
How bad is Monster High? This bad:
1) Even if I hate you, I hope you never have to see it.
2) It should bear the credit “written and directed by Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer.”
3) I’d rather not watch anything for 84 minutes than sit through it again.
The list could go on and on, but let’s get down to business: Two aliens named Dume and Glume — ha, get it? — steal a wooden box containing a doomsday device. After it lands on Earth on the grounds of Montgomery Sterling High School, whereupon it kills a dog, the box is then stolen by one Mr. Armageddon.
Then lots of weird things appear in the school halls: head-smothering condoms, neck-strangling plants,a preppy zombie, a horny gargoyle, a mummy, a creature in red sneakers. It ends with the students squaring off against Mr. Armageddon at a climactic basketball match. Apparently, this plot is so complex that every scene requires narration.
The jokes — I apologize to the word “jokes” — are so insipid, that I also should apologize to the word “insipid.” An example: Dume and Glume rap! About penises and vaginas! Sample lyric: “You got your fimbriae / And your scrotum sac / And if your hymen is gone / It ain’t coming back.” Yes, Monster High has all the subtlety of a Three Stooges short. (Sorry, Moe, Larry and Curly.)
Apparently, all of the brainpower went into crafting names for the characters: Norm Median, Candice Caine, Mel Anoma, Miss Anne Thrope, Coach Otto Parts. The movie has exactly one thing going for it: boobs. Lots of large, naked breasts appear, and they’re from the era where they were real, rather than purchased on layaway. However, all the nude women are unseen from the neck up, as if they didn’t want anyone to know their identity. Smart move, ladies. —Rod Lott


Despite this and numerous other warnings to get out of the town before it traps him, Whitmore sticks around. I’m guessing part of this is because Roth’s assistant, Genevieve (Paola Rinaldi), likes to undress in front of an open window. That may give you reason to stick around, too, as will the string of strange murders and increasingly bizarre proceedings that, at the very end, jump from aping the stylistic methods of Dario Argento to David Cronenberg.
There’s a reason well-known character actor Gregg Henry (
It casts Henry as a former Navy SEAL who was dishonorably discharged from ’Nam when he refused to take part in a pointless raid on a defenseless village, but who gets a chance to restore his good name when the death of a friend alerts him to a (poorly thought-out and rather nonsensical) conspiracy to smuggle stolen nukes out of the country through oil pipelines.

Director Andrzej Bartkowiak certainly has an unapologetically commercial style that’s high on gloss and short on everything else, but there’s something about it I like. Although it’s far from brilliant, it’s also far from incompetent. I’m just not sure why every movie he does has to star DMX and Anthony Anderson (a little of whose ad-libbed shtick goes a long way). Also starring in this outing are Tom Arnold (some of whose scenes with Seagal seem filmed without Seagal even there), Isaiah Washington and, all too briefly, Eva Mendes. —Rod Lott