Poltergeist (2015)

Poltergeist: the 2015 reboot/reimagining/contemporary remake of the classic 1982 film.

Starring: half the cast of Mad Men, the obligatory sour-faced teenage girl, the two sweet-as-cherry-pie son and daughter who haven't hit puberty yet, a mediocre willow tree, no dog, a clown doll that no one in their right mind would buy for their kid and the Ghost House logo which immediately killed any trace of hope left clinging to the walls of my soul.

And the parents don't even smoke pot.
Can I have some? I'm gonna need it.

And the first jumpscare is devoted to: a squirrel.
Sorry, bad timing on your part, movie. I narrowly avoided being murdered by a squirrel just three days ago, when I foolishly lifted the lid of a public trash can in which to stash my fetid garbage, when out of the darkness screamed a brown fuzzy ball of outrage, whose tiny back paws launched themselves off of the springboard of my chest and whose bushy tail of impending doom gave the side of my face a damn good swat before it disappeared into the trees and proceeded to violently insult me with a series of barks, chuffs and chitters.

Oh hey, thanks movie. Thanks for reinforcing the stereotype that all retail wage slaves are dead-eyed, gum-chomping bags full of hate with a void where their personalities should be.

Alright so, The McPrecious Family moves into their new house.
Weird shit starts happening.

Only youngest son Griffin and youngest daughter Madison see what's happening. Maddie is okay with it, Griffin is freaked out. Their parents are too busy to listen to their kids and daughter Kendra is, like, totally not even, ya know? Setting mood? Nah, fuck that. Creating a strong sense of the family bond? Shit yo, we got things to do. So 30 minutes into the story (or the shallow kiddie pool henceforth to be known as The Story) the parents head out to a dinner party where they are told that their new house sits atop an old graveyard, the kids are left home with Kendra the built in babysitter and a bigass storm descends over the neighborhood - a neighborhood where zero time has been spent building up a sense of community and feels about as lived-in as a Levitz display.

Alright so here come the shit splattering against that proverbial fan.

Kendra's in the kitchen, getting pulled down into a bubbly puddle of what looks like poppyseed streudel filling. Little Grif has just evaded strangulation by clown doll and is now being ripped out of the house by a tree branch which looks a little too much like Raimi's last attempt at a tree branch fondling for comfort. Carol Anne uh Maddie has walked serenely into her bedroom closet and descended into Hell, without benefit of a wind machine. Anticlimactic, to say the least. The build-up of suspense? The pay-off moment in an explosion of danger, fear and turmoil? Nah, who needs it!

 And here come mom and dad, confused but not traumatized. In general, the whole family seems only slightly agitated by the fact that their daughter is now a static ghost on the other side of the television screen. How will they fit saving her into their busy schedule of racquet ball and Rotary?

44 minutes and the paranormal investigating team sets up shop in the Freeling Bowen home, where nothing at all is happening. Oh, except for the chair that slams itself against the wall into splinters in reaction to an arrogant jerkwad camera mans utter failure to be impressed by the lack of activity present. Would that it had been Brian Harnois. Boozy dad starts barfing up grave dirt and worms, which I suppose will have to suffice in place of an exploding piece of maggoty chicken and a dude ripping his face off.

"Are we gonna die of boredom, sis?"

One hour in. Doop-de-doo, humma humma humma, *various fart noises* Bored. BORED boredboredboredbored, lalala, dipty doodaloo, booger. Yawn. yakyakyak, oh hey look, Tangina Barrons and Quint from Jaws had a baby and instead of sharks, he hunts ghosts. Hey chiefy, we're gonna need a bigger Ouija board. Talky talk talker...backstory blahblahblah, christ DO SOMETHING! Is anything gonna happen EVER?! I've spent more time wringing my hands and being stressed out over a goddamned TOOTHPASTE commercial! Oh my GOD, can the cavity demons be overcome and perhaps destroyed forever? WILL the extra long handle REALLY reach all of the back molars, delivering a deep clean you can actually feel?

Jesus. One hour and nine minutes later and they're still just standing around talking, setting up equipment, giving us backstory material that would be worth more in a remnant bin, using drone technology to explore the mouth of Hell...yes, you heard me right. Drone camera reveals a ghost reality draped over the physical one, where bald, slimy, gray beings flail and writhe. Little brother Griffin, driven by a guilty conscience, plunges into the closet void in search of his sister. Ahab spouts some pseudo-priesty stuff. The kids come back through the portal in the ceiling and all seems well, and big sis gets a "This House Is Clean!" ringtone for her new iPhone and all is...oh. We're not going to wait the standard week or so to lull us into a false sense of security? We're gonna start this shit all over again in the fucking driveway?

Maddie gets sucked back into the house, up the stairs and teeters precariously at the edge of the sinister closet while Mom halfheartedly tries to yank her back. Frankly, if she had even a split second thought of: "Oh fuck it, let the brat go and I can start over in Berkeley as a slam poet in a coffee house." I wouldn't have blamed her. Mr. TV Psychic throws himself into the closet to try and guide the dead to the light, seeing this as his last chance to redeem himself after years of faking it for ratings. The house starts imploding, the ground starts vomiting up CGI cadavers covered in goo and...this takes place in Illinois? Why?

The End

Lame.