A serial killer is cursing London with butcherings while stylishly dressed up as those badass-lookin’ plague doctors just with a professional cosplayer upgrade. Why? Because it looks cool and it’s easy to get sinners to repent by killing them. It’s up to a world weary detective (ain’t it always) to put a stop to things. Opening credits play over lazy AI prompts for “grimy British crime thriller” and let you know that you shouldn’t be expecting too much effort from this one. Helpful prostitutes, frustrated locals, boiling tension, a lack of answers, family drama, “THE BRASS IS ON MY ASS!” and baffled police officers are all familiar notes being plucked but there’s also a forced edginess to everything that makes it pretty damn cringeworthy while it tries and fails like a teenager dressing up as an adult to get some booze from a particularly strict gas station attendant. There’s also a social media subplot that really blows and some strong-handed messaging about print journalism… so it has that working against it as well. Eventually our top cop (Martin Kemp, giving way more than this movie deserves) figures out there’s some secret society shenanigans going on and parallels to the Ripper murders that plagued London in the 1880s. Pretty damn dumb or daft, I guess, considering where it originated. There’s some hilariously awful splat and the dialogue seems like it was written by a chatGPT knockoff. A movie that really feels like Joe Estevez should be in it… take that as you will.
No comments:
Post a Comment