When A Stranger Does Absolutely Nothing For 90 Wasted Minutes.
When A Stranger Calls
Normally, when confronted by one of the seemingly endless parade of horror movie remakes, I would join the similarly endless parade of people complaining about how the original film was so great, and remakes sucks, and Hollywood sucks, and Superman's boots had the wrong kind of tread in the new movie. But, this movie is so god-awful I don't even feel like wasting my time complaining about it. The original was fairly boring as well. Both films revolve around the terrifying phenomenon of scary phone calls, with all the horror that a ringing phone in a dark room can possibly muster, which is the same sort of terror I’m struck with when my alarm clock rings. The original film had one cool part, when the guy on the phone croaked True Anal Stories 23. In the remake, that line is delivered with all the menace of a Harry Potter book on tape, so in that respect the movie pales in comparison. In every other respect, I'm too bored to care. Essentially, this movie stars no one you know, and has a babysitter getting mildly annoying phone calls for 70 minutes, and then getting chased by a guy dressed like a garage mechanic for the last 15. Nothing happens in this movie. Nothing. The main character doesn't talk to anybody, doesn't interact with anybody, and doesn't do anything. The killer doesn't really kill anybody, and spends most of his time on the phone, like a 14-year-old girl between classes at high school. Let's see, what can we talk about. There must be some intellectual nourishment here, some bone to pick that will lead to a tangent amusing enough to keep me entertained while writing about it. Let's see... everyone in this movie is white, so that rules out about half my material. There are plenty of women, but picking on them is like playing chess with a retard: too easy and liable to make someone cry. I suppose I could go on a rant about lesbians, somehow, but I was saving a really good bit where I confused them with the Lebanese for an up-coming L Word review. There's nothing for me to structure this article around in this amorphous mess of a movie. It's like writing a review about a breeze, or a wine stain on a couch that looks like nothing. I suppose this review will have to take the form of the movie, a long build-up without structure that ends abruptly in disappointment.