Sporting a title that’s certainly half accurate, Matty reckons navigating 19th century Whitechapel would be better than watching this dreadful Ripper-inspired psycho-thriller.

The first of two Jack the Ripper flicks — both by men called John — designed to ride the coattails of 20th Century Fox’s lavish period romp, From Hell (2001), BAD KARMA boasts the dual distinction of being the final directorial assignment of John Hough and, alas, completely awful. 

Occupying a fascinating middle ground between journeyman and auteur, the London born Hough is best known for Biggles (1986) and Dirty Mary Crazy Larry (1974) — though his most enduring work is in the horror genre, with Twins of Evil (1972); The Legend of Hell House (1973); Incubus (1981); American Gothic (1987); the flawed but interesting Howling IV: The Original Nightmare (1988); and Disney-backed cult favourite Watcher in the Woods (1980) to his credit. An experienced TV director to boot, Hough tackled Saucy Jack in an episode of iconic ‘60s show The Avengers, Fog (S7, E24), and, while researching, stumbled upon a theory that the Ripper had a female accomplice. Naturally, Hough was excited to return to the notion when exec producer Mark L. Lester tapped him up for Bad Karma.     

Nestled among a run of horror-thrillers assembled at the turn of the millennium under his American World Pictures banner (the others: Blowback (2000), Sacrifice (2000), Devil’s Prey (2001), Wisher (2002), and the sadly unmade ‘Life Without Joe’ which was going to be steered by Limp Bizkit frontman Fred Durst, a full eighteen years before The Fanatic (2019)), Lester planned to shepherd Bad Karma himself and cast leads Patrick Muldoon and Patsy Kensit. Retrospectively, that’s the film’s ultimate problem. Watching it there’s a strong sense that Lester didn’t want to relinquish the reins at all, and the whole thing reeks of behind-the-scenes turmoil and interference. Blunt cutting, herky-jerky pacing, a fluctuating tone, moments and sequences that feel out of place or wedged in… Of especially chronic note is Bad Karma’s tacked-on opening. Overseen by another helmer (presumably Lester) and featuring an uncredited Damian Chapa (his second of three Lester joints) and Page 3 girl turned softcore starlet Zoe Paul (as a young Kensit despite bearing no physical resemblance to her whatsoever, beyond blonde hair), it’s a lame, shoddily done prologue cynically added to increase the film’s T&A quota. 

Indeed, the vision as detailed by Hough in the pages of Fangoria #207, shortly after Bad Karma wrapped its six week shoot in October/November 2000, doesn’t match what else is on screen either. Absent is any kind of suspense, mystery, entertainment, or — as usually evidenced in even Hough’s weakest shockers — style. Instead this painful slog is personified by the ineptitude that laces its Victorian flashbacks: rubbish blocking, rubbish wigs, rubbish costumes, and rubbish Pan Atlantic cock-er-ney accents. Even the dry ice machine used to generate the obligatory London smog seems to be on the blink.

An adaptation of Douglas Clegg’s 1997 novel of the same name, Bad Karma’s plot — expanded by Lester regular Randall Frakes — finds a modern day psychiatrist (the lifeless Muldoon) getting stalked by a patient (a wildly OTT Kensit, then in the midst of divorcing Oasis singer Liam Gallagher) who’s convinced that shrinky-poo is the reincarnation of her long dead lover (Jack the Ripper of course). It was lensed in and around Galway, primarily at the studio Roger Corman set up in Kinvara during his Irish tax break years, and was released on U.S. video and DVD — as ‘Hell’s Gate’ — by Artisan Entertainment on 23rd July 2002. Amusingly, the company that went on to purchase Artisan, Lionsgate, issued From Hell’s second cash-in, John Eyres’ superior — if still not brilliant — Ripper (2001), on American tape and disc six months prior.

USA ● 2001 ● Thriller ● 89mins

Patsy Kensit, Patrick Muldoon, Amy Locane ● Dir. John Hough ● Wri. Randall Frakes, based on the novel Bad Karma by Douglas Clegg