No.2 - Lesbian Vampire Killers
Like a wet weekend version of Shaun of the Dead (2004), Lesbian Vampire Killers is the unwanted middle child, the Stephen to Alec Baldwin or more fittingly, the Cordon and Horne to Pegg and Frost. Those unfamiliar with the dismal duo from such shows as the woefully bland Gavin and Stacey are unlikely to remember their faces barely an hour after the credits. The reason? They’re not funny.
While the good looking straight-man is so unidentifiable he’d make Ralph Ellison jealous, the fat one hams it up (pun most definitely intended) as the overacting and blindingly unfunny sidekick. Clearly believing himself to be a comedic messiah despite having no credentials as a writer, this overblown Ricky Gervais knock-off shouts his way through the film, perhaps due to some misguided belief that volume equals hilarity. It doesn’t. And he might well remember this the next time he feels the need to place expletives between each preposition and pronoun like some drunken oaf using the f-word to impress his Neanderthal friends. To say I have a bit of an issue with this young thespian is evidently clear as by the end of the feature I wished the only killer to be HIS coronary.
Of course, the script doesn’t exactly give them much to work with. The jokes are rushed, half-written brain farts dripping in schoolboy humour and demonstrating about as much wit as a Jordan biography. Even the gore feels blasé, barely coming close to the imaginatively gruesome maiming of Hot Fuzz (2007) et al. With little in the way of story, the limited cast spend much of their time wandering around in directionless circles, repeating the same gags that failed to spark a laugh the first time and no doubt questioning whether or not the scenery would look any less tacky if it were covered in burberry. Few acts make the successful transition from TV to film, and these two are no exception; let’s just pray they’re the last.