The Brothers Grimm fable has been horribly butchered….
Witch Hunters is a woeful spin on the famous German folklore tale about two siblings who fended off a flesh-eating witch in her gingerbread house. Older and meaner, Hansel and Gretel are armed with guns and grenades, taking their double-act vigilante crusade against all wart-ridden harlots in the land who dare cross them.
I wish I could drown Wirkola in gingerbread for exposing people to this travesty. I used to think it was impossible to make worse films than video games conversions, but I stand corrected. Snow White and the Hunstman‘s commercial success might have spawned a new genre-pox of horrible. What’s next? Cinderella vs. Predator?
With such a ridiculous narrative, the only hope is that usually good actors Jeremy Renner and Gemma Arterton, H and G respectively, might be able weave something from it, and at least make Wirkola’s nightmare mindless, Expendables-esque fun. You would be wrong. Where’s The Rock when you need him? As if not looking past the paycheques, both opaquely drag you from one forgettable, pointless fight to the next. Peter Stormare and Famke Jenssen are so vapid they’re just not worth bothering your brain cells with.
Perhaps the solitary soggy crumb of comfort is the admittedly flash effects, which have had a lot of money lavished upon them. But then, so has Robert Mugabe.
The only purpose of Witch Hunters is punishment. You would rather be waterboarded with Cindies toilet water than ever put yourself through this trial.