Donnie Darko, The Breakfast Club, Scream, Back to the Future, Freaky Friday, Heathers, Christine, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (I think), She’s All That (probably), The Fly (?!?) — it’s probably easier to name the movies not referenced by Detention.

Luckily, this ain’t a parody à la the Seltzer/Friedberg “Insert Word Here” Movie production line of films which rank among humanity’s most awful crimes. Detention, rather, is barmy genius, an aggressive meta-mash of preposterous proportions that actually manages through vigor, intelligence and breakneck lunacy to be one of the most original teen movies of recent years. Think John Hughes via Crank, or an evil twin of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World.

You’ll likely require a master’s in film studies to catch every pop-culture reference hurled at the audience at lightning speed. This is a Twitter generation film, tailor-made for an ADHD-esque attention span, so there are no pauses for reflection, only forward momentum that could grow tiresome for some (or trigger epileptic seizures from the frenetic editing), but which I found a blast and three-quarters.

Plotwise, none of it makes much sense. There’s a Bueller-style character (Josh Hutcherson, The Hunger Games), a beautiful wallflower klutz (Shanley Caswell, The Conjuring), a spaz, a hottie, a football star devolving into a mutant flyboy, a student who has been in detention for decades and a principal who both out-evils Breakfast Club’s Paul Gleason and proves that “comedian” Dane Cook plays an unlikable douchebag far more effectively than he does likable ones. There’s also body-switching, time travel, psychotic killers … it’s almost all films ever made in one gloriously messy craze-rave of awesome.

I cannot say all will love it; if you aren’t at least somewhat versed in the language of the genre, you’ll find it well-nigh incomprehensible. If you get it, however, you’ll see the movie beneath the artifice, and the love behind the camera. To put it weirdly, the cynicism on display is infused with a remarkable lack of cynicism. If you can parse the paradox within that Möbius sentence, you’re the right audience for this. —Corey Redekop

Buy it at Amazon.

Look, either you find an infant with his head aflame funny, or you don’t. Same goes for a ghost sticking a toothbrush up a German Shepherd’s butt, drunken pool vacuums playing beer pong, and Ashley Tisdale humping a microwave oven. Against my better judgment, I do.

I cannot tell a lie: I like all of the entries in the Scary Movie series, even Scary Movie V. Admittedly, like the four previous chapters, it’s spotty fare, but fair enough to entertain. Taking over the lead ditz role for Anna Faris, High School Musical grad Tisdale stars as Jody. She and her husband, well-meaning dufus Dan (Simon Rex, playing a different character than he did in SMs 3 and 4), become guardians to his two nieces and one nephew, found living feral in the woods yet raised by a malevolent spirit that follows them to their new home.

Thus, the comedy gets to parody the then-recent horror hits of Mama and the Paranormal Activity franchise all at once, and to a lesser degree, The Cabin in the Woods, Evil Dead, Insidious, Sinister and The Devil Inside. Also spoofed? Those utterly terrifying fright flicks known as Inception, Rise of the Planet of the Apes and The Help; it also leans heavily on Black Swan — an odd choice since Scary Movie V‘s target audience isn’t likely to have seen it.

In no way am I suggesting Scary Movie V is up to the level of co-writer David Zucker’s classics (primarily Airplane! and The Naked Gun) — or even to director Malcolm D. Lee’s Undercover Brother, for that matter — but I did laugh out loud a couple of times, and smiled pretty much throughout the rapid-fire delivery, strewn as it is with foul balls and strikes. I can’t say the same of SM vet Marlon Wayans’ near-simultaneous release of A Haunted House, which takes aim at several of the same targets.

Caveat emptor: This fifth Scary Movie barely qualifies as a feature film; the 15-minute crawl of end credits begins at the 73-minute mark. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

Rules of garlic and sunlight rules still apply, but Modern Vampires, from Forbidden Zone director Richard Elfman, is an unconventional vampire film, both fresh and funny.

Here, the bloodsuckers take residence in the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel and visit a nightclub where humans are kept in cages until feeding time. Looking like he finally comprehends the words in a script, Starship Troopers‘ Casper Van Dien stars as Dallas, a cigar-smoking vampire who takes a trailer-trash vamp (Natasha Gregson Wagner, Urban Legend) under his, um, wing.

But the subplot is what really makes this comedy fly: Vampire hunter Dr. Van Helsing (a crazed Rod Steiger, Mars Attacks!) comes to L.A. and is forced to take out an ad to find an assistant. The only applicant is gang member Time Bomb (Gabriel Casseus, Black Dog), a Crip who is at first reluctant to complete the duties of his job: namely, driving a stake through a vampire’s heart. “Man, I’m on probation!” he protests. “I don’t wanna fuck that up!”

Count Dracula himself is played by Robert Pastorelli (TV’s Murphy Brown), while other creatures of the night are Udo Kier and Kim Cattrall. Yep, she’s slutty in this one, too, and when she’s raped by gang members, they turn into the world’s first black vampires — a distinction of which they’re awfully proud. This humorous take on the vampire legend was written by the talented Matthew Bright, who infused equal amounts of humor and horror into his wicked Little Red Riding Hood update, 1996’s Freeway. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

Among all the Porky’s rip-offs and T&A romps of the era, Screwballs strikes me as one of the most repellent. Basically, the “plot” is this: At the world’s most depressing-looking high school, four or five guys — I really can’t remember; they were all overly horny — make a bet at who will be able to see the breasts of popular virgin Purity Busch (Linda Speciale). Yep, that name is as clever as Screwballs gets — sorry, Bootsie Goodhead and Principal Stuckoff — which is to say, not at all.

Oh, what a different movie Screwballs might have been had it stuck to this plot! Instead, it goes off on so many illogical tangents that we have the tragic tale of a boy who gets his penis stuck in a bowling ball, or the ironic spectacle of a slut’s gelatinous chest pressed up against the back window of a van.

In the end, our zeroes — skilled they are at staging free breast exams at school — succeed, by blowing Purity’s clothes off with a giant fan at an assembly. With patriotic music blaring in a way the composer certainly never intended, Purity’s not-that-great-to-be-honest bosom is shown in full close-up as the end credits roll.

What, no epilogue to tie up all the nagging loose ends? No jokey “where are they now?” titles? I wish we could measure how far back Screwballs set the women’s movement, but the fact that it was co-written by a woman (Linda Shayne, who played the aforementioned Bootsie) certainly pushes it back even further. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

Only one film in history is endorsed by California’s San Leandro Police Department — and I mean endorsed via an introduction that’s actually part of the movie, with the police chief addressing the camera when he’s not looking down to read his lines. That lucky sonofabitch is Kindergarten Ninja.

Or, if you prefer, as the DVD label reads in all caps, “KIDNERGARDEN NINJA.”

Former San Francisco 49ers wide receiver and two-time Super Bowl champion Dwight Clark stars as former San Francisco Gold Rush football star Blade Steel, a playboy who manages a stable of at least 10 sex partners, uses “Hey, do you like French fries?” as a surefire pickup line and keeps a cooler of beer in his convertible. The latter helps earn him a DUI, but an argument can be made that fighting outside a Payless ShoeSource marks his true low point — either way, a judge assigns him to 90 days of community service at a children’s sports program.

Meanwhile, in heaven, where the likes of Elvis Presley and Charlie Chaplin engage in stick fighting, Bruce Lee (Anthony Chan) must intervene in Blade’s life to become an angel. Thus, at a dojo where everyone drinks Coca-Cola Classic, Blade learns karate from a blind master (George Chung) named the Chosen Wan. Get it?

Such high-kickin’ skills will come in handy when Blade faces Hector Machette (Juan Chapa, Fight to Win), a drug dealer slinging the hot new street narcotic, Buzz. However, the cops aren’t too happy to have Blade’s assistance: “Hey, I don’t need no washed-up wide receiver vigilante tryin’ to play policeman out here.”

Needless to say, Blade Steel does not become a ninja as the title hints, and he barely spends any time with the kids. He’s too busy romancing their teacher, Miss Linda (Suzanne Stanke), a goody-two-shoes who’s co-opted Peter Pan’s hairstyle. Together they go to a karaoke club that clearly is some crew member’s living room.

This no-budget, shot-on-video movie will give viewers plenty to laugh at, but not in the way Chan and Chung intended. Doubling as the director and screenwriter, respectively, the two men are in on the joke — it’s just the wrong joke. They think Kindergarten Ninja is hilarious; it’s not. It is painfully inept on all levels imaginable, particularly with its wooden performers. On the scale of gridiron vets turning to acting, Clark may be the worst; by comparison, Hunter‘s Fred Dryer would excite Joseph Papp.

Kindergarten Ninja ends with an unrealized threat (“The End … for now”); a shout-out to Hot 97.7 Radio; and a reel of bloopers, as if the entire project weren’t one in itself. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.