Before diving headfirst into the worst list, it is time to unveil the honorable mentions. You might be wondering what constitutes an honorable mention when listing the worst horror movies. These are the fright flicks that definitely deserved to be ranked amongst the decade’s worst but I just could not bring myself to put them on the list because their undeniable badness proved a laugh riot. The following four honorable mentions are granted a stay of execution for being so bad they are funny.
A motion picture that will live in infamy! The movie that effectively introduced the movie-watching world to a mad German named Uwe Boll and we have never been the same since. Trash talking before the release about how his film was going to kick Resident Evil’s ass – way to set the bar high there, Uwe; trash talking Internet fan boys after the release for decrying his magnum opus as an incompetent and incoherent debacle that has only the faintest ties to the plot less video game on which it is based.
At least it is lively, something that cannot be said of a few other Boll-infused snoozers. This deliriously insane mess verges so sharply into Edward D. Wood, Jr., territory on so many occasions House of the Dead may very well be Plan 9 from Outer Space for the 21st Century. Boll tried putting out a “funny version” of this film that wasn’t even 1/100th as intentionally funny as his crowning achievement was unintentionally so.
Four words: non-religious identical twin stigmata. A high concept movie in the sense that everyone involved with the making of it had to have been high. In Lindsay Lohan’s case, that’s a given. What is everyone else’s excuse? This level of jaw-dropping WTF-ness requires serious effort. You simply cannot make a movie that achieves the levels of badness that this surreal schlock does without having started out with loftier goals and without question, I Know Who Killed Me was clearly a Herculean effort on the part of its makers.
A perfect storm of cinema gone wrong: a tabloid fodder actress trying to change her on-screen image even though it’s her off-screen image that needs changing and an off-the-charts preposterous screenplay, which not even a director created by Dr. Frankenstein from the parts of Alfred Hitchcock, David Lynch, Tod Browning, and Brian De Palma could make into a workable film. Simply has to be seen to be believed!
Mark Wahlberg has given the best performance in the history of cinema by being an actor behaving like a man suffering from a concussion not actually playing a character suffering from a concussion. Zooey Deschanel is doing the most uncanny impression of a perpetually startled lemur you will ever see; philosophical arguments in defense of the hot dog; people trying to outrun and even outsmart the wind.
A loopy ecological thriller about pissed-off plants that cause people to commit suicide in the most preposterous manner possible; to think when the decade began M. Night Shyamalan was being compared to the likes of Alfred Hitchcock and Steven Spielberg.
So why isn’t Ultraviolet one of the top ten instead of a runner-up? Ultimately, that characters are these mutant vampires called “hemophages” was more an excuse to explain why everyone fights with superhuman abilities than it adds a horrorific vibe to this Skittles-colored world of tomorrow. Therefore, a dishonorable mention is in the cards. Rest assured, though, Ultraviolet is one of the worst films of the past decade of any genre.
Vampires. Cyberpunk. Anime aesthetics. Kung fu. Gun fu. Flaming sword fights. Milla Jovovich in spandex. What’s not to love? Everything! What was meant to be a visual tour-de-force ended up being an unwatchable mess made all the more intolerable by its insufferably smug look-how-cool-I-am attitude. Of all the movies listed here that I saw in a theater, Kurt Wimmer’s masturbatory case study in putting style over all the stuff that makes a movie watchable was the only one that led to the most walkouts – over two thirds of the audience were long gone before the closing credits rolled.
A screenplay so indecipherable Dan Brown could pen a new novel about the world’s greatest screenwriter setting off on a mystery quest to piece together the clues trying to make sense of it all. A film so confounding Uwe Boll had to add an opening text crawl longer than the closing credits of some movies explaining what the hell was going and this text still marked the first, last, and only time Alone in the Dark bordered on coherent. So illogical a film even Dragon Wars could make fun of how nonsensical it was – that’s saying something.
You would expect even a truly bad movie boasting monsters from another dimension, zombies, centipede-like parasites, sand worms, paranormal commando units, Christian Slater doing Matrix-style kung fu, and Stephen Dorf getting blown to kingdom come would still find a way to be entertaining to some degree. However, Dr. Boll manages to bore even, as he piles convolution on top of convolution on top of convolution and not even Tara Reid comically miscast as an allegedly brilliant anthropologist, who cannot even correctly pronounce “New Foundland” could salvage it.
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