Believe it or not, making worst-of lists is a heck of a lot harder than making best-of determinations. The explanation for why may seem specious at first, but follow along anyway. You see, something good stands out for numerous reasons – brilliant direction, monumental acting, a quick and brainy script, an approach to a subject that is fresh and dynamic. Even when that story seems similar and the elements reek of the routine, energy and mood, tone and treatment can all aid in a film’s final aesthetic determination. But with the bad, the facets are sadly familiar – boring execution, non-existing cinematics, lame, ludicrous writing and performances that range from problematic to pathetic. These aggravating aspects never change, they never alter their under-performing patchiness. A crappy effort is a crappy effort, each one feeling similarly unworthy and unacceptable.
So when faced with the mountain of mediocrity a DVD critic is exposed to each year, finding a mere 10 that turn your stomach is an exercise in remembrance and repulsion. Looking back means identifying works that wasted your time, revisiting filmmakers whose arrogance blinded them to their true lack of artistic acumen, and generally re-experiencing the pain of time lost, sensibilities shaken, and interest waned. Again, the same rules apply here as with the Films You’ve Never Heard Of category. The movie itself can be from any year – the digital version, however, had to arrive on the medium in the past 12 months. There are a couple of theatrical releases here, an unfathomably bad TV show, and more than a few homemade movie macabres. Between Joe Bob Briggs’ famous three “Bs” – blood, breasts and beasts” – there’s enough genre junk on hand to send horror back to its pre-Gothic roots.
So grab hold or your aesthetic and wade in cautiously. SE&L‘s 10 Worst DVDs of 2006 have been known to drown even the most adventurous cinematic swimmer:
1. Dark Reality
Dark Reality is a depressing failure, the kind of overly ambitious claptrap that originates out of every fanboy’s camcorder the minute they decide to make a horror film. The creative coupling of Christopher Hutson (whose resume includes a Penthouse video and a how-to sex guide) and three additional writers thinks its clever keeping us, as well as the characters, in the dark about their foul fate. However, it merely creates an instantaneous detachment that can only be reestablished by empathetic individuals and smart scripting. Unfortunately, Dark Reality has neither. Instead, we get a Blair Witch kind of relationship to the actors, able to tolerate them only in very small doses. The minute these grating gals open their mouths to speak, however, we immediately start rooting for the middle-aged murderer whose trapped them.
2. Live Feed
Rumor has it that the father and son team responsible for Live Feed – Canadians Roy and Ryan Nicholson – had the idea for this Asian slaughterhouse atrocity long before Eli Roth created his fright flick masterwork Hostel. If that’s the case, then Mr. Cabin Fever may have the first and only legal claim of backwards plagiarism ever experienced by a mainstream moviemaker. Wanting to be an all out gratuitous gorefest loaded with gallons of overflowing red stuff, what we get instead is a mindless waste of time and talent. The characters are craven archetypes, uninvolving and more than a little irritating, and the storyline tries to be shocking, but only winds up feeling stagnant. By the end, you wonder what you, yourself, can do to prevent this film from ever again destroying a fellow fright fans fear factors.
3. Knight of the Peeper
Somewhere between an old-fashioned exploitation film and the kind of gimpy, gratuitous softcore sagas usually helmed by Fred Olen Ray, Knight of the Peeper is about as unpleasant an entertainment experience as a non-14-year-old adolescent male can have. With a lame narrative and a dearth of feminine delights, anyone who’s not packing pre-or post puberty hormones in uncontrollable boner bushel baskets should probably steer clear of this full-frontal skin flick-a-thon—unless, of course, the thought of various New York/New Jersey strippers showing off their breast augmentation scars gets your geriatric gonads in an uproar. This is nothing more than grating grindhouse material, the kind of seedy smoker reel made by and for dudes who need to pay to know the touch of a woman.
A vampire rewrite that’s so dull, so unbelievably boring, that you’ll wonder what writer/director/actor Jay Reel was aiming for when he foisted this no-budget nonsense on the film-viewing public, Dawn is tedious and talky. It’s a film overripe with narrative, and hampered by its determined anti-horror stance. By draining all the life blood out of the neckbiter genre—hunters are just mutant people who need claret, not cold cuts and cole slaw, to survive—he robs the mythology of its romanticism, its vitality… heck, of just about anything remotely interesting. In its place he finds pages and pages of dialogue, and a collection of actors who don’t understand the difference between performance and merely repeating lines.
5. Survival Island
Though the set-up would suggest that this is regular Skinemax erotica, the truth is far more fleshless. In truth, Survival Island is a sloppy combination of Dead Calm, Swept Away, and a myriad of mindless “two men and a hot chick” testosterone-fueled flops that play on an audiences’ morbid curiosity with flawed fantasy fodder. This is the kind of movie that announces its intentions right off the bat: rich couple coolly looking down at the Latino cabin boy; hot-tempered honey who throws a voodoo curse on our Hispanic hunk’s libido; the accidental if paranormally purposeful disaster at sea; the eventual arrival on a deserted island; the savage sexual tension; the laughably lame dialogue; a few fights; an unexpected death, and, of course, a cruel twist at the end.
6. H6: Diary of a Serial Killer
Hindered by a script that’s all talk and no stalk, and absent even the most elemental eeriness, H6: Diary of a Serial Killer should actually be retitled Boring Murderer with Diarrhea of the Mouth. Ever since Hannibal Lector made the gift of gab frightening, filmmakers have decided that nothing says insane spree slaughter better than a guy who just can’t shut up. Like Brad Garrett as Ed Gein, Fernando Acaso uses his banana oil slicked hairdo as a main character dimension, and runs his yap incessantly while preparing to pare up another prostitute. No matter your penchant for dread, this is the kind of movie that will cure you of your creature feature cravings once and for all.
Hussy is a terrible movie. It offers little in the way of emotional or dramatic intrigue, and takes what seems like cinematic eons to get to its rather vapid points. Captured within this sorry slice of 1980s- era British celluloid is a decent performance from headlining star Helen Mirren, a zombified turn by John Shea, who is completely out of his element here, and a scene-stealing sequence from a Third Act narrative catalyst known as Paul Angelis. As a first-timer whose naiveté is palpable, obviously unskilled at motion-picture practicalities like consistency of tone and clarity of narrative purpose, writer/director Matthew Chapman clouds everything in a veil of unspoken passions and illusory personal secrets. The result is a sloppy character study that actual infers more than it reveals – including entertainment value.
8. Bazaar Bizarre
There are certain things that do not belong in a documentary about serial killers – interviews with individuals who have no direct correlation to the crimes, tentative statements about the extent of the evidence, local bands playing bad blues within a mediocre music video style setting – and yet these are the very elements that self-proclaimed avant-garde “artist” Benjamin Meade uses to tell the story of Kansas City slayer Bob Berdella. All throughout the mock/documentary Bazaar Bizarre, Meade uses the juicy commentary of author James Ellroy (LA Confidential) to provide an outside voice of reason and outrage in the discussion of this madman’s brutal crimes. But the ancillary elements – outright conjecture, songs that explain the case at hand – just sink the story.
9. One Last Thing…
One Last Thing … is unconscionable. At its core is the dim dying wish of its central character, Dylan, an aspiration that’s part symbolic, part softcore pornographic. The notion of a high school sophomore with raging cancer wanting his final days to be spent with a superhot supermodel may seem sensible but, logistically, it’s not really rational. Dylan is just asking for disappointment and Sunny Mabrey’s cynical Nikki does not fail to frustrate. As a matter of fact, the only way she can make up for 80 minutes of miserable treatment is to go jailbait on our hero. The result is an ending that smacks of stupidity and staging, never once touching on the truth of such a sick kid/dream date situation.
10. The Ron White Show
Call it a one off special or a junked attempt at a weekly TV gig, but The Ron White Show is really nothing more than 22 minutes of mindless crap comedy. Frankly, this smart, savvy stand up deserves better. His is a humor based in defeat and humiliation, 20 years of trying to break into the big time and sudden, sensationalized success. If this was the reward he was aiming for, the final prize after decades of struggling, he should have quit while he was a failure. This is a depressingly bad piece of garbage, a watered down version of what White truly stands for. Everything here is filtered through a demographic homogenizer to guarantee that all wit, cleverness and intelligence is weeded out.
// Moving Pixels
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