It’s insulting. Unfunny. Blunt. It’ll leave a hell of a bitter taste in the mouths of general audiences and horror nuts alike.

Describing Melania as a documentary implies that there’s meaningful, thoughtful intention to its construction, which is very much not the case. Call it a document, instead, of 20 days in the First Lady’s life circa January 2025, with all the weight and depth of a Post-it.

It’s an unnecessary, monotonous, 102-minute scrapbook of better horror films that fails to muster even a spark of originality.

This wasn’t a movie, it was a boardroom meeting with some poor hapless dreamer strapped to the “directed by” credit like a keelhauled sailor punished for his idealism.

Hillary’s America is repugnant, and while it exists to get people who stand against it yelled at as much as anything, it’s essential that D’Souza not simply be written off as a hack pandering to a willing and lucrative audience regardless of the moral implications, though he is. D’Souza peddles the kind of “media” that’s become cancerous to the country he unyieldingly purports to worship.

Ultimately Fantasy Island’s four-for-the-price-of-one narrative and its excruciating hour-and-50-minute runtime doom it. The film is visually bland, lacks charismatic characters or interesting backstories, and long overstays its welcome with an egregiously protracted third act that feels interminable.

Shots are short, oddly made, and shoddily smashed together. There’s no spatial continuity, let alone consistency in time of day, or even a care for any kind of visual coherence. 13 Hours is just chaos. It’s unwatchable, unlikable, and unworthy of respect.

Everything’s so achingly foul and with zero finesse, which makes for an awful, joyless experience.