Sometimes it’s embarrassing being a fan of horror. As a genre, it frequently disappoints.
Watching a film in company, you’re often left feeling a touch like a moron, as a film that promised shocks, foreboding and nightmarish effects turns out to be a fetid floater in the annals of film history. Creep is the last picture that left me feeling that way, and now Hatchet comes along, like a slow diarrhea from the bottom of a constipated frat-boy.
Might as well get down to business straight away and let you know that Hatchet is a bin-bag full of some unoriginal child’s poo. The posters you see about town at the moment boast that this is an ‘old school American horror’. I’m not sure exactly what they mean by that. It certainly feels dated. They also boast that it’s ‘not a remake, …a sequel or …based on a Japanese one’. Though all those facts might help to drag an audience in, a boast about originality is not really a claim this film can make.
I know it’s meant to be an affectionate parody of slasher films, an homage, a pastiche, all those other words that basically allow a film-maker to rip off past, better film-makers. The problem is that it does it with no style whatsoever. The jokes fall constantly fall flat, the acting is piss-poor and the setting is bizarre considering most slasher films (aside from Friday 13th) usually are based in suburbia. So the homage is incomplete, the jokes aren’t funny and the horror itself is leaden and completely ineffective. Which all combines to leave you with an impotent little movie.
At least it had loads of tits in it.