I was not looking forward to watching a film called “Death Toilet Number 2.” I had shallow hopes going in, but movies can surprise you! You should never judge a movie by its title, I always say. Then I watched the trailer. It was not good. I mean, it was really not good. But! You should never judge a movie by its trailer, I always say. So, I watched Death Toilet Number 2. All 58 excruciating minutes of it. I can now say that Death Toilet Number 2 is the worst movie I have ever seen in my thirty-one years of life. 

Sometimes movies are so bad that they’re great. The Room, Birdemic, and Sharknado, to name a few. Films made to be good but received their cult following because they just ended up being laughably awful. Death Toilet Number 2 is not one of these movies. Death Toilet Number 2 is just bad. Not laughably bad, just bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. I wasted 58 minutes of my life watching this movie. It was 58 minutes I could have spent doing any other unenjoyable activity. I could have gotten a root canal, jumped into a snake pit, eaten the special surprises my cat leaves in her litterbox, attended a Trump rally, walked on broken glass, sat through an amateur open mic at Flapper’s comedy club, seen the musical Brigadoon, or rolled around naked through the sidewalks of skid row… all of these extremely unenjoyable activities would have been more fun than watching this horrible excuse of a film.

Death Toilet Number 2, as you can guess, is about possessed toilets. Brett Baxter (Mike Hartsfield) and Father Marcus (Isaac Golub) team up to try and exorcise these said toilets. Simple enough premise. Now let’s take this apart. What made this film so unwatchable? Was it the timers whenever a character would fart? Was it the 2D special fx? Was it the unmotivated storyline? Was it the sound effects that lasted longer than any sound effect should ever last? Was it the poor attempt at humor? Was it the VHS stock footage? Was it the actors that didn’t know how to say a complete sentence without stuttering? Was it the random cut shots in the middle of every scene? Was it the fact that the “poop” sequences made me want to vomit? Was it the pitiable attempt at “horror”? Was it the fact that Baxter (Mike Hartsfield) resembled one of my favorite comedians, David Cross, but then I had to deal with the reality that it wasn’t David Cross? The answers to these questions are: yes. Yes, it was — all of this and more.

I give Death Toilet Number 2 one out of ten crucifixes. For being the worst film, I have ever seen in my entire life. (They get one crucifix for effort. I guess initiative should receive some reward.)