Black Sheep review

Daft genetic experiments, mutant monster sheep, the violence of the lambs... Ho ho? No... Dopey editing, ropey pacing, hokey story structure, scrappy sound, rubbish rubbery gore and acting that would shame a toddlers’ nativity play. Black Sheep might spark the odd spook in its native New Zealand, where ovine idiots outnumber humans by 11 to 1. But everywhere else, where they’re just annoyingly malleable wool dispensers, it’s just a shoddy zombie-horror knock-off. Director Jonathan King – not that one – shows passable flair with an off-the-peg jump-shock, and uses Weta’s best contribution – a grotesque animatronic sheep-head – to decent effect, in a sly Shining steal. But he’s pitching the film as a cheerfully vulgar slop of schlock in the spraying vein of Bad Taste or Braindead, when it doesn’t have half the wit or grit of either.

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