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A group of American tourist kids want to follow a German guy who tries to find his brother, apparently lost on the quest to an archeological site in Mexico. When arriving at the site, a green hill in the middle of the the woods, the locals will not let them go anymore. The kids realise they are in very deep trouble when they find the remains of previous visitors on the hill.

This needs to be very short in order not to insult the Gods for waste of energy and abuse of lifetime: the book (even though praised highly on the cover and sold in millions) is rubbish, a boring depiction of events leading to many people’s ghastly deaths. The film is even more boring, because… what do I care? Because it’s even more boring. The shlock effects of pocket-knife leg amputations and hungry vine (or whatever grass) eating its way through the unwelcome visitors are of the “if I don’t know how to thrill, I just gross out” category masterfully described by Stephen King in “Danse Macabre”, and one wonders continually why one should care. One does not.

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