Cheesy Horror is dead...

...and "comedy horror" killed it.  Its death knell comes as Jennifer's Body, starring Megan Fox.  I never thought I'd long for another I Know Who Killed Me, but I started praying about forty-five minutes into the movie.  The main difference between the two was that I Know Who Killed Me took itself seriously, making it an easy and enjoyable target.  Jennifer's Body is tongue-in-cheek and it makes fun of itself--thing is, it doesn't do it very well.

First off, whoever told Diablo Cody that she was a decent writer (looking at you, Academy) should be dragged out and shot.  There's more to writing dialogue than turning every line into a catch phrase.  Maybe it's me getting old, but most of the time I could barely tell what the fuck any of the characters were talking about because it was so laden with teenage colloquialisms, which Cody pulled straight from her ass.  From the look of things, Megan Fox knew about as much as me.  She delivers each line like it's in a foreign language.  Also, does anyone else notice that she speaks like her voice box is coated in mucus?  Anyway.

Someone on Netflix thought this movie was Sam Raimi-esque.  This person should also be shot.  Everyone seems to think that if a horror movie gets a couple of chuckles than it could pass for a Raimi vehicle.  The only connection I could make between this movie and Sam Raimi was that one of the characters wore an Evil Dead t-shirt--ironically, of course.  This gets into my hatred of hipsters so I'll drop it before I start to digress.

Goddamn you, Bill Kaulitz.

There are some horror comedies that are redeemed by good gore, but even here Jennifer's Body falls woefully short.  A couple of intestines do not a gore-fest make.  But, then again, this is a person who rented Cannibal Holocaust twice.

A special thanks goes out to Darbee, who without her generous donation, this blog could not go on.  Thanks!