Wednesday, November 23, 2005

So I've been watching an unhealthy number of teen horror flicks lately...

...and I can't imagine that kind of thing is good for my brain. In the past two months, I've rented such classic horror masterpieces as Boogeyman (starring that one guy from the WB show with the creepy Protestant family), Cursed (starring that one guy from the WB show with the rowboat), and, most recently, House of Wax (starring that one guy from the WB show with the bald basketball coach). Because these movies proved to be an unqualified and utter waste of my time, I will now subject their combined drivelocity unto you, my loyal fanbase.

Boogeyman is about a brooding fellow whose father was killed by the titular character in a flashback. This leads to a lifelong (read: 10 year) evidently justifiable fear of closets, though it seems to me that it should have led to a lifelong fear of Boogeymen, proximity to closests notwithstanding. This closetphobia turns out to be especially bothersome when Jack (or Steve or Allan or Gary or whoever) needs to retrieve his coat from a dark closet at a fancy cocktail party. Now, your more conscientious hostess would have taken Jack or Steve's distrust of closets into account and just thrown his jacket on the bed, but alas, no such luck for Jack or Steve.

By the way, that scene really does occur in the movie. And it is presented, in all seriousness, as a suspenseful moment.

What follows are a head-rattling number of lapses in logic, not the least of which is the fact that the widely-known Boogeyman of everyone's childhood nightmares seems to localize his reign of terror to a very small, rural Midwestern town in the United States. So, although he has no problem jumping from a closet in an old house (in this one town) to a closet in a seedy hotel (in this same town), the Boogeyman is curiously uninterested in travelling abroad. Or even out-of-state. It is never explained if these limitations are externally imposed on him or if the guy is simply a good old-fashioned xenophobic Heartlander.

Oh, and the Boogeyman can also leave closets. This seems to defeat the entire premise of closet-fearing on which the movie is ostensibly based, but I really don't care.

It should also be noted that there are exactly zero hot women in the entire film. This movie was a bust on all counts.

On to Cursed, a Wes Craven horror movie that once again proves the old adage: "Wes Craven likes to make horror movies." In this film, the teen terror formula is shaken up a bit by introducing a protagonist who, while still plenty broody, lacks a penis. No, not a eunuch. A woman. Or rather, child-woman Christina Ricci of Addams Family fame. If you like looking at Christina Ricci, er, have at it, hoss. If, like myself, you prefer the drool-inducing statuesque form of Shannon Elizabeth, well, you are officially shit out of luck. While featured prominently on the DVD casing, Miss Elizabeth lasts precisely 50 seconds onscreen. This is even allowing for the appearance of her name in the opening credit sequence. Sexy former hip-hop artist (current hip-hop artist? I honestly don't know/care) Mya also appears to help the menfolks' pants grow tighter, but she dies, too. END SPOILER.

I will give this movie credit for one thing and one thing only: the peripheral character I chose as the secret head werewolf -- oh, by the way, this movie's about werewolves. And latently homosexual high school athletes (Don't ask) -- turned out to be a convincing red herring. Before I got a chance to fully applaud this truly original turn of events, we find out that the secret head werewolf is the same damn guy everybody in the film has already told us is the secret head werewolf. This is stupid and disappointing and very, very stupid.

It's Pacey. There. I've saved you $3.99.

And finally, we have the recent and mind-bogglingly unnecessary remake of House of Wax. Most of you will be familiar with HoW as the movie in which society brain trust, Paris Hilton, "acts." For purposes of this review, "acts" in regards to Miss Hilton will be used in place of the far more appropriate but unwieldy phrase "is embarrassingly bad unless she's slutting around, at which point she is merely embarrassing."

Anyway, Paris acts. Now, for those of you who, like my abnormally gargantuan brother John, actually enjoy Paris Hilton's "work" (and from the neck down, I have no serious complaints), just fast forward about two-thirds of the way into the movie and watch the brief striptease she performs for her boyfriend (warning: he's black). For those of you who, like me, have eyesight, just fast forward two-thirds and five minutes of the way into the movie and watch the brief impaling Paris Hilton's head suffers on the business end of a sharpened pipe.

Fortunately, the lead character is the perfectly-shaped sex goddess Elisha Cuthbert from TV's 24. Her character is quickly forced to change into a tight-fitting, white-- yes, white -- tank top, so that obviously works out in everyone's best interests.

Oh, and the "good" twin brother at the wax museum is actually the "bad" twin brother. This "twist" is so astonishingly obvious and weak and completely unfollowed-through-with that I have spoiled nothing by divulging it to you. It's not even a real twist, like the fact that the roadkill-collecting truck driver is also their brother.

Oops.

I have to go.


CURRENT MOOD: Pre-Turkey Day jitters!

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2 Comments:

Blogger The Fourth Earl of Excelor said...

Now that you have cleared these cinematic smashes off of your to do list, you can move on to everybody's favorite: teen movies. I know that old Thos will back me up on the fact that Ten Things I Hate About You is a timeless classic. As for Paris Hilton, I think it is completely ludicrous to assume that Miss Hilton would not be a movie star if it weren't for her good fortune of inheriting a fortune. She has a charm and wit that is unmatched in Tinsel Town.

9:01 PM  
Blogger Chuckles O'Plenty said...

Actually, next on my list is action films starring people who shouldn't be legally allowed to act for a living. It reminds me of a brief but memorable period I went through when all I watched was Vin Diesel movies. And enjoyed them, my IQ regretfully admits.

1:32 PM  

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