So the sequel to the sequel starts…nowish.
The new one kicks off, you guessed it, exactly where the other leaves off.
Welcome, fucknuts, to Hatchet III
Apparently Marybeth didn’t do such a hot job blowing Victor Crowley’s fucking face off. But this time, rather than being a naive idiot, she enlists the actual police…which, surprisingly, doesn’t end well.
Let the blood and suffering commence while she figures out the mystery. I will say the writing has drastically improved…hard to believe that each sequel is better than its predecessor.
Need more reasons? Yes? How bout I fuck you with a cactus and you call me in the morning.
sorry uh….I’ve been drinking
QUOTAS DE LA NOCHE
Bacchus: FIST HIS FUCKIN FACE
Romulus: Oh…oh my
my fatass cat walks in to the room
Random chick: LET ME GET UP ON YOUR FATNESS
Bacchus: She’s got a wonderful frame
Romulus: And looks GREAT soaked in blood
Bacchus: Yeah…I can spot a predator homage from a mile off. This will end well.
SWAT captain shows up
Bacchus: THATS WHAT IT IS. WHY DOES THIS FUCKER HAVE NO EYEBROWS
Great fun, all around. I’d love to see more from this writer director combo. We suggest grabbing your favorite gallon of liquor, and settling in for a good old fashioned marathon, to the theme of Hatchet.
Categories: Thoroughly enjoyable