The red envelope is there, on the desk. I stare at it for a very long time before I decide to pick up. The staring is metaphorical, not literal—I have stared at it for about two months now. I suspect that if I don’t force myself to rip open the envelope and consume its contents, I will find an email in my inbox talking to me about account suspension. No late fees, indeed.
Netflix, you are a dark and vengeful god. For what have I done to deserve Motocross Zombies from Hell? I’ve been good. I swear I have. This is for Godmonster of Indian Flats, isn’t it?!
So, these three people—two guys who look way too much like Robert Downey Jr. to be coincidence and some kind of slut—go out to a motorcycle race. Unfortunately, it seems as if one of them, Cody, has been cursed by the devil for a reason that is never really explained. The other motocross contestants are zombies, who store gory body parts in a canyon to scare the shit out of people, and who have a house next to a cemetery (in the middle of the desert) which may be a funeral home. Good thing that for some reason or another, Cody and his two friends brought along plenty of shotguns (with infinite ammo cheat codes, it seems) for the ride.
You’ll notice that there are a lot of holes up there—phrases are used like “never really explained” or “for some reason”. That’s because logical speaking, Motocross Zombies from Hell makes no damn sense. It’s not even like I was in a bad mood when watching it, and I was seeking pure entertainment. No, actually, I was in a remarkably good mood and I just wanted to watch a monster movie with my brother, James Tiberius Bezecny. (His middle name is not Tiberius.) Ultimately, though, we were left stumbling through the plot holes, and this time we did not discover a fantastic Manos: The Hands of Fate-esque kingdom of wonder and mystery, like we usually do. We just happened to fall through holes of plot brought on by shitty screenwriting.
Truthfully, the redeeming values of this movie are few and far between. The only one that I can consciously remember is that I enjoyed laughing at the pointless nonsense that we discovered from the lack of continuity. The gore is good enough where you don’t have to seek it for that. There’s no nudity, though I will confess the main girl is rather hot. The makeup is nonexistent—the zombies we do see look normal, and the others are wearing helmets. The voice of a guy we can assume is Satan as well as the setup for a sequel are equally hilarious, but still not worth a look. This movie is as barren as the desert it was shot in.
Now I’m starting to run out of similes. I should stop soon.
So, all in all, crap. The end. Don’t ever watch Motocross Zombies from Hell. It’s not the worst (okay, fine, I’ll spill it; the worst is Daniel the Wizard, which isn’t a horror movie) but it’s just bad. And that’s all I have to say. And sometimes, saying so little goes a long way.