Bovie Movie

Bawdy comedy American Pie was an unexpected box-office hit in 1999 and, amazingly for a sequel, the whole cast returned here, including Seann William Scott, Mena Suvari and the wonderful Eugene Levy as Jason Biggs’s embarrassing dad. The humour remains the same — rude, crude and lewd — as the gang gets together for lots of beer and sex at a beach house following their first year in college. Apple pie lover Jim (Biggs) realises he needs to improve his sexual experience when he hears the beautiful Nadia (Shannon Elizabeth) is coming back to town, leading him to track down his only sexual partner (Alyson Hannigan) and ask for her advice. This involves the placing of a trumpet in an unusual location, but it might spoil your enjoyment to say where. Sure, the comedy here isn’t sophisticated and it’s often predictable, but if someone supergluing his hand to his, erm, member gets you giggling, you won’t mind a bit. 

If you thought Dumb and Dumber or There’s Something about Mary plumbed the depths of grossness, hold on to your lunch — you ain’t seen nothing yet. This laughter-packed comedy about four teenage boys who pledge to lose their virginity before prom night has enough crass gags to satisfy the most demanding fans of Porky’s-style farces. Yet it also boasts some spot-on performances from a hip young cast that includes Chris Klein, Mena Suvari, Tara Reid and Natasha Lyonne. The title refers to one of the more eye-widening sequences, in which Jim (Jason Biggs) gets a bit too friendly with his mom’s apple pie. This is definitely not one to show granny, but must-see fare for those not easily offended. 

It wasn’t a classic or particularly well made, but at least Scary Movie was good for a few honest Scream-inspired laughs. That original outing looks like a masterpiece in comparison to this uninspired profit-driven sequel. Barely competent on any technical or artistic level, what comic ingenuity and genre appreciation was shown the first time around has been replaced by boorish vulgarity and a desperation to get the audience to snigger at anything, no matter how lame, crude or obvious. Once past the opening where The Exorcist is amusingly sent up by James Woods in a cameo appearance as a priest (a role originally earmarked for Marlon Brando), it descends rapidly into lampooning the 1999 remake of The Haunting — so close to an awful self parody itself that any gags at its expense are depressingly redundant. Everything from Charlie’s Angels and What Lies Beneath to Hannibal and even The Weakest Link is raked over for minimal laughs in a shoddy satire that took seven screenwriters to produce. It brings new depths to the term “too many cooks spoil the broth”. 

Macaulay Culkin makes a triumphant return to the screen after a nine-year absence in this colourful, true-story drama. Attempting to bury his cute Home Alone past, the former child sensation slaps on glitter and lip gloss to portray late-1980s nightclub promoter Michael Alig. The toast of Manhattan, flamboyant Alig and his Club Kid pals turned dance floors into living art installations, only for drugs, in-fighting and ultimately murder to shatter their hedonistic dreams. Having already presented the sensational story in a 1998 documentary, directors Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato have more than done their homework. Vividly capturing the wild and superficial glamour of these Warhol-inspired youngsters, they match their meticulous attention to period detail with spot-on casting. Though Culkin may seem implausibly theatrical to those unfamiliar with the real Alig, Seth Green is a delight as his campy mentor James St James. The dialogue is wonderfully witty too, giving extra sparkle to this revealing portrait of a scene where style reigned supreme. 

Long before Monty Woolley outstayed his welcome in The Man Who Came to Dinner, the unwanted guest had been a staple of cinematic comedy. The situation is taken to its extreme in this uneven farce, in which Kirstie Alley and John Larroquette find their new love nest overrun by the kind of relatives you hope you only see at weddings and funerals. The contrast between down-on-their-luck John Diehl and Jessica Lundy and wealthy wife Alison LaPlaca makes for some contrived satire, but writer/director Tom Ropelewski comes up with a couple of cracking moments, the best involving a spaced-out moggie.