There are so many puns to play on the title of the spectacularly bad Valentine that I don't know where to begin. I will say this though; here is a movie that makes me long for the complexity of the Valentine cards we used to give out in elementary school. You know, the ones with Batman exclaiming "You're a super crime-fighting valentine!"
Valentine is a slasher movie without the slightest hint of irony, one of the few horror movies in recent years that ignores the influence of Scream. The villain is omniscient and nigh-invulnerable. The heroes are easily scared when people run around corners and grab them by the shoulders screaming "HeyIjustleftmycoatbehind!" The score is more overbearing than Norman Bates' mother.
The flimsy plot follows several childhood friends, now grown up and extremely curvaceous. Since the film gives them nothing else to do, they stand around and wait until a masked stalker kills them one by one. This stalker appears to be former nerd Jeremy Melton, who was constantly rejected by women and beaten by men in high school. With Valentine's Day approaching, the women begin receiving scary cards foretelling their doom. Melton seems like the obvious suspect. Only problem is, as numerous characters warns, in thirteen years Melton could have changed his appearance to look buff and handsome. So (insert terrified gasp here) everyone is a suspect!
Here's problem one. In order to have any sense of suspense while watching Valentine, you have to accept a reality in which a high school nerd is capable of becoming David Boreanaz. Nerds don't turn into Angel when they grown up, they turn into older, balder nerds. He's not a terrible actor, but the script, by no less than four writers, gives him and the rest of the cast nothing to do but scream and make out. Denise Richards (the bustiest actress in Hollywood never to star in Baywatch) is especially exploited; most shamefully in the blatant excuse to get her in a bathing suit just before a crucial suspense scene. Note to self: always bring a bathing suit to a Valentine's Day party. Just because it's February doesn't mean you might not feel like taking a little dip.
The slasher in Valentine dresses in head-to-toe black with a Cherub's mask. Here's problem number two. The filmmakers clearly thought this would be a disturbing image to have on the head of someone who's whacking people in the face with hot irons. Plain and simple, it's not. Instead, it just made me wonder how a guy with a mask that covers his entire face, including his eyes and ears, can move so stealthily without bumping his shins on chairs or tables. Then again, given the things the Cupid Killer does, maybe he can teleport and his eyes are on his hands.
Not only is the movie bad, it isn't even sure who the killer is; the final "twist" is more "Huh?" than "Hah!" When you're not scratching your head you're yawning, then groaning, then searching for the nearest exit. Do not watch this movie. Even if you're alone on Valentine's Day, find something, ANYTHING, else to do. You'll be glad you did.
Valentine is a slasher movie without the slightest hint of irony, one of the few horror movies in recent years that ignores the influence of Scream. The villain is omniscient and nigh-invulnerable. The heroes are easily scared when people run around corners and grab them by the shoulders screaming "HeyIjustleftmycoatbehind!" The score is more overbearing than Norman Bates' mother.
The flimsy plot follows several childhood friends, now grown up and extremely curvaceous. Since the film gives them nothing else to do, they stand around and wait until a masked stalker kills them one by one. This stalker appears to be former nerd Jeremy Melton, who was constantly rejected by women and beaten by men in high school. With Valentine's Day approaching, the women begin receiving scary cards foretelling their doom. Melton seems like the obvious suspect. Only problem is, as numerous characters warns, in thirteen years Melton could have changed his appearance to look buff and handsome. So (insert terrified gasp here) everyone is a suspect!
Here's problem one. In order to have any sense of suspense while watching Valentine, you have to accept a reality in which a high school nerd is capable of becoming David Boreanaz. Nerds don't turn into Angel when they grown up, they turn into older, balder nerds. He's not a terrible actor, but the script, by no less than four writers, gives him and the rest of the cast nothing to do but scream and make out. Denise Richards (the bustiest actress in Hollywood never to star in Baywatch) is especially exploited; most shamefully in the blatant excuse to get her in a bathing suit just before a crucial suspense scene. Note to self: always bring a bathing suit to a Valentine's Day party. Just because it's February doesn't mean you might not feel like taking a little dip.
The slasher in Valentine dresses in head-to-toe black with a Cherub's mask. Here's problem number two. The filmmakers clearly thought this would be a disturbing image to have on the head of someone who's whacking people in the face with hot irons. Plain and simple, it's not. Instead, it just made me wonder how a guy with a mask that covers his entire face, including his eyes and ears, can move so stealthily without bumping his shins on chairs or tables. Then again, given the things the Cupid Killer does, maybe he can teleport and his eyes are on his hands.
Not only is the movie bad, it isn't even sure who the killer is; the final "twist" is more "Huh?" than "Hah!" When you're not scratching your head you're yawning, then groaning, then searching for the nearest exit. Do not watch this movie. Even if you're alone on Valentine's Day, find something, ANYTHING, else to do. You'll be glad you did.