Donkey Punch

Bomb Rating: 

I felt like I was caught in a closet and being forced to watch four of my old high school friends go at it, only they had never done it before. Awkward.

Before I saw Donkey Punch,  I was somewhat tolerant of British film. Now I feel inexplicable anger that such raging self indulgent shit can still make it onto the cinema screen. The world will shun this movie. There will be mass concessions of people collecting around twenty foot holes dug in the Sahara desert, just so they can symbolically bury the DVD release.  

Directors Oliver Blackburn and David Bloom will be imprisoned and beheaded by Queen Elizabeth, their heads displayed on lances in Trafalgar Square. That will teach them to ruin the world view that British people retain a shred of talent. All of  J.K. Rowling's built up goodwill is undone. I find myself wishing Islam would declare jihad on Donkey Punch.  

The storyline may have been salvaged had a gifted writer written it, but it wasn't meant to be. Three girls and four guys on a boat, taking drugs, having sex and murdering each other. That is the story, in that order. It begins, and I grit my teeth when I say it, when the blonde whore (Sian Breckin) gets donkey punched. When you take a girl from behind, and chop her Jet-Li style in the neck, apparently she has an involuntary muscle spasm that makes it feel good for the guy. The problem is the girl dies from the chop. What a novel idea. 

This sends the cast, who by the way are not worth mentioning, into hysteria, paranoia and depravity. The girls are terrified, but somehow manage to kill all the guys, so really, how scared could they have been in the first place? The ending is horrible, but better than the beginning and middle because at least you know it's over. The sad reality is that after people ignorantly watch this film, teenage girls will be scared to 'take it from behind' and days later you'll hear about that stupid twit who actually chopped their girlfriend mid-fuck. It makes my eyes burn just thinking about it. Or maybe that's the tiger balm I rubbed in them last night to shield me from seeing Bluey's (Tom Burke) cleft lip. I don't remember.  

This movie screws up every plot line it spews onto the screen. The actors are unknown which of course leads to a drug induced sex frenzy in the first twenty minutes. Now, I like a good sex scene as much as anyone else, but I never imagined anyone could mess it up like Donkey Punch did. I felt like I was caught in a closet and being forced to watch four of my old high school friends go at it, only they had never done it before. Awkward. The murder was even bad. Blood looked like corn syrup and wounds looked like sponge dipped in corn syrup.  

My favorite scene was when Tammi (Nicola Burley) had to smash her way through a thick door of glass, because if they didn't get help, they were going to die. Seconds later she tells Kim (Jaime Winstone) to get help, so what does Kim do? She turns around and opens the locked door behind her, disappearing into the boat. Why go through the glass Tammi, if the door behind you is already open? Idiots. 

Donkey Punch promises cupcakes and delivers broccoli. It's boring, the characters suck, the sex is bad, the murders are pathetic and on the whole you're better off watching a dripping faucet. It's a thriller because the film industry is still too proud to create the 'mistake' genre. Slot this one next to Gigli and Deuce Bigalow. And for the love of God, don't donkey-punch anyone.

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