All of that alone would be plenty to qualify Zombie '90 for a big, healthy negative score, but we haven't even gotten to the soundtrack yet. In fact, it would require either absolute deafness or superhuman strength of will to ignore the audio portion of this movie, compared to which Mongolian throat-singing karaoke would be a soothing lullaby. As far as we can tell, basically all of the voice acting was done by one guy, whose vocal oeuvre spans the range from "hillbilly mumbling into his own jowls" to "that same hillbilly trying to do his worst Tracy Morgan impression".
The stars of the show are a pair of doctors who are as close to protagonists as we're going to get, one of whom sounds like a colossal nerd who would be given a mean swirly by the guys of Tri-Lambda, while the other sounds like a recording of a particularly racist minstrel show from the mid-1850s:
On the plus side, there's plenty of footage without any dialogue in Zombie '90. Unfortunately, that footage does have sound effects, many of which still count as voice acting since the same guy is obviously making those sounds using some combination of his mouth, his lunch, his butthole, and an empty styrofoam coffee cup. Did you know that zombies eating a human's intestines sounds just like a fat guy trying to drink slurried pork belly through a crazy straw? Or that cutting someone open with a scalpel really sounds like somebody making raspberry farting noises to drive their dog nuts? All of that pales in comparison to the instantly infamous makeout scene:
Intentionally bad or not, those aren't makeout sounds that anyone who has ever seen or quietly imagined two human beings kissing or making physical contact of any kind would ever be able to fabricate. Oh, and before you start to think that the whole soundtrack is just one dude beatboxing and making sickening noises with various body parts, there's also a "musical" score permeating the whole thing, which alternates between a harbor seal rolling around on a giant novelty plastic keyboard, and excerpts from the greatest hits compilation "Cinder Block in a Washing Machine, Volume 4".
If you're anything like us, you'd probably rather spend 70 minutes straight punching yourself in the brain with a bike chain wrapped around your fist than watching this. Whatever entertainment value there is to be squeezed from the gallons of fake blood and batshit circus of gibberish dubbing (which we still haven't decided whether to call dibberish or gubbing) and nightmarish lip-smacking expires pretty quickly, and then you're stuck with 60 more minutes of annoying sounds and pointless gore. Playing "count how many zombies can't keep a straight face" will only get you so far. This movie is the F-grade German zombie version of "Wizard People, Dear Reader", except instead of being funny, it isn't. Well okay, maybe it is, but not in any of the ways that it was intended. It fails to be intentionally bad so hard that it wraps around to unintentionally bad again, like a singularity of meta-ironic post-modern failure. It's like a Chinese finger trap for your brain. Fuck this movie.
|Music / Sound||-10|
One roommate's art-fueled movement goes terribly wrong.
Emma Stone was the most paranoid person I had ever met. In private she wore a full suit of medieval armor at all times, visor down.
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