The movie reviews of Rex Reed inspire fierce debate: Questions like, Is he the worst critic alive, or the worst critic in history? Is he a terrible writer, or a terrible person who happens to write? Is he a a greater waste of column inches or oxygen?
Reed's latest affront to the profession -- of which he may be counted a practitioner only on account of the fact that he was not always an affront to sentient life -- is his review of V/H/S 2, which he reviewed after walking out somewhere in the first 20 minutes. (I say "walking out" even though Magnolia, which distributed the film, regularly provides DVDs to critics, since I'm unsure how Reed would operate a player without opposable thumbs.) Granted, it must be hard for any movie to hold Reed's attention that does not promptly offer him an opportunity to deride an actresses's physical size, but even so, it takes serious cojones to bail on a four-part anthology film having seen the work of only one of its directors and still review it.
Reed's review is short, so Criticwire is reproducing it in full, in part because at this point it's clear that the New York Observer is simply running Reed for the hate-clicks: The subhead, which reads "V/H/S 2 is unwatchable from start to finish" amounts to a juvenile taunt. Frankly, I'm reluctant to give any further attention to a writer who draws a paycheck for making a mockery of a noble profession while intelligent critics scramble for crumbs all around him. (I know it's hard to find qualified film critics in New York. Maybe try throwing a rock at the next Film Forum screening.) But seriously, this has to stop.
In this indescribably gory, violent, plotless and deranged purloin of every horror movie ever made by amateurs with a wobbly, nauseating handheld camera, seven unknown directors hell-bent on remaining that way enter a dark, deserted house containing a pile of VHS tapes. One by one, they insert the tapes, and onto the screen flash five [sic] episodic creep shows involving a mountain biker pursued by flesh-eating zombies, a cult of Satan worshipers and a sleepover invaded by psycho kidnappers told from the perspective of a GoPro camera attached to the back of a dog. V/H/S/2 is a diabolically psychotic, sub-mental and completely unwatchable disaster that I happily deserted when a man with a retinal implant scooped out his bionic eye with a sharp object, splattering blood all over the camera. Your move, and you're welcome to it.