WHAT THE MONSTER TAUGHT ME: Typically, piñatas are meant to be filled with candy and not the tormented souls of the damned.
THE CARD:
The Lost Tribe of Manboobs, Xander the Loxer, My Name is Jaime and I’m a D-Celebrity - Get me the hell out of this movie!, Ensign Kim still completely useless, more insults about Mexicans than a Minuteman picnic, liberal Predator theme lifting, a truly tasteless lynching joke, the worst piñata since my Dame Edna-themed 9th birthday party, Howard the Duck slummin’ it, and Hell Comes to Candyland.
More details here.
THE ANGLE:
It’s Cinco de Mayo and you know what that means: time for marine biologists to paaarrrrtaaayyyy! Yeah, well this certain group of butt-dumb Bio majors and frat douches pick the wrong the island to slam tequila and make jokes about tacos. Led by goofy Kyle (Nicholas Brendon) and smoking hot Tina (Jaime Pressly), this pack of drunken mischief-makers arrive on Demon Island (note to horny partiers: stay away from ANYTHING named “Demon”), home to a legend about some tubby tribe that imprisoned evil spirits inside clay piñatas. Yeah. But instead of cool Spiderman, Optimus Prime, or Rose McGowan, these piñatas are scary demons with spooky faces, sharp teeth, and intolerance for meddlin’ kids. Guffawing at silly indigenous culture, our plastered pals concoct a treasure hunt where they have to roam the island and collect as many piñatas as possible and maybe get high and bang each other every chance they get. Well, like my many Spring Break experiences, things turn ugly quick and someone ends up with their head in a lap, and not even in a good way. One of the dickhead frat guys messes around with a piñata short of putting his dick in it and releases the full terror of a bloody spade-wielding ceramic homunculus from Hell. But it will take more than a broken broom handle and your drunk uncle who can’t handle the piñata rope to control this papier-mâché rascal from claiming the candy that is your tequila-soaked innards.
THE FINISHER:
Piñata: Survival Island (aka Demon Island) has set new standards for me. One minute – 60 seconds if you are dumb - into this movie I was praying for an unbridled massacre of genocidal proportions to be unleashed upon these irritating characters. That’s gotta be a record. Okay, so you got a giant piñata hunting down stupid teens. Great. Some goofy gore, bad acting, and awful cheeseball effects. Good times for us bad movie lovers. We all laugh at the stupid dialogue and enjoy a chuckle at the poorly rendered CGI and laughable puppetry effects. Everything is fine and bad in B-movie Land. But this is where your pal El Tremendo pulls out his Typical Man card with his major complaint about the movie. Christ Almighty, you got a pre-My Name is Earl Jamie Pressly and she doesn’t even take her top off? Ridiculous! Speaking of which, Jamie is ludicrously hot. The movie also boasts two other former Playboy playmates who don’t even so much as expose their bellybutton. Come on, makers of piñata whoever the hell you are, what were you thinking? Brain smashing by a ceramic puppet = yes. Boobies = no? Huh? What a disgrace to the bulge-less pants of your fans and loyal viewers. Aside from this miscarriage of justice, Piñata: Survival Island isn’t very good, but good enough for a few chuckles with friends. That is, if your friends are straight women, Norcal wimps, or castrados.
THE CARD:The Lost Tribe of Manboobs, Xander the Loxer, My Name is Jaime and I’m a D-Celebrity - Get me the hell out of this movie!, Ensign Kim still completely useless, more insults about Mexicans than a Minuteman picnic, liberal Predator theme lifting, a truly tasteless lynching joke, the worst piñata since my Dame Edna-themed 9th birthday party, Howard the Duck slummin’ it, and Hell Comes to Candyland.
More details here.
THE ANGLE:
It’s Cinco de Mayo and you know what that means: time for marine biologists to paaarrrrtaaayyyy! Yeah, well this certain group of butt-dumb Bio majors and frat douches pick the wrong the island to slam tequila and make jokes about tacos. Led by goofy Kyle (Nicholas Brendon) and smoking hot Tina (Jaime Pressly), this pack of drunken mischief-makers arrive on Demon Island (note to horny partiers: stay away from ANYTHING named “Demon”), home to a legend about some tubby tribe that imprisoned evil spirits inside clay piñatas. Yeah. But instead of cool Spiderman, Optimus Prime, or Rose McGowan, these piñatas are scary demons with spooky faces, sharp teeth, and intolerance for meddlin’ kids. Guffawing at silly indigenous culture, our plastered pals concoct a treasure hunt where they have to roam the island and collect as many piñatas as possible and maybe get high and bang each other every chance they get. Well, like my many Spring Break experiences, things turn ugly quick and someone ends up with their head in a lap, and not even in a good way. One of the dickhead frat guys messes around with a piñata short of putting his dick in it and releases the full terror of a bloody spade-wielding ceramic homunculus from Hell. But it will take more than a broken broom handle and your drunk uncle who can’t handle the piñata rope to control this papier-mâché rascal from claiming the candy that is your tequila-soaked innards.
THE FINISHER:
Piñata: Survival Island (aka Demon Island) has set new standards for me. One minute – 60 seconds if you are dumb - into this movie I was praying for an unbridled massacre of genocidal proportions to be unleashed upon these irritating characters. That’s gotta be a record. Okay, so you got a giant piñata hunting down stupid teens. Great. Some goofy gore, bad acting, and awful cheeseball effects. Good times for us bad movie lovers. We all laugh at the stupid dialogue and enjoy a chuckle at the poorly rendered CGI and laughable puppetry effects. Everything is fine and bad in B-movie Land. But this is where your pal El Tremendo pulls out his Typical Man card with his major complaint about the movie. Christ Almighty, you got a pre-My Name is Earl Jamie Pressly and she doesn’t even take her top off? Ridiculous! Speaking of which, Jamie is ludicrously hot. The movie also boasts two other former Playboy playmates who don’t even so much as expose their bellybutton. Come on, makers of piñata whoever the hell you are, what were you thinking? Brain smashing by a ceramic puppet = yes. Boobies = no? Huh? What a disgrace to the bulge-less pants of your fans and loyal viewers. Aside from this miscarriage of justice, Piñata: Survival Island isn’t very good, but good enough for a few chuckles with friends. That is, if your friends are straight women, Norcal wimps, or castrados.
1 comment:
Wrong! Boobs or not - this movie was HILARIOUS!!!!!!!!!
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