Well boys and girls, it’s time to talk about one of the crappiest movies I’ve ever seen in my life. This one comes with a warning however: you might not want to keep reading in case you’re of a sensitive constitution. If you’re easily offended, by either explicit material or poor filmmaking, you might want to turn away now.

All right. You’ve brought this on your own head. The general synopsis of Dying God is that a rough, streetwise cop is forced to joined forces with the lowlifes he normally arrests in order to bring down a serial killer who’s raping and killing prostitutes in some rundown urban South American city. The catch of course is that something else is afoot. So you’ve got lots of bloodshed, coupled with an unintentionally hilarious “tough guy” routine and lots of liaisons with women of the night. Plus you’ve got Lance Henriksen in to a wheelchair, complete with a harpoon gun (don’t ask…the truth wouldn’t make any sense). I don’t know whom he owes money to, but this is a far cry from his earlier work. Shoot, this film manages to make Alien vs. Predator look like a masterpiece.

And here’s where we get into spoiler territory. If for some awful reason you’re still determined to watch this, then you’ve been fairly warned. You want to know the true story of Dying God? It’s about some legendary South American monster named the Kurupi that’s dying. Apparently it’s the last of its kind and the people who worship it brought it to a big city to try to reproduce. The problem is, this beast is packing some real heat in the penis department. We’re talking big enough to puncture through a woman’s abdomen while having sex.

Yeah. That’s right. This movie is ultimately about a monster with a killer penis raping women to death. Isn’t that delightful? It’s so stupid it’s unbelievable. Somehow everyone in the film plays it as straight as possible, but it still comes off as a total joke.

So let’s see: terrible story, atrocious acting…oh and the production values are awful. It looks like something you’d see on a TV show, not some film production. In my book, that’s three strikes. There are a lot more, but hopefully I’ve done my job and completely warned you away from this mess. I’d say something here about not touching this with a ten-foot pole, but then I think I’d be playing right into the hands of the monster with the junk that kills.