Little Box of Horrors: Party Bus to Hell
Party Bus to Hell is just about everything wrong with edge-lord cinema. This film is C-movie filth with none of the charm of the bad movies that it apes.
Red Light Special
Well, I’m outside the Price Chopper on Miracle Mile in Lebanon NH. It’s a store all about value-via-bludgeoning, if the name is to be believed. So why not queue up some low budget slasher flicks? It’ll be a miracle if I survive.
Let’s round up the campers and see which one gets covered in red!
- Strangers: Prey at Night. One Redbox Review summed it up ominously: “Not as good as the first one”. If you aren’t even as good as your first straight to DVD film, what the hell are you doing? Did you forget to put the red food coloring in your Karo?
- Party Bus to Hell. What’s scarier? A bus besieged by a thrill kill cult, or that Tara Reid was the best they could do for star-power?
- Cannibal Farm. Ok, it’s the clichéd “family goes somewhere remote to bond, promptly gets terrorized” formula. But it’s set in Britain? I hope the killer has a fantastic accent, serves his victims tea, and only kills people who aren’t fans of Manchester United.
Who drew the short straw in tonight’s test of courage?
Party Bus to Hell (2017)
Burning man is a festival where 18 year olds do a ton of drugs and burn things to an EDM soundtrack. So of course this bus heading to the festival is full of predatory men in their late twenties looking to get laid. And lesbians, because I guess they are totally as bad and deserving of punishment (fuck you, film). When the bus stops in the middle of nowhere (well, not the middle of nowhere these reprobates were looking for), the group find themselves surrounded by a death worshipping cult. Luckily the bus is damn near impenetrable. Unluckily that means we have to spend 120 minutes in a bus with these losers.
Also Tara Reid is in this movie… until she isn’t.
If You Can’t Say Anything Nice…
This will be a pretty short review. Because Party Bus to Hell doesn’t merit much more than the 120 minutes I wasted watching it. This review will also be pretty scant in pictures, as there doesn’t seem to be a second of this film’s runtime that doesn’t have a bare breast or two in it. Which leads me to pretty much my feeling on this film: it’s soft core pornography, with similar acting values, but very mean spirited. Like they got the guys from a revenge porn website to write and direct it. It’s sleazy, it’s crass, and everyone in it besides Tara Reid gravely mistakes being an asshole for being “snarky”.
Not to let Tara Reid off easy; the ten minutes she appears in this film are incoherent. She’s so crazy, any semblance of acting she had back in the National Lampoon’s days have been eradicated by the mania. Then the bus hits her. What this movie does literally to Tara’s character is what I hope it does professionally to everyone involved in this film.
All other aspects of the film are amateurish. The supporting cast appear to be aspiring porn starlets and wannabe WWE goons. They aren’t directed into anything approaching choreography. The dialogue is just back and forth insults and petulance; sadly the only person that was able to deliver them with any polish was the biggest douche-bag in the film. The camera work is probably the only thing that wasn’t god-awful; it was just merely bad. They even came up with their own theme song, aptly called “Party Bus to Hell”. It was one casio keyboard auto-program away from being the chintziest thing in a very chintzy film.
Well, it wouldn’t be another year of Little Box of Horrors without me finding a film I disliked enough to become an adversary of the people who made it. It’s not like I despise immature, horny films: I did really like Revenge of the Nerds back in the day. I also don’t have a beef with splat-stick: Everyone at Deluxe Video Online is on Team Raimi, and I got a hoot out of most of the Troma films growing up. The difference is two fold: most of those films had at least something to say; and they had fun doing it. Party Bus to Hell isn’t saying anything other than “women are meat”, and the film is so ill-mannered and “edgy” that it was a chore to watch.
Since I was the only one to avoid watching our Will Smith double dare, it seems only fitting that I got stuck with this turd-sandwich instead. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go watch some re-runs of Fresh Prince of Bel Air: at least that had fun and a bitchin’ soundtrack.