*note: since IMDb marks the word in the title as prohibited, this particular word is replaced with "beep" in the review...
In case you've never heard of Andreas Schnaas, you're most likely a smart person and probably also have very good taste in cinema! Schnaas is an extremely untalented and lousy German trash-director who made a dozen of low-budget horror movies in a span of more than twenty years, and yet newest movies are still just as worthless as the oldest ones. By all written and unwritten rules of cinema, that pretty much means that Mr. Schnaas doesn't develop. His most (undeservedly) infamous work is an unendurably amateurish gore trilogy with the 200% accurate titles "Violent Beep" parts I, II and III. These poor excuses for motion pictures basically just feature a lot of sickening gore that is poorly accomplished, overlong and incredibly stupid dialogs, miserable acting performances from people that are probably just Schnaas' friends and painfully uninspired camera-work + editing. I struggled myself through part II, couldn't bring myself to finish parts I and III, and I promised myself I would never even attempt to watch another sequel if there ever came one. Yet here I am reviewing a sequel (or remake or whatever they want to call it), but – in my own defense – I had a handful of good reasons to check it out. "Violent Beep: the Movie" is primarily an Italian production and, being a big fan of the Italian horror industry, I was triggered by all the legendary (by cult standards, at least) names that are linked to this production! For instance, the actor receiving top billing is none other than Giovanni Lombardo Radice, and everybody who has seen the titles "Cannibal Ferox", "City of the Living Dead" or "Cannibal Apocalypse" knows that his presence pretty much guarantees gory death sequences! Furthermore there are guest appearances of the awesome horror directors Enzo G. Castellari ("The Last Jaws", "Inglorious Bastards") and Luigi Cozzi ("Contamination", "The Killer Must Kill Again") and the soundtrack is delivered by the almighty Claudio Simonetti from Goblin! Genuine horror/euro-exploitation fanatics don't need any more arguments to see a film, agreed?
And yet, this sadly remains a completely nonsensical piece of pure rubbish that is almost impossible to sit through
Director/co-writer Luigi Pastore comes up with a series of repulsive images, like close up amputations and disembowelment, but there isn't the slightest bit of structure, logic or continuity in the script. What the heck am I writing; there probably wasn't even a script! A maniacal killer, known as Karl the Butcher, roams the streets of Rome 15 years after he was last active in Berlin. German investigator Hans Ebert teams up with his Italian colleague Aristide D'Amato and via a lot of insufferably dumb and tedious conversations, they somehow establish there's a link between Karl the Butcher and the mysteriously eccentric Professor Vassago. Indeed, the latter enjoys resurrecting Karl the Butcher and controlling him like a sock-puppet, but I absolutely don't have a clue how or for what purpose he does so. Just like his "big example" Andreas Schnaas, Luigi Pastore doesn't have any knowledge about how to narrate a story, build up tension or insert character development. The film is a spitfire of badly angled camera viewpoints, horrendous dialogs and pointless padding footage. I probably don't have to add that the players are miserable amateurs and their English language skills are simultaneously laughable and pitiable. Even experienced actors, like Giovanni Lombardo Radice, adapt themselves to the bottom-of-the-barrel standards of this production. He looks somewhat like a retarded version of Max Shreck in "Nosferatu" and shouts a whole lot of things that don't make any sense. Quite a few scenes balance on the edge of being pornographic and the blood & splatter – although plentiful – couldn't upset a small child. Simonetti's music is great, but I refuse to give an extra point for this, as this film deserves a rating 1/10 more than any movie I've ever seen.
