Date Movie Disaster Movie is about what you’d expect, namely the highest form of pain allowed under law without a proper anesthetic. In fact, I’d be willing to suggest that, had James Frey written in his memoir that he’d sat through its entirety without an arsenal of painkillers, no one would’ve believed him in the first place, saving us all from Oprah’s confrontational antics, a series of editorials on the truth of fiction (where is Hunter Thompson when you need him), and countless Scary Movie-style parodies that have erupted on these very Internets. The only allusion missing from Date Movie Disaster Movie is a welcome homage to Final Destination, in which the director, those two-out-of-the-six writers of Scary Movie, and the entire cast have their heads pumped full of Silly Putty until the entire production ends in an explosive confetti of “Beetle Bailey” newsprint and brain matter.
No matter how low your expectations for
Epic Movie Disaster Movie are, reduce them by at least 90 percent. Really, think of the worst movie you’ve ever seen. Now take away any redeeming qualities. Now take away any element that was esthetically neutral. Now add in the most painful moments from the 10 next-worst movies you can think of. That’s what Epic Movie Disaster Movie would be if it were a hell of a lot better than it is. I never laughed, not once.
Parody films are meant to call attention to the inherent ridiculousness of many genre tropes, to make light of conventions we’ve somehow come to accept as normal facets of the film-going experience. Or, failing that, they’re supposed to make us laugh.
Meet the Spartans Disaster Movie does neither. Imagine the way you feel when the office maladroit recites his favorite racist joke to you in the bathroom and you can get a comparative idea of what it was like watching Seltzer and Friedberg try to make a coherent comedy. It isn’t funny, instead filling you with pity and disgust, and everyone involved is somehow diminished by the experience.
Thus we arrive at the critic’s problem in writing about a film like
Scary Movie 4 Disaster Movie: When you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas. I could work myself into a tizzy about how lame the shit-and-piss jokes are, but I’d wind up dealing in the same debased, exhausted material that the filmmakers do. I’d like to write a funny review about how terrible Scary Movie 4 Disaster Movie is, but it’s not really terrible — just stupid and pointless — and everything it offers has already been mocked to death. Why jump on the bandwagon now?
So, I’m asking nicely: Stop it. Just fucking stop it. Don’t make anymore of these goddamn movies. None. The only thing left, anyway, is a motherfucking spoof of spoof movies, which would be like watching yourself look at yourself in a mirror, which would probably cause a flatulent rip in the space/time continuum, and we’d all be sucked into a wet fart that’d smell vaguely of Matthew McConaughey’s underarms and Perez Hilton’s swamp-ass.
This is how bad it’s gotten: It’s not even three of the five writers of Scary Movie anymore. It’s one of the eight guys who wrote Scary Movie 3, for fuck’s sake. Drink my shit-milkshake, pisswad. I’m begging you,
Craig Mazin, David Zucker, Jason Freidberg, Aaron Seltzer, you anus-brained fucknut(s). Quit it, or I will come to your house club you with a baby seal. They’re not funny, and the only people who think they are (the ones who, invariably, will hand Superhero Movie Disaster Movie a $20 opening weekend) shouldn’t be allowed to breed — they should be rounded up, stuffed into the ass end of a donkey suit, and crammed — along with Tyler Perry and the cast of “Laguna Beach/The Hills” — into a crag in Amy Winehouse’s face and be spackled over with the fat of Dan Fogler’s left butt cheek.
Dustin Rowles is the publisher of Pajiba. He lives in Portland, Maine. You can reach him via email, or leave a comment below.
Portions of this review were also written by Phillip Stephens and Jeremy C. Fox.
Disaster Movie / Dustin Rowles
Film | August 29, 2008 | Comments ()