(Why? They’re assholes, I guess.) What follows is about thirty minutes of ghoulish pranks, real murders, and the whole world psychologically abusing Vickie the Known Recovering Serial Killer.
It seems that her siblings got used to her being gone and want to return to that state of affairs by snapping her fragile psyche like a twig. Vickie is caught and institutionalized, but upon her release five years later, she finds a cool welcome back home. Their troubles start when youngest daughter Vickie Kent butchers two teenagers playing hide-and-seek in a foggy graveyard. The other branch of the family is chronicled in excruciating detail for the remainder of the movie. To say that this movie is “about” anything gives it too much credit, but the plot (such as it is) goes something like this: the Kent family has issues… so many issues that one side of the family all murder each other in the opening three minutes of the film and are never seen, heard of, or mentioned again. Like a Lovecraftian hero, though, I am compelled to speak of this eldritch abomination that mine eyes have witnessed, so gird your friggin’ loins and listen up. I was also concerned that I might put my own blog out of business, because really… where can I go from here? Viewers who survive Dismember will be too jaded to ever feel surprise… or love, or hope… from watching a movie ever again. Associated symptoms include lingering bad taste and severe dysentery.
Dismember could prove fatal to someone who rolls their eyes at “Sci-Fi Original Movies,” so press “PLAY” at your own risk.Ī recovering viewer of ‘A Night to Dismember’. Its runtime is only 69 minutes, but I had to take breaks at 15-minute intervals to lie flat on the floor and wait for my brain to stop bleeding. I’m a hardened veteran of midnight movie tomfoolery, and even I couldn’t watch this film in one sitting. Trust me when I say that this movie isn’t something just anyone should attempt. I almost didn’t write this review on moral grounds… the same grounds that make scientists wonder if it’s a good idea to publish research on weaponized bird flu. But how far can it go before you hit bedrock in this mire and break through into Cinematic Hell? One awful night about a month ago, I found out. Film snobs typically assign Plan 9 From Outer Space that spot of infamy grindhouse buffs willing to get their hands dirty and sully their brains will find far worse among the likes of Chloe, Love is Calling You or The White Gorilla. The title of “worst movie ever made” isn’t bandied about quite as casually as most “worst ever” labels, perhaps because even the infrequent moviegoer quickly discovers that there are so many potential claimants.
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