Jimmy Winterpock at age fourteen is 5'5 and weighs 188 pounds. Outside the comfort of his family and church, life for Jimmy is a constant struggle. The cruel taunts of his classmates make ... See full summary »
After being accepted into renowned actor Matt Turner's acting class, ingenuous Alexis moves to Atlanta to pursue her dream of being an actor, even though she has no experience. She goes on a fun filled hilarious journey as she deals with culture, ignorant actors, and the big city.
When someone starts using the business end of a pair of hedgeclippers on the more snobbish patrons of a posh country club, rumors fly the slice-n'-dice handiwork is the signiture of The Greenskeeper, a serial killer long thought dead from an explosion years ago. Allen, whose mother owns the country club, begins having nightmare visions where he is haunted by The Greenskeeper. Allen begins to suspect he may have a connection to The Greenskeeper he never dared imagine. Meanwhile, the beautiful jetsetters of the club decide to sneak in after hours for some skinny-dipping, partying, and sex-on-the-green. Unfortunately for the teens, The Greenskeeper decides to crash the party, and armed with golf equipment and landscaping tools, begins picking off Izods one by one. Joining forces with his new love interest Elena, Allen races to the club to try to save his friends. He and Elena must play a deadly game of cat and mouse to survive, because when you have a tee time with The Greenskeeper, it's...Written by
It's really hard to tell if this a spoof or a serious slasher movie. It obviously has an attempt at humor, but the spoofs are lame and poorly directed. Not a good spoof nor a good campy feature. Baseball bigot John Rocker lumbers through a few scenes and the scenes themselves look to be nearly all first-takes. The only entertainment you'll get here is the bad dialog, bad acting, and cheapo sets. I doubt that's what they were aiming for, however. I don't believe this to be THAT clever of a film. Some of the scenes take place at the swanky country club that looks like somebody's back yard in an Atlanta suburb, and the golf course maintenance building scenes look to be a three-walled $100 set with a few cliché gardening props lying around. There's lost of drug references and local flunkie Atlanta DJ Steve Rickman attempts to create a funny country club tennis-pro character. His big scene with the automatic tennis server is minimally funny and proves that just because you're funny on the radio doesn't mean it transfers to the visual medium.
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