In the summer of 2000, inspired completely by the movie “Clerks” and seduced by the allure of free movie rentals, I took a job at the closest video store to my house that was hiring. Yes, sir. Hollywood Video and I have had a long and storied non-relationship, mostly with me traveling from store to store, getting new memberships everywhere I go so I can put off paying my late fees for as long as humanly possible; when tagged to pay up or not rent, my goal is simply to pay as little as possible on the back rent by maximizing my front rent. I am not a proud man.
Our store only had one real set in stone policy. Generally, most video store employees are too apathetic and underpaid to really fight the average consumer about the dumb crap he (or usually she, since women have terrible taste, regardless of how good-tasting they might be) wants to watch. We really, really want to, and we will make fun of you behind your back after you’ve left, but we don’t normally care enough to pick a losing fight with an idiot or five. However, one movie, or should I say crime against humanity, was so terrible and worthless that we just could not let it walk out of the store without stopping and making sure that, yes, the renter knows what he/she’s getting into.
I don’t know why I’m pretending a woman would rent “Dracula 2000.” We all know your average woman isn’t going anywhere near a movie like that unless she’s renting it to watch with her supplier of all-natural protein mouthwash, so forget about PC charades. This is a flick for dudes. Dudes with no taste.
Every time a customer came to the front of the store with a copy of this movie, every person on staff tried their best to talk that moron out of throwing their money away. There were better movies that we’d recommend, usually “Snatch.” If they really wanted a vampire movie, we’d point them in the direction of John Malkovich and “Shadow of the Vampire,” or any one of a number of other vampire-based films. Just not that one. “Dracula 2000,” by our low standards, was unrentable.
So, because I hate myself and always have, I ended up leaving the store with the galley copy one night, so as to keep that rental off my permanent record. A friend and I thought we’d be up to the challenge of drinking our way through the movie. Should be a cakewalk, right? Two battle-hardened B-movie veterans. How foolish I really am.
Halfway through he’s ready to throw in the towel. So am I, but I will not lose to a Wes Craven Presents movie. Ron doesn’t play around like that. I tell him to keep it playing. I make him keep it playing. This is my “The Crucible” Giles-Corey-pressed-to-death-by-stones moment. I cheerfully ask for more weight, even as my companion’s girlfriend passes out from a combination of bad movie and Goldschlager.
To call this film abysmal is to malign abysses throughout the country. To say this film sucks is an offense to every other film that’s ever sucked. This movie, even with the 0 skulls it earned, somehow manages to be offensive even to Living Corpse’s rank of terrible bombs. To say this film really is that bad is an understatement, but…
It really is THAT bad. I watched it for free without anyone else knowing that I did, and I still felt dirty, cheated, raped, and ripped off. I wanted back money I didn’t spend. Unfortunately, the most precious wasted commodity, my time, shall never be recovered. Vitamin C’s tits are wasted on this movie.