In England, Easter holidays mean young people going home to visit their family, swapping some chocolate eggs and watching whatever Pixar film is on the bank holiday TV listings. In America, Easter holidays are Spring Break, which means young people going to a random beach, forgetting what clothes are and doing somebody who is dressed as a sexy version of a Pixar film. Sorry if that’s wrong, Americans, but that’s what Malibu Spring Break teaches me, and if there’s one thing I can trust it’s shit films.
Malibu Spring Break is a film designed for people with such a small attention span that every scene zooms in on the same life ring with MALIBU printed across it. “Here’s where we are, stoners and horny pre-teens! Malibu! Don’t worry, we’ve also written every character’s identifier next to them as they’re introduced as well- you won’t have to use your brain once!”
Michelle is a “party animal”. We know this because within the opening credits she says her bra is too restrictive, before flinging it out of the car. (Yeah, like I’ll believe you were wearing one in the first place, Nipples McGee.) Brianne, her “best friend”, is on hand to yell generic phrases like “Michelle, you’re so crazy!” and “Yeah!” Our 2D heroines are here to crash Uncle Benny’s house, on the one proviso that they throw no parties.
YEAH, TRY TELLING THAT TO WILD PARTY ANIMAL MICHELLE.
You know she’s just gonna throw her top off and get in the shower with Brianne. Why? Because soft core porn is way easier than coming up with a plot. Director Kevin Lewis must live by this principle, because every five minutes it’s breasts again. It’s tedious how many sequences there are of women rolling around in bikinis on the beach. Even the actresses are getting bored of it by the end: Michelle and Brianne go to pump gas and Brianne’s just left touching the windscreen awkwardly. They don’t bother with dialogue either: there’s one conversation that goes:
HILARY: Why the formal attire?
MICHELLE: *shrugs and takes off bikini top*
That said, the dialogue itself is so awful, I’d rather take the audition reel for the Playmate house. The guys say things like “look at this smorgasbord of babe-age.” The camera angles are so jerky the guy operating the camcorder must have MTV Cribs as his sole TV exposure. Every conversation between Michelle and Gloria (Playmate Pilar Lastra) takes place in a constantly rotating angle, to the extent that you may feel dizzy.
I recommend doing anything else in the world because Malibu Spring Break just made me really sad. A little part of me is convinced that it’s everything wrong with America in a film. Just…don’t. No.
Rating: Egg-ceptionally awful. (One star)