Feature 81 – Dead 7 (2016)

or “What Do You Call 8 Teens at Crystal Lake?”

Featuring: Nick “The Hollow” Carter , Joey “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” Fatone , Carrie “’In Bed with Carrie‘” Keagan

Director: Danny “Shotgun Wedding” Roew

Writers: Nick Carter & Sawyer Perry

Origin: USA


“They’re everywhere! And I’m runnin’ out of whiskey!”

Summer: my annual nemesis. Season of the swamp-ass. I look with anticipation to a possible future where I’ll hopefully reside in a climate that the 80s and 90s are fondly remembered for pop culture tropes rather than digits that the Weather Channel app uses to numerically mock me for some long since forgotten slight. In other words, uggh, it’s fucking gross and hot and grossly hot outside. Blah.

Speaking of fucking gross: an onslaught of impotent, tiny-minded, racist, misogynist, dick bibs harassed Leslie Jones to the point of driving her off of social media because they still can’t cope with a Ghostbusters team that uses tampons. Whether your mothers didn’t hug you enough or your creepy babysitter hugged you too much, neither is the fault of any other person. Stop blaming entire genders and/or races for your pathetic state of self-loathing and just get therapy or a fucking hobby like normal people, instead of being humanoid colostomy bags sitting around in your own filth. Wanna flex your imagined manliness so bad? Spare the world your vitriol over Suzy Creamcheese shooting down your invite to the junior prom and just have your next circle jerk in an active volcano. You won’t be missed.

And take Scott Baio with you!

With that out of the way, today’s traipse amid the taint sweat is the final installment of my accidental “’Dead’ Guys of July” trilogy. It started with the high of Deadpool, the crashing low of Dead Rising: Endgame, and wraps up with Dead 7 for the finale. What’s a “Dead 7”? Remember that Magnificent 7 remake due out in September? Well, The Asylum’s up to their old tricks again.

Originally announced by Syfy as airing on April 1st, I’m sure I wasn’t the only skeptic who would’ve bet their collection of “Great Conspiracies of History” Pogs (I have the Illuminati AND 9/11 slammers!) on Dead 7 being an April Fools gag. The fact that it stars a handful of former boy band members as zombie fighting wanna-be cowboys sure as shit didn’t alleviate our misgivings of legitimacy either. But it was all true! Come the first day of the fourth month of the millennium’s sixteenth year, the dead did rise at the whim of that black chick from “MADtv” and the washed up pop stars did send them back to their graves as heralded in the ancient tomes. All you ladies who used to maul your south mouths to your Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC posters (which your dads never understood why you hung on your bedroom ceilings…), it’s time to make like a cartoon wolf and get your tongues wagging!

Though the motif of today’s movie is “cowboys vs. corpses”, our setting is not the Old West. Instead, it’s one of those dystopian post-apocalyptic future times following the collapse of civilization. This time, it’s at the decroded hands of mindless zombie monsters called Copperheads, who seek only food and destruction (like a bunch of Rage infected John Kasichs). The remaining humans opted to build a fence around their own little section of the land and live life like a John Wayne movie. I’m guessing because the only people smart enough to run the power plants were all killed off during the ensuing downfall of humanity. Why not just set the movie in the actual Wild West rather than go with this bullshit “sometime in the near future” nonsense? Because this way our protagonists can have cooler looking guns, wear an affordable wardrobe that doesn’t require too much leather or period specific clothing, drive beat up jeeps and motorcycles, and use modern slang without people like me nitpicking over its complete lack of authenticity!

How uncharacteristically shrewd of The Asylum…by Mercury’s Merkin! Do you realize what this means?! They’re evolving! We’re all fucked!

Amid the mayhem, a woman named Apocolypta runs around the jungles of South America to flee her fate as a human sacrifice for her tribe. Shit. Never mind, that was Apocalypto. Apocolypta is a sinister she-demon (played by Debra Wilson) who controls the Copperheads with her dark magic (not racist!) and rules what’s left of the world. As for the remaining unturned, they’re rounded up and given the option to join her teeming mass of voracious mouths, or become the cattle that feeds them. Personally, I’d sign up for the breeding program and then behead myself once I’d had my fill of filling others, rather than spend the rest of my life roaming in hunger from respite morsel to respite morsel. But then there wouldn’t be much to the movie without a few rebels to fight the forces of fiend-dom. As such, we get protagonists in the form of the retired stage monkeys portraying our eponymous septet. Let’s meet the Insignificant Seven, shall we? Good guy role call!

In order of appearance:

  • Billy (Jeff Timmons) – the barely effective heartthrob hero who shows off his all-American-ness with his stars & stripes baseball cap and the fact that he rides a motorcycle. Chicks dig motorcycles. Pro tip ladies, sybians are cheaper and don’t come with the road rash risk.
  • Daisy Jane (Carrie Keagan) – Billy’s bae. She’s your standard issue tough girl for flicks like this, and she’s the one wearing the pants in both their relationship as well as in the group as a whole. Remember the scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail where the king’s expounding upon his wimpy son the benefits of the lad’s soon-to-be bride’s “huge tracts of land”? Well, Daisy is a land baron’s dream come true.
  • Whiskey Joe (Joey Fatone) – the group’s intoxicated comedy relief. Joe’s a chauvinistic, brawling man-child. He makes it a point while bantering with a prostitute to tell her about the booby trapped flask full of blood he keeps in his coat pocket in case he ever turns into a Copper himself, so don’t expect him to make it across the finish line.
  • Vaquero (Howie Dorough) – the gang’s sniper and Joe’s amigo numero uno. For no real reason, he prefers to be called The Vaquero. “The Vaquero” is a Spanglish term that translates into Engnish as “El Cowboy”. I guess The V just wants to differentiate himself as not just another buckaroo, but as the preeminent buckaroo? Meh.
  • Komodo (Erik-Michael Estrada) – because every group needs a samurai-ninja. A latino samurai-ninja. Kind of an interesting twist given the influence for the original Magnificent Seven was Kurosawa’s epic The Seven Samurai after all. Granted, the whole character reeks of “Who’s this goofy LARPing reject motherfucker?!”, but the entire movie is just kids playing pretend, so I guess we can just go with it.
  • Jack (Nick Carter) – Billy’s estranged, “too cool for fools” brother. Because of course Nick Carter would write himself as the brooding wanna-be Man With No Name knock-off that all the ladies would want to “get with” cuz he’s “mysterious” like that.
  • Sirene (Lauren Kitt Carter) – a Native American (I think?) wasteland warrior princess who was at the End of Days’ ground zero. She’s just the type of amazon you want on your side when fighting the legions of unliving. Unfortunately, her lack of interest in the role and middling talent give her a borderline “Me talkum like Indian trying to talkum to white man” old Hollywood Indian speech pattern that left me checking my calendar to make sure I hadn’t fallen through a time warp. Guess what? I didn’t fall through a time warp.

    With the introductions out of the way, there’s really not much else to say. A large part of the movie consists of gathering the posse, there’s a chunk where they split into two groups for no real reason (beyond having a bordello/whore house/hump shack scene), then the half-assed hero squad and Apocolypta’s Copperhead ghoul brigade have their climactic confrontation. I’ll spare you the spoilers, but suffice it to say that the entire scenario is soaked in the brand of half-assery we’ve all come to expect from the a-holes at The Asylum. Time for the judgment!

    First, the movie’s biggest marketing effort: its stunt casting. Being a non-fan, I don’t even get the novelty of knowing who these goons are. The only one I could pick out of a lineup is Fatone, and that’s just because he’s one of those guys that is his name – he’s the fat one! Anyway, as you’d expect from a group of people best known for their flash-in-the-pan music careers, the acting is mostly meh. Lazy attempts at keeping up accents and a pervasive sense of boredom hanging in the air from pretty much everybody. Especially the wishy-washy emoting from Jeff Timmons as white bread good boy Billy. Amid the rabble though, we do get a trio of diamonds. Well, not so much diamonds as those egg geodes from Giant Spider Invasion.

    Fatone drew the lucky straw in playing the group’s drunken lout, since all he had to do was goof off on camera. A job he did just fine. Then there’s AJ McLean as Apocolypta’s henchman Johnny Vermillion, who feels like an attempted mash-up of Johnny Depp’s role in Dead Man with The Joker. Before you get too excited though, AJ’s mania is way less Heath Ledger and way more Cesar Romero, so abandon all hope for Oscar winning psychosis because you’re getting daytime TV cackling and prancing instead. Finally, despite Apocolypta being the most one-dimensional villain I’ve seen in a while, Debra Wilson’s act is hammier than Petunia Pig’s poontang after slipping Porky a vodka and Viagra cocktail. With eyes bulging and her lower jaw jutted out as far as it’ll go without full-on disjointing itself like one of the Snake Men of Eternia, Miss Wilson puts on a performance so over the top that Lincoln Hawk (I’m sorry, “HAAAWK!”) would just hand over his son to her and walk away without even a hint of saltiness. She makes the voodoo priestess in Zombie Nightmare look measured and culturally sensitive in comparison. True story. No truer story! If you don’t guffaw in awe, you may need to see your doctor to make sure your brain’s not full of tumors or some shit. It’s magic, and incredibly unfortunate that she doesn’t have more screen time as a result.

    Oh, and Everclear frontman Art Alexakis makes a cameo in there somewhere too. This has nothing to do with his 3 seconds of acting or the fact that Everclear wasn’t a boy band, I just wondered if anyone remembered who Everclear is. They had that song about how he had a black girlfriend? Always crying about how he grew up without a father? No, not the guy from Korn. Not ringing any bells? I didn’t think so. They played the New York State Fair last year. Yep, they’re state fair fare these days. It was a free show. We almost went, but there was a demolition derby in town that day. The Evil Dead Bride and I are contented with our choice.

    As far as the story goes, no points to Carter and Perry for originality. In another case of dreaming too big for the budget, we’re promised a global zombie holocaust that gets reduced to a few dozen extras in cheap makeup and thrift store scraps. And, in a dose of logic acid that gave me cranial indigestion, how the fuck do you expect me to believe that Apocolypta’s army of zombies were able to reduce humanity to a small population of Wild West throwbacks, only to be held off by a chain link fence long enough for said refugees to establish their own society?! And with the disturbing amount of guns in the US, how would traditional “kill the brain, kill the beast” infected manage to wipe out 320 million people, let alone under the control of a single leader who only employs a couple of handlers to keep ’em in line?! Did people forget that they could just sit on the roof of their home and crack the undead’s decayed skulls with coffee mugs or door stops or whatever other moderately dense objects they have lying around the house? Clearly there were no Romero movies on Dead 7‘s alternate Earth and its people all deserved to die.

    Rather than just pissing and moaning, today I’m gonna extend the olive branch and try to make the world a more peaceful place. In that vein, here’s some creative criticism on how this chicanery could’ve carried a little credibility. Rather than sticking with the “after the end” setting, instead rewind the story so it takes place in the 1800s. Drop the modern tech and exile Komodo the ninjurai dingus in favor of a more primitive world. It immediately gives credence to the idea of a necromancer menacing small towns of settlers who have no idea what the Copperheads are or how to fight them. Or, if the studio’s boner for the dystopian future tense was set in concrete, just leave the zombie outbreak’s origins unexplained and paint ‘Lypta as an opportunist who can control small groups of ghouls to take what modicum of power there is left. You know, enslaving the remaining humans to…build… monuments…to…her? I’ve burned enough brain cells on this one already. To Hel with it. Onward and up Ward!

    Ward who? Fred Ward? Burt Ward? Ward Cleaver?! Whatever Ward rubs your chub. It’s okay, there are no secrets or judgment here. Except the judgment of this poo poo party, which it’s time to conclude.

    What’s left to ruminate on? Hmmm. Well, as is par for the Asylum’s commodus operandi, the gore’s mostly diluted to digital discharged with traditional splatter used sparingly. On the plus side, the cinematography does what it can to limit said computer generated viscera to brief moments and puts the camera at enough of a distance to keep most of the tech-splatter out of our eyes. Like I said, The Asylum is learning…be afraid.

    All in all, Dead 7‘s not the worst thing in the world, and that’s high praise for an Asylum miscarriage. It’s dumb fun. As bad as it is, at least it’s not The Ridiculous 6, which is about as good as you’re gonna get given the circumstances. If you’re ever confined with your friends in some sick Saw trap where you’re forced to watch it, try taking bets on which characters die and in what order. It makes the wait for your inevitable lunch date with moi go a little faster. Speaking of waiting, now we wait for Syfy’s inevitable follow-up movie where the New Kids on the Block and the Hanson brothers fight to prevent the invasion of Earth by marauding aliens led by Corey Feldman’s ex-wife! I am counting the days.

    Now, what’s next on my imagined itinerary? Well, I’m taking a trip back to The Asylum soon, so send me some of those hopes and prayers people are always banging on about. Before then? I may have a surprise up my pant leg. Care to check? If so, I advise you to put on some gloves first. Preferably something nice. Isotoners® if you’ve got ’em.

    Moral of the Story: If you’re gonna go all Tombstone after the dusk of man, maybe take some of the more useful modern concepts to deal with zombies with you. Like tree houses. And machine guns. And concrete jails. And a few steam shovels to build a moat around your town to fill with some of those zombie fighting Fulci sharks.


    “Jacob, as your voodoo dentist, I’m concerned dat your gums always be bleedin’ when ya come here. I know I told ya to get ridda da plaque, but you godda stahp brushin’ yo teeth wid Brill-O pahds!”

    That look you get when you wake up and step in a pile of what used to be a mouse, before your cat decided to offer it up as a sacrifice to you.

    With no more brown people to harass, Nevada Sheriff Joe Arpaio found himself without much to do after the end of the world.

    Looks like somebody watched Benny & Joon last night… while on angel dust… and listening to Kid Rock.

    Always be wary of wearing a white dress around a person with a bloody nose. One good sneeze and you look like a used tampon.

    “All the props department had left were the steampunk eye patch and the mutton chops, Luther. I called the patch fair and square, and I’m not gonna trade! Accept it!”

    “Hey guys, wanna know a secret? Everybody calls me ‘Whiskey Joe’, but it’s really just water in my flask! I’m a total teetotaler. I never touch the stuff! Hahahaha!”

    “God damn it, Joe! I toldja what was gonna happen to you if you ate the last Lunchables™, and you fuckin’ ate it anyway! THAT WAS MY DINNER, YOU DICKHEAD! Hold him down, boys! I’ll be dining on my tiny deli meats and crackers one way or another tonight!”

    Sherlock and Dr. Watson. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Whiskey Joe and The Vaquero.

    “Well, I guess I’m a cultural anachronism!” *shrug*

    Jeff Timmons – the poor man’s Mark Wahlberg… with a stupid kanji tattoo that he probably thinks mean “fire”, but actually means “flaming dog turd”.

    Pocahontas: Beyond Thunderdome

    That’s not a statue. It’s actually an elaborate decorative meat smoker. When in use, the smoke bellows out of her nostrils. It’s kinda funny…

    Damn, girl. Does your mouth offer car insurance, cuz it’s NATIONWIDE! *rimshot*


    Anubis will return next time in
    “The Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day”

    Enjoy the review? Hate the review? Have a movie you’d like to see judged in The Tomb? Fill out the feedback form! Never has it been easier to make contact with a deitic being!

    All materials found within this review are the intellectual properties and opinions of the original writer. The Tomb of Anubis claims no responsibility for the views expressed in this review, but we do lay a copyright claim on it beeyotch, so don’t steal from this shit or we’ll have to go all Farmer Vincent on your silly asses. © October 1st 2013 and beyond, not to be reproduced in any way without the express written consent of the reviewer and The Tomb of Anubis, or pain of a physical and legal nature will follow. Touch not lest ye be touched.

  • Crystal Lake Memories

    The Evil Dead Bride and yours truly spent today watching the entirety of the 8 hour Friday the 13th documentary “Crystal Lake Memories”, based on the massive book of the same name. Yep. EIGHT. HOURS.


    Feature 80 – Dead Rising: Endgame (2016)

    or “Not Just Another Zombie Movie (Yes It Is)”

    Featuring: Jesse “John Tucker Must Die” Metcalfe , Jessica “iZombie” Harmon , Dennis “The Unit” Haysbert

    Director: Pat “Degrassi: the Next Generation” Williams

    Writers: Tim “Dead Rising: Watchtower” Carter & Michael “Catwoman” Ferris

    Sequel to: Dead Rising: Watchtower

    Origin: USA


    “You’re outta control Chase. Are you a journalist or a vigilante?”

    Welcome back, boils and ghouls. ‘Tis I, your humble narrator, thriving on the mundane and bleeding mediocrity as always. The Master of Mating Magnetism himself… keeping in mind that magnets both attract and repel… props to the Sonic commercial I stole that punchline from. Anyway, if I sound a bit disappointed today, it’s because I fell for one of those click bait articles about “SHOCKING CELEBRITY SUICIDES!” that uses a picture of Johnathan Taylor Thomas in the link. I clicked through all 200 pages of that fucking site and JTT wasn’t among them! From now on, I’m checking IMDB before getting my hopes up about forgotten ’90s quasi-celebs murdering themselves. Speaking of shat upon expectations, there were two things I was very much looking forward to experiencing last week: Burger King’s newest lifespan eroder, the Mac & Cheetos, and Crackle’s new original zombie-a-go-go, Dead Rising: Endgame. Of the two, one was moderately satisfying and the other was monstrously disappointing. Here’s a hint about which is which: the following review is for the shit show. Spoilers.

    In case you missed my review for last year’s Dead Rising: Watchtower (Episode 47, as seen here), here’s a quick refresher for the sequel. It’s based on the Dead Rising video game series. Each installment of which centers around a different male main character stuck in the middle of a zombie outbreak and forced to survive with an armory of do-it-yourself weapons that combine everyday objects like a sledgehammer and a fire ax, a broadsword and motor oil, a vacuum cleaner and buzz saw blades, and so on and so forth. Watchtower opted not to adapt any of these games, and instead introduced us to a new protagonist named Chase Carter (Jesse Metcalfe). Chase is an investigative reporter (cuz reporters are always chasing stories… get it?… do you get it?… you get it.) for an online-only news outlet that covers all the stories the “lamestream media” won’t, due to the whims of their corporate overlords and being on the short leash of their Wall Street masters and blah blah occupy blah blah blah.

    Chase uncovered a conspiracy (as reporters in movies are oft to do), killed some zombies, “Point A? Meet Point B.”, nothing was resolved (gotta set it up for the sequel after all!), roll the credits. If you didn’t watch it and are one of those spoiler-phobic types, you might wanna end your experience here and return the unused portion of this review for a full refund. Being a sequel, major plot points from the previous picture need to be touched upon, and like a doctor giving you a physical, I wanna make said touching as non-awkward for you as possible. Your body is a magical, disgusting pile of nerves that react to stimulation in an aroused fashion independent of your brain sometimes. Don’t be embarrassed. It happens to everyone… please stop masturbating.

    Still here? Okay. Let’s continue with the Ballad of Chase Carter… not to be confused with “The Ballad of Chasey Lane”, which is a Bloodhound Gang song that has nothing to do with zombies and everything to do with analingus.

    When we last left our venturesome muckraker, he had made a deal with one of the big TV news outlets to provide them with an exclusive story about the behind-the-scenes of a recent undead outbreak, including how it may have actually been caused by Phenotrans – the pharmaceutical company that produces the zombieism sytmying drug Zombrex™ and NOT a Phoenix based social group for trans people with dyslexia. It had something to do with bitten people being implanted with microchips that would track their vitals and release Zombrex™ into their systems as needed to prevent them from turning. Sinister Army man General Lyons (Dennis Haysbert) wanted to weaponize the chips (or something. I don’t remember a whole lot from the first movie, to be fair) and instead used a portion of them to turn their users into the living dead, taking advantage of the resultant panic to manipulate things to his favor somehow… maybe… I don’t know. The end result was the eponymous program “Watchtower”, which instituted mandatory chipping for millions of otherwise uninfected civilians.

    As we join our journalistic joy-boy Chase, he has indeed parlayed himself a well paying gig as a World War Z correspondent for UBN (let’s say “Universal Broadcast News”?). While sticking his nose into every hole he can find (dirty dirty dirty) to try and uncover evidence of Lyons’ wrong doings, he’s also trying to track down his former producer Jordan (Keegan Connor Tracy) who went missing at the end of Watchtower. It’s been a pair of calendars since the big outbreak, and despite East Mission City being voted Zombie Digest‘s “Biggest Necropolis of 2016”, the streets aren’t exactly teeming with bite bags. Another unfortunate instance of a low-budget movie bragging about having a 10 inch pocket monster when all they’re packing is a 2 inch pelvic thumb. Denoting your shortcomings beforehand is better than trying to excuse your lies after the fact. Admission over apologizing, people.

    Despite his efforts, Chase is story-blocked by his bosses, who don’t need the hassle of a Phenotrans lawsuit or a government sanctioned mass execution to bring down their executive cocaine lunch highs. To continue down his checklist of “movie reporter tropes”, Chase ignores the demands of those-in-charge and continues to meddle in the matters of General Lyons, the Scooby-Doo to his Old Man Withers. Monotoned Army guy’s big scheme continues to revolve around those damn Big Brother chips, only this time he plans to insta-kill a few million people instead of just turning them into ghouls. With just 24 hours to put the ki-bosh on this “Afterlife” contingency, Double C and his elite Channel 6 News Team strike out to bring down Iran Contra II before it turns into September 11th IV. Said crew includes such movie caricatures as “sassy computer hacker girlfriend who owes the hero her life” (Maria Avgeropoulos), “tough talking cool guy that supplies the group with guns, who we first meet playing the video game the movie’s based on before he answers the door in his underwear and a robe” (Patrick Sabongui), “experienced news person who uses their connections to try and take down the evil corporation with the Power of the Press” (Jessica Harmon), “corporate whisteblower who will either turn on the heroes to save their own ass or die proving their dedication to doing what’s right” (Ian Tracey) and “character from the hero’s past who shows up to save them in the nick of time”. You know, all those old “seen it before” chestnuts.

    Endgame follows much the same path that Watchtower did in regards to its influence from the games, only this time around the Zombie-Go-Round the marauding rejects from a Mad Max movie are replaced with a scurrilous gang of heroin handling (which is never reasoned why) mercenaries, the wacky interview segments with Dead Rising hero Frank West are dropped in favor of a much less wacky deus ex machina cameo by Dead Rising 2 protagonist Chuck Greene (Victor Webster), the creative engineering of mash-up weapons (all of which look too silly for a serious toned tale) feels tacked on now rather than a fun nod to fans of the games, and the previous flick’s “boss battle” finale is dropped in favor of a pair of dramatic stand-offs – one about two guys waiting for lab test results and the other over a computer virus’ upload progression bar… As the constipated old man said to his Depends, “I shit you not”.

    By the time it was over, my faith in Dead Rising as a movie series had expired. Were you here, you would’ve heard the last gasps of hope leave my body via an audible sigh. It was as if the ghost of my own enjoyment had been exorcised by an ordained priest from the Church of Mediocrity. Though some would praise Endgame‘s eschewing of its comedic roots in favor of a more dire tone, I say thee nay. If I wanted my made-for-TV ghoulocausts to be low-budget bowls of freezer-burnt vanilla ice cream, I wouldn’t have relieved myself all over Rise of the Zombies way back in episode 6! No, I want my Dead Rising ice cream to be filled with sprinkles and gummi worms and little chocolate zombies, damn it! I said it when Michael Bay prison sexed the Ninja Turtles and I’ll say it again – if you’re just going to ignore 90% of the source material and do your own “in name only” thing, spare the fans your lazy cash-in and just call it something else! Then again, when one of your writers was responsible for the crime against geek humanity that is Catwoman, I should’ve known what I was setting myself up for, right? No. That’s victim blaming, you asshole. Fuck you.

    On the good side of things, Billy Zane himself shows up for a payday as a not-quite-mad-but-definitely-morally-spotty scientist! Not-so-good? His role has him onscreen for all of 5-10 minutes and lacks the Zane zaniness of something like his turn in Demon Knight that I was hoping to get when I saw him mentioned in the opening creds. On a less lackluster positive note, though, I have to admit that what action pieces we get are generally better put together than what we got in Watchtower. Chief among them for me being a Chase chase (wakka wakka!) sequence where he tries to escape the dead menace amid a series of escalators and an interestingly shot fight between the hero and some zombos in an operating room that shoots for what I can only describe as “tethered filming”.

    So, all said and done, Endgame isn’t all bad. Generic, sure, but not a totally wasted 90 minutes of wear and tear on the eyeballs. It doesn’t leave me looking forward to the purported TV series that Crackle has in the works, but as a stand alone zombie movie, I’ve seen worse. Far worse. Skin-peelingly bad “I’d rather jam toothpicks under my toe nails than watch another minute of this” worse. Toe suckingly terrible stuff, folks. Seriously.

    As previously noted, the biggest problem with the movie is making it 100% serious while still keeping the “Dead Rising” moniker. It’s tantamount to taking a charismatic, over-the-top madman like Jesse Ventura and casting him as a cookie-cutter, potatoes-without-the-meat, bland as raw tofu, good guy. How do you make an intergalactic space cop played by one of professional wrestling’s greatest a-holes a walking, talking sleeping pill? Abraxas. How do you suck all of the fun out of Dead Rising‘s wholesale zombie murdering and DIY death dealers? Endgame.

    Hey, I wonder why they named the first movie after Lyons’ plan (“Watchtower”), but didn’t do the same with the sequel? “Afterlife” would’ve made for a better title, especially given that this clearly isn’t the series’ “endgame”, what with the TV show planned. Just junk food for thought.

    Since it’s a Crackle exclusive, if you want to check out Endgame (or Watchtower for that matter) you can do so for free on the Crackle app for your phone, tablet, gaming console, or TV streaming device of choice. Of course, you’ll have to sit through a shitload of commercials for that privilege, but nothing is truly free… unless you download it from a torrent site. Technology, you sex us so good!

    Oh, and despite not making Mac & Cheetos wretched fried tripe, BK isn’t off the hook! One time they sold me onion rings and didn’t give me the designated sauce that goes with it. Onion rings without onion ring sauce is as much a crime as a Dead Rising sequel without Rob Riggle’s Frank West. And I was told this was the land of liberty. Oh the unabashed verisimilitude. Not cool, guys. Not cool.

    Moral of the Story: At least I still have Dead Rising 4 to look forward to this year! Yay video games!


    Those sadists in the Jackass crew have run out of wacky ideas and are just straight up mutilating themselves now.

    I see someone never figured out how to turn the on-screen display off on their camera…

    “Damn, baby! You looked a hell of a lot better last night when I had my Jack Daniels goggles on!”

    She’s Selena Gomez-ing.

    Dennis Haysbert parodying the McConaughey Lincoln commercials? You’re a few years late to the party, Allstate.

    Hey, movie. You’re not endearing me to you any more so by showing me what I could be playing instead of watching you. Stop it.

    “You mind if we stop by my dealer’s place real quick on the way to the airport? I’ve been itching for a fucking hit since lunch and I just can’t drive straight when I’m, well, straight! Oh, and can you give me a 5 star rating on Uber? It hasn’t been a good week.”

    “Thanks for meeting me in secret… here in this public place… out in the open… during the day… You’ve never done corporate espionage work before, have you?”

    A human pinata! THAT’s what I want for my birthday next year!

    “My custom weapons are NOT stupid looking and cumbersome! They’re friggin’ AWESOME! You’re gonna owe me so many Mac & Cheetos when you see how right I am and these save your dumb life!”

    For those cold footed husband-to-be out there hoping the zombie apocalypse will be a good enough reason to cancel your marriage? She will find you. And eat you.

    “What are you two doing?! Do you have a permit to film here?! Fuck off before I call the cops!”

    “So you’re not going with a crazy, over-the-top tone with this one? You just want me to play my role straight? Okay… you have until my bank clears the check, then I’m out of here.”

    Hey kids, remember Hackers? Remember how cool it is to watch a fucking progress bar for 10 minutes?! Have we got a movie for you!

    “Chuck? I know your cameo is completely superfluous and all, but could you have at least worn your bright yellow motocross jacket so the gamers could have had some kind of fan service?!”


    Anubis will return next time in
    “What Do You Call 8 Teens At Crystal Lake?”

    Enjoy the review? Hate the review? Have a movie you’d like to see judged in The Tomb? Fill out the feedback form! Never has it been easier to make contact with a deitic being!

    All materials found within this review are the intellectual properties and opinions of the original writer. The Tomb of Anubis claims no responsibility for the views expressed in this review, but we do lay a copyright claim on it beeyotch, so don’t steal from this shit or we’ll have to go all Farmer Vincent on your silly asses. © October 1st 2013 and beyond, not to be reproduced in any way without the express written consent of the reviewer and The Tomb of Anubis, or pain of a physical and legal nature will follow. Touch not lest ye be touched.

    Feature 79 – Deadpool (2016)

    or “The Little Merc Made”

    Featuring: Ryan “Green Lantern” Reynolds , Ed “The Transporter Refueled” Skrein , Morena “Serenity” Baccarin

    Director: Tim Miller

    Writers: Rhett “Zombieland” Reese & Paul “Zombieland” Wernick

    Origin: USA

    Followed By: Deadpool 2


    “Like a ‘Yakov Smirnoff opening for The Spin Doctors at The Iowa State Fair’ shit show.”

    Hey kids. Didn’t see you come in. Welcome. Ignore all the broken glass. I was just working on the latest treatment for my body horror movie script, Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Ed. It’s something of a passion project of mine. A modernized re-imagining of the Robert Louis Stevenson classic by way of Hot to Trot with a little twist of Beautician and the Beast thrown in for flavor. It’s magic in the making. If I can’t sell it as a feature, I’m thinking of taking it to NetFlix as a throwaway joke for the next season of “Bojack Horseman”. Get your wallets ready, NF, cuz this is a Cash4Gold scenario – I give you gold, you give me cash. Shpadoinkle!

    You know who would fund Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Ed? Wade Wilson. Who’s Wade Wilson? Deadpool. Who’s Deadpool? Clearly you haven’t read a comic book or gone into a mall specific chain store in the last 10 years. On some days, I would envy you for that. But not today, because now you’ll have to read my yawn inspiring ramblings to find out. Oh well. You must not think these reviews are too terrible if you’re coming here to read them, right? Right. Okay ham pressers, let’s press ham!

    While I was on hiatus (let’s say scouring every corner of the world to find Tilda Swinton in the hopes that she could repair my hands [mangled by too much “summoning the white worm”] so I’d be able to type reviews again) the long-awaited Deadpool movie finally brought peace and joy to the hearts of fanboys and fangirls the world over. For those not in the know, Deadpool is a Marvel Comics mutant mercenary-sometimes-hero(ish?) whose shades-of-gray morality, morbid sense of humor, taste for excessive violence, Spider-Manian wit and self-awareness of his status as a comic book character have charmed him many a fan in recent years.

    Unfortunately, his status as a “mutant” means that his film and live-action television rights have been under the not-always-competent thumb of Fox Studios, hence why Marvel themselves never made a movie for him and why it took so long for one to finally come out now. Sure, he appeared in 2009’s X-Men Origins: Wolverine (also played then by Ryan Reynolds), but his character was so unrecognizable by the finale, fans feared their black and red clad friend was doomed to never see the light of day in a proper presentation. BUT, Ryan Reynolds loved the character so much that he spent whatever free time he had between shooting romantic comedies, forgettable action flicks, and other comic book movies he’d rather forget (which I’ll save for another day… unless my blackmail demands are met, Ryan) lobbying Fox execs to let him make the Deadpool solo movie he wanted and the fans deserved. After much poking, prodding, and “Can I make Deadpool now? Can I make Deadpool now? Can I make Deadpool NOW?!”, the merc with a mouth (don’t most mercenaries have mouths?) was finally birthed straight into the public eye (embryonic fluids, afterbirth and all) on Valentine’s Day 2016. Trivia time – This was exactly 25 years after the characters first comic book appearance in February 1991’s New Mutants #87. Remember that in case you’re ever on “Jeopardy” someday… or they bring back “Beat the Geeks”.

    From the very outset of the flick we know we’re in for a show and that Reynolds very much got away with making things his way, as the Red and Black Attack and some unfortunate nameless goon fodder tumble through a slow-mo car wreck to the tune of Juice Newton’s “Angel of the Morning” for our opening credits. Said credits don’t include any actual names though, instead replacing the actors’ monikers with brief descriptions of the characters themselves, like “God’s Perfect Idiot”, “A British Villain”, and “A CGI Character” all featured in “Some Douchebag’s Film”, “Produced by Asshats”, “Directed by An Overpaid Tool” and “Written by The Real Heroes Here”. Wait a mo. The “Real Heroes”? You mean those eyeball blisteringly bad promotional comics that Pizza Hut gave out in ’94?! Blartus Maximus!

    I’m pretty sure no one told the SAG about this little credits gag, because knowing how much butthole napalm they sprayed over Frank Miller getting a co-director credit in Sin City, these credentials would’ve set their collective nose hairs ablaze. Yikes. Imagine that for a moment – beyond the stench of singed hairs and burnt boogers you’d be privy to, you’d have to suffer through the odor of your own scorched inner nostrils for probably weeks on end. Provided it didn’t sear your sinuses shut. Shit. Almost makes me not hungry for potted mystery meat. Almost.

    Anyway, if you’re the type of audience member who likes their movies done in the traditional “Point A to Point B” style, don’t expect to put too much on your feedback card. Deadpool‘s tale is almost as random and disjointed as our protagonist’s train of thought. It jumps back and forth between ‘Pool’s modern day hunting down of an ass boil from his past named Ajax (Ed Skrein) and important moments of our heroish hired killer’s sordid origins. We meet Pool’s longtime pal/sidekick Weasel (TJ Miller), his off-brand Golden Girl roommate Blind Al (Leslie Uggams), and the complicated love-of-his-life Vanessa (Morena Baccarin), who teaches us the right way to celebrate International Womens’ Day. We learn how assassins in the four-color realm deal with fatal diseases (spoiler: it’s all superpower inducing science experiments) and show the world that, yes, men also suffer from the unreasonable physical expectations established by mainstream culture (fuck you both, Hollywood and Hornywood). We also witness (“WITNESS ME!”) Stan Lee’s greatest and most gratuitous cameo yet, we ride along for the romantic odyssey of Dopinder (Karan Soni – go watch “Other Space” if you haven’t already!) the cab driver, watch Wade try to shake the good intentions of a persistent Colossus (courtesy of computer generated effects and the voice of Stefan Kapicic, possibly stolen from him by a BBTW [Big Beautiful Tentacled Woman]) and his X-Person-in-training Negasonic Teenage Warhead (Brianna Hildebrand), until the whole thing comes together in the massive rain of bullets, brawling, ‘splosions, spectacle, thrills and spills that you expect from any good superhero blockbuster finale.

    Oh, and DP gets his own theme song.

    Given that Deadpool hasn’t even grown into the 6 month old size “Ask me about A Serbian Film!” onesie I bought for it on its release day, what you’ve read so far is as much as I’ll offer up in the way of plot and spoils. It wraps up with a credits stinger that pays homage to the original Ferris Bueller “robed Matthew Broderick tells everyone to go home” bit. As with any good stinger, we get a tease that the next movie will feature longtime ‘Pool associate Cable, whom our hero tells us will either be played by Mel Gibson, Dolph Lundgren, or Keira Knightly. PLEASE, oh holy deities of the pictorial pantheon, let this mark the return of the original Frank Castle to Marvel’s movie scene, even if it has to be the b-league Fox universe.

    If you couldn’t tell by the big golden feather at the top of this page, I love this movie. The comedy, the action (and extremely graphic violence), the romance (and extremely graphic-but-keeping-it-‘R’ sex). Seriously, if you’re not looking for a woman like Vanessa or a man like Wade, you’re looking for the wrong person and you’ll only have yourself to blame when you’re on your deathbed realizing that you wasted your life on someone/someones who suuuuuuucked. Find someone who not only won’t discount your special brand of bullshit, but who will mark up its value so high that the market will take notice, wonder what kind of insider-trading fuckery is going on, and go into utter chaos as the effects ripple through the global economy. Why do you think the Evil Dead Bride and I are on our way to the “half of our lives together” mile marker like we’re misfits frolicking down the Yellow Brick? Oh, and on the topic of the picture’s pairings, Ajax and Angel are my new favorite supervillain couple. She for her bad-ass bruiser lady “can kick the titanium shits out of Colossus’ ass” look and gimmick and he for, well, his ability to dual-wield a pair of fucking fire-axes! It’s far from being the most powerful of mutant powers, but damn does it look cool!

    Given that Deadpool and Shoot ‘Em Up are my only two gold-feather standard flicks as of this episode, it looks like I have a definite type. I just fantasized about a Deadpool v. Mr. Smith team-up and am now sporting a raging semi (automatic). Anyway, not all of the jokes stick the landing, but like Kerri Strug with a broken ankle, they try their little hearts out. Not unexpected from the writers of Zombieland, but fairly unexpected from the writers of GI Joe: Retaliation. Freaking G.I. Joe. Frankenstein on a gas-powered pogo stick do I look forward to exorcising my thoughts on that two-backed beast of a double penetration feature.

    Packing a quick wit, frequent pop culture references, explicit vulgarity, and not afraid to go homoerotic when the scenario calls for it, you’d almost expect Deadpool to be a Kevin Smith script. It’s offensive. Not “Michael Jackson’s private porn stash” offensive, but definitely not for those of a delicate constitution. I saw a woman leaving the theater with her two youngish daughters after the lights came up, and was moderately shocked to see that they’d stayed through the entire experience, but parents are weird these days. Sure, my aunt let my cousins and I watch shit like Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2 and Pieces when we were young, but…well…the absorbency levels of my point are brought immediately into question now that I see that typed out. Well fuck. I watched some messed up movies as a pup. Never mind. Due to decades of wearing tiny Italian stereotype underwear and injecting Jolt Cola directly into my testicles, I’m sterile anyway, so my opinions on child rearing are irrelevant!

    I never liked that term, “child rearing”. Especially with it finishing out a paragraph that references MJ’s recently uncovered disturbing fetish material. Too soon.

    As much as I laud the writing, I gotta slip an appreciative hand to director Tim Miller too. Though he has an Oscar nom for Best Animated Short Film prior to this, and was behind the credit intros for Girl with the Dragon Tatoo and Thor: the Dark World, Deadpool is the man’s first feature. And not only did it turn out to be a proverbial barn burner as far as super happy party funtime flicks go, but also a bona fide Tetris (my new term for a “blockbuster”) in ticket sales. It made more than double its budgetary costs in the first weekend alone, and was still making money in small venues weeks after Batman Vs. Superman farted itself right out of theater-goers’ line-of-sight. If IMDB is to believed, final box office receipts say that the little merc made around $364 million domestically and has just opened in Japan at #1. Fox is predicting that the Yen made on Monster Island will bump the flick’s global take to over $800 million, making it, yes, THE HIGHEST GROSSING R-RATED MOVIE OF ALL TIME! Well, highest grossing worldwide. Here in the land of malk and vegan honey substitute it’s second highest after that theological snuff film The Passion of the Christ, which Drunken Hitler has announced will also be getting a sequel in the near future, so the race to the top of red band box office history should be getting very interesting over the course of the next few calendars!

    Until the careless whisper that will be Deadpool II: Deadpooler, I’m your dirty old Uncle Anubis vowing that I’m never gonna dance again. Before I go, though, I recommend checking out the Highlander of Golden Girls herself, Betty White, as she gives her thoughts on the tactical spandex wearing masked mass murderer’s big screen adventure! Check it out at this link. See ya next time, Hoober-Bloobs!


    Moral of the Story: Sometimes, just sometimes, maximum effort yields maximum results. You definitely earned your exclamation point, sirs and madams. Bravo. Have a nice crisp high five.


    In the realm of “heavy-handed insider jokes”, this one rates a Hellboy’s Right Hand.

    I’ve yet to have a prostate exam in my life, but I’m pretty sure that’s not part of it…

    Does Colossus live in fear that Gambit may have weaponized his Grape Nuts? I’m asking because it’s the only reason I could come up with for him being FULLY ARMORED WHILE EATING HIS BREAKFAST!

    Speaking of Grape Nuts, looks like Deadpool needs to cut down on his fiber intake. When your first movement of the day comes out like birdshot, there’s a problem. On a sidenote, our hero should also avoid Tokyo until he gets that taken care of. Damn Kancho players would have a field day with him.

    Trivia: Ryan Reynolds was so dedicated to being faithful to doing Deadpool right, that he literally paid $10,000 of his own money to Bea Arthur’s family to use her image on that shirt, because DP has a long standing love for the deceased “Maude” star.

    “If you ever leave your disgusting fingerprint smudges on one of my ‘Gilmore Girls‘ DVDs again, I will carve up your face so bad that Kakihara will look like a GQ cover model in comparison!”

    I think Morena Baccarin just gave me an ugly Christmas sweater fetish…

    Back to the “heavy-handed insider jokes” scale, this one definitely rates a Fisto’s Right Hand. Maybe even two.

    If Agent Smith and the backwards talking midget from the Black Lodge jerked off into a blender together and made a test tube baby with the resultant mixture, you’d get this guy.

    I’d make a joke here, but in all honesty, nothing I could come up with would top what Reynolds and Miller rattle off in the scene’s exchange. Magic.

    “Donald Trump? Is that you?”

    If Darlene Connor were re-imagined as a modern mutant (and worked at Hot Topic), she would be her. Her power would be the ability to shift tectonic plates with her mind and her codename? Sarchasm.

    “Are you ready to give up, X-Man?”
    “Give up?! I usually have to pay extra for this at the massage parlor!”

    Who doesn’t love a good “axes vs. swords” fight? It’s no “dueling chainsaws”, but it’s still plenty of fun to watch!

    I know it’s a good time to be thrifty, but trust me when I tell you not to go to a dentist whose office is an old refrigerator box in an alley behind Starbucks. Well, at least his is wearing gloves.


    Anubis will return next time in
    “Not Just Another Zombie Movie (Yes It Is)”

    Enjoy the review? Hate the review? Have a movie you’d like to see judged in The Tomb? Fill out the feedback form! Never has it been easier to make contact with a deitic being!

    All materials found within this review are the intellectual properties and opinions of the original writer. The Tomb of Anubis claims no responsibility for the views expressed in this review, but we do lay a copyright claim on it beeyotch, so don’t steal from this shit or we’ll have to go all Farmer Vincent on your silly asses. © October 1st 2013 and beyond, not to be reproduced in any way without the express written consent of the reviewer and The Tomb of Anubis, or pain of a physical and legal nature will follow. Touch not lest ye be touched.