Christian Slater's a trench coat and tank top wearing psychic investigator, and he's being chased by big invisible monsters that live in gold mines and can only be killed by sunlight bullets, and then there are some tiny critters that live in the spinal columns of zombie orphans and ... hell, I don't know. Uwe Boll, the man behind the infamous House of the Dead, tackles another video game adaptation, with results that are honestly close to impossible to adequately discuss without coughing up a lung in laughter. From the solid three minutes of spoken word prologue, to Tara Reid as a museum curator unable to pronounce "anthropology," to the dueling foreheads of Slater and baddie Stephen Dorff, this film attains a level of awe-inspiring Velveeta dunderheadedness. That faint sound you hear is Ed Wood doing donuts in his crypt in admiration.