input question: Select the correct sentiment of the following review: German filmmaker Ulli Lommel has managed a task many horror fans thought was impossible: he's unseated fellow Teuton Uwe Boll for the crown of director of the worst horror film ever made.

Lommel is truly the Ed Wood of the new millennium. This film is as shoddy and laughable as the best-worst of EW. I am both proud and embarrassed to say that I watched it in toto, morbidly fascinated to see just low the bar could be set. The answer is: subterranean; Lommel dug a pit and buried it.

The fun begins with the cast of international nobodies. Only someone who has lived in Los Angeles, where every auto mechanic, doctor and mailman is an actor or screenwriter waiting to be discovered, could easily understand how Lommel managed to find so many wannabe actors willing to spew his ridiculous dialog with a straight face.

The main character, a villainous beat cop, is played by a German actor with a thick German accent. Aside from being a serial killer, he is also the oldest beat cop in LA. Despite the fact that he stops innocent women drivers and takes them into custody, then drags them into his home (which inexplicably is the top floor of a furniture warehouse), and does all this in plain sight of his rookie partners, the LAPD refuses to investigate, going so far as to physically attack one of his accusers in a ninja style raid on his apartment.

The sets are excruciatingly bad. The production designer's budget apparently included just enough money for a can of paint; enough to paint "Precinct 707" on a cardboard wall.

Since the actors were obviously unpaid non-professionals--a sad assortment of European emigres (possibly deportees if they acted in their native lands), bimbos, mimbos, and desperate middle-aged women--and since little if any money was spent on sets, special efx, locations or other production value, it is only fair to mention that they did spring for a few genuine-looking police uniforms. Sadly, they couldn't afford a police car; the uniformed cops cruise the streets in a shiny new Mercury rental.

More than half of the story focuses on the dirty deeds of our deranged German LAPD officer and the futile efforts of two young rookies to stop him. One of these young actors is especially pitiable because he's the only actor in this whole mess with even a vague shot at a real career in the movies. The other fits right in, with a rockabilly hairdo and tortured Brando posing that needs to be seen to be appreciated.

The latter part of the film is where the title gets its zombie, as the victims of our killer are resurrected after he murders a girl who had just visited some voodoo priestesses to have a protective spell put on her. Don't ask why a girl from Romania would resort to voodooism in anticipation of being murdered, just accept Lommel's logic and enjoy the absurd ride.

After much prolonged hand-clawing out of straw-covered roadside graves, the zombie girls manage to make their appearance. They look exactly as they did before death, maybe even prettier, with black glamor make-up generously airbrushed around their eyes. Looking nothing like zombies, they look more like high fashion models ready for the runway.

At this point in the movie Lommel borrows a creative note from his lauded countryman Boll, and injects large doses of cheesy Euro-trash techno into the soundtrack. We're talking prehistoric electronic bumblebee noise. Stuff they might have played in an Ibiza disco when Lommel was still young enough to shake his booty.

Unlike other zombies, Lommel's girls speak and function as normal... er, I mean, as they did before becoming zombified. This gives our auteur ample opportunities to shower us with more of his golden dialog. Yes, a golden shower it is.

I won't spoil anything by revealing the shock ending. All I can say is it's perfectly in tune with the rest of this masterpiece. The spirit of Ed Wood lives on... or should I say his geist.
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output answer: negative

input question: Select the correct sentiment of the following review: Dragon Fighter is the first Sci-Fi Channel (although I guess it's now called Syfy?) original movie I have ever seen. But I have seen one or two others since, and I can tell you that they were stupid, but this one really scrapes the bottom of the barrel. The CGI is done poorly, the acting is bad, the script is ridiculous, and what happens at the very end is unexpected and out of place (if you have seen Dragon Fighter, you probably know what I mean; I didn't want to put a spoiler in my review). Plus, there was this one musical tune that was used in pretty much every single dangerous sequence. That was really stupid; they just played it over and over. And it's definitely not original; I know I've heard that somewhere before (I just can't remember where). This is one to avoid.
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output answer: negative

input question: Select the correct sentiment of the following review: THE NIGHT LISTENER (2006) **1/2 Robin Williams, Toni Collette, Bobby Cannavale, Rory Culkin, Joe Morton, Sandra Oh, John Cullum, Lisa Emery, Becky Ann Baker. (Dir: Patrick Stettner)

Hitchcockian suspenser gives Williams a stand-out low-key performance.

What is it about celebrities and fans? What is the near paranoia one associates with the other and why is it almost the norm?

In the latest derange fan scenario, based on true events no less, Williams stars as a talk-radio personality named Gabriel No one, who reads stories he's penned over the airwaves and has accumulated an interesting fan in the form of a young boy named Pete Logand (Culkin) who has submitted a manuscript about the travails of his troubled youth to No one's editor Ashe (Morton) who gives it to No one to read for himself.

No one is naturally disturbed but ultimately intrigued about the nightmarish existence of Pete being abducted and sexually abused for years until he was finally rescued by a nurse named Donna (Collette giving an excellent performance) who has adopted the boy but her correspondence with No one reveals that Pete is dying from AIDS. Naturally No one wants to meet the fans but is suddenly in doubt to their possibly devious ulterior motives when the seed is planted by his estranged lover Jess (Cannavale) whose sudden departure from their New York City apartment has No one in an emotional tailspin that has only now grown into a tempest in a teacup when he decides to do some investigating into Donna and Pete's backgrounds discovering some truths that he didn't anticipate.

Written by Armistead Maupin (who co-wrote the screenplay with his former lover Terry Anderson and the film's novice director Stettner) and based on a true story about a fan's hoax found out has some Hitchcockian moments that run on full tilt like any good old fashioned pot-boiler does. It helps that Williams gives a stand-out, low-key performance as the conflicted good-hearted personality who genuinely wants to believe that his number one fan is in fact real and does love him (the one thing that has escaped his own reality) and has some unsettling dreadful moments with the creepy Collette whose one physical trait I will leave unmentioned but underlines the desperation of her character that can rattle you to the core.

However the film runs out of gas and eventually becomes a bit repetitive and predictable despite a finely directed piece of hoodwink and mystery by Stettner, it pays to listen to your own inner voice: be careful of what you hope for.
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output answer:
positive