September 6th, 2006

First Person Review: Silent Hill

Possible spoilers ahead. Though it’s hard to tell as the following review is written, badly, in the first person.

My adopted daughter sleep walks and screams “Silent Hill.” I don’t like it much. Chasing after her is a pain in the ass but it’d be wrong of me to return her. So I figure I’d take my little cherub on a road trip to a spokey ghost town I researched on the internet. A female cop with a lame Terminator look tried to bust my chops in transit but I left that bitch in the dust. Wouldn’t you know it, as I approached the ghost town fog sets in and I crashed my pretty SUV. Fuckin’ ghost towns.

When I woke up my adopted daughter was gone. I could have left it at that but I feel obliged to look for her. The ghost town sucks balls. It’s dark and these funky monsters try to kill me. Most of them move like epileptic slugs which makes it easy to avoid them. The Terminator babe shows up and cuffs me. She thinks I’m a pedophile. Bitch. She shoots a few holes in a monster. I run away because guns are dangerous. There’s this siren that blares at random intervals. When it does birds fly away, everything goes dark and you’re basically fucked unless you have a Zippo lighter, which I do. It never goes out, even if I run at full speed and its illuminating circumference is greater than the stadium lights at Fenway. The thing rocks. If I had bug spray I’d rule Silent Hill with an iron fist. As it is I’m cuffed and worried for my safety.

The lame Terminator bitch catches up with me. We become friends. She’s not so bad. Her haircut is a joke but I don’t mention it. A rather large monster with a gigantic cheese grater on its head almost kills us but it disappears. There were these flesh eating bugs too. They appeared to eject out of its ass. They also disappeared in a cloud of ashes. I was relieved. A crazy old witch keeps showing up. If she took a shower we’d probably trust her but because she looks like she’s lived in a garbage can her whole life we can only assume she’s a blood sucking vampire.

Eventually we make friends with this cute teenager. She’s well groomed and suburban. We like her and she throws rocks at the witches head. She introduces us to this fucking wacked out cult. Her reward for her kindness is that the Cheese Grater Monster rips her skin off her bones and eats her soul. I feel bad. She smelled like vanilla and puppies.

The cult are some serious fanatics and are as scarey as the Cheese Grater but we go along with their mind numbing ranting. They tell me I have to find the beast or something and I’ll probably die or be subjected to an eternity of agony and pain. I have my Zippo lighter so I tell them “bring it on mother fuckers.” I just want my daughter back. Did I mention she’s adopted? The Terminator bitch gets jumped by the cult while trying to save me. She had plenty of time to get in the elevator with me but I guess she’s one of those sado-masichistic types. It’d expalin the haircut.

Down in the cellar I meet my adopted daughter’s twin. She’s all fucked up. The cult intentionally burned her a ways back and she’s kinda pissed about it. Understandable. I’d be pissed too. So I make a deal with the twisted twin and we march to the church to deal a fatal blow to the cult.

Back at the church all hell breaks lose. The evil twin starts ripping apart the cult with barbed wire. I watch and stab a few loonies while they’re distracted. It’s a bloody mess. When everyone’s dead I get my daughter back, but not really cause she’s switched places with the evil twin and tricked me into thinking I’m leaving Silent Hill but I’m really still there. It’s like a bad acid trip you don’t realize you’re having which is fine cause I’m oblivious at this point and am happy to be home even though home is like some nether region between real and fantasy.

My husband is kinda bummed about the whole affair. He tried finding me and my daughter. She’s adopted you know. He even went to Silent Hill and made friends with a taciturn and spooky detective who wasn’t very helpful. I’d feel bad for him if I wasn’t mind fucked and a bit bummed that my movie ended up like the Ring with shades of poop. Oh well, at least I found my daughter. I love her even though she’s adopted and all. Maybe in the sequel I’ll get to ride a motorcycle like the bitchy cop. I bet my Zippo would stay lit at ninety miles an hour. I’d be like the Ghost Ridder with perky tits, minus the bad complexion.