Comedy

Revenge of the Nerds IV: Nerds in Love (1994)

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With Revenge of the Nerds IV: Nerds in Love, the question is less “Who would marry Booger?” and more “Why was this made for the Fox network?” After all, this is a sequel to an ’80s teen comedy that’s so notoriously raunchy, it’s now seen as problematic.

But no worries, Nielsen families: The Lambda Lambda Lambda frat brothers are adults now; their days of panty raids, video voyeurism and cosplay rape long behind them! Lead nerd Lewis (Robert Carradine) and victim wife Betty (Julia Montgomery) are expecting a baby. Booger (Curtis Armstrong) even has replaced his “WHO FARTED?” T-shirt with the more mature, ready-for-prime-time “WHO POOTED?”

Plus, as spoiled two paragraphs above, he’s engaged! The lucky (?) lady is the appropriately geeky Jeanie (Corinne Bohrer, Police Academy 4: Citizens on Patrol). Booger botches meeting the parents by immediately molesting Jeanie upon arrival, then slapping her mom (Christina Pickles, Masters of the Universe) on the face with a slab o’ meat. (No, a raw steak. What on earth did you think I meant?)

Jeanie’s sickeningly wealthy father, Mr. Humphrey (Joseph Bologna, Blame It on Rio), harbors political aspirations that Booger surely would tank, so he charges his sycophantic son-in-law, Chip (Stephen Davies, 1988’s The Nest), with preventing the union. To do so, Chip enacts several ceremony-killing schemes, one of which involves hiring strippers with calculators and pencil protectors covering their breasts. Another, at a buffet restaurant whose logo is a fork stuck in a cow’s ass, ends unintentionally with a pie atop Mr. Humphrey’s head.

Elsewhere, former mean jock Stan (Ted McGinley) spends the entire movie in bed stricken with chickenpox. Ogre (Donald Gibb) swills beer from Pyrex. Lewis’ “unborn fetal son” already speaks from within Betty’s womb: “Pickles and ice cream! Pickles and ice cream!” And returning screenwriters Jeff Buhai and Steve Zacharias prove their comedy fingers are anything but tight on the pulse of what’s hot by serving up parodies of The Waltons and 2001.

With Bernie Casey, Jessica Tuck, James Karen, Robert Picardo and James Cromwell amid the supporting players, Nerds in Love bursts with talent, but not things for them to do. Worse, Bohrer’s role requires her to do several things I’m sure she wishes she hadn’t, like imitating a cow with a full-volume, head-extended moo so loud and proud, it’d merit a fine for disturbing the peace. Rarely have I felt more embarrassed for an actress. And I’m including her fully nude scene with Randy Quaid in Dead Solid Perfect.

Although Revenge of the IV: Nerds in Love culminates with a Valentine’s Day wedding (oh, shit, spoiler), it premiered in summer sweeps week. A brand-new sequel watered down from the hit original wasn’t enough of a draw, so Fox broadcast it in 3-D with select scenes in scratch-and-sniff, as if you couldn’t already tell it stinks. Hey, at least I laughed once (“What will he lie about next? You saw The Crying Game!”), which is more than I can say for Revenge of the Nerds III: The Next Generation. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Comedy

The Premiere (2024)

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While you await the next Scream sequel, you could try to sate your Ghostface jones with The Premiere, a mockumentary about the making of a Scream musical. But I doubt it’ll do the trick.

Made in the Hamptons (with every bit of insularity as that sounds), this improvised comedy follows the cart-before-the-horse theatrical ambitions of Sam (Sam Pezzullo) as he attempts to stage the show — and fails spectacularly. As you’ve already guessed, he’s incompetent, oblivious, passive-aggressive, narcissistic and as questionably talented as he is underfunded.

Any comparisons to Christopher Guest’s Corky St. Clair of Waiting for Guffman are entirely merited and, one assumes, invited with ornate calligraphy and burgundy wax seals. The glaring difference is here, I found nothing funny. Sam yammers incessantly, as if doing so increases the chances something will hit a target. It comes off not as a matter of calculation, but desperation, overestimating his audience appeal by a magnificent mile. Other characters you want to see more of get short-shrifted.

The Premiere is spotted with germs of good ideas, like one of the leads having no knowledge of the Scream franchise, or the only rejected actor from auditions protesting the production, yet none are properly mined to yield laughs. (To that end, you could add its premise to the list.) I did smile at one bit, when Sam gasps at breaking news of Queen Elizabeth’s passing, not out of empathy, but the threat he believes the event poses to his press release.

In addition to starring, Pezzullo shares writing, directing and producing duties with Christopher Bouckoms. But only Pezzullo is credited as editor, which may be the root cause of an avoidable problem: He’s too close to the material, with Exhibit A being the pic nearly running an oxygen-sucking two hours. (Ironically, in his everyday career, Pezzullo excels in the short form, being behind some of your YouTube feed’s favorite viral marketing stunts in recent years.)

Look, I’m not saying The Premiere is an ego project; I’ll let the closing credits’ red-carpet photos of him and him and him and his friends and him do all the talking there. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Sex

50,000 B.C. (Before Clothing) (1963)

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In this nudie cutie, elderly burlesque comedian Charlie Robinson more or less plays himself: pickled, wrinkled and luckily fully clothed. As a sewer worker, henpecked husband, functioning alcoholic and DJ Qualls prototype, Charlie could use some time away from it all. Opportunity knocks when his trailer-park neighbor converts a Checker cab into a time machine.

With the trip depicted footage of water circling a drain superimposed over a Matchbox car, Charlie and his Abe Lincoln hat are whipped back to the prehistoric era — 50,000 B.C. (Before Clothing), to be exact. The title lies, as men and women don Flintstones-style pelts, although the Knob Hill Nudist Colony is nearby. So is a giant (Eddie Carmel, The Brain That Wouldn’t Die) whom Charlie swiftly defeats by whistling “Dixie,” because why the fuck not.

From the usually mightier pen of Doom Patrol creator Arnold Drake, this hour of udder nonsense comes with a black-and-white courtroom scene, a snake dance (credited to one “Sexcra”), the gorgeous Gigi Darlene from Doris Wishman’s Bad Girls Go to Hell and an alternative title of Nudes on the Rocks. What it doesn’t have is a legitimate joke — lest it counts when a drunken tailor gives Charlie a pair of pants so large, his face is at zipper level. I don’t think that qualifies. —Rod Lott

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Thriller

Relay (2024)

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No, Riz Ahmed is not playing deaf again, although the Sound of Metal star doesn’t speak for the first half of Relay. The title even refers to the phone service that facilitates conversations for the hearing-impaired, which Ahmed’s Ash uses to keep his identity secret, being a fixer in the world of corporate espionage and all.

His newest client is Sarah (Lily James, Baby Driver), a genetic scientist in possession of an incriminating document from her former employer. A week before that company goes publicly traded, she wants to broker a deal to give the study back in exchange for the escalating harassment by corporate goons (led by Avatar’s Sam Worthington) to cease.

Attribute Ash’s success in this dangerous business to his adherence to rules regarding his clients — namely, communicating only via relay and never meeting them. But with Sarah looking like Lily James … oops!

Relay starts like crime-pic catnip: at night in New York City, complete with ambient traffic noise, a color palette that pops in gunmetal blue and chewable-children’s-aspirin orange, and the words “directed by David Mackenzie.” He made Hell or High Water, my favorite film of 2016. That pic was bottled lightning, so I wasn’t expecting Relay to reach its level. And it doesn’t.

Yet it’s a solid B. That witnessing multiple instances of Ash’s lightspeed keystrokes — and various relay operators reading to Sarah what he types — isn’t monotonous speaks to the strength of Mackenzie’s direction and Justin Piasecki’s screenplay. Their collaboration operates neatly and quietly in the shadows of 1970s conspiracy-driven thrillers. Even the relay machine Ash lugs around looks appropriately analogue.

Immensely talented, Ahmed seems to enjoy digging into what is essentially a spy film, including the opportunity to be a master of disguise. Relay marks as close as he’s come to leading an action vehicle, because in massive movies like Venom and Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, he’s either the villain or the sidekick. Enjoy this while it lasts. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Horror

Weapons (2025)

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Zach Cregger’s Weapons taps into the same suburban fear that gave his 2022 surprise hit, Barbarian, staying power. What’s more, while Weapons includes a similarly rewarding and refreshing twist, the film doesn’t depend on it. Instead, it uses it to create a tonal anomaly of a flick that — at least for now — solidifies the former Whitest Kids U’ Know member as a must-watch horror director on the level of Jordan Peele and Ari Aster.

At 2:17 a.m. in the middle of a week, 17 third-grade classmates mysteriously vanish, save Alex (Cary Christopher). Their teacher, Justine (Julia Garner, The Fantastic Four: First Steps), shoulders the blame as the town demands a culprit. Archer (Josh Brolin, No Country for Old Men), the father of one of the missing kids, begins his own investigation of the disappearances while school principal Marcus (Benedict Wong, Doctor Strange) struggles to quell the town’s spiraling rage.

Like Barbarian, Cregger opts for a split narrative across six characters. While this helps Weapons comfortably outpace its two-hour runtime, it does feel somewhat needlessly inflated and could’ve benefited from a narrower focus. That said, it doesn’t significantly detract from the film; it just causes it to tread water for a decent chunk of the third act.

Minor criticisms aside, Weapons shines with exceptional cinematography, snappy dialogue and an expectation-subverting meld of heartwarming storytelling and unflinching brutality. Multiple tracking shots cleverly capture the self-destructive drinking and “eating” habits of three prominent characters. (This aspect of the film culminates with an especially wild scene that feels like it borrows from 2000’s Snow Day as much as it does 1980’s Cannibal Holocaust.)

While the film’s central figures feel a bit one-note, they’re leveraged by excellent performances from Garner, Brolin and a returning Amy Madigan (Uncle Buck). And while Austin Abrams’ (Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark) character is ultimately overexposed, his future collaboration leading Cregger’s Resident Evil movie carries a lot of promise.

Ultimately, Weapons earns most of its resonance through its unexpected accessibility. No, this isn’t a kids’ movie. Yet it borrows enough elements from early 1990s films like The Witches and Ernest Scared Stupid that it feels comfortably nostalgic despite its originality. Declaring it an instant classic feels like an overstep, but its undeniable charm paired with its grotesque violence could give it the legs to be timeless. And maybe it will be.

In a year already stacked with heavy-hitting horror movies, Weapons rises to the top of the pack. While it might not be technically “better” than Ryan Coogler’s Sinners, it operates on a different, largely incomparable level. In the end, Weapons is a crowd-pleasing flick that reminds us we should spend less time placing films on hierarchies and more time celebrating them.

See Weapons in a theater, and be sure to order seven hotdogs and a couple cookies. It’ll be more immersive than any RealD Cinema ever could be. —Daniel Bokemper

Get it at Amazon.

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