I'm asking myself how it is I came to this place in my life that I could willfully sit through something this bad and not have sucked out my own soul through my mouth with a truck mounted industrial vacuum and incinerated it in a pool of igneous rock forming magma, then thrown what was left of me in the makings of a lodge fire for kindling.
If this was based on a true story as claimed, I empathize with the sheer sterilizing boredom the original persons must have felt for having gone through this. If you can imagine the most shallow, slow-witted, idiotic people conceivable, and then multiply that x 4, you'll be thinking of people smarter than the starring cast of this pseudo-movie. While the plot itself might have been the only salvageable evidence at the scene of this train wreck, it's quickly torn asunder by the abysmal direction, a script produced in a 2nd grade class project, and the cringe-inducing acting of its mentally challenged cast.
Just when you're thinking this can't possibly be serious, the soundtrack starts playing in what I'd best describe as those free CD's they giveaway for buying stereo equipment. Y'know, the one's labeled 'Music'. If there was something that was supposed to be scary in this movie, between the laughter during what was intended to be poignant moments, and the rush to find earplugs when the soundtrack starts braying, you'll fast see that any entertainment value in this wannabe b-movie quickly loses its novelty. The only marginally redeeming possibility for this tripe once you hit the halfway mark, might have been found in some random gratuitous nude scene with one of the few ill-cast brainless token girlfriend characters, which sadly, never happens. How these actors aren't all wearing safety helmets and name badges is the only thing 'scary' about this straight-to-DVD stinker.
If you haven't stopped this slow motion car accident before it ends, you'll want to point fingers at someone for stealing this time from your life, or if like me, for having fought a grueling war of attrition to endure it all without your face spontaneously exploding. As much as I'd like to blame it on the burgeoning independent film scene in Kentucky, or Illinois, or wherever this pile is from, or even on York Home Video, I can't, because this is in fact the worst 'thing', in my knowledge, to have come from either state, or the Distributors ever, all time. If you're like me you'll find some consolation in using your new DVD as a dog fetch throw toy, or chilled lager coaster.
