Death Pool (2017)
Starring Randy Wayne, Demetrius Stear, Sara Malakul Lane
Directed by Jared Cohn
When one sits down in a conference room, or living room, or hell, even on the porcelain throne to brainstorm an idea for the next great horror film presentation, does one TRULY delve way back into the recesses of their minds to find something intently disturbing? When I mean “disturbing,” I mean a premise that will shake an audience to its core – something that will have them not only rattled by what they’ve seen, but will take it to bed with them and revel in the notion that they’ll be able to discuss it with their pals the next day? Put on your chlorine togs folks, cause we’re about to half-gainer directly into the Death Pool…and I’d advise you to keep your mouths closed, because it’s not water that’s filling this swim tank.
Directed by Jared Cohn, this film revolves around Johnny Taylor (Wayne), your all-American looking adult that could easily pass for the guy that lives next door – he smokes, he drinks, and he’s got a hell of a traumatic incident in his past that has molded his life today. You see, when Johnny was a youngin,’ he had quite the visit from his bodacious (yet slightly sadistic) babysitter – she tried to get a few cheap laughs by holding the kid’s head underwater for some time, resulting in one messed up soul, and probably a crapload of therapy growing up. As the film would dictate, young Johnny grew up and became adult Johnny, and his disdain for the female form, especially around the chlorinated H2O is painfully obvious on more than one occasion. Hell, I’ll be so bold as to say the repetition meter in this film spiked a long time ago – meet woman, bring woman to pool, drown woman.
Now, I’m not pigeonholing Johnny for his lack of creativity, as he does in some ladies in kitchen sinks and kiddie pools as well, but my main issue with this film was that there was literally NOTHING else to fall back on here – he hated women, he drowned women – that was it, end of sad story. His string of water-wreckage has dubbed him “The Valley Drowner” by the local press, and his pseudo cult-following is in full-swing, and with his best pal (Stear) at his side egging him on, it looks as if the killings will never cease. I could ramble on and on about how this exhibit clearly had no direction, but I’ll start hitting on the shoddy performances, clueless actions of all characters, and the look of the film just had that discount, washed-out appearance to it – sometimes, the countenance of a film can be a saving grace…not in this case however.
Overall, there simply isn’t enough stackable evidence here in this movie to consider it worth a watch, even for the most hardcore fan – if you’re into the kills, fine. All you’re going to see are some drownings, then some more, then some more – lather, rinse, repeat – and if that’s the blueprint you’re going to work up, then you’ve at least got to have some sustainable plot to back it up – this one sunk to the bottom faster than a peanut-clustered bum-biscuit. Take a lap on by this one at all costs.
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Film
Categorized:Reviews
