Review by Ben Bussey
A word of advice to microbudget filmmakers who plan on subjecting us to yet another by-the-numbers torture flick: might be best to give yourselves a title that doesn’t invite cockney rhyming slang. Flashing the word ‘terrible’ in the opening sequence perhaps isn’t the best step either. First impressions count for a lot, you know. You might want to at least craft the illusion that your film has something going for it, and that it might in any way be a fulfilling use of the viewer’s time. I mean, if you’re not actually going to go to the trouble of writing an interesting story populated with interesting characters, or find interesting actors to perform it, and put the whole thing together in an interesting way, then – I don’t know – at least give it an interesting title. Call it Bigfoot’s Giant Chicken Sandwich, or something. Or Killer Pigeons of the Outer Hebrides. So it wouldn’t have any connection to the film itself; big deal. Who’s really going to give a shit, when you’ve made a film of which we can pretty well guarantee absolutely no one is going to give a shit about anyway?
(Incoherent, rambling opening paragraph? Maybe. I don’t care. I just had to sit through this turd sandwich.)
Right then: to set the scene for the benefit of the casual reader who still thinks there’s a slim possibility they might wind up actually giving a shit about this film (you won’t, I assure you), there’s this quirky little social club of murderers. There’s a rich politician type in a suit, with an attractive oriental daughter. Then there’s a sweaty bloke in a vest and camouflage jacket, and a vaguely glam young woman who talks too much, and a leather jacket/ goatee beard guy who also talks too much. Actually, all of them talk too much, with the exception of a marksman type guy who only opens his mouth now and then, and under the circumstances I still feel that he talks too much. I’m not in a forgiving frame of mind right now, what can I say? Anyway, this bland bunch of uninteresting stock characters systematically abduct another bunch of similarly bland and uninteresting stock characters: computer nerd guy, serial womanising misogynist guy, goth girl, rich girl, sporty girl, scary girl, ginger girl. (Okay, I made up the last two. I have to amuse myself somehow, as mentally reliving this vapid excuse for a film isn’t going to do it.) Presumably the first bunch of uninteresting characters have done this thing six times before, as they class this as – yes, you’ve guessed it – the seventh hunt. I’m not quite sure how they class it as a hunt, however, given that they each take one of the prisoners, incapacitate them, talk to them for a while under some pretence of exploring deep psychological themes, then kill them. Not a great deal of actual hunting going on. They just talk, and talk, and occasionally stab and punch, and go on, and on… but then, oh, there’s some sort of twist, and then oh, there’s another twist of some sort, except by that point you really will have long since stopped giving a shit, assuming you were ever so foolhardy as to start giving a shit, because the entire enterprise is so mind-numbingly tedious, uninvolving and stupid from beginning to end.
If I was in a more generous mood, I might offer a few words in defence of writer/director/editor JD Cohen, inasmuch as the camerawork and editing aren’t too bad in spite of the utterly bog standard DV stock and obviously overdubbed dialogue. However, as may already be clear, I’m not feeling generous right now. I’ve sat through too many of these half-baked, poorly conceived, terribly realised microbudget shitfests to be kind towards yet another when it comes marching along and whisks away another ninety minutes of existence on this earth that I won’t be getting back.
I beseech thee, microbudget indie filmmakers, wherever you may be (this particular film’s Australian, if that matters to anyone) – you really must start making more of an effort. There has long been a romantic notion about indie film, that it is the arena in which new ideas can thrive, new voices can be heard, and real risks can be taken. Every now and again we still see glimmers of that. And yet year after year we get so many of these painful excuses for films, all of which look like crap, sound like crap, have crap actors delivering crap dialogue and acting out crap scenes, and generally leave the viewer with little to say about the whole experience other than, “Gosh, that really was a load of crap.” Furthermore, I beseech the distributors who keep picking up these pieces of crap and putting them out there for the world to see…STOP. The more of this worthless crap you put out there, the more lazy, unimaginative filmmakers are going to pop up thinking, “Hey, if that piece of crap can get distribution, maybe I can make something crap and sell that too.” And so the cycle of perpetual crap will go on, until you find good products to put out there, or produce some good products of your own, or – I dunno – find another line of work.
7th Hunt is out on Region 2 DVD on 20th February, from Left Films. If you must.