Whilst searching for her missing husband Blake (Javier De la Vega), tough, pistol packing babe Clementine (Victoria Maurette) runs across a community of outcast whores who have fled the town of Amnesty after murdering the townsfolk, including its preacher (Andres Bagg) and his pregnant wife. These murderous women are also keen to lay their hands on Blake, for they believe him to be a rapist, but are unwilling to follow him into the deserted town, for this is where the spirit of the preacher patiently waits for revenge...
In my opinion, director Albert Pyun must suffer from severe Hollywooditis, a condition that causes untalented hacks to believe that they are actually successful Hollywood directors. The results are never pretty.
In this instance, poor Mr.Pyun is clearly under the delusion that he is Tony Scott, circa 2004, which explains why his low budget western/horror Left For Dead attempts to mimic Scott's dreadful, self-indulgent movie 'Man on Fire' so closely in style. Unfortunately for Pyun (and his audience), not only is he stricken with the urge to emulate one of Scott's most dire efforts, utilising all of the horrible visual trickery that made that movie such a chore to sit through (flickering imagery, desaturated colours, distressed filters, unnecessary freeze-frames, slow-motion, and even novelty subtitles for both Spanish and English dialogue), but the absence of a mega budget, A-list cast, and, more pointedly, any talent whatsoever behind the camera or in the editing room, makes this project an infinitely more painful viewing experience than anything Scott has ever dished up.
A lengthy prologue attempts to explain the back story to this steaming crap-fest, but is so poorly written that it does little to help viewers' understanding of the movie. The dreadful script, combined with equally awful acting and an over-reliance on absurd visual gimmickry, all go to make this one hell of a bad film which I genuinely believe deserves the lowest rating possible (others have rated this a 'one' to try and counteract the fake positive reviews, whereas I rate it that low simply because I genuinely hated it!).
Still, as much as I have suffered whilst watching this cack, I'm still able to spare a thought for poor old Pyun—if only his affliction had left him thinking he was Scorsese or Spielberg in their prime, things might have been different.
In my opinion, director Albert Pyun must suffer from severe Hollywooditis, a condition that causes untalented hacks to believe that they are actually successful Hollywood directors. The results are never pretty.
In this instance, poor Mr.Pyun is clearly under the delusion that he is Tony Scott, circa 2004, which explains why his low budget western/horror Left For Dead attempts to mimic Scott's dreadful, self-indulgent movie 'Man on Fire' so closely in style. Unfortunately for Pyun (and his audience), not only is he stricken with the urge to emulate one of Scott's most dire efforts, utilising all of the horrible visual trickery that made that movie such a chore to sit through (flickering imagery, desaturated colours, distressed filters, unnecessary freeze-frames, slow-motion, and even novelty subtitles for both Spanish and English dialogue), but the absence of a mega budget, A-list cast, and, more pointedly, any talent whatsoever behind the camera or in the editing room, makes this project an infinitely more painful viewing experience than anything Scott has ever dished up.
A lengthy prologue attempts to explain the back story to this steaming crap-fest, but is so poorly written that it does little to help viewers' understanding of the movie. The dreadful script, combined with equally awful acting and an over-reliance on absurd visual gimmickry, all go to make this one hell of a bad film which I genuinely believe deserves the lowest rating possible (others have rated this a 'one' to try and counteract the fake positive reviews, whereas I rate it that low simply because I genuinely hated it!).
Still, as much as I have suffered whilst watching this cack, I'm still able to spare a thought for poor old Pyun—if only his affliction had left him thinking he was Scorsese or Spielberg in their prime, things might have been different.