UNCLE DON’S VIEWS OF NIL REPUTE:

Hurrying to get there, late as usual, couldn’t find the plunger, again. Whoa, what’s that slowing me down? A ’67 VW Micro Bus? I don’t care what that beater is worth, can’t the dude pedal a little faster?

Dropped the Pinto down a gear, my pedal to the rusting metal, what’s that sound? Another clutch? It had better be downhill to and from the theater or I got me a long push home, again.

Having dropped eight large on a matinee ticket, I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the latest Wal-Mart commercial before the start of the flick. Cuz, I coulda blown them eight smackers on a mess of Del Taco half pound bean burritos instead. Not that you’d wanna be near me after a half-dozen and change of those bad boys.

Lasting a tad longer than Bill Richardson’s nomination for commerce secretary, “The Unborn” clocks in under 90 minutes. What we need are faster clocks. Time is not on your side with this loser.

It’s an oxymoron, a PG-13 horror film. It’s a horror of a film all right, but without the senseless violence, gratuitous nudity and graphic language that should properly populate such an endeavor.

There might be some actors in this film you might recognize, but no-one you’d care to. The best actors tell a story. This batch blabbed lullabies. If yawning were art, this pic drew Rembrandts.

Hey, any of you ever see a Jerusalem cricket? They’re in this movie for some reason. Found them occasionally in some of the parks that were my occasional abode. Big, honkin, gnarly looking things. Good eating too. Neither crickets, nor from Jerusalem, they’re nothing a pair of Doc Martens won’t cure.

I think there is a semi-original thought in “The Unborn.” This one’s about a Jewish exorcism. The bad guy looks like that little kid in “The Omen,” and when the special effects budget allows, a whole bunch of other things, none memorable. As this golem thingy becomes badder, its eyes become bluer. My eyes turn blue when writing this column, it’s so bad.

The little bad guy shows up in more places than zits on a prom queen. A bug-eyed, malevolent, needy twerp, if he were my kid, I’d definitely show him the sights in Nebraska.

Rabbi Chowderheadsteinowitz and a rambling assortment of faith-based clowns from Exorcisms R Us throw everything including the book at this ne’er-do-well. Try some chicken soup next time.

Meanwhile the thunder crashes, the rain falls and the wind, as does the movie, blows.

You’ve got a diaper clad codger, and in a special appearance, one of Michael Vick’s dogs, both performing rather ineffectual Linda Blair impressions.

Apple’s laptops are prominently displayed; they should sue for negative product placement.

Letting no cliché be unturned, (hey wasn’t that a cliché?), “The Unborn” drops piles of pabulum while building molehills of mediocrity (whoa, alliteration overload).

It’s hard to think of a movie “The Unborn” didn’t sample from: “Night of the Living Dead,” “The Shining,” and, of course, “The Omen” and “The Exorcist.” It’s a bigger joke than anything told in front of a brick wall at the Improv.

The ending? There’s a sequel coming. Pray for meteor strikes, global warming, space aliens, electromagnetic pulses, methane burps, anything that can return us to the dark ages before part two arrives.

UNCLE DON reviews B-rated movies and cheesy musical acts for the Daily Pilot. He can be reached by e-mail at reallybadwriting@yahoo.com.