Peables returns with her newest Netflix Nasty in 7 Below. It really looks shit from the screenshots already.
Here I am again, on a Sunday, wondering where the weekend has gone and why I’m not hungover. Instead, I’ve ordered take away again, so the diet’s going well. I’m sat in front of the TV, skipping through films on Netflix with my flatmate screaming ‘THAT LOOKS SHIT, LET’S WATCH THAT’ into my ear.
So it goes.
I select ‘7 Below’ because it’s about a group of strangers trapped in a house and has a number in the title. I’ve decided I’m totally into themes.
As we go through the title sequence I see the names of ‘Ving Rhames and Val Kilmer’ and I cannot wait for this shitstorm to start. HAHAHA his face is huge. Seriously, you forget how big it is until you see it graced onto your 50″ HD screen. A group of strangers on a tour bus get hurt in an accident, and Ving Rhames comes to help them out. They can’t go to the hospital because all of a sudden a storm is approaching, so they go to his house to get themselves together. Of course, phones don’t work either.
Val’s had a head injury and you know it’s serious if it can hurt his meteor face. He begins to get delusional, saying he’s seeing things and so on. A lot of things start happening that have no impact on my boredom, and I begin to drift into my chow mein. I start analysing the patterns and never-ending connections to the next ingredient, swirling eventually in my stomach and then I’m interrupted by my housemate saying, “what the fuck are we watching?” and I look up.
Val’s dead, already. It’s been 20 minutes and the guy on the front cover of all the artwork is dead. My heart sinks. How much money does he need? Maybe I’ll send him a letter to see how he’s doing.
People start dying and so the rest try to find out what’s going on. They do this without acting, they do this instead with shitting on all my senses. I’m not sure what those accents were or where they came from, but I did find myself beginning to question whether this film was actually intentionally genius and they are all in fact aliens dreaming about our planet.
Alas, the film continues to dance around the idea of horror and I continue to stare at my kitchen knife as possible freedom from this seemingly never ending pain. This film is worse than Nine Dead. People who have seen this will develop dark circles around their eyes, adopting cold stares. We recognise each other in the street. We lock eyes, we nod, we continue walking away; moving away from the one person who can trigger the memory of forgotten happiness, but we don’t want to. We want to forget. The pain in remembering will hurt more. This is all we have now.
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