Weenie Roast Massacre

 

Many years ago before I even started Cinema Slayer, I attempted to watch Weenie Roast Massacre on an app on the Roku titled Crackle. It didn't go so well and I made it through the first five minutes right about the time when Marty tries to catch a pass for a football team scout that results in him missing the ball completely and hits his head on the side of the propane grill where wieners and burgers are being cooked. I promptly shut this piece of filth off and did something else. I don't remember what that something else was, but it had nothing to do with another movie or anything relevant. I probably just went to bed at that point. Many, many years have passed since that particular night (I honestly think it was a solid decade ago now) and I completely forgot that Weenie Roast Massacre even existed until recently. I was looking for some cancer to absorb on Tubi one night before going to bed, and there it was-this film was promptly staring me in the face in the horror section that they have setup at the moment, and I added it on my list right away to give it a possible second chance so I could actually write something on here for it. I should have just buried the idea. Weenie Roast Massacre fucking sucks. If you enjoy aerial shit-shows such as Camp Blood 4, Curse on Blanchard Hill, Blown or Greetings, then you'll fucking love this. Now that I've sat through this entire romp of excruciatingly boring medical malpractice, there is no way in hell that it's not ending up on my worst list for the year. My wife and I had Sonic for lunch yesterday and the brain freeze that I experienced from the slushy I purchased didn't even hurt as much as sitting through this bacterially infected sinus drainage. You know, I personally realized a long time ago that I have the stomach, the will, and the mental fortitude to be able to make it to the final credit roll of these kinds of psychological acts of violence, and by now I feel like I'm almost indestructible at this point in regards to swimming to the bottom of the barrel. The water pressure has little to no effect on me, and I still haven't quite figured out if this is wholly a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, if you're reading this, partake in the festivities here at your own risk. The meds you have to take beforehand may not help you.

Marty is the weirdest and most awkward star football player I've ever seen because 99% of the time, young football players that are in high school and college are arrogant, self-absorbed assholes that think they're better than everyone because of said activities. In reality, they're sad sacks of dogshit that enjoy wearing tights and chasing a ball laced up with pieces of pigskin. He, on the other hand, is weird around girls, doesn't want to be in social situations and somehow doubles as the best of whatever the fuck position he plays (I don't watch sports) on his team and is being scouted to be on some college team or pro team or whatever. It doesn't matter here because the only thing I was looking for was the possibility of cute topless girls and an actual full blown massacre during a weenie roast. Well, my weenie was roasted alright because the "massacre" doesn't really start until there's probably about fifteen or twenty minutes left of this mud-pit drag course and you really have to trudge and wade through the banality of this entry to get to the good stuff. And unfortunately, when you finally do, the good stuff isn't even that great. There's one really cool kill that has a lot of gore and the rest is just half-assed, off screen bullshit that anyone with working and/or colorblind eyes could see from fourteen miles away. All the way back in the first act could you see this shit happen, and I wasn't surprised one bit. Not at all. There's also a bunch of side gristle here that just pads the fat on like some depressed fat chick that can't stop fucking eating like some loser that plays a 12 string acoustic who writes some of the lamest songs ever, which in turn nets him to steal one of the other football players' girlfriends... I don't know. And the news reporter that's in here is some annoying bloated guy in a suit that talks heavily from the back of his throat and nose cavity and wears a clip-on tie. Such high production values were employed here. 

Nice use of ketchup as blood.

Wow, what a boring, lame and shitty weenie roast.

Being a bookworm is so much more fulfilling than being a jock.

Ice cold beer while you're driving? It'll be some ice cold times when you get a DUI as well.

You're going away to college? Boo-hoo. Marty will find a better chick somewhere else anyway. I would.

Natural Ice-you may as well be drinking piss in a can.

"Fucker!" "I think I will!!"

Jason's a loser and his girlfriend is a four at best. I'd be ready to get tanked as well.

Sweet, someone got ripped in half. Finally, something may or may not happen in this damn movie.

Ooh, a scary transition shot of a lake.

Yay, two guys with zero character development just got stabbed.

So, your coach is dead and you're going to keep going with the shit weekend activities anyway. You even go so far as to say "fuck him" to one of your teammates. What a great guy.

"I'll order some food-which would you prefer? Cheese sticks or poppers? Hold that thought-I need to poop on it."

Zits and zombies, Weenie Roast Massacre is such a massive waste of your time and energy. Having an actual weenie roast in your backyard with family and friends would be a great time as you would be surrounded by people you actually like and care about versus a bunch of clowns on a sports team that only give a shit about the glory of that, drinking and hanging out with some of the ugliest chicks I've seen in one of these kinds of flicks in quite awhile. There's usually one that sort of makes me pay attention to them looks-wise during the duration of a fecal-flinging offering, but here there's nothing of quality. At all. Weenie Roast Massacre is seriously one where nothing matters-the main character doesn't matter, the girls don't matter, the secondary characters don't matter and the sfx don't matter. If there was music or a score, I barely remember any of it and it probably was trash. Hey Marty, your dad looks like Mario went on a bender with Luigi for a whole year and then decided to come home after his hair turned grey to piss off you and your sister and your mom because he wants to finally start acting like a real dad. Instead of Weenie Roast Massacre, I want to change the name of this to Face First Massacre so when I put my face on the grill at the beginning of this gorilla pile, it will be over before it even begins. To save you all. See, I'm a selfless person-I just need to be more creative and put the work in.