Donkey: Everyone loves a surprise. Whether it’s winning a stack of Jacksons on Papa’s Mustache in the third race down at the track, or having all your friends pop out of the darkness and yell, “Surprise!” just as you, your dog, and a bottle of peanut butter are about to celebrate your birthday by entering a land of erotica shunned by the rest of the world, it’s the thrill of the unknown that makes life worth living. Of course, sometimes a surprise can be more like a kick in the head with cement galoshes. We thought we knew what we were getting into when it came to Asylum films. After all, we had already seen so much. Transmorphers had trilled us with with robots that transmorphed into unremarkable buildings and/or loose debris. Snakes On A Train had dazzled us with Mexican wizardry and breasts bared in palpable shame. Alien Vs Hunter had stunned us with a man in an old scuba suit running around the same tunnels for hours on end. Universal Soldiers had enchanted us with throats that never seemed to go hoarse, no matter that every word left their mouths in a blistering scream. We thought we knew it all, so we were eager to find anything Asylum related that we could get our hands on. And so we came to The Apocalypse. Little did we know that someone was about to turn on the lights and catch us with Skippy on our balls.

The Plot:

Donkey: We have seen movies with plots so simple that it would be reasonable to assume that they had stolen their scripts directly from the daydreams of houseplants, but nothing compares to The Apocalypse. Like many other movies that have come before it, The Apocalypse dares to ask what you would do with your time if you knew that an asteroid was about to end human existence. But rather than ask this question while Steven Tyler yowls like a cat in heat in the background, this movie adds a different caveat. What would you do if the world was going to end and you had to pander to all those people out there with a frighteningly obsessive relationship with Jesus?

You see, The Apocalypse is the first movie that was produced by The Asylum’s subcompany, Faith Films. And while it’s a given that Christianity is going to do to cinema what it has done to rock music – fuck it up so badly that even baby Jesus would cry – it becomes even more of a dark horse when The Asylum enters the picture. Can they really manage to make it that much worse? Hell yes. If you are still a Christian and happen to be looking for the inspiration to abandon your faith faster than an overflowing outhouse, look no further.

The Case for Greatness (aka The Lowlights):

Exhibit A: Welcome To Our Nightmare. Our Hilarious Nightmare.

Donkey: The Apocalypse begins with what, by any measure, has to be considered one of the greatest prologues ever to blow its stinging load of awesomeness into human eyes. It opens with two couples and what appears to be a roadie from Poison’s 1993 “We Still Suck” tour sitting around a campfire in the deep backcountry of California, sharing good wholesome laughs about how four of them are going to get laid tonight while a certain someone will be stuck singing Every Rose Has Its Thorns while jerking off into a tube sock. Already percolating in anticipation of the hot wool-on-balls action that is to come, the roadie gets up and goes to take a piss. As he’s standing in the trees with his junk in his hand, he looks up to see something in the sky, descending at an alarming rate. Suddenly, our roadie friend is smoked in the chest by a goddamn meteor.

Back at the campfire, which one has to imagine is no more than twenty feet away at most, one of the women asks, “Did you guys hear that?” But rather than giving her a good shake for asking something so obvious and retarded that it’s akin to asking someone engulfed in flames, “Hey, does that hurt?”, her boyfriend simply says, “I didn’t hear anything.” Really, champ? Because that, of course, is quite insane. Forget hearing; if a meteor hit the Earth twenty feet away from you, you’d feel it. One couple gets up to investigate, gives up after seven seconds, and turns back to the others just in time to see that same boyfriend gets smoked in the head by another goddamn meteor.

Almost immediately his girlfriend is knocked to the ground where she stares up and screams what we can assume is her meteor-flavored imminent demise, which is implied as we don’t actually see her die. But as sweet as that is, we all know that real disasters come in threes and they certainly saved the best for last. As the last couple flees for their lives, the remaining boyfriend suddenly screams like a little girl and jumps off frame. It then cuts to a shot showing him diving into a random puddle of molten lava like he’s in an Olympic diving competition, where he is of course immediately disintegrated.

He didn’t fall or stumble in. He fucking DOVE in. So either this asshole thought he had come face to face with the entrance to Candy Mountain, or he just wanted to be out of this Asylum film as quickly and hilariously as possible. Regardless, the remaining woman continues to run as the scene comes to a close. Our laughter, however, wouldn’t stop for at least ten more minutes.

With that unparalleled example of arbitrary lunacy out of the way, the movie’s main and significantly less comedic story arch now begins. A scene opens to a cabin elsewhere in a Californian forest as a park ranger named Jason gets a call telling him that he has to come down to the station. He arrives there a few minutes later to discover that half of the station has been destroyed by a meteor. And of course, as this is an Asylum film, ‘destroyed’ in this case actually means ‘digitally altered using horrific CG images of rubble and fire to make it appear destroyed’. As Jason and his colleague, Don, stand staring in the understandable confusion that all of us would go through when faced with terrible, terrible special effects, they wonder if they should blame the destruction on an earthquake, a lightning strike, or Mexicans. But their mental crippling is interrupted as another meteor tears across the sky and smashes into the nearby city of Monteray, causing a nuclear-sized explosion. Jason and Don stand there relatively unimpressed, not some much as flinching, like they somehow didn’t notice the goddamn nuclear blast that just took place a short distance away. They remain completely unconcerned until they drive a short ways and see that Monteray is completely destroyed. Oh, THAT’S what that was…

The movie then introduces us to the next players in this tableau of shame, as we turn to Hollywood and meet Jason’s daughter Lindsay, played by the blonde military chick from Universal Soldiers. She’s in bed with her boyfriend, Andrew, where they’re engaged in a duo of mortal sins in tickling and cuddling. As they explore the unbridled lust of seven-year-olds, one of Lindsay’s roommates bursts into the room, telling them to come watch the news and see the destruction caused by the meteor in Monteray. As she watches the story on a TV in their living room, Lindsay begins freaking out about her mom, who is apparently near the blast zone. Just then she gets a call from her mother and begins a conversation that is in no way completely fucking insane. The fourth sentence of the conversation is, “I know, it’s His plan….no, I’m not afraid.” Her mother tells her to stay there, that she’s on her way. With that bit of reassurance Lindsay, Andrew, and her roommates are free to just sit around and have an exceptionally shallow and pointless conversation about death and, in turn, how all those people are better off because they’re with God in a better place. All the forced religious dialogue is shoehorned into the scene so pathetically that it honestly wouldn’t have been any more stupid for them to have engaged in a conversation about how extreme and in your face Mountain Dew is.

The movie turns back to Jason’s cabin where he and Don are joined by Jason’s ex-wife, Ashley, who gives them horrible news. Another meteor coming, and while the first one was only the size of a small home, this other meteor’s roughly the size of Texas. It should arrive within four days to cause what is widely acknowledged to be complete human extinction. So the question has now become, “if you knew the we all had only four days to live, what would you do?” Not wanting to admit to the massive four day orgy that just sprung to mind, Don instead says that he has to go see his brother before all is said and done and bolts out the front door to go find his Astroglide and assless chaps. Jason tries to cockblock, insisting that Don should come with them instead as he chases Don outside, only to discover that he has vanished. Jason and Ashley look around the front of the cabin to see where he could have possibly gone, and we are once again treated to the sensory delights of the Asylum’s production values. As the two speak to one another, their voices are drowned out completely by the wind. Not a strong, gale-force wind, mind you. Just a regular breeze. I’m not sure what either of them says, so instead I’ll just guess that the scene ends with, “I sure hope Don doesn’t strangle too many hookers on the way to that clusterfuck and steal all my fun.”

With our main character introduced, the movie breaks off and follows two separate paths at this point, both of which are equally uninteresting and poorly regaled. Rather than switch back and forth between the two plot lines like the movie does in a transparent attempt to make each of them appear to have more depth than they actually do, we’ll sift through these turd piles one at a time to show how little substance is actually in them.

Exhibit B: Self-Righteous Irrelevance Takes A Road Trip.

We’ll start our recounting with the parents and the tale of the their long trek to find Lindsay in LA. Their first obstacle, apart from lacking any interesting or redeemable qualities that would make the characters sympathetic or identifiable in the slightest, is unnecessary and poorly created tension in the form of a landslide that comes roaring down behind them as they drive away from Jason’s cabin. And once again, remember that this is an Asylum film, so in this case the landslide consists of absolutely nothing. Some street lights blink out to make it seem like they’ve been enveloped in the blackness of the slide, but since this scene takes place in the pitch black dead of night, that means that they’re adding blackness to blackness. This is shown pretty blatantly as they race away in their truck and Jason yells to Ashley, asking if she can see if it’s still behind them. She says yes as the camera cuts to a shot looking back behind the truck where we see NOTHING. But eventually, once they’re sick of playing their little pretend game, they somehow determine that they’re no longer being chased by invisible nothingness and slow down to a leisurely pace.

They’re still driving the next morning as Jason says something about hoping there’s some kind of contingency plan in place, to which Ashley replies that there’s always salvation. Yeah, I sure hope that if any looming natural disasters are facing us as a species, like a giant meteor, our world leaders don’t try to actually solve the problem by sending Bruce Willis and a team of crusty oil rig jockeys to pull an Armageddon or something even remotely useful, but instead just tell me to ante up and pay the cover charge with Mr. Jesus so that I can get past the velvet ropes in the sky. But rather than stopping with that stupidity, Ashley keeps talking and moves on to how Jason’s put it off long enough, but it’s time to face the death of their son and seek salvation. I’d love to say more about the minutes of dialogue that proceeds from that point, as they appear to be trying to make the scene appear quite dramatic, but you can’t hear a goddamn thing over the ambient noise of the background. Obviously whoever was doing the audio thought that the best place for the mic was in the truck’s goddamn muffler. Moments later they come to a van on the side of the road and a man who looks suspiciously like he’s using that van to lure children into a very sore world of rectal pain using delicious candy as bait. They stop and discover that it’s another Asylum film regular, the dude who played the doctor in Transmorphers. He’s frantically searching for his nephew who literally disappeared out of the back of the van while he was driving. A single middle-aged dude frantically looking for a child with whom he is loosely affiliated at best who managed to escape from the back of his van? Oh yeah, that sounds totally legit. Sign me up. But before Jason and Ashley can put the pieces together, the doctor suddenly disappears himself. What could this mean? Could it be an alien abduction? Divine intervention? Or simply that the dude stepped off camera during a cut?

The parents continue driving, passing a bunch of cars that have been abandoned in the middle of the road. As the truck weaves between them, the act of turning makes is sound like the truck’s front axle is also acting as a goddamn rock tumbler. Figuring that’s quite enough of an attack on our intelligence, the scene ends there and the movie soon returns to the parents as the weather begins to change. It transitions from ash falling to the ground like snow, to rain, and then to hail. And of course, an Asylum movie is to the weather what it is to everything else, so creating the ‘hail’ in this scene consists of someone off camera throwing handfuls of pellets at the truck. During this intensely fake weather attack, Jason and Ashely once again continue to argue about something, but you can’t hear goddamn thing over the sound of the hail. At the end of what might as well have been a pantomimed discussion, Jason and Ashley look out of their windows and see that the weather continues to change in very poorly animated ways, as what is supposed to be a tornado begins forming off the coastline that the truck is now somehow magically overlooking. Showing a surprising amount of basic intelligence, they decide to take off rather than to wait around and see if the twister will deliver them to Captain Christ and his Infinite Shellfish Buffet.

As they continue their journey at the pace of a leisurely Sunday drive, Ashley decides to continue with her sermon, recounting a tale of how their son Robbie had a meningitis scare as an infant. She was so terrified at the time that Jason had to take her aside and tell her not to worry, that God had a plan. A painful, terrible plan. Jason steels his gaze at the story’s telling, declaring that he was wrong. Ashley says no, he was right. And that’s it. That’s the scene. Wow, what a great fucking story. That showed all the human emotion and religious insight of a half eaten stack of soggy flapjacks. We catch up with them again later as they realize that they’re lost. Or at least I think that’s what they’re saying, since I still can’t hear a fucking thing as they examine their map, other than the sound of what I’m starting to believe is my life being wasted away before my very eyes. And once again the scene closes on that. Fuck, another brilliant moment.

Our tale returns to the parents shortly, as they come across a dude laying the middle of the road. They stop and get out to investigate, only to find that it’s our favorite Asylum actor, playing a character we’ll call Bald Spice, or BS for short. As Jason approaches his prone body to see if he’s dead, BS sits up suddenly and pulls a gun. He says he’s not a bad man, but he needs their truck to get out of here. I think he’s saying something about needing to see his wife again, but all dialogue in this scene is once again relegated to a lower audio priority than nearby crickets and the sound of air. Eventually Jason says what I believe is something along the lines of not being willing to give up his truck, but that he’s willing take BS with them. More inaudible dialogue is thrown out with dramatic emphasis, in which BS says something about liars. I think he’s talking about the ‘no late fees’ policy at Blockbuster Video, because at this point I’d rather make up my own story than bother to follow theirs. Apparently he’s not a fan of riding in the back seat, though, as suddenly BS yells, “Why has God forsaken me?”, stumbles into nearby trees, and shoots himself in the head. Or at least we presume that he did, since we didn’t actually see him do it. For all we know, he could have shot up into the sky at his trecherous god and then started silently dancing the Boot Scoot Boogie. But while Jason and Ashley cope with the loss of the potential Chinese-finger-trap-style threesome that they were hoping to talk their way into, a sudden earthquake hits, causing the road to split and their truck to fall into a resulting crevasse.

The parents continue their journey on foot, arguing about their dead son Robbie. Once again Ashley continues to exclaim that  he needs to find God. As her very tiresome self-righteous speech momentarily ends, they come to a lake which gives them pause, as I believe it’s supposed to have had its water replaced with blood and have dead fish floating in it. But of course, the Asylum created this effect by simply filming a lake that looks like it has garbage floating in it. Close enough, right? The movie cuts away and then returns to the parents in another scene where Ashley demands that Jason pray with her. The water is blood, the sky is burning; it’s clear that The Almighty is having his period. But regardless, she says that her faith needs to be stronger and so does his, so that they can all be together in the afterlife. And then that scene ends. FUCK. Is this even a movie? Because at this point it just seems like a test to see how much ridiculous shit Christians will put up with so long as they are treated to an unmotivated reference to Jesus every five minutes.

As their journey continues, along with our pain in witnessing it, the parents arrive at random airplane hangar where they find a woman with a rifle and her young daughter. After a few moments which are supposed to be tense, but instead act as just another verse in the lullaby that is this movie as it sings you into a coma, the woman and daughter agree to allow Jason and Ashley to stay without first testing the velocity of buckshot with their faces. As the four of them sit around and listen to a radio, the daughter reveals that they still have wireless Internet. And apparently someone out there is still blogging, because moments later when Jason and the little girl are on the computer, they find news about the asteroid that’s coming to kill them all. And while Jason and the girl hack the Gibson, the woman tells Ashley that they’re alone because her boyfriend suddenly disappeared. Ashley asks if he was a man of God. And wouldn’t you know it, he was. The woman explains that she wanted more people of high moral stature around her daughter, so she she got online and found this dude in a Christian chat room. Are you fucking kidding me? You wanted to avoid freaks, so you went online? But Ashley assures the woman that her boyfriend is with God now, because it’s the End of Days. While all this is going on, the young girl decides to give Jason the keys to a plane, which he and Ashley hop into moments later, leaving the mother and daughter behind to face their fate alone. Because that’s the Christian thing to do, folks.

As their journey takes to the skies, the parents look down to see a tsunami hitting the west coast. It should go without saying at this point that this latest disaster, like all others before it, looks like complete ass. The movie cuts away and eventually returns to them, where this time the dialogue loses audio priority to the musical score, which makes sense. I guess hearing the third chair obo player for the Sacramento Carpet Layer and Food Buggerer’s Orchestra is more important than anything else. If you strain hard enough, you’ll be able to make out Ashley saying that she’s only worried that Lindsay won’t ask for God’s forgiveness in time. But as long as she does, everything else will work itself out. Apparently even the magic man in the sky found this idea to be as incomprehensibly and offensively idiotic as I did, as suddenly a bunch of meteors begin to rain down around the plane. Jason uses his finely tuned piloting skills to do absolutely nothing, as the scene ends with a flaming ball of poetic justice smashing through a wing and the plane beginning to descend back to the Earth.

The next time we see the parents, they are inexplicably walking away from the horrible burning wreckage that their plane now consists of without so much as a scratch. To add insult to a blatant kick in the balls, Ashley decides it’s time to treat us all to another story. This time it’s about how the priest at Robbie’s funeral gave her shit for not doing enough to save him, as Robbie was never baptized. As a result of his cruelty, she hasn’t been back to church in years. To really add the exclamation point on how much of a fucking idiot she is, Ashley says that she doesn’t forgive the priest, but she understands him, as he was just trying to save souls and that’s what she’s trying to do now. She surmises that because of what she describes as her casual approach to religion, as apparently this woman rates any view that’s not so fundamentalist that it involves strapping yourself to a metric ton of dynamite and running at an abortion clinic as “casual”, she’s not being raptured away like everyone else around them is. And once again, the Flying Spaghetti Monster must agree with my exasperation at this display, as moments later lightning strikes twice within five feet of the couple as they flee from the well deserved smiting. But finally their journey comes to an end as they approach LA.

Exhibit C: Are You There, God? It’s Me, Lindsay. Oh, And My Secular Pussy Of A Boyfriend.

While those events were playing out for her parents, Lindsay ventures through a even simpler and far more pointless odyssey. We first catch up with her as she and Andrew show up at the church that she frequents. The couple sit in a pew and Lindsay reassures him that she’s not trying to convert him, but that she thought coming here to chill would be relaxing, or at least it would be for her. Wow, now that’s considerate. Andrew makes an offhanded quip about how, “this is a little strange, especially after…last night.” That’s right kids, he’s talking about the dirty, dirty sex. You see, you can’t be a decent religious person if you have premarital sex, even if you are of legal consenting age and in a loving, committed relationship. And apparently piercings and tattoos don’t cut it either, as Andrew points those out as well all to make the case that Lindsay’s a terrible person. Then somehow the conversation ends up turning around, with him arguing that she obviously believes in God while she plays it cool, like she just comes to the church for free pizza and geriatric bingo. That’s the end of that scene, and I’m sure glad that I watched it, because I learned absolutely nothing. As a matter of fact, I’ve completely forgotten where I live.

We return to see the young couple the next morning, back at Lindsay’s house where she sits up in bed after another night of dirty anal sex with Andrew. She hears a noise and Andrew tells her that everything will be alright. And once again we fade to black with the end of another scene. WHAT?! That’s a scene? How was that even in the goddamn script? What was the point of that?

Next we see Lindsay later on that day, pleading to go out while Andrew puts his foot down and says they’re not going anywhere. As this argument, which seems like it has been time warped in from 1954, continues, the phone rings. Lindsay answers it, only to realize that it’s a call from…no one. DRAMATIC! And that’s it. Time to end another scene. Again, what a poignant look into the human condition. I’ve seen shampoo commercials deeper than this fucking movie. As the movie returns to Lindsay later, she is still hanging out in her living room, watching the news with one of her roommates. The camera tightens its shot on Lindsay for no apparent reason, then pans back out to show the roommate has suddenly either disappeared or just wandered off camera to grab an RC Cola. Lindsay steps out her front door, just to confirm that her roommate did not, in fact, find some miraculous way to defy physics and dive out of the house without her noticing. And that’s it. End of scene. FUCK. This is really testing my goddamn patience. And let me remind you all, I’m no goddamn rookie when it comes to ‘Asylum-boring’.

The movie picks up again as Lindsay is joined by Andrew in the front yard and they look up to see a twister coming towards them, tearing apart anything in its path. As the two of them flee back inside the house, they run into one of Lindsay’s other roommates who doesn’t believe them when they tell her of the impending danger. Apparently she’s been hanging out in a fucking sensory deprivation tank. She runs out front and sees for herself that yes, there is in fact a tornado about a hundred yards from their front door. What was the goddamn point of that? We’ve already seen the twister, so it’s not like the movie needed an idiot to give it an excuse to prove that it was there. So is the movie seriously trying to suggest that she couldn’t hear that? Regardless, they all run back inside a take cover. The roommate ends up hiding underneath their stairs while Lindsay and Andrew take cover in their tub. But it’s all for naught as everyone but Lindsay is sucked away to their doom as the tornado rips through the house. As that scene ends and a new one begins soon after, we see Lindsay stumbling around through wreckage that used to be her neighborhood. Eventually and rather conveniently, she finds Andrew nearby, trapped underneath shit. So not only did he not fly very far after being picked up by a goddamn tornado, but he seems to have landed in an assload of debris without receiving the mandatory complete internal organ makeover. AWESOME.

The next series of scenes in this harrowing, awful tale revolves around Lindsay trying to comfort Andrew as he succumbs to the mortal wound of a not very hurt leg and cries like a schoolgirl, ensuring that even if he were to miraculously survive what should not be fatal wounds, she wouldn’t possibly respect him enough to touch his little boy bits ever again.

Lindsay starts by bringing him a drink, as Andrew gulps at the empty can like a child actor auditioning for his first Kool Aid commercial. They talk about how no one is coming to help and Andrew begins mumbling something that we CAN’T FUCKING HEAR. This just never gets old. Once again dialogue loses out, this time to an unseen helicopter which Lindsay tries unsuccessfully to flag down for help moments later. Of course, an Asylum film doesn’t have the budget for a screenplay, let alone a helicopter so we don’t actually see one. But we still hear it, even as the first scene ends a new one begins, and it still sounds like it’s hovering about six feet above their heads. To fill the time before his life is finally extinguished by the minor scratches on his leg, Andrew continues to babble on, asking what happens if he dies without finding God, saying, “So this is it? I just die?”, and saying he’d believe if Lindsay would just say something. Lindsay asks if Andrew wants Jesus to do something fantastic like raise the dead, or turn water into wine, because He did that already and Andrew still doesn’t believe. Oh snap, son! That might just be the greatest theological argument slapped down since, “well what if you’re wrong?” Just then some Random Arab Dude, whom we’ll awesomely call RAD, wanders up, shaming Andrew into silence. RAD tells them that this kind of devastation is everywhere, but even worse than that is the quiet. It seems like everyone is disappearing. With his pride quickly going out the window, Andrew once again starts to cry like a newborn. Lindsay and RAD move all the way down to the bottom of Andrew’s legs and then start talking about Andrew’s chances of survival. Let’s say that once again just to be clear. They didn’t get up and walk a city block away. They’re literally at his feet, talking like he can’t hear them. And as they carry out this highly covert briefing, Andrew starts gasping for air, then suddenly he starts repeating, “I believe” over and over. Just then Lindsay and Captain RAD turn their heads slightly to discover that Andrew’s gone. Fuck, how did they not notice him disappear? They were crouching at his feet, for god’s sake.

The movie eventually comes back to Lindsay again, as she and Professor RAD begin to argue about what to do next. They’re interrupted by a tremendous roar and we see a badly created CG tsunami wave washing over the Staples Center, followed by a shot of downtown LA completely submerged in water. As the movie turns back to Lindsay and First Mate RAD standing there, unaffected by the catastrophic events around them, they have a shallow conversation about their families before The Duke of RAD tells a crazy non-Christian religious story which has no discernible point. If nothing else, it’s terribly nice of this movie to at least highlight the fact that Christianity hasn’t captured the market on useless drivel. But once again the argument resumes, as the Lord of RAD insists once again that they should be heading to a shelter. But even as he prepares to leave, Lindsay declares that she can’t. She has to find Andrew and wait for her mom to arrive. Soon she finds herself standing alone in a pile of rubble, which is pretty much exactly like the experience of actually watching an Asylum film.

Exhibit D: A Pointless End To A Meaningless Journey…In TECHNICOLOR.

With all of our characters now in the city and their individual stories told, our stories once again converges. Still searching for Lindsay, the parents end up wandering into the church where Lindsay and Andrew had been earlier. They look around and discover that they’re daughter is obviously not there, but before they leave to resume their search, Ashley stops at the large crucifix hanging at the pulpit. And just to bookend the movie, a death as startlingly hilarious as those in the opening of the movie takes place. As they stand in prayer, lightning somehow manages to strike inside the building and hit the cross directly. But it gets even fucking crazier: the cross then explodes and a huge chunk hits Ashley, instantly crushing her. Jason kneels down to comfort her as she dies in one of the funniest  and most ironic ways ever seen on film. As she looks up at him, Jason’s bathed in light. Ashley tells him not to worry about her, to find their daughter and let her see his heart. They tearfully tell one another that they love each other before she finally disappears. That might have been touching if it weren’t one of the most goddamn ridiculous things I’ve ever seen.

With very little left to do, Jason walks outside into the rain. He strolls through three different shots, and even though it’s pouring rain in every one of them, he’s only slightly wet. After a few minutes, he finally finds Lindsay, and at that point he’s miraculously bone dry. They have a tearful reunion and a conversation that’s once again drowned out by the musical score. As they embrace one last time, they turn and see that the asteroid is about to strike. And at the point, the credits begin to roll and the movie ends. So just to be clear, these two weren’t save. I’m not sure what commentary that’s trying to make, but I’m pretty sure it’s one that would still be considered ridiculous if you muttered it out through a mouthful of crackers after getting kicked straight in the vagina.

The Verdict:

Donkey: While it could only be described as an insult to anything with a pulse, The Apocalypse does feature two of the greatest things ever to be witnessed in cinema. First, the opening scene is as without equal in hilarity as it is without reason for existing in the first place. It clearly doesn’t fit this movie in any way imaginable, but stands out as its greatest strength by far. Second, the audio quality of the film shines as one of the true crown jewels of The Asylum production company. While it is certainly a signature aspect of all of their early films, this is the one movie that features absolutely no action scenes, no explosions, no loud sound effects, or any other possible excuse that could be made for it’s blatant shittiness. It’s like they recorded this entire movie in a fucking wind tunnel and are making no apologies for it. However, those are the only two possible points of acclaim, as the rest of the movie is boring, self-righteous bullshit. Stil, that prologue is badass. I give his movie three meteor strikes to the face out of five sermons from a trashpile.

What We Learned:

Donkey: If there’s anyone that can make me believe in Christianity less than Jerry Fallwell, Pat Robertson, and Kirk Cameron all rolled into one ball of fucking crazy, it’s the Asylum. I should have never doubted them. My hat is off.

Don’t forget to check back every Thursday for a new, fresh review! Next week we will unfortunately be forced to take a break to regain our strength and intestinal fortitude, but check back later when a fully renewed shittymovienight.com presents: Possibly the greatest tragedy to ever hit the film and music industries simultaneously in the form of a dancing abyss of shame…COOL AS ICE.

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