They could've gone two ways with this. One would be to keep churning 'em with a straight face like Saw did, so presume the whole plot still matters while the tacit understanding is that you're serving us a bunch of gruesome deaths once a year and we show up because we're curious cats. The other way, what they did, was to realize that everyone is waiting for you around the corner, every critic and fan in town, so you spring on us and take the p#ss of the whole thing yourself.
How to go about this? First get a pal of Sam Raimi's to direct, who had done a pretty wacky slasher some 15 years ago about a maniac in a supermarket and knows that a tongue may be pushed so firmly in cheek it bleeds, then recast the whole thing from the dingy basements of Eastern Europe to the dazzle of Las Vegas as a show that we have paid to watch.
The idea is lifted right off the Wizard of Gore remake from '07, but remains a clever little way of addressing us from our position as viewers. We have come to watch, knowing what it's about. We can get up and leave anytime. But most of us are going to sit for the duration, enjoying or hedging our bets.
The first kill is suitably Hostel-ish. The cringe-worthy of inevitable, horrible violence that we are powerless to stop, what was dubbed 'torture porn' when the iron was still hot. It's the only kill that reminds of Hostel, deliberately so. Chalk this one blood-curdling moment as a homage to Texas Chainsaw. Soon after we're inside a car and an escort girl - who knows what it means to bare yourself for a show - is again addressing us, that it's a show we're watching, pure make-believe.
The rest is increasingly zany stuff. The slutty girl dressed in a cheerleader outfit opens up for 'cock'roaches, the shot is a vaginal shot from inside her larynx. The show turns into hand-to-hand combat, with the victim released from his clutches to beat his torturer black and blue. Elsewhere a bodyguard equipped with a shotgun has apparently run straight into an axe. Another one can apparently survive multiple stabbings just so he can die a more gruesome death moments later.
It's dumb, preposterous stuff, but to a degree at least designed to be so. You can tell they were going for satire here meant to take the p#ss of their own torture show but were really lazy and uninspired about it, after all the guy is only Sam Raimi's pal. You can imagine a grimacing Bruce Campbell with the lawnmower whizzing above his head in the finale.
The only way the original Hostel had any power, is if you took the show serious enough to be offended. The only way this can, is if you don't. And no, this doesn't mean it's okay to watch with your 8 year old brother.
How to go about this? First get a pal of Sam Raimi's to direct, who had done a pretty wacky slasher some 15 years ago about a maniac in a supermarket and knows that a tongue may be pushed so firmly in cheek it bleeds, then recast the whole thing from the dingy basements of Eastern Europe to the dazzle of Las Vegas as a show that we have paid to watch.
The idea is lifted right off the Wizard of Gore remake from '07, but remains a clever little way of addressing us from our position as viewers. We have come to watch, knowing what it's about. We can get up and leave anytime. But most of us are going to sit for the duration, enjoying or hedging our bets.
The first kill is suitably Hostel-ish. The cringe-worthy of inevitable, horrible violence that we are powerless to stop, what was dubbed 'torture porn' when the iron was still hot. It's the only kill that reminds of Hostel, deliberately so. Chalk this one blood-curdling moment as a homage to Texas Chainsaw. Soon after we're inside a car and an escort girl - who knows what it means to bare yourself for a show - is again addressing us, that it's a show we're watching, pure make-believe.
The rest is increasingly zany stuff. The slutty girl dressed in a cheerleader outfit opens up for 'cock'roaches, the shot is a vaginal shot from inside her larynx. The show turns into hand-to-hand combat, with the victim released from his clutches to beat his torturer black and blue. Elsewhere a bodyguard equipped with a shotgun has apparently run straight into an axe. Another one can apparently survive multiple stabbings just so he can die a more gruesome death moments later.
It's dumb, preposterous stuff, but to a degree at least designed to be so. You can tell they were going for satire here meant to take the p#ss of their own torture show but were really lazy and uninspired about it, after all the guy is only Sam Raimi's pal. You can imagine a grimacing Bruce Campbell with the lawnmower whizzing above his head in the finale.
The only way the original Hostel had any power, is if you took the show serious enough to be offended. The only way this can, is if you don't. And no, this doesn't mean it's okay to watch with your 8 year old brother.