Home Sick review

When a traveling salesman infiltrates the house of a group of misfits, he whips out a suitcase full of razorblades, promises to kill someone for each of them, and then proceeds to cut himself with a razor. Clocked in at about four minutes into the film, this is where Home Sick officially stops being coherent.

I’m fairly certain that a quarter of the way through, the script was lost and all the actors went “fuck it” and ad-libbed the rest of the film. It’s the only explanation I have for why there was a five-minute discussion on chili midway through the film, closely followed by a foray into an NRA member’s wet dream.

This movie makes less than no sense. The beginning and the end don’t seem to match up at all. You start with a genuinely interesting idea that a deranged door-to-door salesman offers to kill people free of charge, and somehow end up with a demon in a backwards shack in Alabama.

There’s very little one can say about this film that doesn’t somehow involve the words ‘awful’, ‘ridiculous’ or ‘unimaginative’. Pick any one, and you have Home Sick summarized in a nutshell.

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