Blown

This is something special. And when you're dealing with something special, you have to take the reigns... grab it by the horns. Let it know who's boss. Blown isn't anywhere near being my boss. It makes me feel queasy. This "film" makes me question humanity and everything that makes it what it is. I start asking questions like "why the hell does a horror flick that centers it's focus on a killer blow-up doll exist?" and "who thought this was a good idea?" I think the only thing I can muster after wondrously burning calories on my ass in my computer chair is simply this: Sitting through all 55 minutes of Blown's full run-time has to be the Guinness Book's world record for the longest suicide attempt ever recorded. And there you have it. No more, no less. I'm not going into anymore detail because I've already decided that no matter what else I watch for the rest of the year, this is it. This is the number one worst film of my year. And I don't think anything will get me to budge.

I'm already anticipating this to be a nice slab of "mastercrap theater".

"This is ass!" Does this guy think he's James Rolfe or something?

 Sloppiest voodoo priestess I've ever witnessed.

Huh. Shrunken heads drink beer. You learn something new everyday.

Cinematography consisting of zooming in on some dude's nose while he's laughing is just amateur craziness.

    I don't think I want to follow a guy in his 70's through a porn store after he just zipped up his fly.

As a man, I like porn just as much as any other guy, but sweet Jesus. It's not that important.

Who the hell directed this, David Prior?

 Sorry. Fake tits. Moving on.

The initial kill by the blow-up doll is sooooooooo fucking disappointing. That's what I get.

After organizing these notes, I've realized something- I have two things to apologize for. The first thing is that I shouldn't have asked if Blown was directed by David Prior because he gave us a couple of cult classics by the names of Sledgehammer and Killer Workout (aka Aerobicide). The reason I scribbled that into my notes ever so viciously was because there is a lot of slow-mo padded scenes contained herein, and even though I didn't like it, it reminded me of the slow-mo in Sledgehammer. So, David Prior, I firmly and wholeheartedly apologize. The second apology goes to you zits and zombies for even making you aware of this movie at all. My condolences. I hope you're happy, Abnormal Entertainment. You've thoroughly destroyed the last tiny grouping of brain cells that I had left. And I was saving those so I could learn how to do my own laundry tomorrow. You sons of bitches.