It is often the case when reviewing that it is more enjoyable to write about bad 'art'. In the case of Brett Leonard's Feed I must thank my brother for recommending me a motion picture of such superlative-defying badness that I was instantly compelled to express my apparent distaste with anyone prepared to take the time to read it. The Israeli military continues to demolish Lebanon with gay abandon whilst Hezbollah returns fire with its rockets; Shia and Sunni are at each others throats whilst Baghdad, Basra et al crumble in the midst of unacknowledged civil war; thousands die every day from aids, hunger, poverty, disease and neglect. The truth is you know all this already, and although I feel a slight guilt that I don't surrender my free time to the discussion of more pressing matters such as those aforementioned, I still cannot allow myself to let the memory of Feed pass without discussion. It just means too much. Feed manages to rip-off every serial-killer film made in the last 15 years and does so with what I hope to God is an ironic awareness of its own ineptitude. Useless flash cuts, filters, choppy editing and nausea-inducing camera-work prove only to aid the revelation that Leonard can't direct. The man who brought us that untouchable sci-fi milestone The Lawnmower Man (arf!) is so clearly unaware of how to generate tension that the film descends into farce from the opening frames. A perverse killer (Alex O' Loughlin) is feeding up women to elephantine proportions whilst he creates a secretive website where gamblers can place bets on their imminent deaths. To counter the death of his latest soon-to-be victim, a cybercrime cop (Patrick Thompson) is determined to track him down; journeying from Australia to the US, so determined is he to do so. Oh, he also happens to have a really hot nympho girlfriend who gets naked in the shower in a few soft-focus flashback scenes designed, (I presume) for the red-blooded male viewer to give his eyes a rest from women so fat it looks like they're going to burst through the telly. Such plot contrivances are irrelevant however, because Feed makes little sense. I visualize screenwriter Keiran Galvin's look of twisted glee whilst barking orders to his bored ghost writers to add scenes of a crazed German man being willingly fed his own bleeding member ('I vant to be eaten!', screams said crazed German in a standout scene). If there is one thing to be said in its favour it is, intentionally or not (I'm doubtful), one of the funniest films you will find staring at you from the DVD shelf of your local Blockbuster. It's Plan 9 funny at times. The scene where cop awakes to find crim (I refuse to register the planks in this film as actual characters) has injected him with a syringe of fat, only for him to burst it open like a huge zit had me reeling. Crim force-feeding Tubby McTubbster the fat of the other girls he's killed was another zinger ('It's a bit salty baby,' she says to him lovingly). Also, the cheesy eloquence of Crim's speeches about the importance of inner beauty made me smile. Perhaps most important though is the inevitable twist ending, which for the sake of formality I will fail to spoil for you but needless to say, probably had our beloved screenwriter sporting wood from self-adulation. Glad I got this off my chest. Now that I have completely slated it for all it's worth, go rent it. My opinion won't change a damned thing.