Pretty Good

Story: It's very simple but honestly that is fine.

A terrific literary drama and character piece that shows how the process of creating art can be seen differently by those doing it and those looking at it from the outside.

It’s not bad or unwatchable but despite the amplitude of the spectacle, the end result is underwhelming.

I am a fan of cheese, shlock, and camp in horror from time to time, but without a modicum of restraint and some semblance of narrative gravity it's impossible for it to work. What some people don't enjoy, or appreciate, or perhaps don't even understand is that it takes a measure of talent to make a so-bad-it's-good movie. One can't simply throw together a film absent meaning with the expectation that B-movie lovers will latch on.Killer Pad fails on almost every level imaginable. I'm not sure whether to say the acting is over the top or just non-existent. As others have noted, there is a noticeable homoerotic undercurrent between the three leads, not in the least dispelled by the fact that none of them have sex, the strange boy-cuddliness they share, or that the only nudity is a fat, hairy butt. As far as the script goes, these characters behave completely nonsensically. There is only the pervasive notion to "get laid" throughout the entire movie. As a result of this alternate reality in which all this happens the deaths are neither shocking nor meaningful and it is impossible to connect with and thus have any sympathy for the 3 repressed buffoons. As a note to any filmmaker reading this: no one over the age of 9 or 10 thinks fecal humor is funny let alone the gratuitous scene presented in Killer Pad!!! The remainder of the jokes are unfunny at best, downright painful at worst. This concept of the American comedy as a sort of live cartoon has been done far better before, even in the horror genre, and frankly wasn't all that funny to begin with.The special effects are among the worst ever conceived and ought to have been omitted in favor of the expected nudity. Deaths were tragically uninventive especially for what sick and grotesque methods you'd think Satan himself could come up withOverall Killer Pad is a steaming pile of incomprehensible garbage. There isn't a shred of emotion, suspense, shock, humor, or even decent gore to hold more than 5 minutes of this film together. Avoid at all costs.

Now, how should I describe it? Trash-Comedy may be fitting enough for this production of doubtfull and very limited entertainment value. It's one of those "don't trust the cover"-Movies, which promise more, than they can offer. The story is somewhat ridiculous, the dialogues aren't funny at all and the special effects are some of the worst I've ever seen. This might be the fist time, that I actually have pretty much the same opinion as the rating. If you have absolutely nothing better to do and watch, try starring at the sun. Let's hope that this movie returns to where it came from: The pits of hell.I give it 2 stars out of 10, because there were at least some nice women and some very few funny scenes, which of course can't make up for the rest.

The once great Freddy Kruger and horror B-Movie Icon Robert Englund knows horror, right? Absolutely. Comedy? Kinda. Making films? Eh, not too bad.So, Dude, Where's My Salvation, or Killer Pad, is a leave-your-brain-at-the-door comedy-horror with actors who, honestly, tried their best. Maybe my heart was softened for once, I am supposed to hate this kind of movie, after all, but I honestly thought this was harmless fun. And if the three main dudes didn't put so much energy into their slacking & wise-cracking roles, this movie would've collapsed into the depths of direct-to-video Hell.Three east coast dudes, Doug, Craig and Brody (Franzese, Jungmann and McRae) who think it's 1,300 miles from Arizona to California, embark on the rebirth of their life and of course, chicks, man. The first crappy apartment falls through and they're too dense to see the "too good to be true" multimillion dollar city view "pad" is way out of their price range. Heck, it's out of six of me. Luckily they had the ever hilarious Bobby Lee (playing Winnie a female real estate agent who's "strangely" not affected by the housing crisis) introduce them to a place to get the ladies who wouldn't normally pay them a glance.Enter every cliché involving a "HOUSE BUILT ON NATIVE American CEMETERIES" and you have the rest of the movie where these fools, though sweet hearted BFFs, host a house party with pretty chicks and the stereotypical males, including Joey Lawrence as himself and the inevitable little person and the night goes…to…hell.You have to…HAVE TO…know what you're getting yourself into. It's completely and utterly silly but it's fun to watch how these doofuses handle each situation – i.e. the exact opposite from any rational person. In fact, a live action Scooby-Doo was my thoughts of these three guys.Again, the guys have such energy, you have to give them kudos for the material they're given. And Englund, who surprisingly didn't make a cameo, didn't do a bad job at direction. Most special effects worked, but the ones that didn't – i.e. twisting head and the ladies falling into hell in the closing – were just plain awful. Not funny, just bad.Seriously, I laughed and some of the ongoing jokes were funny so I would recommend, slightly. It's not set to win awards, but perhaps a good drinking game.

I'll still go with Return of the Boogeyman as the worst movie of all time, but this dud's in my bottom twenty. That's quite an accomplishment. I give very few movies a "1," but this sucker deserves less.Here's the deal. Three teens rent a near-mansion (that they consider a "pad") above the portal to hell. The best parts of this movie (plot, sense, meaning) are awful. What lowers this beneath most other train wrecks is the strive for comedy in every single word uttered by the ugly, flamboyant, s*** eating leads. Honestly, I'd rather have spent 84 minutes in a highway rest stop on National Chili Day.This is the kind of steaming pile that nobody involved with will ever want anything to do with. The actors will blame the director for their bad performances, the director will blame producers about creative control, and producers will blame everyone but themselves.