Well, you can't say the title isn't honest. This movie is violent, and it's s**t.
A little boy named Karl kills his mom. He grows up to be a serial killer. He kills people. Eventually, Karl has a seizure (or something), dies, and then some sort of monster-baby crawls out of his dead body. Yeah. Oh, did I forget to mention the bizarrely metaphorical scene in which Karl sees Jesus on the cross (I think), opens up Jesus's belly, and crawls inside? Well, I wish I had forgotten it. I wish I had never decided to see this movie. After it was over, I felt I had to beg God for forgiveness for spending any of the precious time He gave me to watch this. The only other movie I've seen bad enough to provoke that kind of reaction was Exterminator 2. Violent s**t is seriously the kind of movie that you can use to define your life, as in, "Boy, I remember how happy and carefree I was until Violent s**t. Those were better days." Writer/director/most everything else Andreas Schnaas surely has some sort of special place reserved for him in Bad Movie Hell ... if he's not actually a demon sent by the Bad Movie Devil in the first place, that is.
There is exactly one (1) kind of good thing about this movie, and I think it was done by accident. In the opening scene when Karl is a child, he uses a cleaver to chop up his mom. When he's an adult, he's still got a cleaver, only this time it's absurdly huge. It's funny to imagine it's the same cleaver, grown up with him as if it were his pet.