1/2
From the man who crapped out the “Vomit Gore Trilogy” comes a new patience-stretching excursion in stupidity and shock. Angela Aberdeen kills herself and we learn, as she revisits past traumas, what awfulness pieced together the tragedy of Angela. So-so gore and the usual bodily fluids mix in with strong sound design and an abuse of public domain cartoons. It’s lowest common denominator carny bullshit peppered with a level of pretension that is pretty damn laughable. I believe the old saying goes: “I’d rather be fist fucked by a pissed-off Russian bear than sit through another Lucifer Valentine film.” As someone who has done both, I can say with certainty; I’ll pick the temperamental ursidae every time.
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