Blackout is possibly one of the worst films I’ve ever seen. It’s Christmas in an unseasonably hot LA and we’re in an apartment building with the residents, trapped during a blackout. With a monster. Who wants to kill them. Yep. You read it right, people. And yes. It is as bad as it sounds.
This is an unfathomably horribly acted, terribly scripted, cheesy excuse for a film. I feel so compelled to get my point across that I actually had to go back and note down one particularly unforgivable piece of dialogue. Warning, those of you with good taste and or delicate sensibilities should avert your eyes now:
Girl: …besides, you love checking out this rack [she’s referring to her own boobs, here]
Guy: I told you, you don’t have to work, I could support you
Girl: And then I’d have to blow you, like everyday and what would that make me
Girl: You’d like that wouldn’t you?
Let’s just let that sink in for a minute.
If you’ve managed to swallow that little bit of sick you just did in your mouth, I’ll continue.
The badly drawn characters have less depth than Paris Hilton’s Chihuahua’s paddling pool (that is, not much). Don’t even get me started on the ‘monster’. How convenient that it seems to be man-shaped. But why is it there? Where does it come from? What does it want? Who gives a shit? Why, in the name of arse, am I watching this turgid and excruciating piece of utter garbage? You too, will ask these questions and more. Although I hope not. I hope you save yourself.