Try to ignore the title, I did when I decided to watch this movie 'cause I HATE cutsie number titles. And this one had three versions - ugh. Plus it is listed as a horror/thriller when at most it is a psychological thriller - not much 'horror' to it at all and certainly not weird or sick enough (at least for the horror movie fan) to be classified that way. Google seems to agree with me.




Spivey's (Mark Thompson) problem: When he was a little boy, his dad was out drunk driving with his mom and they crashed. In Thompson's world, the hospital's way of trying to make his now-deformed mom feel better about herself was to create a mask for her to wear. Oh yeah, I've seen tons of those around (heavy sarcasm abounds) as that was a common medical practice - in no place or time ever.
His mother, who kept the damn thing on 'cause of the scars (I'd prefer the scars thank you) decided that having a drunk husband and a wimp of a boy who can't look at his mom without flinching (no comment) plus not being able to be the prettiest woman on the block is all too much and hangs herself on a ceiling fan. Thompson forgets to write in a way for her to climb up to the fan so we see a woman hanging with no way of getting herself up there. Whoops.


And people keep dying. Spivey, against his best judgement picks up a previous relationship with his superior, Amanda Richardson (Teri Polo). She almost was a victim of a killer herself which just about killed him but he managed to save her and she genuinely seems to love him.
To Spivey's dismay, this serial killer seems to be performing for his sole benefit and he has no idea why. From the creepy masks, to the seemingly random (but not) victims, and now we get poetry. It's getting complicated. Waaaaay too complicated. This is about the point where you realize that Thompson has a basic thriller going here but he starts packing crap into it like a fat lady packs as much ice cream into a bowl as it can take without breaking (and before you get indignant, the fat lady is me).
We get flashbacks of his awful past, weird flashes of the serial killer and HIS twisted past (apparently no one in this movie had a normal childhood) and little details that Thompson seems to add just to get the movie to keep moving towards a neato conclusion that doesn't quite happen. In fact, just as when you put too much ice cream in a bowl - the bowl's gonna break or the ice cream's gonna melt before you can eat it. In other words, disaster.
And, in the end, it just doesn't work. We're supposed to believe (and this is the ending folks so if you want to see this - stop reading now) that waaaaaay back when Spivey's mom got her mask, the orderly (who was a young man when Spivey was approx. 10-12 years old) who made the mask came from a household where he was tortured by his mom after witnessing her kill his dad, cut him up and bury him in the basement. And she wanders, covered in blood into the streets where the police pick her up - but not before stringing her son up in some complicated Saw-like contraption from the ceiling of the basement, which is where the cops find him when searching the house. Ummm nope, sorry - that's just dumb.
It gets worse. The kid gets adopted and disappears into the system and boom, makes masks at a hospital? The young Spivey doesn't like the mask and rips it off his mom's face which enrages the... uh, guy. Who Spivey apparently forgets completely or he'd have realized the killer was right in front of him for the whole movie - the young husband still hopeful of finding his wife, the still-missing victim of the serial killer. Uh, what? Okay time to call BS on the whole movie and it's a shame 'cause it started well...
Long story short (way WAY too late) this MAN who made the mask has been the 40+ husband bugging Spivey through the movie. Whaaaaa? The MAN is in his 40's but Spivey who was at most a pubescent boy is in his 50's? Yeah, that's about when I just said screw it, just finish this damn thing. How? Oh, the guy somehow gets in Spivey's girlfriend's apartment, injects her with a poison that works precisely at 2:13. And she dies. And he knows it. The end.
Doesn't make sense? It should have. But when you write a movie you should never star in it - 'cause like this guy he totally lost track it seems of what he wanted the movie to be and just started making crap up on the spot. And another movie with a number title bites the dust.
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