VOCAL WORK BY
Christof Niederweiser, Rocco Martone, J.T. Petty, Jeanne Potter, Bill Zebub
WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY
NR (Definitely not for kids)
MVD Visuals (DVD)
It will be tempting to compare Dolla Morte to its more audience friendly distant cousin, Team America: World Police.
I know it's tempting. Don't.
Written and directed by Bill Zebub (get it?) and re-packaged by the folks at MVD Visuals for an all new and fancy DVD release, Dolla Morte is self-billed as "Demented. Disgusting. Dolls."
Zebub does on a $4,000 production budget what Parker/Stone weren't quite able to do with their millions of dollars - truly piss off everyone.
Self-proclaimed as a "masterpiece of lo-fi madness and satanic silliness," Dolla Morte does fulfill its promise of slaughtering sacred cows using pretty much all of America's favorite toys from childhood. The film spoofs, okay ravages, religion, government and war in such a way that none of the three can really lay claim to getting the worst of the treatment here. Zebub picks on all of them with equal enthusiasm and zest.
Additionally, Zebub tosses in ample amounts of sex, violence and humor but, and it must be stressed, it's all with dolls. Seriously.
Dolla Morte pits the President of the United States against Dracula in a battle to suck all the blood out of humanity, kill the pope AND crucify as many beautiful women as inhumanely as possible...all on orders from Hitler.
Have I mentioned that the film is offensive?
As the film is definitely low-budget, tech credits are modest and the entire thing is done in Full Screen only with a run time of 70 minutes. The vocal work is fine across the board, with the entire ensemble cast obviously on the same page as Bill Zebub and everything here goes completely over the top.
Undoubtedly not going to appeal to a mass audience, there definitely will be a niche' audience for this film and for those who wonder would have happened if Parker/Stone had really had some balls.
Here ya' go.
For information on ordering, Dolla Morte visit the MVD website.
© Written by Richard Propes
The Independent Critic