The Last Horror Movie



Directed by

Julian Richards

Written by

James Handel


Kevin Howarth .... Max

Mark Stevenson .... The Assistant

Antonia Beamish .... Petra

Christabel Muir .... Sam

Jonathan Coote .... John

Rita Davies .... Grandma

Joe Hurley .... Ben

Jamie Langthorne .... Nico

John Berlyne .... Phil

Mandy Gordon .... Sarah

Jim Bywater .... Bill

Chris Adamson .... Killer

Lisa Rene .... Waitress

Brian Bowles .... Newsreader

Alexandra Hill .... Bridesmaid


90 mins

This week I'm still coming to you thanks to Please, go. Then come back and read about a candidate for this year's most reprehensible movie.

What does it say about our society when someone can create a film exhibiting the

most awful kind of casual brutality and yet make that film so utterly, utterly

boring that it's almost unwatchable?

Want to find out? Check out Fangoria's newest release, "The Last Horror Movie."

So what we have here is the story of a wedding photographer with a dark

secret--he's a serial killer on the side.

And all this time I thought it was the wedding singers that went insane. But I

guess between photographing fat drunken uncles in ill-fitting formal wear,

various bridesmaids in matching horrible outfits, and inhaling developer roughly

four hours a day isn't exactly a recipe for sanity.

But anyway, Max, the wedding photographer is out documenting his insane antics

with the help of a homeless assistant. Max makes quite the charming lunatic,

and presents his audience with the mind of a madman. He realizes, to his

astonishment, that his audience is shocked by the casual brutality. This leads

him to ask the ten thousand dollar question:

"If you're so horrified, why are you still watching?"

He puts forth one answer:

"You shouldn't be. And that's why you are."

Which of course irritates me to no end. The last thing I need is a serial

killer trying to tell me it's all my fault that he goes off on the killing

rampages. This is the most stunning and inventive example of hypocrisy I have

ever had the displeasure of witnessing. The serial killer jams chunks of metal

into the bowels of innocent people and it's MY fault because I watch a certain

genre of movie.

Sure, Max. And it's the bank's fault I'm broke.

And yes, it's fictional. But frankly, I've heard it before, from pretty much

everybody who ever wanted to be allowed their crimes in peace. The callousness with which Max admits his crimes is truly alarming, and we've heard this before too. Watch the evening news some night, and you might well hear a serial killer admit to his crimes with all the remorse and emotion of a man detailing how many pizzas he ate last year.

It is as plain as the nose on my face, which I personally guarantee is both very

plain and also very substantial, that Julian Richards was going for "callous


And there's no doubt he got it. And he got its brother. And he got everything

in between and to the sides.

There is also no doubt that "The Last Horror Movie" serves its purpose. Julian

Richards wanted to put forth a thought-provoking piece about the nature of

maliciousness and satisfaction in life.

What Julian Richards did NOT do, however, was make an entertaining film.

"The Last Horror Movie" wavers wildly between mind-shattering, vicious brutality

and mind-shattering, vicious boredom. Long stretches of people eating, Max

carrying on conversations seemingly at random, and other, lesser materials are

thrown in amidst scenes people being beaten with steel claw hammers.

It is true to life, it is absolutely thought-provoking, and it is as dull as a

bag of anvils.

Life is not entertainment. If the reality TV movement didn't prove that fact

conclusively, nothing will.

Which is the worst part of the whole business. The fact that this kind of

movie, which is designed to exhibit casual mayhem and senseless slaughter at its

most egregious could also be the most boring film released in 2005 is profoundly


The ending is, well, yipes. Everything from brawls and fistfights to bizarre

culinary secrets and of course raving ranting hypocrisy like nothing ever seen

before by man is packed into this display of sheer bizarre, and at the same

time, vaguely terrifying.

The special features include deleted scenes, a behind the scenes featurette,

cast auditions, and a deranged little two-minute short film called "The Shoe

Collector" which is actually rather clever in its way. Also, we get trailers

for "Corn," "Gypsy 83," and "Virgin."

All in all, Julian Richards' magnificent think piece fails to entertain or even

vaguely satisfy. It is the single biggest yawnfest I've seen so far this year,

and this is also somehow alarming.