Two extremely resilient prisoners, a man (Dan Ellis) and a woman (Lillian McKinney), are subjected to a series of brutal medical procedures by a sadistic doctor.
I've always considered films like this to be challenge—to see if I can stomach the extreme violence being depicted. American Guinea Pig: Bloodshock is a challenge all right—to see if I can watch the whole thing without losing interest.
Bloodshock proves to be an apt title, since I was shocked to see that nearly all of the blood in the film has been captured in glorious black and white! While the gore is graphic (yet nowhere near as relentlessly nasty as its predecessor, Bouquet of Guts and Gore), its effect on the viewer is seriously diminished thanks to a misguided attempt at an art-house style that simply doesn't suit the material. It seems like such a waste of effort.
Director Marcus Koch's art-house approach also leads to interminable scenes that focus on the victims while they are locked in a padded cell, sharing poignant notes with each other through a hole in the wall, all of which serve to make the film a real chore at times. The pretentiousness is ramped up to 11 for the final act in which the two victims, free at last, decide not to escape but to get it on, reopening their wounds whilst having sex. At least that part pulls fewer punches, with the messiness now in full colour.
A final twist—revealed during the end credits—tries to make some sense of what we have seen, but does little to improve matters.
I've always considered films like this to be challenge—to see if I can stomach the extreme violence being depicted. American Guinea Pig: Bloodshock is a challenge all right—to see if I can watch the whole thing without losing interest.
Bloodshock proves to be an apt title, since I was shocked to see that nearly all of the blood in the film has been captured in glorious black and white! While the gore is graphic (yet nowhere near as relentlessly nasty as its predecessor, Bouquet of Guts and Gore), its effect on the viewer is seriously diminished thanks to a misguided attempt at an art-house style that simply doesn't suit the material. It seems like such a waste of effort.
Director Marcus Koch's art-house approach also leads to interminable scenes that focus on the victims while they are locked in a padded cell, sharing poignant notes with each other through a hole in the wall, all of which serve to make the film a real chore at times. The pretentiousness is ramped up to 11 for the final act in which the two victims, free at last, decide not to escape but to get it on, reopening their wounds whilst having sex. At least that part pulls fewer punches, with the messiness now in full colour.
A final twist—revealed during the end credits—tries to make some sense of what we have seen, but does little to improve matters.