Blood Story is largely told from the perspective of writer Madison Sheffield (Mindy Robinson), who has arrived with two other guests at the villa of the mysterious Francis (Camden Toy). Francis tells them tales of the Fountain of Youth, and of the legend of Elizabeth Bathory. Madison takes part in a weekend of debauchery that culminates in her bathing in blood. Once back in the real world, she can’t quite get the experience out of her mind. She reconnects with one of the other guests, Carter (Mark Hanson), and makes a plan to return to the villa and uncover its secrets.
One could describe what actually happens in this movie, but it won’t add up to a whole lot. It is much more economical to simply state outright that this is a very bad movie. The only reason anyone should see it is if that person is specifically looking for a bad movie experience. Because for fans of ironic bad movie watching, Blood Story has all the earmarks of a so-bad-it’s-good kind of deal. Except the word good probably shouldn’t be in such close proximity to this piece of work, even in that context.
The movie reveals its lack of quality within the first few minutes. Between its overlong, overblown credits and the clunky opening spiel, the movie quickly establishes that a noticeable lack of craft. And then it places its focus directly on the main character, who is ostensibly a writer looking for something to write about. Most of this story is told from her perspective, the things that she’s writing providing running narration for the entire movie. We are told that she is a talented writer, but nothing in that narration would stand as evidence of this fact.
And from there, it’s tough to tell what the film is supposed to be. It starts out like a weird erotic thriller from the early 90s, the kind that’s largely set in one place and features gratuitous scenes of the characters just getting dressed. But then it introduces supernatural elements that suggest some sort of horror grounding. And then it leaves all that behind and becomes a clunky crime picture. The film lurches towards some sort of heist with very vague goals. And then it kind of becomes a horror movie again.
It shuffles through all these mismatched elements with all the panache of a brick. There is hardly ever anything on screen worthy of any attention. Again, it’s all mostly set in a single location, which is really just a room. The worst part, however, is the acting. There is just nothing to be gained from any of these performances. Mindy Robinson seems to have cast mainly for her willingness to take off her clothes. Camden Toy hams it up, but still somehow manages to display a lack of energy in his role. Mark Hanson may as well have been replaced by a surly faced mannequin. Worst of all of them is Melanie Robel, who isn’t able to deliver a single line of dialogue convincingly.
Blood Story is a terrible, terrible film. It is just another direct-to-video feature that was grabbed on the cheap by some distribution outfit. It is a thoroughly amateur production, something that might be amusing within the context of one’s home, perhaps with some alcoholic drinks on hand. It certainly does not make sense in the context of a real theater. It is still baffling that we continue to get films like these in our cinemas. You’d think people would know better. And yet here we are.
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