The Collection: Rated “R” (81 Minutes)
Starring: Christopher McDonald, Daniel Sharman, Lee Tergesen, Navi Rawat, Josh Stewart
Directed by: Marcus Dunstan
A psycho killer is on the loose in the city, indiscriminately killing anyone and everyone that he can slice and dice (and grind up into dog food and mash flat as street pizza) Yeah, this one is a truly gruesome spectacle of splatter-gore cinema. And no, that’s not a good thing. The film (which is a follow-up to 2009’s The Collector) is a soulless, mindless, storyless waste of 81 minutes of your life. The film opens with the masked ghoul from the previous film back at what he does best, setting elaborate Rube Goldberg contraptions that separate people’s body parts from their bodies. At the onset of this flick he quite literally kills an underground rave club chock full of red shirts whose only purpose is to die in a series of violent and blood ways.
No one is on screen long enough to get a sense of who that are or even care. They are just there to establish that this guy is a bloodthirsty thug. All of which begs the question if this was “real life” and such a mass killer was on the loose, the Mayor would have called in the National Guard to deal with him (seriously, we’re reasonably certain that less people died in both Expendables flicks). Still, this lunatic is on the loose and he manages to grab up a new victim, Elena (Rawat) even as Arkin (Stewart) who was kidnapped at the end of the last film manages to escape.
Needless to say, the “story” this time around is freeing Elena from the Collector’s clutches. As it turns out, Elena’s dad (Christopher McDonald) is filthy rich and he hires a team of Mercs to go get her back. The mercenaries get Arkin to lead them to his lair (an abandoned hotel he’s transformed into his own private maze of torture and death) and then coerce him to lead them through the gruesome labyrinth. Now, Arkin and the team of Mercs find themselves fighting for their lives in order to save Elena.
Again, even the Mercs (who get more screen time than the Ravers in scene one) don’t emote long enough for us to give a right, royal leap into Long Island Sound about them either. They, like everyone else, are just so many meat-sacks to be carved up in this interminable nightmare. This might have been a better film, but we simply couldn’t get past all of the time, effort, and money that the Collector must have put into assembling the numerous traps he set (and the dozens of victims he “collected” and still leave behind no clues as to his whereabouts. If this were a TV cop show, they would have found him in 45 minutes and put him down in 50. So, no, we were completely unable to buy the premise of this crap, and thus consign it to the dung heap of obscurity.
Robert J. Sodaro has been reviewing films for some 30 years. During that time, his movie reviews and articles have appeared in numerous print publications, as well as on the web.