Tag Archives: tahnee welch

Night Train To Venice: The actual worst film ever made

People often ask me what the worst film I’ve ever seen is, and for years I found the question difficult due to the sheer volume of trash and cinematic pond scum out there. Then I saw Night Train To Venice, and… yup, it’s officially *the* worst fucking movie I’ve ever seen. The cover is innocuous enough, boasting a slightly esoteric Euro-trash thriller starring everyone’s favourite aloof British hunk Hugh Grant and everyone’s favourite British arch villain Malcolm McDowell. Sounds vaguely promising, right? Oh boy. Ohhh boy. The thing starts off with Grant, some chick (Tahnee Welch) and a handful of other weirdos boarding a night train somewhere in Europe, and then… I can’t even describe how strange, stupid and incoherent it gets. There’s Nazi skinheads that put off a rapey vibe but it’s never clear why they’re on the train or where they came from. McDowell is credited as ‘Stranger’ and all he does is loom ominously, spout threatening dialogue with zero context and add to the din with his wasted charisma. There’s loose plot threads flung around like confetti but none are developed, or even addressed beyond wanton scenes of fuckery that have no place anywhere. It sucks because this isn’t even fun to watch in a burning car wreck type way like a lot of fun bad movies, it *actually hurts* to watch this unpleasant piece of shit trip over itself and parade across the screen like a gaggle of spastics set loose from the asylum. McDowell has more than a few shitty flicks in his war record but this really takes the goddamn cake. If I ever get to sit opposite Grant, however, I’m going to bring this one up with a straight face and then slap him across his before that cavernous dumbo grin even starts to take shape and the trademark awkward sheepish excuses start to trundle out of his mouth. As for the director and rest of crew, lord only knows what was going through their heads when they produced and assembled this piss poor, jumbled up dose of cinematic diarrhea. It doesn’t even make sense or stand as an example of what not to do in the celluloid zeitgeist, it’s so bad. It exists in a vacuum of space all its own that functions off the kind of zero point energy reserved for things so shamelessly awful that it actually takes cohesive effort to gain admission. Please, please avoid this thing, it’ll literally shorten your life span having to sit through it and you’ll lose more brain cells than you did last Friday night. Ugh.

-Nate Hill

B Movie Glory: Johnny 2.0


It’s always fun to come across genuinely intelligent science fiction films, especially when you go into them expecting a half assed, clunky yawn, which happens frequently. Johnny 2.0 is an overlooked little cyber-punk gem in an unassuming release package, a thinking man’s sci-fi story that could have easily gone the other way, but contains enough inspired creativity to rise above the muck. Jeff Fahey plays Johnny Dalton, a genetic researcher whose facility is attacked by activists. Waking up from the disaster he is stunned to find that he’s not Johnny at all anymore, but a clone who has been in cryo for 25 years, awakened now for one purpose: set out across a post apocalyptic wasteland to retrieve the original Dalton and smoke out a web of conspiracies that have hatched over the years. There’s all sorts of really intriguing ideas at play here including MRI memory mapping, organic tracking suits, genetic reconfiguration and personalized holograms, a wealth of scientific world building that earns this film its stripes in the artistic departments. Fahey is excellent, as is a noble Michael Ironside, Tahnee Welch and John Neville. Super solid storytelling, ideas worth exploring, an impressive level of design and atmosphere achieved despite the limited funds, there’s not too much you can say about this one that is not the highest of praises. 

-Nate Hill