Number 9  (by number of suicide attempts after viewing) Every once in a while, a movie is so bad that it’s just puzzling: how could it ever be made? Imagine a picture made so crappy that it would look like a project by a regional film school student. A dozen fast-paced, shoddy vintage filters give everything a cheap gloss, designed with zero focus on realism or plausibility, as if editing were the responsibility of the child who first opened Windows Movie Maker and started clicking on all the effects. The sound is completely unbalanced and terrible. Some lines are barely audible, while others, in the same scene, are repulsively loud. All of this is “Number 9,” a seemingly dramatic horror movie written and directed by a certain Thomas Walton. So little effort has been put into the project as a whole that it makes one wonder: if the film crew was so indifferent to the result, why should the viewer treat it differently?
Room 9 opens in 1979 when a black couple is about to celebrate their anniversary in the same room of a roadside hotel. To spill this action into unsatisfying porn prevents a strange double murder, ending with the frame “40 years later”. A series of sloppy and seemingly unrelated murders takes place in the city. From this moment begins a long timekeeping and even longer feeling the way of the film to its battered plot. Star (Scout Taylor-Compton from the polarly acclaimed remake of Halloween) comes to town to receive his inheritance as a piece of land. She stays overnight in an ill-fated hotel. There the girl begins a series of hallucinations, or memories associated with the terrible history of this place.
Until Taylor-Compton appears in the frame, like a stream in the middle of the desert, more than an hour has passed since the beginning of the film, and this could be called his death sentence if he was not dead at the writing stage of the script. During this hour, familiar fans of the genre Kane Hodder and Michael Berryman appear in the frame, who noticeably lacked neither the fee nor the quality of the production to at least try to portray interest in their roles. The latter seems to have been on the court for only one day. Probably, the editor did not forgive Berryman such impudence and made every effort to any appearance of the characteristic face of the actor in the frame caused the viewer to want to close his eyes and ears. Or vice versa, was completely delighted with the actor, and therefore the same take with him appears on the screen several times.
In the final act, "Number 9" stops with a grin to explain every detail with an awkward voiceover, accompanied by a melodramatic score. This seems particularly inappropriate given that it’s definitely not a movie that values any of its characters, so trying to turn it around and turn it into a completely different type of project is simply tiring. The finale makes no sense and is suitable only for the practice of rolling eyes. The ugly transitions between scenes, as if they were commercial breaks, made Number 9 even more unbearable. Save yourself from suffering - watch the paint dry or read this review about twenty more times, because even that would be a more productive waste of an hour and a half.