Contemptible muck

Rating: 2/10 (14 September 2006)

Let's get one thing straight: Eli Roth is a dirt bag and Quentin Tarantino is an even bigger dirt bag for lending his 'oh-so-venerable' name to this vacuous mess of a film.
The core idea of the film is good. In fact it had the potential to become one of the most gut-wrenching horrors of all time. The idea of a business that captures and provides helpless victims for wealthy sadists who like to vent their frustrations by shoving power-drills into people's eye sockets is bloody terrifying, especially since, in this day and age, we know that somewhere in the world that idea is probably a reality. However, when the director is Eli Roth who can't seem to see anything past his permanently erect penis, the potential for a structured horror movie becomes marred with senseless sex scenes that serve no other purpose than to pacify Roth's miscreant compulsions.
If I want to watch a porno I will go to an adult video store and rent a porno. When I watch a horror film, I do not expect to have to sit through an hour of giggling nymphets with gigantic breasts copping off with each member of the male cast, as well as each other.
The three lechers in question start off their escapades by sampling the offerings of perhaps all of Amsterdam's red light districts before heading off to Bratislava where, according to some random sleaze-ball with a mole on his lip, the girls are more wanton than pigs in heat. They check into this hostel where even the receptionist looks like she warped out of 'Naughty Nurses II' and become roomies with two flirty, 25 inch-waisted, ample-breasted Slovakians. Clearly it's a dream holiday for any man who has never heard of venereal diseases.
However things turn nasty when one of their compadres disappears...cue the cheesy doom-impending trumpets from the 1930's. The film then descends down the usually trail of illogical pitfalls and contrived coincidences pervading most horror movies. Our hapless goons follow complete strangers around the alleyways of Bratislava looking for information in derelict warehouses (obviously the first place you'd visit after checking out of a hostel). And as the gloved hands reach out of the shadows and strap them into rusty, metal chairs in a room cluttered with sharp gardening utensils they realise too late that they've been led into a trap. Who would have suspected such treachery from the brunette with the evil laugh and perfect tits? The torture scenes that follow are tense and a little cringy power-drills, chainsaws, blowtorches, wire clippers- but they are still tame in comparison with Takeshii Mike's Audition, since the camera usually flicks away for most of the sick shots, and since we feel absolutely nothing for the victims it seems little more than violence for the sake of it, another form of porn.
Of course fortune smiles on one boy who manages to escape through a string of unbelievable conveniences: his retarded torturer slips on a pair of fingers lying on the floor and shreds himself in half with his own chainsaw. After our guy breaks free he finds a snazzy business suit to conceal himself in, a glove to cover his severed hand, a pistol to shoot bad guys with and an escape car with the keys still in the ignition.
Towards the end of the film the violence becomes so random and sensationalized it's almost comical: As he drives out he happens upon the two girls responsible for his capture and rams into them at full speed. A group of young vandals, paid with bubblegum, cover his ass by smashing in his pursuers' heads with rocks and crowbars. An unfortunate Japanese girl who also escapes the torture chambers spots her mutilated, one-eyed reflection and despairingly throws herself in front of an oncoming train. And just when you think the bloodbath has run dry, he spots the man who killed his best friend, follows him into a restroom and slits his throat. I guess we're supposed to realise that our protagonist has become what he was initially victimized by, but if you're like me you will see it as nothing more than a vulgar excuse for mindless evisceration.
This entire film seemed to be fashioned around violence and sex, like Roth had all these fantasies of different ways in which he could show women with their clothes off and niggling thoughts about the most excruciating way to kill a man and then weaved a script around that. The dialogue is pathetic, full of numb headed frat boy humour and rainbow hued profanity. The acting is quite stilted, except maybe during the torture scenes, but heck, anyone can scream non stop for five minutes. The music is cheesy and out of sync with what is happening on screen, blasting out ominous tones when their is absolutely nothing ominous about the scene.
I have not seen Cabin Fever, but I have heard it was made in the same vein, ergo I will not be watching it. I must seriously discredit Eli Roth's ability as a film director. His films have all the half baked emptiness of a porno.