If you notice a rancid stench coming from your local video store, if it isn’t the six-year-old Twizzlers rotting on the clearance rack, chances are it’s CrossBones. This film manages the dubious achievement of being both dull and offensive at the same time. Black stereotypes abound, from the blood-thirsty natives to the profane hip-hop street guy (named Greedy G, for Christ’s sake) to the bitchy, attitude-to-spare black gal (finger snaps optional). Not surprisingly, both end up dead. They won’t be missed.
As is often the case with horror films, there’s a curse brought about by wronged mystical darkies, the result here being a lame undead pirate who looks like someone’s drunk uncle scouring the family reunion for a child to molest. To add injury to insult, the acting, plot, dialogue, makeup, direction and probably the catering tray are all abysmal. (You know that you’re in for a long film when the two most recognizable actors are both ex-reality TV stars.)