Welcome to this weekend's entry of "So I Logged Onto Netflix." Or, at least that is what cinema has become, save for the occasional drive-in or rental. Here the streaming giant celebrates Halloween early with "The Babysitter: Killer Queen," a strangely awful film that is utterly fascinating to watch. It fumbles at every baby step, from stale references that fail hard to be funny, from awry bursts of gore that shock only in their pure randomness.
Billed as a horror-comedy, this sequel to 2017's minor hit "The Babysitter" has co-writer and director McG returning with pretty much the entire cast. Now I should mention that I've never seen the original, but I don't think it matters. Nothing short of making an entirely different movie could save "The Babysitter: Killer Queen."
The setup this time is simple: Cole (Judah Lewis), haunted by the events of the first movie, tries to clear his mind by going on a boat trip with girl-who's-a-friend-but-not-a-girlfriend Melanie (Emily Alyn Lind). Then a cult gets involved, people aren't who they say they are, sex is had and many people die. Problem is that the wheels have already flown off by the time blood is first spilled.
The humor is the biggest flaw, which extends well beyond just dialogue. Cult members have their own uncomfortable "backstory" segment, wildly inappropriate music plays over pinnacle scenes- there is even a video game-style fight towards the end! Nothing is thrilling, exciting, new, original, fun or even remotely interesting, but it is certainly not intimidated to try something different.
It is all astonishingly deluded, like someone gave a group of really inspired filmmakers, gave them a modest budget and said ... "have it ready by Halloween." Their love shows onscreen, even if it's stupid, nasty, and sometimes mean, and you have to appreciate that. No one moment resembles another, and that's skill, even if it's used for all the wrong reasons.
So you watch with a sort of bemused obsession, in awe at how spectacularly misguided every moment is. For every serious exchange of words there is some lame or vulgar punchline lurking behind everyone's lips, you sit waiting with inexcusable anticipation for the next wrong-headed move. It's a bizarre feeling, a train wreck that just goes on and on but keeps finding new ways to wreck the train, and you just stare at the screen with intrigue. You want to hate it, you should hate it, you might think you hate it, and you probably do truly hate it, but good luck trying to turn it off before the credits roll.
Like a fat guy at a nude beach, it just lets it all hang out, ugly and all, but it's proud. It might be bad, but it definitely isn't timid.
No comments:
Post a Comment