The Ice Cream Man, the Ice Cream Man, what to say about the Ice Cream Man? The latest dreck from Eli Roth, who once incorrectly billed himself as the master of horror, Ice Cream Man is what happens when you have a concept but no other ingredients to keep it from melting into a flavorless mess.
There really isn’t a whole lot to say, nor does this movie deserve the effort it’s taking to write this review.
There just isn’t much here.
On the positive side, and unsurprisingly, Roth delivers some savory gore, splattering the screen with frivolous blood and guts. Children butcher their parents, teachers, and neighbors—gotta love it, right?
But there just isn’t much here.
Horror movies don’t need great plots, but Ice Cream Man is so lacking in forward momentum it simply exists as a piece of film that flickers moving pictures on screen. The characters are utterly forgettable. The title character is a nothingburger (or should I say, spinach gelato?). Even for Eli Roth, this is shoddy filmmaking through and through, a waste of time for everyone involved.
Oddly, I have a mild affinity for some of Roth’s directorial efforts. While neither Hostel nor Cabin Fever deserved the attention they received, I didn’t mind Green Inferno, Knock Knock or even his joke-turned-into-a-real-thing Thanksgiving. None are great, but they at least had plots. And mildly compelling protagonists. And some semblance of craft.
Ice Cream Man has no flavor. It has anti-flavor. It has gore but nothing to bring that gore to life; it exists because Roth knows how to do it, nothing more. What to say about the Ice Cream Man? Not another word.
Review by Erik Samdahl. Erik is a marketing and technology executive by day, avid movie lover by night. He is a member of the Seattle Film Critics Society.
