Every once in a while we get together with some friends and watch something either intentionally funny or something so bad it’s hilarious. We’ll eat bad food and maybe have some drinks, and it’s always a fun time. Last night we were presented with a downloaded copy of “Lost Boys: The Tribe.” Critter and I had no idea that a sequel had been made, but later we learned it’s a direct-to-video title scheduled to come out on July 29. So we decided to watch it, just out of curiosity, because the original was kinda fun. We had our Thai veggie pizza and vodka drinkies ready for anything.
So how was it? Well, let me put it this way…
Piece. Of. Shit. A steaming glob of chunky baboon vomit. A fetid pile of maggot-ridden dingo links. A stinky, crusty crack whore who barged into the room and spat in our faces. Sorry, am I being too vague? Not since “Battlefield Earth” have we seen anything so laughably, painfully craptacular. It must have been written by a 13-year-old and acted by drooling, homeless retards they found squatting in abandoned warehouses. No, I take that back — even squatters are better actors!
Now, I don’t think the first movie was a masterpiece, unlike most other people who spent their teen years in the 80’s, but this “sequel” has none of the humor or fun of the original. It tries desperately to be edgy and badass and scary, but it’s more like limp sausage than anything. It does have Corey Feldman in it, with an impossibly deep and gritty Rambo voice, but his performance is pathetic and embarrassing. If the movie didn’t take itself so deadly seriously, he could have been a great bit of camp…but he was just sad. I felt embarrassed for him. Poor Corey, it seems your career is now doomed to reality shows and shitty National Lampoon direct-to-video movies. Oh yeah, Corey Haim was in it for about 5 seconds during the credits. Why bother? This is basically a throwaway vampire flick based as loosely as possible on a 80’s cult hit. It didn’t even try to be decent entertainment, it just shat all over us and left.
The lead “villain” was probably the worst aspect of the movie: a perfect stereotypical douchebag sporting long, stringy hair and talking like a drunken surfer dude. Or maybe someone who never learned to read properly. Technically he was supposed to be a surfer, but why did he sound like he had brain damage? And yet we were supposed to be in fear and awe of him, because he’s, like, a vampire and stuff, and he, like, will kill you or something. It was the most un-scary villain I’ve seen since the TV version of Stephen King’s “It”. (Tim Curry as a scary clown? Were they kidding?) This surfer-vamp’s idea of an initiation ritual for new vampires is to ride on his douchy motorcycle with his douchy gang and do loud, noisy donuts in the parking lot of the police station. Wow, that’s intense! The other actors weren’t any better — it was a total douche-off from beginning to end.
Oh, and let’s not forget all the idiotic shit thrown in for the crotch-pawing mongoloid straight men who will be watching: plenty of bouncing tits (fake, no doubt), a shower sex scene, big-boobied girls running for their lives before being messily sucked to death, lots of roaring motorcycles, toolboys on surfboards trying to laugh like hyenas (because, you know, they’re so wild and crazy), and the worst imitation of AC/DC music I’ve ever heard. AC/DC themselves are cringe-inducing enough to me, but Jesus Christ, people! Put down your guitars and look into other careers. The blessedly non-musical world of fast food beckons.
Having said all that, we did enjoy the film’s inept crapulence and had fun tossing out snarky comments, but in between our loud outbursts of disgust, Critter and I kept looking at each other in open-mouthed shock. How do films like this get made? Who bankrolls them? Who reads these scripts and says, “Well now, that’s something worth committing to film!” I think we should start holding these people responsible for filling store shelves with such trash. For the record, this movie was written by Hans Rodionoff (check out his other films and his role in this makes perfect sense) and directed by P.J. Pesce who apparently needed something to do. You two are to blame, you didn’t even try to make a decent film. I demand reparations.
So if you were planning to see this movie because you loved the original, you’ve been officially warned! Do not watch this with any intention of being entertained in any meaningful way. Have plenty of liquor and greasy take-out food on hand, and expect to find yourself lobbing insults at the screen in self defense.