KINKY KILLERS

CONTAINS NO SPOILERS BECAUSE I HAD NO IDEA WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON

Bad movie alert again, and I'm starting to get sick of ringing it. This one's beyond bad, though: a long long way beyond merely bad. On the sliding scale of DTV timewasting toss we have bog-standard, sub-standard, sub-sub-standard, and then there's wretched, hopeless, incoherent Amateur Night gibberish. Keep going, because we're not even close yet.

Several rungs further down on the ladder, there's Kinky Killers, an incomprehensible botch of a serial killer thriller in which the ridiculously sexy patients of a ridiculously sexy psychiatrist are being murdered and dismembered in as much loving detail as the effects budget will allow. Some of them also appear to be clients of a lawyer played by none other than Charles Durning, and he looks very old and frail. The psychiatrist's boyfriend has been sleeping with at least three of the murder victims, on the shrink's instructions, which is an interesting form of therapy that the NHS probably won't run to. There are tattoos, body parts, bible quotations, and dialogue that makes no sense, and the cop on the case is Michael Pare, who probably wished he was back doing Uwe Boll films. In the last reel it suddenly veers off into silly occultist territory with two intercut sex scenes - there's a lot of nudity throughout the film - with an ending that suggests the possiblity of a sequel. Oh joy.

I don't mind a movie that's only there to provide 90 minutes of death and hot chicks, but even if that's all your movie has to offer, at least do it well. Hell, just do it competently. If this is the best you can do, though, was it really worth the bother? I don't believe it was. Originally it was called Polycarp, which is a monumentally dumb title.

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