Uwe Boll is not Satan. Nor is he Beelzebub, Scratch, the Prince of Darkness, or even Petey Wheatstraw. Boll is just a fanatic with a lunatic mission -- to bring cinematic versions of disruptive, low-rent video games (BloodRayne, House of the Dead) to movie screens and, in due course, to bargain DVD bins in Walmartopia department stores around the world. Boll's misbegotten passion can be seen in every frame of his video game aggrandizements, and like Peter Lorre in M, he can't help it.
His new film, Postal, starts off in high octane farcical mode, as two terrorists, United 93 style, have taken over the control of a jet en route to martyrdom, and are disagreeing whether they were told that 100 or 99 virgins will await them in the afterlife. Putting in a call to Osama bin Laden to find out the exact number of virgins, the boys are informed that the number of virgins has been reduced to 10 per recruit because, with all the martyrs signing up, there are not enough virgins to go around. With that, the terrorists decide to forget the whole thing and take the plane to the Bahamas. At that point, the passengers burst in and send the plane crashing. Cut to a window washer on the side of a World Trade Center tower looking over his shoulder as a plane approaches behind him and crashes into the building. Here Boll positions the Postal as a masterpiece of bad taste, sending up the post-9/11 landscape, debunking the purloining of horrific events by politicians and the media for patriotic and political chicanery.
Continue reading: Postal Review