Prom Night is Hurtin’ for a Squirtin’

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No one expects anything from Sony’s week away remake of 1980’s PROM NIGHT directed by Nelson McCormick. The flick was a non-issue. I’ve seen the trailer, may as well have seen the movie. I was resigned to seeing it out of review obligation. A simple enough plan until I read Callum Waddell’s piece on the film in the April issue of Fangoria and proceeded to be awestruck by the tsunami of stupidity pouring forth from producer/writer J.S. Cardone and director McCormick. I read their ruminations on the genre and the inventiveness of their “psychological thriller” (Cardone’s own words) while staring at the glossy production images furnished for Fango, each still looking like the ‘cast’ of “THE HILLS” with a slightly agape jaw.

Something started to happen to me during all of this. It was as if each sentence was daring me to see PROM NIGHT. The film’s release this Friday is no longer a non-issue. I won’t be buying a ticket for a movie, I will be purchasing admission to a cage match. I don’t want to see PROM NIGHT anymore (not that I did before), I want to beat the shit out of it. And when I pull some of the Fango quotes in a few seconds, you’ll understand just why I want to hold PROM NIGHT’s face to a belt sander.

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