blind date.

Occasionally dear reader a film comes along that is so powerful, so disturbing that it leaves you speechless.

This is one such movie.

Tho' possibly not for the reasons the director intended.

Megan is Missing (2010).
Dir: Michael Goi.
Cast: Amber Perkins, Rachel Quinn and Dean Waite.

Opening with a very serious title card that informs us that the movie we are about to see is based on a true story (scary), the film then hedges it's reality bets and throws all hope of suspense to the wind by revealing this:

And not a single fuck was given.

Yup, two minutes in and we already know the ending but we can still live in the vain hope that we'll probably get some top-notch Larry Clark 'Kids' style acting or at the very least shots of Megan stripping seductively for her mysterious online stalker Josh or even some fumbling girl on girl action between the leads.

But all chances of these things happening quickly disseminate into the ether when the film starts good and proper and you realise that you're about to experience an incredibly dull seventy odd minutes of the horse faced, Bratz doll made flesh Megan (Quinn from Gene DePaul's Chicago-based stage version of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers) whining constantly about school, her hair, parties, boys and the sex.

In arse numbingly graphic detail.

Amazingly all the close-ups of Megan's luscious lips and scarily elongated face as she chats in-depth about blow jobs, descriptions of spunky undies and tales of underage nookie to anyone that's listening are so tedious as to make the thought of doing anything remotely sexual again (especially with any abducted teens you may have in your cupboard) nay on impossible thanks to her nasally voice as it burrows ever deeper into your brain like a bloated cranium worm.

Cheers for that hen.

"You want me to do WHAT in your cup?"

And rather than make us care about Megan with all these heart felt teenage chats, writer/director/closet fetishist Goi only succeeds in making her not only totally repulsive but also deserving of a bloody good kicking.

To be honest you actually start counting down to her abduction, knowing that you'll finaly get a break from her constant, self-absorbed bollocks.

At one point I honestly thought that moon-faced best buddy Amy had done it just so she could get a word in edgeways the poor cow.

"Crap chat police! You're under arrest sugar!

Anyways, between all this talking shite and applying lipgloss it appears that Megan has been flirting online to a hunky skater-boi named Josh and has arranged to meet him.

Surprise, surprise Josh is a bad man who violently snatches Megan away never to be seen again.

And worse than that is the fact that Josh isn't even his real name!

The bounder!

She might look upset now but just you wait till arse banditary starts.

Amy upon realising that she has no idea how to start a conversation now motor-mouth Megan has gone decides to turn all Nancy Drew on us (minus the pop socks obviously) and investigate the disappearance of her pal.

Weeks later tho', Amy also vanishes.




So far, so TeeVee movie of the week but hark! the director has one final trick up his sleeve.

 You see it appears that after weeks of searching that the police have discovered Amy's camera in a bin.

And someone seems to have been posting vaguely embarrassing pictures of what could be Megan on a bizarro bondage fetish site.

"Shite in mah whiny American mooth!"

Bring on the real-time footage of Amy, stripped to her undies, caked in mud and chained up in a cellar as she's systematically abused, raped and sworn at by 'Josh' in gloriously unflinching eighties nasty style sleaze-arama.

But if you think that this is all a wee bit too exploitationy for a public service mocumentary then you ain't see owt yet because dirty boy Goi has an ace in the bag.

Or more precisely Megan's rotting corpse in a barrel.

Which I'll admit was unexpected.

Bored by all this torture and tears, Josh decides to pop Amy into the barrel too as our family friendly director closes the film by filming Josh's feet as he digs a hole big enough to put the barrel in as the soundtrack is filled with Amy's screams.

for almost twelve and a half minutes.

"Laugh now!"

Like a living, breathing copy of Chat Magazine with it's wholesome, family friendly tales of holiday rape and cheery infanticide stories, Megan is Missing seems to exist in a bizarre void where public safety films and early eighties sleaze, both drunk on cheap gin and high on poppers have shagged each other senseless in a grimy back alley before spewing forth an ultra-foul, faux Cinéma vérité baby, misshapen, and twisted yet still managing to vomit ill-conceived torture porn cunningly masquerading as scaremongering public service propaganda from it's lipless mouth.

Available from all good newagents!

Utilising the by now criminally clichéd found footage scenario, Megan is Missing is made up of around 70% camcorder and mobile phone stuff, 20% CCTV footage and news reports with the final 10% appearing to be the directors private fantasy files made flesh.

Possibly.

If so then he wont have been the first director to put his wildest sexual dreams on film but at least the others were a wee bit more honest and didn't wrap them in public service cotton wool.

Tho' maybe I'm being too harsh about the poor guy (harsh, me?) and Michael Goi  did actually have his heart in the right place whilst making this.

If that's the case then it's just a pity he appeared to have his free hand shoved firmly down the front of his underpants for the last twenty or so minutes really.

Fuck I really need a bleach shower now.