Perfect score flunks out
I’m concerned about the future.It’s not terrorism, the skyrocketing deficit or four more years of war and invasion under Bush II that worries me. It’s the young people that have me biting my nails bloody.What scares me most about the I-Pod-packing member of Generation L-Z is the fact that they are all dumber than Britney Spears’ bejeweled navel.I know this because I sat among post-pubescent punks during a recent sneak preview for “The Perfect Score.” Many of the walking brain dead laughed out loud and clapped at the conclusion of this MTV-produced load of puke.The film is raged PG-13, which means you have to be Pretty Goddamned ignorant to give the “The Perfect Score” a passing grade.A finger painting from a special needs first grader packs more wow than this cinematic zero.The movie is being pimped as a brilliant comedy for the high school set. The producers want us to believe it’s a cross between “The Breakfast Club” and “The Italian Job.”But aside from a few chuckles delivered by a stereotypical stoner character, there are no jokes in this alleged comedy.This is a painful movie to sit through. It’s “Gilie” bad. It’s as poorly conceived as Howard Dean’s scream. It’s lower than the worst afternoon special.It’s bad to the bone.And yet the vapid, video game addicted teens in the crowd — as well as a few mentally challenged adults – enjoyed it.Perhaps Mad Cow Disease has spread faster than we thought.”The Perfect Score” follows the extremely uninteresting adventures of several high school kids about to face the SAT, or the “Suck Ass Test,” as one bight boy calls the dreaded and outdated exam.That crack about the SAT illustrates the humor level in “The Perfect Score.”Each character has his or her own reason to do well on the college entrance exam. The main dude, Kyle, needs a good number to get into Cornell. Trouble is he’s too dumb for the Ivy League. The class brain, a semi-hottie, suffers panic attacks come test day. A hoop star needs a 900 to squeak into a basketball scholarship.Each character is beyond clich. The class brain is an uptight babe crushed by the oppressive thumb of over-achieving parents. The ballplayer is the son of a single mom that works three jobs so he can get an education. There is also an Asian pothead who can’t stop acting like Jeff Spicoli from “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.”The final crewmember is an edgy rich girl, whose dad hangs with high-priced hookers. On the plus side, Pops owns the building that houses the SAT exam.How convenient.Each kid has a handy excuse to justify stealing the test. The African-American ballplayers thinks the SAT is racist. The smart chick say it’s gender-bias and the Cornell wannabe thinks tests don’t show true intelligence.Soon they scheme up an extremely simple plan to get inside the building. The plot involves getting a key from the rich girl’s father and deceiving a guard with a bouquet of roses.Once inside, the lame-asses behave like Watergate plumbers and bungle most of the job.In the end, no one gets knocked up, gang-raped by the football team or busted for dope. Rather, everyone does the right thing and lives happily ever after.Until next time, Mr. Hernandez has left the theater to buy a Harvard Diploma off the Internet.Nickey Hernandez is a former private investigator who cheated his way through dental hygienist school.
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