I've never seen anything worse. Like Queen Tamara in 12 Chairs, this film, with the crackling, rumble and smoke from the fillet, soars to the top of the pedestal of the worst films I have ever seen.
810-th (not 1810-th, namely 810-th) year, in which the "Vikings" dressed in costumes (some of which forgot to cut tags) either from the store of carnival accessories, or from the catalogue of clothing BDSM, not noticing the telegraph poles visible in the background, running through the CUCK fields, spreading under the blue sky with inversion tracks of aircraft, the forests, in which through the gaps between the trunks of trees visible cars, etc.
God be with him, you can forgive both these flops of low-grade amateurism, and the blood of the consistency and color of cranberry fruit, but I can not forgive absolutely idiotic dialogue, the lack of plot and terrifying acting, for which even the most tolerant head of the kindergarten Yevgeny Ivanovich Troshkin would kill the performers of this indecency with a tray on the head.