Lasting a tad longer than Bill Richardson’s nomination for commerce secretary, “The Unborn” clocks in under 90 minutes. What we need are faster clocks. Time is not on your side with this loser.
It’s an oxymoron, a PG-13 horror film. It’s a horror of a film all right, but without the senseless violence, gratuitous nudity and graphic language that should properly populate such an endeavor.
There might be some actors in this film you might recognize, but no-one you’d care to. The best actors tell a story. This batch blabbed lullabies. If yawning were art, this pic drew Rembrandts.
Hey, any of you ever see a Jerusalem cricket? They’re in this movie for some reason. Found them occasionally in some of the parks that were my occasional abode. Big, honkin, gnarly looking things. Good eating too. Neither crickets, nor from Jerusalem, they’re nothing a pair of Doc Martens won’t cure.
I think there is a semi-original thought in “The Unborn.” This one’s about a Jewish exorcism. The bad guy looks like that little kid in “The Omen,” and when the special effects budget allows, a whole bunch of other things, none memorable. As this golem thingy becomes badder, its eyes become bluer. My eyes turn blue when writing this column, it’s so bad.
The little bad guy shows up in more places than zits on a prom queen. A bug-eyed, malevolent, needy twerp, if he were my kid, I’d definitely show him the sights in Nebraska.
Rabbi Chowderheadsteinowitz and a rambling assortment of faith-based clowns from Exorcisms R Us throw everything including the book at this ne’er-do-well. Try some chicken soup next time.
