Would you like to see Napoleon Dynamite butchered to death and left out to bleed together with other prime cut selections of the world’s greatest films? You would? Why then, go see Hot Rod.

I really shouldn’t have to detail anything about this film beyond the fact that I saw a group of adolescent boys run out of the theater in the middle of it. When the slap stick comedy of a ‘Saturday Night Live’ star like Andy Samberg flops flat on its face according to the tastes of prepubescent male-hood, it’s pretty evident it can’t choke a laugh out of anyone. I certainly wasn’t amused.

Let me tell you, copy cat movies are never funny, even when their stolen jokes are reproduced well. What else can an audience feel but overwhelming guilt as they watch the hijacked humor of a classic, cut and plastered in a short-lived knock off?

What I felt watching Hot Rod was far worse than guilt. I felt saddened; I felt sick; I felt shamed. The movie lifted almost its entire plot from other films, raped the material of quality mid-air, and finally let it splatter itself in a wretched mess on screen.

When I sat down in the theater to watch Hot Rod, I was annoyed when I discovered that the screen was cracked. Thirty seconds into the movie, I realized why the silver surface was fissured, and why the theater hadn’t bothered to replace it until the screenings of Hot Rod are over forever.

I humble myself to a plot summary: Samberg stars as Rod Kimble, a twenty something, unemployed, live-at-home bum who spends all his time injuring himself attempting stunts so old they needn’t ever be attempted again. What’s supposed to justify this stupidity is Kimble’s desire to resurrect the magnificence of his father, a man he believes was a professional stunt guy who died valiantly while motorcycle-jumping over multiple busses. Rod does his stunts clad in a home made cape, in the company of his slacker ‘crew’, despite the criticism of his stepfather, Frank (Ian McShane) and the disappointment of his mother (Sissy Spacek.) Rod has always been disillusioned by never being strong enough to ‘kick Frank’s ass.’ But Frank’s heart starts to fail and the family can’t pay for a transplant. So Rod decides to attempt a record breaking bus-jumping stunt to earn the money to restore Frank to health and beat him in a physical brawl once and for all.

I think Hot Rod really meant to call itself “I Want to Be Napoleon Dynamite Really, Really Badly!” The costumes, the bad eighties music, the physical humor: all of this desperately tries to emulate a film forever in a league of its own. Try as the director, Akiva Schaffer, might, Rod’s sidekick “Rico” is no “Pedro” and Rod’s dancing trips up big time compared to Napoleon’s moves. Impromptu dance groove only work once.

The talents of Napoleon Dynamite’s cast and crew aren’t the only ones Hot Rod ripped off of. There’s one scene, where Rod watches his love interest swing a coat over her shoulder to meet her boyfriend in front of a stunning red-hot muscle car, which was surprisingly reminiscent of Ferris Bueller's Day Off. I am not normally this apt at catching stolen jokes, but I believe Hot Rod even stole one-liners from an act of the D-list’s comic, Kathy Griffin. Hot Rod was that bad.

Aside from wanting to know how terrible films like this ever get made, I want to know just how in the world the casting director of Hot Rod got a hold of Sissy Spacek. What’s most terrible about her involvement in this film is that Hot Rod is the first flick where I’ve seen Sissy just look…old. Perhaps it was the process of filming this crap movie that aged her; either way, Hot Rod was a terrible time to cut off her hair and try out the geriatric look.

In all fairness, Sissy wasn’t the only actor Hot Rod mad me feel bad for. Will Arnett was hilarious as Rod’s competition in capturing the love of Denise (Isla Fisher .) Fisher was cute and in character the entire time; this left her as awkwardly out of place as Spacek. The I Know Who Killed Me crash-and-burn ending to Lindsay Lohan’s career was enough of a beating to Hollywood’s already slight supply of red-headed starlets this year. Why, why is the film industry set on crucifying the careers of other big name ginger glamazons like Spacek and Fisher?

I digress. The real career kicker was earned by Samberg, who couldn’t stay in one character, and looked stupid in every persona he did manage to embrace consistently for more than six seconds. Hot Rod was horrible, and I don’t ever want to hear of Samberg getting a feature flick again.

Liz Licorish
To Comment on this review email: LizFlix@elitestv.com