PANDAMONIUM

CONTAINS SPOILARS

Yes, that is the correct spelling: it's a pun based on the fact that the serial killer in this utterly joyless, borderline amateur brain-damaged (and brain-damaging) apology for a film wears a panda mask when out slashing. It's pretty much the cleverest joke in the whole enterprise: a slasher comedy that's supposedly aimed at adults (strippers, drugs, swearing, murders) but saddled with a level of wit that's either grotesquely sexist sex references or puns that late period Carry On films and Lidl Christmas crackers would be ashamed to utter.

Pandamonium is allegedly set in a law firm where some of the finest legal minds in the business are competing for a promotion, though it's actually a cross between an unmanned kindergarten and a coke-fuelled chimps' tea party. The guys are a bunch of drooling sex-obsessed Cro-Magnon misogynists who've clearly never actually touched a woman before, and react to what the script laughably describe as "the best strippers that money can buy" (and by "money" they clearly mean "fifteen quid and a bus fare home afterwards") in a manner that makes Danny Dyer look like Gandhi; even more remarkable given that the strippers don't even take their dresses off. And there's the mad killer in the panda mask, bumping everyone off in uninteresting and unimaginative ways except the cute new office junior...

It's stupid, it's boring, it's barely professional, it's atrociously written, it's abominably acted, and everyone, absolutely everyone involved needs to take a long hard look deep into their souls and accept responsibility for what they've done. I don't care if you only made the sandwiches or supplied a few props: you did this. You did this and you should be bloody well ashamed of yourselves. This isn't a film, it's a war crime. Terrifyingly, it concludes with a suggestion of a sequel called Slasher House, which is exactly the kind of thing that happens if you don't clamp down on these things right at the start.

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