It’s usually fun to write bad reviews, coming up with that great bon mot that effectively explains just how putrid this or that given film is. Take the hyperbole at face value – PASSION PLAY isn’t just one of the worst films I’ve ever seen, it’s painful to even recollect and write about afterward. When being bitchy about a film isn’t even satisfying, it’s an atrocious work indeed.
While it will soon be forgotten and dumped to the dustbin of film history, a part of me will forever be scared, remembering this as nothing more than the “Megan Fox has wings and fucks Micky Rourke” movie. There’s a circus, and other things. People get shot. Solomon Burke is wheeled out onto his throne, making the audience sad that there’s a great artist on screen surrounded by idiots. I think there’s a car or two.
But in the end this is the Fox-with-wings flick, all leading to the most cloying, awful “twist” since 6TH SENSE made me throw popcorn at the screen. In this case, I couldn’t even muster up the effort, the film so bad I couldn’t even care anymore. It breeds nihilism and a sense of fear that somebody, somewhere thought this was a good idea. Well, let me assure you, there’s nothing good about this play, it is deeply, irredeemable horrible, not even worth of watching ironically or while on whatever psychopharmaceutical they’ve used to convince these participants that this was worth doing. This is the biggest whoring for cash/favours that Bill Murray has ever done (the director wrote SCROOGED, and I guess BM owed him either a BJ or this film).
Awful, awful, headbangingly awful film.