How am I supposed to take this movie seriously when the people who made it don't even know what Jell-O shots are? You'd think that one of the many teenagers in this flick could have filled them in.

So, some teenagers are throwing a little New Year's Eve party when a p.o.'ed neighbor comes strolling over and starts fronting, even though he's hosting his own shindig across the street and his friends were getting pretty rambunctious themselves, what with those Charades and all. Well, he's practically putting an ad on Craigslist asking for a beatdown and he gets one, but then he dies and suddenly the cops are all over the kids' shit and everyone is being sued. It's laughably obvious that the movie expects us to be morally outraged and take the dead guy's side ("Where's Daddy? I can't find him," says his 4-year-old) but, and correct me if I'm wrong here, he was fucking trespassing. Hell, if you barge into somebody's house here in Florida and get put down they don't even bother filing a police report. Naturally the kids clam up, but then the dead guy's wife decides to talk to one of them herself:

Detective: "Why do you think you can get anything more out of him than we have?"
Dead Guy's Wife: "Because I'm a mother."

Are you kidding me? Let me fix that in post:

Detective: "Why do you think you can get anything more out of him than we have?"
Dead Guy's Wife: "Because this movie is a fucking joke."

There's only two worthwhile things in this entire movie: the deliciously choice little sophomore girl that one dude pushes away when she tries to kiss him (fucking queer), and the Billy Talent poster we see hanging in another kid's bedroom. Billy Talent fucking rocks. Remember when they were called "Pezz", but then some other band called "Pezz" sued them? The Great Pezz Wars! Ha ha ha! Duh.

Read Mr. Satanism's book, The 100 Best Movies Ever Made ...Mostly Suck, now available here and on Amazon.