This film was recommended to me by a friend and literally handed over to me. I felt rather obliged to watch it, despite my hate for everything that goes into this film. But anyway, enough of that. Let’s crack on with Day 45.
Diary of the Dead. A horror film about trying to survive a zombie apocolypse whilst trying to shoot a film.
I had a lot of expectations for this. My friend told me it was ‘a good horror film with funny moments in it’. He’s never recommended films to me before, so I had a lot of hope for it. And a lot of fear, mainly at the idea of me puking all over my friend’s bedroom.
This. Film. Was. Awful.
I don’t really know where to begin. I know I say that a lot, but this time there is so much wrong with the film, that any attempt I’ve made to begin to write about it has resulted in me staring at the keyboard in utter shock. I’ve been told that characters is where I should start. And so that’s where I’ll try to start.
My friend, who watched this film with me, delightfully referred to the ‘characters’ as ‘zombie-fodder’. And those words have never been truer. Seriously, I have never seen less fear in a character as I have in this film. ‘Oh look a zombie. Let’s casually stand about and just stare at them as they draw closer and closer, or maybe walk away slowly. Oh, let’s not forget whinge about random stuff that is really irrelevant, like how fast or slow dead people would walk or maybe how your tits are hanging out’. Honestly, this film was trying to be both funny and scary at the same time, and it failed. Hard. So hard. Stupidly hard. You can’t actually comprehend how hard it failed until you’ve watched it.
The story of this film was so painfully slow. I was willing it to end about 20minutes in, and then further in was begging for death. And one that did not involve me coming back to life unless I was shot in the head. How many times do you need to shoot a zombie in the chest before you realise it’s not going to stop it? You shoot a zombie in the head. Yeah, it dies. Maybe that will work for the next lot. No? Okay, you continue to shoot its ‘heart’. You keep doing that. I’ll just be over here, ignoring the piece of crap you put in front of me.
Oh. Did I mention the offensive level of this film yet? No? Oooh, aren’t you in for a treat. Not only is there some stereotypical black men (you know, because all black men will mug you and talk all ghetto like), there’s a deaf Amish man. Yeah, that’s right. And you know how he’s introduced? They can’t tell if he’s dead, and then he speaks in a manner that I’ve never been more offended by. And then he dies. Yeah. Well done world. Kill the defective. That’s morally right yes?
Oooooh, and then there’s the old couple. Now, I’ve probably mentioned my weakness towards the elderly in pain. It makes me cry, or extremely angry. There is no need to kill the elderly in a film. It’s wrong. What did this film do? I’ll give you three guesses. Guessed yet? I’ll tell you anyway. They killed them. Oh, and for the record. They weren’t even dead. Nope, and they weren’t bad either. Perfectly innocent elderly couple killed by alive people. Ohhhh yes. The murdering bastards that killed them were military soldiers that were put in the film purely for that reason. Do you realise how much of an enemy the film made in me at that moment? *seething*
The amount of words I could write with pure hatred about this film is just too much. So I’m going to stop. Also, I am even more angry about this film because shortly after watching it I discovered that Michael Bay is slaughtering my childhood by making a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle movie…and making them aliens. I…I just…no. I won’t go there. But let’s just say I am currently burning a hole into my laptop screen with my rage filled glare. So yeah. Don’t watch this film. That is all.
Dancing With Jellyfish 