cofemug

Short skit movies are part of the cinematic language in the couple of decades after Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In made ADHD-esquire scenarios a hit, and both National Lampoon and Mad Magazine became national treasures (that have both failed at living up to their reputation of late).

In a way, the movies are far and few enough to almost be thought of in terms of clichéd relationships. The Kentucky Fried movie is like your overly-knowledgeable film geek friend who cracks you up. The Groove Tube is like that stoner friend of yours who can't get his mind out of the gutter. Amazon Women on the Moon is your sci-fi geek. And, Imps* is like that stupid uncle that comes over retelling all of the off-color jokes you read on the internet or through viral videos last year, but dumbs them down and doesn't know how to finish the joke.

IMPS* (The Immoral Minority Picture Show) is a collection of skits meant to push the boundaries of good taste, and be a spiteful middle finger to the moral majority. And, it may have pushed some boundaries when it was filmed 25-30 years ago, though I doubt it. Since it was released straight-to-DVD in 2009, the jokes have gotten stale, bland, and feel tame as all hell. In addition, almost all the skits that even think about working either end on a wah-wah trumpet note, or just get lost and should have ended 3 seconds sooner so the finale never comes. Python had it right in that you should escape before the skit goes bad.

IMPS* has no less than 4 skits about deodorant and BO. OOOO, edgy. 1 would have been just fine, thank you. The rest of the skits, with few lasting over 2-3 minutes, are a hodge podge of one-liner adaptations or expansions on older-than-dirt jokes. The best ones include Linda Blair in Don't Scream on my Face, and Wendy Jo Sperber's song about spousal abuse and S&M. The rest just go flat.

And, it isn't good pain to watch this.