Grieving over the accidental death of his preggo wife (Nina Dobrev, TV’s The Vampire Diaries), paramedic David Lord (Kellan Lutz, those fucking Twilight movies) is tricked into a motel room by a full-frontal skank (an oft-naked Katia Winter), whereupon he is zapped, caged, tortured and brainwashed into becoming the Death Dealer. As such, he will take part in Death Games, a series of brutal battles broadcast over the Internet. It’s beloved the world over, but particularly by the frat douches of Psi Epsilon who cheer every kill.

These showdowns take place amid graphic overlays sporting samurai, gladiator and apocalyptic themes, and are the brainchild of GQ-dressed Logan (Samuel L. Jackson), the kind of rich guy who has Asian women on a giant swing behind his dining table. He’s so taken by the inexplicable victories of our Death Dealer, Logan agrees to let him take on the games’ hooded, ax-wielding Executioner (Johnny Messner, Running Scared), who beheads each round’s loser.

Lutz’s big emotional scene is hysterical, partly because of the bits of corn hanging out of his overstuffed mouth. Not that I think he can act; he can’t. The guy is all scowl. By contrast, we know Jackson can act; he just chooses not to. He’s clearly in his “whore for a paycheck” mode.

A mix of Death Race, The Condemned and the decade’s dozen other movies centered on televised murder matches, Arena is an unintentionally goofy garbage pail of an action flick. Yet if trash is what you’re hungry for, dive in. Jackson sure did — he chews so much fat in this thing, he could become Samuel XL Jackson. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.