Following on the successful Thai forerunner of this film, this new iteration provides a somewhat relaxed intro to a basic horror genre manifestation.

A man, Eliot (Mark Webber), gets telephoned tasks that begin deceptively mildly, though not without a disgusting quotient all the same. For his participation, which becomes more and more nonvoluntary, he is gifted with increasing sums of money to alleviate his difficult living conditions: loss of his job, a pregnant girlfriend, a vicious father, an Asperger’s-afflicted brother needing institutionalization, and a looming wedding. Cash is too much in demand for the hero to turn down the increasingly horrible (and weird) tasks -- though to Eliot’s credit, when his orders include bloody dismemberments and ultimately the decapitation of innocents, he takes a stand. Forfeiture and loss are baked into the cake, but the ride is supposed to ensure that we get the full Monty of bloody excess. We never do know why the tasks are so arcane and crackers, though Eliot is a good stand-in for the Average Joe afflicted with what he thinks is an easy answer to his many money problems.

One usually steers a wide berth around full-on horror pics. This is not as gruesome, as soon, as the vast run of the field. But it gets there, Grasshopper.  It gets there. There is no sex, no scatology, nothing offensive... except the premise and the grue-index as it escalates.

The film is not uninvolving, for a time. The production values are there: Attractive enough cast members, including Ron Perlman as a detective, accommodating scenery, scripting that does not wholly disgust the discerning. At first. But halfway through, the story line becomes muddled. One cannot figure out who is ordering the protagonist to do such outlandish and uncalled-for "sins," and soon, one gives up trying. The plot commits that ultimate sin: It fails to make sense. The story falls apart, and even by the last reel, we have no idea who did what, or why. Who won, who lost. Who cares. There are a cornucopoeia of questions hanging in the air at the end. That makes for audience annoyance and dissatisfaction. Be it known that the Thai original made better and more logical sense than this version.

It is still a mystery why even teenagers would want to see gore like that slathered over viewers with such films.  (NB:  Boys supposedly take girls to slasher films so the girls can squeal and climb onto the lap of her escort. Or clutch him for ‘safety.’ That part of the plot never changes…) Isn't ordinary life nowadays frightening enough, with its disappearing Malay airliners, its Ukraine takeovers, and its insane PTSD shooters going postal for no ostensible reason?

Guess it’s a narrow, male-chromosome thing.