The Last Horror Movie (2004)
Surprise-free attempt at horror-movie provocation spends most of its running time stealing material from Man Bites Dog until the not-as-clever-as-it-thinks ending, at which point it changes gears and steals material from Funny Games. This wouldn't necessarily be a problem -- great cinema can involve a degree of theft, as Quentin Tarantino has repeatedly demonstrated -- except that director Julian Richards exhibits little of the materials that made his source materials so effective. His film lacks the absurd tonal perfection of Man Bites Dog, and his main character Max is devoid of the disquieting joviality (almost likeability) that made the Belgian film so much more than a serial-killer mock-doc. And as for the climax, Richards has neither the balls nor the formal and thematic mastery of Michael Haneke, and his go-for-broke gambit lacks the subtlety of Funny Games. (Think about that. This film is less subtle than Haneke's cinematic blunt instrument.) Where does that leave us? The proper answer to that question is, I believe, "covered in shit." Also Mister Richards, if you're going to try and exploit the premise you've conceived, be advised that it completely does not work on DVD. Also, it might have been a wise idea not cut immediately to credits after the final line of dialogue, as doing so destroys any kind of creepy vibe you were trying to leave the audience with, you talent-free fuckhead.
Grade: C-
Surprise-free attempt at horror-movie provocation spends most of its running time stealing material from Man Bites Dog until the not-as-clever-as-it-thinks ending, at which point it changes gears and steals material from Funny Games. This wouldn't necessarily be a problem -- great cinema can involve a degree of theft, as Quentin Tarantino has repeatedly demonstrated -- except that director Julian Richards exhibits little of the materials that made his source materials so effective. His film lacks the absurd tonal perfection of Man Bites Dog, and his main character Max is devoid of the disquieting joviality (almost likeability) that made the Belgian film so much more than a serial-killer mock-doc. And as for the climax, Richards has neither the balls nor the formal and thematic mastery of Michael Haneke, and his go-for-broke gambit lacks the subtlety of Funny Games. (Think about that. This film is less subtle than Haneke's cinematic blunt instrument.) Where does that leave us? The proper answer to that question is, I believe, "covered in shit." Also Mister Richards, if you're going to try and exploit the premise you've conceived, be advised that it completely does not work on DVD. Also, it might have been a wise idea not cut immediately to credits after the final line of dialogue, as doing so destroys any kind of creepy vibe you were trying to leave the audience with, you talent-free fuckhead.
Grade: C-
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