This Week’s Worst Movie Ever: Hood of Horror


Every week, we find a new Worst Film Ever and deliver it to you as a public service. These films should be avoided at all costs, but if you absolutely have to see them, strap on your rosary beads and prepare to lose your faith in film! This week’s Worst Movie Ever is:

Snoop Dogg’s Hood of Horror (2006)

Synopsis: One movie with three non-linked vignettes featuring a young girl seeking revenge on a gang, a crew of black war veterans seeking revenge against a hick stereotype, and a rapper with a haunting past…that comes back for revenge.

Horror at its worst! I realize it would be far too easy to lambaste low-budget horror. It would also be foolish since low-budget horror has its own appeal, the sort of excitement that comes from seeing innovation, satisfyingly groan-worthy dialog, and pounds and pounds of red-dyed Caro syrup. So I come not to bury cheap horror, but I do come to dig a giant hole in a toxic waste dump to throw Hood of Horror into, hoping that it’s deep enough to reach Hell.

There’s no reason to take this movie seriously at all because it fails miserably as entertainment. So it should just be plain fun, right? Wrong. What’s more frustrating is that watching it with the expectations of a gore-a-thon, as comedy horror, or as a grotesque morality play – it all comes up short. As a gore-a-thon, there’s barely any blood. As a comedy horror, there’s not nearly enough over the top moments or funny lines. As a grotesque morality play, it’s confusing nature and obsession with revenge bogs it down. In fact, I have no idea if there is a certain set of expectations that would allow this movie to be anything more than a waste of time and brain cells. Basically, it seeks to incorporate a lot of elements from each of these sub-genres, but can’t get in the right amount to satisfy any of them.

I’ll admit that killing a dude with a 40oz Bottle through the head is a fantastic death, but if that’s the saving grace for the flick, then I might as well just be reviewing a Youtube clip. That moment: B+. This movie: Kill Me Now.

Acting at its worst! When you place Snoop Dogg at the centerpiece of a film – even if he is only in a few stolen-directly-from-the-Crypt-Keeper introductions – you know exactly what you’ll get in the acting department. Especially when those introductions feature Snoop’s waked and baked delivery complete with one of the most ridiculous-looking ghoul girls of all time (We get it, you have sharp fang teeth! No need to keep your mouth open every minute you’re on screen).

The actors they got for this thing have the magical ability of trying to deliver terrible dialog as if they’re either actual zombies attempting to emote or auditioning for King Lear. You get the idea that these actors were best friends of the gaffer or thought they were having their big break and needed to leave their blood out on the field for the talent scouts to recognize. Strangely, all they really needed to do was have fun with the material. Those that slept walk through, including Billy Dee Williams who was only there for a paycheck, drag the already boring stories down so much that people watching it will be envious of their friends who decided to stay home to do calculus homework instead of renting the movie. Those that attempt to have fun are up against too many awful outside elements to make a positive dent.

Ernie Hudson (yes, seriously) comes close to being decent, but even he is buried in the avalanche of words that somehow transformed from ink on a script page to pig excrement when the cameras started rolling.

Story at its worst! What’s baffling about this movie is that it’s utterly boring. It spends so much time trying to explain the scenarios and to explain the obvious that you’ll start wondering if you’re listening to the commentary track or watching the actual movie. Mindless gore isn’t difficult. Set up a few flat characters with a few decent one-liners and put them in situations that create a lot of opportunities for boobs to be exposed and random household objects to be used in ways not before imagined. Somehow, the filmmakers behind Hood of Horror missed the memo on that because I’ve already mentioned the only interesting/exciting death and, let’s take a deep breath before I say this, there is a severe lack of boobs. Watching the film hoping for blood and boobs will frustrate even the most mild-mannered to go on a killing rampage. If you do happen to do that, make sure to bring a camera, because the result would be far better than Hood of Horror.

A girl kills people with a magic spray paint can. Some old dudes get angry and violent. A ghost from rapping past comes back to haunt his former partner. Those sequences are presented with about as much enthusiasm as I’ve just written their blurbs.

The Worst of the Worst: Surprisingly, there isn’t one scene that stands out as terrible because the entire film is just that bad. Ironically, if a scene had stood out as being ridiculously bad, it probably would have crossed the line into so ridiculously bad that it’s good. Although, if I have to pick something (and I do because of the arbitrary structure for this feature), it would have to be almost any interaction between Tex Jr (Anson Mount) and the veterans that live in the house he’s just inherited. For a movie to blather on and on about racism being terrible, it’s shockingly awful that it uses the worst racial stereotype to drive home its points. Tex Jr’s lines never get any better than his name his. Neither does his accent.

Final Thoughts: I have no idea how a movie with such a promise could fail so terribly. Somehow, the filmmakers managed to take three ideas that would never have the steam to become full features and crammed them together into one, hoping that they could hold their own if they were only half an hour long each. They also hold back on the blood and guts that it makes you wonder what the point in making the movie in the first place was. The only decent explanation might be that they saw the film as a morality play, trying to teach a directly targeted group about ethics, but 1) that’s a disgustingly lofty goal for gore and 2) they spend so much time talking about revenge that the lessons don’t come clearly through. To borrow from our very own Coroner’s Report, there’s only one interesting death, the gore is decent but still not enough, there’s a severe lack of sex and nudity, and we’re beat over the head with revenge instead of being able to learn anything of importance. Basically, they’ve somehow managed to create the anti-cheap-horror genre. It’s the exact opposite of everything that horror should be.

A veteran of writing about movies for nearly a decade, Scott Beggs has been the Managing Editor of Film School Rejects since 2009. Despite speculation, he is not actually Walter Mathau's grandson. See? He can't even spell his name right.

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