This film isn’t very good.
There, I said it.
No point beating around the bush or going round the houses on this one; it was very good. Not sure really why I thought it might have been but you’ve got to give these things a chance, haven’t you?
I had read that the Wrong Turn series of films was worth a look; with a large fan base and a certain panache that implied a sense of worth to their watching. Unfortunately, I feel I was a little short changed at least by this SIXTH instalment of the franchise, if it can be called that. Those Transformer films are franchise, this just seems like an excuse to get creative with the fake blood, squishy, squashy sound effects and naked girls.
For what it’s worth the ‘story’ revolves around a bunch of American twenty-somethings who purposely go to what looks like, even from the outset, a mental asylum in the middle of nowhere and out of reach of those blooming mobile phones the kids insist on having with them at every turn. Cue obligatory look at phone and annoyance at it’s lack of signal (I’m pretty sure that scene was in here but I may be confusing it with every other ‘lost in the middle of nowhere’ horror. Actually, who cares? It’s definatley in there).
Anywho, this huge ‘spa resort’ (hence the title) in the middle of the American outback which one of the group has inherited or it’s owned by his family or some such. He, by the way is inexplicably a ex-Wall Street trader although I couldn’t quite get why or even what that was mentioned for other than for a little back story, Basil Exposition kind of thing. Even more strange than that though was one of the female characters, who had an unnecessarily active interest in… Yep, you guessed it. Antiques!
Oh yes, this girl could spot a Royal Doulton from an Armitage Shanks any day of the week and as luck would have the spa/mental asylum was chock fill with the shit, thus enabling a nice segue scene involving her trying to stuff up her handbag with china trinkets moving into her and her boyfriend discovering the ancient ritual sexy chamber under the West Wing. At which point the two of them forget completely about the bone china upstairs in favour of getting naked on the massively weird/creepy/get-the-hell-out-of-there subterranean sex-n-death room.
The ‘spa’, coz that’s what it is, is run by two characters who are ‘family’ and from here on in there ensues equal helpings of blood splatter, naked flesh, sex, death, bad acting, drug taking and badly advised pagan-y ritual. There’s also some incestuous redneck family members roaming the local woods killin’ folk and looking like Chunk from The Goonies.
It was all very horror by numbers on the cheap and looking cheap.
It just wasn’t very good… sorry.