My Love Will Endure

I wanted to like Van Helsing. Actually, I wanted to fucking love it. I think Hugh Jackman is dreamy--in a heterosexual way. Kate Beckinsale is unbelievably beautiful--in an I want to hump her children's children's children way. I love monster movies and am even a bigger fan of versus films. This movie was destined for Bob to enjoy. The problem is I absolutely hated it.

I could blame it on Stephen Sommers; he is a talent less hack. But you see, I liked the Mummy films, they were good popcorn flicks and well worth $6.00 a pop.

I don't want to think it, more less write it, but maybe Hugh Jackman was the problem. Van Helsing wasn't a likable character, nor did he work as a dark anti-hero. And, I won't even mention the whole "I am a Werewolf" character arc. Kate Beckinsale sucked. Her accent was horrible and she brought the emotional impact of a dead possum to the character. All I could think was, "Please take your shirt off and spank me like I like it." Ok, I would have thought that regardless but she still sucked.

Richard Roxburgh, who played Dracula, was painful to watch. Dracula is supposed to be menacing, not horrifically funny. However, his performance was not the worst in the film, not by a long shot. Frankenstein was the biggest disappointment in the entire film. He acted like a monk with sexual identity issues, which doesn't work for the original Zombie without a cause. I could forgive the performances and directing, or lack there of, if the story made some sense and provide a minimal amount of enjoyment. It failed to do both.

The story sets up a sequel during the first ten minutes, it just never bothers to tell a story within the actual movie itself. This is typical of Sommer's work; he usually presents a series of loosely connected action sequences with no semblance of story to be found there in. Like I said earlier, I liked the Mummy films, so I am all for movies with no plot. All I require and really need from a film is to be entertained, be it in the form of bouncing breasts, pie sex, Freddy eviscerating Jason, or the whispered utterance of Rosebud. Van Helsing utterly failed to provide any entertainment value. I found it almost as objectionable as House of a Thousand Rob Zombies.

I am glad that I missed it at the theatre, but I am upset that I wasted $3.00 renting it. I want my money back and, more importantly, I want my two hours of time back--I still love you Hugh and want to carry your baby, in a man-crush sort of way.


Go to Hell