Bloody Horror Thriller ‘MaXXXine’ Can’t Reach Heights of Predecessors

Bloody Horror Thriller ‘MaXXXine’ Can’t Reach Heights of Predecessors

By Lynn Venhaus

Bursting with style and verve, director Ti West’s “MaXXXine” features yet another outstanding Mia Goth performance, but sacrifices heart in its unwieldy embrace of the past.

Taking place in 1985, West’s film continues the story of Maxine Minx (Goth), the sole survivor of the horrific massacre detailed in the 1979-set “X,” in which octogenarian psycho-killer Pearl (also played by Goth) and her husband Howard (Stephen Ure) murdered the cast and crew of a pornagraphic film shooting on their Texas farm.

Having fled the scene before police arrived, and after squashing Pearl’s head like a pumpkin under the wheel of a pickup truck, Maxine is now trying to make a name for herself in Hollywood, an epicenter of the Satanic Panic. She’s built a robust career in the adult film industry, distancing herself as much as possible from the Texas bloodbath and her televangelist father. 

Tough, hardened, and almost scarily determined, Maxine works ‘round the clock to pay the bills and make a name for herself, rushing from strip clubs to porn shoots to downtown peep shows in her white, vanity-plated convertible. Ultimately, Maxine seeks mainstream stardom, and when we first meet her, she’s crushing an audition for a lead role in an upcoming horror film called “The Puritan II,” helmed by no-nonsense director Elizabeth Bender (Elizabeth Debicki).

It’s not getting the part that’s the challenge, though; it’s keeping it, as Maxine’s friends and co-workers start dying grotesque deaths, possibly at the hand of the Night Stalker, who led a very-real reign of terror over LA. The situation is further complicated by the arrival of gold-toothed private eye John Labat (Kevin Bacon), who seemingly works for the killer and threatens to unearth Maxine’s traumatic history, as well two local cops (Michelle Monaghan and Bobby Cannavale) who grow increasingly suspicious about Maxine’s involvement in the murders. 

Maxine wants to leave it all behind and pursue her dreams, but she can only outrun her past for so long. Eventually, she must confront it head on, fighting to transform into the Star she’s yearned to become, no matter the cost.

Indeed, “MaXXXine” is a vastly different film from its predecessors, eschewing the ‘70s grittiness of “X” and the technicolor nightmare of “Pearl” to pay tribute to the Video Nasty era of the 1980s, leaning into B-movie tropes. For no matter how engaging “MaXXXine” is in the moment — with immersive scene-setting and plenty of memorable kills — it becomes a disappointingly emotionless experience. 

Its numerous threads (each potentially compelling on their own) aren’t given time to breathe or leave a lasting impact. But there’s still an irresistible quality to “MaXXXine” that grows upon further reflection. West’s film is fully committed to its influences, and it takes big swings that, if only intermittently successful, are always interestingly flawed.

Goth gives a typically excellent performance, portraying Maxine as a damaged, fiercely determined anti-hero who wants to leave her trauma behind and carve a bloody new path for herself in the name of pure ambition. There’s little doubt that West and Goth want us to root for Maxine despite her actions (like a run-in with a Buster Keaton look alike that gives new meaning to the name). Goth commands her scenes brilliantly, dishing out her own type of gory empowerment.

The film rarely slows down to let Maxine, or viewers, reflect on all that’s happened, though. And perhaps that’s intentional, as Maxine fears her own memory. Her PTSD pops to the surface in the brief moments when the chaos of her daily life subsides, and she fights to push it down.

West’s approach also reflects a broader issue with “MaXXXine,” however. It’s missing the heart of “X” and, especially, “Pearl,” which were willing to take their foot off the gas to let viewers sit with the characters and help flesh them out beyond their familiar archetypes.

Scenes like Brittany Snow’s rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” in “X” – with a split-screen contrasting the group’s youthful exuberance with the tragedy of Pearl’s missed opportunities —  or Goth’s long-take, confessional monologue in “Pearl,” help humanize these characters, breaking conventions to give unexpected emotional weight to outcomes we know will happen anyway. 

“MaXXXine” has a couple of those instances, but they’re positioned within a film that’s content to dazzle rather than provoke deeper thought, rushing along to the next kill or reveal without letting these scenes breathe. West surrounds our anti-hero with disposable characters of varying morality and sends us down a predictable rabbit hole of carnage that’s strangely empty, but never boring. 

Much of the film’s fun is due to its maximalist style, which echoes the work of Brian de Palma and the giallo genre, with Eliot Rockett’s cinematography drenching scenes in neon hues and creating a tactile grunginess that practically emanates from the screen, supported by a punchy soundtrack, authentic production design, and tongue-in-cheek dialogue that (mostly) fits the lurid, cartoonish rhythms.

The film’s cinematic references are usually amusing, but sometimes little more than novelty, such as multiple visits to the set of “Psycho” that may or may not allude to some sort of meta-commentary.

Supporting players like Bacon and Debicki bring lively energy to their characters, with Bacon appropriately sleazing it up and Debicki depicting her director as someone who’s had to sacrifice much to get to where she is.

Debicki delivers some of the film’s most heavy-handed dialogue – making a “B-movie with A material,” as Elizabeth puts it – but her character maintains a compelling dynamic with Maxine, whose present-day goals keep getting hijacked by figures and memories from her past. 

Giancarlo Esposito steals scenes as Maxine’s sketchy “entertainment lawyer” willing to go to extreme lengths to help his clients. Moses Sumney, as Maxine’s friend who runs a video store beneath her apartment, does what he can with a rather thankless role, while Monaghan and Cannavale are only fitfully effective with their good cop/bad cop schtick.

Lily Collins is sadly underutilized as a darkly funny star of the first “Puritan” film, while Halsey, as one of Maxine’s co-stars, with a bizarre accent to boot, is thankfully only around for a scene or two.

Maxine herself is the real star of the show, which she would be happy with. But by oversimplifying the world around her, West makes the moral gray area that made “X” and “Pearl” so exciting practically non-existent here, following through on its predecessors’ themes in unsurprising ways.

The mystery of who’s behind the killings in “MaXXXine” is also eye-rollingly predictable. West hits us over the head with messages regarding societal attitudes towards sex and violence that come across as more in-your-face than involving, complete with a conclusion that goes wildly off the rails and doesn’t feel entirely earned. 

Despite all this, “MaXXXine” is still highly entertaining thanks to its direction and Goth’s performance. It’s just an uncharacteristic letdown from West, who presents us with a B movie with B ideas, and an enjoyable albeit undercooked conclusion to his otherwise fantastic trilogy.

“MaXXXine” is a 2024 horror film directed by Ti West and starring Mia Goth, Elizabeth Debicki, Kevin Bacon, Giancarlo Esposito, Bobby Cannavale, Michelle Monaghan, Moses Sumney, Halsey, Lily Collins, and Simon Prast. It is rated R for strong violence, gore, sexual content, graphic nudity, language and drug use, and has a 1 hour, 44-minute runtime. It opened in theatres July 5. Alex’s Grade: B.

Despite ’80s Kitsch and Cool, ‘MaXXXine’ Is Weakest of West’s Horror Trilogy

Despite ’80s Kitsch and Cool, ‘MaXXXine’ Is Weakest of West’s Horror Trilogy

By Lynn Venhaus

Slashy and trashy, “MaXXXine” falls short of the thrills that made Ti West’s “X” and “Pearl” superior horror films in 2022.

The time is 1985 and the place is TinselTown. Adult film star Maxine Minx (Mia Goth), flush with success from the porn video biz, finally gets her big break in a horror movie. But the fame she craves can be snuffed out quickly because a mysterious killer stalks Hollywood starlets, and she wants to find out who is trying to thwart her crossover career by revealing her sinister past.

Despite West’s flair for retro genre pieces, this third installment starring Mia Goth lacks a compelling and cohesive story. For someone who pushes horror movies forward with an unmistakable style, this doesn’t offer anything fresh and feels forced.

Sure, there’s more money, more star power, excessive blood and gore, and heaps of chutzpah – but homages to schlocky 1980s horror movies can only sustain West’s sprawling plot so far.

It’s too large of a canvas to get invested in any of the ‘decent’ characters, although the elegant and statuesque Elizabeth Debicki adds class as a ruthless female director trying to make her mark in a misogynous industry.

Not only is it the weakest in the trilogy, but do we want to continue beyond the final frame? As it turns out, the big reveal is lame, and its sanctimonious angle took a long time limping to its ridiculous conclusion even for an hour and 44-minute runtime.

Moses Sumney as Leon, Maxine’s best friend.

Of course, with horror movies, logic goes out the window. Oh sure, purposely strut down a creepy pitch-black alley and walk into a dark mansion for the first time where you know nobody, and it sure doesn’t sound like a party is going on!

We experience the all-too-familiar tropes, but we have plot threads that leave us hanging, and there should have been a more satisfying turn, especially with all of West’s bag of tricks.

The self-righteous morality police have always been squeaky wheels, and seem like an easy, predictable target. Oh, religious zealots are offended by Hollywood smut?

The buddy cop dynamic of Bobby Cannavale and Michelle Monaghan was sadly under-used, the very real Night Stalker serial killer slayings wound up to be a red herring, and Maxine’s friends and colleagues were picked off in alarming fashion without much reason to care.

With Goth, you have a fascinating leading lady – a cold-blooded narcissistic sociopath that is so focused on fame that her moves are jaw-dropping (and ultimately made me too queasy to root for her success or redemption or comeuppance). Yay to cruelly chopping off man parts and crushing skulls?

Mia Goth as Maxine Minx

The violence is gruesome – and to be fair, there were ‘eyes-closed’ moments in the first two, too, but it was horrifyingly presented. (I know it’s a horror movie, duh, but sometimes restraint is more effective.)

To see such deviant behavior from a young girl so sick and twisted in “X” and “Pearl,” you wanted to know how she got that way. Here it seems like a contest – how sleazy and disgusting can we get? And did anyone else get a “Scream 3” vibe as well as throwbacks to Brian DePalma’s “Dressed to Kill” and “Body Double”?

In this installment, preacher’s daughter Maxine is just as self-absorbed and demented as she was before, a continuation of her character’s evil nature, a la “The Bad Seed” and Damian in “The Omen.” There is nothing new to add. If you’re making her into a Scream Queen, then shouldn’t it be scarier?

Nevertheless, West has surrounded his muse with a fine cast of characters. Kevin Bacon chews the scenery as a scummy private detective from Louisiana that underestimates what a disturbing lethal weapon she is. Giancarlo Esposito, in a goofy toupee, is hilariously over-the-top as her bulldog agent-lawyer.

The use of cocaine, such a part of hedonistic Hollywood, is omnipresent, but there are no consequences? Everyone who succumbed back then finally had to pay the piper, but we don’t get anywhere near that cause-and-effect.

While being very entrenched into that ‘80s mindset, the film’s intention does resemble the current ‘I wanna be a star’ social media influencer and celebrity culture obsessions.

In the West universe, there is no such thing as “be careful what you wish for,” only rewards, which makes Maxine even more terrifying. In “X,” she survived a Texas-chainsaw type massacre in the ‘70s, and “Pearl” was a grotesque backstory of a hyper-sexed homicidal maniac.

However, West being a master at atmosphere, his setting much of the action on a Hollywood backlot, specifically the Universal Studios tour – that ‘Psycho’ house! – is fabulous eye candy, thanks to production designer Jason Kisvarday (“Everything Everywhere All At Once”).

Kevin Bacon as Louisiana private detective.

And the seedy Hollywood Boulevard scenario from that period is realistic, especially embodied by Moses Sumney’s Leon, who works at a video store.

Perhaps it’s a little too on-the-nose, as is the soundtrack’s use of “Bette Davis Eyes.” However, the soundtrack is one of the more pleasant notes here, and so is composer Tyler Blake’s eerie score.

West’s skillful use of visual styles is another strong suit, collaborating with his “X” and “Pearl” cinematographer Eliot Rockett, and he edited the film too. And his wit is undeniable – clever use of comic relief, particularly pop culture jabs of the day.

I never thought of West as someone who played it safe. He offers this Bette Davis quote at the start: “Until you’re known in my profession as a monster, you’re not a star.”

OK, point taken. Let’s move on. I think this story has run its course.

“MaXXXine” is a 2024 horror film directed by Ti West and starring Mia Goth, Elizabeth Debicki, Kevin Bacon, Giancarlo Esposito, Bobby Cannavale, Michelle Monaghan, Moses Sumney, Halsey, Lily Collins, and Simon Prast. It is rated R for strong violence, gore, sexual content, graphic nudity, language and drug use, and has a 1 hour, 44-minute runtime. It opened in theatres July 5. Lynn’s Grade: C-.

‘Blonde’ Is a Relentless, Redundant Nightmare

‘Blonde’ Is a Relentless, Redundant Nightmare

By Alex McPherson

A grueling, disorienting, and horrific reimagining of the life of Norma Jeane Baker, who became Marilyn Monroe, director Andrew Dominik’s “Blonde” ultimately proves to be a case of excessive, at times exploitative, style over substance.

Based on the novel of the same name by Joyce Carol Oates, “Blonde” isn’t a traditional biopic in any sense, instead plunging viewers into a hallucinatory, David Lynchian hellhole that never lets up for its whopping 2-hour-and-46-minute runtime. Viewers begin with the child Norma Jeane (Lily Fisher, effective in her few scenes), living in Los Angeles with her single, alcoholic, mentally unstable mother, Gladys (Julianne Nicholson), while a fire rages outside in the Hollywood Hills.

Norma Jeane’s absentee father is apparently a bigshot in TinselTown, but she’s never met him, prompting trauma and insecurity that persistently haunt her throughout her life. Gladys, losing her mind and desperate to find him, then nearly drowns Norma Jeane in a bathtub, only to release her at the last second and let her escape to the next-door neighbors.

Flash forward a bit, and Norma Jeane is sent to an orphanage against her will. Flash forward again, and the “Marilyn Monroe” persona has been born, with Ana de Armas portraying our heroine with admirable, if misguided, fervor. Scarred by her horrible childhood, manipulated by devilish studio executives to advance her career, entering one corrosive relationship after another, being frequently underestimated, experiencing drug addiction, and remaining unable to separate her personal life from her public, hyper-sexualized persona, Norma Jeane’s life is tough, to say the least, and draining to watch unfold.  

Indeed, despite Dominik’s stylistic bravado and de Armas’ transformational performance, “Blonde” is difficult to recommend. This is an NC-17 rated film, and Dominik goes all-out depicting Norma Jeane’s abuse by practically everyone surrounding her. It’s too bad that far less attention is given to the character herself, reducing her to a victim sans agency, and robbing her of three-dimensionality that would have lent poignancy to the film’s onslaught of terrors. 

At least de Armas gives her all. A Cuban actor who’s left positive impressions in such films as “Knives Out” and “No Time to Die,” her impression of Norma Jeane’s voice and appearance is uncanny, particularly in Dominik’s painstaking recreations of iconic moments from Norma Jeane’s career.

De Armas’ commitment to the role overshadows the rest of the cast — though Bobby Cannavale and Adrien Brody stand out as Joe DiMaggio and Arthur Miller, respectively. Her portrayal is especially impactful when we witness the moment she quietly shifts from the crumbling Norma Jeane into the confident, alluring Marilyn — a character that she can disappear into, if never remove herself from. 

But although de Armas has the acting chops to explore Norma Jeane’s multifaceted headspace — and the real-life woman’s successes and triumphs amidst the gloom — “Blonde” doesn’t give her much room to delve into her complexities. A romance with Eddy G. Robinson Jr. (Evan Williams) and Charlie Chaplin Jr. (Xavier Samuel) marks one of the only times she actually feels companionship in the entire film, if only briefly and later upended — including a sex scene that seemingly warps and stretches the screen to pretentious effect.

Rather, more often than not, de Armas is reduced to hysterical outbursts and a performance defined by repetition, enduring violence against her (continually) naked body and her mind. Viewers aren’t granted any noteworthy insights into the dark side of Hollywood, being force-fed familiar points of misogyny, sexism, and mental illness. Even with fleeting moments here and there of Norma Jeane getting a chance to voice her opinions and demonstrate her intelligence, “Blonde” reduces her to a one-note, broken husk of a character, putting Dominik’s in-your-face filmmaking at the forefront. 

Speaking of, “Blonde” certainly doesn’t lack artistic creativity, for better and worse. Jumping between different aspect ratios and switching between black-and-white and color photography (seemingly with little reason), Chayse Irvin’s immersive cinematography is complemented by editing that’s alternately, woozy, ethereal, brutally uncompromising, and invasive.

Through this, “Blonde” effectively creates feelings of discomfort, irritability, and shocked hypnotism. The score, by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, captures a melancholy that hints at the emotion lurking somewhere at the story’s core, begging to be released.

Still, for all the transfixion gleaned from the film’s flourishes, “Blonde” is chock full of scenes that dehumanize, violate, and demean Norma Jeane, bashing viewers over the head with the awful ways she’s treated, as well as the ever-present public eye, full of men whose mouths gape open as if to swallow her whole. From abortions viewed from the perspective of Norma Jeane’s vagina, to an absolutely vile fellatio scene late in the film that juxtaposes a spaceship crashing into the White House with reaching an orgasm, it all just begs the question… Why was this necessary?

And that’s the final takeaway from “Blonde.” Despite individual elements that shine, the overall piece is more confusing and maddening than satisfying, leaving me frustrated thinking of the powerful film that could have been.

Blonde. Ana de Armas as Marilyn Monroe. Cr. Netflix © 2022

“Blonde” is a 2022 drama-fantasy written and directed by Andrew Dominik and starring Ana de Armas, Adrien Brody, Bobby Cannavale, Xavier Samuel, Garret Dillahunt, Julianne Nicholson, and Lily Fisher. It is rated NC-17 for some sexual content and the runtime is 2 hours, 46 minutes. It streams on Netflix beginning Sept. 28, and is in selected theaters Sept. 23 (but not in St. Louis). Alex’s Grade: C- 

‘Blonde’: Leering, Lascivious Look at Marilyn Monroe as American Tragedy

‘Blonde’: Leering, Lascivious Look at Marilyn Monroe as American Tragedy

By Lynn Venhaus
Based on the 2000 fictional novel by Joyce Carol Oates, “Blonde” is a deeply flawed semi-biopic that blurs fantasy and reality regarding the life of movie star Marilyn Monroe. The reality is an alarming American tragedy, and the fiction is a relentlessly disturbing film.

The film “Blonde” reimagines the life of the Hollywood legend, from her traumatic childhood as Norma Jeane Baker, through her rise to stardom and romantic entanglement. Writer-director Andrew Dominik blurs the lines of fact and fiction, exploring the difference between her public and private self

With its NC-17 rating and shocking graphic sexual content, “Blonde” is a polarizing, controversial take on one of Hollywood’s most enduring icons. Norma Jeane deserved better in life, and a much better  representation in a film after her death.

Not that Ana de Armas doesn’t impress in a remarkable transformation as the stunningly gorgeous, breathy-voiced actress whose traumatic childhood forever damaged her psyche. She has the look, the voice, and the demeanor down pat in her recreation, but regrettably, spends a huge chunk of the film in tears.

She wears those memorable outfits well, and costume designer Jennifer Johnson captures every look in meticulous detail.

With such copious nudity and its 2-hour, 46-minute runtime, at least a half-hour of bare breasts could have been cut. Not that more incisive editing would have saved the film, but it sure would have helped.

Writer-director Andrew Dominik worked on bringing this adaptation to the screen for over 10 years. The source material is already suspect anyway because it’s filmed as a dreamy fantasy – so unless you know the factual details of Marilyn’s life, you will be adrift. What’s fake and what really happened? You’ll have to find that out on your own.

For instance, her first husband, baseball legend Joe DiMaggio, is not referred to by name in the credits, only “Ex-Athlete.” To be fair, Bobby Cannavale is a fine embodiment of the slugger.

Bobby Cannavale and Ana de Armas

As her second husband Arthur Miller, Adrien Brody fares better and has the best scene when they first talk. It’s well-established that Miller was captivated by her enthusiasm for ‘the work,’ and her knowledge of literature and characters. She had an intuitive sense of the material, but sadly, wasn’t allowed to realize her great potential.

Growing up with a schizophrenic mother (a terrifying performance by Julianne Nicholson), Norma Jeane was sent to an orphanage. She endured so much hardship that we see why she had massive daddy issues and just wanted to be loved. Young actress Lily Fisher is gut-wrenching as the young Norma Jeane.

Starting out as a model, Monroe transitioned to film – her first role was in the Oscar-winning “All About Eve” as the wicked George Sanders’ date. The studio system’s casting couch is nothing new, but the way Marilyn was brutalized by men in power is upsetting. Treated like a boy-toy and nothing more than a sexual plaything is quite unsettling, and when the film dissolves into porn-like scenes with her lascivious pals Charlie Chaplin Jr. (Xavier Samuel) and Edgar G. Robinson Jr. (Garret Dillahunt), it’s squirm-time.

(I’m wondering how long it will take Netflix viewers to turn off the film after those graphic sexual encounters take place). The sleazier things, especially the lewd JFK scene, are painful..

The fantasy aspect is reason for concern, and after revealing she has a studio-ordered abortion, then she loses a baby through miscarriage, later. Did we need a voice and image of the fetuses?

Dominik’s overly melodramatic and turgid script, which he describes as an avalanche of images and events, is muddled and messy, and does not serve the actress well. No one is depicted in a good light. (Although cinematographer Chayse Irvin’s work with stark black and white vs. scenes of technicolor is interesting).

The movie shows only fleeting snippets of joy, and yes, her public and private images are contrasted in a very uncomfortable way. — lecherous and leery distortions.

“Blonde” is a confusing, perturbing, grim film that does the tragic star a disservice and winds up more of a nightmare because of its fever dream elements. I will never watch this again, and I can’t unsee things I wish I could.

“Blonde” is a 2022 drama-fantasy written and directed by Andrew Dominik and starring Ana de Armas, Adrien Brody, Bobby Cannavale, Xavier Samuel, Garret Dillahunt, Julianne Nicholson, and Lily Fisher.
It is rated NC-17 for some sexual content and the runtime is 2 hours, 46 minutes.
It streams on Netflix beginning Sept. 28, and is in selected theaters Sept. 23 (but not in St. Louis). Lynn’s Grade: D.

‘Thunder Force’ Squanders Resources, Laughs

‘Thunder Force’ Squanders Resources, Laughs

By Lynn Venhaus
When husband-and-wife collaborators Ben Falcone and Melissa McCarthy work together on screen, a low bar has been set, for their previous four movies together had little to redeem them. Yet “Thunder Force,” while just barely a cut above the others, has its moments.

And only a few, for “Thunder Force” is a hodge-podge of tone, temperament and style that squanders opportunities to boost its likability. The strongest aspect is the cast, who looks like they are having fun indulging in all the silliness.

And there is plenty of that, along with slapstick and repetitive gags. Maybe the jokes don’t all land, but let’s keep hammering them again and again just in case people will finally ‘get’ them.      

In a world terrorized by super villains, scientist Emily Stanton (Octavia Spencer) has developed a way to give regular people superpowers. That happens to her estranged best friend Lydia Berman (Melissa McCarthy), who is injected with super strength, when she is poking around. Emily can become invisible. These powers, to be used for good, can protect their city from evil. But can Thunder Force save Chicago from these Miscreants?                            

After the disappointing “Tammy” in 2014 and the unwatchable “Life of the Party” in 2018, (I skipped “The Boss” in 2016),  one wonders why writer-director Falcone still gets to helm projects with his Oscar-nominated wife McCarthy but in November, they presented another lackluster high concept “Superintelligence” on HBOMax and now the forced “Thunder Force” on Netflix.

McCarthy is playing the same character that she has milked for laughs since her breakout role in “Bridesmaids” in 2011 – an uncouth loudmouth slob who beats to her own drummer. The common thread there, along with “The Heat,” “Spy” and “Ghostbusters,” is director Paul Feig, who knows how to reign in her penchant for absurd riffs.

Feig’s direction is disciplined, unlike her husband of 16 years, who lets her go on and on and on – singing random pop songs, doing goofy impressions and just making a good punchline less amusing by not knowing when to stop. 

Why does she stay in her comfort zone when we know she is capable of much more — the Oscar-nominated “Can You Forgive Me?” and an Emmy as host of “Saturday Night Live” in 2017 (and that hilarious Sean Spicer impression)?

The Falcones met doing improvisational sketch comedy at The Groundlings in L.A., and I think their strength is humor in short doses. This movie is like a “SNL” sketch that has gone on far too long.

Apparently, McCarthy and Spencer met during that time, and have been real-life BFFs since then. But you would not know of their connection by the way the relationship is framed in the film.

Emily is a brain who devotes all her time to her work, with little time for frivolity. Lydia is a lonely hard-drinking forklift operator. Neither of them are endearing as good friends, thrown together in school as misfits, but neither is the loyal true-blue friend they should be.

So, they magically team up again after years of estrangement?

The plot holes don’t help. The Miscreants are former borderline sociopaths empowered by interstellar rays in the early ‘80s into super-villains who wreak havoc on the streets of Chicago.

Laser, played by “The Guardians of Galaxy” breakout Pom Klementieff dressed as a dominatrix, hurls blue bolts for destruction.

The thug-boss mayor, played over-the-top by – of course – Bobby Cannavale, referred to as “The King,” and is straight out of Gotham City’s playbook, appearing like a cartoon buffoon in “Batman Returns.”

Falcone also plays one of his henchmen, and after unfortunate skin tasering, has a running gag on how the unsightly scabs appear on his face. Once was enough but the fact it’s repeated is indicative of this hot mess.

And Oscar winner Melissa Leo is totally wasted in a tough-lady operative role.

Now, for the good parts. Jason Bateman, who worked with McCarthy in “Identity Thief” in 2013, is a half-creant, with crab pincer claws as arms. Inexplicably, The Crab and Lydia are drawn to each other (and there is a foreplay scene with drawn butter and Old Bay seasoning). You can tell he’s just slumming, and that’s OK because he knows how to deliver one-liners in a deadpan way. and has a gift for comic timing.

This film, however, belongs to the younger ladies. In flashback, McCarthy’s daughter Vivian Falcone plays her in middle school – and is terrific – and Bria Danielle Singleton is strong as young Emily. They could have had a whole movie developed around them, and that would have been OK, preferable to the middle-age edition.

That said, the jokes about hefty middle-age women in spandex suits and entering and exiting a sports car are funny and relatable.

Taylor Mosby is winning as Emily’s daughter Tracy.

The fact that this movie wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, but it was enjoyable in spurts.

“Thunder Force” is an action comedy directed and written by Ben Falcone. It stars Melissa McCarthy, Octavia Spencer, Bobby Cannavale, Jason Bateman, Taylor Mosby. Melissa Leo and Pom Klementieff. Rated PG-13 for some action/violence, language and mild suggestive material, the run time is: 1 hour, 46 minutes. The film is available on Netflix beginning April 9. Lynn’s Grade: D+