Dellamorte, Dellamore (Michele Soavi, 1994)

A little less than a month later, and the addition of alcohol those 25 days ago when I watched it, and I barely remember anything about this movie, other than I hated it a lot. I seem to remember Rupert Everett as a kind of forlorn cemetery caretaker, pining for a love of his own. Enter an actress who plays multiple characters and, I think, screws him over as each of them? I remember it basically being a movie about how women are the worst and they always ruin guys' lives. It also was not funny at all, except in that trying too hard way that lots of horror "comedies" seem to do. Also had a very film school overachiever look to it, with lots of pseudo-artsy shots that exist mostly for their own sake, rather than what they contribute to or comment on the actions/ideas/themes onscreen. I actually honestly have difficulty understanding the film's appeal as a cult favorite. What does it offer that, well, almost anything can't offer better? This is the worst review I've written in a while. I should've written it right away, as I have nowhere to go with it now. It also has lots of mean-spirited, malicious jokes directed at Everett's assistant, an embodiment of the slow-witted Igor trope.