February 14, 2014
Ajai, Maurice Jovan Billington
Edward Furlong as Marsden
Laurence Mason as Pirino
Shawna Waldron as Serafina
Shirly Brener as Colline
Aspiring filmmakers can use this film as an educational tool. If you want to know what not to do while assembling a picture, keep this one handy, and run through it shot for shot.
Back in 2008 Curtis Radclyffe directed a film called The Sick House. It was a muddled mess that made zero sense (by the way, Radclyffe – thankfully – hasn’t attempted to piece together another film since) and offered exactly nothing to viewers, outside of a look at the drop dead gorgeous Gina Phillips (okay, it’s hard to bitch about that) of course. At the time I could only compare it to the legendarily awful Roger Corman film, The Terror, which quite literally had no story, it was just a bunch of hazy scenes thrown together to capitalize on preexisting set pieces (that’s a brilliant idea eh, shoot a shitload of scenes simply because there are erect sets available?) and the services of a few marquee names. It meant nothing. There was no conflict, no resolution; no character development… just random scenes – some of which seemed to have no relation to any of the other scenes in the film.
Up until today, I’d considered The Sick House and The Terror the worst genre films ever made, simply because they weren’t films… they weren’t stories. They were just amalgamations of shitty scenes with no message or coherent idea behind them. Well, Ajai’s (whoever the hell that is) debut,Stitch just joined the ranks of The Terror and The Sick House. Like these other shitheap films, Stitchdoesn’t tell a story. It crams a heaping portion of ugly scenes together, and makes a depressingly bad attempt to make sense of it all inside the last three minutes (literally, the last three minutes) of the production. And no, I’m not simply being harsh, or opting to ignore crucial details of the movie. It’s just… complete and utter trash. So wretched in fact, that it kind of makes me miss all the dreadful little micro-budget films shot by inexperienced filmmakers doing little more than… experimenting. At least most of those flicks attempt to tell a story.
If you head over to imdb.com, you might actually be fooled into believing that this is another attempt at a quality story. The synopsis reads clear, and easily understandable: Parents grieving the loss of their young daughter head to the deep desert for a healing ritual, where they unexpectedly release sinister forces. I suppose that’s… kind of accurate. There is a couple attempting to deal with the passing of their child… everything else is as agonizingly confusing as an Alzheimer’s patient attempting to relay yesterday’s activities, to the most minute detail.
Four focal characters inhabit the picture. They all seem at odds with one another, and they’re apparently trapped in some form of haunted house; a house they cannot escape because there’s a sudden lightning storm outside so powerful and precise it’ll take aim and scorch anybody to exit the front door. Yep, that’s realistic. But there’s more. There’s a strange fiery demon running around the house; a locked door in the basement which seems to keep some malevolent force at bay (for a while); random mutilation in the form of sudden stitches that burden the bodies of our performers (I’m still attempting to work out the symbolism); rampant jealousy; possession. The bullshit reminds me of an old Longpigs song, it just goes on and on.
Here’s what hurts about writing reviews of this nature: I’m a fan of Edward Furlong, despite any challenges he may have faced away from the screen over the years. Furthermore, I think I just completely fell in love with Shawna Waldron (I’m taking a brief break to wipe away the drool), a bafflingly gorgeous woman on a purely natural level. She doesn’t need three pounds of makeup to get me riled up, in fact she’s stunning enough to do so without a lick of makeup. This woman could forever abandon the compact and I’d still recognize her as extremely attractive. It sucks to see two performers that I’m fond of (again, I admit I’m a “new” fan of Waldron’s) involved in such an unsystematic, underwhelming disappointment of a film. A film that, in truth, never, ever, ever should have been made.
On that note, aspiring filmmakers can use this film as an educational tool. If you want to know what not to do while assembling a picture, keep this one handy, and run through it shot for shot.
At this point, Stitch holds the unglamorous title of worst horror film of 2014. I guess beating out The Genzfeld Haunting is… some form of accomplishment. As nasty an accomplishment as it may be.