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The result in Meet the Spartans is less classic Mel Brooks than middling Best Week Ever.
This was the worst movie I've ever seen, so bad that I hesitate to label it a 'movie' and thus reflect shame upon the entire medium of film.
I'm moving to Europe.
It's so bad even Carmen Electra should be embarrassed.
It's a MADtv or Saturday Night Live sketch dressed up in feature-length clothing. It's way too much of an OK thing. And the way-too-much-ness goes on and on.
While there's enough comedic material there for as many as three somewhat tolerable minutes of MADtv, Meet The Spartans gamely alternates between unfunny gay jokes and violent pratfalls for a good 80 minutes.
Meet The Spartans? For those unlucky enough to be lured into the cinema, there's every chance you'll be wanting to meet your maker instead.
Because this movie was written for 10-year-olds, it assumes that those 10-year-olds are the stupidest 10-year-olds alive.
What does it say about a film with an hour running time that has twenty minutes of outtakes after the credits to reach theatrical length? Very little that's positive.
While still not a grand work of art, Meet the Spartans improves upon the formula established in the earlier parodies of Friedberg and Seltzer.
Years later, I still was in love and looked up the organization (took quite a bit of digging and calling around LOL) just so I could find out who the song was. I saw a local Indian organization do a rendition of this dance at the International Food and Folklife Festival years ago. Kabhi khushi kabhie gham streaming.
It's not very good at all, but I did manage to laugh at some moments of sudden pratfalls and comic violence, but the talkshow reference mentality has to go!
A bizarre, leering orgy of celebrity crotches, lowbrow horny gay buffoons in leather, moronic gladiator mayhem, and too-much-information cascading bodily fluids galore.