The VelociPastor (2018)

The VelociPastor is the kind of gloriously unhinged midnight-movie miracle that doesn’t just accept its ridiculous premise—it sprints at it, arms wide, and somehow lands on its feet. Brendan Steere directs with a wink and a rocket strapped to it, mixing splattery horror beats, scrappy action, and gleefully dumb jokes into a vibe that feels like a B-movie sermon delivered with genuine conviction. Gregory James Cohan’s earnest, game performance is the secret sauce: the film works because it commits so hard to its own nonsense that you start cheering for it like an underdog in a bar fight. If you’re allergic to camp or want polished effects and straight-faced storytelling, this won’t convert you—but if you’re even slightly curious, it’s a deliriously entertaining ride that knows exactly what it is and loves being that.

The VelociPastor is trying to be a knowingly trashy, midnight-movie mashup of priest drama, kung-fu ninjas, and dinosaur mayhem, and it absolutely commits to that ridiculous premise. The problem is the joke often feels like it’s on repeat: the acting is intentionally hammy, the effects are proudly bargain-bin, and the plot lurches around like it’s making things up between takes. If you need your comedy to be sharp or your B-movie chaos to have real pacing and payoff, this will probably feel more annoying than hilarious. But if you enjoy “so bad it’s the point” energy, quick-and-dirty gore gags, and a film that winks at you the whole time, it can be a fun 70-ish minutes with the right crowd.