A friend of mine bought this film on DVD because he wanted to see Malcolm McDowell in it. After watching it, and consequently spending several weeks in therapy, he somehow convinced me to do the same.
You have to understand, this film is diabolical on almost every conceivable level. There is simply no redeeming feature to it. The script, premise, acting, direction, sets, costumes, stunts, score and special effects are all excruciatingly insufferable, but it doesn't even stop there.
It is the *only* film I can think of where I can stand up and say "Yes, even the props are awful." In that respect, I am referring to the typical example of a random DEA Officer - little more than an extra - who, for some unknown reason, brandishes a pistol that is so enormous, one would normally expect to find it on the deck of the Bismarck.
In this way, an inconceivable absurdity permeates every facet of this motion picture. The US Government would not be unreasonable to establish a special agency tasked with keeping James D.R. Hickox (director), Joseph Gunn (writer) and Angie Everhart (`actress') away from movie studios from now until the end of time.
Frankly, I would happily welcome a visit from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, rather than watch this film again. When compared to suffering The Gardener in all its nightmarish glory, passing a dozen kidney stones would be considered a joyous and uplifting experience.
You have to understand, this film is diabolical on almost every conceivable level. There is simply no redeeming feature to it. The script, premise, acting, direction, sets, costumes, stunts, score and special effects are all excruciatingly insufferable, but it doesn't even stop there.
It is the *only* film I can think of where I can stand up and say "Yes, even the props are awful." In that respect, I am referring to the typical example of a random DEA Officer - little more than an extra - who, for some unknown reason, brandishes a pistol that is so enormous, one would normally expect to find it on the deck of the Bismarck.
In this way, an inconceivable absurdity permeates every facet of this motion picture. The US Government would not be unreasonable to establish a special agency tasked with keeping James D.R. Hickox (director), Joseph Gunn (writer) and Angie Everhart (`actress') away from movie studios from now until the end of time.
Frankly, I would happily welcome a visit from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, rather than watch this film again. When compared to suffering The Gardener in all its nightmarish glory, passing a dozen kidney stones would be considered a joyous and uplifting experience.