How terrifying can these demons be if Roger Federer's boyfriend Gavin Rossdale is one of them?

Rating: Null/10 (13 December 2014)

You wanna hear a good joke? Rachel Weisz – police detective. Hilarious, huh? I've got another one: Tilda Swinton – as angel Gabriel. Want more? This one's even funnier: Tilda Swinton as angel Gabriel telling Keanu "you're f**cked". I half-expected a "yo, bro" to be thrown in there as well.
But here's the best joke of them all: Shia LeBoef – horror-movie superhero-sidekick comic-relief actor. If you're immune to annoying actors, you might be forgiven for thinking that his name was the joke here – although, in all fairness, his name IS damn funny.
I'm not out of bad jokes yet, and neither is this horribly cast movie. How about this one: Gavin Rossdale in a horror film – as a semi-demon, sort of a Hell-beast Halfling. I mean, we already know he is half-man half-mouse, but telling us he's half-demon as well is definitely stretching our patience and imagination – not to mention the basics of mathematics since both halves are already taken. Roger Federer's Numero Uno fan and secret gay lover. Bromance shromance: their love is real. Federer's marriage is a Travolta-like sham and both sets of his twins are test-tube babies. But I digress. This is a review of a Keanu flick.
Honestly, the way this movie's abysmal casting was unfolding, I was half-expecting Al Sharpton to appear as Satan. Although, admittedly that would at least make some sense. Clearly, the casting director is high on crack, pretty much all of the time. I hope he got his act together after all these years, so perhaps he isn't preparing to cast Matt Damon as the Dalai Lama, or Jennifer Aniston as a sexy woman.
Also cocaine-happy is the script-writer. He makes Rachel a god-fearing Catholic who is adamant about having a Catholic funeral for her sister, even stooping so low as to actually degrade herself by begging a boy-fondling Catholic priest to grant her sister a proper religious burial so she doesn't end up in hell – yet that same day she tells Keanu that she doesn't believe in the Devil. Say what? Sure, most of us know that Catholics are very confused creatures, but even they ought to be able to follow the simplest rules of the religion they abide to. To summarize: Weisz believes in Hell – fears her sister will end up there – yet doesn't believe in the Devil. Who the hell does she think runs Hell then? Mahatma Gandhi? Che Guevara? Adolf Hitler? Joe Stalin? Evita Peron? (Admittedly, all those could run it, and run it well.)
Keanu acts pretty weird too; after coming back from a brief visit to Hell – which is supposed to be burning hot, last time I checked a raving and ranting sermon - he asks Rachel for some food, not water. So the Catholic Oven evokes hunger? What the hell is wrong with this writer? Still, at least the writer has a sense of humour; he informs us that in order to visit Hell, all you need is one bathtub, 50 gallons of water, and one Keanu Reeves to drown you in it. That's a hoot.
The movie does redeem itself somewhat by the surprising appearance of Peter Stormare as the Horned One (or at least the Bald One, in this case), and he doesn't disappoint. However, nothing and nobody could have truly remedied the anguish of having to watch androgynous Tilda Swinton impersonate an angel – or just having to see Tilda Swinton, period. Her/his/its "performance" is the worst I've ever seen of any actor trying to do an angel – Gabrielish or otherwise – in the history of horror or comedy. This blue-blooded in-bred pink-orange mutant from a age-old inferior lineage of Scottish nobility (a result no doubt of centuries of Swintonian uncles molesting their Swintonian nieces), with her curly ginger locks and thick manly goalkeeper hands, lends the movie an air of absurdity and lack of seriousness that it doesn't deserve – even as a flick based on a stupid comic-book. After all, the script isn't essentially bad, and the action scenes and visual effects are fine.
The less said about Federer's love interest, the better. Except that he's one of the worst post-grunge Cobain imitators on record, during his brief but profitable corporate-sponsored heyday(s) as the frontman of Bush – ironically named so considering that he swings the other way. Which way? Switzerland, as I'd already mentioned.