Greetings scumbags. How’s your Saturday night treating you? Did you spend today sleeping off all the cocaine you had blown into your asshole by women with bad breast implants? Did you spend Friday night engaging in weird homo erotic wrestling matches in order to keep your neighbors from sleep and driving them one step closer to becoming the angel of death and going completely fucking crazy in the grocery store? Well for those of you who didn’t engage in microaggressions involving pelting a beaver with full cups of 7-11 coffee, I have a real doozy of a review/diatribe for you lot. Scotty Floronic and myself have been to the movies twice in a week because we love you guys so much! Although, with this week’s viewing of Paranormal Activity: The Ghost Dimension, I don’t know much about why we even bothered.
So this whole billing of the fifth fucking installment of this god awful shakey cam nightmare franchise is based on the promise that you will actually see the ghost this time. Okay, so before you nut into your ghost busters jammy bottoms, cold hard fact – you don’t see shit. Unless you count some haunted dust bunnies or someone thrashing around underneath a pile of sheets, you see no more and no less than the first previous installments of this WTFery.
So this movie follows the same basic plot points of the original four, family moves into house complete with creepy AF child, and child begins interacting with the paranormal. Bibles get torn up and thrown into the fireplace, stuff starts talking, rosaries are buried out back, and in all Gaahl would be ever so proud.
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million fucking times but if I had a kid and they started getting all creepy and getting up late at night to mutter incoherent rhetoric into a mirror about the coming of he, and repeating bloody mary over and over again while wearing a tutu, I definitely wouldn’t be averse to buckling them into the family sedan and putting a rock on the gas pedal and rolling the car into a goddamned lake.
Meanwhile Dad and Uncle pervert the rapist find the biggest haunted video camera from the 1980s I’ve ever seen and along with it a box of dope as fuck VHS tape home movies of Satanic rituals. Instead of doing the decent thing and using them for some kind of found footage style nightmare, the dudes get SUPER HIGHHHH MAAAAAAAN and watch the tapes and it turns out that if this fucking piece of shit was already confusing enough that this big ass camera from Hell’s Radioshack is a portal to the year 1992 (seems redundant).
Like. First of all, lets be real here. No one anywhere, ever, for any reason would watch hours of shitty weird home movies they found in a box unless it was like really fucked up bad fucking. Like some dude with his beer gut and sock garters listlessly humping his wife while her fupa threatens to break up the whole affair by popping a hernia.
Seriously though. No one ever would do that. No one would have weird shit happen in their house and stagger around with an old videocamera the size of a greasy mountain traveller’s camp backpack.
Further, if your kid was staring into the mirror at 4am and mumbling and burying religious iconography, most parents wouldn’t just allow it to continue and spend their time dicking around on their iPad and phoning shitty priests. Most people would do the normal sane thing and cart them off to a therapist or doctor or somewhere for a potential autism diagnosis.
So roll all this complete ridiculousness up with the whole idea of some cult of witches trying to steal kids to raise a demon and generally doing witchy or should i say #VVitchy shit.
Okay for real though, the whole witches thing makes so little fucking sense, that when combined with the whole time travel portal we totally didn’t rip off Poltergeist and Fatal Frame at all thing just becomes laughable. That big ass camera picks up straight up haunted dust bunnies. Like the little haunted ghost particles look like the house is in a need of a Swiffer Sweeper or some shit.
Okay so I want you all to know that partway through this piece of shit I had to leave the theatre to go into the bathroom and vomit out my guts. Not due to fear or pounding down a 26oz of methylated spirits mixed with boot polish. I straight up got motion sick, because in order to actually get fuckwads into the theatre for this thing, they had to make it a 3D movie. Allow me to say if you’re prone to motion sickness, 3D movies and shakey cam nightmares are not a good combination.
It was a real nightmare. This whole film went for a shit and ended with Reverend Blue Jeans (I swear to god if you called for a priest and he rolled up in some Levi’s how would you really feel about the legitimacy of his credentials?) coming over and performing a real half assed exorcism. The demon thing gets all pissy at being told to GTFO and ends up getting trapped under some bed sheets just like a kitty cat when you’re making the bed, and was really roughly the same amount of terrifying.
Beyond causing me to end my night vomiting and with a tummy ache, this movie was not worth seeing. I have the greatest hopes that this franchise will indeed go gently into the good night, but I have severe doubts. Beyond the camp value of the first movie, there was no need for any of the myriad sequels that made literally no goddamn sense.
Like straight up some of the big spooky characters were just little girls in nightgowns with black out sclera lenses. And tell me if I’m alone on this one, but all I can think of is Wes Borland from Limp Bizkit and no part of that is terrifying in anyway shape or form.
This movie was whack. Whack as hell. So whack that I am now referring to it as Paranormal Whacktivity.
Anywho. I’m still actually not feeling too great from this piece of shit, so I’m gonna go and continue enjoying my evening on the shitter. So remember kids, if father Blue Jeans comes over and wants you to be his altar boy, just say no, and the best thing you can possibly do if you find a haunted camera is to get a fucking life because ghosts aren’t real. Oh and always stay spooky, I guess.