AFTER.LIFE

by Dionisio Traverso Jr.

What. The. Fuck.

It takes a lot for a movie to get me angry. Usually it happens towards the end, when things fly off the rails and it’s clear whatever promise the film held is going to be unfulfilled. But this one….

Liam Neeson plays an undertaker preparing the frequently nude body of Christina Ricci for burial. Problem is she doesn’t think she’s dead, and keeps trying to escape the funeral home and get in touch with her boyfriend, who’s played by Justin Long. Weird, huh? What’s weirder is how they convinced these three good actors to be in this brain dead mess. From the beginning, the director throws shit at you for no good reason, trying for an “is it real, or supernatural” vibe, but it fails, especially when, if you’re paying attention, you realize **SPOILERS** it’s all real, just not fucking logical. That realization comes fast and early in the movie, which then serves up horror cliche after horror cliche in as dull a fashion as possible. I started annoyed in the first 10 minutes, disgusted by the next 20, to fill blown pissed off by the end. Seriously, Christina didn’t question that Liam was injecting her with a drug “to keep her pliable and hold off rigor mortis” even though, being dead, she would have no heartbeat and thus no blood flow to carry the drug into her system? Are the cops in this town so fucking stupid they don’t notice the coroner signing death certificates without seeing the body? This movie was so fucking idiotic it had to create a fake drug to facilitate a main plot point, even though there are real drugs that would create the desired symptoms!

The only things I can compliment are the fact that the film is well shot, and Christina’s nude body. And even those aren’t enough for me to award a full star, cheese wedge, whatever.

Fuck this movie. Damn it to hell. Absolute zero.

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