Bad Movies Beware!
Another Yuletide film to fill us all with holiday cheer!
Well, at least I tried to find a silver lining.
I did some digging early on while trying to find this movie, and it turns out I went looking too early. It showed up on Amazon Prime Instant Video pretty shortly after I’d given up and opted for Krampus: The Reckoning.
Of course, since Grumpy Cat’s Worst Christmas Ever was really the worst Christmas flick I’d watched so far, and Krampus was unexpectedly (and disappointingly) good, I had to see what weird stain I could find on the walls in the Amazon library. Sure enough, this s**t show of a film popped up like a dead hooker with a high-tension spring in her back and a truckload of cocaine in her sinuses.
What makes this underwear skid-stain so special? Real talk, people: I couldn’t finish it the first go-round. I had to force myself to sit down and finish this movie. It was that bad. And I had to take a day or two just to wrap my head around the fact that I was committing intellectual suicide by forcing this Awful Waffle on my sensitive psyche.
This goopy steaming turd opens with Sheriff Sam from the first film in his therapy session. He recaps the entire first film to his shrink, who is laughing hysterically at him. The shrink recommends a getaway to take Sam’s mind off of the encounter with Jack, the Mutant Killer Snowman who terrorized Sam’s hometown of Snowmonton.
Anne, Sam’s wife, decides to go along with the idea of a trip to the Caribbean. Along for the ride are Joe and Marla, Sam’s deputy and secretary, respectively. These two plan to get married in the tropics with Sam and Anne as witnesses. Sam can’t shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong, though his suspicions get chalked up to PTSD.
Meanwhile, the FBI digs up Jack’s remains, which isn’t much more than a few canisters of antifreeze. They take the stuff back to the lab to experiment on it and find out why Jack became a mutated snowman in the first place. A janitor accidentally spills coffee into the tank, and Jack is reborn with a thirst for revenge that leads him directly to the island where Sam and his crew are staying.
Back at the island, the Colonel introduces Bobby the Jamaican Stereotype to the pile of meat bags that have just shown up as if we’re supposed to give a fat rat’s oversized ass-cake about any of them. Let me sum it up: we have flaked-out cheerleader numbers 1, 2, and 3 (Blonde, Brunette, Redhead, we’ll call them), The supermodel and her gay photographer, Cindy (the only reason anyone remembers her name is because she gets naked in the film later on as part of her death scene), and our group from Snowmonton.
There’s more fodder on the bus, but they’re pretty much just extras looking for pizza and the free t-shirt for being in the movie. I mean, really. They could’ve saved a lot of time in the movie by just calling them Meat Bag 1, 2, and 3.
Sam gets the heebie-jeebies as soon as he steps foot off the bus, but his concern gets waved off and ignored by the others. Out on the surf, two characters who have absolutely NOTHING to do with the film are afloat in a raft. Jack attacks and kills both of them.
Joe and Marla are having the time of their lives, and Anne spends her time trying to get Sam to loosen up. During the party that evening, Blonde, Brunette, and Redhead hit the beach with two idiot jocks (Let’s call them Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumbass). The jocks agree to meet them out by the campfire, and the girls bicker over who gets to sleep with who. Brunette heads off alone to grab firewood. Jack tries to drop razor-sharp icicles on her, but keeps missing. He eventually turns into a giant snow anvil and crushes her.
Redhead and Blonde get worried about Brunette, and Redhead goes to look for her. Jack raises a bed of spikes and trips her up causing her to fall and impale herself. Blonde grabs a pair of tongs, and Jack steals them and stabs her in the eyes with them.
Why so much detail?
Because these are the only kills in the movie worth a damn.
The Colonel and Bobby discover the bodies the next morning, and Agent Manners shows up to assist. In case you don’t remember (and why would you?), Manners was the FBI agent in the first film that lost his eyeball to Jack. He’s head of island security now and just as gung-ho. Sam shows up, and the three stooges try to cover up what’s going on. The Colonel calls a staff meeting and instructs everyone to keep it quiet until the supply ship shows up in the morning. The phone lines are down, so calling the authorities is a no-go.
Manners tracks down Sam and fills him in on what’s happening. He and his partner, Captain Fun (I’m not kidding), are concerned that the three murders on the beach are just the beginning.
Oh, God, this movie is DRAGGING.
Skipping to turning point in the film because reasons.
Cindy decides to go skinny-dipping in the pool. Jack shows up and freezes the pool over, drowning her in the process. He then causes a major snowstorm on the island. Sam and Anne are alarmed, but the rest of the vacationers and staff see nothing wrong and continue partying. Jack shows up and starts killing with reckless abandon. Joe, Marla, Anne, and Sam hole up in the apartment. Once things quiet down, they leave and run into the Colonel, Bobby, and Manners.
Sam explains that the only way to stop Jack is antifreeze. They find drums of it in the storage building and set a trap for Jack. Jack shows up to kill Sam and falls into the fountain, which is now slam-full of antifreeze. He melts, everyone is happy, including me. Because this movie is over…
Oh, God… it still has a little over twenty minutes.
Jack comes back. Turns out, antifreeze just stings him now. He pukes up a snowball and leaves in a hailstorm of lame-assed CGI. The group takes the snowball and hides in the kitchen to try and figure out what went wrong. In the meantime, the snowball hatches and turns into a Snow Kid. At this point, if you’ve seen Critters, you know how this plays out. The snowball attacks, and they trap it in a blender and try to kill it with zero success.
Sam’s sanity goes bye-bye, and Anne takes charge. She heads out to search for more survivors so she can warn them (because the massacre at the party apparently wasn’t indication enough that some wacky s**t is going down, I guess), and has an encounter with more Snow Kids. She unwittingly spills a mixed drink on one, and he explodes in a storm of bloody snow.
Anne takes the drink back to Bobby, who tells her that it’s essentially a banana daiquiri. It clicks with Anne that Sam and Jack are linked, which is how Sam knew Jack was coming. Turns out that Sam’s blood got into the antifreeze, and his DNA merged with Jack’s. Sam is also deathly allergic to bananas.
Yes. The only way to stop the mutant killer snowman rampaging across the tropical island is to exploit his new allergy to bananas. This is what I get for jumping down this f**king rabbit hole.
The survivors load their super-soakers with banana puree and go on the hunt, wiping out every Snow Kid they come across. Manners gets ambushed and killed off by the Snow Kids, and Jack takes his revenge out on the Colonel and Bobby before turning on Anne and trapping her. He encases her inside himself, but Sam snaps out of his crazy and fires an arrow with a banana on the end of it at Jack. Jack explodes, and Anne is safe.
The End. The glorious, long-awaited, wonderful end.
Dear God, my smart hurts.
VERDICT: They couldn’t find coal, so they used dog s**t.
Watching this movie is the equivalent of s**tting a habanero-covered cactus after a bender at the taco truck. Of all the stupid-dumbass ideas… CHRIST. I believe I may have actually gotten spatter material all over me from the stupid dripping off this movie like a wet fart off a plumber’s rubber overalls.
Off the bat: the acting is horrendous. The first film was played straight, and the effect worked well. The actors had to know that they were in what was possibly the goofiest movie to ever smear the brown stuff on the shelves in the video store circa 1997, but they played it with a serious tone and let the humor show in the dialogue and writing. It worked fairly well with minimal issues.
This pile of garbage, on the other hand, is a different story altogether. The actors ham it up for the camera, playing their roles on more of a cartoon scale. I don’t know if it was because they didn’t want to do the movie, or if it was also because of the lazy-assed writing, but the performances from every actor made almost every character in the movie unlikable on the whole, save for Bobby. Tai Bennett embraces his character’s stereotype and goes balls to the wall with it, making his performance the only one that really stands out.
On the writing, well, I think I pretty much summed it up in the last paragraph. The story is shoved along like a camera flex-rod during a rectal exam, forcing the characters to move from one situation to another with no real rhyme or reason other than to make sure that they get there.
“Oh, we have to warn the others!”
Anne, every guest on the island saw a mutant killer snowman go apes*t and kill people at the island snow luau. I’m pretty sure they know. Plus, the movie is BORING. Dude, you’re making a movie about a mutant killer snowman. How the hell do you make it boring?!
The cinematography… well, let’s be blunt: the movie looks like a porno. I half-expected the characters to start boning in every scene. The lighting was neutral as hell, which is typically seen in any given casting couch or college coed video you can find on the Internet. It’s as if the director said, “No studio will touch this piece of s**t movie I want to make, but I got us a camcorder and Gramps said we could use the house for the weekend!” Plus, the original film used practical effects. This movie goes for some CGI with Jack, but it fails epically and ends up looking like Claymation done with gelatinized horse semen.
I’m slapping this one with the full six Piles of S**t. I’d love to say that there’s anything even remotely redeeming about this dog turd, but even the gratuitous nude scene doesn’t do a damn thing to keep this one from running down the indie-film industry’s leg. All this movie manages to do is stick a carrot up the ass of the viewer with all the grace and kindness of an angry rabid squirrel looking for acorns in an old man’s pant leg.