Over the past few years, I’ve developed many a crush on many a beautiful starlet. I can say without fear of contradiction or regret, Emma Fitzpatrick is the perfect deaf scream queen. She plays the heroine in this magical pile of Hollywood excrement and is the only redeeming quality to this massacre of ideas. Granted, the German shepherds didn’t suck and pulled off their parts pretty well. But between the dogs and her, yeah, I’m sure that’s where the worthwhile stops.
A mad man murders entire parties full of people with Saw/Jigsaw-esque devices and from each of those crime scenes, he kidnaps one of the few victims left alive, to torture and experiment on. Of course, that’s not enough plot for the genius that wrote this garbage. So, when The Collector’s experiments fail, he staples a replica Phantom Of The Opera mask on them and injects them with enough uppers that they turn into zombie type creatures that are hellbent on destruction. Or is it because zombies sell tickets these days? Also, OF COURSE HIS EXPERIMENTS ARE GOING TO FAIL! HE’S WORKING WITH CRUDE TOOLS IN A HOTEL! But, of course, he doesn’t realize he’s not an evil mastermind that’s skilled with machinery and genetic research and martial arts and engineering.
Look. Emma Fitzpatrick is hot. And short hair on a woman? Yes please. But making a movie mash-up of all of the top grossing horror films of the past ten years might be the worst idea ever. Casting Emma was the only thing they did right. And there weren’t a single set of boobs in this whole thing. Well, living boobs, I should say. You can’t have an alchemical filmmaker’s wet dream without a set of tits.
Don’t see this. Don’t feed the machine that runs on remakes and “original” ideas that plagiarise worthwhile movies. Don’t talk about this movie. Don’t ask about this movie. Pirate it if you wanna see it. Buy it from the black dude bootlegging movies down the street from where you get your morning coffee and watch it in the privacy of your own home and then toss that disc in the microwave when you realize I’m right.
Final Grade: No. No. No.
(Emma, if you read this, I don’t hate you. But think we should probably go on a date to discuss what you were thinking when you agreed to take this role. And yes, I expect a dry hump at the end of the date.)