Frozen Flesh

Just in case this is the first you've heard of this "film": This is not a real movie. It is, apparently, an attempt at a practical joke. All the "reviews" quoted on the poster are completely fabricated by the director, and there is absolutely nothing to be gained from watching this "movie."

Let me start by saying that I enjoy a good joke at the expense of others as much as the next d-bag. At least in principle, I'm totally on board with the notion of playing a joke on all the dumb wannabe film critics that have infested the internet, who think that posting a bunch of irate, vitriolic movie reviews rife with spelling errors will make them look smart. Such people frequently complain about how these sub-par films have "wasted" their time, as if they would have used that time to find a cure for cancer if only the awful filmmakers of the world weren't forcing them to watch all these worthless movies.

Needless to say, I'm generally supportive of any scheme designed to take such people down a peg, and as I understand it, Frozen Flesh was intended to be just such a scheme. In my opinion, it wasn't a complete failure in that sense. If you poke around a little on any film/horror review website, you're bound to find page after page of angry, indignant "movie buffs" ranting and raving about how director Justin French has wasted their time an violated their brains.

But that doesn't make Frozen Flesh worth watching. It may very well be the most pointless, least worthwhile sequence of images ever caught on camera. Regardless of the director's intent, Frozen Flesh is a spectacular cinematic failure, and no amount of amusingly angry pseudo-critics is going to change that. In fact, it's so bad that it actually gives some credibility to those infuriated reviewers, which is where I start to take issue with it. While I can see the humour in playing a joke on self-important morons who take themselves too seriously, nobody likes being lied to, and that seems to be exactly what Justin French set out to do in making this "film": he blatantly deceives viewers "for the lulz," and that's pretty tasteless and mean-spirited, even by my standards.

At the end of the day, what Frozen Flesh really amounts to is a film that's not worth watching, and a joke that's not that funny. Even if you're not going to find the cure for cancer, your time would be better spent doing anything other than watching Frozen Flesh.

"Frozen Flesh" was so awe inspiringly bad, based solely on the fact that it wasn't actually a movie. It was a guy moving a knife up and down for 100 minutes. I was, however, shocked that somebody could sit there that long without developing severe back pain, or possibly scoliosis. I have my doubts that this movie was actually serious.

Let's see. Not much to review here. A guy picks up a knife, and... uh... knifes. The end. Movie over. I have just saved you 140 minutes of your time. Is this one of those subliminal propaganda movies, or possibly a movie designed to torture terror suspects until they go insane? I suspect such is true. It could be a signal to the Caped Crusader, or something of that nature. We'll never know.

So, thank you Justin French, for almost wasting 140 minutes of my life (was more like 5 - thank heavens for fast forward on YouTube!) I'm not even sure what the point of this movie was, or why anyone would spend any time making it? Why? Why!!!???

If you can watch this P.O.S to end, you deserve a pat on the back.

This the single worst horror film ever made. There are seven scenes in the whole film, one of which that includes a man stabbing the air for seventy minutes.

Also, There is no real story and the red tone color gave me a headache.

Overall, there is nothing much else to say about this mess. It can hardly even be thought of as a film, just random shots of nothing.

Please take my warning: Never (and I mean never) even consider watching this trash.

Justin French = Talentless hack.

Let's begin with the opening credits: each title stays on screen for about 45 seconds each: the title itself, the production credits, which consist of only the name Justin French repeated several times, then a lengthy shot of a burning candle, which goes on for two-and-a-half minutes! then a lengthy shot of someone playing with a dripping faucet and water running down the drain, then chocolate syrup spiraling down the drain, which must go on for nearly ten minutes.

And there is no less than two hours of this spellbinding masterwork.

The director/ writer/ producer/ cinematographer/ editor/ composer of this two hour sleeping pill (who was supposedly only 19 years old when he came up with this one) claims that he had something to say about how very lousy movies can be filmed and distributed, often times on a minuscule budget, and that by doing so does not necessarily make one a "film maker", and that just simply moving to L.A. and releasing something also does not mean that one is a "film maker". But any point he might have had is drowned out in these two hours of LENGTHY shots of, well, basically nothing. The movie is basically about a half dozen lengthy (silent) shots of absolutely nothing happening, besides a candle flickering endlessly, water boiling in its entirety, a hand playing with a dripping faucet, etc., filmed through the deepest red filter on the face of the earth and stretched out as long as possible, and then shown even longer for maximum torturous effect. During the "boiling water" sequence, what sounds like an electric razor is dubbed in loudly in the background, the rest of the soundtrack is pre-recorded noises, which sounds like a five-year-old child playing around on a keyboard bought at a flea market in 1981.

In the last sequence, a "Mass Murderer" with a butcher knife, wearing a Freddy Kruger-like striped shirt stabs at the air and at some off-screen object in slow motion endlessly, before we are shown the exact same scant production credits in the exact same slow-as-can-be manner as we had at the start. This "Mass Murderer" (who, not that this matters, is never actually shown killing anyone) hides his face behind a black stocking, and for good reason.

Like some sort of experimental film Andy Warhol might have done back in the 1960s, only much, MUCH worse. It actually did remind me of Warhol's 'Empire' (the eight hour film consisting of a motionless shot of the Empire State building) in that it shows endless shots of nothing happening, with no real point to any of it.

This can legally be viewed for free on at least two movie download sites. Go ahead, watch it. Or try to anyway. Then the next time someone starts rambling about Ben And Arthur, and it's the lowest rated film on IMDb (like that really makes any difference one way or the other) tell them about this monstrosity.

You know what we learned kids? If you don't have talent, then DON'T MAKE A MOVIE. You don't want to end up like Justin French! That's right, kids! I'm talking about the guy behind this piece of dump. He's made some, oh not good, but not bad, but REALLY boring and the most awful sheet I've ever witnissed. What is this anyway? I can't watch this any longer. I had high hopes for this film, thinking it would be another one of those cheesy gore movies. Plot? It claims to have a killer burglar cooking and literally eating his victims. This could be one of the most best things to ever come to film, but what do we get? 112 fricking minutes of NOTHING! How do these films get made? Just how? Justin does show some hints and facts that he REALLY doesn't even try at all. Also why is the only character in this movie named "The Mass Murderer"? He does no killing at all, but only swings at the air at the not bloody knife, that we're supposed to believe that's the victim, but this movie has only one actor, so we'll just say he's swining at no body. The whole movie... Well what do you wanna know? It must be seen to be believed! Now let's get to the effects. The only budget put into this movie is that fake hand you can always get at a halloween store, and chocolate syrup poured into a sink, thinking that's blood. So, what to say about this. IT SUCKS IT SUCKS IT SUCKS THE END.