Oh thank god… This shit is finally over.
Coming into this month that I dubbed something like Resident Evil Sequels Month, I was really, really, very worried about how my mental health would survive this. See, here’s the thing… The first Resident Evil is very awkwardly bad early 00s action schlock with zombies and monsters. I had major issues with that, but I could live with it just being a shitty movie. 2004’s Resident Evil: Apocalypse took that and cranked it up to about a 35 on the shitty scale. It was laughably bad. It’s bad movie night bad.
But, to my surprise things kind of went a better direction. Resident Evil: Extinction brought in a new look and feel, and I liked the post-apocalyptic landscape. Resident Evil: Afterlife brought director Paul W.S. Anderson back into the director’s chair after writing the previous two entries, but it was a bit of a step down, but at least not terrible (at least better than the first two films), and Resident Evil: Retribution was a better mix of the action schlock with sci-fi schlock and horror schlock. The last three entries at least proved the series could be somewhat entertaining.
But here we are, at the end, with Resident Evil: The Final Chapter. Why am I bemoaning the time spent and thanking magical sky man that it’s all over? These movies are all really quite tiring. I want to move beyond them so badly because I’m so worn out by the insanity that is inflicted onto my eyeballs and brain. It’s like Stockholm Syndrome at some point. Do I really like some of these movies or has my brain simply adjusted to their crap factor and I’m just letting it happen to me. It’s got me in a sleeper hold and just whispering to me, “Let it happen… Shhhh… Let it happen.”
And, frankly, if that was Milla Jovovich doing that to me, I’d be okay with all that is happening.
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