Hey, Uwe Boll! Not Even Cleavetastic Costumes Can Prevent Your Video Game Adaptions From Sucking the Big One

Ah, Uwe Boll. When there's so much to piss to take, where does one begin?

This German purveyor of shit-tastic movies from the fetid depths of Satan's asshole (though he prefers the term ‘director,' we're told) has been committing egregious crimes against film fans/horror buffs/video game aficionados/general humanity since 2003. In this year, presumably having been beset by an elongated case of constipation, he unleashed the vast, foul-smelling turd that was House of the Dead. In deference to the video game franchise, its progeny was a melodramatic, gore-infused shitstorm of high-octane theatrics. It was also, lamentably, "A grungy, disjointed, mostly brainless mess of a film... loaded with unintentional laughs." (-www.rottentomatoes.com)

Paying no heed to some hilariously venomous feedback (one critic's meticulous review consisted of the single word ‘bollocks,' hastily scrawled upon a sheet of used toilet paper and mailed to Boll. Other feedback included, ‘that was balls, Boll.' Except neither of these things happened), the Boll-ster would emerge as the go-to asshole for viciously smiting an array of illustrious gaming franchises in the testicles with the shovel of directorial ineptitude.

One particular highlight (or highshite if you will. Which you should, because that's some wondrous wordplay right there) would be Boll's BloodRayne trilogy. Loosely based -loosely enough that it's liable to drop right off come to that- upon the shenanigans of gaming's eponymous bosomy vampiress. A convoluted tale of Dhampir (human/vampire hybrids) vengeance, this festering heap of horseshit took until the third installment to even vaguely pertain to the original material. One scene in the first movie allegedly features a bevy of prostitutes (in lieu of actresses) and Meat Loaf. As Boll himself was (not) later heard to proclaim: "Come on, watch my latest craptacular celluloid catastrophe! It has whoresAND elderly crotch-thrusting rockers! What more could you bastards want?"

Star Michael Madsen himself provided the greatest salutation to BloodRayne, deeming it "...an abomination... It's a horrifying and preposterous movie." (-www.contactmusic.com) A sentiment we could righteously apply to the director's entire repertoire. See also: Alone in the Dark, Alone in the Dark II, In the Name of the King: A Dragon Siege Tale, Far Cry and more of Boll's Boll-ocks. Except don't literally ‘see' any of these, as they'll leave you with a fervent desire to punch your own eyes and ears in the face.

Regardless, don't leave with the fallacious impression that we're just mocking this guy, like the massive mocksters of mock that we are. Lest you continue your outrageous conclusion-jumping, there is some scant Uwe Boll praise to be had. We'll concede that his movies are akin to standing beneath a great waterfall of sewage, and being engulfed by the resultant unhygienic tide of terrible. Most pertinently, though, he is able to unerringly hit that so nut-numbingly appalling, it's hilarious niche. As such, some ludicrous entertainment value is offered here. Let us not forget, either, 2006‘s Raging Boll business. This was a series of PR-tastic boxing matches, between the disastrous director and a selection of his most disparaging critics. Which actually happened.

Uwe Boll, then, is a living embodiment of the old adage, If you're going to do something wrong, do itright. Although in this case, we'd amend the sentiment to If you're going to suck King Kong's five-foot phallus at film-making, be the suckiest suck that ever sucked; and if people don't like it, punch them in the genitals.

Not that boxing permits such underhanded bastardry, but the point remains.