Movie Review: Don’t Let Him In by Peatree Bojangles

Don’t Let Him In (2011) Dir. Kelly Smith

I will review this as I watch it because I am ill and the thought of formulating actual sentences outside of my direct vision could give me cancer, or something as horrifically tragic. It starts off with images of a girl tied up, arms being sawn off, a strange mumbling voice, some moaning that my flatmates may have found a tad awkward and the woods. Basically, I’m already bored. The soundtrack seems to be something Trent Reznor could shit out in a mere 3 seconds but chooses not to because of the pain involved in said shit.

TWO DAYS EARLIER. I always find those moments funny. I know the ending now, cheers guys.

It’s a British film. As if to emphasis Britain’s frivolous booze culture, a female character is introduced waking up hungover and with a strange man in her bed. We’re also whores. Oh and we have terrible fucking eyebrows. So this girl, her brother and brother’s wife are going on a trip and now the one night stand is also coming.

Lovely shots of the M25 as they drive to somewhere, I didn’t hear, I was busy crying loudly. The strange man, Tristan  is a prick. I have gathered this, so far. As the young sister is pissing in woods, a ‘traveller’ comes along to warn them about the ‘strange going ons’ and reads everyone’s palms. She is also a prick. I can’t the bothered to learn anyone else’s name, so the young annoying whore is BitchFace, the brother is AverageCunt and his wife is ProbablyOnViagra.

The local police officer has informed AverageCunt and ProbablyOnViagra about a serial killer roaming the area, killing people and hanging them from trees. So leave, right? You’d just get in your car and leave. Avoid all that pesky torture. HAHAHAHAAA. Okay, so the last victim was found because an art teacher who took the kids out to sketch trees found one of her pupils casually sketching a dead disemboweled body hanging in front of her. ‘But Miss, looook!’ she says, pointing haphazardly at the horror in front of her.

Also, Tristan’s been missing for two hours so BitchFace and AverageCunt have gone out in THE DARK, in THE WOODS, where they have been told A SERIAL KILLER IS ROAMING to find him. I feel like I’m reading a suicide note. Oh and someone was killed earlier but I didn’t care enough to tell you. Tristen turned up. He was at the pub. Exchanging in some banter probably. What a cunt.

The acting is pretty spectacularly fucking awful. A man comes into their cottage, bleeding and near death so obviously ProbablyOnViagra announces she’s a nurse and can stitch him up. Tensions are high, or something. I don’t know, I’ve been checking Facebook for the past 10 minutes. The guy they stitched up will be called Beardy. BitchFace is now flirting with Beardy, IT’S FUCKING GROSS. KEEP YOUR FANNY IN YOUR PANTS YOU WHORE, I CAN SMELL YOU FROM HERE.

Oh God, they’re fishing now. It’s as if they want me to go to bed. I will. I WILL DAMMIT STOP TESTING ME. AverageCunt is dead, Tristen killed him. His death was as boring as that sentence. Beardy goes out to look for AverageCunt IN THE DARK WHY WON’T THESE PEOPLE LEARN? THEY DESERVE TO DIE. I have a headache.

Something just happened and I am so utterly baffled. I don’t think it matters anymore does it? Beardy’s the killer OH WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT? If this can be turned into a film, so can my late night drunken renditions of Taxi Driver at my own startled reflection. I churned out better shit than this at uni and I failed uni.

I wasted precious masturbating time on this.

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