The trailer for new horror comedy 'Hell Baby' has dropped giving us a glimpse of exorcisms, bad language, and fearsome foetuses.
Hell Baby is about to implant itself within US cinemas with a comedy horror experience that follows the story of Vanessa , played by Leslie Bibb (Confessions of a Shopaholic, Iron Man 2) and her husband Jack, played by Rob Corddry (Hot Tub Time Machine, Blades of Glory) as they move into a dilapidated New Orleans house with dreams of fixing it up, but the expectant couple miss the warning signs of 'Maison de Sang' (House of Blood), and know little of the house's dark history. Soon Vanessa begins acting in a disturbing, almost possessed way, requiring the intervention of two Vatican exorcists to find out what's really growing inside the housewife's body.
Something Strange Is About To Emerge From Leslie Bibb...
Hell Baby writer-directors Thomas Lennon and Robert Ben Garant are known for their work on Reno 911! and Night at the Museum and Hell Baby will be the pair's directorial debut together. The trailer promises a lewd, crude affair, with plenty of lampooning of classic paranormal horror clichés, such as scenes from the notorious The Exorcist. The film is low-budget and low-brow, with the trailer only giving a flavour of the boobs, f-bombs and over-the-top gore that is to come.
Vanessa and Jack are a loved up couple expecting their first child, with dreams of fixing up a dilapidated old house in New Orleans neighbourhood. Little do they know of the house's history and just why it hasn't been inhabited for so many years, but they are about to find it. A visit from their rather unconstructive new neighbour F'Resnel tells them that the building is nicknamed Maison de Sang - in English, House of Blood. Strange things begin to happen to the couple, with Vanessa displaying some extremely odd and disturbing behaviour leaving Jack with no choice but to call upon her psychiatrist and her sister Marjorie to help him find out what appears to be possessing her. Meanwhile, two exorcists from the Vatican are called to the house to do their own research into the demonic presence.
Continue: Hell Baby Trailer
Chaikin begins by shredding some of lawyerdom's most notorious facets -- the growth of frivolous lawsuits, ambulance chasers, and absurd warnings on products urging you not to ingest them -- then abruptly turns his attention to a group of aspiring lawyers who are set to take the Bar Exam in a few weeks' time. Here we witness the grueling preparations required for the three-day exam (including sample questions), and the strong likelihood that our subjects will not pass anyway: In California, the Bar has an average pass rate of just 39 percent. What, no more new lawyers!?
Continue reading: A Lawyer Walks Into A Bar... Review
With Run Fatboy Run, the directorial debut of Friends' David Schwimmer, Pegg moves up in the world and proves that he can, indeed, carry a movie. Written by Michael Ian Black, a seminal member of the comedy troupe/television show The State, Fatboy tells the story of Dennis (Pegg), a 1980s reject who gets the daft idea to leave his pregnant wife Libby (Thandie Newton) at the altar. A few years later, he has a gut, works security for a lingerie shop, and must vie for the attention of his son and once-fiancé against Whit (Hank Azaria), a healthy businessman who wants to marry Libby. This passive-aggressive tête-à-tête finally leads Dennis to attempting to compete in the same marathon as Whit.
Continue reading: Run Fatboy Run Review
Here's the setup: Hopeless romantic/loser Anderson (Jason Biggs, playing his usual persona yet again) proposes to his girlfriend so elaborately that she has a heart attack and dies on the spot. He mopes endlessly until his best friend (Michael Weston) goads him into getting back in the game. Anderson misunderstands... and proposes to the next girl he sees, Katie (Isla Fisher), the waitress at the diner where they're eating. It just so happens that Katie was proposed to the very day before all this happens; she doesn't want to marry that guy, so she agrees to marry Anderson on the spot. Who'd a thunk?
Continue reading: Wedding Daze Review
But there is hope at your local video store -- Wet Hot American Summer, a hysterical spoof on 1980s pop culture featuring several members of The State, the sketch comedy troupe which had its own, brilliant MTV show in the mid-1990s. (Note to younger readers: That was before Cribs and The Real World were run in a continuous loop.)
Continue reading: Wet Hot American Summer Review
The guy in question here is Elliot Sherman (Showalter), a dishwater dull C.P.A. whose grandmother had a word for nice guys like him who never got the girl: a Baxter. Played by Showalter as a nerdy bore with a basically decent disposition, Elliot is on the verge of starting a minor flirtation with Cecil (Michelle Williams), the temp filling in for his sick secretary, when in walks his WASP-ily gorgeous new client Caroline (Elizabeth Banks), who promptly sweeps him off his feet with her Ralph Lauren-ad-ready looks. Although it's difficult to see why such a bombshell as Caroline would fall for a guy the film spends so much time trying to make look like a first-degree schlub, the oddball pairing does make for some decent comic contretemps, and easily sets up Elliot's downfall when Caroline's ex-boyfriend, Bradley, shows up. A darkly handsome, adventurous, and wealthy scientist who likes to quote Keats and isn't afraid of showing his sensitive side, Bradley (Justin Theroux, slyly magnificent) is like kryptonite to a Baxter, and the rest of the film is just biding time until the inevitable happens.
Continue reading: The Baxter Review
Never before have I seen a movie try so hard to be deliberately awful -- and succeed so wildly -- as "Wet Hot American Summer," a nickel-budget sketch-comedy spoof of early '80s teen sex-at-camp romps like "Little Darlings" and "Meatballs."
Created by veterans of cable "Saturday Night Live" knock-offs "The State" and "Upright Citizens' Brigade," it's a loose jumble of too-obvious jabs at the genre through stock characters in grossly under-rehearsed vignettes that are absentmindedly filmed and edited together without rhythm and apparently at random.
You've got your dorky virgin (Michael Showalter) making an ass of himself for the unattainable girl (Marguerite Moreau). She prefers the inimical, self-styled stud in the jean jacket (the under-appreciated Paul Rudd in the movie's only truly funny performance). He, in turn, prefers the company of your ubiquitous pubescent sluts in tube tops.
Continue reading: Wet Hot American Summer Review