The premise of this movie (plot would be far too strong of a word), from what I gather, is Sling Blade murders his wife and then gets high from a smoking, moss-covered meteor and starts turning green. At least I think that’s what happened, I wasn’t really paying attention. It would explain the whole with French fried potaters fascination, though.
The space rock is harboring a stowaway– a dickish little bong– which dude brings to a head shop run by Brett (Brian Lloyd) and Bachman (Mitch Eakins), two of our high-on heroes from the first two movies.
Soon our boys are joined by the other half of the dope fiend foursome—Larnell (John Patrick Jordan) and Alistair (Peter Stickles). While the role of Alistair is played by the third poor sap in as many movies, this time the script writers packed the plot bowl err hole by having Larnell mention how different he looked. Clever.
So the space bong is intent on taking over the Earth, by way of luring those that toke from it into its bong world and stealing their semen. Seems legit. Or, as Larnell states, “Bong’s being a total d-bag.”
Grandpa Cyril (Jacob Witkin) shows up reborn as Dr. Weed, and has some alien mime nurse with him that is never quite explained… which is fine, because no one cares.
The bong takes a couple of prisoners, because after two movies these fucktards still haven’t figured out that they shouldn’t take rips from a bong that talks mean shit, and the remaining bumbling burnouts are tasked with saving the world. Again. <yawn>
Luckily Grandpa still possesses Eebee (voiced by Michelle Mais), the original evil bong that once killed everyone but now is easily controlled with just a little duct tape over her mouth, and the boys must rely on her to help destroy the latest piece of paranormal paraphernalia. They obviously only brought her in for star power, because, as she says, she “don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that fucker, ‘cept he’s an asshole.”
And seriously, what is it with bad alien movies and baseball bats? For fuck’s sake.
I think Grandpa Cyril says it best (as usual) when describing the joy at seeing these lovable characters resurface: “I enjoy my flare ups of my genital herpes more than I do seeing your insipid face(s) again!”
I can’t think of anything else to even say about this movie, which bills itself as a horror comedy and effectively achieves neither.
GRADE: For an equally effortless ending line I’ll close with a line from Grandpa that summarizes this whole dumb franchise: “I think this thing stinks, like a sumo wrestler’s just taken a dump on a burning tire.” Indeed.
Final Note: While the sequels completely killed the joy I found in the first Evil Bong movie, at least I can find solace in the fact that I’m finally through with this series.