This movie can't decide if it is a concert film, a stunt documentary, or a love story. Ultimately, it winds up being none of the above.
Choppy editing, wooden-like-a-tree acting, dreadful, repetitive and puerile songs;dialog that beggars description and magic tricks that are either interminable or transparent or both (i've seen better at a child's birthday party)--this is a perfect storm of a bad film. Perhaps it would be tolerable if watched under the influence of intoxicating substances, but any clear-headed viewer with the desire for a coherent story and interesting plot need not linger here.
What baffles me most of all is where the funding came from for such a project. Assuming there was a script prior to shooting, who would bankroll such a dreadful waste of celluloid? This is nothing more than a vanity project for Grant Page, the stuntman who takes up most of the um...plot isn't the word. Ah, i have it--Grant wastes most of the screen time. You watch this, you don't tell me you weren't warned.
Choppy editing, wooden-like-a-tree acting, dreadful, repetitive and puerile songs;dialog that beggars description and magic tricks that are either interminable or transparent or both (i've seen better at a child's birthday party)--this is a perfect storm of a bad film. Perhaps it would be tolerable if watched under the influence of intoxicating substances, but any clear-headed viewer with the desire for a coherent story and interesting plot need not linger here.
What baffles me most of all is where the funding came from for such a project. Assuming there was a script prior to shooting, who would bankroll such a dreadful waste of celluloid? This is nothing more than a vanity project for Grant Page, the stuntman who takes up most of the um...plot isn't the word. Ah, i have it--Grant wastes most of the screen time. You watch this, you don't tell me you weren't warned.