Slash. Hack. Spurt. Gurgle... Forget the hype, the tireless self-promotion by the blabbermouth director – truth is, there’s little sophistication in Hostel, a backpackers-in-peril shocker that’s happiest pummelling the gut or tickling the groin, but never the brain.
Doing for inter-railing what director Eli Roth’s debut, Cabin Fever, did for Gillette razors, Hostel clumsily blends Eurotrip-style jock-com with Saw’s ordeal horror as Californian tourists (Jay Hernandez and Derek Richardson) uncover a Slovakian snuff ring.
The charnel house horror is refreshingly grim, but the pity’s in the puerility: Roth’s alleged Serious Point – horny Yanks treat girls like meat then end up in a real-life butcher’s shop themselves – is transparently false; an excuse for lingering over tits’n’ass.