After losing his possessed girlfriend Kisha Davis (Essence Atkins) in a car crash, Malcolm Johnson (Marlon Wayans) has now moved on with his new girlfriend and mother of two Megan (Jaime Pressly). Unfortunately, Malcolm can’t move on completely as he finds himself being haunted by the ghosts that haunted the previous owners as well as Kisha, who’s returned to make his life hell.
Why bother telling you the rest of what happens? Let’s cut to the chase. This film is horse shit.
Now, I know some of you are wondering why review this movie when I know I’m just gonna take a giant dump on it afterward? Well, I’m just doing my part to steer clear anyone that may be unfamiliar with the first one and seeing this film’s trailer, then debating whether they should see it or not.
I watch these films so you don’t have to.
The late film critic Roger Ebert referred to spoofs as being sorta “critic proof”. You don’t criticize the narrative, characters, pacing and tone in a spoof. They have one motive: setup joke after joke and make sure they work. There was a time when they not only worked, they were great. Airplane!, The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad!, Hot Shots and the underrated Top Secret! are to name a few. But, ever since Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer began delivering spoof after spoof (Date Movie, Epic Movie, you get the point) as funny as it would be to contract “the clap”, the genre took a giant nosedive into a pile human excrement. The very same human excrement that’s probably being used as the punchline to the many jokes that we get in films like these nowadays.
Why are films like these made then? Easy, the first film was made for $2.5 million and grossed nearly $60 million. This film’s budget was just $3 million and will probably make a profit in its opening weekend. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that studios wanna make money. Any rational business wants to make money. It doesn’t matter if a studio films an intern taking a crap on his desk, while two dogs hump each other like there’s no tomorrow next to him, and – well, what the hell, let’s throw in boobies and crotch-kicks galore in with them. If it’s made for cheap and makes a profit, we’ll be seeing Crapping Intern and Humping Dogs 2 coming to a theater near you soon, just like we’ll be seeing A Haunted House 3 getting green-lit any day now.
And a big hooray for all of us ’cause of it.
Marlon Wayans spends most of the movie hamming it up and screaming at the top of his lungs whenever something scary pops up in front of him. Jaime Pressly – for once, not playing trailer trash – probably spent the whole time thinking she should’ve never taken My Name Is Earl for granted. Then there’s the kids, the oldest a slut who plays with her box (a reference to 2012′s The Possession… and to something else), and the youngest a boy who talks to an imaginary, vodka guzzling black man.
What a cute family they all make.
Seriously, what an annoying film. It may be only 87 minutes long, but I swear it felt like watching all three Lord of the Rings films back to back to back. People are gonna get what they wanna see in films like this: the numerous pop culture reference that have no rhyme or reason within the film other than just being a pop culture reference for the sake of having one, as well as poop and pee and boobies and vaginas and penises and crotch-kicking and racial jokes.
Oh, and Marlon Wayans banging a porcelain doll (one of the film’s The Conjuring references) for what seemed like forever (and again later on). Why does he pork the hell out of a doll in pretty much every position and act known to man? What exactly does it have to do with the story? How the hell does it reference The Conjuring? This is too lowbrow for even Rob Schneider fans. Contemplate that.
Does any of it offend me? No. In fact, speaking of racial jokes, one of the best and most memorable jokes from Airplane! was the two jive-talking black passengers who need – of all people – Barbara Billingsley aka June Cleaver to translate for the stewardess. That joke was funny. It was clever and poked fun at the wholesome image of Beaver’s mother. Here, the racial jokes aren’t funny. It’s essentially Gabriel Iglesias lecturing to Marlon Wayans, “Oh, so just ’cause I’m Mexican I have some Low Rider with my family of Mexicans living in it and an obnoxiously loud horn”, only to follow that lecture with a predictable shot of him driving by in a Low Riding, with his family of Mexicans inside with him and blasting the car horn set to La Cucaracha.
Haha. Get it?
Marlon Wayans is talented. Directors like Darren Aronfosky (Requiem for a Dream, by far his best performance) and the Coen brothers (The Ladykillers remake may be mediocre and sub-par to what the Coens do best, but it’s a masterpiece compared to this) saw something in him enough to cast him in their films. He also co-wrote the imperfect yet far superior Scary Movie, and is rumored to be attached to a possible Richard Pryor biopic. Let’s not forget he comes from the family that created In Living Color, a very funny sketch show that launched the careers of Jim Carrey, Jamie Foxx and a few of the Wayans as well. His career may be mostly misses, but he’s done enough to prove to me he’s better than this.
To be fair, this film has one joke that got a laugh out of me. It involves Marlon Wayans jotting notes and asking to himself, “Why they still making Scary Movies after the Wayans left? They suck.” It was a moment of self-referential humor so rare in this film that I actually thought I blacked out from being bombarded by the non-stop stupidity and woke up in a different movie room. Then, another dick joke showed up and reassured me that nope, I was still watching the same film.
Fans of jokes revolving around poop, tits, dicks and hitting people with various objects will flock to this and ensure that a third entry gets made. If you’re looking for much more time-profitable endeavors as an alternative to this film, I recommend placing your hand on a hot stove plate and leaving it there, pissing on an electric fence, french-kissing a rattlesnake, or you can take things down to similar depths with this film by slamming your genitals in a doorway repeatedly. You’re bound for pain, but none of the above can be as painful as this film.
I give A Haunted House 2 an F (0 stars).
Review source: http://silverscreenfanatic.com/2014/04/18/a-haunted-house-2/