Doomsday
If I was the kind of person who walked out of / switched off movies, and lord how I wish I was sometimes, I would’ve been done with this around the hour mark. It fits the mould of the Grindhouse movies, particularly Planet Terror, but like, in a really, really bad, sad, pathetic wannabe British way.
I really don’t want to write what I really think of this movie because I did so and I read it back and I just don’t want the feedback that what I wrote might trigger. That some people might get some enjoyment out of this movie doesn’t bug me. That someone like Neil Marshall can make such a movie and still somehow be regarded as a gem in the British film industry … no matter how much I may try to distance myself from the herdlike mindset of the masses … it still makes me feel ashamed to be alive.
I’m inclined to add somewhere here, “y’know what, it’s just not for me,” but I’m sick of it. I’m sick of it being somehow okay for people to get a kick out of shit like this while I and others get regarded as sickeningly weird for, relatively speaking, reasons that couldn’t be more innocuous.
‘kay, like I said I didn’t even intend to include those last few sentences, but I couldn’t bring myself to delete them anyway. I’m not sickened this way by many things. I laugh at people who are sickened by such things in such a way. But I don’t know what else to say about this movie. It just made me wanna die, and right now all I wanna do is get any words I have about it published so I can move on. And for the record, I wrote the bulk of this long before this past weekend’s events. Thank God I didn’t watch it after, or I mightn’t be here at all.