Dr. Uwe Boll, the prolific, German-born producer-director, primarily of daffy videogame adaptations, is enough of a wanton, runamok showman to have William Castle tingling in the grave. Of his latest, “Postal,” Boll, who claims a literature degree, has posted on one of his Web sites a screed in his usual fashion that reads in part, in reference to the initial plans to release his picture on 1,300-plus screens, now reduced to five, all punctuation Boll’s own: “To all of you writing now about me and the fact that POSTAL is not getting screens. its okay ..its fun kicking a guy nonstop who is on the ground you are all not getting it that i’m the guy who made it against the big hollywood system and you are all only busy to destroy me and finish me up and then you YOU WON WHAT ? the attention of the studios, michael bay .. ????? … what is your game plan? you want only movies like JUMPER , SPEED RACER , WHAT HAPPENDS IN VEGAS …? then keep going and your dreams will be fullfilled. POSTAL makes some very important points ..but you dont wanna see that …. : that Bush used the SEPTEMBER 11 to start a war against a country what had nothing to do with Bin Laden etc…. but this all doesnt matter because you are all busy to THINK that INDIANA JONES or NARNIA are important movies… POSTAL shows the BIG PICTURE … POSTAL is not accepting bullshit politics… you are sitting on your desks and you are working on stories about me ….and my image as the worst director on earth…and you fullfill what your editor wants from you in regards of uwe boll …or you fullfill what you think makes you a cooler guy in the internet…. how many times you wanna keep going in movies only because the TRAILER was so cool and the CGI was so great ?” Cripes! I’d like to see the film he thinks he made. Dr. Boll’s actual movie, outrageous yet seldom even amusing, opens with two hijackers arguing over their cut of the virgins to come after their mission: cut to a window washer on the World Trade Center, oblivious to the plane headed in his direction. Fiery explosion: main title. Other lowlights: a cat’s ass used as a silencer; full frontal Dave Foley, a middle-aged man who ought to have stayed in the hall; cult leaders; “Mini-Me” Verne Troyer raped by hundreds of monkeys; penis dolls; a skip-to-the-lou into a nuclear holocaust by a hand-in-hand Bin Laden and George W. Bush; Jew-hating; and a newscaster who intones about “why the World Trade Center victims deserved to die.” My favorite element is the pro forma customs declaration that accompanied the review DVD (with the reviewer’s name and newspaper burnt into every frame) from Boll’s Vancouver, Canada, office, which takes on small, smirk-worthy irony: “NO COMMERCIAL VALUE… WE DECLARE THAT THE FILM (S) contains no obscene or immoral material nor any matter advocating or urging treason or insurrection against the United States, nor any threat to take the life of or inflict bodily harm upon any person in the United States.” So help me Gob. With Michael Pare, Jodie Stewart, David Huddleston, Seymour Cassel. 106m. Anamorphic 2.40 widescreen. (Ray Pride)
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