1/10
Dear God...dear God.
6 September 2006
In this frightening shockumentary, a group of film critics and Tony Blair himself(!) venture into the dangerous outskirts of West Virginian hick territory to uncover the doubted existence of a mysterious "Tony Blair Witch." During a heartfelt homage (or just straight-up theft) of Cannibal Holocaust, a nutty professor treats us to the rare footage and scary behind-the-scenes adventures of this motley crue of cut-throats and thespian hacks. The retards participating in this excursion, who collectively possess about half the intelligence of the cast of Jackass (and half the balls), roam the countryside breaking windows in a ghost town while discussing the cinematic integrity of American-made Francois Truffaut films. How such behavior would elicit the attention of a mythical ghost is beyond this viewer's comprehension. I can only imagine they were trying to tick it off so it would run out and kick Mike's butt which is what I wanted to do after he forced me to watch this turd.

From a technical standpoint, this cinematic equivalent to cancer is wrong on every possible level. Windows are broken off-screen, accents are dropped on a whim and clothing changes from scene to scene, this being one of the few redeeming aspects of the entire show as it distracted for two milliseconds from the ADD-raddled, Parkinson-diseased cameraman who was literally making me nauseous after three minutes of his Michael Bay shaky-cam nonsense. As for editing, I always wanted to see what 30fps NTSC video would look like being tricked into 25fps. The result was not worth the wait. And the pacing...oh the pacing. Shots do not linger or dwell for atmospheric purposes, they break the void of time and space and suspend in the air like worthless amoebas existing for the sole sake of being. Honestly, this flick is paced like a block of cheddar cheese moving through the bowels of a 70-year-old platypus. How anyone in the editing room let this abomination of a cut pass is beyond any logical explanation and I refuse to listen to it. (I would have assumed the whole project didn't even go through an editing program, but a couple of unconvincing muzzle flashes proved me wrong.) Mike Martinez fares best in the cast with his accent being the most authentic and consistent, but when compared to the other bozos on screen (now working at McDonald's and Wendy's respectively) this is faint praise. I may as well be comparing the performance to dog crap. The movie is evil in that it tricks you into thinking it's over, but then some rednecks show up and we have to watch another thirty minutes of fake punches, high school play acting and just balls-out buffoonery. One actor throws up with a cup of green jello plainly visible in his hand. I mean, c'mon, this is just sloppy! I'm trying to think of something good to say, but I really can't. Truly a movie that lives up to its reputation.
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