Showing posts with label wwe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wwe. Show all posts

Monday, June 15, 2026

Spoiler Alert That the Title Is Not a Spoiler Alert

Sometimes you quickly pick a movie to start your warning and after the two minutes of Amazon commercials, decide it's too late to turn back...even after you see the WWE Studios logo.


Quick Plot: Two very attractive people on a road trip stop for the night to have carefully positioned sex in a dumpy motel. One of them is unnamed but played by Luke Evans, while the other is named Betty. They have some kind of confusingly quiet passion that involves Luke Evans loving another woman and Betty whispering about it.


Nearby, a gang of incredibly stupid thieves begin to rob a large house when the owners show up unexpectedly. Hotheaded Flynn wastes no time shooting them up, much to the chagrin of leader Hoag (the always welcome Lee Tergesen). Later that night, they bump into Betty and Luke Evans at a dive bar. Flynn senses a payday and runs them off the road in the hopes of torturing out some bank passwords. Little does he know what he's gotten his team into.


Turns out, Luke Evans is not just a handsome but quiet lover: he's a cartoon slasher. 


We're talking rip off a guy's ear, stab you with a clipboard, stow away in a giant corpse villain. We don't know why he does what he does, but he's quite good at it. Side hobby? Kidnapping pretty young women to play mind games in the hopes of Stockholm Syndroming them into falling in love/ Or fighting love and wanting independence?


Don't think too hard about this. It will just hurt. 

No One Lives was directed by the very dynamic Ryuhei Kitamura, whose gonzo Battlefield Baseball was a blast (American horror fans would probably know him better for the meh Midnight Meat Train). For me, No One Lives falls somewhere in between. 

I didn't enjoy this movie in the least. BUT, for what it's trying to do, I can't say it doesn't entirely succeed. 

Luke Evans is a star. Classically trained, exceedingly handsome, and boasting of film charisma, he takes No One Lives a very long way to feeling like a real movie. I didn't like the tone Kitamura went for, but I can't say the movie doesn't find it quickly and keep the energy up throughout. 


The characters are stupid. Their actions, pretty senseless. Aside from wrestler Tyrus in a small role, No One Lives doesn't necessarily feel like it should come off as a WWE production except, well, it definitely does. The dialogue might have been written by locking a dozen teenagers in a basement with a copy of Playboy, Nietzsche, and Final Draft. 

For me, that wasn't an enjoyable thing. But if it's YOUR thing, then you'll probably enjoy this movie.


High Points
2012 feels a little late in the torture porn cycle for this level of gore, but if that's what you're looking for, I can't say No One Lives does it poorly

Low Points
Sigh. I'm not generally expecting great dialogue from anything that has the WWE Studios logo on it (though maybe I should since Mike Flanagan's Oculus somehow fits that bill) but let's be very clear: when all of your characters (including the ladies) constantly refer to every female onscreen as a b*tch, you've told me everything I need to know about how the production feels about women




Lessons Learned
A team player and total sociopath are easily confused

If you want to be respected, join a book club

The worst thing about the common criminal is that he's mediocre

Rent/Bury/Buy
No One Lives is a very silly movie that certainly doesn't lack enthusiasm. Watch the trailer to see if it's right for you. 

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Let's Get Ready To Leprechaun



Apparently, the film-seeing public really wanted a serious Leprechaun movie that handled the material with the full weight it--

Oh who am I kidding. I can't joke about this. WWE produced a Leprechaun movie. 


But why, you ask, would they do that?

Well, possibly because they have a little person in their employment and The Miz can only do so many of those ABC Family/WWE coproduction Christmas movies. Plus, they helped distribute Oculus, which was genuinely scary. If they had something (a tenuous something) to do with a good movie about an evil mirror, why, I suppose, shouldn't they find the same luck with a movie about a murderous leprechaun?


Applying the idea of logic to anything having to do with the World Wrestling Feder--er, Enterprise is never a wise move, as See No Evil could certainly tell you. But hey, how can I possibly let a new Leprechaun movie streaming for free on Amazon Prime go unwatched here in the midst of The Shortening?


I'm only human.

And maybe 1/32nd leprechaun.


Quick Plot: A quartet of young and attractive American backpackers who can store all their vacation clothing and essentials in messenger bags are wandering through Ireland on the search for some history. Well, smart Sophie (Stephanie Bennett of The Nine Lives of Christmas fame) wants to see artifacts, her selfish boyfriend wants to be selfish, and the token fun couple wants to have fun.


A friendly customer named Hamish tells Sophie about some secret ancient historical ruins located a few hours from their current location, and smoothly suggesting the group stays at a cabin he occasionally rents out. Because if they say no we don't get a Leprechaun: Origins movie, the kids settle in for the night as Hamish and his grumpy son ominously lock them inside as a sacrifice to you-know-who.

You might be wondering, since we're a good half hour or so into this movie, where the leprechaun might be. For whatever reason (I think I'll use that expression a lot in this review), director Zach Lipovsky (who co-starred in the basketball playing sasquatch movie Big & Hairy) decides to Jaws-ify his villain, giving us mere glimpses for most of the film's brief running time. That would be fine if Leprechaun: Origins was, you know, scary. 


It's not that the movie doesn't try, something that certainly could not be said about most of the original series. The Leprechaun franchise has always been an odd duck in the realm of horror, trying in its early installments to balance terror with laughs only to give up and embrace its own ridiculousness rather immediately. This is a series that went from Lucky Charms jokes to outer space, and that was all before Warwick Davis had to rap in da hood.

On that note, Leprechaun: Origins could have been exceedingly worse. Had its makers gone the "we're so self-aware" route and failed, this could have been a painful, completely hate-worthy experience. Of course, being a self-aware goofy franchise was in part what defined the Leprechaun series to begin with, so taking a 180 turn and giving us a straight-out horror movie with nary a wink is...well, a tad odd.
See, you'd have to travel over a lot of rainbows to find someone who genuinely believes it is possible to make a scary leprechaun movie. Sure, Davis's villain could teleport and pogo stick with flair, but even I can concede that killer leprechauns are not easy material. Perhaps a master of horror could make it work, in the same way that many a talented filmmaker has given the world genuinely terrifying children, dolls, and other Shortening alumni. But, well, that doesn't happen here.


Leprechaun: Origins is not a terrible movie. It's not really even a bad one, more a mediocre straight-to-whatever-format-people-watch-movies-that-don't-get-theatrical-releases horror flick about pretty young people being terrorized by something that will inevitably kill them in predictable order. The pretty young people are your typical brood of bland, although the script flirts with the idea of what it means when your fellow travelers don't react heroically with self-sacrifice. That in itself could have been a big strength in giving the story a new spin, but despite lingering on shots of characters blatantly not stopping to help their injured friend, the movie never seems to actually want to deal with it or its consequences.

So instead with get Dylan "Hornswoggle" Postl's leprechaun, which may as well just be a blood gnome. Postl is a WWE wrestler and, let's face it, probably the main reason the network decided to revive the property. But one of the biggest issues of the movie is the utter anonymity of its titular villain. For as chatty and cliche-spewing charming as Warwick Davis was allowed to be, Postl never makes a sound or really gets a chance to show off his physical skills. He's just there. Kind of like the rest of the movie.


High Points
When--eventually--the leprechaun finally starts to get his hunt on, there are some fairly interesting sparks of violence that suggest what a neater film this might have been if it had been given full reign to go for the rough stuff


Low Points
78 minutes into the film, the credits started to roll.


And roll.


And roll.


I'm a believer in sitting through the credits, not just to count the many wacky nicknames crew members tend to grab, but also because you really just never know if the movie has ended until you give it up for the best boy (usually someone with a name like John "Skippy" Skipton). So I let the television run.

And run.


And run.



In the amount of time Leprechaun: Origins' end credits lasted, I could have done any of the following activities:

- heated up 6 Hot Pockets



- run a mile and an eighth or so



- watched Cher say "wagon wheel watoosi" just long enough to ascend to the next level of nirvana, then sat back for an additional two minutes to enjoy new status of nirvana


And the thing is, THERE IS NO REWARD. Throughout the credits, you get get the same shots of basements and blurry Irish history books dropped in the film, only now bathed in sepia tone. And then there's a violent closeup of The Leprechaun. And then it's all over, and you rewind to confirm that yes indeed, you just experienced a 78 minute movie with a 12 minute end credits sequence. Even Charles Band has never been THAT obvious about padding his running time, and he's Charles Band!

Lessons Learned
Woods are generally filled with lions and tigers and chickens and shit


The eyesight of a leprechaun is a combination of Predator-ish heat vision and random spurts of clear lighting with really blurry figures. Or maybe those scenes were from the point of view of when the leprechaun took his contacts out

Always remember that you have plenty more than an Irishman can steal than a mere 6-pack of Guinness 


COME ONE Lessons For Filmmakers
Look guys, I get it. Hot chicks wearing bras are hot. You know what hot chicks in bras are not? SLEEPING. Women. Don't. Sleep. In. Bras. Male directors who don't wear bras, talk to the women in your life or the actresses in your movie and ask them what they wear to bed. Trust me, it's not a piece of clothing with wires that dig into your sternum designed to keep your breasts in place when being active during the day. Do you wear a tie to bed? EXACTLY. 


Rent/Bury/Buy
Leprechaun: Origins is ultimately a missed opportunity to restart what was a fun, if stupid little franchise. This is by no means the worst new horror movie you'll find on Amazon Prime, but it's certainly among the most frustrating. If you have a specific 78 minute window to fill, it's there. 

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Would You Like To Hear More?

OF COURSE YOU WOULD!


There's really never not a good time to talk about Starship Troopers, Paul Verhoeven's masterpiece of satire, action, and vaginal faced brain bugs sucking Patrick Muldoon's innards out of his soap star dreamface.


I bring up the fourth best film of all time (although all-time best use of ex-90210 cast members) not just because it's Friday, but more because you can hear me discuss it with From the Depth's of DVD Hell's great Elwood Jones over at the debut episode of his podcast Mad, Bad, and Downright Strange.  

And that's not all!


My husband and I took a break from watching Jeopardy! and Murder, She Wrote to record a special guest episode of Married With Clickers, one of my favorite film podcasts out on the interwaves. The topic? 

Only one of the most underrated horror comedies of all time. You can head here to hear the episode. While you're there, be sure to check out the other great offerings of horror reviews for the month. 

Hold on tight! One more...


If you haven't been listening to my regular podcast, The Feminine Critique, then our last episode might bring you back in the fold. My partner in crime Christine and I tackled Mike Flanagan's recent WWE produced (???, seriously) hit Oculus. It's a much stronger and deeper film than its marketing may have suggested. We have lots to say on the matter. 

And now, because I love you, I shall exit with a Clancy Brown slideshow:






Yup. That settles everything.