I always try to take up for the really, really low-end, micro-budget horror filmmakers; they usually have a vision, some spin of their own on the genre we love , and they pull out all the stops to share it with us Fellow Fans. I always try to keep in mind that hey, even if this flick that I’m watching has some serious shortcomings, it’s somebody’s baby; someone loved and believed in it enough to mortgage their home/sell their kidneys or go in debt out the ass just to get it on the screen. If someone thinks that much of it, I feel I’m obligated to try and point out the good things I see, however few there may be; find some bit of positivity to encourage the fledgling auteur to continue to hone their skill, to try harder the next time…at times, my friends, this is a difficult challenge.
Other times, it’s all but impossible.
Home Made is…
…Home Made is a film that someone thought enough of to pay (or beg for someone else to pay) to get made, and since it looks like it may have cost at most a couple hundred bucks, I think that they probably lost their shirt on it.
The film chronicles a serial-killer/filmmaker who videotapes his murders. Sort of. After a really laughable opening and overly-long credit sequence, the first 20 minutes of the film (I’m not exaggerating) involves ten seconds of dialogue where a guy calls his girlfriend to tell her he’s on his way over; we’re then treated to a protracted collage of intercuts: the girl taking a shower, the guy looking for his keys; the girl drying her hair, the guy walking (maybe the keys were for his shoes?); the girl doing laundry, the guy still walking…on and on. There are several ‘murders’ in the film, which is both not surprising (eighty percent of the people in this film, including the killer, fall flat on their faces when running over level ground, and are strangely unable to get up), and very surprising (considering that virtually everyone the killer assaults kicks his ass around a little before finally succumbing to his blade/rock/ninja skills).
The camera work is amateurish (and that’s being kind), and the script (if there really was one) is…well, different, to say the least. All of the dialogue in the first hour of the film would fit on the top quarter of a typed page; when I finally got to where there was a lot of dialogue, I found myself longing for the first hour. Continuity isn’t even on the table; watch for the ‘disappearing hair’ on the boyfriend, not just from scene to scene, but from cut to cut. The acting is…wait, did I say acting? The ‘actors’ in this movie must’ve been folks the producer owed money; watch for the ‘unconscious’ victim that actually begins to smile as she’s being dragged away by the killer. While we’re on the subject of bad acting, the award has to go to the killer himself; he reminded me very much of a coked-up guy doing an impression of Jack Black doing an impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger doing an impression of John Cleese.
Here are a few examples of what you can learn from this movie:
If you chase down and catch the guy that you’re pretty sure brutally murdered your girlfriend, giving him a good rap in the teeth and a passionate ‘fuck you!’ is enough to call things even.
A butter knife can be effectively thrown. And it’s a prime choice for a murder weapon.
If you and your girlfriend are making out on a nice comfortable couch, it makes perfect sense to walk outside and upstairs to a dirty storeroom to have sex on the grimy floor.
A severed limb will continue to bleed freely hours after its separation from the body.
If your wrists are duct-taped together, you are completely immobilized; you cannot stand, fight, nor even move; you will, however, feel compelled to tell your life story to a camera if it’s left in front of you.
I honestly sat and wracked my brain to find something good to say about this flick; I hate to be so harsh, but dammit, I have no choice here. Maybe it was intended to be a farce; maybe it was a student film that some classroom rival lifted and had released to embarrass/discredit this poor guy. I dunno. But out of my respect for you all, Fellow Fans, I gotta say: Unless you are a) a fan of absolutely horrifically bad movies, or b) a complete masochist, for the love of God give this one a pass.
I watched it so you don’t have to.
Donations will be accepted for the therapy. Or a good bottle of Pinot Noir.