You’re Next Quickie

Dude, Kevin is gonna fuck you’re shit up. Be warned.

Nostalgia is a powerful thing. For instance, I grew up addicted to Home Alone. I watched that fucking movie so many times I wore out the VHS tape. Yes, I’m that old. And, also yes, you can go fuck yourself. Any-who, I decided to re-watch that bitch the other day. Didn’t. Hold. Up. It’s just a fucking mess of clichés and easy gags. And I found myself thinking, “Dude, they should update this for adults now. Throw in some excessive violence. Maybe a tit or two. And blood. Lots and lots of blood.” And, guess what, the Gods of Hollywood heard my prayer and sent me You’re Next.

So, yeah, no real reason to get too detailed. As the last paragraph states, You’re Next is basically the most violent and radical Home Alone ripoff but instead of a precocious little boy the lead is this bad ass chick with an accent. She’s rad and knows how to murder a shit ton of dudes.

One of the many reasons I get major wood for horror is because it is a fairly egalitarian genre. Man. Woman. It doesn’t really matter. If they don’t have the skills to survive, they’ll die. You’re Next is a prime example. One by one people get picked off simply because they don’t know what the fuck they’re actually doing in a horror situation.

But the lead chick, man, she’s something else. She sets up booby traps and shit. Violent ones with axes and nails and shit. And, boom, she let’s shit rip. It’s a nice little twist on the old horror genre and it’s fucking fun as shit to watch.

Grade: B+



This is how hard you’ll scream in this movie.

Dudes, I’m writing this from my closet from my couch. I’m not trapped in it or anything, fuck R. Kelly. No, it just seems like the safest place in my house right now after watching Sinister.

I know, I know, I should be a fucking man. Go out there and kill some monsters or whatever. I don’t care right now. Sinister fucked my shit up didn’t scare me at all, man. Honestly, I haven’t had a flick freak me out so much since Blair Witch. Yet, interestingly enough, I’m not sure if it was a good movie, by technical standards. And, on the other hand, do I even give a shit if it fulfilled it’s job at scaring me?

Cause, pretty much every genre starts with a promise, the good ones at least. Action movies will pump you up. Romantic comedies will make you swoon. Comedies will make you laugh. And, hopefully, horror films will make you piss your pants. Sinister kind of throws out plot in favor of making you scared shitless mildly frightened, and I think I’m ok with that.

The movie is about a family that moves into a new house. Mr. Ex-Uma Thurman is the father who finds a bunch of tapes in the attic. The tapes are full of inventively violent murders. That’s pretty much it. I mean, sure, there’s the mystery of WHO or WHAT made the tapes. But pretty much it’s just Mr. Ex-Uma Thurman sitting in a room and watching people die.

That’s why I have to be a little, and I do mean very little, hard on the plot. Yes, I get it, the film is playing on the whole found footage fad that most horror films thrive on these days. It’s pretty clever but, ultimately, the film IS basically just a dude watching movies in a room.

But, fuck, those movies are freaky as shit, yo. Why the hell else would I be holed up in a closet  on my couch peeing my pants acting like a manly stud with six pack abs?

It’s almost like watching a haunted house. You know there’s no real redeeming qualities to it. But it still thrills you when a boogy-man jumps out at you and scares you shitless only slightly frightens you. You pay to be frightened. I didn’t walk in there to see Shakespeare.

And I feel like that’s what genre movies come down to: fulfill your promise and I won’t hate you. You’re a comedy? Make me laugh! You’re an action movie? Make me want to punch a hole in the wall with manly aggression, EEEEAARRRGGGGG!!!! A horror movie? Make me want to sneak into my mother’s bedroom be really manly like a boss.

Grade: A Not At All Frightened B