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Review written by: Alex Sandell
"Jinkies, Shaggy, we all
just wrecked our careers!"
Hello, my name is Alex Sandell, and I have been Scooby-Doo free for five days, now. I first noticed I had a problem with Scooby-Doo when I was a child. Maybe 5 or 6. I watched it every weekend for years. The addiction continued throughout high school. When I was a junior, I would claim to disbelieving friends and family that A Pup Named Scooby-Doo was even better than the original cartoon. I would wake up faithfully every Saturday morning to watch it, even if it was a repeat. I'd stick around and stare at the channel it was supposed to be on, if it was preempted by a "very special" episode of The Smurfs.
It was when I became convinced that Andy Rooney was actually a pirate in disguise sitting atop a treasure chest that belonged to the Harlem Globetrotters, causing my infamous boycott of CBS, that my buddy Leonard let it slip that my parents were setting up a surprise birthday party for me. He claimed that every single person that was willing to sign my High School Annual would be there, and I realized that that could only mean one thing! We'd have to add the mid-section back to the dining room table to seat all eight guests!
The day of my surprise birthday party was when I figured out something funny was going on. I noticed that it was 102 degrees outside, and the middle of July. "That's odd," I said to myself, "my birthday isn't until December." I pondered this for a while, but then decided that that was the very reason Leonard called it a surprise birthday! If the party was really held on the anniversary of my birth, it wouldn't be much of a surprise now, would it? Still, I couldn't help but wonder ... was it really as simple as all that, or was that damn Rooney up to something fishy? Either way, I had a mystery on my hands!
Although it was a sunny day, I grabbed my flashlight and tiptoed into the house, waiting for the "surprise." It turned out there was a surprise in store for me, after all, and it was in the form of a therapist. After the therapist sat me down at the table - one with only Leonard, my brothers and my mom and dad - I found that I had been tricked into attending an intervention. This was tough love at its harshest. Turn off Scooby-Doo or get out of the house. It was when I tried ripping the therapist's head off, accusing him of being Andy Rooney, that I realized, handful of toupee in my hand, that I had a problem. Amazingly, the intervention worked, and my days of Doo were over.
Then came The Cartoon Network.
"A little Scooby-Doo couldn't hurt," I thought to myself, "just for nostalgia's sake." I turned the show on and was immediately hooked, all over again. Now, though, I wasn't just watching it once a week, I was tuning in 3 or 4 times a day. Sometimes I'd stay up 24 hours straight and watch a "Scooby-Doo Scarathon." I gained nearly 400 pounds trying to go bite-for-bite with Shaggy and Scoob. I created over 1,000 screen names just to support a Scooby-Doo marathon over one starring Courage the Cowardly Dog. I had a problem, and this time it looked like nobody could save me.
Then I attended the advance screening of Warner Bros.'s 52 million live-action Scooby-Doo movie.
After seeing this rancid excuse for a film my lifelong obsession with Scooby-Doo was ripped out of my wiggling brain faster than my appendix was sliced out of my belly during last year's appendectomy. There is nothing enjoyable in this movie. I'd like to thank the "brains" behind this inevitable bomb for hiring James Gunn, former screenwriter for classic Troma Films' junk such as Tromeo and Juliet and Tromaville Cafe, for not even giving this picture a fighting chance. I'd like to kiss the idiot who picked Raja Gosnell, director of clumsy "comedy" crap such as Big Momma's House and Home Alone 3, for finding the only director who could possibly make James Gunn's writing appear worse than it actually is. Thank you all for letting me live a free and clean life away from Scooby-Doo!
But for God's sake, what were you thinking? Why would you take what could have been an easy, breezy time at the box office and turn it into a gigantic fart joke with ghosts? A Scooby-Doo movie is worthy of a Spielberg or a Scott, not a Gosnell. Shit, dig up Orson Welles and make Citizen Scoob. At least that would be original.
The references to Shaggy being a stoner? Who woulda thunk? Velma is jealous of Fred taking the credit? What a revelation. People hate Scrappy? Somebody pinch me, it can't be true! Fred is stuck up and Daphne is stuck on herself? Where did you ever come up with this stuff? The original cartoon was so reticent with it. How did you pick it all out?
This is the laziest motion picture that I've ever seen. Every Scooby fan has already made the same jokes, but the difference with our jokes versus the ones dribbled out over the course of this movie, is that ours are actually funny! A fierce farting contest between Shaggy and Scooby? Show some respect, ya bastards. William Hanna must be rolling in his grave.
Honestly, gang, avoid this film like yesterday's Scooby Snacks. Do not pay to see it on opening night. Do not pay to see a matinee. Don't even rent it when it comes out on video six months from now. The ads were only a hint at how horrible this thing actually is. The only good thing to come out of the Scooby-Doo movie is the fact that it will make every upcoming film this summer look like a friggin' classic. I don't know about you, but I bet Andy Rooney was behind this whole thing! One can pray he funded it with the entire Globetrotter treasure, and there won't be any money left for a sequel. If people avoid this thing in droves, he'll never make his fortune back.
"And it would have been a hit, too, if it wasn't for you meddling critics!"
On a scale of 1-10?
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Text ©(Copyright) 2002 Alex Sandell [All Rights Reserved].
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