Velocity Trap (1999) with Olivier Gruner is trash.

Don’t watch it.

Not that you were going to—nobody’s talking about this movie, and it’s been collecting dust since the late ’90s. But I’ll tell you why I did.

I’ve got a soft spot for ’90s B-movie sci-fi. They’re clunky, full of cheap CGI, and yet somehow charming. And I like Olivier Gruner. Legit world kickboxing champ, turned action star. When he’s got the right choreography, the guy shines. (Nemesis proves it.)

But Velocity Trap? Nope. This thing sells itself as “Die Hard in space.” Gruner plays disgraced cop Ray Stokes, who gets stuck guarding a cargo ship with 40 billion universal dollars onboard. Why physical cash? Supposedly hackers got so good at stealing digital money that the galaxy reverted to hauling giant vaults of hard currency. And the banks? Oh, they’ve got unbeatable automated guns that make theft impossible—until a crew of pirates just… hacks the guns. Brilliant foresight there.

On paper, it’s a fun setup. Space heist, cryosleep crew, a lone hero fending off robbers while drifting through a dangerous corridor called the Velocity Run. You even get fake commercials in the opening, straight out of RoboCop. The bones of a pulpy classic are all here.

But wow, the execution. The acting? Wooden. Everyone sounds like they were dragged out of a coma and shoved in front of a camera. Gruner spends half the runtime dancing to opera and microwaving meals while the “bad guys” chew through dialogue that makes community-theater sound polished.

And the production? It looks worse than a burned VCD bootleg. Supposedly 86 minutes, but it drags like it’s twice as long. The framerate is ugly, the visuals scream bargain-bin CGI, and the whole thing feels cheaper than late-night UPN filler. Critics weren’t kind either—Rotten Tomatoes, IMDb reviews, Letterboxd—everyone calls it predictable, shallow, and painful to sit through.

Yes, a couple of fans argue the world-building and VFX are “surprisingly ambitious for the budget.” But when the best praise you can muster is “well, the fake commercials were neat,” you know it’s a dud.

Skip it. Unless you’re the type who watches paint dry for entertainment—because honestly, paint at least dries with more emotion than these performances.

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