Generally, a second cousin's involvement in a film like this would have been career-ending a few decades ago. Now that schlocking for a paycheck is practiced from top to bottom of the industry, these things are just popping out like bear claws at the donut shop. If you make the mistake of watching this thing, your IQ will drop faster than if you dined on paint chips for a year. There is no continuity. The plot is the construct of an 8 year old. The murder as mr. toad cliché requires increasing amounts of stupidity to keep it going. By the end, it's so thick one imagines the writers and continuity guys are just hoping that we've all slipped off into a stupor, like the zombies in the film.
Review of Best Friends
