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If you've ever been in a car wreck, maybe you've felt the inkling that sets in when you first hear the screeching breaks: Please, please, please just get the crunching, clunking crash over with so I can assess the damage and (hopefully) get on with my life.
That's the way I felt at Bubba Ho-Tep, though I seemed to be in the minority, judging from the raucous laughter and applause from the almost-full theater.
The movie's premise is clever: Elvis Presley and John F. Kennedy are alive and kicking it in an East Texas retirement home. When terror strikes in mummy form, they gear up to confront the evil forces and make the home safe again. The acting was impressive, and the intended campiness and dreams of creating a new cult classic were clear. But hope for its future? Overcast, at best.
Had they accomplished their mission in a 20-minute short, my applause would have been mixed in with the rest. Instead, it took two juvenile hours of obvious Elvis humor, JFK historical references and a few excretory and/or penile jokes before the flick would finally flicker.