Club Dread

Sex and death is the new rock-and-roll. Broken Lizard says so.

These lizard people are five comedians, who made a name for themselves on the stand-up circuit, before breaking into movieland in 2001 with Super Troopers, a critically acclaimed cop spoof. Club Dread is their third collaboration. Their second, Puddle Cruiser, won Best Film at the Hampton's Film Festival, but has yet to be seen in cinemas across the pond.

The target of their acidic wit is slasher flicks and Laid-U-Must singles holiday romps. Wit is the first casualty, followed by half the staff on this party island and a number of oversexed guests. A man wearing a voodoo mask and a tartan rug goes around macheting semi-clothed girls and goofy guys. Why? Don't ask. Put your head in a bucket of blood and blow bubbles out of your bum.

Gross comedy is difficult to criticise, because its raison d'etre depends on a taste malfunction. As long as the common denominator is lower than Jackass, who cares? The murders are hideous, it has to be said, but, hey!, untwist those knickers, dude, this is Scream in paradise.

The main culprits are Coconut Pete (Bill Paxton, slumming it), a faded rock star who owns the island where boatloads of rowdy swingers arrive weekly to be entertained by Sam (Erik Stolhanske) and his team of gamesters, including Pete's stoner nephew Dave (Paul Soter), the official DJ and drugs tsar. The sexiest staff member is aerobics teacher Jenny (Brittany Daniel) and the biggest waste of space Putman (director/co-writer Jay Chandrasekhar), a tennis coach, with the worst English accent since Dick Van Dyke.

The plot is slash-and-run. The mysterious killer has no trouble slicing the life out of rabbit-scared holidaymakers and turning the island into a cesspit. When the boats are sabotaged and the phone lines cut, the audience is trapped. There is no escape - laugh or die!

You may prefer the latter. Laughter is too painful.