| Cast overview, first billed only: | |||
| Ashley Tisdale | ... | ||
| Simon Rex | ... | ||
| Gracie Whitton | ... | ||
| Ava Kolker | ... | ||
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Dylan Morris | ... | |
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Ryan Morris | ... | |
| Lidia Porto | ... | ||
| Darrell Hammond | ... | ||
| Snoop Dogg | ... | ||
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Mac Miller | ... | |
| Erica Ash | ... |
Kendra Brooks
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| J.P. Manoux | ... |
Pierre
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| Molly Shannon | ... | ||
| Josh Robert Thompson | ... |
Narrator
(voice)
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| Marisa Saks | ... |
Amy
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Happily-married couple Dan and Jody begin to notice some bizarre activity once they bring their lost nieces and nephew home. But when the chaos expands into Jody's job as a ballet dancer and Dan's career as an Ape researcher, they realize their family is being stalked by a nefarious demon. Together, with the advice of a psychic and the aid of numerous surveillance cameras, they must figure out how to get rid of it before it's too late. Written by Dimension Films
The latest installment in the series of lazy spoofs, this film offers virtually nothing to its audience, insulting their intelligence for an hour-and-a-half with perhaps the worst collection of blatantly uninspired and recycled gags ever put to into a film.
The horrendous excuse for a plot centers on a suburban wife (Ashley Tisdale) and her dimwitted husband (Simon Rex) moving into a haunted house with their possessed adopted children. From there, the film parodies the biggest blockbusters of the last few years, but does so without a semblance of relevance, creativity or wit.
It says a lot about the film that the only half-laughs to be had come from Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan sharing the opening scene an incredibly stupid and borderline cringe-worthy, but inexplicably entertaining chuckle at their fall from grace.
It's all downhill from there as the rest of the film plays out as a series of unconnected set pieces seen literally hundreds of times before. Often, such an unappealing movie is still able to salvage hope by suiting itself for a target market, but it is hard to see any audience group, from 15 year old to stoner, defending this abomination.
One would have to drink Lindsay under the table, smoke copious amounts of bud with Snoop Dogg and/or Lion and snort pure tiger blood with Charlie to even come close to drawing any semblance of enjoyment from this disaster. An imminent sweep of this year's Razzies doesn't seem like ironic punishment enough for one of the worst films ever made.