The Stunned

Oh, God! Make it stop! Less than twenty minutes into The Scorned, I wished I was the one who took a fire poker to the neck. I didn't have much hope for this horror flick written by a reality star, cast with reality stars, and directed by a guy who makes movies for Playboy. But this is far worse than I could've dreamed.

I hoped to write a coherent set of paragraphs about the movie, but there seems to be some kind of contagious degenerative brain disease going around. I think I contracted it from the film's writers. Here's my list of grievances:

1. I'm not sure what trailer home the wardrobe stylist raided to get clothes for the cast, but none of the mismatched rags are flattering. Head-to-toe orange spandex was never in.
2. Reichen can't act! It's as if he's never had a conversation before. But he's not alone. Same goes for Trishelle, Bob Guiney, Stephen, Jenna Lewis, Johnny, Tonya, Ethan, and Stacie J.
3. The only cast members who get a pass in this movie are Trish, Toni, and Jenna Morasca. Granted, Toni and Jenna have about three lines each, and Trish's character spends most of the movie in a coma.
4. Putting a sheet over Trish's head would have given a more ghostly effect than their low-budget, "I made my own movie on a Mac" crap.
5. Advice to Rob Cesternino: Shut up and listen to how real people talk, it'll make your dialogue more believable. And don't just listen to your drunk reality buddies. They don't count as real people.
6. I'm surprised they made this movie without hiring anyone to do sound. Why write crappy dialogue if you can't hear the actors deliver it?
7. Ladies, stop smoking. You sound 30 years older than you look. Which means you sound 70.
8. Also, ladies, stop taking your clothes off. You just look stupid and slutty, and Rob gets to see your boobies. Why do you think he wrote the movie in the first place?