Our second movie this month to feature one of the “Workaholics” guys (in this case, Adam Devine), tonight’s feature is like a modern day There’s Nothing Out There. If you don’t know what that is, first of all, shame upon thy family’s house and name. Second of all, it did the “horror movie meta” gimmick LONG before Scream was even a ripoff in the wrinkles of Wes Craven’s brain.
Amanda Cartwright was murder fodder in the ’80s slasher classic Camp Bloodbath. Sadly, the role haunted her would-be career until she died in a car accident, because woman drivers. Am I right, guys?! Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa… no one loves you, Sinbad. A year following the fatal fender bender, her daughter Max gets wrangled into making an appearance at a showing of, yep, Camp Bloodbath. While reconsidering the celebration of the anniversary of her mother’s death with a viewing of the movie she considered a curse, Max’s attempt to “get some air” is canceled when the theater goes up like a Great White concert! As our heroine and her friends attempt to escape via the fire exit behind the movie screen, slicing it with a functional machete (that some fan brought along as part of their cosplay), they’re whisked into the movie itself faster than you can say “Whatever happened to that kid from The Last Action Hero anyway?”
Once they’ve finally wrapped their heads around the ridiculous scenario presented them, they opt to play along with the plot and see what happens if they just wait things out until the end credits. Knowing how the movie plays out and having a dyed-in-the-wool horror nerd in their midst, these kids are sure to make it through the next 80 or so minutes unscathed, correct? Not exactly… Oh well, at least Max gets to spend time with her mom… but it’s her mom’s character from the movie, so… I don’t know where I’m going with this point. End paragraph!
Despite establishing rules that it later breaks (and introducing shit like wire-fu and FUCKING MATRIXING, which never happened in ’80s slasher movies!), nitpicking aside this is a decent flick. The characters are likable with even the group’s resident dick bag redeeming themselves before too long, and seeing Max trying to make the most of her time with not-her-mom is actually kinda sweet. That, or the post-enchilada dinner afterglow Krix has put me into has me feeling warmer and gooier inside than normal. Whatever the case, give The Final Girls a watch if you’re up for some very blunt slasher movie meta gags (kudos for their take on flashbacks) to put a smile on your face and a few laughs in your belly.
Oh, and despite this being a movie that makes light of trash cinema tropes, be warned: it’s rated PG-13. Yep. You know what that means: no tits, only minor vulgarity and tame violence. Sad face.
Three Golden Houdini Tickets out-of-Five
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