Financing his films through his Boll KG production company, Uwe Boll – German director, producer and screenwriter – explains how it's possible on the DVD commentary of Alone in the Dark (2005): "I have a tax shelter fund in Germany and if you invest in a movie there, you get 50 percent back from the government."
Another possible reason why he self-finances is that he’s one of the worst directors of all time – can Blubberella change all that?
It's 1940 and the German army is slaughtering thousands. A motley group of Resistance Fighters, led by Nathaniel and Vadge, struggle against the Nazi scourge. The German army, headed by the Commandant, threatens to eradicate the Resistance, but coming to the rescue is Blubberella.
Half-vampire, half woman, Blubberella loves nothing better than killing Nazis, but an unseemly exchange of bodily fluids sees the Commandant begin his transformation into a powerful day-walking vampire. Now Blubberella faces her greatest foe…
Bold Boll may be, bolshie without a doubt, but a bolt out of the blue this isn’t – all Blubberella manages to do is bolster Uwe Boll’s reputation as the worst director that ever lived. There’s an obvious word that could be used to describe such a monstrosity, but why cheapen the moment when words like bunkum, baloney and blarney work so much better?
Blubberella is about as much fun as eating Boris Becker’s sweatbands. The script was probably written on a beermat after one too many – Boll mistaking the spew spilt for some kind of synopsis, opening the floodgates to humour that isn’t even unintentionally hilarious. You want bland? Here’s bland: our paunchy protagonist introduces herself in a voice-over at the beginning as, “half-human, half-vampire – mostly dough.” Brilliant. But it gets better because she’s always had a problem fitting in, you see – to cars, aeroplanes…
A barrage of misfiring humour, whether it be visual or dialogue-driven, peppers your senses until your brain is blitzed, leaving you so lifeless you’ll be shoved in a body bag and if there’s any justice in the World, cremated with Boll’s entire back catalogue.
Told in chapters, crammed with fat jokes, fart jokes and f-words, Blubberella has no idea what works, so make sure the batteries in your remote control do and keep your finger fixed firmly on the only f-words you need – fast forward. That way you can still soak up the sporadic splashes of undress, while ignoring the deeply offensive portrayal of two black characters, played by white actors caked in face paint that, quite simply, beggars belief.
It’s hard to work out just what Blubberella is supposed to be. A sketch show, perhaps? Not even WALL-E could clean up such trash. Not even Blubberella herself could digest such tasteless dross. You have to credit Boll for having the balls to produce his pièce de résistance, and the actors are surprisingly resilient despite the drip-feed of crap forced down their throats (let’s hope they get a large chunk of that fifty per cent).
The biggest problem here is that the film relies on comedy. To work it has to make the audience laugh. Boll can’t put trust in his few skills by orchestrating a half-decent set-piece this time round, so despite our heroine being a sword-swinging vampire there’s very little action. Worst of all, the director seems happier for it. He even pops up to play Hitler and seems to be enjoying every vomit-inducing moment.
The plot is more than a bit stupid but Lindsay Hollister as Blubberella is better than the filth served to her, and the ending is reassuringly abrupt, arriving just after the seventy-minute mark, ignoring the energy-sapping end credits, including many hilarious “this isn’t funny” comments from the actors involved.
The fact that it’s so short is probably the only notable praise. There’s very little here to keep anyone entertained, with bargain-basement effects, naked ladies and bad acting its few redeeming qualities. For all the uninspired pap filling up the bargain buckets of pound shops around the country, this will be buried the deepest. Skipping from one rubbish gag to the next, the film is so ludicrous it can’t even be classed as offensive – and just like gorging on a bargain bucket, you won’t respect yourself in the morning after watching it.
It’s hard to put into words just how terrible Blubberella truly is. I’m trying, believe me. A fat and feisty vampire feeding on Nazi’s could’ve been fun, but Uwe Boll has one recipe, and this is the biggest helping of worthless poppycock you’ll ever feast your eyes on. Filial cannibalism could be excused if he choked on it.
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