The Contractor: F
Someone who loves Cape Fear but hates original ideas made this movie about a family of well-to-do white people, one of whom is a lawyer who looks like a malnourished Greg Kinear, who hire Danny Trejo to fix some stuff around their house. Trejo scowls a lot and so did I while watching this fucking excuse for a horror movie.
If you manage to maintain consciousness during the first fifteen minutes, you’ll figure out the entire conflict and “twist” of the movie and you can wave goodbye to any hope you had of being surprised/entertained. Trejo was wronged by Greg Kinear so he’s developed this crazy vendetta that inspires him to infiltrate the guy’s house with a plan to ruin his life.
You have to sit through several scenes of Trejo brooding over a computer creating counterfeit documents which he uses to incriminate Kinear and several scenes where literally nothing happens to further the plot.
The WASP’s figure out that something fishy is going on so they dismiss Trejo, who then starts aggressively stalking the family. I forget how many there were exactly, but I’m gonna guess there were five scenes where he hides in their bushes. There is a really out of place, really long scene where the family has some kind of fundraiser/party at their mansion which Trejo watches from afar.
Kinear sends some armed goons to rough up Trejo but, of course, he beats their asses.
Trejo is defeated; he gets no justice. There is some cartoonish running/hiding and the husband out-maneuvers and overpowers Trejo (who, again, dispatched two huge hired goons). I sincerely don’t remember how Trejo is stopped; I was looking at pictures on my phone of Mel Gibson all roided out.
The family of whites move from their mansion to another large home. Greg Kinear is wearing a sweater and he promises to spend more time with his family. The wife gets good news: That benefit dinner or whatever was really successful and some hospital is naming a wing after her. The daughter promises to use her asthma inhaler. They hug a lot and pose in front of their house/Lexus in a genuinely bizarre ending where the director mistakenly believes that the audience gives a modicum of a fuck about any of the characters.