Look, I have my limits, okay? Uwe Boll just pushes me too far.
Every time I try to put coherent thoughts down about Alone in the Dark, I fail. If you have seen a Uwe Boll movie, then you have an inkling of what’s in store for you. If not, then this movie should have the subheading “ABANDON HOPE, ALL YE WHO PUT THIS IN YOUR DVD PLAYER”.
I’m sure that given a few years and a mindwipe, I could cobble together something about how Stephen Dorff can’t even play a parody of himself. I could probably work together a theory on why Uwe Boll makes movies that suck so much they’re not even the kind of bad movie you can pop in on a Friday night and laugh. I could even, maybe, write a passionate argument about how Tara Reid’s not stupid, she’s just not a good actress and that’s what makes her look awful as an archaeologist (along with a god-awful script). I actually feel bad for Tara Reid. Sigh.
All of it, I could do – were it not for the worst sex scene I have ever had the distinct displeasure of seeing in a motion picture. My eyes did not want to drink in the sight of a bloated, stubble-covered Christian Slater, looking half miserable and half depressed as Tara Reid shucks her clothes. Watching the two wriggle under atrocious lighting with an untalented director to bring us something that resembles a facsimile of sex may render you unable to speak. And oh, Jesus, the sounds. I don’t know that I can ever forget it. This is the second time I’ve watched it. The scene is so bad I have the urge to get up and leave the room.
That’s when all thoughts of comprehensive analysis leave my brain.