Written by Andreas Babiolakis

Not since Neill Blomkamp’s Chappie has a post apocalyptic action film made me wish for my own apocalypse to happen as quickly as possible.

The production for Eli Roth’s adaptation of the adored Borderlands video games is a complicated one. Trapped in production hell for years, Borderlands was shot all the way back in 2021 with its release only having finally just happened (why was it being sat on for so long?). Craig Mazin of Chernobyl and The Last of Us fame wrote a screenplay eons ago, which was most likely bastardized beyond repair to the point that the scribe wanted his name removed from the project with all haste. Star Cate Blanchett proclaimed that the only reason why she took on this project was because the COVID-19 pandemic drove her to a state of insanity (keep in mind, again, that Borderlands was indeed shot that long ago). The signs of this film being a disaster were all there, and even then, they weren’t enough preparation for what we do get. Roth’s never been my favourite director. I don’t think the guy can construct a filmic narrative if all he had to do was finish a Madlibs exercise off with a handful of words. Even with that in mind, Borderlands may be the worst film he’s ever made simply because it is as irritating and painful as having a deer tick finding a new home in your urethra and refusing to leave. I apologize for the graphic imagery, but I feel like it is necessary. There was obvious studio meddling with this film, and you can sense a tug-of-war between Roth trying to make the hardest Rated R film he can and producers who can get offended by stuffed animals, but that also doesn’t excuse the awful ideas that you can sense from the very start; it only justifies how atrocious the final result is.

If it even matters, Borderlands features Blanchette as Lilith: a fuchsia-haired bounty hunter who has been forced to try and find a magnate’s daughter, Tina (Ariana Greenblatt). Before we even get a chance to properly acclimatize ourselves to this mission, Tina is found, and the return mission kicks off the recruitment of squad members, including rogue mercenary Roland (Kevin Hart) and Psycho Krieg (Florian Munteanu; a Psycho is someone who has gone insane with the Vault that contains all of civilization’s most important secrets in this wasteland of a reality, if I understood the film correctly); additionally, other faces like scientist Patricia Tannis (Jamie Lee Curtis) and club hostess Mad Moxxi (Gina Gershon) will also pop up, and Jack Black supplies the voice for the pesky android Claptrap who never shuts his yap. As they venture forth, they learn more about why this mission is so vital, but it felt as important to me as reading through all of the guidelines when installing a match-three mobile game.

Borderlands’ story is a subdued one that barely matters because any proper progression is sacrificed for jokes, action, and catch phrases; all of which are insufferable throughout the majority of the film. I don’t care about what happens because I just wanted the film to be finished as soon as Lilith sets foot on the planet Pandora to fulfill this mission. This film is nearly two hours of constant noise, try-hard edge, and awful attempts at being humorous or exciting; it feels like I’m at an eighth grade sock hop where the music may finally be uncensored (these are thrilling times, I’m sure). The pretend danger, coolness, or charisma is worse than just flat. It feels insulting, like you have to be on board with this film and find it fun because it is screaming at you in desperation to be loved. It feels so delusional. Every joke misfires. No catch phrase will ever catch on. Most action films have you wanting the action to never stop; I would get worried whenever they began here. By the time the final credits hit, I had a headache that throbbed as viciously as a mobile phone going off, which I naturally answered; the call was from my soul asking me to get the fuck out of the cinema.

No. I’m not coming back to watch this film ever again. Stare all you want. I’m *out*.

I won’t blame any of the actors for the exhaustively exasperating characters, because I feel like they all matched how they were directed, but the only person who makes this film even remotely watchable is Blanchett (needless to say, this is still the worst film I’ve ever seen her associate herself with). Blanchett makes Lilith at least somewhat interesting, even with the ten thousand times she is expected to say “shit” (because this is a PG-13 affair, and we can’t say “fuck” ten thousand times instead). I feel like the main reason why Lilith is tolerable otherwise is because she isn’t plagued with the personality of a dhobi itch. Tina made me cringe the entire film. Krieg felt like every macho moron at a frat party who already had far too much to drink this morning and now believes he is the god of the sun. I can’t even begin to get into Black’s Claptrap and the damage control he underwent after Kyle Gass’ infamous Donald Trump comments at the Tenacious D concert in Australia, because knowing the extent of how much they wanted to protect something like this hurts like a needle in my eye. A service bot who even has a scene where he is defecating loudly to the point of giving away the party’s hiding spot is what needed to be saved at all costs. Okay.

We’re forced to team up with these cretinous oddballs, and it feels like, once again, I’m back in middle school and undergoing my last acceptable Halloween with people who are too old to be dressing up and yet too young with their attempts at seeming mature and sassy. I cannot wait to get home because their constant yelling in my ear is undeniable, and now the sugar from the candy we got is hitting me to the point of feeling both dizzy and nauseated. Part of the latter sensation comes from the obnoxious visuals here that I assume are trying to replicate how the game looks but instead does a better job matching the cat’s vomit stain I just cannot get out of the rug after many attempts. It got to the point that I barely cared who was in this film, I just needed it to end in microseconds because I could barely take how in-your-face this film is. It has zero concept of my own personal space. I feel like Borderlands is also akin to the experience of having a drunk at a bar who won’t stop falling all over me and insisting that there’s chemistry between us.

As the film progresses and I cannot care less about who I am spending the time with (actually, I can: I care less about the story itself), it just feels like a domino effect of every trick in the teen-action-film guidebook that we’ve seen so many times that you know they’re coming a mile away. I’m not sure if this film was trying to be like one of Marvel’s more spicy offerings (think Guardians of the Galaxy or Deadpool) or like George Miller’s Mad Max classics (particularly Fury Road), but Borderlands and Roth have no idea why these films work to their varying degrees. You have to have more going on than just crudeness, stuff happening, calamity, and characters responding so lazily to scenarios as if they’re emotes from a video game being spammed by some crusty tween who is down to his fifth bag of Doritos during this all-night PlayStation marathon. You have to make these characters likeable, give them enough history and depth for us to connect with them, and deliver a story that will want us to remain invested. Then you can try and press your luck with the loudness that you want your film to have. At least try to win us over before you scream at us.

I’ve never played any of the Borderlands games, but if they’re anything like this, I’d be happier strapping an irate skunk to my face and making do with my new, smelly mask for a few hours. That’s the worst thing an adaptation can do: be so poor that you cannot even be bothered to see what inspired this monstrosity. I’m sure the games are great and even ten thousand emails from you promising I’ll enjoy them more won’t convince me at this point to check them out. I’m sure I’ll come around eventually when I’m finally able to eat proper food again without wanting to spill my guts out. What I cannot move on from is how agonizing Borderlands is: a film that is nearly impossible to watch if it wasn’t for Blanchett somehow — through the miracle of being one of the greatest actors of all time — encouraging us to keep going. She deserves an Academy Award for that alone; then again, I don’t want that honour going anywhere near this nightmare.

What was promised to be a faithful adaptation that took years to make wound up feeling like a tutorial level in a game whose cut scenes we instantly skipped. At the end of the film, I feel like we’ve barely gotten anywhere, the real film never really starts after this two-hour trailer to the worst pain I will feel all year in a theatre, and I cannot fathom how anyone thought this was okay to release due to how disjointed and unpleasant this film is. Then again, that’s likely why Borderlands was sat on for so long; no one had any idea how to fix this thing. I must give credit to people like Black, Curtis, Gershon, and the like who have promoted and stood by this film through thick and thin regardless of what happens because I feel like you can trust them with your life after this dedication; perhaps they genuinely had fun on set with one another, but you wouldn’t know it with how haphazardly this blocky “motion” picture is. It’s one of those instances where it was likely wiser that Lionsgate sat on this project forever and just pretended it never existed, especially because I have no clue as to how this film will ever make back its 120 million dollar budget, its years of stop-start production, or the dignities of those who are now forever attached to what is easily one of the worst films of the 2020s decade. If the production was this troubled, I wish Eli Roth and company just do what most video game players do when a game or level just doesn’t seem possible to complete after many attempts; they rage quit and try a new game.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.