“Dragonball: Revulsion”

Anthony Ricardi‘s review of:

Dragonball: Evolution

In a nutshell: A teen martial artist must track down seven magic talismans in order to prevent global destruction.

Sorry, Dragonball kids…

This reviewer is going to have to pass on some tough love, but wants you to know that he can relate, as he is (and always will be) a Superman guy; and we all know how the last cinematic interpretation of that character came out. So, brace yourselves.

In the vast category of failed films, there are films that are so bad they are inadvertently great, films that are simply awful for any number of reasons, and then there is the type of picture we have here… a movie so stultifyingly, mind-numbingly terrible that it should come with a special “dangerous materials enclosed” logo on the poster, like biohazardous medical waste or the like.

In other words, citizens, this flick was not fun… unless you define fun as feeling as if you, personally, were being brain-pummeled by each and every kick-throwing character in it. To subject you, gentle readers, to the plethora of banalities and inanities that assaulted this critic would be to share the echo of great and deep pain, and that shall simply not happen (well, this time, anyway). So, in place of a monotonous list of the cinema crimes contained within “Dragonball: Evolution,” let it suffice that they can be summed up in a little poem partly composed by your humble reviewer outside the theater (just to restart the synapses firing).

Ode to Orbs Odious

Dragonball, Dragonball… why did you make no sense at all?

So truly bad that it often hurt… wasting Chow Yun-fat in a Hawaiian shirt!

Cast with adults in place of teens… a new boring character in every other scene.

A weird green alien, a shape-shifting flirt… and Chow Yun-fat in a Hawaiian shirt!

Everyone Asian, at least in name, the lead was a round-eye… which was more than lame.

A tragedy motivates our boy to divert… causing him to meet Chow in his crazy shirt!

The hero is Goku, which really means Monkey… say, kid, how’d you’d your hair get so spiky and funky?

Master Roshi’s soon grabbing at every skirt… yes, it’s poor Chow Yun-fat in his Hawaiian shirt!

The back-story, charitably, was a little dense… and if you haven’t read the comics, it will make zero sense.

With re-tread dialog and clichés overt… plus Chow Yun- fat in that Hawaiian shirt!

An action-packed fantasy is what was billed… not a talky ramble that never thrilled.

The CGI looked brown, like dull, smeared-on dirt… but Chow Yun-fat glowed in that Hawaiian shirt!

The lack of fighting’s what makes this feel so slow… hey, there’s more punch-ups in a Springer show.

Not screened for critics, so we couldn’t subvert… Chow Yun-fat in his Hawaiian shirt!

Put the balls together and get yourself a dragon… folks, as a story, this one is sure laggin’.

There’s a bit of romance here, that’s blessedly curt… but not for Chow Yun-fat in his anti-chick shirt!

With cardboard characters and a script that’s no good… this flick feels like one from good ‘ol’ Ed Wood.

‘Dead zones’ leave us feeling inert… save us, Chow Yun-fat in your Hawaiian shirt!

Forget about Goku and his slogging quest… skip this one and skip becoming depressed.

Wake-up call or failed career alert… for once-great Chow Yun-fat in his Hawaiian shirt!

If somehow this one you should see… you’ll find just how long 85 minutes can be.

Audiences will bail, this critic ain’t lyin’… even Chow Yun-fat and his shirt Hawaiian!

Bottom Line: A mushy, mystical, martial arts mess guaranteed to disappoint manga-anime fans and drive everyone else to avoid anything to do with this franchise for the rest of their lives.

Critic’s Rating: F (for Futile)

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