I live in a small house, surrounded by many other small houses. At night, seemingly barricaded by clothes, a sleeping baby, and more dressers than one room should have, numerous sounds interrupt my oft-desired (and potentially deserved) peace and quiet. From an endless number of cars speeding by, to my neighbor's dog barking to finally be let in, or even some random asshole talking to himself during his leisurely stroll, it can be maddening. I'll lay there and think, f--k this. I want to live in a big house in the middle of nowhere, where I can't hear or see anyone.
Then, on a different night (and in my slightly more spacious living room), I'll watch a horror movie and think, f--k that. Those cars aren't so bad. I actually really like that dog. And that guy talking to himself? A fine gentleman, I'm sure of it.
review] in concept, this is a welcome ekspresi dominan in modern horror. Sure, the torture angle was fun for while, but when we started sewing asses to mouths [review], it literally began to suck ass.
Most horror movies, at least when watched at home, are only marginally scary to begin with. But to truly make it work, at least for me, I need to be able to imagine myself possibly being in the situation at hand. I will be at home. I will take a shower (potentially cleaning my ass and breasts for minutes). But backpacking through Europe with two hot sluts? Not f--king likely.
Anyway, You're Next, like countless scary movies before it, is very effective early on. A large, wealthy family has come together for a 35th anniversary party in their (surprise!) sprawling, secluded manor. Mom and Dad are not only thrilled to have each of their four adult children home at the same time, but each has brought with them a significant other. What do ten white people do when they get together (other than struggle to play quality full court basketball)? They eat.
And while ten dinner guests might have meant a higher-than-usual number of dirty salad forks for dear old mom, for the audience it means a higher than usual number of bodies. Honestly, I'm not even sure bread had been broken, as it's during this meal that the shit really hits the fan. And by shit, I mean arrow. And by fan, I actually mean the face of a documentary filmmaker.
Yes, in rather spectacular fashion, a simple family dinner (complete with groan-inducing sibling bickering) is rudely interrupted by a slew of motherf--king arrows. It's so gleefully ridiculous, I was completely hooked. I mean, had someone walked in an started slicing bitches up? Lame. But, arrows? From a motherf--king crossbow? Mmmm. That sounds good. I'll have that.
After the initial awesomeness of the dinnertime attack, the film settles into the familiar us vs. them territory. The surprise, however (or at least the one I'll discuss), is that the real asskicker of the bunch is a hot, young Aussie named Erin (played by the likable Sharni Vinson). Turns out, cause this happens, dear Erin was raised by a survivalist nutjob in the Australian Outback and was bred to slaughter masked a-holes. You can tell instantly that she's going to be the last one standing. The real shocker, is how much she seems to enjoy making sure that's the case.
Preferring to stab a knife into a rib eye than a human eye are the Yays and Boos. They don't like all the killing and such. They just want to share a meal with someone they love. Guess what? You're next.
Then, on a different night (and in my slightly more spacious living room), I'll watch a horror movie and think, f--k that. Those cars aren't so bad. I actually really like that dog. And that guy talking to himself? A fine gentleman, I'm sure of it.
Most horror movies, at least when watched at home, are only marginally scary to begin with. But to truly make it work, at least for me, I need to be able to imagine myself possibly being in the situation at hand. I will be at home. I will take a shower (potentially cleaning my ass and breasts for minutes). But backpacking through Europe with two hot sluts? Not f--king likely.
Anyway, You're Next, like countless scary movies before it, is very effective early on. A large, wealthy family has come together for a 35th anniversary party in their (surprise!) sprawling, secluded manor. Mom and Dad are not only thrilled to have each of their four adult children home at the same time, but each has brought with them a significant other. What do ten white people do when they get together (other than struggle to play quality full court basketball)? They eat.
And while ten dinner guests might have meant a higher-than-usual number of dirty salad forks for dear old mom, for the audience it means a higher than usual number of bodies. Honestly, I'm not even sure bread had been broken, as it's during this meal that the shit really hits the fan. And by shit, I mean arrow. And by fan, I actually mean the face of a documentary filmmaker.
Yes, in rather spectacular fashion, a simple family dinner (complete with groan-inducing sibling bickering) is rudely interrupted by a slew of motherf--king arrows. It's so gleefully ridiculous, I was completely hooked. I mean, had someone walked in an started slicing bitches up? Lame. But, arrows? From a motherf--king crossbow? Mmmm. That sounds good. I'll have that.
After the initial awesomeness of the dinnertime attack, the film settles into the familiar us vs. them territory. The surprise, however (or at least the one I'll discuss), is that the real asskicker of the bunch is a hot, young Aussie named Erin (played by the likable Sharni Vinson). Turns out, cause this happens, dear Erin was raised by a survivalist nutjob in the Australian Outback and was bred to slaughter masked a-holes. You can tell instantly that she's going to be the last one standing. The real shocker, is how much she seems to enjoy making sure that's the case.
Preferring to stab a knife into a rib eye than a human eye are the Yays and Boos. They don't like all the killing and such. They just want to share a meal with someone they love. Guess what? You're next.
Yaaaaaaaaaaay!
- We open with some sex and a 'boob' in the first three minutes. Might as well take care of the formalities.
- The parents are the first to arrive at the house, and things seem a little unsettled. Upon hearing some noises, Mom's not interested in investigating. Seriously. One mysteriously creaky stair and this bitch is out.
- This is actually a Boo, but in typical guy fashion, in response to the question Did you check every room? The guys totally lie. Yeah, of course we did.
- As I mentioned, the initial attack is fantastic, despite being f--king ridiculous. I mean, getting up from the table mid-conversation, might draw a curious look or two. But in this house, you can not only get up unnoticed, but you can get shot in the face that way, too.
- One of the best worst lines ever: I'm the fastest. But I've got this f--king arrow in my back.
- Okay, serious time. It's always a good time to hate a character, right? But when said character gets punched in the face through a window? Well, friends....that's a great time.
- Crocodile Dundee ain't got shit on Erin. For reals. The first dude she offs? I don't want to oversell it. But it may be the single best moment in the history of everything ever.
- Anyone know this guy?
- Is it just me, or are we all required to think of Home Alone every time someone starts making booby traps in a house? 'Cause I always do. Anyway, this one is pretty solid, even with the bootleg Daft Punk soundtrack accompanying it.
- The end credits feature Polaroids of each character's mangled corpse. Brilliant!
- And finally, the finale. I mean, ol' realism left town 88 minutes ago, but anytime something needs to be plugged in for a selesai kill, you're witnessing something magical.
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| My nomination for worst O-face. |
Boooooooooooo!
- The killers write You're Next in blood on the wall. While I appreciate the use of the apostrophe, this whole calling card seems absurd. Imagine if they're interrupted while smearing blood on the wall. What the f--k, man? Yo?
- We're so isolated here. Ah, expository dialogue. I hate you so much.
- Older brother? What a prick. He's essentially a poor man's Daniel Tosh.
- You bring a new girlfriend home and she kindly asks can I help? That's fine. But when Mom sends her next door for milk, just f--k off You're Next. Get us next door for a better reason, okay?
- Oh, and speaking of...no cell phone coverage really chaps my ass. Even if it's explained, I still absolutely f--king hate this necessary evil.
- There's this moment after the attack, where they come up with the brilliant plan of someone should go outside. Fine, that's stupid, but whatever. But then, they go the extra step. Start running inside, and we'll open the door right as you get to it. They'll never expect you to come out at full speed. I actually paused it at this point, because the level of absurdity had hit a level I couldn't fathom.
- Someone gets killed in the house. That's kind of troubling, no? Well, just between you and me, I'm pretty sure that means that one of those murderous f--ks is in the house! It takes the characters in this film entirely too long to address this.
- Speaking of people in the house, Dad finds evidence of this and decides the one thing he's going to pick up and investigate is the water bottle full of piss. This man has a career enabling him to own a mansion, yet a bottle of warm, yellowish liquid is completely baffling.
- A glass shard in the knee is bad. Removing it? Even worse. But when it's the f--king size of a small windshield? And you can still get around after taking it out? Boo.
- This is said: F--k me next to your dead mom. More than once, no less.
- The selesai tell is incredibly f--king stupid. Really.
- And finally, the masks. Yes, they are cool as shit to look at, but c'mon now. I probably couldn't successfully scratch my balls wearing those things, let alone murder an entire family.
We'll get a small cabin. In the woods. Nothing bad happens in those.