Legion of the Dead


Director: Paul Bales

Reviewed by Paghat the Ratgirl

Turd Alert

Legion of the Dead There are so very many great movies of both the artful & the exploitation varieties that are not available on DVD, so how does an ape's turd like Legion of the Dead (2005) end up in the marketplace?

There are so many directors who produced one or two wonderful low-budget horror films proving their talent, but who cannot raise the money to do their next film, so what kind of moron would give a blue-assed mandrill the funding to direct Legion of the Dead?

The non-highlight of this no-highlights catastrophe is Bruce Babylon 5 Boxleitner with a tiny supporting role, the saddest come-down in employability since Adam Batman West was reduced to playing the dads of young nobodies with way bigger roles than his in schlock horror like 1983's One Dark Night; aka, Mausoleum, which compared to Legion of the Dead was a great movie.

Marketed as "in the tradition of The Mummy," this turd isn't even good enough to qualify for "in the tradition of Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959)."

Legion of the DeadDown the road a piece from the shopping center some extraordinarily talentless actors are pretending to be egyptologists investigating a classical Egyptian tomb older than the ones in Egypt but looking as fresh & new as a movie set with the paint still wet.

One of the students reads a hieroglyphic incantation out loud inducing Queen Anita to return to life, which she does by taking off her fresh Ace bandages & revealing her fresh young body. Ooo, how scary is that. She then kills some people, momentarily befriends some valley girls, then arranges to have her legion of the dead brought back to life. The "legion" numbers six.

There follows a lot of standing around on the one cheap set & running outside in the yard, with a few poorly done gore FX, until the requisit hour & a half is filled, then Queen Anita gets the ancient life-giving ankh stuck in her neck & it kills her, the ancient ankh appearing to have been made from a piece of plywood spraypainted gold.

Some films this pathetic have a kind of sorry-ass pitiful charm, as though some wooly monkey trying to learn to smoke crack accidentally burned his face off making you go, "Ahhhh, poor thing." But this turd is so ripe I say set that monkey's face on fire, & please don't ever give Paul Bales a dime to make another film.

copyright by Paghat the Ratgirl

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