House of the Dead

Cast of Characters:
Rudy – Jonathan Cherry
Simon – Tyron Leitso
Salish – Clint Howard
Alicia – Ona Grauer
Jordan Casper – Ellie Cornell
Greg – Will Sanderson
Karma – Enuka Okuma
Liberty – Kira Clavell
Cynthia – Sonya Salomaa
Hugh – Michael Eklund
Castillo Sermano – David Palffy
Capt. Victor Kirk – Jurgen Prochnow

Director – Uwe Boll
Writer – Dave Parker & Mark Altman
Based on the video game The House of the Dead by Sega Corporation & WOW Entertainment
Producer – Uwe Boll, Wolfgang Herold & Shawn Williamson
Distributor – Artisan Entertainment
Running Time – 90 minutes
Rated R for pervasive strong violence/gore, language and some nudity.

College friends Simon (Tyron Leitso) and Greg (Will Sanderson) have booked a boat trip to attend an island rave located off the coast of Seattle named Isla del Morte, which translates to Island of Death.

And none of that sets off any red flags for you? Not even a mild shade of pink?

After meeting up with three girls, Alicia (Ona Grauer), Karma (Enuka Okuma) and Greg’s girlfriend Cynthia (Sonya Salomaa), they discover that the boat they paid for is gone. But never fear, they run into Capt. Victor Kirk (Jurgen Prochnow) and his first mate Salish (Clint Howard).

Okay, seriously? Capt. Kirk? C’mon, man.

The group makes an offer for Capt. Kirk to transport them to this Island of Death. However, the boating duo are extremely hesitant to do so, for no local wishes to approach the infamously named island due the sinister lore behind it.

Although, the name alone should do the trick, but alas, here we are.

Yes, absolutely no one has any desire to transport people to this island.

Are you listening to me? Pay attention, ’cause under. no. circumstances. will anyone – and I mean ANYONE – get transported to this island.

Please, for the love of God, understand this. These locals avoid that island like the fucking plague. You, nor anyone else, will never even scratch the surface of ever, ever, ever… EVER entertaining the idea of getting a ride over to this death island.

Well, soooo… then how ’bout a thousand bucks, Kirk?

Okay, hop on board the boat, guys.

…

😐

Now, you might, very understandably, be wondering just how in the fuck is a rave even able to be held there in the first place if no one is willing to chauffeur anyone there? Well, it turns out there is a rave there, one that is sponsored by Sega, as evident by the big giant “SEGA” sign that hangs directly above the party stage.

Fuck, yeah! Shameless licensor plug, for the win!

So, yes, there is a party going on, and all the partiers are already there getting their freak on. The question of “How the fuck?” is still a legitimate one to ask, albeit one that’s very easy to answer when you approach a so-called stubborn boat captain who absolutely refuses to take you there before quickly accepting the first money offer made to him.

Can you just imagine this guy as a kid? I bet he was like a super dick magnet for every free candy peddling child molester within a 20-mile radius of him.

So, finally, the quintet arrives at the party site; however, they find it a deserted mess.

Oh, my God. What happened? Maybe it’s ’cause it’s called THE ISLAND OF FUCKING DEATH.

After some searching, the fashionably late party animals discover the place is swarming with zombies.

Oh, fuck. That’s why. I thought all that evil, horrific island lore told by Kirk was just bull shit.

Eventually, they manage to find an old, abandoned house, where they discover Rudy (Jonathan Cherry) and a few other survivors that aren’t really that important ’cause they’re just gonna die soon anyway. Rudy tells them that the zombies attacked the rave, killing most of the crowd. Left with no other choice, the group teams up with Coast Guard operative Jordan Casper (Ellie Cornell) in order to fight back against this monstrous horde. Together, they must find the source of this zombie infection if they, and every long-suffering viewer watching this, wanna come close to making it out alive.

10 Lessons Learned:

1) When Capt. Kirk refuses your $300 offer and says $600, it’s best to balk at his bull shit counter and offer him $1,000 instead.

2) Not only will Capt. Kirk chauffeur you to your little death island for almost twice as much for what he was willing to take, but for an extra ten bucks, he’ll commit a federal felony for you too when the authorities come knocking.

3) Wild, drunken-fueled raves, apparently, look like a kid’s birthday party.

4) When targeting zombies approaching your boat, it’s best to just shoot aimlessly at the water, ’cause accurate aim is really overrated.

5) Best treatment for a horrible acid burn is smacking an alcohol-soaked rag right on top of the wound.

6) To ensure a successful battle against the oncoming zombie horde, fully arm a group of drunk, sexed-up partiers, who look like they’d recoil holding a super soaker, with military-grade weaponry.

7) In the middle of said horrific zombie attack, the best course of action is to take a break and make out with the girls ’cause having any sense of urgency whatsoever is, like, really gay.

8) When nobly sacrificing yourself to save the group, barricade them inside the fortress, light a stick of dynamite as the zombies approach you, and then make sure you’re standing right by the fortress so you’re able to blow up the barricade and possibly the group as well.

9) When one of your friends also sacrifices themselves to the zombies so you can safely escape, just stand there like an idiot and watch as she’s slowly killed ’cause there’s no greater act of love than your friend watching you watch them die for absolutely nothing.

10) When one of your other friends, who you were sure was dead, pops up suddenly in a mysterious cloak and beckons for you to enter his laboratory, it’s totally legit.

The late, great Benjamin Franklin once said, “Our new Constitution is now established, and has an appearance that promises permanency; but in this world nothing can be said to be certain except three things: death, taxes and video game films suck.”

It’s true. I found that quote on the internet. It’s from a speech he gave during his presidential address to the nation after the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor in the Vietnam War.

And speaking of Germans…

I’m convinced there was a deeply profound and sobering moment in Resident Evil auteur Paul W. S. Anderson’s life where he finally surrendered all to God and pleaded with him to send another that would make his video game adaptations look like a master class in cinematic excellence.

And thus God did answer his prayer in the form of Uwe Boll, whose films are, quite frankly, the worst thing to ever afflict Germany.

Yes, that’s right. I can’t think of any other moment that has brought such a horrible blight on Germany’s standing in the world.

Seriously, it cannot be understated. There has never ever been any other moment or event throughout Germany’s entire history, from the very moment Deutschland was first conceived, that has come close to matching the level of devastation, utter depravity and total human debasement quite like Uwe Boll’s films.

Admittedly, Uwe Boll is a fascinating character, one who holds a doctorate in literature and thus will be referred to as Dr. Boll from here on out. Over the course of his storied directing career, Dr. Boll has become known less for his aggressively illiterate films and more for his tirades in response to the harsh criticism of his films. This has led Dr. Boll to doing bizarre stunts like posting YouTube videos telling all those who wouldn’t crowdfund his projects to “fuck yourzelf” and, most notably, challenging everyone from movie critics to filmmakers like Quentin Tarantino and Michael Bay to boxing matches.

Oh. my. God. A short-tempered German wants to start a war with an opposing group. Stop the fucking presses, everyone!

Now, it’s debatable whether all those above tirades by him are either the petulant acts of a butt-hurt man-child or the brilliant art of an online troll – well, actually I should say Dr. Online Troll. One thing is for sure, though, and that is Dr. Boll’s films suck ass.

To give you an idea of just how dumb the characters in House of the Dead are, when Salish offers Cynthia a crucifix for protection, she, without even the slightest shred of irony, responds, “It’s okay. I’m on the pill.”

Good Lord, Cynthia. What the fuck would you have done with that crucifix?

As Boromir would very calmly yet firmly remind everyone, “One does not simply make a video game flick if you’re Dr. Boll.” No, House of the Dead’s director – who, more importantly, is a doctor of literature – has to beat us over the head with the fact that he is, without a single doubt, most definitely making a video game movie. Simply just telling us that it’s based on the Sega video game won’t cut it. Led by the exquisite camera work of “fuck it” personified and a crack addict’s editing, this film is replete with reminder after reminder after reminder after I don’t give a fuck if you already know it, here’s another reminder that this is a movie based on a video game. But even just reminders aren’t enough for Dr. Boll. Why settle for just reminders when you can throw in bright, flashing, choppily edited clips of the actual video game to serve as your scene transitions? It truly is a marvelous feast for the eyes.

Unless you suffer from epilepsy, severe migraines, concussions, chronic traumatic encephalopathy, anxiety or are just an irritable prick like me wondering why the hell do I need that “GAME OVER!” blood curtain filter draping over victims to tell me they’re dead when I can just tell by looking at them.

But all that superfluous stuff like any semblance of visual and audible coherence is secondary to Dr. Boll’s main focus and that’s making sure to explain stuff that needs no explanation. Why just show found camcorder footage of the zombie attack when you can also have a character explain exactly what is already being shown in the footage? Why settle for making a movie that is just people shooting zombies? Sure, it’s based on a game that is essentially Duck Hunt with zombies, but think of all the emotional weight you can add by tacking on some bull shit zombie outbreak origin story revolving around the zombie leader being a banished, 15th century priest who ultimately enslaves the island’s natives and creates an immortality serum. Why did he create an immortality serum? That answer should be obvious, but the film is gonna explain it to us idiot viewers anyway.

It’s so he can live forever. Thank you, movie, for explaining that to my dumbass self.

House of the Dead isn’t just a zombie movie. It’s a riveting, though-provoking exploration of one’s total loss of self when playing God and the utter dehumanization brought on by slavery.

This is the Amistad of shitty, zombie-based video game films… directed by a doctor. Is Steven Spielberg a doctor. No, he’s not. So fuck that hack.

And speaking of dehumanization, let’s talk about these characters, or better yet, the utter lack of them. This film features acting so incredibly wooden, you’ll honestly have a hard time figuring out who’s alive and who’s a zombie. Can you really blame the cast, though, when the script gives them literally nothing to do? Even the action feels completely lifeless, with Dr. Boll eschewing any attempt at generating actual tension in favor of Jurgen Prochnow just standing still on his boat and shooting one zombie, before slightly pivoting about thirty degrees to shoot another zombie.

It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. In fact, just having Prochnow literally shoot actual fish placed inside a barrel would’ve been more nail-biting.

My eyes may have been playing tricks on me, but I swear if you concentrate hard enough on that moment you can see a man once in films like Das Boot, A Dry White Season, In the Mouth of Madness and The English Patient reflecting on how the fuck he wound up here.

Silver Screen Fanatic would now like to take a brief break to remind you all of Steven Spielberg’s 1975 classic Jaws… just like Dr. Boll does in this film, as he apes Jaw’s entire intro, from the characters to the shot selections to the fucking score.

You’re probably thinking right now that this feels kinda random, and it sure is, but nowhere near as random as that bizarre, inserted segment that adds absolutely nothing to the plot other than to suggest that Dr. Boll believes he can do Jaws better than Spielberg.

Okay, let’s get back to these main characters, ’cause they take stupidity to levels not even reached in the most juvenile Happy Madison comedies. Given that zombies typically thrive on eating brains, it’s kinda sad that there’s not much brains to go around for them. Even when someone makes the rare mistake of letting something smart and logical accidentally slip out of their mouth, it’s thankfully corrected by someone else responding with a bull shit, stupid remark.

“I think something bad has happened here.”, says a very smart and astute Alicia as she carefully examines a bloodied T-shirt.

“Ooooooooh, like what?”, giggles a very retarded Cynthia, clearly not noticing the blood-stained evidence literally being held directly in front of her stupid face.

“We’re on the island where the rave of the year is supposed to be happening, but it’s completely deserted.”, Alicia, again, very astutely notices about the totally ravaged area they are standing right, smack-dab in the middle of.

“Yeah, that worries me. Worries me there aren’t any mixers. Simon cannot survive on Bud alone.”, says an even more retarded, third-person speaking Simon, whose blissful ignorance is all but absolutely guaranteeing he and Greg ain’t surviving period, with or without their precious mixers.

“I think it might rain. Why don’t we – uh – go somewhere we won’t get wet.”, says Greg ’cause he constantly thinks with his dick, the only functioning head attached to his body.

“Too late.”, says Cynthia ’cause she’s a slut.

Forget that protection from earlier. Who are we kidding? That crucifix would burn a cross-shaped hole right through that whore’s flesh.

Take notice of Alicia’s strong investigative skills. Her gut instincts tell her something’s not right as she gathers together piece after piece of horrifying evidence. Then, after seeing 100% verifiable, absolutely undeniable, video recorded evidence of the island’s zombie outbreak, just when I’m about to give the slightest ounce of a single shit about her survival, she says, “Okay, I find this all a little hard to believe. It was a stunt. It was part of the rave.”

Was it still a stunt, Alicia, when a shrieking, frothing at the mouth Cynthia got blasted back about ten feet by Jordan Casper’s rifle?

God, I’m so rooting for the zombies.

Speaking of God, I’m assuming he just up and abandoned these lost souls, ’cause that crucifix clearly didn’t so shit.

If there’s any take away from this movie, it’s that Dr. Boll really loves The Matrix, given his massive, erection-sized penchant for the bullet time technique and discotheque soundtrack, which here sounds so cheap it was probably ripped straight from the video game. And it’s not actually bullet time, so much as it’s just the cast standing perfectly still in their fighting stance while Dr. Boll just whirls the camera around them repeatedly like they’re riding a playground merry-go-round. Playing The Benny Hill Show’s “Yakety Sax”, accompanied by kazoos and sliding whistles, would’ve been a more compelling musical aid.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

What absolutely takes the cake, though is a hysterically awful fight scene between Team Girls Gone Wild and zombies that takes place somewhere around the mid-portion of the film. At no point at all, be it during Greg’s dick-wetting session with Cynthia or Simon’s devastating realization that there are no mixers at this abandoned rave, do the partiers ever give the impression that they can even just a hold a gun properly, much less aim and shoot it. Hell, these imbecilic assholes look, sound and act like they can’t even put a hammer to a nail, and yet this fucking movie has the utter bugfuckery audacity to think it can get me to believe that at the snap of a finger they’re now suddenly The Expendables.

But hey, here comes more spinning. Cue the kazoos and sliding whistles again.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

Judgment: House of the Dead isn’t a film. If you can believe it, what you’re witnessing is actually Uwe Boll and his crew quickly running through one of those cheap haunted house mazes that pop up every Halloween, where they counted every paid customer and Party City costumed high school dropout jumping out and screaming at them as a cast member. I sleep better at night believing that as opposed to the depressing alternative that a film studio actually gave Dr. Boll $10+ million to make a movie so cheap and tacky looking it makes the worst offender of the Syfy Film catalog look like Midsommar.

Sentence: Two consecutive life sentences on Isla del Morte. Don’t let all the fun partiers fool you. With all the strobe lights; loud, obnoxious music; and creeps jumping out of nowhere and scaring the bejesus out of you, it’s actually a Guantanamo Bay detention center disguised as a rave.

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