Bad Karma

Man….I wish I had taken my hiatus before a movie that wasn’t….this.

Because this movie is….dumb.

Bad Karma is a dumb stupid dumb movie made in 2002, which was a dumb stupid dumb year, by the way. The early 2000s were not a great time for horror films. And Netflix has pretty much ALL OF THEM. (Thanks, Netflix. Well done. I assume they had excellent bulk pricing.)

But not only do we get to enjoy all the fashion and music and terrible acting of ye olde 2002, we also get flashbacks to 1888 London because guess what, this movie is about JACK THE RIPPER GET OUT YOUR TOP HATS AND CAPES, KIDS. Did you know that 1888 London was super clean and shiny? Because it super was! It was the one time in history completely devoid of any kind of smog or pollution, especially in the impoverished areas of the east end of London. Props to the production team for finally getting the pristine beauty of the post-industrial revolution British slums exactly right.

I should back up and explain what this stupid and dumb thing is about, because of course it’s not JUST a Jack the Ripper story. That would be too easy. No no, this is about a crazy and, of course, very sexy lady (spoiler alert: BOOBS) in 2002 who is convinced that her therapist is the reincarnation of Jack the Ripper and that she is the reincarnation of his prostitute-murdering sidekick (spoiler alert: TITTIES). All she has to do is convince him to dump his wife and kid and get the sexy serial killing gang back together, and how does she do that? SPOILER ALERT: BOOB TITTIES.

Also murder.

Sexy murder.

I’ll say this about Bad Karma, it….is….not good. That’s all I got. It’s just bad and not good. The best part about it is that it’s only an hour and a half long, so you can get back to happier times of not watching Bad Karma relatively quickly. It’s plagued by everything bad about the early 2000s AND everything bad about a cheaply done and poorly researched period piece all in one. It’s also poorly written, acted, and produced, not that that should come as a surprise at this point in the review. I mean…..it did have titties though. So….that’s something (spoiler alert: something).

It ALSO has Patrick Muldoon, in it, who has a name I recognised but a face that left me with “hey, it’s that generically attractive white guy, he’s been in stuff” so I had to IMDB what the hell he was in. So boy howdy, I guess if you’re a fan of Melrose Place or Days of Our Lives, you’ll probably like this? I can only assume it’s the same production team – it didn’t not look like a soap opera. But what else has our leading man been in, you may ask? Well, if you didn’t see 2004’s Hallmark Channel original, A Boyfriend For Christmas, or even Lifetime’s All About Christmas Eve, or supposing you didn’t even catch his actual not-just-for-tv movie The Dog Who Saved Easter (this guy must just LOVE holidays!) perhaps you would recognise him from the same place I did: MOTHERFUCKING ICE SPIDERS.

Now I can’t talk too much about Ice Spiders right now because I am gonna talk about it SO HARD when I make it to the letter I, but suffice to say, it’s everything you expect from a film named Ice Spiders and I, personally, am very proud of Patrick Muldoon for bouncing back from Bad Karma to go on to star in Ice Spiders five years later.

I give this……TWO HORRORS.

One for the dumb bad stupid movie, and one for Patrick Muldoon of Ice Spiders.

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I’m proud of you, Patrick Muldoon.

 

 

Bad Karma

I’M BACK, BABY

I know, you’ve all missed me. You’ve been abstaining from horror movies because you have no one to warn you ahead of time about which ones are terrible and which ones are The Babadook.

In the past couple of months, I have moved across the country, started a new job, lived in two different apartments and have fully furnished one of them. SoI haven’t had much time for anything apart from Dumb Adult Things and drinking wine to cope with Dumb Adult Things. (I live in a normal state now with normal liquor laws and I CAN GET WINE WHEREVER I GO FUCK YES EVERYWHERE THAT IS NOT PENNSYLVANIA IS THE BEST.) (EXCEPT UTAH WHICH I HEAR ALSO SUCKS FOR BOOZE.) (PROBABLY ALSO FLORIDA, FOR FLORIDA REASONS UNRELATED TO ALCOHOL.) (ALSO MAYBE NOT WISCONSIN.) (YOU KNOW WHAT, NEVERMIND.)

But I am finally in my very own new apartment with my very own new bed and I’ve finally got some food in the fridge and I’ve finally got things like a chair and a shower curtain and I’ve finally beaten Pokemon Emerald, which means IT’S BLOGGIN TIME.

So put on your blog-reading socks and get those horror hats on, because tomorrow I am gonna write a blog post that’s not about writing a blog post and we’re gonna get this alphabet back the fuck on track. B ready. B-lieve it. B-log it. The second letter in the worst alphabet ever is coming right at your rods and cones THIS.

MEMORIAL.

DAY.

WEEKEND.

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WITH B-LACKJACK AND HOOKERS
I’M BACK, BABY