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Whatever audience there was for Inferno, it was probably not the one that the movie wanted. Here’s a dumbed-down but still pretty blatant Yojimbo rip-off that anyone who has watched that film could easily identify — but then, most people who are fond of Kurosawa probably wouldn’t bother with a Jean-Claude Van Damme flick.

ninetypercentcrapmoviereviews.

This is the kind of movie where people get zapped by thunderbolts left and right, but one of the heroines can raise a sword above her head outdoors and somehow doesn't instantly turn into a human lightning rod.

ninetypercentcrapmoviereviews.

You People is not, as it would like to have you believe, so much a product as it is a victim of its times. The filmmakers tried so hard to be timely that they can’t help coming across as opportunistic. They wanted to capture the zeitgeist but what they’ve come up with has inspired me to coin the term shitgeist.

ninetypercentcrapmoviereviews.

The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster is a socially (un)conscious Frankenstein/The Monkey’s Paw/Pet Sematary knockoff that knows the words but not the music.

ninetypercentcrapmoviereviews.

Here’s a movie so lazy that ripping off other people’s ideas represents too much of an effort — instead, it’ll just tell you what it would like to be a rip-off of.

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Some apocalyptic horror movies are about preventing/facilitating the birth of the antiChrist. Others have to do with forestalling the rebirth of Jesus. Deliver Us is a twofer, featuring an Apocalypse Maiden who, by way of a rare Mystical Pregnancy/heteropaternal superfecundation combo, becomes the mother of bi-paternal twins — “one … a conduit for the light. The other, a conduit for the Beast.” Talk about your double whammy.

ninetypercentcrapmoviereviews.

According to this film, “everything is both ... Good is bad, and sometimes bad is good.” And smart is dumb, and dumb smart. When you put it that way, this is a really good, very smart movie. Kind of like ‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty’ if Keats had been a complete fucking idiot.

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Why oh why couldn’t this have been a movie about three black people setting up and running their own church? Clichéd though that might have been, it’d still be better than what we actually get.

ninetypercentcrapmoviereviews.

Gabriel is just like Wings of Desire/Faraway, So Close if Wim Wenders were a complete fucking moron. Hell, even City of Angels is better than this shit.

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This movie makes the prophet Muhammad, who is often (barely) seen awash in a sea of blinding CGI sunlight, look less like a holy man and more like a holy-gram.

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I’m not a fan of Alfred Hitchcock, and even I would complain that this biopic isn’t hitchcockian enough. Maybe the idea was to show a seldom seen (i.e., mostly made up) side of the titular filmmaker; if so, it should have remained never seen.

ninetypercentcrapmoviereviews.

I know that revenge is a dish best served cold, but this is ridiculous. Who writes an entire fucking novel just to frame someone else?

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Slotherhouse is a horror comedy that doesn’t take itself at all seriously, made by people who take more pride in their craft than most contemporary straight-up horror filmmakers. This is every bit as silly as you can expect a movie about a killer sloth to be, but only about half as dumb as you would expect a killer sloth movie to be.

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That Awkward Moment would be a perfect title except that it’s not just a moment; it’s an awkward 90 minutes. Awkward and contrived and clunky. The main characters all have intimacy issues. You know how I know that? Because they all fuck with their clothes on.

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What a confounded mess this thing is. I call it a movie only for want of a better term. Its heart is in the right place, but its head is irretrievably jammed way up its ass.

ninetypercentcrapmoviereviews.

Red Dragon is the superior version of this story, and not simply because of the star power involved but mostly because, yes, there are a lot of big names here, but it isn’t by any means a case of stunt casting.

ninetypercentcrapmoviereviews.

“To tell a story it’s not enough just to know how to write. You also need to be brave enough to tell it,” says the heroine. You need to be even braver to tell it if you don’t know how to write, and in that sense the scriptwriter must be the bravest motherfucker that ever lived. Or the dumbest.

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JP

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