Way back, I remember driving home from somewhere with my dad. It was a hot, Texas day, and we had the windows rolled down (probably each of us with one arm more tanned than the other). My dad slowed his rickety VW van, and said something semi-excitedly to the effect of, Hey, do you smell that? And despite never really having a reliable sense of smell, I did. Sweet Jesus, I did. Yeah, I smell it. What is it? My dad smiled and quickly pulled over. C'mon. This was yet another time that my dad would do something crazy in the name of one thing: His collection.
Of skulls.
This past Thursday, I caught the last possible showing of The Collection before the influx of Friday's new releases. I know, lucky f--k, right? Well, not so much. This movie was laughably bad and I had no business seeing it. But, as has been the case countless times, I had an expiring free pass and felt obligated not to waste it. My wife had come home too late for me to catch Killing Them Softly, so this was the only thing starting that I hadn't seen. Well, Red Dawn was a possibility too, but that movie actually received worse reviews, and I was convinced that it was just the Expendables minus all the famous guys and violence. Sounds promising enough...
Anyway, I sat down alone in theater 10 (like, completely) , and began to stare at the screen with mild indifference for the first of the 82 total minutes. I had heard somewhere that this was a sequel, but shockingly, I missed the first one. Well, f--k, guess I'll get my stuff and lea---hold on. Was that Shooter McGavin? Oh shit! Dude just got f--ked. Up.
And with that, we're off to Shit Town, with the occasional stop in the vicinity of Mediocrity. I mean, Horror Shit Town, and Horror Mediocrity, of course. Yes, in a genre where at least three-quarters of it is downright awful, The Collection does little to separate itself. We've got a creepy-looking, speechless Bad Guy, who is also is like a Jedi version of Kevin McCallister. Just replace the pony-tail with a gimp mask.
Of skulls.
Anyway, I sat down alone in theater 10 (like, completely) , and began to stare at the screen with mild indifference for the first of the 82 total minutes. I had heard somewhere that this was a sequel, but shockingly, I missed the first one. Well, f--k, guess I'll get my stuff and lea---hold on. Was that Shooter McGavin? Oh shit! Dude just got f--ked. Up.
And with that, we're off to Shit Town, with the occasional stop in the vicinity of Mediocrity. I mean, Horror Shit Town, and Horror Mediocrity, of course. Yes, in a genre where at least three-quarters of it is downright awful, The Collection does little to separate itself. We've got a creepy-looking, speechless Bad Guy, who is also is like a Jedi version of Kevin McCallister. Just replace the pony-tail with a gimp mask.
