Back in June, Uwe Boll, the much-pilloried director of inept, video-game-based filmed entertainments (and, perhaps most damningly, a movie in which Tara Reid starred as a genius anthropologist), challenged a handful of his most vocal detractors to a public boxing match, promising that scenes from the fights would later be incoherently edited into future masterwork Postal. On Saturday night, the pugilistic director finally engaged his predictably glass-jawed critics in the much-anticipated fisticuffs up in Vancouver, utilizing his long-bottled rage to quickly dispatch all four combatants with a flurry of hacky fists. There's video of the melee above (via Ain't It Cool's report), and after the jump, the Defamer Special Correspondent on Runaway Bloodsport Production offers a blow-by-blow of the event. Enjoy.

The gates of hell were opened Saturday night around the Plaza of Nations in Vancouver, BC. Uwe "Raging" Boll - director/producer of masterpieces like Seed, House of the Dead, BloodRayne, vs. four of his harshest movie critics, next door to a Mariah Carey concert.

We didn't understand at first what was about to unfold, as there was a genuine panic over the fact that alcohol was not being served, a problem solved by running into the new casino next door and then back to see the carnage..

The crowd - a peculiar mix of people swelling with joy and anxiety...those with real concern for Uwe (basically the crew from

Postal, Seed, etc.) screaming UWE UWE UWE, a table of shiny intoxicated Britelight Producers (the Vancouver Production company responsible for harbouring Uwe) showed embarrassed support, offset by a real crowd of spectators there to, you know, see real, professionally trained fighters respectfully beat the crap out of each other after this "opening entertainment."

It didn't take long for us to realize he had charmed Jeff Sneider (Ain', Chris Alexander of Rue Morgue magazine, Richard "Lowtax" of and Nelson Chance Minter into the ring with shiny promises of publicity as a cover to actually take serious shots to their heads.

Uwe barely managed a smile as the intros were made and more verbal criticism was bravely thrown down. Ding Ding round one. Boll was indeed there to seek some feral payback and any hope of playful petting was lost in the eyes of his critics - they had to take their punches now like men.

The situation quickly sank into a surreal bully vs geek schoolyard brawl. Jeff and the boys may be verbally and intellectually superior, but Uwe is bigger and it seems outside of the happy endings in bloodless Hollywood movies, the bully wins and nerds live to write the screenplay about it.

After the first few steady punches to the head on critic number one - it was over. Technical knockout...what?? That was maybe two minutes. I could barely get high off the rush. Before I could metabolize the joy fight two had begun and, of course, a few swishy dance moves around the ring and whack, critic two (I've long lost the memory of names - Monday morning disease ) sways, unsteadily stumbling like a Mariah bobble toy...knock out number two... These guys were getting hurt for real - at this point I closed my eyes like a bitch and went to my happy place.

Opened my eyes to flashes of blood spewing from face of nerdy critic three. Outside Sneider was barfing all over our glorious Canadian soil.

Had my eyes on all the cameras and webcasts for the fleeting moment fight four was on. The pain was short. Stifling sly arrogance, Uwe leaves the ring satisfied to have proved something. I don't know what, but I'd watch it again.