'Hollaback' was once the most famous comic in the world. His name was even in rap songs. He made Eminem look like MC Hammer. He was on the top of his game. But, as we all know, the brightest star burns the quickest. Now Hollaback has to ask to work back up in a rinky dink club. His material is dated. He no longer has what it takes. But there's a twist to this sordid tale. Someone doesn't like that Holla is a wash up. The same person doesn't appreciate that people don't like his act. These people are turning up dead. At first the sleazy club owner tries to play this up as a cutting edge thing. Risk your life to see the best comedy in town and hype like that. Of course, he doesn't like Holla either.

I really have to admit that a forty one year old bald guy is probably not the target audience for this film. The DVD lists a string of comedians that I have never heard of. Another thing is that I appreciate a wide array of humor. Most comedians make me laugh to some extent. I realize that Holla is not supposed to be funny. He does a good job of this. I believe in my very heart that he is not funny. But the rest of the comics? Aren't they supposed to be funny? They're not. The humor is non existent in a film that touts the fact that it's cutting edge comedy. The only cutting edge I found was that really thin part of the DVD case. You know the part where you pop it open. If you're not careful that could really leave a nasty slash.

And it's supposed to be a slasher flick where the identity of the killer is anonymous? The scene's we actually get of the killer remind me of the killer in Lucio Fulci's NEW YORK RIPPER, except that was a good movie. Anyway, a brain dead moron shouldn't take more than ten minutes to figure out who the killer is. In fact it was so obvious that I thought it was a red herring and that I could actually have been wrong. Nope. Dead on, solving a mystery that a retarded Agatha Christie would think is moronic.

And then there were the killings. A lot of red stuff and some blood soaked tissue paper to simulate gore. Nothing else. Usually, at this point, the director - or directors as is the case here, will abandon all hope and start parading the titties in front of the camera. No such luck. All I can think is that they must have thought they were doing a good job.

In a film where the main thrust, the concept is of the black comedy club, you expect a certain image on the screen. Unfortunately, we get the poorly shot on video quality. And the scenes in the comedy club are shot in a harsh light where typically such performances are done in a dark smoky club. I can only guess that they didn't have the lighting expertise to accomplish this effect. The sound is just as off with bad quality that makes many of the performances incoherent.

To help solve this particular puzzle I went to the DVD extras. The directors are the brotherly team of John and Mark Polonia. The duo that brought us drek like THE HOUSE THAT SCREAMED 2. Watching the extras I realized that these guys were morons. They had made a few low budget flicks and thought they were something else. And not to make this a racist remark but, what do a couple of carbon copy brothers from outer suburbia know about street smart comedy? What made them think they could pull this off? Beats me, but they failed miserably. And I wonder if Big Poppa Pump from the WWE can sue them for twisting his tagline, "Holla If Ya Hear Me!" I certainly hope so. Maybe it'll yank this crap from the rental shelves.