flueger, Warren Kole, Matt O’Leary) try to take refuge at their Mother’s place, but quickly come to realize that the place they once called home is now occupied by a newly married couple, partying hard with a circle of their friends (Jaime King, Frank Grillo, Briana Evigan, Tony Nappo, Kandyse McClure, Lyriq Bent, Shawn Ashmore and Jessie Rusu). What was once a rowdy night in quickly becomes a pseudo hostage situation, as the brothers take over the house, and call in their mother for advice and emotional support. Once mommy (Rebecca De Mornay) arrives, with her daughter in tow (Deborah Ann Woll), she’s appalled at their former home, and – worse yet – knows that a series of cash-filled letters have been mailed to this address, which she’s determined to find, by whatever means necessary.

How’s she gonna do that, you ask? By a series of bits wherein she forces the patrons of the house against one another in a sort of “survival of the fittest,” “who-turns-on-who” sort of thing.

Initially, it looks good on paper. It’s easy to see why one would be delighted, perhaps even vaguely aroused, to come into contact with such a motion picture. It’s an intriguing premise, and you want to see what lengths these people will go to in order to secure their own safety. De Mornay sells the part with a controlled, chilling sense of courtesy that makes for a particularly engaging sort of first act.

“Dear, please don’t bleed so much. It’s bad for your complexion.” 

You feel like you’re in for a treat – a forbidden fruit, if you will. You know you shouldn’t watch, because it’s going to be uncomfortable, but then again, you just can’t move your eyes.

But then somewhere, after a couple of unsettling scenes, something about the whole film turns sour. Something about it just doesn’t feel quite right. It’s wince-inducing, yes, but it all feels so empty, so shallow.

“The hell’s wrong with this movie?” You might think, “I liked it at first, but now I suddenly, I’ve come to wish I was dead.”

Yes, a perfectly normal response, I assure you. What you’ve just witnessed is a phenomena known as One-trick-pony syndrome. Something of a recent discovery in this age of torture porn, but fascinating, nonetheless.

In this case, it’s the repetition of the following scenario;

Someone does something at gunpoint.

Rinse and repeat.

“Happy Mother’s Day, lol”

There, I just saved you two long, frustrating hours that you could have spent bathing the homeless. Mother’s Day’s main problem is that it doesn’t exactly have a plot, nor does it have any likeable characters – the victims back stab each other, and the main villains condone rape, so in the end, you’re confused with as to why the hell anyone would want to watch something like this.

Sure, it tries to put on the guise of suspense (only works when viewers have someone to root for) and tries to play off the violence as a vehicle for its “thematic pillars,” but in the end, it just winds up looking confused and messy and outright stupid. Long story short, the themes aren’t conveyed through violence – they’re simply an excuse.

So you cross your arms, feeling betrayed and pray to Xenu (or your god of choice – me, I only give it up for Xenu) that in the end, there’s some type of resolution. Anything will suffice, really.

You’d be better off praying for them to bring back Ally McBeal because the sad truth is that it’s just not gonna happen. After 120 minutes of self-indulgent circle jerkin’, you’re left with a sorry excuse of an ending, and zero payoff (spoiler alert hur dur)

Mother’s Day presents itself as an exercise in testing your genre mettle. It’s assumed that you’d watch it to see just how much mindless mayhem you can stomach.

In the end, though, it just comes off as a test of patience. It’s the type of movie that suffers from a special kind of profound stupidity – a movie that doesn’t really know how off-beat its delivery really is.

BUT WHO WOULD DO SUCH A THING? What kind of depraved individual would bring about such ruin to the expectant souls of innocent horror fans?

The axles turn, and the gears creak. You mull over this question, and the answer is both enlightening and infuriating.

“Directed by Darren Lynn Bousman – director of Saw II through IV.”

-The torture for the sake of torture.
-The sloppy presentation and structure.
-The kindergarten philosophical treatise.

In a moment of absolute clarity, it all suddenly makes sense…

It all serves to underline the cancer that’s consumed plenty of horror outings for the last six years;
Quality does not matter. If it makes a person uncomfortable, people will pay to see it.

Well, the hell with that – directors shouldn’t treat their fans like a bunch of dumbass kids. A scary movie isn’t supposed to be the cinematic equivalent of that one boy who’d eat worms at recess, just because it grossed so many people out. Don’t get me wrong, Saw (the first) was a good idea, and was executed very well. The problem is that it became a franchise that churned out hollow imitations of itself every single year. Hey, whatever works, man.

Verdict:

2 out of 5 starsThough, I don’t believe it’s a critic’s job to decide what a movie should be, it’s worth warning people when a movie comes off as awful. Film is a vast medium, and truth be told, the more the limits are pushed, the better.

Thing is, pushing limits for the sake of pushing limits leaves your movie feeling transparent. After all, isn’t a party more fun when you have something to celebrate?

Unless you want to really see De Mornay’s affable performance, try to go out of your way to skip this one. Torture fetishists might get a kick out of it, but only insofar as sitting through this film pretty much amounts to self-torture.

While watching a film, an audience reacts best when they feel like they’re really being reached – not molested.

Yell! Rating (x/5 Skulls):

2 out of 5 stars

Year Released:

4 May 2012 (US – Limited Theatrical)

Director:

Darren Lynn Bousman

Cast/Crew

Rebecca De Mornay, Jaime King, Shawn Ashmore

Genre

Drama, Horror, Sci-Fi

Official URL:

Mother’s Day

Presenting the Official Launch Trailer for Max Payne 3, which will arrive next week in North American stores for Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 on May 15th and in Europe on May 18th.

Source: Rockstar Games